#and he can hide his tail the only thing he can’t like shift away are the head wings

[10piecechickenmcnugget]

sketchbur

[all-purpose-dish-soap]

48 / 1.1k / shark mermen Ghost and Soap + lionfish mermaid reader, courtesy of @porcelainpot :)

...

The moment you and Soap lock eyes, you push yourself up off the soft sea floor. Tendrils of sand, gold in the sun, trail after your tailfin all the way back into the tangle of reef coral you’ve claimed as your home.

Soap laughs behind you.

Why is he so obsessed with this? This stupid game he plays. Ghost—who rolls over near the sunny patch where you were just lazing together—doesn’t care when you’re around. You don’t bother him; he doesn’t bother you. But Soap won’t leave you alone. He all but ignores the clear warning signs all over your body—the auburn striping your tail; your bright, fanlike fins; the enormous fuckoff venom-coated spines running the length of your dorsal line, arms, and ear fins.  

You scowl. Every time you think he won’t find you when you venture out into the reef, every time you let yourself relax after the day’s hunting is done, he turns up. Watching you the same way he’s looking at you right now: too fucking closely. His eyes flash with mischief and lock onto your fins through the sparse gaps in your coral cave.

“Think she bites?” he asks Ghost.

Ghost grunts. “Most things do.”

“Saw her lookin’ at you like she might want to take a piece home.”

“Doubt it.”

“Doubt you’d feel it if she did. Could hardly kill a minnow with those wee teeth. Don’t know how she hunts with ‘em.”

You duck down back into the entrance of your cave with a flick of your lacy tail. He’s talking loudly enough for you to hear on purpose. “You’re never getting close enough to find out,” you snap.

Soap’s smirk stretches into a grin. You took the bait. “Can’t hide in your cage forever, can ya?”

Ghost rolls back over. “She’s got more sense than the ones who swim toward you.”

“Oh, piss off. Fleein’ from a predator is what prey fish do. It’s a natural response.”

You lurk a little further outside your cave. “I’m not prey. I’m just as much a predator as you sharks.”

This time, Ghost is the one who scoffs. “Sure you are.”

Soap swims up closer to your hiding spot, eyes roaming over your form. You bristle instinctively and raise your spines in warning as he drifts closer. But it doesn’t drive him away. If anything, it seems to draw his interest even more.

“Ya’ve got an impressive display, I’ll give it that,” he says. “But you’re a scrap compared to us.”

“So? I don’t need size to defend myself.” You fan your fins up higher, emboldened as you rise with the current.

Soap grins even wider at the threat display. You’re all barbed fins, colorful scales, and angry pout. His gaze reflects the challenge you’re issuing him. “Careful sayin’ that. I’ll chase you if you tease me.”

Ghost lets out an irritated growl at Soap’s flirtation, knowing very well Soap only says these things to get a rise out of you. “Those spines aren’t just for show, Soap. You know what lionfish venom feels like. Bet hers is worse. Might kill you. You think it's worth dying just to prove a point?"

“I think spines break as easy as they sting.”

Anger surges through your chest. “Brute,” you snap.

Soap laughs. You don’t seem to notice you’ve drifted some distance away from your hiding spot, but he has. Ghost shifts, side-eying both of you more closely.

“I’m just curious, gorgeous.” His senses sharpen with the thrill of your threat display and your anger. Of course he thinks it’s sexy. The more you insult him, the more he wants to see what it takes to earn more than just that sharp tongue of yours. “Think touchin’ you might be worth the sting.”

“You’d be wrong.”

“You’re cute when you’ve got a problem with me. Gnashin’ like a miniature barracuda.”

You puff up a little more, daring to swim closer. You’re smugly satisfied when he backs away a little in response.

“Try it,” you bluff.

Soap’s eyes drop down, tracing the length of your fins, and he grins. He’s just as aware of the lethality of any lionfish's wicked barbs as he is of their beauty, but he doesn’t seem particularly deterred by the threats of this particular mer wielding them. “Bet you wouldn’t bite me too hard.”

“Soap.” Ghost’s voice is calm, but a warning lurks in his tone. “Don’t provoke her.”

“Where’s the fun in that?” Soap replies without looking away from you. “Bet those spines are brittle.” He reaches forward to touch one.

You hiss and whip your tail away on instinct, darting back. Your spines are still raised in defense. But your rational mind doesn’t want to risk him getting any closer. You don’t want him to know what happens if he's stung--that your venom is a faulty mimic of a true lionfish. He needs to think you're dangerous and keep his distance. And you need to keep your pride intact.

Soap hardly notices how upset you are. He’s thrilled to provoke an interesting new reaction out of you. Before he can reach out again, though, Ghost grabs his wrist and jerks him back, forcing him out of your personal space.

“Don’t be an idiot. You’re not fast enough to avoid a sting.”

“You’re no fun, Ghost.”

“Fuck off,” you snap. Your heart is pounding. He got too close, way too close.

You retreat while Ghost has ahold of him, slipping down into your small den and out of sight. Soap calls after you, but he’s not surprised when you don’t come back out.

Soap rips his wrist out of Ghost’s claws with a muttered curse. At Ghost’s hard look, he snaps, “Like you wouldn’t do it too.”

“That’s not the problem. She’s a pincushion. You go pissing her off too much, you’re going to wind up full of poison.

“Aye.”

“And it'll probably kill you. Hurt the whole time doing it. It’s all fun and games until you’re dying because you just couldn’t help but poke a pretty fish.”

Soap scoffs. “You’re exaggerating. No sting can kill me. It'll hurt a little an’ I’ll be fine.”

Ghost gives Soap an unimpressed glance. “And if you're wrong? You think you’re strong enough to fight off a neurotoxin.” He snorts. “You want to test that hypothesis?”

Soap glances back at your den with a frown.

“Keep your bloody distance,” Ghost mutters, giving Soap a shove back toward the center of the reef. “She’s no prize.”

Soap gives in and turns back toward the reef, turning a restless corkscrew in the water. Still, the smirk reappears on his face. “Aye. Little nightmare, isn’t she?” He sighs. “All bite and no kiss.”

...

[part 1 ] / part 2 by porcelainpot here!! <3

more mer au / more Soap / masterlist

[gothicxreylover]

I’d like to thank you for doing an absolutely perfect job on my requests. I hope you don’t mind if I give you another one.

yandere hashira’s plus Aoi x a Tanuki reader who accidentally revealed their true form (which is just a small chubby little raccoon thing) and immediately tries to run away from the scene.

•❅───✧❅✦❅✧───❅•

Yandere Hashira’s and Aoi with a small Tanuki raccoon reader

•❅───✧❅✦❅✧───❅•

Rengoku

Rengoku’s golden eyes widened as you transformed before him. One moment, you were the human-like S/O he adored; the next, a plump little tanuki stood in your place, eyes wide with panic. Before you could dart off, his hand shot out, effortlessly scooping you up by the scruff of your neck.

“Running from me? Nonsense!” Rengoku exclaimed, his voice booming with excitement. He held you up to his face, a beaming smile plastered across his features. “You’re even more adorable than I imagined! This form only proves your uniqueness. I’ll cherish every part of you—every form of you!”

Despite your squirms and tiny growls, Rengoku cradled you protectively, his grip unyielding. “You can’t escape me, little one. I’m your protector, your partner. I’ll make sure you stay by my side, no matter what.”

Sanemi

The moment you shifted into your tanuki form, Sanemi froze, staring at you in stunned silence. The realization of your true form dawned on him, and before you could scurry away, his sharp instincts kicked in. With one swift motion, he caught you by the tail, holding you up in the air as you wriggled and squeaked in protest.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing, running away from me?” Sanemi growled, his tone low and dangerous. His lips curled into a twisted smirk. “You think I’d let you go just because you look like… this? You’re mine. Every part of you belongs to me, and I’ll kill anyone who even thinks of taking you away.”

He cradled you close, his grip firm yet oddly tender. “Try running again, and I’ll make sure you can’t. You’re safer with me than anywhere else.”

Giyuu

Giyuu’s calm exterior cracked ever so slightly when he saw your small, chubby tanuki form. His eyes softened, but the moment you tried to scamper away, his hand moved faster than you thought possible, pinning you gently yet firmly to the ground.

