#a bit steeper now

[aaagustd]

freaky friday | myg (m)

title: freaky friday pairing: min yoongi x f!reader genre/rating: smut, horror, f*ckbuddies, friday the 13th au; 18+ summary: they were right to be afraid. wc: 2.6k warnings: m*rder, mild description of d*ad bodies, blood, weapon play, outdoor s*x, mentions alcohol, slight power play dynamics, ch*king, multiple org*sms, squirting, overstimulation, dirty talk, a bit of dark humor, i think that's all...will update later. can be triggering so please proceed with caution. release date: september 13th, 2024

note: hi! i'm back lol. had some downtime so I whipped this up. slightly edited but this was just a quick drabble i wrote. mask credit.

September 13th, 2024

Snap.

You stop in your tracks so another twig doesn’t crack beneath your feet. The forest becomes eerily quiet as you await your fate. After seconds of standing somewhere within the forest surrounding Camp Crystal Lake, you unclench your fists and cautiously tiptoe to the nearest tree. 

Relief washes over you but doesn’t erase the fear pumping through your veins. You’re not safe until you reach the lake so there’s no time to celebrate a victory this small. 

“Clap!”

Fuck.

You hear one of the seekers call out in the distance, and abiding by the rules, you clap your hands once to pinpoint your location. The caller is far from your area, but that doesn’t mean another isn’t nearby.

You brace yourself as you hear the sticks being crushed by someone’s footsteps behind the tree that shields you and you brace yourself for the jump scare that comes with being discovered.

Holding your breath, you close your eyes and wait—but the moment never arrives. Sighing, you turn slowly to scope out your surroundings.

The moon provides enough light to see what’s in front of you, but the night is gloomy and does an excellent job of concealing you in the darkness. 

Camp Crystal Lake has always been a popular summer camp location. You and your friends have run through these woods more times than you can count. Now as counselors, you still haven’t grown up entirely.

This place brings out the kid in you, but like quite a few attractions, it comes with a dark history.

The story of the boy who drowned in the lake has always been the camp’s employees' favorite spooky bedtime story. It’s a way to get the kids to bed early so that the adults can have some fun. Although it’s just a scary story, you can’t help but feel like there’s some truth to it. 

You can never really shake the feeling of being watched, but you won’t let your paranoia ruin your last night of fun. Camp ends tomorrow, and then it’s back to long nights of studying for you. Hopefully, you can snag a victory this time around and have some bragging rights for next time.

After looking in every direction twice, you take the first step. Looking around you again, you don’t see or hear any sign of movement. So, you make a run for it.

You don’t think you’ve ever run so fast. You cover over half the distance within a minute. You nearly slip and burst your ass when the ground becomes steeper.

“Better slow down,” you tell yourself.

You wouldn’t want to slide right into the lake. You’d be covered in mud by the time you climb out. 

Before you continue, you look around to make sure you haven’t been spotted, and this time—you aren’t so lucky.

“Oh, shit.”

Your heart drops when you see the figure standing no more than 15 to 20 feet away from you. You’re frozen because you know you’ve been caught, but what you can’t determine is by who.

After they’ve moved closer, you can make out the white mask and clothing. 

It’s Yoongi.

None of you know him too well. This is his first summer working here. You’ve heard stories about him but to you, he’s just a guy trying to make some extra cash. You don’t think he knows any more about this place than the rest of you. The kids have already given him every scary name they could think of, and that’s mainly because he doesn’t talk much and sticks to himself. It took you weeks to get him out of his shell, and he’s been fucking your brains out ever since.

“You still have that on?”

Like you, Yoongi pulled the short straw and they made him wear a hockey mask to scare the kids. You thought he went to bed after his little show, but maybe he couldn’t resist the opportunity to fuck with everyone.

He doesn’t reply or answer the question. Instead, he continues to make his way towards you. 

“Yoongi?”

Still, nothing comes out of his mouth and worry starts to build in your gut. You almost make a run for the campgrounds, but then he decides to speak up.

“Damn, you look scared.”

If you had a rock, you’d probably throw it at him. “Why would you do that?”

Yoongi laughs and lifts the mask. His skin seems to glow underneath the moonlight, fueling your attraction. His hair is pushed away from his face, giving you a full few of his forehead and slit eyebrows.

“I was about to kill you, but I changed my mind,” he shrugs.

Your mouth falls open.

“You would not!”

You smack his chest as he snakes a hand around your waist. The other clutches his prop—a machete he probably got from Party City.

“Maybe I won’t,” he replies. “It depends, really.”

“On?”

Another shrug of his shoulders serves as a response, an indicator that your question is probably one you already know the answer to. However, he still doesn’t hesitate to enlighten you.

“Are you going to be good for me?”

Your skin feels on fire as his lips move against your cheek. He invades your senses with the smell of s’mores and liquor mixed with his familiar scent of shampoo, detergent, and nature. His body is warm, his heart beating rapidly from his adrenaline. Yours is racing just as swiftly, anticipating another heated encounter with the mysterious stranger who knows your body better than anyone.

“I can try.”

Yoongi guides you closer to a nearby tree, gently pushing you against the bark. He pulls down his mask before he speaks again.

“I sure hope you can.”

His blade touches your thigh and you let out a small gasp because of how cold it is. It feels real. It looks real.

“Wouldn’t want to make me mad tonight, love.”

“Why not? You’re gonna use that?” you ask him, now entirely aware of how huge the prop really is.

Yoongi pauses and tilts his head. “Sounds like you want me to.”

You can’t deny how intrigued you are by the object. You’ve experimented with all kinds of toys, but this would be a new one for you. However, another opportunity like this won’t come often—if at all.

“And what if someone sees us?” 

“What if they’re already watching?” he counters.

Even Yoongi notices your reaction despite it being dark. Your hands clutch the bark, hoping your knees don’t buckle or give out. 

As Yoongi moves the machete further up your leg, you know he wants to know where the skin stops—when will he reach the fabric of your shorts? However, you just threw on some shoes and ran outside when you got the text. He’ll never find what he’s looking for.

Realizing at that moment, he lifts your oversized shirt slightly to confirm his suspicions. 

“Should have known.”

You give him a little smirk, letting him know it was intentional. You never know when a quickie will present itself around here. You have to be prepared at all times.

“You should have,” you repeat. “Wanna see the back?”

Yoongi nods and lowers his weapon so you can turn away from him. When you’re facing the tree, you lift your shirt, knowing he’s expecting you to stop at the waist. Instead, you remove the item entirely and drop it beside you, leaving you standing there in nothing but your panties.

Yoongi whistles and you scold him playfully. “Shh! What if someone heard that?”

“Trust me. No one did,” he promises.

Once again, he’s all over you. His arms around you, his lips kissing your neck and shoulders, his body shielding you from the breeze in the air. You’re drunk from his touch within seconds, and the way he speaks in your ear only intensifies the throbbing between your thighs.

“Don’t worry about them. I need you.”

No, he needs to be in you.

You can feel his boner getting harder the longer you stand there naked before him. You would tease him, make him chase you for it, but who knows how long before the others come looking for you?

“Well, it’s right here. Just take it,” you reply.

Yoongi doesn’t waste a second. He tears off your underwear, causing you to cover your mouth to capture your startled shriek. You would have just taken them off if he just asked, but you have to admit the manhandling is kind of hot. You’d put on seven layers of clothes just to watch him rip them off you.

The sound of his belt buckle and zipper lets you know what’s to come. You feel the thick tip of his dick touch your ass when he steps behind you, and just from the small contact, you know he’s standing at attention.

You spread your legs for him and he slides his cock between your thighs. Both of you exhale, already relieving some of the tension. Your wetness is already pooling at your entrance so he slowly slips inside of you in one motion. 

“Fuck me.”

He’s momentarily caught off guard by your eagerness but recovers quickly and fulfills your request.

“Can’t wait, huh?”

Yoongi begins to thrust his hips, causing a skin-slapping noise to resonate through the woods. You can only hope no one hears the obscene sounds coming from the two of you. You try your best to suppress your cries of pleasure but Yoongi doesn’t hold back as he moans in your ear.

“This pussy’s so good,” he mumbles against your flesh. His hand wraps around your throat and he begins to squeeze, making your head spin. “I’m going to miss this.”

“Not me?”

Your voice comes out rough and shaky. You can barely finish your sentence because the words are getting trapped in the back of your throat. Yoongi chuckles sending vibrations straight to your core, the sensation leaves you trembling.

“Enjoy the moment, baby.”

He knows you’re joking. You barely know each other. This is fun, but that’s all it is. You know you’ll probably never see him again.

“Oh, I am.”

You can feel yourself getting hotter. Each snap of Yoongi’s hips takes you closer to the edge. Drool and tears roll down your face but you don’t bother wiping them away. You barely know they’re there.

“You like getting fucked in the wood? Butt ass naked, hm?” he growls. “Such a little freak?”

“Fuck, Yoongi.”

He laughs.

“No shame at all, baby. You’re really enjoying yourself, huh?”

You try to nod but you realize that you can’t so you croak the best response you can give in your position. “I am. It’s good.”

“I know.”

As he fucks you from behind, you almost forget about what he’s holding in his right hand. It doesn’t cross your mind until the blade touches your skin. He drags it across your skin, leaving goosebumps all over your body. Only one question comes to mind.

“Is that real?” you ask through your labored panting.

Yoongi pauses and brings the machete to your throat. 

“Move and you’ll find out.”

Your eyes widen as your soul threatens to leap out of you. Excitement mixed with fear and curiosity makes you release the moans you so desperately tried to conceal. You can feel the sharp edge threaten to break through your fresh as Yoongi begins to fuck you again. You aren’t sure how much you have left in you, but you know it’s not much.

“I feel you clenching,” he reveals. “You’re just as fucked up as me.”

He’s no longer controlling himself. He goes deeper and deeper with each stroke, touching your cervix and making your back arch. Your head tilts back, resting on his shoulder for support. Your nails dig into the bark as you stare at the moon, mind racing with a flood of disgusting thoughts and possibilities. 

You wonder if someone’s watching, or recording you. If the blade will leave a mark, making you remember this encounter forever. Everything just hits you like a whirlwind. You barely have time to warn Yoongi.

“I—I’m cumming!”

The leaves and dirt become damp with your juices squirting all over the ground beneath you. Yoongi has to drop the machete to keep you on your two feet. He fills your ears with the filthiest things, intensifying your orgasm. You have no idea how long you’ve been cumming all over his dick, but Yoongi’s only a few thrusts away from reaching his peak.

“This pussy’s so good. Give me another one,” he demands, fucking you harder.

“Wait a minute!”

You try to bargain for a month to recover from your last orgasm but Yoongi’s ready to blow his load. He grabs your hips and drills into your sensitive cunt with only one thing in mind. All you can do is hold on and hope he doesn’t have to carry you back to camp.

“Fuck!”

He curses loudly into the night when another wave of pleasure causes your walls to squeeze around him. This time he has no choice but to pull out and release his seed all over your ass. He moans and groans as the ropes of cum paint your skin. Soon, the only noises you hear are the crickets and both of you breathing heavily.

“Where is everyone?” 

You can’t help but notice how besides the two of you no other voices can be heard. The game of hide and seek doesn’t even seem to be going on anymore. 

It’s dead silence all around you.

“Probably dead,” Yoongi answers.

You roll your eyes and grab your shirt, shaking off the dirt before putting it on. You turn to Yoongi who’s adjusting his pants. His mask lies on the ground beside his machete, and you can’t help but notice the red stains splattered all over the white object.

“You really went all out, huh?”

You point towards the items and he laughs. “Yeah, you can say that.”

Both of you stand there for a minute before you decide to head back to camp. You assume everyone forgot about you so technically you have a victory.

“I’m gonna head back but this was really fun.”

Yoongi nods. “Tell your bunkmates I said hi, yeah?”

“Uh, sure. Okay.”

Everyone calls Yoongi a little weird, but you like that about him. You talk about all kinds of things that others would find strange. However, you don’t ever recall him speaking with the people you share a bunk with. They don’t even work with your group.

The walk back isn’t a long one, and on your way to your cabin, you take a peek at the kids. Some are actually sound asleep while the others are pretending to be. You smile thinking about how you and your friends did the same thing as kids.

You leave them to continue doing whatever it is they were doing, giving them a last taste of summer before the return home and school begins.

For some reason, the counselor quarters are unusually dark tonight and you struggle getting in the door. You don’t turn on the light, noticing that there’s someone slumped over the couch asleep. They look hammered so you leave the be. In your room, you notice that your bunkmates are all asleep. You tiptoe so you don’t wake them, but slip on something wet as you make your way to your bed.

“Shit, what the fuck?! I’m sorry guys.”

You carefully get up, covered in some sort of thick goo. You struggle for several minutes to find the light switch and when you do, nothing but horror awaits.

Blood.

The entire room covered in it. You try to shake everyone, trying to wake them up from the sick prank. However, the longer you examine the state of their limp bodies, the realization finally dawns on you.

“He wasn’t joking.”

[hauntedhokage]

𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒑𝒓𝒊𝒄𝒆 𝒐𝒇 𝒑𝒓𝒐𝒎𝒐𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏

Satoru Gojo/F!Reader

you should know better than to make a deal with Mei Mei, because everything comes at a price.

word count: 2.9k

warnings: drugging (aphrodisiac use), manipulation, non-consensual photos and recording, non-sexual slapping, uneven power dynamics, canon typical Mei Mei behavior, unprotected sex, breeding, yan!gojo

notes: some parts of this are intentionally a bit exaggerated because Gojo is a showman, if nothing else. This was also requested in uh....march so dear anon if you're still here I love you and I'm sorry.

There is always a price. Even in the jujutsu world, nothing just happened because of merit. It was all about who you knew and what you could give them in return for helping you out. Never simply receiving because you worked hard and earned it. 

Which is why you knew paying off Mei Mei to support your promotion to grade one was going to end badly. But she was your only in to get the promotion you knew you deserved quickly. Gojo had been an option, but his price was “be a good girl for twenty-four hours” and that would cost you way more than Mei Mei’s negotiated price of five hundred thousand yen just to consider putting you up for promotion. The higher ups hated Gojo anyway, your paperwork would just get “lost” and then you’d have to resubmit multiple times, and Gojo resubmitting paperwork would come at a cost that grew steeper with every re-submission. The cost of doing business with him.

But that came at the price of Mei Mei not being able to supervise your missions that would fall under consideration, the ultimate price being that your final mission for consideration would be performed with Satoru Gojo at your side - and he looked way too happy to be sitting next to you in the car. 

“Ijichi, there was nobody else?” 

“You ask that as if I make the assignments,” the supervisor retorts, and you sit back in your seat as he sighs. “You’ll live. We always persevere.”

“I am right here, y’know,” Gojo interjects, and you sigh as you lean into the door when he scoots closer. “It’ll be like I’m not even there.”

“Impossible,” you mumble, grateful that the car has slowed to a stop meaning you can get out before Gojo is pressed into your side. Personal space didn’t exist for you when he was around, that’s why you did your best to avoid him. 

Like he’s not even there, he says. 

But he certainly enjoyed standing right next to you as you walked through the closed down hotel in search of the curse. His presence was unsettling for a multitude of reasons, the biggest one being that you didn’t like how he looked at you. Always with a stupid little smirk on his face, like he knew something you didn’t, and then there was the fact that he always had something to say about your appearance. New haircut, wearing your jacket a certain way, he even clocked the one time you smelled like someone else’s cologne. You weren’t bold enough to assume that he wanted anything more than to say he’d fucked you, but the way he just kept trying after the first rejection was creepy. But he was Satoru Gojo - the strongest sorcerer - despite any complaints about his conduct, the higher ups wouldn’t be able to actually do anything. The perk of being Satoru Gojo, and the true downside to hating him. 

“Maybe the windows were mistaken?” you consider, poking your head into another open door and seeing nothing of interest. “I can’t sense any cursed energy besides ours. If this truly was a grade one or higher, we’d have felt it by now.”

“I’m not here, so you should feel it.”

“Are you telling me that you sense something I don’t?” His six eyes technique was annoying, he was annoying, so you keep walking even when he stops to go into a different open room. Maybe without him hovering your senses would be cleared enough to tell what he wasn’t telling you about. You just hoped you found it soon, because searching a hotel top to bottom with Gojo over your shoulder was not how you wanted to spend a Friday night. Maybe you’d call Nanami, see if he was going to leave that office building and at least get a drink? Or go to Yaga and see if there was any way you could get sent overseas to keep an ocean between you and Gojo at all times?

You hear movement behind you but pay it no mind, knowing that it was just Gojo pretending to not be near you. The cursed energy was the same, no residuals to be found, so you were going to let your guard stay dropped until you had a true reason to be on guard. Creaks in the floorboards of an old hotel wasn’t reason enough to stress yourself out. 

A rag covering your mouth while an arm snakes around your torso to pull you against a chest and back through a doorway was, however, cause for great distress. This wasn’t a curse attacking you, even high grade curses weren’t smart enough to stage an attack like this - this was Gojo. And he’s too strong for you to truly be able to fight back, the best you can do is kick and flail and hope that his infinity wouldn’t block it given your close proximity to him. Screaming was pointless, since sound wouldn’t escape the veil, but you do manage to wiggle free just as he kicks the door shut. 

The room is a bit blurry, your body feels warm and fuzzy when it certainly should not be, and every time you inhale you’re getting hints of pomegranate - not normal considering everywhere else in the hotel smelled like dust covered up with lemon cleaning solution. You have to get away from him, but there’s only one exit and he’s blocking it. 

“Well damn. It’s supposed to make you more receptive, guess I didn’t use enough,” he mumbles, tossing the rag to the side as you back away from him. “Or maybe there’s a delay? I really should have read the instructions closer.”

“W-what the fuck is wrong with you!?”

“To start, this hard on. I get like this whenever you’re around, y'know.” And he’s dropping his pants easily, exposing his lower half while he steps closer to you. “You’re just so cute. Even cuter when you make those angry faces at me, like I don’t know how badly you want me, too.” “You’re delusional.”

“And you’re dripping wet, aren’t you? Maybe it is working? Or do you just want me that badly?”

He’s wrong. You know he’s wrong because you did not have any desire for him in the slightest. Satoru Gojo was an annoyance who gave you the creeps, not someone you were attracted to at all. The bastard drugged you, after all, that’s why you had this reaction. 

“Why are you doing this?”

“You want that promotion, right?” His hand is stroking the bulge in his briefs, and your eyes struggle to stay focused on his as he smirks at you. “This is how you’ll get it. I was a little hurt that you didn’t ask me to put your name forward, though, I had our day all planned out.”

“That’s why I didn't ask you. Mei only wanted money, the lesser evil.”

“And isn’t it funny that paying Mei is how we ended up here?” And he’s got you boxed against the wall, long fingers carefully unbuttoning your jacket as he watches you process the implication of that statement. “Five million is a pretty steep price to take on such a bother that’s supervising an exorcism, but alone time with a sweet little thing like you is pretty priceless.”

And your jacket falls to the floor, your blouse coming undone shortly after while you stand frozen in place. Mei Mei sold you to the highest bidder, knowing damn well you paid her to get out of possibly needing to fuck Gojo to get promoted. Five million. What’s more concerning is that you’re sure Gojo would’ve paid more for this opportunity to get you alone on a mission with a veil separating you from society and Ijichi as the Supervisory Assistant - someone who wouldn’t dare intervene in a mission Gojo was on unless the man himself instructed it. The perfect plan.

“Don’t think you can get all frigid on me, don’t you want to be a grade one sorcerer?”

“You know I do.”

“Then you’d better show me how much.” A firm hand on your shoulder has you sliding down the wall to rest on your knees, nodding at his instruction to be cute about it and pressing your cheek to his covered cock. His phone is pointed down at you, pictures taken before you could even consider slapping it away, but you can only grin and bear it as you nuzzle against his crotch. “You want to suck my cock, don’t you? Wanna show me how badly you want to get promoted?”

“Please,” you whisper, kissing along the bulge until you get to the waistband. Your fingers hook into the elastic, but you wait for Gojo’s nod before starting to pull the fabric down. “But can you not record this?”

“Honey, I need this so we can both remember that even when you’re being mean, you want me. That deep down, for all your posturing, you’re just as eager to take my cock as any random woman off the streets in Tokyo.” 

He’s such a bastard. You’d make this the worst blowjob of his life if he wasn’t your only hope of getting promoted, but you can only sigh in resignation. You weren’t getting what you wanted until he was satisfied, but you didn’t know what would truly satisfy him. He paid five million for this opportunity, what more would he spend to get more from you? Or what “tragic accident” could occur should you choose to be noncompliant? A promotion meant nothing if you weren’t alive to use it. 

“Now be good and look cute while you suck me off, don’t want to have to tell the higher ups you can’t take instruction.

Just don’t bite him, you have to tell yourself as he gently taps your cheek with his cock. He’d probably like it, anyway, which wouldn’t be any kind of fun for you. 

Before he can make any kind of request, you gently take the base of his cock in your hand while sucking the tip into your mouth. The taste of his pre on your tongue makes you want to throw up, but you maintain your composure as you take more of him into your mouth. His hand around your wrist pulls your hand from his length, holding it tightly as his other hand settles atop your head, his phone tossed to the side hopefully for the rest of the Awanight. He says something about testing your endurance just before he pushes his length further into your mouth. A sharp thrust makes you choke, but he gives no reprieve - instead warning you that you’d need to sharpen up that performance if you ever wanted to become a grade one sorcerer and reminding you that this was all so you could get a promotion. 

“Oh, you recovered quickly,” he observes aloud, gently tugging on a couple strands of hair while continuing to keep you still. “Has this pretty mouth been used by someone else? Not like it matters, I’ll ruin you for anyone else.”

Fuck him and his confidence, honestly. He’s just rich and untouchable, nothing special. Fucking guy. 

Breathing is your only priority since he’d taken his pleasure into his own hands - that and not biting him or throwing up. Shit, was it hot in here now? Why was it so warm?

It’s supposed to make you more receptive, he’d said, the words bouncing in your head as you feel yourself clench around nothing. The drugs were truly kicking in; your greatest fear of the night being realized in knowing that he’d get your skirt off and realize that you were, in fact, dripping wet. Technically because of him, the artificial assistance simply a footnote in the grander scheme of his memories of the event. 

The way he fucks into your mouth should not make you as wet as you are. But it does, your thighs rubbing together in search of friction you wouldn’t get until he was satisfied with intruding your throat, and you know he’s going to be thrilled when he gets you on that bed to finally get to the main event. 

“Oh, are you ready for me?” he asks, and you curse his damn six eyes technique because he truly missed nothing, but you know better than to lie to him if he had all the control in this situation. It takes all of your strength to nod against around his cock, pulling back to confirm his statement and ask him to fuck you. Playing into his game would make this go faster, and you could go home and scrub your skin while waiting for the results of your promotion mission. 

He’s lifting you effortlessly, carefully dropping you onto the bed and pouncing almost instantly. His fingers play with your soaked cunt for only a few seconds before he’s lining himself up, stretching you out with his thick cock with little regard for your comfort as the recipient. 

“Oh, you feel like heaven, just like I thought you would.” His praise comes out half a whine, and you feel nauseous at just how much pleasure he’s getting from simply pushing into you. Even more nauseous at how eagerly your body allowed the intrusion. “Maybe you’ve got potential to help me breed more little Gojos. Being the only one is a bit lonely, y’know.”