“You’re running from me?” he murmured, his voice cold yet tinged with hurt. “After everything, you’re still trying to leave?” He scooped you up with surprising ease, his grip unshakable despite your frantic movements.

“No matter what form you take, I won’t let you go. You’re mine, and nothing—not even your little tricks—will change that.” His tone was quiet but resolute, his obsession masked by his usual calm demeanor.

Obanai

Kaburamaru hissed as you shifted into your tanuki form, your round body a stark contrast to your human guise. The moment you bolted, Obanai’s eyes narrowed, and Kaburamaru slithered forward, coiling around you before you could escape.

“Running?” Obanai’s voice was sharp, his mismatched eyes glinting with dangerous intent. “You think I’d let you disappear? You’re mine, no matter what form you take.”

He gently picked you up, his hands surprisingly soft as they cradled your trembling body. “This form doesn’t change how I feel about you. If anything, it makes you even more precious. But don’t think I’ll let you hide from me again. I’ll always find you.”

Tengen and His Wives

The moment you transformed, Suma let out an excited squeal, while Makio and Hina froze in shock. You darted off, hoping to escape the embarrassment, but Tengen’s reflexes were far too fast. He caught you mid-scamper, lifting you high into the air with a triumphant laugh.

“Flamboyant! Absolutely flamboyant!” Tengen declared, examining your tanuki form with delight. Suma rushed over, practically vibrating with excitement. “They’re so cute! Can we keep them like this forever?”

Makio crossed her arms, smirking. “Looks like you can’t hide from us anymore.”

Hina gently stroked your fur, her calm demeanor masking the possessiveness in her eyes. Tengen grinned. “You’re stuck with us now, little one. Don’t even think about running away—we’ll always bring you back.”

Mitsuri

When you transformed into your tanuki form, Mitsuri’s eyes filled with sparkles. “Oh my gosh! You’re so adorable!” she squealed, hands clasped to her chest.

But as soon as you bolted, she sprang into action, catching you effortlessly. “No, no, no! Don’t run away from me!” she cried, holding you close to her chest. “You’re so precious—I could never let you go!”

Her grip tightened, her cheerful demeanor taking on a slightly obsessive edge. “You belong with me, okay? I’ll take care of you forever, no matter what form you’re in!”

Shinobu

Shinobu’s lips curved into a sweet yet chilling smile as you transformed. “My, my, what a surprise,” she said softly. When you tried to run, she was already in front of you, blocking your escape with a gentle but firm touch.

“Now, now, little one,” she cooed, kneeling to your level. “Why would you want to leave me? You’re even more fascinating like this.” She picked you up with ease, her hands delicate yet unyielding.

“I wonder… do you transform like this often? Or is it just for me?” Her voice was light, but the underlying possessiveness sent shivers down your spine. “No matter. I’ll make sure you stay where you belong—by my side.”

Gyomei

Gyomei’s expression didn’t change when you transformed, but his large hands reached out calmly as you tried to flee. He gently cupped you in his palms, holding you as if you were the most fragile thing in the world.

“There’s no need to run,” he said softly, his voice resonating with warmth and obsession. “This form only makes you more precious to me.”

Even as you squirmed, his grip remained steady. “You are a gift, and I will protect you with my life. No matter how small you are, you cannot escape my devotion.”

Aoi

Aoi’s jaw dropped when she saw your transformation. “What… what are you?!” she stammered. But before she could fully process it, you darted off, your tiny legs carrying you toward the nearest exit.

“Oh no, you don’t!” she yelled, chasing after you with surprising speed. She caught you by the tail, lifting you into the air with a mix of frustration and awe.

“You think you can just run away after showing me this?” she scolded, holding you close despite your protests. Her cheeks were flushed, and her grip betrayed an almost desperate need to keep you close. “You’re not getting away from me. Ever.”

Muichiro

Muichiro’s blank stare lingered on you after your transformation, his usually foggy mind sharpening in that moment. The sight of your chubby tanuki form made him tilt his head slightly, as if trying to understand what he was seeing.

You didn’t wait for him to process it. Panic overtook you, and you bolted for the nearest escape route. However, before you could get far, a gust of wind swept past you, and Muichiro appeared directly in your path, crouching to block you.

“Why are you running?” he asked, his voice soft but eerily calm. His hand reached out to grab you with startling precision, his fingers curling around your small, furry form. You squirmed and tried to wiggle free, but his grip was steady, almost gentle, yet impossible to escape.

“You’re… small,” he remarked, staring at you with wide, unblinking eyes. “But that doesn’t matter. You’re mine.” His tone was flat, but the possessive undertone sent a chill down your spine. “Even in this form, I won’t let you leave. You shouldn’t try to run… it’s pointless.”

Holding you close to his chest, his grip was protective yet suffocating. His gaze remained fixed on you as if memorizing every detail of your tanuki form. “Stay with me. Always. You don’t need to hide or run away—I’ll never let you go.”

Despite his usual distant demeanor, the obsession in his words made it clear: Muichiro was not going to let you escape, no matter what.

[sageivy11]

no better than a dog

Price/Ghost/Puppy hybrid!reader

warnings/contains: puppy hybrid reader (only ears and tail), smut, slight dub-con (considering reader is a hybrid), fingering (r!receiving), afab reader, overstimulation, multiple orgasms, slight dirty talk, light dom!price, voyeurism, Ghost takes a backseat while Price does all the work, age gap (reader is young 20s, Ghost late 20s, Price early 30s), daddy kink

introduction: first time posting on tumblr EVER. little nervous 😓 i haven’t written in forever but randomly got inspired to write this since it’s been in my head and i couldn’t find it anywhere. i have no idea how space things or how to correctly align things sooo idk how this will come out. 2.6k words. writing tips and tumblr tips appreciated please. sortve proof read and written on my phone so… good luck!

A door creaking open accompanied by a giggle breaks the silence of Price’s focus on the television. He stiffens his posture slightly and turns his head towards the door of the 141’s private common room. He’s greeted by the sight of you stumbling into the room, tail wagging behind you as Ghost follows after.

You pant as you clamber onto the couch on your palms and knees, breathless giggles in the air as you plop right into his lap. Horizontal, stomach across his two thighs. A ploy for protection from the older man. He’d noticed a speck of dirt on your flushed cheeks as you filed in, as well as Ghost looking exhausted even with his mask still on. You’d come from some sort of drills with the way your clothes are uniform and not casual.

Ghost doesn’t even bother trying to snatch you up from Price, instead heavily slumping into one of the chairs opposite the couch he was sitting on. Price doesn’t need a single word from Ghost to figure out he’s not in the mood for whatever you’re up to. Still, he can’t help the way his lip turns up a little at the ends. He rests a hand on your back, amused as he smoothes down the back of your shirt. “What’ve you been up to, hm?”

“Nothing, Daddy-” you start with a falsely innocent tone, only to be interrupted by Ghost. “Bein’ a damn pest, she is.”

“Not true,” You pout a little from your perch, but only Ghost can see it. It’s mostly light-hearted, as you knew you couldn’t get away with a successful lie around them. Not that you tried.

“Having trouble wrangling the beast again, are you?” Price asks, smirking as he glances up towards Ghost from behind your wagging tail.

“Wouldn’t be so hard if she just listened,” he grunts, scowl still directed towards you. Price chuckles, his hand absently petting over your lower back and bottom. His palm is large and firm against your skin. You shift to snuggle in a little, tail swishing as you fold your arms underneath your head like a pillow.

“Been naughty, ‘ave you?” He asks, bringing his free hand up to your hair and lightly scratching behind your left ear. You hum from the pleasure, wriggling slightly in his lap. “No.” you assert confidently. As if there was no possible way Price would believe Ghost over you. You were his precious little thing.

Price just barely catches the roll of Ghost’s eyes as he scoffs. “Yeah, you were just a fuckin’ peach running a muck during your drills, weren’t you?” Your eyes narrow at him and you huff.

Ghost swears he’s never seen a more smug smile on Price’s face. “Oh, what could my precious girl have done to ruin your day?” He asks, sarcasm and amusement dripping in his tone just to watch your tail wag.