“That’s not part of the deal, Go-fuck!” A slap to your cheek has you stopping, just as he forces the rest of his length in to bottom out, leaving you winded and in different types of pain. 

“You should really use my first name. I think we’re well past formalities and all that cold indifference you tried to maintain.” And he’s setting a brutal pace, leaving you no time to adjust to how he was stretching you out. “C’mon, say it for me. Nice and sweet, now.”

You don’t want to give him the satisfaction, but you also don’t want him to hit you again. This was all about control, a game you had no hope of winning because Gojo was stronger with or without the aphrodisiac, but saying his name was conceding your defeat. 

As if you hadn’t lost the second you’d set foot in this hotel.  

And it slips out when his fingers pinch your clit, a truly pathetic whine of “S-Satrou,” pushing past your lips only to be swallowed by his delighted groan and his mouth covering yours. He would be getting everything he wanted, and your nausea only intensifies before it’s pushed down by the pleasure you begin to feel as he pushes your legs back while praising how good and tight you felt and how he hoped to break your pussy so only he could have it for the rest of your life. This fucking aphrodisiac would make sure of it, and you know he’d keep dosing you to keep you compliant with what he wanted. Satoru Gojo didn’t take no for an answer. 

His pace becomes unbearably slow, you’re not sure if it’s frustrating because of the need bubbling in your core from the aphrodisiac or the fact that you just wanted this to end. Your attempt at meeting his thrusts is met with a shake of his head and a whispered request that you let him take care of you, his words heavy with an intimacy that you didn’t want to have directed at you and hate that you had any reaction to it. To keep you from moving, his large hands grip your thighs to hold them back - also providing him an angle to allow for his thrusts to reach deeper inside your already tormented cunt. The groan that leaves him is almost primal, eyes darkening as he leans in again and forces your legs to your chest. 

“I’m gonna fill you,” he whispers, sending a chill down your spine. “Are you ready?”

You shake your head, knowing you weren’t getting any semblance of a choice but hoping he’d maybe pull out. You also had to hope that Shoko wasn’t in on this, too. Because she would be able to swap anything you might request out for a placebo if Gojo told her to. Bastard had it all mapped out, you were sure. 

“Satoru, please, you can’t-”

You’re cut off by his groan, your cunt being flooded by the sheer amount of his cum that makes your body feel impossibly hotter while he tilts your body back more, tears rolling down your cheeks that have him grinning before resting his head on the pillow against yours. And you lie there with your thighs pushed back and his hands holding you in place, his breathing heavy and hot against your ear. His hips pressed flush against yours, every other moment pulling back a bit only to push himself back in, a pleasured sigh leaving him every so often and fanning your cheek with his hot breath.  

“You did so well. So good for me, darling,” he purrs into your ear, carefully nipping at your lobe before trailing a line of kisses down your neck. “Ijichi is bound to start getting suspicious, so I can’t keep you here all night. But let's get dinner and drinks after we file your report, then you can come to my place and we’ll continue this assessment of your skills so I can comfortably approve your promotion.”

He knows what he’s doing. With your limbs easily pinned down, his cock still snugly plugged in your cunt, you couldn’t go anywhere unless he allowed it - and he wouldn’t allow it until he got the answer he wanted. The answer you desperately didn’t want to give because you wanted to be anywhere but by his side. But you nod anyway, teary eyes meeting his hopeful gaze as you whisper, “I’d really like that, Satoru.”

“I knew you would. Gotta thank Mei for giving me a pretty little girlfriend.”

[vurelly]

Hi! I got sent over here by Bamsara to ask your opinions on a good starter/durable drawing tablet! Honestly probably woulda come over here anyways ‘cause I follow you both!

yEAAAAAAAAAAS I got so many starter tablets under my belt. (Note, these are all pen tablets, not DISPLAY tablets so if you'd like any info on those I'd be happy to help!)

I personally started with a Wacom Intuos (kept it for about 12 years before I threw it), and honestly there's a lot of positives and negatives with it. On the upside, it is ASTOUNDINGLY durable, it's a great size for transportation, and Wacom is a well-known and otherwise trustworthy brand. On the downside, Wacom has been notorious for not updating drivers on older products, the pen pressure leaves a lot to be desired, and Wacom's pricing is usually on the upper end.

A good follow-up for a similar price is the Huion HS610 series, it's also one of my personal favorites. It's got quite a larger capture area than the Intuos, they're extremely lightweight, the drivers update frequently (even for out of date models), the pen pressure is utterly divine, and the amount of accessories included makes up for the slightly steeper price. On the downside, because of it's larger size, it is a bit more difficult to travel with, but if you draw primarily from home it's a very good fit.

And if neither of these brands do it for you, the XP-Pen's 01 V2 might be a good fit (and on sale for $47.99 right now!). While I haven't personally owned this one, it was one I did quite a bit of research on when looking for a replacement when my Intuos started giving me trouble a while back. The Deco series comes in multiple sizes, colors, and wired/wireless settings (look for the series on the website, I've only linked the 01 V2), they come with multiple accessories and adapters for both PC and mobile phone use, the pen pressure has been relatively well reviewed, and the price beats out both Wacom and Huion. Unfortunately, because I haven't personally owned this one I can't speak on the drawbacks of the tablet, but from what I see they're a well reviewed brand overall.

Hope this helps!

[toskarin]

how did you get started making music, tools-wise?

I've talked about this a bit before and I don't necessarily recommend doing this, so skip the following two paragraphs and go right to the one under the break if you actually want the method I recommend

I lied to a girl I liked from my school and told her that, because I could play guitar I could also play piano, so I could teach her to play piano. both of these statements were lies.

I had to panic and learn both guitar and piano one week ahead of the lessons I was giving her as an excuse to hang out. so I self-taught in a haze of panic and "maybe she'll like me" (she did not) (but she kind of did) (but she was bicurious) (but she was wishy-washy on if she wanted to get together and her parents didn't like me) (and her parents were homophobic) (I think she might have texted me at one point years down the line to tell me she had a girlfriend but it was after I deleted our text history and I'm chronically unable to remember to put people's names into my contacts so who knows)

but that's all an aside. that's a bad method.

anyway if you want to start making music in earnest, doing what I did when I got serious about making songs instead of trying to impress girls whose parents wanted to destroy me with their minds here's a better answer

go acquire FL Studio. it's apparently really easy to do this because people have been acquiring it for years, or so I've heard. FL is good for learning because you've got 20 years worth of free tutorials available to you on youtube to dig through and plenty of stock vsts to play with out of the box

FL Studio is, realistically, the only tool you actually need to start making music. you could get away with less, but it's what I used, and as long as you don't pick up Specific Bad Habits, your experience with it will transfer to other DAWs if you decide to switch it later

that's all, really

if you go this route, the golden rule I'm going to impart on you right now is that you need to have a limiter on your songs. the default FL studio song templates have one, so you should keep it until you know enough to know why you might adjust something like that

it doesn't matter if it sounds fine in the editor without a limiter. everyone thinks it's not a big deal at the time, but as you get more experienced, there's literally nothing short of getting in legal trouble that you'll regret more than realising that your old work is almost entirely unsalvageable because you didn't put a limiter on it and now half of the audio is just lost data to clipping

I'm gonna put a few more recommendations for things I've used, just so you can consider them if you need something else to chew on. everything past this point is entirely optional and you'll do just fine with FL Studio alone. in fact, probably don't worry about everything below the line

-=-

items marked with [F] are free.

DIGITAL AUDIO WORKSTATIONS THAT AREN'T FL

for tracker-based editing and chiptunes, use Renoise. you'll either love or hate trackers, and while they have a steeper learning curve than piano roll DAWs, they might come more naturally to you. I personally think that Renoise is a lot of fun to use. it kinda has an "addictive" quality to it, as funny as that is to say

for quickly sketching songs, use [F]Jummbox. it's an html workstation (multiplatform!) that writes your sketches to a url, meaning it's pretty easy to collaborate on musical sketches. Jummbox is good for making chiptune style instrumentals, but what makes it especially accessible is the fact that it works on a piano roll system, which will be familiar to you if you're working in FL

for writing sheet music, I recommend starting with [F]Musescore. I'll warn you right now that there aren't really any good notation editors and you're making lesser-of-evils decisions when you pick any of them, but it's probably the best compromise out there right now. it's the one I use when I need to hand something to a physical musician. you can also export pieces as midi, although there's better ways to do that lol

-

VSTs

if you can acquire Pianoteq, do that. if you feel uncomfortable with acquiring it, [F]Keyzone Classic is free and can sound pretty nice with a bit of work, but you really have to learn to work with it

if your workstation can handle it performance-wise, go pick up [F]Vital - Spectral Warping Wavetable Synth. there's tons of free presets for this out there and it sounds good. cool synth. Serum: Advanced Wavetable Synthesizer is also good and has plenty of presets, but it's on the pricy side, so consider how comfortable you are with [finding a friend to buy it for you]

[F]Decent Sampler doesn't do much out of the box, because it's just a tool for playing sample banks, but if you go to [F]Pianobook, you can find tons of weird and fun sample packs of just about everything you can imagine. sounds derived from folk instruments, industrial equipment, lego sets, stylophones, choirs, whatever. incredibly useful.

Valhalla VintageVerb. this is the reverb plugin. you want this one. [F]Valhalla Super Massive is also good but it's more focused on alien-sounding reverb effects and enormous spaces, so it's kind of got a niche use case and you should be a little careful with it

if you've heard a lo-fi hip hop song on youtube, it probably used [F]iZotope Vinyl. this one can save you a lot of time if you're going for that sound because it comes with all the little vinyl flourishes outside of compression (like dust crackling) that you'd otherwise have to add yourself

[F]Genny VST is advertised as giving a genesis/megadrive sound, but what actually makes it shine is that it's an actual synth emulating the YM2612 and SN76489 sound chips. this means you can create your own sounds that work within those specs, which is a lot of fun! definitely beats just using samples, if you ask me

-

HARSH VSTS THAT I PERSONALLY LIKE BUT WHICH ALSO MIGHT !!HURT!! YOU. SO BE VERY CAREFUL USING THESE.

[F]Tritik Krush is a bitcrushing plugin. it does a good job of bitcrushing and downsampling. I use it a lot in my songs, but you've really gotta know how to keep this one under control, because it's fully capable of making painful sounds on accident and can completely devour your mix

[F]FSA Latcher is a gorgeous noisebox. it screams in horrible ways and makes dying machine noises in various colours. this is the musical equivalent of working with radioactive material, so be extremely careful using this in anything you don't want to hurt the listener's ears

girlfriend just told me I have to recommend [F]Noise Engineering Ruina to you if I'm making a category with this heading. I don't personally use it, but she likes it (she's better at music than I am) and it's free, so you should go pick it up. "it annihilates sounds very deliciously" (maybe I should use it)

-

hope that helps a bit!

[kyber-kisses]

Here In The Dark

Captain Rex x Jedi!Reader

Summary: while on a scouting mission the Reader and Rex are forced to find shelter when an unexpected blizzard hits.

Warnings: minor injuries, mutual pining😈, Rex being his socially awkward self-

A/N: this is purely self indulgent and it’s probably crap but enjoy!

“Yep it’s decided. I’m gonna kill him. I’m gonna kill Anakin.”

“Little dramatic dont you think?”

Shifting in the knee deep snow, you turned to give Rex and icy stare that rivaled the weather around you. “No. All I think is that when we make it back to base camp I’m gonna force throw him into the nearest sun.”

It was supposed to be a simple scouting mission across the northern ridge line. Blue skies and warm weather the whole time. Nothing to worry about.

At least that’s what Anakin had told you.

And what a fool you were to think he was right.

Because now the sun had long since set and a horrific blizzard was bearing down and you and the captain as the both of you struggled through the almost waist deep snow. Your comma had long since lost contact with base camp now leaving you and Rex completely alone on the darkened mountain side as sheets of heavy snow slammed into you with even stronger winds.

The only positive was that at least you were with Rex. If you were with anyone else you probably would have buried them in the snow somewhere. For example: Anakin.

If Anakin were here you would have buried him the the powder a good few miles back.

“You know stomping around all bitterly isn’t gonna help the situation.” Rexs voice cut through the wind slightly as he trudged besides you.

“Says the one with the helmet on that protects his face from the wind and the cold.” You grumbled, feeling snowflakes stick to your eyelashes as you blinked. “Can you hand me your nightscope?”

“Sure thing.” Once the device had been procured to halted in your tracks, ignoring the way the wind and snow whipped your hair around your face as you looked through the night vision scope.

You had hoped for better quality but with the heavy falling snow and winds the screen was a mess of fuzz for the most part. You were still practically stumbling around blind.

“Let me have a try.” Extending his hand once more, you dropped the scope back into Rexs possession watching through squinted eyes as he surveyed the land with the scope.

“Anything?”

“Two clicks to the east.” The captain spoke, pointing his finger into the dark before passing the scope back to you.

It wasn’t much but it was something. Through the fuzzy landscape you could just barely make out a dark blotch against the side of the ridge. “Cave maybe?”

“Here’s to hoping. We don’t really have any other options.” Rex shrugged, clipping the scope back onto his belt before moving forward with you in tow.

You and Rex stuck as close to eachother as you could in fear of losing one another in the white-out conditions. Cold bit at every inch of your body wether it was exposed or not, it seeped into the cradles of your boots and made its way in the fabric of your gloves. No part of you was safe.

“Commander, here.” At the sound of Rexs out of breath voice you picked your eyes up from where they had been focusing on the ground, only to find he had stopped, extending his hand to help you up the steeper incline. You took it graciously, allowing him to keep the two of you tethered the remainder of the way.

The two of you were practically in the cave before you knew you had even reached it. One moment you were at the mouth and the next you were sliding through it. The cave led ever so slightly downward a few feet before flattening out completely, Rex assisting you down as the two of you moved away from the howling winds and ice pellets that battered the mountain side.

Before you could even reach for your own flashlight, Rex was clicking his on, a bright beam of cold white light cutting through the darkness as he scanned the inside of the cave, his hand hovering over his blaster.

“No one’s here Rex. I can feel it.”

All you could feel in the force was you and Rex, along with the dull vibrations of the rock and dirt beneath you. There were no other life forms. As the beam danced across the cave walls you made sure to make note of everything. It was small, the cave ceiling on three or four feet above your head and it’s entire size couldn’t have been bigger than your quarters aboard the Resolute.

Shrugging off the survival pack that had been on your back you dropped it to the floor, fingers still too cold to do anything that mattered.

“I’ll get a fire going.” Digging into the bag himself, the captain pulled out a cinder kit.

“I can help.”

Kneeling down on the cave floor next to Rex, you helped set up the small device. Normally all it would take was one small click of the button but of course said button was broken.

“You’re lucky you got stuck out here with a Jedi with my abilities.” Musing lightly you cupped your hands and brought them to your lips, warming them up in whatever way you could before rubbing them together. When you finally got a small spark you let out a sigh of relief before sharply snapping your fingers together to produce a small flame. “Aha still got it!”

“When we’re you gonna tell me you could do that?” Besides you, Rex watched the tiny flame dance across the top of your finger tip in wonder.

Shrugging slightly, you brought the flame down to the cinder box and a moment later a much larger flame leapt forth, brightening the cavern exponentially. “Right now.”

“Can all Jedi do that?”

“No unfortunately. It’s a skill only a handful of us possess.”

“Well nice work Commander.”

A small smile tugged on your lips. “Thank you.”

If someone had told you this morning that you would be spending the night holed up in a cavern on the side of some mountain int he middle of a blizzard with Rex you would have laughed. . . Yet here you were.

And honestly there were worse places you could be.

“You doing alright commander?” Standing up from where he had been knelt on the floor, Rex wiped off his gloves before giving you a concerned look.

“I’m fine all things considered. You?”

“Never better.”

As the heat of the fire filled the cavern you peeled off your boots, your socks following suit as you laid them out next to the dancing flame. The fire would do l it take to help you if you were sitting around in soaking wet clothes.

And at that thought you began peeling of the layers of your Jedi robes, oblivious to the fact that Rex had flushed a deep red before averting his gaze from you. When you were done all the remained on your body was the solid black undergarment you wore. It was once peace and didn’t have any sleeves but it went down to your mid thighs in a way that made it look sort of like a unitard. It was the only dry piece of clothing you had left.

You were half way through pulling out both of the therma-blankets from the pack when you realized Rexs back was turned to you, his hand awkwardly on his hip as he face the mouth of the cave.

“Rex? Are you alright?”

His posture straightened ever so slightly at his name. “Of course commander! Just wanted- just wanted to give you some privacy that’s all.”

His words hit you suddenly as you looked down at your much more exposed body, now understanding. “Oh.”

You hadn’t even thought about how Rex might react to that. You had been friends with him for so long you didn’t even think twice.

Wrapping one of the reflective therma blankets around your shoulders, you padded across the floor of the cave, reaching out to gently grab his shoulder. “You don’t need to worry about that. I don’t mind. Just be glad I’m not walking around full on nude.” You joked lightly, once more unaware of the deepening red creeping up Rex’s face.

When he didn’t say anything you felt a slight frown slip across your features. He was acting weird. Very weird.

“You should get out of that armor. This type wasn’t meant for the cold climates such as this.” You waved your hands, gesturing to the weather beyond the mouth of the cave. “Add that to the list of reasons on why I’m gonna kill Anakin when we get back. He should of had us prepare better.”

At that you got a light chuckle out of Rex, the clone captain turning slightly to look over his shoulder at you.

“I’ll be fine commander.”

You sent him a warning stare. “As both your superior and friend I’m telling you if you don’t get out of that armor right now I will start peeling it off you. You need to stay warm and this?” You knocked your hand against the plastoid armor, your teeth chattering slightly as you spoke, giving away the fact that you were still cold. “This isn’t gonna help you.”

At your words the captain let a heavy sigh before raising his hands to undo the clasps of his chest plate which you took gently from him before sitting it against the wall next to the pack. You repeated the action several more times until all his armor was stacked neatly to the side.

“See? I bet you’re warmer already?” You mused, looking up at him with a small smile as you gently rested your hand against his chest momentarily.

Beneath your touch Rex shivered, the feeling foreign to him enough to elicit a physical response. If you had felt it you didn’t say anything.

In truth, you had Rex wrapped around your finger. (Not that you knew). From the moment you joined the 501st as its other Jedi- commander you had Rexs complete loyalty and respect. You came walking on the bridge with your kinda smile and even kinder eyes and Rex swore he melted.

And now here he was in some cave with a half naked you.

Force, he had a way of always ending up in weird and awkward situations.

“You hungry? I know there’s like a weeks worth of ration bars int he front ouch of the pack?”

“I’m alright commander, but thank you.” Moving past you, Rex lowered himself to the ground in front of the fire, leaning back against the cave wall behind him with a heavy sigh.

Beneath his gloves he squeezed his fingers into a fist, repeating the action several times before it caught your attention.

“Your hands are cold aren’t they?”

“Nothing I can’t deal with commander. I’ve been through worse.”

At his words you rolled your eyes before sitting down in front of him and tucking your knees to your chest. ���Why must you clones all be so stubborn?”

“I am not stubb—“

Rexs words felt flat as he suddenly felt your hands gently taking his. Turning his head he watched once more with a sudden blush on his cheeks as you carefully removed his gloves and tossed them to the floor.

Your fingers danced over the calloused skin of his palms as if memorizing every bump and scar before you cupped his hands and brought them to your lips before breathing a gentle plume of hot air into them. Curious brown eyes watched you as you placed a gentle kiss to his finger tips before shifting to grip his hands fully in your own.

“And it’s Y/N by the way.”

Rexs brain seemed to have short circuited because he had no clue as to what you were talking about. “. . . What?”

“Back on base it’s Commander this and Commander that. Here? I’m just Y/N. No need for the formalities. I call you Rex don’t I?”

“I mean, yeah I guess?”

You nodded slowly, dropping Rex’s hands as you moved to adjust the blanket around your shoulders when a shiver ran through your body.

“Still cold?”

“A bit. These therma- blankets only do so much.” You explained, look down at the reflective material that you currently had wrapped around you.

“ I can agree with you on that.” Rex sent you a small grin as he paused. “We should stay close together though. It will help contain our body heat.”

It took everything in the poor captain to not stumble over his words at the thought of staying so close to each other.

“Good call.” You nodded before standing back up and walking across the cave floor to grab the other therma-blanket at the two compact bed rolls that you had also carried with you.

The only problem was you couldn’t get the damn packaging opening. Though your own hands had warmed exponentially your fingers were still shaky as you tried to break to wrapping on the sleeping pads. After a moment you let out a string of curses.

“Kriffing hell, who in the force packed these damn th-“

“Here, let me try.” An arm suddenly reached over your shoulder, taking the package from your hands.

Letting out a defeated sigh you nodded as you turned. “Thank you, Re-“

If there were any other words you were supposed to say they no longer existed as you came face to face with Rex’s bare chest. The clone pausing in his action when he saw you had turned, almost instantly the red returned to his cheeks.

“My Uh- my shirt was still wet. Thought it would be best to let it dry with everything else—“ he stuttered slightly, apparently oblivious to the pink that had now graced your cheeks as well.

Another shiver went up your body along with a small choked sound departing your lips.

At that Rex frowned, suddenly kneeling down to grab the other therma-blanket and wrap it snuggly around you. “Still cold?”

Oh. Oh your sweet, awkward, oblivious captain thought the shiver was from you being cold. Kriff, he was gonna be the end of you.

You went sure if it was how tired you were or whatever was happening in front of you but out of nowhere your knees buckled and you went down. . . Or you would have if Rex hadn’t reached out and caught you, warm study arms securing you safely to his chest as he lowered you softly to the ground.

“Oops.”

“Comman- Y/N? Are you alright?”

“Just a little case of jelly legs.” You laughed awkwardly, Rex looking at you with a concerned gaze.

“Stay here.”

Humming a response you settled onto your butt ont he floor of the cave, watching as Rex peeled the sleeping pads out of their packaging, the pads instantly beginning to inflate.

You didn’t even get a chance to move once they were full before Rex was suddenly picking you up yet again and settling you down on one and securely tucking the therma-blankets around you.

“That better?”

You hummed a response, watching Rex with a new type of wonder as you did.

“Get some sleep. I’ll take watch tonight and we can head out at first light once the storm has moved passed.” He explained, standing up to move away.

You could see goosebumps prickling his skin as he moved away and before he could get any further you had gotten up from your sleeping pad and quickly gone after him. He had barely turned around before you were wrapping him in a hug, the warmth of his skin flush against your own as you did.

At this point Rex had lost track of the amount of times you had gotten him to blush, the sudden contact of you against his body making his goosebumps more apparent.

“You need to stay warm too.” You spoke softly, pulling off one of the blankets as you did before moving to wrap it snugly around his broad shoulders. Once that was done you grabbed his hand once more and tugged him back across the cavern, onto pausing once to nudge the two sleeping pads together with your foot.

“What are you-“

Collapsing onto the first one, you parted at the vacant spot next to you. “C’mon. Don’t worry about keeping watch tonight. Nothings out here. . . Except us.”

Rex gave a concerned glance towards the mouth of the cave. He didn’t like the idea of no one standing guard. . . But at the same time he was cold and tired and he wanted nothing more than to fall onto that sleeping mat next to you.

The captain let out a sigh of defeat as he did just that, a sort of shy smile crossing his lips as he did. With his back resting against the smooth stone of the cave wall, he settled onto the sleeping mat, inhaling deeply when you moved closer to him to the point in which the skin of your arms were flush against eachother.

“You’re like a walking furnace you know that?” Letting out a relaxed sigh, you rested your head against Rex’s shoulder, curling up closer to him as you did.

“Heh, I don’t really feel like it.”

Everything in Rexs body wanted to shiver at the contact of your skin against his, but he belt fast. Instead trying to focus his attention on the firelight dancing across the caves walls.

There was a few good minutes of long silence which allowed Rex to believe you had fallen asleep, but after another moment you spoke up.

“Rex?”

“Hmm?”

“Can I ask you a weird question?”

“You ask me weird questions all the time.”

You let out a tired laugh, picking up your head to look at him. “Have you ever been kissed before?”

At that Rex fell silent, glancing awkwardly around the room. “No offense but that not what I was expecting.”

Sitting up properly you fiddled with your fingers. You could face down Sith Lords and swarms of droids and remain unfazed. . . But this? This was the thing that was making you awkward. Funny how the universe worked.

“I just, I really wanna kiss you l. I know we’ve been friends for years but how could I not get feelings for you because your so kind and patient and caring and loyal and I just- you’re brilliant in every way imaginable and here we are in this cave in the middle of nowhere and I don’t know if I’ll get a chance lie or his again and I think maybe you feel the same about me and I-“ you paused, look over at the bewildered look on Rexs face. “I’m rambling aren’t I?”

“I- Uh. . . Yeah maybe a little-“Rex spoke slowly, clearly showing he was trying to wrap his head around everything that had just come out of your mouth.

“See, and now I’ve made everything awkward!” You wailed, your face falling into your hands as you did.

“No! No-“ sitting up besides you, the captain reached towards you, pulling your hands away from your face before awkwardly reaching up to scratch the back of his neck. “I just- I’ve never really kissed anyone. I don’t want to do it wrong or anything-“

This time both of your were blushing, red cheeks inches from each-other as you looked at Rex with wide eyes.

“That doesn’t matter to me. You’re just so brilliant and amazing and the force feels warmer when I’m around you and-“

Neither of you had realized how you had both slowly begun navigating towards each-other, your nose Alamo touching as you looked at each-other, eyes wide and curious.

“Y/N.” Rexs voice was soft. Softer than you had ever heard it, but it captured you all the same.

You didn’t know how he did it, but Rex had reached into a place deep inside you and brought something forth you had yet to think about. A realization in a way.

“I have so many names now that I think about it.” You whispered, almost as if he had put you in a trance. “Padawan, Knight, commander Y/L/N, Y/N— but here?” You voice grew quieter. “Here in the dark, with you? I have no name. I am just me. Entirely me.”

Both set of eyes flickered downwards and you and Rex closed the gap between you as equals. It was a shy kiss but when Rex slowly deepened it you couldn’t help the small gasp of surprise that escaped you before you melted further into him. His hands were warm now and they cradled your face so delicately and beneath your palm his chest radiated heat. He was like being wrapped in pure sunlight.

He pulled back slowly after a moment, looking downward somewhat shyly. “Was that ok?”

“Everything you do is always more than ok-“ it was as if you had been put into a dazed state by his lips, your body settling against his as you sunk lower onto your mat, your head against Rex’s chest. Beneath your ear his heartbeat thumped rhythmically and for the first time that night you both felt warm.

Maybe you wouldn’t kill Anakin when you got back to base.

[amiserableseriesofevents]

[giving them a panicked hug] "no, no, no, no!" OR "shit, no, that's not what i meant." (if one of them inspires you dear 🥰)

After a week spent hiking, it's their turn! Modern AU, not Such Stuff related 🥰🏔️

John has been acting weird for weeks, and for the life of him Gale can't understand why.

For starters, he personally suggested the location for their holiday, a task that usually Gale takes on; one day he came home to a depliant of a quaint camping site in the mountains, amidst the nature, with suggestions on several hiking trails. It's not the first holiday they've spent hiking, they both like to stay outside and breath fresh air when they're not in the office and they're both in good enough shape to take on even steeper trails if the view is worth it, and it seemed like this particular place meant a lot to John so Gale had agreed to his plan, secretly pleased that he was the one taking the initiative for once.

That was only the first weirdness, though.

Since then, John keeps acting like he's hiding something and he's such a terrible liar that Gale knows something is going on, he just knows it.

He packed his own suitcase without accepting any help from Gale, and he triple checked everything before leaving when he's usually one to shrug and say he'll deal with it even if he forgets to pack something crucial like a clean pair of pants or a toothbrush. If it were winter Gale would think John's hiding his birthday present; but it's fucking July, their anniversary is not coming for two more months, and Gale cannot think about another date worth celebrating.

The strangest thing though happened just this morning, when they were getting ready for the hike and John dressed all in blue – an extremely sober choice for him that usually wears clashing colors like a hot pink tank top with yellow shorts and neon green socks. “Are you feeling alright?” Gale ventured to ask him, genuinely worried.

“Yeah of course Buck, why?” Was John's answer, with a hint of hysterics in his voice, so Gale decided to not push him; whatever is going on with him, sooner or later Bucky will tell him.

The hike he's chosen for today is splendid: a narrow dirt track amongst tall trees whose shadow provide a welcome respite from the summer heat, the air filled with the fragrant smell of resin and dirt. John told him there's a lake waiting for them at the end of the trail, with several bits of sandy shore all around where they can lie their picnic blanket and rest after the long walk.

“It's pear shaped, you know Buck? The lake I mean,” John tells him, his rambling never stopping even when he'd need to save his breath. “It's great, you're gonna love it. The water's a bit cold but no worse than Lake Michigan.”

“You came here with your family, right?”

“Yup, for three summers when I was a kid. I've always wanted to come back and I thought, what better chance to do it than, ah, with you, my love,” John answers, clearly almost giving up his secret. Gale feels his gaze on him, nervous, and he smiles back at him, grabbing his hand. He's not usually the type for PDA, but they're alone in a forest and John seems to be needing it, so Gale weaves their fingers together and they keep walking like that for a while, careful not to jostle each other on the uneven ground.

“I'm happy you decided to bring me here,” Gale says after a while. “Thank you for always sharing these things with me, John. It means a whole lot.”

John pulls him closer for a kiss, then stares seriously in his eyes. “I'll always share everything with you Buck, I promise,” he tells him. Gale hesitates, wondering if that's John way of suggesting him to ask about whatever he's hiding right now, but then John's focus shifts back to the trail and he decides to drop the subject.

After an hour or so they reach the last part of the trail, the hardest one: a steep staircase carved into the side of the mountain, more or less thirty steps to reach the other side before climbing down to the lake's shore.

“Once we're up there we'll be able to see the lake!” John exclaims, his childish enthusiasm making him all the more jittery, a smile on his face wider than any Gale has seen before.

Gale goes first, eager to catch a glimpse on the view. The sun beats down on him, unforgiving, and he feels beads of sweat forming along his hairline, his t-shirt progressively more and more stuck to his back. There are more step than John remembered, bordering on sixty, but once Gale reaches the top he immediately forgives him for his inaccuracy because the view is truly breathtaking: the lake is blue, the deepest blue Gale has ever seen in his life, and the light hits it just right so that parts of its surface look like they're made of shimmering diamonds. All around the shore there are more tall trees, their bright green in contrast with the sapphire hue of the water and the turquoise of the sky, dotted here and there with fluffy white clouds.

Gale leans back against the rock wall, breathless and mesmerized. He hears John reaching the peak after him but doesn't turn too him, too entranced by the view. “John. It's the most beautiful thing I've ever seen,” he says, voice shaky with wonder.

“I know, right?” John says, and by the mirth in his voice Gale knows that he's looking at him and not at the view. He turns to him, ready to affectionately scold him, and he finds him down on one knee with a small box in hand.

His brain short-circuits.

“No!”

How did he not think about it? Every single one of John's weirdnesses of the past few months suddenly makes sense: he chose a place that meant a lot to him, dressed all nice for Gale, and waited for the best possible moment to propose. He can't believe it. It was so obvious, so-

It's only when he notices that John has gone pale, his eyes wide with confusion and heartbreak, that he realizes he's spoken out loud. John got down on one knee to propose, and he shouted no at him.

“No?" John asks, little more than a whimper.

"Shit, no, that's not what I meant!” Gale says, frantically trying to make up for his mistake. “It was a no to me, not to you! Because I've been trying to understand what was going on with you for weeks and now that I know it was so obvious, I can't believe I couldn't see it!”

“...so?” John asks, still on one knee.

“Ask the question. I promise I'm not gonna say no.”

“You promise?”

Gale nods, and John takes a deep breath. “Buck, my love, will you marry me?”

“Yes!” Gale shouts, louder than the no he spoke before, and throws himself at John when the other rises back on his feet, kissing him with all the passion and joy he can muster.

“Buck, the ring!” John tells him between kisses, and Gale reluctantly lets him go; there are tears on John's face and in his eyes, but Gale hopes they're of happiness just like the ones he feels wet on his cheeks.

The ring is beautiful, a simple silver band with a B engraved on the inside. “It's perfect, John” Gale tells him, beaming.

John gives him a kiss on the tip of the nose. “Never do something like that again,” he half threatens, half pleads. “I was about to throw myself in the lake from here.”

“I promise. I'll make it up to you.”

“Your wedding vows better be fucking fire, Buck.”

[thechaoticdruid]

Hunted [1/2]

Astarion x Named! Tav (Winnie)

Plot: While traveling through the mountain pass the tadfools stumble upon an abandoned wagon full of goodies.

Content/Warnings: MDNI, Mention of a severed limb, Smut towards the end, PiV sex, fingering, female Tav, She/Her pronouns.

Part [2/2]

The mountain range was warm as the sun beat down on it. Winnie and her merry band of weirdos had begun to search for the Githyanki creché. There was a slight cool breeze blowing through the mountains as the warm sun kissed down upon the earth. The druid stretched out her arms with a grunt. It was indeed a very lovely day, and the scenery was absolutely breathtaking.

“Too bad we can't hang around here for a while.” Winnie said as she looked over the horizon. She was standing close (but not too close) to the edge of a cliff. The wind whipped through her hair as she sighed. 

“Yes it is quite the shame. These mountains are truly a sight to behold.” Gale exclaimed. 

“They're tediously steep is what they are. If I have to climb any further my legs will give out.” Astarion huffed. 

“I'd be willing to carry you if you ask nicely, my fair maiden.” Winnie teased him. Astarion rolled his eyes but smirked.

“Oh? Well aren't you chivalrous. You might make the others jealous if you keep spoiling me like this, darling. “ Astarion winked playfully. Winnie blushed darkly as she tried to think up what to say next. She was shit at flirting.  

Before either of them could speak Scratch began to bark at something off  in the distance. A crashed and seemingly abandoned wagon came into view as they got closer.

“Do you see anyone nearby?” Wyll asked as he inspected the cargo, “this must have belonged to someone.”

“Well whoever they were, they're gone now. Probably dead. More loot for us then!” Astarion grinned.

“We can't jump to conclusions, Astarion. They could still be around here. They might be injured.”

“I think they might be a bit more than injured.” Winnie stated before pulling a severed hand out from under the wagon. 

“Gods above.” Wyll gasped.

“Well that explains that. Let's see what treasures the dead have left us, hm?” Astarion looked through the cargo, opening up a trunk and skimming through the contents. Winnie looked over his shoulder eyes spotting a green folded up dress. She grabbed hold of it and looked it over.

“Hmph! It's just a bunch of junk!” Astarion complained and threw some old books over onto the ground.

“Have you no respect for literature?!” Gale quickly picked up the books off the ground and examined them.

“What you got there, soldier?” Karlach asked, approaching Winnie from behind. 

“Just a dress, it actually looks pretty new.” Winnie hummed as she folded it up in her arms. 

“Let me know if you find a pair of hiking boots. I fear these mountains will only get steeper.” Shadowheart added.  

Winnie turned off to the side as she continued to look down at the dress. She couldn't really remember the last time she wore one. It had to have probably been back when she was a child. 

Eventually the party continued on through the mountains eventually setting up camp as the terrain got flatter and the sun began to set.

Winnie set up her bedroll a bit away from the others per usual, but tonight she couldn't help but continue to look at the dress curiously. When the others weren't looking she slipped behind a tree and quickly changed into the dress. She looked down at herself and smiled slightly. The dress was a little big on her which made her feel smaller than she actually was. She looked into her pack and took out her hand mirror to examine how the dress looked on herself when she noticed her herb pouch was empty.

“Shit. Guess I'll need to get some more.” She sighed in annoyance. Winnie looked back at the others. They probably wouldn't even notice she'd slipped away if she was quick. She just needed a few things. Winnie pulled her boots and pack on before sneaking away into the forest. 

The air had a nice earthy smell to it. A slight breeze was blowing through the trees as the stars shone above, illuminating her path.  

The druid sniffed the air, searching for the herbs she'd come for, however as the scent of flora hit her senses so did another familiar aroma. Winnie glanced around in the dark. Her lack of dark vision made it quite difficult to identify her surroundings, but she was able to pick up the glow of eyes watching her from afar. 

Without another thought Winnie turned and began to run, the sound of leaves and sticks crunching behind her as a shadowed figure began to chase after her. She picked up the pace, sprinting through the grass. Adrenaline was coursing through her body. Her heart was pounding and she began to pant a bit, becoming winded. 

She'd honestly forgotten why she was running at that point and let out a series of giggles before suddenly tripping and tumbling over into the grass, her pursuer quick to pounce.

“A-Astarion!” She giggled feeling herself be pinned to the forest floor as the red eyed figure chuckled above. The vampire smiles, fangs glinting in the moonlight.

“Hello darling, out for a midnight stroll are we?” His voice was smooth as silk. The scent of bergamot wafers over her senses. Despite him quite literally stalking her like  prey in the middle of the night, his smell was comforting to her.

He was like a big playful kitten when you got to know him better.  

“What are you doing?” Winnie asked him, suddenly feeling him move a little hair behind her ear as he gazed at her. 

“What any creature of the night does. The real question is what are you doing out here by yourself?” The elven vampire hummed.

“I ran out of some herbs I needed for healing potions so I went out to find some.” Winnie replied honestly. 

“And you decided to venture out alone wearing only this lovely dress? How careless of you. You're lucky some ravenous beast didn't appear and decide to devour you.” 

“Perhaps I wanted to be devoured…” Winnie murmured, a slight blush spreading upon her face.

“My, isn't that a delicious idea?~” Astarion purred out, hand stroking up the druid's leg. “I must admit it is rather delightful seeing you all dolled up like this.” Winnie shivered, feeling Astarion's cold fingertips glide across the skin of her thigh as he sneakily slipped a hand under the dress. His pointed nails gently grazed over her tender flesh. 

“Not that I dislike your usual attire, but this certainly has its benefits.” He practically purred as his fingers crawled further up her leg, beginning to teasingly stroke her through her underwear. 

“Ahh..” Winnie covered her mouth quickly, face turning red. Astarion looked down at her, eyes softening. 

“Do you want me to stop?” He asked, voice barely above a whisper as he pulled up her dress, revealing her soft cushy thighs. 

“No. Please don't.” Winnie looked up at him, eyes round and puppy like.  Astarion lifted up her leg, kissing along her calf slowly as he moved up her thigh.  Fangs just barely teasing her skin. 

“A-Astarion..” Winnie gasped out, catching the vampire’s attention. “Could we move it along? I don't want anyone to come looking for us…” She said with a deep blush. 

The elven vampire chuckled, “you're awfully eager tonight aren't you, pet?” 

Winnie looked off to the side in embarrassment. He wasn't completely wrong.  Their little game of chase had gotten her blood pumping among other things. The brunette haired druid would have never thought she'd ever find herself actually turned on by the idea of being hunted. But her pursuer seemed to be an exception. Winnie knew he wouldn't hurt her, not physically at least. She'd grown to trust him, despite her companions always reminding her not to let her guard down around him. Astarion purses his lips in thought as his crimson eyes scanned her.

“Beg. I want you to beg for your pleasure.” Astarion smirked.

“P-Please.” Winnie whimpered out feeling his move back to her clothed groin, rubbing her through her underwear.

“Mmm…Again lover.” He purred.

“Please!” Winnie begged feeling him slid her panties to the side and slip two fingers inside her.

“Very good. Now tell me what you want.~”

“Y-You…” She huffed.

“Be a little more specific my sweet. What is it you want from me?” He cooed, curling his fingers inside her.

“Take me. Astarion please. I want you to take me, bite me, whatever you want. I'm yours!” Winnie exclaimed, squirming a bit in anticipation. Astarion was slightly taken back by her words, not quite expecting them. He quickly resumed his seductive mask, pulling his fingers out of her and licking them slowly. He then proceeded to undo his pants and slide them down just enough to free his cock before positioning himself between her legs. Winnie moved closer, wrapping her arms around his neck as he moved her panties to the side. 

With a soft grunt the silver haired vampire pushed into her, causing her to cry out noisily. Astarion let out a pleasured sigh, slowly inching himself into her.  Winnie leaned forward pressing her lips to his in a needy kiss, moaning into his mouth as he began to thrust into her. 

The druid's fingers tangled into his hair as he fucked her against the forest floor, thrusts speeding up each time he hit her core. Winnie brushed over the tip of one of his ears, sending shivers down his spine. Astarion smiled into the kiss, playfully nipping her lip before sliding his tongue inside. He eventually pulled back, taking a look at Winnie’s flustered moaning face as she pushed her hips back against his, clinging to him like her life depended on it. Astarion ran his tongue over her neck, tracing the delectable vein that he was all too eager to bite into. But as the tips of his fangs pressed against his lover's tender flesh he heard the sound of a crossbow being loaded. An unfamiliar tiefling stood behind the two of them, crossbow aimed right at the vampiric elf. 

“Get off the girl, spawn.” He spoke up, voice low and menacing.

To be continued......

~Druid

Taglist: @vixstarria , @paganwitchisis, @kerwin290710 , @anukulee , @gobbodoggo

[serendipityandbenevolence]

Baizhu x Reader (Arranged Marriage)

I know this is a bit (lot) different to what I normally post on this account, but I am a SUCKER for arranged marriages in fanfic, so I am choosing to disregard my sagau roots (not permanently dw) It’s a bit out of my comfort zone, but I really hope it comes out well :)

Contains - You getting injured, you and baizhu having beef (enemies to lovers fr), you and baizhu not realising that you are engaged to each other, arranged marriage (duh) your dad kinda sucks tbh

It took you rolling your ankle to realise how bad an idea climbing a mountain unprepared was. Granted, when you had started climbing the mountain, you had thought you were prepared. Your clothing was (somewhat) practical, you had stolen a pair of your father’s shoes that he used when hiking and you had found a nice leather satchel to hold your snacks and hand shovel. 

It had been fine at first, nothing more than a pleasant hike, with bird chirping and a soft breeze whistling through the trees. But with every step you took, the path became steeper, the sun became hotter and the god-damned shoes you bothered from your father hurt more. They had seemed a bit large when you first put them on, but now it felt like you were going to trip over them with every step. 

Your clothes weren’t faring much better. Your good, practical clothing had caught on nearly every single branch and shrub you passed. You would have to hide them when you got home, because you did not want to have to explain to your parents exactly how your clothing got so tattered and torn. The only things that hadn’t let you down was the satchel and your snacks, although the snacks were long gone now, despite not even reaching the top of the mountain.

Looking back on the moment, it seemed almost like one of those comedy performances, that wandering artisans performed in the town square. It was ironic, truly, how quickly everything fell apart. A single stone in your path, that you hadn’t even noticed until you were stepping on it. Your father’s shoes skidded off it, causing your ankle to twist painfully and send you careening into a nearby bush, your shirt tearing even more as the branches scraped your skin. 

And there you lay, facedown in a bush in the middle of nowhere, close to the peak of a nearly abandoned mountain trail, with nothing but a satchel and a sprained ankle. 

All of this for a fucking flower.

It was silly, you were aware of that. Your mother had told you stories about a kind of flower that only grew on this particular mountain, whose petals formed a distinctive heart shape, and which was said to bless whoever received one with true love. It was cheesy, yes, but that didn’t stop many young men and women from climbing the mountain in order to pick them for their fiances. But as the years passed, the flowers became more and more sparse, thanks to the droves of hopeless romantics picking them all. And now, they are said to only be found at the very top of the mountain, where the lovers were too scared to climb.

You didn’t even know if Baizhu liked flowers. 

You’d never met him, which was surprising considering how long he’d been a client of your father. Your father, a renowned supplier of medicinal herbs, was thrilled when Baizhu first began working with him. Prior to that, all his business had been to local doctors and healers, but having a client in far-away Liyue Harbor excited him, especially a doctor of such a stellar reputation. 

You almost felt like you did know him, with how much your father talked about Baizhu. Every shipment of goods that was requested meant another long monologue over the dining table about how fortunate he was to have such a consistent and well-paying client. You almost asked your father if HE wanted to marry Dr Baizhu, but you thankfully refrained. 

You knew your father had been dropping hints to Baizhu for a while now, about how he hoped his child would be married soon, about how Baizhu surely must be so lonely without a spouse, about how Baizhu really just felt like he was part of the family already. What you hadn’t expected was for Baizhu to accept.

And now, here you were, a week out from your wedding and nearly passed out on the side of a road, trying to get that god-damned flower. 

There was no way that the situation could get any worse.

“Oh dear! Are you alright?”

Or maybe it could. 

You truly had the worst luck. How was it that during the most embarrassing moment of your life, a person had to appear? This was an abandoned trail! 

“Please … just leave me here. I’m already contemplating my life choices and regretting the actions I’ve taken to get here, my pride can’t take another hit.”

“I really… can’t just leave you here, you know that, right?” The voice, which you could now identify as male, sounded like it was trying to hold back laughter, while also truly sounding concerned.

“I assure you, you can. Please do. Keep continuing on your way.”

There was silence for a moment, and you almost allowed yourself to hope that whoever this man was had left, until you felt a pair of hands grab your shoulders and pull you out of the bush, depositing you in a rather undignified heap on the ground.  

“My sincerest apologies about your pride. Are you injured?”

You sighed and made your best effort to fix your hair, attempting to look less like you just fell into a bush. Your saviour had the audacity to look perfectly put together, with barely a hair out of place, despite having just hiked the same distance as you. Though he also looked far more prepared, with shoes that actually fit and an entire bag filled with supplies.

“Only the aforementioned pride and my ankle,” You sighed, looking down at the already bruised and swollen skin, then up at the nearly vertical path ahead of you.

“I truly hope you don’t plan on continuing to climb with that ankle of yours?” He questioned, squatting down to get a better view at your injury, laying a gentle hand upon it.

You chose to ignore the question, still hoping to find a way to get to the top of the mountain, instead taking the opportunity to stare at the man. He had the most intriguing golden eyes, with slitted pupils like a snake, which were sharply fixed on your ankle.

“Your lack of a response speaks wonders, so let me rephrase. You will not be continuing to climb with that ankle of yours.” His eyes met yours, looking for any argument.

“And how do you plan to stop me?”