“Nothing-” you pipe up in a whiny tone, which Ghost interrupts with a “Quiet. Don’t get to complain when you’ve been practically biting at my heels all day. Must’ve just slipped your pretty little head all the times you’ve run from me when I told you to stay, huh? Hiding in the bloody equipment room, trying to snatch candy from a diabetic just because you’re curious.” he growls. Price laughs at the absurdity of it all.

“I didn’t know,” You pout at the last part, a frown on your lips. It’s true. You didn’t. And who can expect a puppy to not accept the opportunity of abandoned candy? You were practically salivating at the idea, but Ghost had your wrist in a tight, cold grip under his gloved fingers before you could even take a step toward it. Damn him and his ability to always be able to read your mind.

“Seems a bit of a punishment is in order, is it?” Price asks, his gaze shifting towards Ghost with a particular excitement in his eyes. Ghost pauses before he responds, trying to read the expression in his eyes. “Askin’ for a spankin’ with her arse up in your lap like that f’you ask me,” he utters. Quiet, as if it was just an afterthought and not a clear insight into his mind at the moment.

Price sees this, and recognizes it. He could let you get away with it, only frustrating Ghost more. He could spank you right here, humiliate you in a way that might bridge a gap between the three of you. Or, he could turn that anger, that deeply hidden and buried secret of Ghost’s arousal towards you into something more. Something tangible.

He sighs, the hand in your hair gripping the strands and gently pulling until your head is craned back. Your lips pop open as if to say something about the awkward angle your neck is now at, but you pause at the expression on his face. Your eyes flutter over his face. A pinch between his eyebrows, an interested gaze in his eyes, and a faux frown on his lips. Price starts talking before you can gather your thoughts and pipe up.

“Seems like Ghost won’t be satisfied until you get a punishment. And you’ll take it like a good girl for Daddy, won’t you?”

You practically melt at his syrupy, smooth tone. He’s playing right into that deep-seated need for some type of authority figure. Someone gentle. Someone firm. Someone that told you what to do when you needed it. Daddy.

You nod absently. Lips still parted, eyelashes fluttering over your cheeks. You hadn’t gotten a single punishment while under the 141’s guidance. Scoldings, sure. Now, you weren’t a star pupil. But at your heart, you were a good girl. Puppies can’t be perfect all the time, can they? You didn’t know what their punishments entailed, but you were pretty sure you trusted John enough at this point that you weren’t afraid.

John smirks at your expression, already looking like you’ve fallen under some sort of spell. It looked more like a smile to you. “Yeah, you’ll be alright. You’ll take it nice and well for me, won’t you?” He asks, releasing your head to fall back down into your arms.

“Mhm,” you nod. His hand previously on your lower back slides down to your ass. Giving a quick squeeze to one cheek before his other joins him to tug at your waistband and pat your bottom. “Up,” he mumbles.

You raise onto your hands and knees after only a slight pause. Was he seriously going to spank you? No, surely Daddy wouldn’t hurt you.

Ghost watches in interest as Price tugs your pants down to the crook of your knees, then fully off and beside his hip on the couch after some wiggling. Especially careful as he pulls your fluffy tail from its assigned hole in the garment. You settle back down onto your stomach after he instructs you to do so. His hand, all big and warm and familiar now, reaches for the band of your underwear.

He’s slow as he just glides his calloused fingers along the band for a moment, giving you more than enough time to voice any discomfort. You don’t, curious.

Price was a bit concerned when you first showed up at your complete disregard for personal privacy. They all were. But over time, he’d come to like it. Did he recognize it was a little selfish? Yes. Would he also take advantage of it? Yes.

He tucks his thumb under the elastic and tugs them down over the swell of your bottom. A deep-chested groan is pulled from his chest as he sees the white, sticky substance stringing from your leaky hole to the gusset of the underwear. “Fuck,” He breathes, leaving the underwear to snap back to your thighs as he shifts your tail aside to slide a thumb between the sticky mess, pulling a lip to the side to see your twitching, thoroughly used entrance.

Ghost’s jaw clenches, his gaze growing more heated. He ignores the stirring between his legs, urging off his erection. Every time he blinks he’s harassed with the image of you earlier this morning. Bent over the common room kitchen counter, shorts pushed down to pool at your bare feet. Shirt pushed up to your collarbones. Gaz flush against your back, cock gliding in and out of your sopping hole. His boxers at the floor. Your head turned over your shoulder for a filthy connection between lips.

It wasn’t just the two of you, either. Soap was in front of you both, separated only by the opposite edge of the counter. He was leaning forward, lips sealed around one of your nipples. Your other breast was accompanied by Gaz’s groping hand. His other hand? On Soap’s flushed cock. Soap’s pants were pushed down to his knees, one hand guiding Gaz’s on his cock. The other is between your legs to rub you even more quickly to completion. The dirty noises and moans will never leave his mind.

Price’s voice is the only thing to disrupt his train of thought. “Who had you today, baby?” His voice is a little deeper like arousal had punched him in the chest.

“Um.. Kyle.” You mumble, cheeks a little warm against your arms. You would’ve forgotten all about it if it weren’t for the fact you’d been dripping with Gaz’s spend for the past couple of hours. Ghost, Gaz, and Soap had recently gone on an assignment, leaving you alone with Price. You were a little sad, but you’d only been with them for a few weeks, and Price was probably your favorite anyway.

After going straight to bed, exhausted, you three had an interesting reunion in the kitchen. You didn’t mind. Maybe it was the animal traits bleeding through into you, but you were wet all the time. Not sexually satisfied until multiple orgasms. Crazy stamina. Good thing you had four soldier boys to help out with that, right? Well, three. You wouldn’t count Ghost since he’d barely touched you after the first time. You shiver at the thought.

You’re brought back to the moment by Ghost’s gruff voice. “And Soap.” You guess Soap counted too. But you didn’t think so, since he didn’t fuck you. What Ghost has taught you though, is whatever he says, goes.

Price is distracted by the absolutely delicious sight of your soaked mound. Barely listening. Only roused to respond when he hears you whimper as he runs a gentle thumb down your slit, brushing against your sore hole and sensitive clit. He’s almost jealous of Gaz. No, he knows he is. “Yeah?” He responds to Ghost, looking down to you for confirmation.

“I guess… sorta.”

“Specifics, love.”

“Well, only Kyle.. f-fucked me. But Soap was there too.” you concede, the curse coming out a little naturally. Swearing was strictly forbidden back at the facility. The guys had told you multiple times that you could say whatever you wanted, but it still didn’t feel right.

“That it? Only there?” He continues to question as he slowly pushes his thumb inside of you, cursing under his breath as the white, creamy liquid slowly gushes out around his digit. You whine and dig into your lower lip with your upper canines. You were still sensitive after Gaz.

“N-No. He was- mmph, Gaz was touching him. And he was touching me.” You stumble over your words a little as he pumps his thumb in and out gently. “A-Aren’t you supposed to be punishing me, Daddy?”

He chuckles breathlessly, slowly pulling his thumb out to watch your entrance contract. He drags his thumb down to brush over your clit. Your hips jerk, thighs tensing. “We’re getting there. Eager?”

“No.” You shake your head, burying your face in your arms. “Maybe. I don’t know.” You were a little unsure as to what he was getting at, and that would be your main point of anxiety. He must sense this because he continues the gentle petting on the back of your head.

“You’re alright, love. You know Daddy will be gentle with you. Hm?” He soothes as he lightly pets over your clit with his thumb. You twitch before you nod. His fingers slip inside of you once more, index and middle. He nearly moans at how easily his fingers are sucked in.

A low moan is pulled from your chest as he slowly presses inside, hands curling into the fabric of the couch under you. It feels nice, if not a little over-sensitive from your time before with Gaz. You can’t see how this would be a punishment. Not as he gives you the first orgasm or the second. You were starting to get a little sensitive at the third, a few tears slipping down your warm cheeks. Easily placated away by a few coos from Price.

You start to understand during your fourth as he wrenches it from you. Doesn’t slow between your third and fourth. Get a little worried, even. Ghost is scarily silent from his spot, but Price seems convinced this punishment will leave a lasting impression.