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

For a man who initially seemed so polite, he sure had a way of getting on your nerves. You’d spent the first 10 minutes of him carrying you back down the mountain (over his shoulder!) trying to convince him to put you down and when that hadn’t worked, you’d settled on silent treatment. But even that was testing your patience, you’d become tired of watching the sun creep towards the horizon, of listening to the birds singing up above, of resisting the urge to ask him what hair products he used to make his hair so silky.

“So…”

“Oh, you want to make conversation now? Finally given up on ignoring me?” He laughed at you, making you grit your teeth.

“Alright, I get it! You’re acting in my best interests by not letting me continue climbing the mountain, you don’t have to act all high and mighty about it!” You cut your angry tirade off with an annoyed huff, turning your face away from him.

“Why were you even climbing up there to begin with? It’s certainly not a beginners trail.”

“Oh, uhm, you know…”

“I certainly don’t know, which is why I’m asking you, but I appreciate the faith you have in thinking I can read your mind.”

You smacked his shoulder once, then a second time when you noticed he was laughing.

“But seriously… why?” He turned to face you, eyes searching your face for some sort of answer, before sighing and turning back towards the path.

You were silent for a long moment before remembering that this man had seen you half-knocked out in a bush on the side of a road. Your dignity was long gone.

“Don’t mock me for it, but I was going to try and find one of those flowers…”

“The True Love’s Bloom?”

“Yes and don’t you dare make fun of me for this, I get married in a week and I’m emotionally sensitive.”

“I wouldn’t dream of hurting your feelings and anyway, that’s what I was looking for as well.“ 

It took you a moment for it to sink it, before you turned to look at him.

“Really? I didn’t take you for the romantic type. Which poor soul got roped into marrying you?”

“I could say the same to you. Here I was, being nice to you and you repay it by insulting me? I’ll have you know, I was the one who got roped in. I think I would’ve had assassins sent after me if I refused one more time.”

You laughed and turned back around, but as you did, a small alcove in the nearby rock caught your eye. It was becoming darker by the second, but even with the fading light you could make out the shape of…

“Over there!”

The man paused and gave a sigh.

“This better not be a ploy to get me to put you down, so that you can do something potentially life endangering again.”

“The flowers! Over there!”

He turned his head and gave a small laugh of surprise as he spotted them too.

“Well, what do you know? Maybe being forced to carry you back down this hill was a blessing in disguise?” He wandered over to the sheltered patch of dirt, where, hidden from most prying eyes, were two perfect flowers.

He placed you down next to them and began rummaging through his bag, pulling out two shovels.

“I’ll have you know that I actually brought a shovel, I don’t need your equipment!”

“Really, how surprising. Did you bring a pot as well?”

“...”

“...”

“... can I borrow one of yours?”

“Well, I’ll have YOU know…”

And as your bickering echoed across the mountaintop, bringing life to the abandoned trails of a once vibrant mountain, the flowers almost seemed to grow just a little bit more.

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

“Baizhu, what’s that flower sitting over by the window? I’ve never seen anything like it before?”

“Ah Traveler, you have a good eye! It’s called True Love’s Bloom. However, those are actually two flowers. My spouse and I planted them in the same pot when we got married all those years ago and they have grown together over time, becoming so intertwined we can’t separate them. I like to keep them close to me at work, to remind me of my dearest.”

“Your spouse? I didn’t know you were married!”

“You didn’t? I could’ve sworn I had mentioned it? Well then, I shall have to tell you the story of how we met. It all started with them stupidly trying to climb a mountain…”

Guys, this was so much longer than I intended wtf. This was supposed to be a SHORT STORY to go with two other arranged marriage stories. I seriously need to throw my plans out the window at this point. Anyway, I love writing sassy characters, even though im shit at banter, so hopefully this is good/funny?

[toournextadventure]

everyone but her pt.18

Summary: Wednesday goes with you to visit your family. It's loud, it's chaotic, it's ridiculous, they're too accepting, it's all just too much. And the worst part? She almost enjoys it.

Word Count: 10.7k Warnings: Swearing, mentions of grief Pairing: Wednesday x Reader (everyone but her Masterlist) Taglist: @extinctspino @basichextechml @cfvgbhndun-new-blog @jinxscatbomb @awolfcsworld @suzhiman @gengen64 @eclipsesmoonshine14 @alexkolax @thenextdawn @cacciatricediartemide @cozwaenot @the-night-owl-blr @natashasapphic @parkersmyth @alilbitlesbian @irish-piece-of-trash @rainbow-love4ever @audigay @bakugounuggets @myfturn @rockwyn @bigbadsofty07

Wednesday was starting to regret agreeing to meet your family.

You had called them that next morning, going outside to talk for what ended up being three whole hours. She had watched you pace the yard, lay on the grass, kick rocks, and use your wings to hover above the ground for short spans of time. How you managed to stay on the phone for that long, she had no earthly idea. But then you came in and said they were more than happy for her to visit for two weeks, and everything was set.

After packing, she was sitting in the library waiting for you to get back. You had made one more weekend trip to see Nicky before going further South where it would be more difficult to make the trip. It was admirable how you always found a way to see him no matter how far away you were.

And now you were back, practically jogging to the car with the bags and talking as if your life depended on it. Maybe to you it did. Or was it your nerves taking over and not giving anyone time to argue or disagree? Whatever it was, you seemed excitedly nervous.

You had tried to convince them to take the train, but Wednesday wasn’t having it. Take the train down, then we’ll head to the bus, then Tio will pick us up from the bus station, you had said. The entire Addams family had let you know that it wasn’t necessary, Lurch could drive you both down. It was simpler that way. It took a bit of convincing but you reluctantly agreed.

The closer you got to your house, the more nervous you got. Your incessantly shaking leg was almost enough to rock the whole car when it would pull up to stops. There was a tuneless hum that started to pick up as time went on. In what turned out to be the final stretch, Wednesday noticed you even started to pick at your fingers. A nasty habit, really.

“You can stop down here,” you said to Lurch before he could get the car started up a dirt path. “It’s easier to walk.”

Wednesday gave you a look, but you just shrugged and gave her a hesitant smile. She hoped you knew she wasn’t questioning your motives, just the fact that it appeared that there would be a hike to your house. Would it not be better to drive up?

“Your ancient car will get stuck,” you said when  you practically shoved Wednesday out of the car. “I can grab the bags.”

And grab them you did, slinging your duffel bag over your shoulder before picking up Wednesday’s suitcase. You leaned over and gave an enthusiastic “Bye, Lurch!” before watching the car pull away. Only once it was out of sight did she feel you reach down and grab her hand. Not intertwining your fingers, but simply holding it and leading her up the dirt path.

“They know not to hug,” you said, “but Pop and Grandpa might still reach out for a handshake.” The path got steeper. “And Tio might still go for a hug, he doesn’t really listen.” How did any of you traverse this path regularly?

You continued to talk as you led her further up the path that was becoming more and more surrounded by trees. Pretty soon the branches covered the path, creating almost an archway until she could see a house in the distance. A log cabin, more accurately. It sat in the middle of a clearing along with a few smaller buildings; a barn and what looked to be two or three tool sheds. The path continued to a crooked gate, and you let go of her hand to open it and usher her in before closing it behind you.

“Don’t mind the dogs,” you said as you gestured your head over to the right. Yes, there within another contained fence were three dogs that looked bigger than her. “We’re pet-sitting for the neighbours.” It was impressive that they weren’t barking.

Oh, if only your family was as well behaved.

The front screen door of the house was thrown open with such force it nearly shook off its hinges. Instinctively, Wednesday took a step back and you quickly maneuvered yourself slightly in front of her, just enough to be a barrier. She was not prepared for the amount of voices or people that came out of a cabin that did not look big enough to hold them all.

“You’re here!” A small voice screamed.

You dropped both bags and stepped forward with outstretched arms which were almost instantly filled with two young children with matching tight curly hair. They giggled as you squeezed them tight, alternating kisses on their cheeks. The rest of your family was close behind as you set the children down.

“She’s real?!” The oldest girl said in an accented voice. Australian, maybe.

“I told you,” the oldest boy retorted with a smirk. “You owe me ten bucks.”

“I think she’s pretty,” a younger girl said with a smile in Wednesday’s direction. She had almost forgotten how unsettling little kids could be.

“So does Y/N,” the last boy said with a smirk.

“Okay, that’s enough,” you cut in quickly, taking your place in front of Wednesday once again. She noticed the blush on your cheeks. “Pace yourselves.”

“Sorry,” they all mumbled.

Wednesday listened dutifully as you introduced everyone; it was overwhelming, to say the least. There were too many people, too many names, too many things to keep track of. Part of her wondered why it even mattered if she met all of them or remembered who they were. Sure, they were your family, but they clearly weren’t your blood.

But as she watched your face, saw your toothy smile and sparkling eyes and heard your laugh, she realised it didn’t matter. They were your family whether they were blood or not. And truthfully, you had met her family, as large as it was. You had met as many extended family members as you could at the Addams’ Ball a few months ago. Surely she could meet the few people that you called family.

“Go take these inside,” you said, handing the duffel bag and the suitcase to… Alex and Daniel? Possibly? “Be very careful with Wednesday’s bag.”

“But not yours?” The younger boy - Daniel? - asked with a smile.

“Get inside,” you huffed, using your hands to guide all the children back inside.

A sigh fell from your lips once the kids were far enough away. Wednesday didn’t know how to describe it, but you looked tired already. Not in a bad way, you didn’t look sad, but there was a weariness on your face. Almost as if you looked older, a little more worn.

“Welcome home, baby,” an older woman said in a Southern accent as she walked closer and pulled you into a hug. You practically towered over her when you hugged her back.

“Hey Momma,” you said before pressing a kiss to the top of her head. “Everyone okay?”

“Everyone’s fine, baby bird,” she said with a smile, pulling back. “Lovely to finally meet you, Miss Addams.”

“You as well,” Wednesday said. It was awkward, a little unusual to be called Miss Addams so casually.

"I'm sorry it's so crazy," your mother continued while wiping her hands off on an apron tied around her waist. "Y/N told us you weren't big on touch. The kids will settle down in a day or two."

"It's quite alright-"

“-Where is mi pollito?” A man called out, and Wednesday saw your brows furrow as you let out a huff before being bearhugged by a man almost as tall as you. He must be your Tio. “You look terrible, what happened?”

“I came to visit your sorry ass,” you mumbled back, but Wednesday could see the smallest smile on your face. “Do you know how exhausting that is?”

“Behave,” another man’s voice called out, thick and slow and almost painfully Southern. Much thicker than your mother’s. He gave her a toothy grin; even though he was missing a few. “Nice ta meet ya, Wensdy.”

“Pop,” you said with a sigh after noticing what was most likely confusion on Wednesday’s face.

“What?” He said. “That’s how ya say it, ain’t it?” You both smiled at each other.

"You know it's not," you replied quietly.

"Did she prepare you for this?" Your father asked her, to which she shook her head. No, you hadn’t prepared her for this, not in the slightest. "Figures," he tsked.

“Where’s everybody else?” You asked, trying to change the subject.

“Inside,” your Tio said. “Abuelita is making tamales and C is bossing her around.”

“Lord help us,” your mother said with an exhausted sigh. “Everyone inside before they kill each other.”

The adults walked back to the house, leaving you and Wednesday standing in the yard. Her heart felt like it was going to explode. That was far too much all at once, far too many people. How did you live like this? How did you manage to keep yourself sane when there were so many people around at all times?

“I’m sorry,” you said softly, “I told them not to come out all at once.”

You almost looked guilty. Was this what you had talked to them about for so long the other week? She almost hoped not, that meant you cared. It meant you cared a lot and took her preferences into account. That was terrifying. To know that you cared enough to tell your entire family to be careful. It was almost painful, really.

“Do you need a minute?” You asked when Wednesday stayed silent. “It’s crazy inside, so we can sit outside for a minute if you need to.”

What she needed was for you to stop being so considerate, it was becoming uncomfortable. Yes she wanted a minute, that was a lot of people. But she didn’t want you to think she couldn’t handle it. She was an Addams, she could handle anything that was put in front of her.

“Let’s go,” she said before grabbing your hand.

For safety, of course.

"Okay then,” you chuckled softly, dragging her to the house and through the screen patio door. "Buckle up, Addams."

You were right. It was absolute chaos inside. The small entry hallway had seemed normal with framed photographs lining the wall - she noticed a few with you in it, you looked young - but once you brought her to the main room, she understood what you meant. Children’s toys littered the floor, she could hear everyone talking, sounds were coming from the kitchen that was connected to the main room.

It was too loud, and too much, and everything all at once.

“Try not to trip,” you said as you pulled her again, heading to the open kitchen. She did her best to step over the toys. Something cracked when she stepped down; she hoped it wasn't broken.

“Be careful,” Daniel said; he was sitting on the couch with his nose in a book. “Abuelita is on the warpath.”

“Great,” you mumbled, “she better behave.”

When you finished pulling her into the kitchen, she noted almost all the adults were there, plus a few she hadn’t seen yet. A man that looked practically ancient - possibly older than Grandmama - was standing near the counter with a grin. His fangs were prominently displayed when he laughed. Then there was a woman that looked a little older than your father. Her black skin and stunningly coiled hair matched the twins; it must be your Auntie C. Then there was the old Mexican lady arguing with your aunt while expertly preparing tamales.

Your Abeulita, of course.

“Welcome home, puișor,” your grandfather called from across the kitchen in yet another accented voice, silencing everyone that had previously been talking. “And it's a pleasure to meet you, Wednesday."

“About time,” your aunt said with a sigh, “Abuelita needs some help.” She stopped for just a second to look at Wednesday with raised brows and a knowing smirk. "Well, aren't you cute."

“Why can't you help?” You shot back before Wednesday could question the comment. Tio laughed from his spot at the table where he was also helping with tamales.

“If I help, I’m gonna kill someone,” she answered before looking over at Wednesday. “You’re Latina, you can help too.”

“C.”

“Watch it,” you and your father reprimanded together.

“Am I wrong?” She asked.

“You can’t just say that.”

“Who says I can’t?”

“She just got here-”

“-That’s enough!” Your father shouted again, bringing yours and your aunt’s argument to a sudden halt. “C, take a hike,” he said in a calmer voice, “Y/N, help your Abuelita.” Your aunt sighed and walked past Wednesday to get to the living room.

“I was hoping he would do that,” she whispered to Wednesday before laughing and walking away. You pulled Wednesday over to the table, gave your Abuelita a kiss on the cheek, and everyone got to work.

Oh, Wednesday liked your aunt. If that was who she was going to get to interact with the entire trip, this was going to be fun. Someone who also liked to raise hell, question authority, do as she wished. It was a stark contrast to you who, even though you very much did all of those things, you still obeyed, you desired that approval. It was beyond evident in the way you preened when any of the adults told you “good job” or any sort of positive verbal reinforcement.

From her spot at the table, she was right in front of your Tio and right beside your Abuelita. Your Abuelita and Tio showed her how to make the tamales, and she had to hold her laughter in when they refused to teach you in English. She caught on quickly and started talking to them in Spanish, which got another rise out of you.

"You know I don't know all of those words," you huffed after Abuelita explained precisely how to do the next step. In Spanish, of course.

Abuelita only laughed in response, and Tio gave Wednesday a wink when she met his eyes. She liked them, she decided. Liked the casual way they went about the chaos, picking and choosing when to interact with others, more often than not just minding their own business. It was respectable. It helped keep her heart from jumping up her throat in anxiety.

Dinner was an entirely different affair altogether and Wednesday, for what would be the first of many instances during the trip, was unsure of what to do. After all the prep, all the nonstop, loud talking, all the cooking, it was finally time to eat. Instead of everyone sitting at the table, they scattered. Grabbing their plates, getting their food, and going off to the living room or outside or wherever else they could find a space.

She sat on one of the chairs in the kitchen and watched you while the chaos unfolded. Took note of the way you had Alysah on your hip with a plate in your hand, talking with her and getting her food. Then after placing her on the floor in the living room, you did the same with Jamie, even though he seemed far more talkative. You looked older when you were helping them. More responsible, even.

“What do you want?” You asked, drawing Wednesday out of her thoughts. She hadn’t even seen you come over. “I’ll make your plate.”

“I’m not helpless,” Wednesday shot back; she noticed your aunt chuckle, clearly eavesdropping.

“I know, Wends,” you said with a slight uptick of your mouth, “now what do you want?”

She glared at you for a moment, waiting for you to take the offer back, but you didn’t. With a sigh, she told you, and you mouthed a “thank you” before standing back up and grabbing everything. This, she realised, is what you enjoyed. Being helpful, doing things for others. Where had you learned it? Where had you learned to be so selfless?

And how had you taken a liking to her, who lived quite selfishly?

The thought made her sick to her stomach. She couldn’t bring herself to eat when her stomach was rolling and she couldn’t stop feeling like you were one day going to realise she was the opposite of you. She wasn’t going to devote her life to helping others, she wasn’t going to be like her mother, that just wasn’t who she was.

Thankfully no one pointed out how little she had eaten.

Getting ready for bed was another affair entirely. After everyone had sat in the living room and talked and settled after dinner, it was time to get the kids to bed. Wednesday waited dutifully for you to show her where to go, feeling completely lost in the house. Your grandfather pulled you aside and talked to you for a moment and she noted the way he eyed her and, even though a smile pulled at his lips, he shook his head and you sighed.

“Try not to hate me,” you said when you walked back over to Wednesday, “but you’re bunking with Emily and Hailey.”

“And you?” She asked, doing her best to maintain her composure. Your sisters seemed kind, and she had roomed with Enid, she just… wasn’t sure how to interact with them.

“I’m on the couch,” you sighed. “Grandpa made it clear; no sharing rooms.”

“Because?” She asked with a raised brow.

“No sharing rooms with partners until you’re married,” you said with a shrug. “He’s old school.”

Wednesday nodded along before allowing you to grab her hand and lead her up the stairs. Part of her felt humiliated that your entire family could see you both holding hands; public displays of affection was not something she enjoyed. But the other part of her felt comfort that you were staying with her and making sure she didn't feel overwhelmed. Well, she did feel overwhelmed, but you were doing your best.

“You’ll be in my bed,” you said when you finally brought her to the room, and she almost felt right at home.

It gave off the same energy as Enid’s side of the dorm. Pinks and purples and rainbows covered the entire room. How did you manage to sleep in it? Bunk beds were on one wall while the other held a single bed covered in too many blankets. Clearly yours. Her suitcase was already sitting at the foot of the bed.

“I’ll be on the couch downstairs if you need me, okay?” You said after everyone had brushed their teeth and gotten settled. “And the girls make great company.”

“It’s like a sleepover!” Emily shouted from the bottom bunk.

“You’ll pay for this,” Wednesday whispered to you before you walked out.

“Good luck,” you said in a sing-songy voice. “Good night, girls!”

“Good night!” They called back.

It was going to be a long night.

Your bed was too soft, it felt like she was going to sink through to the floor. The blankets were also too soft, and nowhere near as warm as you were. Not that she was cold, but for some unknown reason, it was unusual to be sleeping away from you. Maybe it was the fact that she was in your bed without you, she wasn’t sure.

Her eyes roamed your side of the room. There were two or three posters taped to the ceiling, bands that she didn’t know about. A few photos hung from a piece of string going across the wall over the bed, each one a photo of you with someone else. She couldn’t tell in the dark, but one looked like a photo of you and Nicky when you were younger.

Where had Nicky slept when he had come home? Did he sleep with Alex and Daniel the same way you roomed with Hailey and Emily? Or was it completely different? His presence, from what she had seen, was still littered throughout the house in picture frames. How had everyone else handled him being gone for so long?

The train of thought was going down a dangerous path, and Wednesday felt her heart starting to race again. Would your presence have been remembered the same way if you had been in his position? If that werewolf had hurt you worse than it had, would your family treat it the same? Would you be remembered in photographs that would hang on the walls?

She needed you before her mind started to convince her that you were the one gone, not Nicky.

Her brain raced with thoughts, planning how she could get away with you coming up, or her going down. She couldn’t simply forgo the rules your grandfather had laid out, it was clearly a well established one. No, there had to be a reason, something she could get away with.

Ah. She had a brilliant idea.

She waited just a moment, listening to the hushed, even breaths coming from your sisters before letting out a scream. Not too loud as to wake everyone else up, but for your sisters to also scream and wake up. She had to push down her smile when your sisters jumped out of bed.

“Are you okay?” Hailey asked as she practically fell onto the floor and padded over.

“Did you have a bad dream?” Emily asked, peeking over the side of the bunk bed.

“Yes,” Wednesday said, doing her best to make her voice sound sleepy. “It was a terrible nightmare.”

“I get those sometimes too,” Emily said.

“You should sleep with Y/N,” Hailey mumbled, rubbing the sleep out of her eyes. Her accent was thicker when she was half-asleep.

“She makes the bad dreams go away,” Emily chimed in as she climbed down the ladder.

“Maybe you’re right,” Wednesday said, sitting up and planting her feet on the floor. “I suppose it’s worth a try.” She should have felt an ounce of guilt for using your sisters in her devious plan.

She didn't.

“Come on,” Emily said. Wednesday tried not to flinch when she felt a cold little hand grab her own. “We’ll take you to her.”

The entire house seemed to creak under the three sets of feet making their way down the carpeted hallway. Wednesday would need to learn where those spots were so she could avoid them over the next two weeks. Then down the carpeted stairs that squeaked every two steps; an easy pattern to memorise. One turn down the hall and there you were on the living room couch.

She was glad it was so dark because then your sisters would have seen her smile. You were completely sprawled out on the couch, the single blanket tangled around your legs, one of which was hanging off and the other was hoisted onto the back of the couch. An arm was also hanging off the couch while your other was over your head and your mouth was slightly open. She could hear your soft snores.

Hailey walked forward with a purpose while Emily continued to hold Wednesday’s hand. The older girl kicked your foot just once and your snore cut off quickly as you sat straight up. Your hair was a mess and your eyes were wide and unseeing.

“Who's hurt?” You asked immediately, trying to stand up. Your legs got stuck in the blanket around your legs and you fell to the ground. Hard. “Fuck.”

“No one is hurt,” Hailey said. She didn’t even bother helping you up to your feet.

“What happened?” You groaned as you managed to push yourself up, the blanket falling from around your waist and legs onto the floor. Wednesday turned her gaze away when she noticed you were only wearing boxers and a loose tank.

“Wednesday had a bad dream,” Emily said as she finally pulled Wednesday closer.

“Is that so?” You asked, your voice sounding more awake and your eyes seemingly searching into her soul. “A bad dream?”

“She screamed,” Hailey said.

“Screamed?” You asked, your eyes starting to crinkle at the corners.

“It was horrifying,” Wednesday said with a tilt of her head.

“Must have been,” you continued.

“I told her you scare off the bad dreams,” Emily said proudly.

“You’re right,” you said with a smile as you patted the top of her head. In turn, Emily gave Wednesday’s hand for you to hold. Thankfully you did. “Thank you for bringing her down.”

“Let’s go back to bed,” Hailey said, reaching her own hand out to Emily. “Good night.”

“Have good dreams, Wednesday,” Emily whisper-shouted before they rounded the corner and went back to their room.

“You screamed?” You asked after a few moments, turning to look at her. “Really?”

“I’ve been known to have nightmares on occasion,” she defended.

“You like nightmares,” you argued.

“It was exponentially more terrifying than normal.”

“You’re so full of shit,” you said quickly.

You fell back onto the couch, but your interlocked fingers caused her to fall down with you. With a skill that came from someone who regularly slept on the couch, you hooked your foot underneath the blanket and brought it back up. Your back was pressed against the back of the couch and Wednesday quickly fit herself to your position.

“Stop terrorising my sisters,” you mumbled as you wrapped your arm around her waist, pulling her impossibly closer.

“Would you prefer I terrorise your brothers?” She asked, to which you only chuckled.

“Good night, Wednesday.”

She didn’t verbally answer, just pulled your arm tighter around her and let herself drift off to sleep.

—---

The next few days went off without a hitch. Yes, everyone was still too loud and too much and there were just too many people in general, but it got easier. Emily was really the only one that was handsy with Wednesday, aside from you, and even that was simply holding hands. It was uncomfortable at first, but she quickly got used to it.

The adults in your family were kind as well. Your Tio made it a point to talk to her all the time, usually in Spanish, and even played a few songs on the guitar for her. All the younger kids did their dances, laughing to the music. That too was unusual for Wednesday, but it seemed like something that happened regularly in the house.

You had gotten a scolding from your grandfather once he realised Wednesday was sleeping down on the couch with you. She couldn’t hear the discussion, but could see the genuine attempt to persuade him. It didn’t appear to be working until Hailey cut in, telling her piece, and eventually your grandfather sighed and nodded.

She pretended not to notice you slip some cash into Hailey’s hand.

It was a change, a rather big one in fact, to live in a house where everyone had designated chores. Not that Wednesday was incapable or unwilling, but she had grown up with Lurch. Now she was helping you take care of the animals you were pet sitting, cleaning out the stable which was currently housing two horses, a dairy cow, and more than a handful of goats.

Those goats were the devil’s spawn, that’s what Wednesday believed.

“When are they leaving?” Wednesday asked when the grey goat - Steve - bumped into the back of her legs again.

“Steve is ours,” you said with a smile as you continued brushing one of the horses. “So he’s staying.”

“Of course he is,” Wednesday mumbled, turning to glare at Steve. He simply glared back before ramming into her leg.

It took everything in her power not to lock him in one of the stalls.

“Don’t mess with him,” you said, finally turning around. It was as if you had read her thoughts. “This is his house.”

“He needs to treat his guests better,” Wednesday grumbled again. She could feel him chewing on her shoelace. “The wrong person might turn him into dinner.”

“You wouldn’t dare,” you said with a glare as you put your tools back to their proper place. This, Wednesday realised, was one of the few places you stayed organised and everything was back in its proper place.

“One more chance,” she said.

Steve rammed the back of her knees, forcing her to stumble forward.

Oh, he was going to be dinner before she left this place.

Everyone in your family became increasingly casual as time went on. No more “Miss Addams,” no more watching what they said (although your aunt never did), no more niceties for the sake of being polite. They gave her separate chores from you, treated her no different than the other kids, even berated her if she argued with Alex. It was torturous.

“Kids in the car,” your father called out one afternoon while everyone was sitting on the ground playing Monopoly. Wednesday swore she had never seen such violence in her life. It was beautiful.

“Where are we going?” Alex asked as he happily swept everything off the board to a chorus of “heys” and “seriously?”

“Gotta pick somethin’ up in town,” he said, “figured y’all might want some ice cream.”

Both you and Wednesday flinched at the screams and cheers that came from everyone’s mouths. It died down quickly enough when your father ushered everyone outside. You took your time gathering the pieces of the game and putting it all away, your face entirely emotionless.

Wednesday knelt down to help you, using it more as an excuse to keep an eye on you than to actually help. The past week had given her plenty of time to learn some of your tells, and one of them was keeping your face neutral when something potentially triggering came up. She actually felt proud of herself for catching this one.

“You can fly and meet us there,” Wednesday offered. You didn’t look up, but she took note of the miniscule movement near the corner of your mouth.

“I’m good,” you said softly, “it’s a short trip.” The game was finally picked up and you turned your head to look at her with a closed-mouth smile. “But thank you.”

You didn’t give her a chance to reply before grabbing her hand and pulling her to her feet, guiding her out of the house. A chorus of adults called out their “see ya laters” as the patio door swung shut. The older two were relaxed in the bed of the truck while the younger ones were buckled in safely in the cab.

“Hop in,” you said, pulling Wednesday’s hand to ease her into the bed of the truck with Alex and Hailey. It was uncomfortable climbing into it, but she managed and you were quick to follow suit.

You plopped yourself down and knocked on the back window three times, and off you went. All three of you looked far too relaxed and comfortable, as if this wasn’t your first time. Clearly it wasn’t, of course, but you couldn’t have made it more obvious.

On the other hand, Wednesday was surprisingly nervous. She had never ridden in the back of a truck before, hadn’t felt the wind blow her hair around or hear it rushing past her ears. The only thing keeping her sane was your arm wrapped tight around her back, holding her as close as you could without outright pulling her into your lap.

It was about a 25 minute drive into town; she had never realised you lived so far away from civilization. That must have been nice, it explained why you could have so many people in one house. She understood the desire to be away, her own family lived away from the hustle and bustle as well. 

You, Alex, and Hailey were all standing up and hopping out of the truck before it pulled to a complete stop; Wednesday wouldn’t admit it put a lump in her throat, but you seemed confident enough. Only once the truck was at a full stop did you reach out to help, grabbing her by the waist and lifting her out and back to the ground.

The warmth of your hands was comforting.

“Alright Big Bird, you’re in charge,” your father said as he handed you a small wad of cash. “I’ll meet y’all back here in half an hour.”

“Yes sir,” you said with a nod, and he started walking down the small sidewalk. “Alright team, buddy up and let’s go.”

Clearly this was something you all did often, because everyone seemed to move like a well oiled machine. Hailey and Alex stood near each other while you let one of the twins on your back while you carried the other. Emily and Daniel went to either side of Wednesday and grabbed each of her hands. It was difficult to fight the instinct to pull away.

“So we don’t get lost,” Emily said with a smile. Wednesday looked down at both of her linked hands before nodding once. It was sound logic, she supposed.

“Lead the way, Lex,” you called out, and the group started moving.

The little hands holding hers were warm, but nowhere near like yours. Although she would admit, she was getting disgustingly accustomed to it at this point. Before you, she would have found this whole trip unnecessary. Your buddy system, your carrying the twins, going for ice cream, the whole thing. But everyone was smiling and talking and you looked almost peaceful as you listened to the twins ramble about one thing or another.

She supposed it wasn’t all that bad.

“Hey Johnson clan,” the kid behind the counter called out when everyone walked into the small ice cream parlor. “Long time no see.”

“Hey, Bo,” you answered as you set the twins on the floor. “How ya been?”

“Not too bad,” he - Bo - said with a smile. “The usual?”

“That’d be great,” you said, and Bo nodded once before getting started on whatever “the usual” was. “Get settled, I'll bring it over."

Wednesday let everyone lead her to a booth near the window - rather similar to the booth she frequented at the Weathervane - as she watched you approach the counter. You talked to Bo, casually leaning against the counter while he worked. There must have been some sort of acquaintanceship there for you to act so nonchalant. Did you smile at her like that when she wasn't watching?

"Uh oh," Daniel said.

The whole group turned their heads when the bell above the door rang. Three high schoolers walked in, one girl and two boys. Their overly flashy jackets were enough to give Wednesday a migraine, but what caught her attention was the way your body froze when you caught the girl's eye. Who was she, Wednesday wondered.

"That's Ash," Daniel said aloud. How had he known her thoughts? "Y/N's ex."

Oh. Instead of the usual rushing of her pulse where you were concerned, her heart now felt frozen. You had never mentioned an ex, at least not to her. Wednesday supposed she was pretty, though quite the opposite of herself. More boisterous, obnoxiously bubbly, like she wanted to be Enid but could never pull it off. How had your taste changed so drastically, because Wednesday was nothing like that girl.

What were you doing to her? Now you had her comparing herself to someone else? She was going to have a serious talk with you about this.

“What are they saying?” Hailey asked, doing her best not to stare at you and the small group surrounding you.

“I read minds, not lips,” Daniel huffed. Of course, Wednesday thought. That makes sense.

“Then what are they thinking?” Hailey asked with a roll of her eyes.

“Nosey,” Alex mumbled.

Wednesday kept her mouth shut because, quite frankly, she wanted to know too. Although she hid her curiosity by pretending to watch Emily and the twins colour on the papers on the table. She had no idea what they were drawing, but they seemed to be having fun. It gave her a certain warmth in her chest.

She blinked once at the revelation.

Oh damn you.

“Ash thinks she’s pretty,” Daniel said. He wasn’t looking up, instead drawing his own picture. Meanwhile, you looked uncomfortable as your foot tapped the ground and you kept shifting weight from leg to leg.

“Ew,” Emily grumbled. Everyone failed at hiding their smiles, even Wednesday couldn’t help herself. But only for a moment before she was back to her usual demeanor.

“One of the meatheads thinks she’s pretty too.” Now that was infuriating. If there hadn’t been children around, Wednesday might have had something to say.

“And the other one?” Alex asked. He was eying the whole group carefully, as if he was prepared to jump in at any point. “The one looking at us?” That same one said something, and your eyes flitted over to where everyone was sitting at the table.

“He thinks Wednesday is pretty,” Daniel said with a disgusted frown.

“He needs to keep his eyes to himself,” Hailey practically growled. She sounded like Enid. “Before I claw them out-”

“-She’s gonna kill him.”

Everyone froze for a split second before their heads turned to look at the group once again. Wednesday could see how tightly your jaw was clenched and the way your eyes squinted just so. The muscles of your forearms were pulled taught as your hands were balled into fists so tight that she could have sworn your knuckles were about to split.

“Alex-”

“-I’m on it,” Alex said, immediately walking over to where you were standing.

The moment he put his hand on your arm, you visibly relaxed. Your head turned to face him and all the anger had faded, turning into something akin to a soft protectiveness. She couldn’t see what Alex was saying to you, but you nodded absentmindedly and said something to the group before pulling Alex over to the counter to grab the ice creams Bo was sliding over to you.

And then one of the guys said something and you moved to turn, but Alex’s hand gripped your arm. Not just touched you, but gripped you, holding you still and stopping you from turning around to face them again. From where she was sitting, Wednesday couldn’t properly see what was going on, couldn’t see the look on your face, but she knew that tenseness in your shoulders.

You were furious, and someone was going to be on the receiving end.

Alex pulled you to the counter and slid a few ice creams over, which you eventually took with shaking hands. He left first, walking ahead of you so you had something to focus on, and you dutifully followed behind. There was still a fire in your eyes, but you kept them glued to the back of his head.

“Hey,” Ash called out, and you stopped in your tracks without turning around. “If you’re ever free-”

“-I’m not,” you interrupted before immediately finishing your walk to the table and sitting down beside Wednesday.

She watched your face carefully as you handed out ice creams, sliding specific flavours to each sibling. You looked passive, but she could see the gears still turning behind your eyes. Whatever they had said to you wasn’t sitting well. It was evident in the way you only half listened to everyone’s talking.

The hair on the back of Wednesday’s neck stood up when she felt someone watching her. She didn’t have to turn around to know who it was because the group had sat not too far away from your table. Her mind kept replaying what Daniel had said. Ash thinks she’s pretty. That wasn’t sitting well with Wednesday, not at all, especially now that she knew Ash was an ex girlfriend.

In a split second decision, Wednesday leaned up to leave a soft, lingering kiss on your cheek, reveling in the way your body froze underneath her before leaning into her touch. You were smiling when she pulled away. In her peripheral vision she could see the look of absolute shock on Ash’s face. A smirk tugged at her own lips as she looked down and took the second spoon sticking out of the ice cream in between you both.

Now this made public affection worth it.

—---

The last full day of the trip started with chaos, as did every other day. Except this was different; the day started before the sun was even up.

Well. Technically it had started the night before.

Wednesday was sitting on the porch swing in the back with Daniel while the younger kids ran around with the goats. Alex and Hailey were down at the creek and you were in the kitchen preparing something for the next day. Something you had said would cook overnight. She didn’t understand, but you seemed confident that she would like it. Every now and then, she would see you looking out the door at her and smiling before going back to helping your father.

“She likes you,” Daniel said even though his nose was still in a book. She liked him the most; he kept to himself.

Wednesday just gave him a look, and he shrugged once he finally saw it.

“She won’t say it,” he said softly, “but she thinks you belong here.” She turned her head to look at you again. You were currently arguing with your father over something she couldn’t hear. “And she likes your butt.”

Her cheeks flushed at Daniel’s words; he simply chuckled before returning back to his book, not even phased by whatever thoughts he clearly heard in your head. And yet she couldn’t take her eyes off of you and the way you moved around the kitchen as if you belonged nowhere else. Your hands expertly preparing whatever was on the table, a smile on your face, your laughter at your Tio spilling out of the open back door.

You smiled at her when you passed by, something wrapped in tinfoil resting in your hands as you carried it to the grill. Smoker, Wednesday corrected herself when she remembered what you had told her earlier. A slow cooker, something she had never used before but clearly you knew how to work.

Wednesday watched you place what was in your hands into the smoker and check a few things before making your way to the porch swing where you sat down in between her and Daniel. Desire told her to lean into your side, and even though she could hear all the people around, she listened. She leaned into your side and felt your arm instinctively wrap around her shoulders to pull her close, and she sunk into you.

The wind was getting cool an hour or so later when you nudged her gently, urging her to get up and head inside with everyone else. Everyone bid their good nights and Wednesday immediately curled up with you on the couch. You left kisses on the back of her neck as you slid a hand under her shirt, resting your incredibly hot hand on her stomach before settling down.

Wednesday had been in a deep sleep when movement woke her up.

“Sorry,” you whispered before placing a simple kiss behind her ear as you lifted yourself off the couch. “Go back to sleep, I’ll be right back.”

She stayed still, wrapped up in your blanket as she listened to your feet stumble across the floor. The back door creaked open and the crickets and frogs from outside reached her ears. It had made it difficult to sleep at first, but now she found the sounds comforting. Her mind was at ease while she waited until finally the door creaked and locked and you dragged yourself back to the couch.

"Good night," you whispered with another kiss and an arm around her waist, and she quickly fell asleep again.

Until you got up a second time, not even two hours later. You gave her a kiss on the forehead before getting up, and another kiss when you got back a few minutes later.

And then a third time. This time she grumbled and practically kicked you out when you tried to crawl over her. You hit the ground with a grunt but made your way outside anyway. It took you far longer to come back, and she was almost asleep again when you crawled over her and fell back onto the couch, instantly pulling her into you and falling back asleep.

By the fourth time you got up, Wednesday was tired and grumpy and truthfully she just wanted you to hold her. All this up and down and sleeping and waking up, it was exhausting. When the sun finally started to rise, you were already up again and making coffee while your grandfather and father made their way downstairs.

"Mornin', Wensdy," your father said. She had grown to find his pronunciation of her name tolerable, if not a little endearing.

"Kept you up all night, didn't she?" Your grandfather asked with a chuckle.

She didn't dignify his question with a response. He found that even more funny, judging by his deep laugh.

Through half-lidded eyes, she saw you hand mugs of coffee to your father and grandfather, head them mumble their thanks before walking outside. She would hand it to your family, you all spent a lot of time outside. Practically from the moment you all woke up until you went back to sleep, the outside was where you were all happiest.

As much as she wanted to just change into her usual clothes for the day and get started, she was tired. She wasn’t afraid to admit it, she was tired. So she did what she had seen all of you do for the past two weeks; she left her pyjamas on and went into the kitchen. You were sitting on the bench by the table and trying to blink away the sleep in your eyes.

“Mornin’,” you mumbled as well, your voice still croaky and thick with sleep. “Saved some for you.”

She took the mug from your hands and sighed at the warmth that spread through her fingers. A similar warmth spread through her chest when your arm wrapped around her waist and you pulled her down to sit on your lap. You were ruining her, she thought when she didn’t even flinch. No, she just let herself sit on your lap and let your chin rest on her shoulder.

Everyone eventually made their way down into the kitchen by the time Wednesday finished her coffee. You were finally looking more awake and ready for the day, and you even pressed a kiss to her cheek before standing up, placing Wednesday on her feet before taking the empty mug and washing them in the sink.

Emily grabbed Wednesday’s hand and pulled her back down to the bench before you could bring her outside. For your sake, she pretended not to notice the slightest pout on your face when you noticed you had been beaten to the punch. But you put on a brave face and went out the back, and soon everyone was moving around.

“Are you ready for tonight?” Emily asked once everyone had started eating breakfast.

“What’s tonight?” Wednesday asked, and she could feel the energy in the room shift.

“We’re having a bomfire!” Emily cheered.

“It’s bonfire, Em,” Alex corrected her as he too walked out the back to join you and your group.

“For your last night,” your Abuelita said, softly enough so you couldn’t hear her speaking English. Wednesday aspired to be that woman. The level of pettiness was incredible.

“Y/N even agreed to bring out Nicky’s fiddle,” your mother said with a soft smile.

“She should leave it alone,” Hailey mumbled into her cereal.

“Hey,” your aunt cut in. “If you can’t say nothin’ nice, keep your mouth shut.”

“Well she should,” Hailey continued. “She’s not even as good as he is.”

“She’s aware, Hail,” your mother said with a sigh.

Wednesday had a feeling this conversation had occurred before. If not this particular conversation, then the topic itself. She had noticed the way everyone acted when anything involving Nicky came up. Whether it was a family photo, a book, a movie, he was there. It was as if his memory was sitting in the corner, waiting for everyone to notice and remember that he wasn’t gone, he would never truly be gone.

If his tidied, untouched side of the room wasn’t enough of a display of everyone’s feelings, this certainly was.

“I think she’s good,” Emily said, drawing everyone out of the sour mood. “She makes funny faces when she messes up,” she giggled.

“She’s always got a funny face,” Daniel said around his mouth full of eggs.

“That’s just how I look,” you said, making all the kids jump and instantly look guilty. Wednesday got joy out of their guilt. Immense joy. “I was born this way.”

“Everyone start behavin’ and eatin’ your breakfast,” your mother said. “We’ve got a lot of work to do before we can have fun.”

A chorus of “yes, mommas” rang throughout the kitchen, and everyone essentially inhaled their food before getting to work. Wednesday was impressed until your mother put her to work while you were sent out to help your Tio and father start preparing the outside area.

It was a madhouse the entire day. More than once she had tried to escape the kitchen to go see you, getting just close enough for you to pull her around the corner and kiss her. But then your mother would call out and scold her - the nerve that woman had - before practically shooing her back inside to finish helping.

“Let’s get ready,” Emily called out, grabbing Wednesday’s hand and dragging her upstairs. “We’ve got something for you to wear.”

“I have clothes,” Wednesday argued.

“Y/N bought them special for you,” Emily continued.

“She’s so whipped,” Hailey chuckled with a toothy grin.

Wednesday just kept her mouth shut. Why had you picked out clothes for her? She had plenty of her own, she didn’t need any new ones. After all, hadn’t you complained recently about how you couldn’t wait to start working again because you were “broke,” as you put it so bluntly? But when the girls showed her the clothes laid out on the bed, she understood. Did she approve? That was to be determined, but she at least understood.

Everything fit perfectly. A little too well, it was almost suspicious. How had you gotten her exact measurements anyway? She supposed it didn’t matter because the black pants and shirt fit like a glove. Maybe you had a talent she knew nothing about. Would you be a skilled designer?

Who was she kidding, she had seen your wardrobe, you were the furthest thing from a designer.

“You look so pretty!” Emily called out, practically screamed, and Hailey flinched at the noise.

“Inside voice, Em,” Hailey said in a far softer voice. “Let’s go before they start without us.”

Wednesday allowed herself to be pulled downstairs, through the kitchen, and to the back where everyone was already setting things up. There was a large table to the side with all the food from the day laid out with three different coolers beside it. On the other side of the yard, a little further away from the food, was a large clearing where wood was piled almost as tall as her. Seats were scattered as if the singular purpose was to watch the fire.

Maybe it was.

And kneeling next to the wood with a torch in hand, arguing with Tio, was you. You, in jeans and boots and a hat tilted back on your head just enough to block the sun out of your eyes. There were tailored holes in your shirt that kept your wings snug, yet free. They twitched and ruffled when the wind brushed against them. It was certainly a look. A good look, if Wednesday was being completely honest with yourself.

Although you ruined it when you nearly caught your sleeve on fire in an attempt to prove something to Tio.

Wednesday stumbled forward when something pushed against the back of her knees. She exhaled loudly through her nose when she turned and faced her mortal enemy; Steve. Whoever had let him out was going to pay. He kept eye contact with her, staring deep into her soul before knocking into her kneecap and walking away.

That demon spawn would perish in the fire on this night. Wednesday swore it.

Once the fire was started, you finally walked over to where Wednesday was standing and everyone started getting their food. Just like you had been the whole trip, you made her plate for her, piling on more food than she would ever be able to eat. When asked where your plate was, your face darkened and you gave her a sheepish smile.

“I was actually gonna eat off your plate,” you said softly.

You wanted to share food with her? That was big for you, to share food. Of course you had cooked it and had gotten it all for her, but to share it? The whole meal? That was a rather big deal for you, she was actually honoured that you would even assume such a thing.

“Come on,” you said, “let’s sit down.”

You led the way and sat her down on one of the logs near the fire, and everyone else was quick to follow suit. Alysah and Jamie were more preoccupied with playing with Steve - that damned creature - and would occasionally come back to grab something to eat before going back to play. Emily made it a point to sit beside Wednesday and talk the entire time. Daniel was beside you, and Alex and Hailey were on a different log while all the adults milled around.

After everyone was done eating and you helped distract the little ones, Wednesday could hear the gentle tunes of a guitar; your father and Tio were playing softly, nothing complicated, nothing flashy. She stayed in her spot and listened, watching their fingers move expertly across beaten up instruments that were horribly out of tune. And yet, they still sounded beautiful as the strings were plucked in just a way that created a perfectly constructed melody.

“Come on over, baby bird,” your father called to you. You stopped chasing Jamie and Alysah - and goddamn Steve - around and looked up. “Play us a tune.”

You stood up straight, and Wednesday could see you take a deep breath in before slowly exhaling. Something in your expression made her feel sad, and she remembered what Hailey had said about the fiddle. It was Nicky’s. But you quickly replaced your expression with a smile and walked your way over. When you passed Wednesday, you took your hat off your head and placed it on hers.

She heard gasps come from somewhere, and when she looked up there was a teasing look on your Abuelita’s and grandfather’s faces. Your mother and father were looking at each other, and your aunt and Tio were laughing. Full, belly deep laughter. She looked up at your flushed face and narrowed her eyes.

“Don’t worry about it,” you mumbled, refusing to meet her eyes, and walking over to where your father and Tio were sitting. When they laughed at you, you hit their shoulders and she heard a hushed “shut up.”

Daniel came and sat down beside Wednesday again and the both of them watched you take the fiddle out of its case and start getting it ready. You put such care into it, touching it with such gentle fingers, almost as if you were scared to damage it. Maybe you were; it was Nicky’s.

You held it to your left shoulder; like a right-handed person, though you most certainly weren't one. It looked a little unnatural, and yet you weren’t hesitant when you drew the bow across the strings a few times. As much as Wednesday hated it, you tuned it to the already out-of-tune guitars. And yet, when you drew the bow across the strings once again, it almost sounded nice.

But if you ever asked, she would never admit it. She would still scold you for being so horrendously out of tune.