You screech as he fastens his pace right as you peak, not slowing down despite your incoherent babbles. His one hand is firm on the nape of your neck, keeping your upper body still with your face pressed in your tense arms. His other hand is busy pounding three thick fingers inside of you. You can’t control yourself with the sensations being so strong and sudden.

Your legs flex and bend at the knees, kicking up uncontrollably, heels hitting your bottom. You squirm enough that his fingers slip out and he struggles to re-enter them for a moment. He grunts and grips the back of your thighs with his soaked hand to still you.

You pant at the relief and whine at the prospect of an orgasm ripped away by your own doing. You’re whimpering into your forearms, tail sliding between your legs in an almost protective gesture. You cringe as you feel your slick spread to the fluff of your tail. You vaguely hear Price call out to Ghost over the blood rushing in your ears.

“Simon,” he grunts, trying not to get too frustrated. You’re just a pup, after all. You’re still learning.

Ghost nearly jolts from his spot across the room. At some point, unknowingly, he’d slid a hand over his bulge to grip tightly. As if to placate it. His fingers flex briefly before he jolts it away as he stands and steps over to the couch. “Coming, Sir.”

“Wha-..” you mumble, confused as to why Ghost is coming as you turn your cheek to one side. There seems to be some sort of silent communication between them you can’t quite understand. Ghost sits right next to Price on the right side, the side where your legs are. He sits nearly flush with Price, gripping your thighs just above the back of your knees and pinning them to his lap. Spreading them a little, too. Giving Price better access.

Price carefully tucks your sticky tail off to one side, gentle but firm. “Nooo…” You whine as you start to understand his motive. What were you supposed to do if you couldn’t squirm? Just sit there and take it?

“Shhh..” Price shushes you as he slips his freed hand between your legs once more, gently rubbing at your sensitive clit. Tugging your hood up with his middle finger, grinding his thumb against the exposed bud as you flinch. “Doin’ this for your own good. You’ll learn.”

Ghost has an even better view now that he’s up so close. He can see the pulsing of your entrance, inner thighs and Price’s hand completely soaked with your shiny slick. Can feel the warmth of your thighs, nearly taste the salty sensation of your skin. Can hear the way you whimper and moan much more clear now as Price slips another two fingers inside of you.

Ghost can’t help but fall silent again at the gorgeous, arousing sight in front of him. He knows Price’s schedule by heart, and nearly shudders at the relaxation he’s free for at least another hour.

They both are.

[d0llcuries]

hiii im new to your blog so idk all the rules yet but I was wondering if you could do a neteyam x navi reader ofc like when they first arrived to the reef you and tuk clicked immediately you both have a really close bond like you two spend a lot of time together weather it’s swimming together or making matching jewelry🩵 and that’s kinda how you and neteyam even started dating because of how much tuk would talk about you !!!! I hope this isn’t too much sorrrryyyy❤️ I love your work btwwww

TIDES THAT BROUGHT ME TO YOU

pairing(s): neteyam x fem!na'vi reader

summary: the sullys arrival to awal'atu causes a stir among your people, though you could care less about their presence. that is, of course, until a certain forest girl changes your mind

author's note: i fear there is an inexplicable pull within me to write yn as an absolute freakazoid in every oneshot i create. that being said, if you want yn to be normal in your request plspls specify her personality type otherwise she'll come out acting like winona rider from mermaids (1990). kinda fumbled this one too i should not be writing on my period 🧍

the first thing you notice about them is how thin they are.

their descent from the sky on their great winged beasts stirs up the sand in great, sweeping clouds, but it does nothing to hide the way their limbs, long and lean, cut through the air as they dismount. forest people. they move with a lightness, a caution that seems strange to you. the metkayina are not built like them. they are broader, bodies strong and firm, their muscles shaped by the tides and the weight of water. and their tails—their tails—eywa, they are so thin! practically useless. you wonder how they manage to balance at all.

you and tsireya emerge from the water, sliding off your ilus in one fluid motion, the cool spray of the ocean dripping from your skin as you wade through the shallows. the soft sand shifts beneath your feet, and your tail flicks lazily, trailing behind you as you approach ao’nung and rotxo, who stand together just ahead. tsireya pushes a strand of wet hair from her face, her movements graceful, her eyes immediately catching sight of the sully brothers—the skinnier of the two stares at her a little too long, his expression a mix of curiosity and something almost like awe.

you almost laugh when he nods in her direction, his voice low and far too confident. “hey.” (miles morales ahh)

tsireya’s face flushes a familiar shade of soft blue, and you cringe inwardly, the secondhand embarrassment hitting you like a wave. her reaction is painfully obvious, her wide eyes as she bends her head, a hesitant smile betraying her. you glance sideways, searching for a distraction, and rotxo is already there, as if sensing your discomfort.

“look at them,” he mutters under his breath, his voice pitched low so only you can hear. “how do they even manage with tails that thin?”

ao’nung, standing just beside him, snickers, his broad shoulders shaking with suppressed laughter. it's the kind of laugh that is infectious, spreading like ripples across the surface of the sea, and even though you are not cruel—even though you know it’s wrong—you can’t help the small tug of a smile that curls at the corner of your mouth. it’s all in good fun, after all. forest people, clearly they have wandered too far from where they belong. surely they won’t be here for long.

it is not that you want to make fun of them, these strangers who have come to seek uturu, but something about them seems... wrong, somehow. misplaced.

you were still laughing when you caught neteyam’s eyes on you.

his gaze was steady, calm in a way that she didn’t expect, and she felt the weight of it like a shift in the tide. not accusing, not angry, but watching. taking her in as if she were something curious. something strange. her smile faded, the amusement leaving her as she pulled her gaze away, pretending not to care. what was he looking at?

you shift your weight slightly, your arms hanging loose at your sides as you observe the exchange between the sullys and tsireyas parents. she watches them with a quiet, thoughtful expression, her brows knitting together in concentration. there’s no judgment in her gaze, no hint of the amusement that had touched your own. she looks at them with nothing but curiosity, a flicker of compassion lighting her features. she catches your eye and raises an eyebrow, silently urging you to soften. you sigh, the weight of her gentle disapproval settling over you. of course tsireya would be the first to see beyond appearances. she always does.

you’ve known her for as long as you can remember, since you were both small and would spend your days swimming out into the open waters, daring each other to dive deeper, pushing your lungs to their very limits. she has always been the heart of your little group, the steady, guiding force that tempers ao’nung’s bravado and rotxo’s sharp-edged laughter. where they tease and taunt, she soothes, her voice like the steady rhythm of the waves, always pulling you all back to center.

it’s no surprise, then, that you find yourself drawn into spending more time with the newcomers, tsireya���s gentle insistence pulling you along as she helps guide them through the early days of their stay. you are metkayina; you know the ways of the water, the ebb and flow of the tides, the secrets that the ocean keeps. it’s your responsibility to teach them how to live in this world, even if you don’t want to.

at first, you hang back, letting tsireya do most of the talking, watching as she shows them how to breathe, how to move, how to swim like the metkayina do. it was exhausting just to look at them. lo’ak struggles to hold his breath, his frustration palpable as he tries again and again to stay underwater. kiri moves with a sort of distracted grace, her attention more focused on the creatures of the reef than the lesson itself. you observe them with detached interest, your thoughts drifting like the waves.

you don’t care about them. you don’t.

and then, tuk happens.

you hadn’t meant to pay attention to her. in fact, you had barely noticed her at all in the beginning, the youngest of the sully siblings blending into the background behind her older brothers and sister. but tuk has a way about her, a brightness that’s impossible to ignore. she’s all wide-eyed curiosity and boundless energy, so unlike the others, who carry the weight of their family’s uncertainty like a heavy cloak. while they are cautious, tuk embraces everything around her with an infectious enthusiasm that makes her impossible to overlook.

you catch her one day after a particularly long lesson, her small hands fumbling with a piece of seaweed, attempting to braid it into her hair for whatever reason. her brow is furrowed in frustration, her lower lip caught between her teeth in concentration, and something about her determination—her fierce little spirit—draws you in before you even realize what you’re doing.