Your father started the song first, and you jumped in with an uncertainty that Wednesday rarely saw in you. It wasn’t fear, not really, but she could see something else even if she couldn’t put it into words. Your brows were furrowed and you looked down in such intense concentration and before long, your tongue was even sticking out slightly.

She wouldn't say you were fantastic. You were good, of course, but you were no professional. Normally it was something she would take into account; why play if you couldn't play it to perfection? That's what practice was for. Yet you continued to play, and you played past the mistakes (and made the funny faces Emily enjoyed), and your fingers quickly found their spaces on the neck and you looked peaceful.

As you played, Wednesday started to wonder who had taught you. Had it been Nicky? Whoever it was had taught you to play right handed. Was it uncomfortable to play that way, or was it the only way you knew? Those questions continued to swirl around her mind as she watched you, practically studied your movements and skill and smile.

She definitely studied your smile.

The longer everyone played, the more songs you completed, the more comfortable you looked. She almost even thought she heard you laugh when the kids started dancing around the bonfire. Your boot tapped to the beat and your father would sing and your Tio would laugh and it was such an unusual atmosphere for Wednesday.

And, much like everything you had subjected her to on that trip, it spread a warmth through her chest.

At some point, your aunt came over and sat on the other side of Wednesday. She didn’t think anything of it, everyone was either watching the three of you or watching the kids dance. It still evaded her as to why your family would make it a point to sit by her, or talk with her, or include her in things. She wasn’t part of the family.

Although she supposed her family did the same thing with you.

“Figured out the hat thing yet?” Your aunt asked when you finished the song and started bowing out, turning around to tuck the fiddle back into its case.

“No,” Wednesday admitted. Though truthfully she hadn’t even attempted to figure it out; she had, unfortunately, gotten distracted.

“It’s some old superstition,” she continued. You had finished putting up the fiddle and were now being dragged out to play something called “mothman” with Alysah, Jamie, and Emily. “If someone gives you their cowboy hat, it means they like you.”

Oh. Yes, well that- that would explain everyone’s reactions perfectly, would it not? You had, more or less, laid your affections out for the entire family to see. Not that they hadn’t seen it before, of course, they had certainly seen you holding her hand or pulling her close. But if it was superstition then it meant a great deal more than just hand holding.

A scream echoed through the air and everyone’s heads turned to where you and the kids had previously been running around. Except now there were only two people left; you and Jamie were nowhere to be seen. Wednesday tried to ignore the fear that sent through her veins that you had both just disappeared.

“They know I hate this game,” your mother mumbled as she walked past where Wednesday’s bunch was sitting.

“How do you play?” Wednesday asked.

“Y/N flies around and tries to steal you without anyone seeing,” Daniel answered. His leg brushed against Wednesday’s, and surprisingly she didn’t flinch away.

“If you’re caught?” She asked. Emily and Alysah were sticking together, looking all around for wherever you could possibly be.

“Then you lose.”

Her blood froze in her veins when your whispered voice came from right beside her left ear. How had you managed to sneak up on her? How were you even capable of being that silent? Your breath hit her ear as you chuckled and you left a quick kiss on her cheek before backing away and disappearing once again while Jamie suddenly reappeared on your aunt’s lap.

Was that attractive? Did Wednesday find your sneaking skills attractive? She did. She very much did. Another scream rang through the air; her eyes still hadn’t found you. She did, however, manage to catch you walking up behind her, Alysah and Emily both hauled over your shoulders like sacks of potatoes.

"I win," you said as you practically dropped their giggling bodies to the ground.

"Again!" Jamie called out.

"No more," your mother said almost instantly. "It's time for bed."

Grumbles and complaints came from all the children, Alex and Hailey included. But in the end they were no match for your mother, aunt, and Abuelita; those women were a force to be reckoned with and everyone knew it. Even Wednesday had learned to say a simple "yes ma'am" and go along with it.

Everyone got to cleaning up, putting up the leftovers - such an unusual concept for Wednesday, truthfully, but she believed she liked it. Possibly - and getting the children off to bed. You passed her once on the way to help carry something and grabbed the hat from her head and put it back on your own.

Everyone except your parents burst into laughter.

“You better not-”

“-Not in my house,” your mother and father said at the same time.

“It’s my own damn hat,” you shouted back. “I can take it back if I want.”

“What does that mean?” Wednesday asked your aunt.

“I’ll let lil’ bird tell you that one,” she laughed before walking away and leaving Wednesday to continue packing things up.

She felt something tickle her ankle and looked down, instantly feeling an intense rage. Steve. The damned goat was chewing her shoelace as if it was his god given right. It was beyond tempting to throw him into the bonfire that was still roaring behind her.

“Wanna stay up and watch the fire?” You asked, reaching down to pat Steve on the head. Wednesday glared at him again. You’re lucky she’s here to save you, she thought but kept to herself.

With the fire behind you and the hat tilted down over your face, you looked like a silhouette against the red and orange backdrop. She couldn’t see your eyes or your smile, but she could feel the happiness. It was in the relaxed set of your shoulders and the constant twitch and ruffle of your feathers.

“That would be nice,” Wednesday said, and this time she could see the reflection of the light off your teeth as you gave her a toothy grin.

You pulled her into your lap once you got to the logs near the fire. She instantly adjusted until she was comfortable; it was disgusting that she was now so used to sitting in your lap that she knew how to get comfortable so effortlessly. Your chin rested on your shoulder and your arms wrapped around her waist and you both just stared into the fire.

Neither one of you said anything, just sat there in a comfortable silence listening to the crackling of the burning wood. Every now and then she would feel you press a kiss behind her ear, or to her neck, or your hand would squeeze her thigh lightly. She let you continue, just enjoying the feel of your skin on hers. But the moment she went to turn around, the back patio door slammed open.

"If one 'a y'all gets pregnant, your Pop is putting you up for adoption," your aunt called out.

"Oh my god, go to sleep!" You shouted as you turned to glare at her. Her laughter echoed in the empty yard as the door closed again and you sighed.

Wednesday didn't bother hiding her smile as she pulled you into a real kiss. Her heart hammered in her chest when she felt you smile back.

[teddy06writes]

Stubborn

Cassian Andor x gn!reader

Prompt: "The only person that gets to kill you, is me."

Warnings: non specific description of injuries

Premise: After a mission for the rebellion goes south and Cassian lands himself in the infirmary, you give him a piece of your mind. Told from Jyn's perspective.

(presumably takes place at some point after Rouge One, in an Everybody lives universe)

~~

It was supposed to have been a relatively routine mission. Two days at the most, including travel time; get in, get the intel, get out. That's all it was intended to be. That was until Cassian saw an opportunity to get a leg up, and Jyn had gone along, right up until that leg up turned out to be at a steeper price than they had planned.

Now, sitting in the infirmary on Yavin IV, Jyn was certainly beginning to regret it. Neither of the two were hurt badly, Jyn only sustaining a few scrapes and bruises from their quick escape, nothing a bit of bacta spray couldn't fix. Cassian had gotten the worst of it, and would be forced to take it easy for the next week or so until he had healed up enough to go back out in the field.

When the doors to the infirmary slammed open with a bang, Jyn couldn't even muster up shock. Cassian had mentioned that you would be furious at him.

"Are you kidding me? Are you an idiot Cass?" You demanded, storming past Jyn and strait to Cassian's bedside.

K-2SO lumbered along behind you, stopping beside Jyn, "To be fair, I did try to stop them."

"No you didn't." She said, watching in amusement as you continued to rant.

"No, I didn't." K2 agreed.

"You can't just go throwing yourself into things like that because you think it will accomplish something! What good are you to the Rebellion if you go off getting yourself killed for the tiniest bit more information!"

Cassian just kept looking up at you, waiting patiently, the same love struck in his eyes that Jyn saw every time you came near, or even came up in conversation.

"There are people here counting on you to come back! I'm counting on you to come back! God for someone so smart you make the dumbest decisions sometimes- Your so worrisome, and stubborn and aggravating and- Damn it, Cass, the only person who gets to kill you, is me!"

After this final exclamation you fell silent, staring down at him with a flushed, exasperated expression on your face that had Jyn struggling to hide her laughter.

Gently, Cassian took your hand, where it had fallen back to your side after your gestures had ended, "And you'll still have the chance, y/n. I'm okay. It's okay..."

In a moment, you deflated, your frustration suddenly disappearing as you squeezed his hand back, slowly sinking down into the chair beside his bed, "I was so worried Cassian. You can't scare me like that again."

Your voices grew too hushed for Jyn to make out, as Cassian reassured you, your hands still clasped between you. So she stood, all but dragging K2 out with her to give you space.

[forestshadow-wolf]

Catch me and I'll follow — Soapghost wingfic

@rainerestored I can't think of any ways to pin this on you, but I'm still blaming you for it anyways 🥰

To say that cross-species relationships were shunned would not quite be correct. Was it a rarity to find? Yes.

But that's mostly due to differing courtship rituals. For example a pair of kestrels courtship behavior will obviously be different from some type of waterfowl courtship.

Obviously with dedication and a bit of hard work these differences can be bridged.

The beginning of Soap and Ghost's relationship was rocky to say the least. A hawk and an eagle? Not the largest species gap that's been heard of, but they've got their differences.

Ghost had to give credit where credit was due, and say soap's learning curve was steeper than his own. After all a straight freefall until just before sudden death just might be a bit harder than a game of follow the leader. Putting everything that wasn't physical aside, it was all about learning timing and coordination, and trusting your partner. There's also the added bonus of improving and learning new flight skills/ability

Old advice from generations back would have said to just scrap both courting rituals or to choose one (the easiest). But both soap and ghost have agreed that that only breed a hostile relationship that's destined to fail.

Meaningful courtship is important for maintaining a healthy relationship, especially if they aren't mono-spec. See, on ghost's end it was a show of trust and competence among other things. On soap's end it was it was a sign of willingness, and it builds a kind of understanding between partners. And for all multi-spec relationships it also shows a general dedication, and want for the relationship.

The put in the work and the hours. Did as much research as they could. Communicated their wants and needs, and what they could or could not do.

They started small. Soap took the initiative to start introducing himself to Ghost's traditions. The first time they did it was a 15 foot drop over water side by side, just to prove that they both could, and to see their limits. The next drop was higher, several wingspans higher, side by side.

The traditional method (the most dangerous) of the death spiral was for both partners to to fly way up high, all the way to their altitude limit, then they'd intertwine their legs, and free fall. Obviously physics caused the spinning due to differing weight. It was a massive show of strength, self-control, natural instinct, and trust, to accomplish a successful death spiral.

Now, in modern times, there is technology that makes such courtships much less dangerous. That's not to say the traditional method is no longer used. But interlocking flight boots did make cross-species courtship easier for some parties. The learning curve was still steep, but it was one step made just a bit easier.

After the were both comfortable with the companioned free fall they donned the interlocking boots and began to test out short spurts of joined free fall from high altitudes. At first they released after only a few short secinds of spinning, but slowly the time before they released grew longer and longer and the distance from the ground grew shorter.

Eventually after years of working at it, and practice, and repetition, it became almosts second nature to soap. To follow a only wingflap behind ghost as they rose higher and higher into the sky, then to lock themselves together, and let the wind scream past their ears as they spiraled towards the ground, so that they could release only a few wingspans away from sudden death.

Soap isn't the only one learning though, sure his job was harder, but that doesn't negate Ghost's efforts. He's never learned had to follow so close behind anyone before. He's never had to learn to swoop and dive in tandem with someone else, like he has to with soap. He's never had to follow and lead in this push-pull type of courting.

At first he felt clumsy, too large, not agile enough. It seemed like he bumped, and knocked into everything as he struggled to keep up with soap. He tangled and fought with brambles and branches. And when the broke free into open air he overshot, and soap struggled to keep close behind.

The first time they tried to fly together ghost shot into the air, and soap was panting by the time he'd caught up. Then soap dived down into the thicket of trees. Ghost had tried to follow right behind him, but he'd never had to fly in such close quarters before. He'd nearly flown face first into a bundle of branches, had to duck low to avoid it and had promptly gotten stuck in an overgrown thorn bush, and soap was dusting him in the wind.

It took lots of trial an error to learn how to tuck his wings close to get through the gaps soap practically soared through. It had taken him ages to figure out how to perfectly fit soap into his slipstream to give him more lift. It had taken weeks of watching and following soap to learn how to circle and swoop and to lead as flawlessly as soap

Now, after years and years of learning, and flying, and learning some more, their courtship rituals looked like a perfectly laid out dance.

The way their flight paths twined together as they rose straight up into the air, as high as the could go. The way the locked "talons" and plummet towards the ground in terrifying spirals until they were mere meters from death. Where upon they'll catch themselves with open wings, a feather's width away from eachother. The way they perfectly mirror each other as they snake through trees, and vines, and along cliff faces.

Their monthly courting flights have become somewhat of an, unintentional, spectacle. A private, ordered to 'find' their drill Sergent's pine cone, had stumbled across them on one of their flights. News spread fast over the next few months. Not so silent whispers through the halls of base, that kicked up whenever they walked by.

"Have you seen the lieutenant fly with the Sergent?"

"Never seen a hawk do a death spiral before, you should see it next time"

"I didn't know an eagle could fly like that"

"The stunts they pull are crazy"

It's not that they minded the whispers per-say, no, they knew how to deal with distraction and what not. It's just that when a crowd had shown uo to their next courting flight...

Ghost had never courted anyone before soap. Soap had courted before just... just not compatibly. So to suddenly go from whaterver they had before, to a live action show infront of an audience, was a little uncomfortable at first.

Now they usually put in for some time off to do their flight together. Usually somewhere an hour or two flight off base. That's not to say that they do put on the occasional show for everyone on base. Just that they prefer it to be a more private matter.

I kinda want to write more on this but I also want to experiment with other species and situations

[jungle-angel]

The Greatest Pumpkin Ever Picked (Bob Floyd x Reader)

Summary: It's almost spooky season and you and Bob let Auggie go nuts to try and find the perfect pumpkin

Bozeman, MT

October, 2023

"Never saw a kid so excited to pick out a pumpkin," Joe chuckled as he and Bob slowly trailed behind Auggie, letting him run through the rows and rows of pumpkins in the field behind the farmers' market.

"It's all he talked about all week at school," Bob answered. "Kay, his teacher, was telling me about how they were planning to take the kindergarteners pumpkin picking when I went to go get him."

"Better to do it with the family first," Joe mused.

"Daddy! Daddy! I found it! I found my pumpkin!" Auggie shouted proudly.

"Show me where bud."

Auggie led his father and grandfather to the further end of the field where he pointed proudly to the pumpkin he had claimed as his own. It was huge, a gigantic orange monster that stood in the middle of the field, bigger than all the rest and much bigger than Auggie.

"Holy shit," Bob groaned.

Joe laughed at his son's exasperation. "Hey, the ghoul wants what the ghoul wants."

"Dad, there's no way we're gonna get that monstrosity in the back of the truck," Bob pointed out. "We're gonna need a crane just to lift it."

"Do you not remember what we did when you were that little?" Joe chuckled.

Bob searched his memory for any answer to his father's question until something sparked to life in the back of his mind. "You mean....?"

"Yep," Joe answered.

"How are we gonna do it?"

"Leave that to me."

Bob and Auggie waited patiently for Joe to return, paying for the pumpkin at the front end stall. Finally, Joe came back with the truck, parking it at the bottom of the hill that was just a little bit steeper than Bob had anticipated.

"Alright, lets get that sucker rolled in!" Joe announced.

"We gonna do the Charlie Brown thing Daddy?" Auggie chirped.

"Yep," Bob answered.

Bob helped get Auggie started and once the pumpkin rolled a little bit, Auggie began guiding the pumpkin, rolling it down the hill and running beside it as it picked up speed. He giggled the whole way down as Bob took a video on his phone, laughing at the sight of his meekly framed, bespectacled little mini-me running beside the monstrous pumpkin.

At last the steepness of the hill gave way to the truck bed where the pumpkin landed with tremendous force. The whole truck bobbed up and down like an old low-rider as the huge pumpkin came to rest perfectly in the bed.

"Well that was alot easier than we thought," Joe remarked.

"I just hope the shocks on the truck are ok," Bob told him.

Bob loaded Auggie into his carseat and buckled him in before he and Joe took off with the pumpkin in tow. As soon as the two of them pulled up the long driveway to the house and parked, Bob lifted a yawning Auggie out of the truck and carried him into the house.

"Woah that's one hell of a pumpkin!" you exclaimed, meeting your husband at the door.

"And one sleepy kid," Bob replied, kissing you on the lips. "I'm gonna go put him upstairs for a nap, he's exhausted."

"You do that, I'll set his lunch aside for when he wakes up."

Up to the bedroom Bob went, placing Auggie in his bed and covering him first with the duvet and then his Pinocchio blanket that had warmed him as a baby. Bob tucked the sage green and white crocheted blanket and Auggie's soft Dumbo stuffie in beside him before turning on the little fairy lights in the dark room.

Bob made his way back downstairs, following the smell of the savory lunch you had made while the skies had darkened outside. "You doin ok sweet pea?" he asked, pulling you in and kissing you.

"Now that I can walk around a little bit," you answered. "Princess wasn't really letting me sleep much, but other than that, I'm alright."

"Where's Patrick?"

"He's upstairs, asleep in his room," you answered. "Guess the pumpkin picking tired Auggie out."

"Ran the thing down the hill until he got to the truck," Bob chuckled.

You laughed as the image popped into your mind of little Auggie running after the pumpkin. "You think he'll wake up and we can carve it later?"

"We'll see," Bob answered. "I don't know if we'll be able to fit it in the house though."

You relaxed in his arms, the baby girl in your belly finally settling down long enough to relax herself. You couldn't wait to carve the pumpkin and see Auggie's little face light up at the sight of the future jack-o-lantern that would soon decorate the farm.

[ghostofskywalker]

Hello Ghost!!!!

So good to see you around ☺️ truthfully I haven't been on Tumblr too much lately either due to .... Shall we say.... complications in life? To put it mildly :D just a small bit...I've had a lot of angst lately and illness I can't quite kick :D but I saw your winter ficlet fun and I'd love to join!!! I can't wait to see everything you'll come up with! I love your stories!

Can I request something with Hunter? Maybe some angsty holiday fun or misunderstandings or whatever XD with a happy ending? (There has to be a happy ending right? Because that's what hope is for? :D forgive the rambling of a sick woman :D) thanks in advance!

i hope you're doing okay now, i'm sending love your way <3 hopefully this is fluffy and hopeful enough for you!

words: 980

summary: After taking a chance and doing something brave, the batch has to leave on a mission. When Hunter comes back, the two of you finally get some time to talk.

What Feels Like Forever

clone troopers masterlist || request a winter ficlet

The longer you waited, the harder it was to get up and return to your regular duties. From a logical standpoint, sitting in the corner booth and staring at the door of the cantina was a useless endeavor, and it was doing no favors for your emotional state. You began to find yourself wrapped up in worries about the peril the Bad Batch was probably facing right now, and a pesky little thought about their fate (that you didn’t really want to contend with right now) took hold for a second in your brain. 

You had managed to momentarily distract yourself a few times, usually when a customer came through the door wanting a drink, but it was quieter than usual in here. Maybe it was the upcoming life day celebration, but the clientele of this establishment had (unknowingly) abandoned you when you needed them the most. But as much as you wanted to, there was nothing you could do to push those terrifying thoughts out of your head, because of what had happened before the squad had left. 

“Can I talk to you?” Hunter’s eyes moved towards yours, and you couldn’t help but admire how pretty his hair looked right now.

“Of course,” he said, stepping away from his brothers as they loaded up the ship with the necessary supplies for the mission. “What’s up?” 

Even though you were now faced with the perfect opportunity to admit your feelings, you still couldn’t do it. “I just wanted to wish you all good luck,” was what you said instead, internally sighing at the way you chickened out. 

Hunter smiled warmly at your words, nodding, “Thank you, we’re going to need all the luck we can get,” he said. “This is going to be a tough one.” 

This was not what you wanted to hear. “Oh,” you said. “Do you think you’ll be home by life day?” 

“I’m not sure. Tech wouldn’t say anything about the predicted outcome.” 

Your heart sank in your chest, and you spoke in a voice much brighter than you actually felt. “Well, we can celebrate with you all when you return!”

He nodded. “Yeah, that would be nice.” 

One of the others called his name from inside the ship, and the former Sergeant turned to move away from you. You considered the implications of his words, understanding the heartbreaking truth that every time they left on that ship they were taking a pretty big risk, and this particular one was steeper than most. 

Oh kriff it. 

You reached out to grab his hand, rushing towards him as he turned back to face you. You leaned in and placed a quick kiss on his lips, but that moment of bravery was gone just as quick as it arrived. 

You didn’t see the look on his face as you turned tail and sprinted away, wondering why you would do something so stupid. 

You wanted them to come back, but the sight of the Batch walking through the door would also mean that you would have to talk to Hunter, because he didn’t seem like the type to let something like that go. Hopefully you would be able to say something about how you weren’t thinking and you could still remain friends. Of course there was the small but persistent hope that he would feel the same way, but you tried not to put too much stock in that fantasy. 

Besides, Life Day was tomorrow, and there was still no word about when this mission would be over. There was no use acting like this, at least not until you had a little more of an idea about what was going on. 

You had finally gotten up from where you’d spent most of the day moping, and you were about to walk into Cid’s office (to ask her if you could just go home for the day) when you heard the door to the cantina open, and you watched five familiar figures step inside. 

All you could do was stare as Echo, Tech, Omega, and Wrecker walked by you, clearly heading towards your employer’s office. Hunter was the only one who had taken off his helmet, and you braced yourself for the reception of a harsh truth. There was no way he’d forgotten about everything, right? No, you weren’t that lucky.

Instead, you were wrapped up in the arms of plastoid armor, and before you could really register what was happening, Hunter’s lips were on yours, but this time things lasted a lot longer (and you certainly weren't complaining. 

“What-” you started to sputter when the two of you finally broke apart. 

“That was something I should have done before I left,” he said, a look in his eyes you never wanted to forget. 

“But I ran away from you.” 

“And I could have caught up,” he said with a smile. “But I was nervous about the mission and it took me by surprise, so I just stood there.”

“I shouldn’t have done-”

This time it was the look in his eyes (rather than his words) that stopped you from finishing your sentence. “If you hadn’t, we might still be on that mission right now,” he said. 

“What?” 

“I was so desperate to get back here and kiss you for real, I pushed the squad to get this thing done as quick as we could handle,” he said. “They hated me for some time, but once I explained, I think they understand my reasons - I wanted to get back here for Life Day, for you.”

Not knowing what to say, you just leaned in to kiss him again, and that continued until the rest of his family returned from Cid’s office. Teasing comments were made, but you barely even paid attention to them. 

You couldn’t be happier, and there wasn’t a thing in the galaxy that could change that.

- the end -

i no longer have a taglist! if you're interested in being notified when i post, you can follow my library blog @ghostofskywalker-library and turn on notifications!

[winchester-girl67]

Wild Hearts (Part 3)

Summary: After a day of sand surfing, Dean surprises Y/N after a couple too many drinks. Things go awry when she tries to help him and she finds herself stepping in between him and his father. 