“like this,” you murmur, kneeling beside her and gently taking the seaweed from her hands. your fingers work quickly, weaving the strands together with ease. “you have to twist it more. it’s not like the vines in the forest.”

tuk’s eyes widen, her expression lighting up with awe. “wow! you’re really good at that!”

and that’s it. from that moment on, you can’t seem to shake her. tuk becomes your shadow, or maybe it’s the other way around. wherever you go, she’s there, trailing after you with an endless stream of questions, her small footsteps pattering through the sand as she tries to keep up with your longer strides. her curiosity knows no bounds, and you find yourself drawn into her orbit, unable to resist the bright spark of joy that seems to follow her everywhere.

the first time she swims with you, her movements are awkward, her limbs too quick and too stiff, and she sputters as she breaks the surface, her wide eyes filled with frustration. “it’s too hard!” she huffs, pushing wet hair from her face. “i’ll never be as good as you.”

“you will,” you say gently. “you just have to feel the water. do not fight it.”

tuk frowns, unconvinced, but she doesn’t give up. over the days, you watch as she grows bolder, more confident in the water. you teach her how to control her breathing, how to let go of her fear, and she listens, her small face set in determined concentration. she clings to your arm after each lesson, her bright laughter ringing in your ears as she pulls you back to the beach.

and with tuk, inevitably, comes neteyam.

at first, you barely notice his presence, too busy entertaining tuk. he lingers on the outskirts of your time with her, watching from a distance, never quite joining in but never too far away either. it’s easy to forget he’s there, his quiet nature blending into the background.

but neteyam has a way of making himself known, even in his silence.

it starts small. you feel his gaze on you more often, the weight of it something you try to ignore at first. he never says much, never interrupts your time with tuk, but you notice him lingering just a bit closer with each passing day, his tall frame casting a shadow over you and tuk as she chatters on about whatever has caught her attention in that moment. sometimes, you catch him smiling—those soft, fleeting smiles that seem to disappear before you can fully register them. they’re rare, but when they happen, they make your heart stutter, a strange warmth blooming in your chest that you quickly dismiss.

he’s deliberate, thoughtful, always watching, always observing. you can feel his attention like the gentle pull of the tide, steady and unyielding. it’s unsettling, but not in a way that you dislike. in fact, if you’re honest with yourself, it’s kind of... comforting.

tuk even speaks about him sometimes, her admiration for him clear in every word. “neteyam would love this,” she says one day, as you show her to repair a torn fishnet. “he’s so good at everything. you’d like him, i think.”

tuk had been telling you some story about their home in the forest, her small hands moving animatedly as she spoke, when neteyam quietly joined the two of you. he folded his legs beneath him, watching with that same gentle expression he always wore when tuk was around. you paused, hands stilling over the bracelet you were working on, and glanced at him out of the corner of your eye.

“you do not have to stop,” he said, his voice low and easy, the corners of his lips lifting in a small smile. “i am just here to watch.”

you thought about running away, getting up and leaving after making a up some excuse to remind them that you had better things to do than sit with them in the sand making bracelets. something about the way he spoke—his voice so warm and unhurried—caught you off guard. the way your heart bested faster when he was around, the way you caught yourself blushing like tsireya whenever lo'ak opened his mouth was... unusual. it unsettled you in a way you couldn’t quite put into words.

the three of you sat there in comfortable silence as you finished the bracelet, your hands working on autopilot while tuk chattered on, oblivious to the subtle shift in the air between you and her brother. you were grateful for her presence, for the way she kept things light without realizing it. by the time you tied the last knot and secured the bracelet around tuk’s wrist, you hadn’t noticed that neteyam had been watching you the whole time, with a softness that made you feel like he wasn’t just looking at you. he was seeing you.

“you are good at that,” he said quietly, his voice barely louder than the sound of the waves.

you tightened your grip on the edge of the bracelet you’d been working on for yourself, gaze dropping to the sand. “i have had practice.”

he nodded, still watching you. the weight of his gaze felt like a physical thing, pressing against your skin, exposing you in a way that made you feel uneasy. you were used to keeping your distance, keeping your indifference like a shield between you and his family. you had learned to tune it out, the presence of others—your people, the sullys—but with neteyam, it was different. you couldn’t ignore him the way you did the rest. but neteyam was quiet, his presence like the sea on a still morning, surrounding you without making a sound. you liked that.

as the sun dipped lower, casting warm golds and pinks across the sand, you tied the final knot and slid the bracelet onto your wrist. it wasn’t perfect—nothing ever was—but it felt right, the weight familiar against your skin. you held it up, inspecting your work, twisting your wrist slightly to catch the fading light.

“that one is beautiful,” neteyam said softly, his eyes on the small woven beads, the shells glinting like scattered stars. his gaze flicked to your wrist, then back to your face. “you should make me one.”

you blinked, your lips parting in surprise. “you want me to make you a bracelet?”

he smiled then, a small thing that felt like it could crack open the horizon. “well, you made one for tuk. i feel a little left out.”

you glanced at tuk, who was too busy showing off her new bracelet to the other children playing by the water to notice the exchange.

“i do not know,” you said slowly, turning the bracelet on your wrist. “i do not usually make things for people.”

neteyam tilted his head, his expression open, waiting. “you made one for tuk.”

“you do not even like it here,” you said suddenly, sharper than you intended. the words left your mouth before you could stop them, and you could see the flicker of surprise in his eyes. he opened his mouth to respond, but you continued before he could speak, your voice quieter this time. “you do not like us.”

the truth of it lingered in the space between you. you hadn’t forgotten the way they’d arrived, tense and uncertain, the way his brother had snapped at you and your people, the way his parents had worn their worry like a second skin. they didn’t belong here, and they knew it. the thought had made you laugh at first, but now, sitting here with neteyam, you didn’t know how to feel about it.

for a long moment, he was silent, his gaze turning out toward the sea, his expression unreadable. the light of the setting sun cast long shadows across the sand, and you could hear the distant calls of the other children as they played by the water. tuk’s laughter echoed somewhere nearby, but it felt distant, like the tide pulling away from the shore.

“you are right,” neteyam said finally, his voice low. “we do not belong here.”

the words were a simple acknowledgment, but they landed heavy between you, pressing down on your chest. you didn’t know why it bothered you to hear it. they didn’t belong. that was obvious. but there was something in the way he said it—something quiet, resigned—that made you realize just how heavy that truth must have felt for him, for all of them.

“but we are trying,” he added after a moment, his voice soft. “we are doing our best. even if it does not seem like it.”

your fingers tightened around the bracelet on your wrist, the edges rough against your skin. you could feel the weight of his gaze again, warm and steady, and for the first time, you met his eyes without looking away. there was something in them, something that caught you off guard. not sadness, exactly. not defeat. but acceptance. a quiet understanding that maybe, just maybe, you weren’t so different after all.

you swallowed, your throat suddenly dry. “i will make you a bracelet,” you said, your voice barely more than a whisper. “if you still want one.”

neteyam smiled again, that small, warm curve of his lips that felt like it could light up the entire ocean. “i would like that.”

over time, it became harder to stay distant, your walls cracking under the weight of his quiet companionship. you didn’t even realize how much you’d begun to change, how your awkwardness softened, until one day you caught yourself laughing at something neteyam had said—really laughing, not the half-smile you usually gave. it wasn’t that you’d stopped being strange or different, but it didn’t matter so much anymore. neteyam had a way of making you feel like it was okay to be the way you were, that there was no need to force yourself into shapes that didn’t fit. the space between you that once felt wide now felt smaller, warmer, and for the first time in a long while, you didn’t mind the closeness.

he listened, the way he understood things without needing to say them. they spent more time together, sometimes with tuk, sometimes just the two of them, and slowly, quietly, something grew between them.

it was in the small moments—the way his hand would brush against yours when they walked, the way he’d smile at you from across the water. you didn’t fight it, didn’t push it away. you let it come, let it settle into your bones like the rhythm of the waves.

one evening, as you sat together on a small outcrop of rock, watching the sun sink into the horizon, neteyam turned to you, his expression soft and open in the fading light.

“you know,” he said, his voice barely more than a whisper, “tuk talks about you all the time.”

you smiled, “does she?”

he nodded, his gaze warm. “she adores you. she’s always telling me how you are the best swimmer, the best jewelry maker. she even started asking me to tell her stories about the forest, because she wants to impress you.”

her heart tightened at the thought, and she couldn’t help the small laugh that escaped her. “tuk is very easy to like.”

neteyam’s smile grew, and for a moment, you sat in comfortable silence, the sound of the waves lapping gently at the shore below. then, quietly, he added, “she is not the only one who talks about you.”

you glanced at him, her heart skipping a beat. “oh?”

his gaze met yours, steady and sure, and the warmth in his eyes was enough to make you breath catch in her throat. “i do too. all the time.”

his gaze meets yours, steady and sure, and the warmth in his eyes is enough to make your breath catch in your throat. “i do too. all the time.”

you blink, caught off guard. a breeze rolls off the sea, pulling strands of your hair into your face, but you can’t bring yourself to move. his words hang in the air between you, sinking into your skin like the warm sun after a cold swim. all the time.

“why?” your voice comes out smaller than you mean for it to. you’re almost afraid to hear the answer, as if it would shift the ground beneath your feet, change the delicate balance that has settled between you both.

neteyam’s gaze softens, his lips curling into the smallest smile, and you realize, with a start, that he isn’t nervous at all. he seems sure of whatever it is that lingers in the space between you. quietly confident, like always. “i guess because... i think about you a lot.”

you open your mouth to say something, anything to fill the silence, but before you can find the words, a small voice cuts through the moment like a blade.

“hey!” tuk’s voice, sharp and high, breaks your quiet. you both turn to find her standing at the edge of the rocks, her little face pinched in frustration, her hands on her hips. “i knew it!”

your eyebrows shoot up, startled. “knew what?”

tuk stomps closer, her bare feet padding noisily across the stone. “i knew neteyam would steal you from me!” she jabs a finger in his direction, her small frame shaking with righteous indignation. “you’re my friend, not his!”

the words hit you like a slap, and you glance at neteyam, who looks equally taken aback, his mouth parting in surprise. tuk’s big eyes shimmer with unshed tears, and something in your chest squeezes painfully. you hadn’t even realized how much time you’d been spending with neteyam, how it must have felt to tuk, who had so eagerly claimed you as her own from the start.

neteyam steps forward, hands raised in surrender, his voice gentle. “hey, tuk. no one is stealing anyone.”

but tuk isn’t having it. her little fists clench, and she whirls on you, eyes wide and brimming with hurt. “you promised we’d make more jewelry! and swim with the ilus!” her bottom lip trembles, and she takes a step back, as if the distance will make the ache in your chest less sharp. “you said you were my best friend.”

guilt washes over you like a cold wave, chilling you to the bone. you kneel down, reaching for tuk’s small hand, but the little girl pulls away, hurt radiating off her in waves. “tuk, i did not mean to—”

“you don’t like me anymore.” tuk’s voice is small now, defeated, and your heart breaks at the sight of it, at the raw pain in her eyes. “you like him more.”

the words leave you stunned, speechless. you look to neteyam for help, but he stands frozen, his jaw tight, clearly torn between comforting his sister and letting her work it out. after a long pause, he crouches beside tuk, his voice soft and reassuring.

“that is not true,” he says quietly, his hand resting gently on tuk’s shoulder. “she is still your friend, tuk. i am just... lucky to be friends with her too.”

tuk sniffles, her little fists rubbing at her eyes, and your heart clenches in your chest. “but i found her first,” she mumbles.

you can’t help the soft smile that tugs at your lips at the child’s words, your heart aching in the best way. “you did find me first, tuk,” you say gently, finally managing to reach out and take her hand. tuk lets you this time, her fingers small and warm in your grasp. “and you are still my best friend. nothing is going to change that.”

tuk looks up at you with wide, watery eyes, still unsure. “promise?”

you squeeze her hand, your voice soft. “promise.”

after a moment, tuk’s shoulders relax, and she swipes at her face with the back of her hand. she glances between you and neteyam, her lip still trembling but her anger starting to fade. “okay,” she whispers, “but you have to make me another bracelet first.”

a small laugh escapes you, and you nod, relief settling into your bones. “deal.”

tuk brightens instantly, her smile returning in full force. “and you both have to swim with me tomorrow. no skipping!”

neteyam chuckles, brushing a hand through his braids. “we would not dream of it.”

satisfied, tuk gives a dramatic sigh before turning and running off toward the other children, her earlier tears forgotten. the weight of her outburst still lingers, though, and as you both stand there in the quiet aftermath, you realize just how much tuk’s words have struck something deep inside you. you like him more.

it isn’t true, is it? or maybe... maybe it is. you’re not sure anymore. the thought makes your throat tighten.

neteyam seems to sense the shift in you, his gaze turning serious as he watches you carefully. “you okay?” he asks, his voice soft, a little uncertain.

“i do not know,” you say quietly, your voice barely more than a whisper. “it feels...different.”

neteyam is silent for a long moment, his brows furrowing slightly as he steps closer, his presence a steady, comforting weight at your side. when he finally speaks, his voice is low, careful. “what does?”

you look up at him then, the words heavy on your tongue. “everything. you, me, tuk...”

neteyam's voice is quiet, almost hesitant as he asks, “is it a good different?” his eyes search yours, the question hanging in the air between you. there's an openness to him now, a vulnerability that makes you pause. you see him clearly in this moment—the forest boy with his thin tail, strong but out of place here in your world. his presence is unfamiliar yet comforting, the way his skin contrasts with the sea, the way he stands rooted even on shifting sand. the difference is undeniable, but it's not unsettling. it feels like something new, something good.

you meet his gaze, and in that instant, everything falls into place. his eyes, a deep shade that reminds you of the forest he came from, hold a quiet kind of warmth, like the steady burn of a fire. you're different, yes—he, with the wilderness in his bones, and you, with the sea in yours—but that contrast feels like a harmony rather than a divide. with a small nod, you let the truth settle between you, firm and certain. “yeah,” you murmur, a soft smile pulling at your lips. “it is.”

i'll proof read this when i get back home i have to go out now 😭

[another-lost-mc]

Thinking about his demon form horns.

Barbatos x gn!Reader

NSFW // Content: Fluff and kissing, slightly suggestive at the end. 0.6k words.

You’re fascinated by the winged horns that sprout between dark green hair when Barbatos shifts into his demon form. You’re intrigued. They look so pretty and delicate, but non-functional—or so you think.

When you get to know Barbatos better, it’s easier to read the emotions he masks with bland smiles that don’t reach the sharp glint in his eyes. Sometimes it looks like his horns twitch as the bony ends curl ever so slightly as his eyes flash with disapproval or annoyance. No one else seems to notice them but you. If he catches you staring, you shake your head and look away. He doesn’t talk about them, and you don’t ask about them either.

Maybe you were just seeing things?

Over time, you’re convinced that his little horns do move on their own at times. Your theory is proven the first time he kisses you, and you learn they can do more than twitch. He’s wearing his RAD uniform, his horns and tail nowhere to be seen. His eyes dart down to your lips as his face draws closer. His lips are a little dry, but they’re still soft and so warm when they touch yours. A small whimper escapes you, and he hums in response.

It only takes a few moments for you to notice a noise that you don’t recognize. It's just loud enough to hear over the sound of your heart beating wildly in your chest and the slick sounds of his lips gliding against yours. His gloved fingers dig into your waist to keep you from moving away when you reluctantly break the kiss and look around curiously. Your eyes widen when you realize the little wings sprouted from the crown of his head are fluttering.

A pink blush dusts his cheeks because he knows what you’re staring at; surely you must understand the significance of that little quirk of his by now.

Later on, he'll think about the implications that he was so distracted by you that he shifted forms without realizing it—have you always affected him this much? 

You suspect he’s embarrassed that he can’t seem to control their actions, but your heart beats a little faster for him too—he's so precious. You slide your hands into his hair—gently, to avoid touching the base of his horns because you know he doesn’t like that—and you curl your fingers along the back of his scalp.