Masterlist

Pairing: AU!Dean x reader 

Word Count: 4,238 

Warnings: underage kiss, age gap (reader is 16, Dean is 20 but closer to 21), physical abuse by a parent, violence, injury/blood, mentions of death and alcoholism, John is an asshole in this one, underage drinking, drunk!Dean, protective!Dean, language, slow burn, angst, a little heartbreak, mutual pining, a bit of fluff 

A/N: Even though this is the last part of the main plot, their story is only half over. 

_____ 

You shoved your beer in the sand and took a bite of your hotdog. Two bites later, Dean sat down next to you. You felt him side eyeing you but you didn't look over, you stared out at the horizon instead. 

"Are you that mad at me?" He asked with a quiver in his voice. "I fucked up, I'm sorry." 

You swallowed the last of your hotdog, "What are you talking about?"

"In the Jeep, my comment about your uniform, I swear I didn't mean it to come out that way. I figured you'd be mad, so I'm trying to give you space. But now you look just as upset as you were last night." He sniffled and shifted his eyes to the horizon, then back again. He took a deep breath and let it out slowly, steeling his jaw. 

"I'm not mad," you said, turning to face him. 

The others were far enough away that they couldn't overhear and only echoes of laughter met your ears. The sunlight shone down on Dean and you could see the layers of colours under his skin from where his father had hit him. And you felt the need to ease the tension. 

"You lied," you teased, shaking your can of beer that was nearly half empty now, "Chocolate's still better." You smiled and held out the can for him, "Want the rest?" 

He nodded and took the can from you, "I can take you home, if you want?" He still thought you were mad. 

You shook your head, "I haven't tried sand surfing yet. Could you still show me how? I'm scared I won't be able to stop and wipe out."

"Yeah, of course." He stood up and reached down a hand for you. You grabbed it and he hoisted you up to your feet, "Still friends?"

"Still friends." You smiled and this time he returned the gesture. "You can't get rid of me that easily, Dean." 

He chuckled, "Good because I tend to fuck up more than once." Then he let go of your hand like he'd forgotten he was holding it and chugged the half a beer you gave him. 

The others stuck around while Benny grilled seconds and you and Dean headed out to where they'd left the boards. Dean handed you one and you shuffled your feet into the bindings as if they were slippers. Dean did the same with his own board and stood so he was facing you. 

He grabbed your hands to keep you upright when you started to fall backwards, "Keep your knees bent and weight centred, okay?" You nodded and looked down the edge of the sand dune. It looked much steeper now than when you were further away. "Y/N, look at me." He smiled and it instantly made you feel better, "I won't let go, okay? We're just gonna ride straight down and once the ground levels out the board stops pretty fast on its own, not like in the snow." You nodded again, assuming there was more friction with sand so that made sense. "Ready?" 

He started to shift you both towards the edge of the dune, "Wait! Wait. How do I stop?" 

He chuckled when you squeezed his hands tighter, "You won't need to but it's real simple, you just lean back on your heels and lift your toes. Turning depends on how deep the sand is but you shift your weight to your front foot and move your hips the way you wanna go." He explained and you repeated his words in your head, slightly more confident you could attempt a stop or a turn if you needed to. "Ready this time?" 

"As I'll ever be," you laughed nervously and fixed your grip on his hands. 

One last shift and the boards started to glide down the dune, sand kicking up between you and covering the edges of the boards. Your speed increased and your hair whipped back in the wind and tickled your neck. It was a freeing feeling and you shut your eyes for a moment to bask in the feel of it. Trusting Dean not to let go and he didn't, even when your toes bumped together every now and again. Then the ground levelled out and you came to a stop. 

"How was your first time?" Dean asked, releasing your hands and slipping his feet from the bindings before he whipped his head up and raised his hands. Realizing what he'd just asked. "I didn't mean- I can't stop putting my foot in my mouth." 

"Dean, it's fine, I know what you meant and it was fucking awesome! Can we go again?" 

He laughed silently and chewed his lip, "Uh-huh." He nodded and you collected your board and followed after him as he climbed back up the dune. 

You rode down the dune with Dean as training wheels a couple more times until you felt comfortable enough to try it on your own. The last run you'd challenged him to a race and were now sprawled out on the side of the dune after colliding and wiping out. Luckily, it was near ground level and neither of you got badly hurt. Just a couple of bruises both of you would be proud to bare in a day or two. 

You stared up at the grey clouds rolling in overhead, a storm was coming. "Do you think it'll pass?" 

"Probably not," Dean said, following your gaze and getting his breath back after you'd winded him by landing on him. "Wasn't on the radar earlier though." 

You rolled over to face him and propped your head on your hand. Both your boards had been dislodged in the fall and lay a couple yards away at the bottom of the dune. Dean grinned up at you and booped you on the nose. His smile reached his eyes and his injuries, new and old, were forgotten. 

"How long do we have," you asked, knowing he'd have a better sense having lived his whole life in this town. 

"Half hour, tops." 

"Hmm," you flopped back down next to him using his arm as a pillow and feeling the heat of his chest radiate off him. "But I'm not ready to leave yet." 

"Me either," he breathed and dipped his head when you looked at him. 

Then his lips fit over yours and he kissed you gently. His touch was so soft that you barely felt the pressure of his lips before they were gone. He waited half a breath, green eyes searching yours, then kissed you again. 

Dean was leaning over you now, his breath ghosting over your lips before he kissed you a third time and the reality of it all finally sunk in. It wasn't that you didn't want this, you did, but it would come at a cost. One you weren't willing to let Dean pay. 

You pushed on his chest and separated your lips, "Stop." 

"I'm sorry," Dean scrambled off you and crumbled to the ground a couple feet away. "I'm so sorry, Y/N. I-I didn’t..." 

"Hey, Dean," you placed your hand on his shoulder, his back facing you. "It's all right, I'm not upset that it happened, but you do understand why it can't happen again, right?" 

Thunder sounded overhead, rumbling the ground beneath you and a minute later the Jeep was pulling around the dune to pick you and Dean up. Dean collected the boards and tossed them in the trunk, letting you climb into the backseat before he slid in after you. You wished you had a chance to talk to him without the others around. You didn't want to leave things with him like that but you didn't have much choice. 

You sat in bed after dinner, drying your hair with a towel and staring at your phone. You figured once you got the sand out of every crevice of your body you'd be able to think clearer but it had been hours now and you still couldn't decide what you wanted to text Dean. And then an ellipses popped up, Dean was typing... 

Dean: Have you ever seen Ferris Bueller's Day Off?

Y/N: Um, yeah. Why? 

Dean: Come outside. 

Y/N: It's pouring out. 

Y/N: ?!

Dean: ...

You hopped out of bed and tugged on your raincoat, slipping outside unseen as your parents had gone to bed and your brother was either playing video games or chatting with the blonde over video chat in his room. 

Dean spread out his arms when he saw you and stumbled over from leaning against Baby. His father's beloved car was parked in your driveway and a strange ugly butterfly fluttered in your stomach. You wanted to vomit after everything Benny had told you. 

"Don't," you pushed a very drunk Dean away when he tried to hug you. He pouted and fell back against the hood of the Impala, letting the rain soak through his clothes. "What did you do?" 

The front bumper of the car was smashed in like he'd kicked the damned thing and a headlight was shattered beyond repair. No way he could hide this from his father. But maybe if he was lucky, his father would think he'd done it by driving home drunk, as it seemed he often did. 

"Remember the Ferrari? The car in the movie. I've had dreams about doing that to his precious Baby." Dean said, looking down at the damage he'd done and laying his palm flat on the hood. "I tried, but I can't. I love her, too. I can still see my mom in the front seat, reaching over to baby Sammy the day we brought him home from the hospital. It broke him when she died. My father. He wasn't always like this."

"It's not the car's fault your father is an ass, Dean. It's okay to love her." He met your eyes and you could tell he was aching for a hug. So you gave him one. "It's not your fault either, you know." 

He squeezed his arms around you as his body shook and he sniffled. You rubbed your hands over his shoulders and he buried his face in your neck, reeking of booze. He couldn't drive home on his own and you needed to get Baby back in his driveway if there was any chance Dean was getting away with this. 

It took some convincing but you finally got Dean to let you go. You carted him over to the passenger side and pushed him in the seat. Then ran around and crawled in behind the wheel. You might not have had a license, but you knew how to drive, theoretically. You only failed the written driver's test anyway, which was more technical, and you were sure you'd ace the practical when it was time. 

Of course to do that you needed your learner's permit in order to practice driving. So aside from that one time your dad let you drive in circles around an empty parking lot, you didn't have much practice or knowledge about how cars worked; your love for pre-seventies muscle was purely aesthetic and luckily, Baby was an automatic. So you managed to get the Impala backed out onto the street easily enough and headed in the direction towards Dean's house. The hardest part was keeping your speed steady without watching the odometer the entire time. 

Then the rain picked up and coated the windshield so thick you couldn't see and you fiddled with the controls until you got the wipers going full speed. Dean wasn't much help and leaned over until his head was in your lap and he passed out. 

You were only a street away when you ran a hidden stop sign and saw red and blue lights flashing in the rearview mirror. You panicked as you pulled over to the side of the road. You we're screwed, Dean was fucked and there was no way Baby was making it home. 

You were stuck sitting in the waiting area of the police station for several hours. Dean had been carried off to a cell in the back where, presumably, he could sleep it off and your parents disappeared into an office the moment they'd first arrived and had yet to reemerge. You twiddled your thumbs and smoothed out your old pyjama bottoms, the ones with the Hello Kitty pattern. 

A tall, broad man entered the station and carried himself up to the front desk in oil stained work boots. He tapped on the wood impatiently, the whites of his eyes as red as his nose. He told the officer his name was John Winchester and he was there to pick up his son. You didn't think anything of it, you two couldn't have been the only kids in trouble that night. But then the officer escorted a slightly less drunk Dean into the waiting area and your heart threw up into your throat. 

You never asked what Dean's last name was. Winchester?

Dean locked eyes with his father from across the room as if he could feel his presence before anything else. He didn't glance around so he didn't see you and hung his head as he walked over to his father. You didn't hear what he said to him, but Dean hunched his shoulders even lower. And then they headed for the door. 

Sure, Dean got drunk, Dean stole his father's car and drove Baby to your house, and then Dean let a minor without a license drive while he was passed out in the passenger seat; but Dean hadn't got caught, you did. You should've been in more trouble than him and in a way you were -then Dean glanced back at you and mouthed 'I'm sorry' and followed his father outside- and you knew you weren't. 

You wondered, if an accident instigated the bruises Dean already had when you met him, then what would something intentional provoke. You thought for sure he'd have a cast the next time you'd see him and the old bruising would be refreshed, but then you thought of that scar. The scar you'd only seen a part of and a shiver ran through your jaw.

John might very well kill his son tonight. You might never see Dean again. 

At that thought, you were out of your seat and rushing for the door that Dean and his father had left through only moments ago. The officer at the desk shouted something behind you but you didn't stop as you skirted past him. 

You burst outside and scanned the parking lot, spotting a tow truck running with Baby hooked up to the back and you sprinted towards it. You heard shouting coming from inside the cab and then what sounded like a struggle. You climbed up the cab and ripped the door open. You grabbed Dean by the arm and wrenched him away from his father. 

Dean spilled out onto the pavement and you helped him to his feet. His lip bled where it split again and his left eye was clamped shut. You dragged him back towards the station but only got so far before you heard John spit and shout as he exited the cab and rushed after you. 

Dean grabbed you by your waist and shoved you forward, away from his father. Then turned around to face him, putting himself between the two of you. Protecting, like he always did, only now it was with you instead of Sam. You tried to tug his arm but he shook you off and stared down the beast of a man barreling after you both. 

John tackled Dean to the ground and pinned him to the pavement. It wasn't a fair fight, John was in a different weight class and just as his fist was about to make contact with his son's jaw for a second time, you screamed and jumped on his back, choking him from behind with the crook of your elbow. He cursed and you yanked hard on his ear with your free hand, digging your nails into the skin until the tips were sticky with blood. 

You heard shouting that didn't come from any of you and a rush of footsteps before you were ripped from John's back and thrust into your mother's arms. She held you tight as you tried to get back to Dean but two other officers were already separating the two of them and wrestling John to the ground, cuffing him. 

Anger and fear surged through your veins until all you could hear was your own heartbeat and you pried your mom's hands from your arms. 

You rushed towards Dean as he stood up and buried yourself in his chest. He groaned and bent his shoulders as he hugged you back. His cheek resting against your hair as he breathed you in. He was safe. 

It was over, as far as you were concerned, Dean and Sam could live with you until Sam aged out. You'd even give up your room, you didn't care. Your parents were fair people, they wouldn't make him go back to a home like that. Not now that they've seen it. 

You didn't realize you were crying until Dean shushed you and locked his hands behind your back. You were supposed to be comforting him, not the other way around, but he didn't seem to mind. 

It turned out John had already had a couple of offences when he was arrested and taking a swing at the officer detaining him was the last straw. He was going to prison, not for as long as he deserved but long enough for Sam to age out. They wouldn't have to worry about him for a while, but they needed a place of their own to start building a life rather than staying where they were and paying off their father's debt. 

So it didn't come as a surprise to you when a week later you saw Dean leaning back against Baby as he waited outside of your school, after your last class cut out. Sam was in the passenger seat and you couldn't even see in the back with all of their stuff crowding it. 

They were leaving. 

Dean's eyes followed you as you walked over to him, "Is this where you beg me to come with you?" You asked. 

He laughed silently, "I thought you'd beg me to stay." 

You sighed and played with your plaid skirt, remembering Dean's comment about your uniform almost made you smile, "So, where are you headed?" 

"Our Uncle Bobby and Aunt Jody's place over in Sioux Falls, they're not blood relatives but she and my mom used to be close, so they said we could crash with them for a while since they have a suite above their garage. And Bobby has his own auto-shop so he offered me a job." He explained with a sad smile but hope in his eyes for the first time since you'd met him. 

"How's Sam feeling about the move?" You asked, noting his forlorn little brother gazing out the window at nothing in particular. 

"He's not thrilled about being separated from Ruby." He leaned in close and whispered, "She's not a great influence on him, though. Bit of a pothead." You laughed and he bit his lip, "This is a good look for you, by the way." 

"I was wondering how long it would take you to comment." You blushed and spun around so your skirt flared and showed off your knee high socks. "I'm gonna miss you. This place is going to be so boring without you." 

"We'll see each other again." Dean cocked his head and brushed his lips to your cheek in a soft kiss, "I promise. This isn't the end for us."

"Don't forget about me." 

"That's not possible," his hands found your shoulders and he pulled you in for a hug, clutching you to him. "I wish we met sooner."

"You would've just left sooner." You said, holding him just as tight.

"Maybe, maybe not." 

"You'd still be too old." You teased. 

"Maybe you're too young." 

You sighed when he drew back, "You're taking Baby?" 

"Yeah," he glanced back at the car and the damage he'd done, "I have some amends to make with her and if my father wants her back when he gets out, he'll have to find me first." 

"You deserve her more than him," you said and he shifted on his feet, his chin quivering. "Text me when you get to Sioux Falls."

"Still gonna worry about me?" 

"Every-damn-day. So you better keep in touch." 

He cleared his throat and kissed your forehead, "Goodbye, Y/N."

You shook your head, you couldn't say ‘goodbye’, it would feel like forever. "I'll see you soon." You started to back away and head towards where your brother's car was parked. 

"Oh- uh, Y/N. Hold on!" He opened his car door and grabbed a package from the seat. "Don't open it now." He handed you a gift wrapped in newspaper. 

"I can't say goodbye again, Dean." 

"Then don't." He brushed a lock of hair behind your ear and turned around. 

You heard the familiar rumble of Baby's engine and lifted your teary gaze to see them take off down the road. Then Dean beeped the horn twice as a final goodbye and you burst into a half laughing, half teary-eyed mess. 

You didn't even attempt to reign it in for your brother's sake as you slid into the passenger seat with Dean's gift on your lap. You toyed at the edge of the newspaper and ripped it open. It was a framed picture of you and Dean sand surfing, although the boards weren't in the picture. It was before he kissed you, he'd taken a selfie after you wiped out with him the first time, insisting he needed to document the first time you laughed that day. 

"Are you okay? Do I need to beat his ass?" Your brother asked when you cried even harder. He was up to speed on everything, Dean's home situation and what had happened at the police station, so he was being an ass but a sweet ass. You just shook your head and showed him the picture. "I'm sorry, Y/N, I don't think I've ever felt that way about someone." Then he patted your shoulder awkwardly, but it was a start. A start at rebuilding a bond with your brother in light of recent events. 

You jumped out of the car when you got home, beelining for the garage. You picked up a hammer and nail and headed inside, brushing past your father. Who was making a point at being home more since the police station and he followed after you with a concerned look. 

You got to your room, picked the first wall you saw and tapped the nail into the sheetrock until only the head stuck out, your father watching silently as you did so. You smiled and dropped the hammer onto the bed, then hung up your first picture frame in your new home. It was only five-by-seven and looked tiny on the wall, but you didn’t care. It made your room cozy and warm. Then you dug out some moving boxes from your closet and started to unpack. Finally. You’d been dragging your feet since the move in the spring and left non-essentials packed away. 

"Are you working this Sunday?" You asked as you opened one of the boxes and started pulling things out and piling them on your bed. 

"I don't have to. Why? Is there something you wanna do?" Your father asked, leaning in the doorway. 

"There's a car show at the park," you suggested and cocked your head. 

"Count me in," he smiled and dug your phone out from his pocket. They'd taken it away in an attempt to ground you but they'd forgotten it was connected to your laptop the whole time. "Mom and I talked and we don't feel right about not being able to reach you." He handed the phone back to you. "No more stunts like last week, you scared the daylights out of us. We didn't know what to think when we got that phone call." 

It might've been the forced perspective that brought your family together but it took more than that in the long run. You realized at some point you stopped trying to connect with them too. And in order to reconnect, they had to try but you had to try too. Like making a house a home, it didn’t just happen overnight, someone had to take the first step and everyone had to put in the effort. Life gets busy and you take love for granted; it shouldn’t have took a wakeup-call to bring your family back together, someone should’ve taken that first step long before but you could learn from it and make an effort in the future. 

The text from Dean came later the next day. 

Dean: We made it! If you see Benny, please tell him to stop sending me pictures of the ocean. I get it already! But it's hard enough and this is better for Sam. And it won't be forever. 

You didn't want to believe him, but it felt good to; so you did. Hope wasn't something to be afraid of anymore. You would see him again. 

_________________________

Part 4

_________________________ Dean: @akshi8278 @laycblack @thoughts-and-funnies @mrsjenniferwinchester @crustycheeks @kazsrm67 @sexyvixen7 @lyarr24 @suckitands33  @eliwinchester99 @yvonneeeee @igotmajordaddyissues @djs8891 @leigh70 @globetrotter28 @backseat-of-deans-67chevy

SPN: @hobby27

Wild Hearts: @justrealizedimmascifygurl @evieluvsjamie @kimberkingrivers

[goldenavenger02]

know it's for the better (no, it's for the better)

To the world, that was the former prince, a young man who had been disgraced by his own family but was growing despite the adversity he had faced; but to Hakoda, all he could see was a child forced to go through too much that made him grow up too fast.

As the last embers of the shared fire died, the only thing Zuko could feel was the rough imprints of fingerprints in his tender skin leaving lasting bruising.

He wasn't surprised by the rough handling of him by the guards, between the trouble he was forced to cause in order for them to escape and the fact that he was the former, now disgraced, prince of the Fire Nation.

At the same time, however, the shades of blue and purple around his wrists and back of his neck were starting to ache uncontrollably now that the adrenaline was gone and the papery uniform itched against his skin against all of the hidden wounds that he refused to breathe a word of to Sokka; not when he finally forgave himself for the ambush now that they had succeeded in rescuing Hakoda and Suki.

So, he quietly made his way to the solace of the stone room while the others slept soundly outside before waiting for 'one, two, three,' and slowly peeling the papery uniform over his head and onto the ground.

It occurred to him briefly to burn it, but the smell of smoke could easily wake the others up which was enough of a reason for him to resist and focus on examining the bruising as well as he could between location and the length of his hair.

He knew that there was no chance of seeing the back of his neck, so he turned his attention to his wrists; the colors and designs weren't abnormal, given the fact that they were from rough hands dragging him from room to room, but he couldn't stop himself from pulling in a sharp breath after pressing down on them with his other fingers.

Within the bruising, however, were the white, jagged lines that extended up toward his chest; Zuko hadn't even noticed those lines until he arrived at the Western Air Temple and changed out of the tunic that smelled a bit too much like smoke for his liking.

He hadn't felt anything from them for days, but in the soft glow of moonlight making its way through the one window, now that he wasn't running on a lack of sleep and adrenaline, there was a soft ache that started in his fingertips and followed the current just like the lightning-

"Now I realize that banishment is far too merciful a penalty for treason. Your penalty will be far steeper."

Within a split second, Zuko pulled his hands inward, harnessing the whips of lightning his father had sent right towards his chest before making the split-second decision to shoot them at the bottom of the throne, enough to send his father flying toward the wall before running toward the war balloon with the smell of smoke following every single movement he made.

Zuko couldn't stop the tears from crashing down as he stumbled, his foot catching a stone on the way, knocking his already bruised neck against the wall; he choked on the sobs with a wince before tucking his head onto his shaking knees as the scars sparked like aftershocks against his aching heart when the memories came with the overwhelming realization. 'He has wanted me dead this whole time.'

…

Hakoda stamped out the last few embers with his boot before making his way toward the room that Sokka had shown him earlier that evening; the kids were seemingly content to sleep in the courtyard in their sleeping bags, but his back was simply too old and much preferred the carved stone bed.

As soon as the last spark died, he tiptoed around various sleeping bags that emitted various levels of snoring before making it inside the temple, but as he went to walk into the entrance of his room, a noise hit his ears that he hadn't heard in years.

The sound of a child desperately trying to catch their breath around violent sobs.

He whipped his head around, half expecting to see Katara or Sokka's blue eyes full of tears from the relief that he was alive, or even Aang trying and failing to keep it together as the pressure of defeating the Fire Lord was increasing day by day.

But as far as Hakoda could tell, all three of them were asleep, just like the others; he took a second mental headcount, and it was only then that the connection that made his heart sink came to light.

'Zuko.'

Hakoda had heard the rumors in his years at sea; the ones about a banished prince the same age as his own son, who disrespected the Fire Lord enough to have a permanent mark over his left eye before being sent away with no end in sight.

When the details had been shared over late night drinks below deck, he found his stomach twisting with disgust and guilt over a boy not much older than his own being publicly maimed and banished, but he found himself keeping his mouth shut.

After all, if he cried for every child who had suffered trauma in the war he himself had been born into, his eyes would never be dry; but the sobs weren't coming from an unknown child, or even the child of the enemy.

They were coming from the teenager who had risked his safety and his life to help Sokka after leaving his home on his own accord to help Aang.

Hakoda walked into the stone room that was adjacent to his own with a soft 'rap' on the doorframe with his knuckles before laying eyes on Zuko, who had his face pressed against his knees and made no sign that he heard the knock through the sobs that were shaking against his skin.

He wanted nothing more to get on his knees beside the teenager and pull him into a hug, but he forced his feet to stay firmly planted in the doorway as he found himself calling out, "Zuko?" as softly as he could.

It did nothing to stop him from flinching in response, his hands coming up from where they were tucked between his face and knees to cover his head, the sobbing never stopped as he maneuvered with his darkening wrists on full display.