There’s a soft rumble in his chest and he leans forward, kissing you more passionately than before. His tongue teases the seam of your lips, begging silently for entrance. He deepens the kiss, his tongue plundering your mouth and seeking out your exquisite taste. His little wings continue to flutter excitedly—they disperse the delicate scent of his shampoo into the air.

It feels like he unknowingly shared an intimate secret with you. You seem to like his little oddities, and even though he still finds them annoying at times, he learns to appreciate them more because you do.

If you notice his horns twitch slightly as his voice grows sharp with disapproval, you know he’s desperately trying to contain anger or frustration he normally conceals from the world—you make a note to talk to him about it later in the privacy of his bedroom.

They still flutter sometimes when you have sweet moments with him too: eating lunch together during a rare break from his duties; when you dance together at one of Diavolo’s parties, the overwhelming fondness in his gaze making his eyes shimmer like molten emeralds; or when he slides down the bed and pries your legs apart, eyes darker now with desire when he flicks out his tongue to taste you.

He hides his devilish smile when your fingers slide into his hair. You’re still careful not to disturb the base of his delicate horns—the ones tickling you as they flutter wildly between your thighs.

Read more: Barbatos Masterlist | Obey Me Masterlist

[gloomwitchwrites]

Tattoo Artist Simon "Ghost" Riley x Female Reader

Chapter Specific Warnings: swearing, trauma, therapy, unprotected piv, oral sex (female receiving)

Word Count: 4k

A/N: Part Twenty-Eight of Ink & Needle

The aftermath of Kit’s actions influences your daily life. You proposition Simon with the hope of moving forward.

Chapter Twenty-Seven // Chapter Twenty-Nine

ao3 // main masterlist // ink & needle masterlist

Three Months Later

Healing isn’t linear. It is not kind or forgiving. The strangeness of therapy is how it resembles a spiderweb, beautiful at a glance but a lie. There is nothing beautiful in facing what you wish to leave behind. Sticky and lethal and pure carnage rehashed over and over again until talking it out becomes a numbing dullness.

Hope therapy goes well today. Love you.

Evie’s text stares up at you from the phone screen. She’s been a good friend through all of this, giving you space yet standing by your side. How the roles have reversed, become opposite from where it all started.

Bravo’s wet nose pushes into your palm, forcing your attention away from the phone screen.

“Hello, Bravo,” you croon softly, scratching the underside of his chin. “You good boy. Best boy!” His tail whips around in a circle, kicking up a breeze.

Simon’s dog has attended every therapy session with you. At first, you thought is strange that Simon insisted on it, but now you can’t imagine not having the German Shepherd there. Nearly all of your appointments occur during 141 Ink’s business hours. Simon cannot join you in person, but he can send a piece of himself along.

“Where’s your dad?” you tease. “Do you see him?”

Bravo stretches his neck, glancing around for Simon. It lasts only a moment. He is clearly far more interested in the attention you’re giving him.

“He is right here.”

Simon’s voice wraps around like a warm hug. You went without it for so long that now it’s a treat every time you hear him speak.

Bravo pivots out of your touch, taking a step forward to situate himself between you and Simon.

Simon’s eyebrows rise slightly as he crosses his arms over his chest. The body language stands in stark contrast to his massive grin. “Protecting her, are you? Even from me?” Bravo half-whines, half-barks. Simon chuckles. “That’s my boy.”

He gives Bravo a quick pat on the head before stepping around the dog. You immediately lean into Simon, one hand pressing into his chest as he cups the side of your neck, his thumb resting on the front of your throat. There is a protective, nearly primal quality to the way Simon’s features shift as his attention turns to you

“Am I late?” he asks.

You shake your head. “No.” Presenting your mouth, Simon descends slowly, meeting you with a serenely sensual kiss.

All the quiet, simmering anxiety that sits in the back of your mind melts away like a last snow, leaving behind a plethora of green grass that reaches for the sun. Simon is your beacon in the dark, the candle flame that lights your way.

One kiss is not enough. You need a second. A third.

The old flame of desire snakes upward, slithering between your bones to settle in your chest. It is asking for the thing you’ve denied yourself the last three months—an intimacy you had with Simon before everything happened.

A fourth kiss. A fifth. Desire tightens its languid body, constricting until your breath catches.

“Get a room!”

The voice of a passing stranger breaks the enchantment, the building desire retreating to hide amongst brown leaves and sticks.

Your cheeks grow hot just as a scowl appears on Simon’s face. Shoulder’s straightening, Simon is gearing to tell the interloper off, but you grab at Simon’s hand the second he begins to turn. A light tug is all it takes. Just your touch, and Simon’s scowl recedes to a soft smile that he only ever gives to you.

With a quick shrug of his shoulders, Simon clears his throat and takes Bravo’s offered leash, wrapping it around his tattooed knuckles. He places his hand low on your back, ushering you toward his parked car.

“How was therapy?”

Simon asks every time—a loaded question.

You exhale through your nostrils, briefly glancing away from him because telling the truth is fucking hard, especially when it involves him. You settle on a half-lie.

“Fine,” you reply. “Productive.”

Fine? Yes. Productive? No.

Simon’s head tilts slightly, gaze assessing like he doesn’t entirely believe you. “Up for company today?”

This you can appreciate it. Simon may always ask how therapy went but he never pushes further than you’re willing to give.

“Not really,” you answer, this time truthfully.

Evie’s unanswered text is as much a reminder as Simon’s questions. Things are different now. Normal cannot be what it once was. There are fractures you hold in your heart, memories that you wish you could erase with a quick snap of the fingers.

Simon nods, apparently content with your answer. “Then we’ll go home.”

It’s a short walk to the car, but you savor every second, leaning against Simon with each step. He talks your ear off about nothing, filling the air with what he did at the shop today, and the customers he had even as he helps you into the car.

It’s a lovely distraction. Which is why Simon is doing it at all. He knows. He understands. Simon is not a chatty person, he’s usually blunt with his words, more to the point than anything else. He prefers fewer words than long-winded nothings, and him keeping you distracted like this goes against everything he’s comfortable with.

But Simon doesn’t know what you talk about in those sessions with the therapist, and you refuse to share it with him. He also doesn’t ask, and for that, you’re fucking grateful. You’re still coming to terms with it yourself, shuffling through the two and a half months you were gone.

Sometimes, you think things would be easier if Kit had just hurt you. That’s the expected thing, to be mutilated in unforgiveable ways. You think about his choices often, what was going through his head, and why he never raised a single hand to you. The silence you received instead is almost worse somehow. Kit refused to speak with you, and the only other person who saw was the man that brought you your meal. He refused to say anything to you—refused to even glance in your direction. It wasn’t until the coffin that you heard the first human voice other than your own in two months.

And the voice was Simon’s. Not Kit’s. Simon’s.

Today, you talked about the coffin.

Not that you actually remember it. You only saw it after you were released from the hospital. Simon took you to some military base because Captain Price thought that seeing it in person might trigger a memory. He was firmly against it, insisted that you didn’t have to do this, but you pushed back, wanting to see what that monster put you in. Simon backed down, but setting your gaze on the thing that you nearly died in turned your limbs to stone and your mind to smeared jelly.

Simon was fucking furious. You’ve seen him upset—and you thought you knew what anger looked like on him. How wrong you were. Kyle stepped in and escorted you out of the room. You might have been on the other side of the wall but it only damped the screaming match that happened. Their words were heated, the exchange loud, and though you didn’t catch all of it, you picked up pieces.

Don’t involve her again.

This is my price to pay.

She’s suffered enough.

Kyle, while leaning against the wall next to you and fidgeting with his watch, had given you a solemn smile, an attempt to reassure but only left you feeling hollow.

“Don’t fret over it,” he had said. “Simon loves you is all. Price knows that.”

“They’re screaming at each other,” you murmured.

Kyle shrugged, the smile becoming more sincere and genuine. “Price will hug him after he’s done yelling. Simon will grunt.” He winked. “All good, love. Promise.”

Simon never brought you to another military base or anything to do with what happened again. If anyone reached out to him to insist, you never heard about it.