But it wasn't the bruising or the sobs that caused Hakoda's mouth to fill with the taste of stomach acid and disgust, but the plea that broke through despite the crying.

"D-don't hit me."

Those three words turned his stomach violently in the same way that it had when he had found Katara after the raid that had taken Kya, but like he had back then, he forced it away and crouched on his knees.

"Zuko, I am not going to hurt you," he did his best to assure the teenager despite the fact that there was no signal that he could actually hear him over the gasping from his lungs, "can you take a deep breath and hold it for a few seconds?"

"I-I don't-"

"Can you try?"

His request was followed by a shaky inhale before the sobs went quiet for, "one, two, thre-" before the exhale followed.

But it was the pleas of "I-I'm sorry" interspersed with the renewed tears that only made Hakoda's heart clench tighter in his chest.

"It's okay," he insisted, even though he knew that his assurances were falling on deaf ears, "let's do it again, okay? Take a deep breath and hold it, just like the last one."

Hakoda was able to count to three before the exhale left Zuko, but the tears that followed the second time were less frantic and less in amount. 'It's working.'

He wasn't sure how long he coached the teenager through the slow, calm inhaling that he had used himself more times then he could count, but when they reached five twice and he had to tell Zuko to exhale, which he did without tears, he was able to take his own sigh of relief before finding it in himself to ask, "do you want help with the bruising?"

He expected the boy to send him away, or just tell him no, but even with the flush on his cheeks that could have been from the crying or from embarrassment, Zuko gave Hakoda a wordless nod that had him standing back up to retrieve his limited medical supplies from his room, despite the fact that he didn't want to take his eyes off of the boy.

"I'll be right back."

When he retreated back to his room for the quick reprieve, to pull out the futile pack that he always hid in his boot so he could try his hardest to help out the unfortunate soul who would die without his rudimentary skill set, he couldn't stop the few tears from falling down his face.

To the world, that was the former prince, a young man who had been disgraced by his own family but was growing despite the adversity he had faced; but to Hakoda, all he could see was a child forced to go through too much that made him grow up too fast.

It reminded him all too much of Aang, who had woken up after a hundred years to all of his people being destroyed, too much of Toph, who was forced back against her will and learned so much as a simple rebellion and too much of his own children, who had to lose him shortly after they lost Kya.

And 'fuck', when he thought too much about how much the war had taken from these children, who were still willing and preparing to go against the main perpetrator of this war, his heart ached for his soulmate who would have wrapped all these kids tightly in her arms before going so far to lay down her own life to keep them alive in the hopes of letting them be children for a bit longer.

He grabbed the pack tightly in his hand, only stopping himself when he felt the fabric wain under his hold to calm himself with a deep breath; the last thing he wanted to do was set Zuko off from his air of frustration with the world.

Hakoda loosened his hand on the pack before softly stepping toward the adjacent room, knocking once again on the doorframe before entering.

Zuko looked up this time at the noise, dry tear stains evident on his still-flushed cheeks and knees still pulled to his bare chest but no signs of more tear stains, more grief or more panic; a small relief that made Hakoda's tense shoulders relax as he sat beside him and opened the small pack.

"Now, I'm no healer like Katara," he prefaced as he pulled out the small flask of cool water from his pocket before soaking one of the bandages with it, "but, being on the ocean for years taught me a few things," he held out his empty hand, waiting until Zuko wordlessly placed his left wrist in it before firmly wrapping the gauze around the bruise, waiting for a sign of discomfort to cross over the scarred face that never came.

In fact, Zuko stayed completely motionless and emotionless until he started wrapping the bruises on the other wrist.

"I'm sorry, about…"

"You don't need to apologize, Zuko," Hakoda gently shook his head as he tied off the bandages and made notice of the soft, white scarring on his right hand that looked all too familiar to the ones Aang had running across his tattoos, "no one comes out of war unscathed."

The former prince simply nodded, looking rather intently at the stone floor and it filled Hakoda with an even larger hatred for the man who had cupped his child's face and set it alight.

"I know my daughter doesn't fully trust you yet, but regardless of who you are, she doesn't believe in unnecessary suffering."

"Why are you telling me this?" The boy looked up with two confused, golden eyes meeting his blue ones.

"Lightning wounds can cause permanent damage to your nerves," Hakoda explained, leaving out the part where Zuko was one of two survivors of lightning wounds he had seen and the other had only survived because of his daughter and spirit-blessed water from the north, "would you like me to speak to her about it in the morning?"

Even if every instinct of his told him to do it regardless, he waited for the explicit permission in order not to shatter the trust between himself and the lonely teenager, which he got in the form of a silent nod that he used as his cue to stand and make his leave, but not before stopping and looking over his shoulder, "and Zuko?"

"Yes?"

He so badly wanted to tell him to "wake me up if you need to" or "I'm on your side", but he settled for a simple, low tone as he said, "try and get some rest."

And when he didn't respond again, Hakoda forced his own feet to move so he could do his best to follow his own advice that he knew would be futile with the thoughts of anger towards Ozai and guilt over Zuko swirling in his mind as soon as he laid down on the stone bed.

[sirowsky-stories]

The Old Prince

So, this is my entry for the Halloween themed Pedro Pascal Writing Challenge hosted by @pedrocontestsrus Thank you for organizing this! And if anyone else is interested in entering the competition, here's a link to the post with all the info.

I chose Prompt #2 Theme: A Dark and Stormy Night. However, I suck at short, so this is basically just a teaser which I'm gonna have to continue outside of the contest.

Rating: Mature 18+ONLY Warnings: Monster Oberyn Martell x Female Reader, Game of Thrones AU, obviously Halloween themed, reader cusses, reader is attacked and abducted. Also, this is my first time writing Oberyn. Word Count: 4041 Author's Masterlist

   You run at full speed despite the darkness, ignoring the burning in your lungs and the furious pounding of your heart, even though you know that he’s already gone and that your running would only scare him off if he wasn’t.    The woods have always scared you and even now, in your mid-thirties, you still panic when you’re alone among the creaking old trees, spider webs and nightly active animals, all of whom seem intent on eating you. At least, to your own imagination.

   “Damned it, Casper…” you breathlessly curse the horse for leaving you, once you’ve been forced to a stop by the pain in your lungs.

   He’s normally very brave but being in the woods in the middle of a building storm is apparently too much even for his stout heart.    So, you’re left to walk the remaining four miles to your house, and not for the first time, you find yourself wondering why the hell you’d chosen to live all the way out here, surrounded by the very woods that have always been such a source of discomfort to you.

   “Because that was all you could afford, dimwit,” you chastise yourself out loud.

   The house you now live in had been put up for sale after the previous owner had been missing for a few years and was eventually declared dead, despite her body never being found.    It’s small and old, but well maintained and very charming, so you’d been surprised to be the only one interested in it.

   You’ve lived there for over six years now and while it’s a bit secluded and a little too far from town, you do love it.    The hiking trails leading up to the seven hills that make up the east boundary of the region run right by your property, and in daylight, you love to ride or just wander up to the peaks and admire the view.

   There are rarely any larger wildlife passing through so for the most part, it’s quite safe, so long as you remember to bring water and check for lose rocks on the steeper sections of the trails.    But now, in the near pitch-black darkness of night, you can’t even recognize the trail you’re on. So, why are you even out here?

   Well, that would be because you’d started out in daylight, as usual, but then gotten involved in a search for another missing person in the hills, which had left you out there until well after nightfall.    You had of course expected Casper to bring you home safe and sound, like he usually does no matter what’s going on around him. But unfortunately, on this occasion, the horse had lost its footing and fallen to the ground.

   He’d gotten up without trouble, but since you’d no longer been on his back at that point, he’d gotten spooked, probably by the reins getting caught in his legs or something, and had taken off.    You hope that he gets home without hurting himself, but you’re also quite angry with him for not recognizing your voice and staying by your side instead of running off on his own.

   But your thoughts are disrupted by a creaking sound coming from behind you, a sound definitely not created by a tree.    You stop, feeling a cold shiver move slowly down your spine, and you know that you’re in danger. You have no idea exactly what is watching you right now, but you know that something is.

   You hear that same sound again, mere moments after the first, and even as you instinctively set off running, too panicked to even know if you’re still on the trail, your mind tries to work out what the hell that sound is.    The winds are picking up, building towards the forecasted storm that has all the kids in town excited because of how perfect it is for the Halloween celebration, but it’s making it so much harder for you to hear if something’s chasing you.

   Unable to stop yourself, you throw a look over your right shoulder, and a strangled scream escapes you when you catch a glimpse of something impossibly large and strangely shiny, and then just teeth.    You try to run faster but you can’t. The dark world around you is a blur as you wait for those teeth to sink into your flesh and torture you to death. It seems to take so long.

   And then it happens.    You’re snagged to a stop so quickly that it makes your legs lift off the ground as they’re kicked forwards by the momentum.    Something has your shoulder between its jaws, but that’s as much as you’re aware of before the world fades away and nothing exists anymore.

-=¤=-

   You wake up on a bed in a room with a strange ceiling and stone walls. You’re groggy and only half awake, so it takes you a moment to realize that there are paintings covering the ceiling, making the stones look kind of fluid.    Beautiful images of stormy seas and a red sunset flow across the domed shape, bringing it to life in a way that stone shouldn’t be capable of.

   Then you remember, and bring your left hand up to examine your right shoulder, half expecting it to just not be there. But it is, and it feels fine.    You sit up, relieved but also confused that there’s no pain, and as your bare feet hit the cold floors, your eyes are drawn to the rest of the room.    It’s round and there’s a window in every direction, revealing the daylight outside, but also every detail inside.

   The bed is easily large enough for two people, and the sheets and blankets are the softest you’ve ever felt. There’s a loveseat underneath one of the windows, with plush pillows leaned against the armrests. In the middle of the room is a carpet which you can tell just by looking at it, likely costs more than your house. And the curtains, four matching pairs, all a deep red, somehow seem both heavy and feathery light.

   There’s a door to your left, and it’s standing open, so at least you’re not a prisoner. But you don’t feel like one regardless. All of this is so strange, because you’re sure that something bit you, but you can’t find any wounds in your skin.    There are holes in your shirt, though. And where’s your jacket? Why are you barefoot?

   You head for the door and find a winding staircase leading down, so this is apparently a tower.    At the foot of the stairs is a corridor and then more stairs, twirling the other way this time, so you keep heading down, passing closed doors and empty spaces until you reach a pair of large double doors that are left wide open.

   There’s a fire crackling inside and your cold feet and bare arms have left you shivering, so you head inside, finding the biggest open fireplace you’ve ever seen, in the other end of the huge room.    It must be a ballroom or excessively large dining room, but it’s completely empty, save for a padded short stool in front of the fire.

   You sit and warm yourself, trying to think back, to remember any details that might help you understand what’s happened to you, but nothing comes to mind.    And then a movement to your right startles you to your feet.

   “My apologies, miss. I have a habit of moving quietly,” a dark and low voice says, and when you locate the man who that voice belongs to, you’re momentarily stunned into silence.

   He’s tall and broad, but quite lean, with a perfectly chiseled jaw and a beard trimmed to accentuate that. He wears no jewelry, but his dark green coat has golden threads and small embroideries on the cuffs and along the collar. Shapes too small for you to make out at ten feet of distance, but which from afar remind you of snakes.    Still, it’s his eyes that rob your brain of most its function.

   So dark, but also incredibly expressive. He’s curious, intrigued, but wary. As though you might pose a threat to him somehow, which seems impossible to you.

   “W-… Where are my shoes?” you manage to croak, still unable to break away from his eyes.

   “I took your shoes and your jacket to encourage you not to run away once you awoke. I’m afraid I am going to need you to remain here for the time being,” the man explains, and suddenly your brain wakes up in full.

   “So, I’m your captive, is that what you’re telling me?”

   “Yes, and no. You are my captive, as much as I am yours.”

   “What’s that supposed to mean? I have no idea who you are,” you counter, getting angry because that’s all you can do to keep from panicking.

   “My name is Oberyn, and this is my home. You’re welcome to explore as much as you like, but I would recommend staying away from the basement. Especially at night.”

   “Why? Do you have more prisoners down there you don’t want me to set free?”

   “Oh, there are cages down there, and many of them are occupied,” he says, while taking a few steps closer to you. “But I doubt that you would want to release any of the creatures that are locked inside.”

   Creatures? What the hell does he mean by that?    He’s only three feet away when he stops, just as the outside light catches his eyes at a different angle, and you can swear that you see something else within them. A bright golden shine seems to illuminate them from within for just a fraction of a second, as if reacting to the sun’s rays.

   “The tower is yours. I will not venture there without your approval for the duration of your stay.    But the rest of the castle is my domain, and you move through it at your own risk. Do you understand?” he asks, to which your anger flares.

   “Understand? No… I really don’t.    Who are you?! What is this place, where the hell am I?! There aren’t any castles anywhere near the seven hills! And what the hell was it that chased me last night, and why do I have bitemarks in my shirt but not on my skin?    What the fuck is going on?!”

   He lets you scream and rant without so much as a twitch bothering his mustache, and says nothing as you begin to pace in front of the fireplace, crossing your arms in silent defiance, but also an attempt to guard yourself against all this strangeness.

   “You were bitten by a serpent,” he quietly says, just as you’re about to give up and leave the room.

   “It was a lot bigger than any snake, and it had a lot more than two fangs,” you counter, all but spitting at him now, further angered by the notion that he might be trying to convince you that you imagined the whole thing.

   “I didn’t say that it was a snake,” he replies, and you stop pacing.

   “And what is a serpent if not a damned snake?” you challenge, but he seems unbothered.

   “Is that all it can be? You must think broader than that, young one.”

   His words make no sense to you. Serpent, snake, fucking danger noodle, it’s all the same.    And “young one”? He’s at most five years older than you.

   “Please, just tell me where we are?” you finally ask, deciding that there’s probably no point in trying to argue with this mystery man.

   He looks at you for a good minute then, as if trying to decide if he should answer, and you notice that he doesn’t blink a lot, which is surprisingly unsettling.

   “We are six hundred and nine miles from your home. Give or take a few dozen feet.”

   That takes you a second to process.

   “What!?” you almost scream, unable to take any more of this incomprehensible nonsense. “Do you honestly expect me to believe that you had a fucking helicopter hidden in the woods, or something?”

   “Take a look outside the windows,” he calmly suggests. “I’m sure the snow on the ground will help you come to terms with the truth that you are no longer as far south as you think.”

   Unwilling to take his word for it, you walk over to the nearest window, where the view makes your heart sink. Because he’s right.    Not only are there several inches of snow covering everything in sight, but you also don’t recognize the landscape at all.    And that’s when the realization of just how much trouble you’re in, finally dawns on you.

   Turning away from the window, you now meet your captor’s eyes, for the first time with fear brimming within your own. Unable to stop yourself, you try to back away from him but there’s a wall in the way, so you start moving sideways instead, heading for the open double doors of the room.    He doesn’t try to stop you, but just before you turn your back to him as you’re crossing the threshold, his expression turns incredibly sad.

   You run through the halls, fully panicking now and having no idea where you’re even going. But then another set of large double doors are in front of you, so you grab the handle on one of them and pull it open.    It’s the front entrance. You’re standing on the top ledge of another staircase, this one twisting off in both directions, leading down to a massive courtyard.

   There’s a fountain in the shape of a rearing Pegasus in the middle, so big that the lilac shrubs which surrounds it barely even reach halfway up its hindlegs. And beyond that, is a giant garden of cherry trees and rhododendron hedges, in the middle of which, a wide driveway comes straight through, right up to the courtyard.    A driveway that’s so long, you can’t even see the end of it, where it disappears into the surrounding woods.

   You couldn’t run from here even with your shoes and jacket.

   The freezing wind brushes over your exposed skin, making you shiver and wrap your arms around yourself while sorrow suddenly burns through you, bringing tears to your eyes.    But then something soft and warm falls over your shoulders and you flinch, spinning on your heels and quickly backing away, further out onto the ledge to try and get away from him, which means stepping into the icy cold snow in just your skin.

   “Please…” he says, and he sounds alluringly soft and inviting now, which only adds to your suspicions. “I have no intention of harming you.”

   “Then how about you tell me what exactly your intention is?” you counter, barely able to keep your jaws from clattering with how badly you’ve started shaking.

   He takes a deep breath and then slowly releases it, somehow looking sadder and more tired with each milliliter of air that escapes him.

   “I just… I’m sorry. Please, come back inside before you get frostbite on your feet.”

   “That’s n-not an answer,” you challenge, already trembling all over now.

   “I know, this is why I’m sorry, but how is hurting yourself going to help the situation?” he wonders, and you have to concede that it doesn’t.

   You huff once in defiance, and then step forward, allowing him to wrap the blanket around you. But you hadn’t expected him to sweep you up into his arms and carry you inside.

   “Hey, I c-can still walk, p-put me down!”

   “The floors are cold here. I will put you down once you’re in a room with a rug.”

   “Or you c-could just give me b-back my shoes,” you gripe, and he hums in what sounds like a thoughtful manner to you, as if he’s conceding that maybe he was wrong to take them from you.

   But he says nothing more, and as he carries you through the empty hallways, none of which look familiar to you because this place is apparently a damned maze, you steal a few closer glances at him.    His skin is in better condition than yours ever has been, to the point where even his stubble looks soft. And his hair looks flawless. Not one strand of the curls on his head seems damaged or less bouncy than the rest. And the same goes for his beard and mustache.

   His clothes are perfectly tailored, and they look new, but they don’t smell like it. Instead, the only smell you detect seems to be his, and it’s not at all unpleasant. Contrarily, the longer you smell him, the more inviting the scent becomes.    You’re somewhat embarrassed to realize that you’ve stopped shivering with the warmth that spreads through you from within, just from that delicious scent.

   The room that he finally turns into is small and smells of paper, reminiscent of the old bookstore in the city back home, run by a sweetheart of an old lady who also happens to be the grandmother of the missing woman who’s house you live in.    She was the only one who’d come by with a housewarming gift after you’d moved in. That’s how sparsely populated your social circle is.

   It looks to be an office, of sorts. There’s a fireplace here too, already lit and crackling warmly in the far corner of the room. To the left is a desk filled with scrolls of paper and what looks like old maps of countries you don’t recognize, and to the right are shelves filled with more scrolls, books and scraps of paper.    There’s an armchair and a small sofa in front of the fire, and he sets you down on the sofa before kneeling in front of you to inspect your wet and freezing feet.

   You’re about to argue that you’re perfectly capable of tending to your own extremities, but something about his touch stops you.    His fingers seem warmer than they should be, almost feverishly so, but more than that, his skin feels like it’s giving off tiny electric impulses where it meets yours. And the feeling is highly intoxicating.

   He quickly examines your feet and then sits back and looks up at you again, where a curious expression flashes across his features as he notices that you’re suddenly a bit out of it. He seems concerned at first, and then… is he blushing?

   “If I get you your socks and your boots, will you promise me that you will not go running into the woods and getting yourself lost?” he asks, sternly holding your gaze while he looks for any traces of deception in your answer.

   Except you don’t give any. Because you can’t make that promise. Not when you still don’t know why he’s brought you here or why he intends to keep you here.

   “I don’t suppose it would make much difference if I told you that we are much too far away from any other people for you to make it there alive in winter?” he sighs, and he does seem genuinely worried that you won’t believe him.

   “Actually, I do believe you on that part. I just also believe that dying while running for your freedom might be better than living in captivity,” you explain, and once again, something terribly sad comes over him.

   “I really wish you could trust that I don’t intend to harm you, young one.”

   “Why do you call me that? I can’t be that much younger than you.”

   He chuckles drily at that, but it’s a sound of hopelessness rather than bemusement.

   “If only that were true…” he says quietly, turning his gaze to the floor for a moment before he rises and leaves the room.

   When he returns, only a few seconds later, he’s carrying your shoes and wool socks, both of which he appears to have cleaned, hands them to you and then steps back while you put them on.    For a moment, you contemplate more questions, but the more you think about the strangeness of this whole situation, the more you just want to pretend that it’s a dream and that you’re gonna wake up and laugh at yourself any second now.

   “The tower’s mine?” you find yourself asking, instead of any real questions.

   “That whole wing is yours for as long as you’re here,” he nods.

   “And how long might that be?”

   “For now, I can’t say with any certainty, but hopefully no more than a few days.”

   He does look genuinely apologetic as he says that, but you’re relieved to hear it. Somehow, you’d envisioned being a captive for years, locked away in that tower. But there’s something innately honest about this guy. You have no reason to trust anything he says, and yet you do.

   “And what determines how long my stay ends up being?” you wonder, while rising from the sofa and daring yourself to take one step towards him.

   He doesn’t react in any visible way to your truly minimal challenge, but you wonder if perhaps he likes that you don’t just accept your circumstances when they don’t feel right to you. There’s a little glimmer in his eyes that might just be a hint of awe.

   “How long it takes me to figure out how you’re still alive,” he quietly answers, bringing you back to the severity of the moment.

   Turning away from you, he reaches for an old-fashioned candlestick holder, lights the candle and then hands it to you.

   “Living light reveals the path to the tower,” he says, as if that isn’t the most useless piece of information you’ve ever gotten, and then gestures to the open door.

   Utterly confused, you step out into the dusky hallway, half expecting the wooden door to slam shut behind you, but it doesn’t.    When you turn back to ask him which direction to turn, you find him right behind you, already showing you to the right with a gentlemanly open hand aiming that way.    You nod your thanks and begin walking, still without a clue as to what the candle is meant to show you. Until it does.

   Once the dancing light hits a certain wall, a faint glow appears in a thin line running along the wall, around waist-height.    You follow it, seeing it fade away as soon as the flame isn’t directly in front of it, and before you know it, you’re back at those winding stairs.    Walking back into the chamber at the top, you find that nothing’s moved since you left.

   You walk around the room, examining everything more closely, finding two large and fully stocked bookcases hidden behind drapes on either side of the fireplace. There’s also a closet built into the wall next to the bed, and there are very old dresses hanging in there, covered with dust, making you wonder who the girl might’ve been that those clothes had originally belonged to.

   Realizing that you haven’t asked your captor how to get food or how he intends to figure out how you’ve miraculously healed, you spend a few minutes pondering on whether you’ve got the energy to make the long walk back down to look for a kitchen and ask if you’re expected to come down from your tower at any specific times.    But ultimately, you decide to leave it for now, picking out a book instead. You’re too stressed still to be able to eat anything anyway.

   The book keeps you occupied for the entire afternoon, and it isn’t until it grows dark that you eventually close it and get up, intending to go looking for that kitchen.    You’d left the candle holder in the window that faces the front of the castle, although you can’t see the courtyard from behind the main structure, but as you go to pick it up, a movement outside catches your eye.

   Peering down towards the ground, you see a door swing open, and then something runs across the section of the yard that you can see. It’s so fast that you can’t be sure, but it looks like it could be what attacked you last night.    And it looks like… a dragon.    A dragon that just ran out of the same castle where you’re trapped.

Part 2

Thank you for reading! I had so much fun with this and I'm nowhere near done with it. Huge Thanks to @joelswritingmistress for inspiring me to take on Oberyn, I didn't think I ever would.

If anyone wishes to be notified when this story is updated, follow @sirowsky-stories and turn on notifications, or just ask nicely, and I'll tag you.