But of what you do remember, it’s of what happened before the coffin, how Kit smiled when he brought you your meal. You didn’t know it was drugged then. He hid it well, disguising the taste and texture. You should have known something was wrong when Kit sat on the floor across from you and watched you gobble up every bite. But you had been hungry, and having another person near felt so comforting in the moment.

“Movie sound good?”

You inhale sharply, turning toward Simon’s voice. He’s standing next to you, passenger door open, the middle of the brow creased with concern by your reaction. The two of you are already home.

“I’m sorry,” you murmur. “What did you ask?”

The corners of his lips turn downward. You’ve slipped off again—left reality for a bit.

“A movie,” repeats Simon. “After dinner. Thought we could stay in tonight.”

Bravo shoves his face between the front passenger seat and the interior of the car. His dark eyes dart between the two of you, impatience clear in the way his tail thump thump thumps against the backseat.

“Great,” you reply, slipping out of the car.

Simon’s gaze remains impassive, but he doesn’t say anything. Instead, he takes your hand, Bravo trotting along behind the two of you.

Inside, Simon takes your coat, hanging it up next to his before heading into the kitchen to start the kettle. It’s April now, but the weather is still chilly on occasion, and you could go for a tea.

“The new visa should arrive soon,” says Simon, flipping the tap on the electric kettle. “Price made a few calls.” Grabbing two mugs from the cupboard, he sets them down on the counter before turning around to face you. “Could get you a different one. A longer stay.” He pauses, a hopefulness twinkling in his eye. “Citizenship even.”

With everything that’s happened, Simon still wants you here, with him. Hands clasped in front of you, you meander into the kitchen, almost sauntering in the way you approach him. Simon’s eyelids grow heavy, that earlier desire forming in his gaze. The two of you have touched and kissed, but the few times any further intimacy has been initiated, it’s been by Simon. You weren’t committed then, still confused and dripping with a sense of being unclean.

When you’re ready. No rush.

Respect for you outweighs his desire. Simon made you aware in other ways—subtle glances and touches, gentle compliments—but never pushed, never made you feel like sex is an expectation. He handed you the ball and bat with the only request that you swing when ready.

“Is that what you want, Simon? For me to stay?”

As you draw closer, Simon’s hands instinctually reach out to you. You do not shy away but step into his embrace. Those large, tattooed hands of his clutch your waist, pulling you closer until you’re nearly flush against him.

“There are few things I want more.”

“Only a few?” you tease, and you’re greeted with a warm smile.

“Nothing, then.”

The kettle starts to boil, but Simon ignores his, all of his attention focused on you.

“I don’t want to watch a movie. Think I’d like to do something else.”

Simon shrugs. “Course, love. Whatever you want.” He shifts slightly to plop a teabag into each mug and then carefully pours the water over the top. “We can watch the next episode of that show—”

“No,” you interject, and Simon sets the kettle down. “I mean—” You lick your lips, unsure of how you want to approach this. “I want to…try.”

Simon blinks. “Try,” he says slowly. “Try…what?”

It takes every ounce of control to not laugh at Simon’s confusion. Placing your hand on his chest, you slide it lower, and lower still until the confusion on his face melts away and realization dawns. Without breaking eye contact, Simon grasps your wrist and draws your hand away as it falls dangerously close to brushing against his groin.

“Only if you’re ready,” he murmurs, though you hear the hunger. “Don’t do it on my account.”

“I miss you.”

“I’m right here, love.”

As you press into him, Simon’s resolve splinters. Your face is upturned, lips slightly parted in offer, and Simon’s mouth is just shy of connection. You breathe him in just as he does you. There is nothing you want more, to be consumed by him, to reconnect in the one way you’ve been without.

Simon lightly grasps the bottom-half of your face. “After dinner,” he says, and the curling need pooling low in your belly squirms with discontent.

“Now,” you breathe, a demand.

Simon’s eyelids flutter. Close. He takes a deep, steadying breath before opening them again. “If I sink inside you right now, I won’t last.”

The admission only enflames the already burning embers. You desperately need to cross this hurdle, to find this intimacy with Simon again. With one hand free, you gently cup him through his jeans, rubbing, finding him hard and wanton.

Simon growls, and then you’re being lifted. He shoves everything out of the way, hot water spilling into the sink and onto the floor. The tea is forgotten, the bags briefly floating in the sink before the water disappears down the drain.

“I’m not taking you like this,” says Simon, forehead pressing against yours. “We’re having tea. Dinner. And only after will I indulge you.”

“Think the tea is ruined, Simon.”

“Fucking hell,” he mutters, closing the distance to seize you in a fierce kiss.

Everything about it is honey-drenched. Sticky. Slightly sweet. You open for him, and he goes for a taste, his hand on your throat like a collar. This is the passion you remember; the wanton need you crave.

It is not gone. Only buried.

As your hands roam, the kissing only becomes more desperate. Your thighs trap his waist, but he makes no move to retreat. Not like you could stop him. He’s far stronger than you, and even in that strength he’s aware of it, not grasping too tightly.

Fingers delve, and in seconds you have the front of Simon’s jeans open, slipping your hand inside to find his warmth. As your fingers brush his skin, Simon breaks the kiss, nearly choking on his next breath as he draws back.

“Dinner first,” he groans, grabbing your wrist and forcing your hand from his pants. “Food first.”

“You’re a tease, Simon Riley,” you whimper.

He chuckles, low and knowing. “Like making you squirm.”

Dinner is a much longer affair than you’d like, as if Simon has an eternity to feed you. Every time you try to help, he shoos you off, telling you to relax and enjoy your cuppa. You eventually give up, curling up with Bravo on the sofa watching reality television as Simon putters about.

When he finally hands you your plate, you scarf it down in record time, promptly setting it aside to stare at Simon longingly.

“After,” he repeats.

“Buzzkill.”

Simon reaches over and squeezes your thigh, returning to his meal, gaze locked on the television. You try to refocus, but your mind is locked on a singular goal like you’re a man thinking with his dick and not his brain.

With a final scrape of his fork across his plate, Simon clears it, sighing with contentment. Reaching for your plate, he starts cleaning up, still insisting that you don’t move from the couch at all. This time, you don’t put up a fight, deciding it is better to snuggle with Bravo.

“Bed, Bravo,” snaps Simon. The German Shepherd grumbles as he lifts his head from your lap and dramatically slides off the couch. “To think you used to sniff out bombs,” mutters Simon, shaking his head. “Off with you.”

Bravo disappears down the hall, and then Simon is turning to you, holding out a hand in offering. “Come here to me.”

The delivery in his voice leaves no room for denial. Pushing off from the couch and reaching for his hand is easy. You want this—need this.

Simon’s arms go around you, holding you close. That soft smile returns and you answer it with one of your own.

“Still want to do this?”

“I’m sure.”

Simon’s thumb lightly grazes the line of your jaw. “Tell me if you want to stop. Promise me.”

“Promise,” you murmur.

“That’s my girl.”

With your hand in his, Simon walks backward into the bedroom. He pulls you in as he shuts the door, teasing a kiss but not giving it to you. You try to steal one anyway, but Simon knows you too well, leaning away at the last second as he slips his hand from yours.

There is no mask. No anymore. Haven’t seen it at all unless he’s at the shop, working. His sweatshirt goes, followed by his shirt, leaving him bare from the waist up. Even in the dark with a just a hint of moonlight, you can glimpse him.

Corded muscle. Endless tattoos.

Your hands copy his movements, removing an article of clothing one at a time. All this time you’ve been rushing, and now that you’re here, the undressing is slow. Languid. Simon is done before you, and even in the dark you notice the way his hands clench and unclench with the anticipation of touching you.

You barely have your socks and pants off before Simon is grasping for you, hands groping ass and hip, mouth coming down on yours with desperation. In this, you feel utterly wanted, as if there is nothing he requires more than to be one with you.

Simon’s erection presses into your lower stomach, an insistent thing that both of you ignore. His kisses are your favorite, you want them forever, and that is all you can focus on even as your grow slicker between the thighs.

You drape your arms over his shoulders and then connect them behind his neck, clinging like he’ll disappear if you don’t. Simon’s hands slide over your back and down to your ass, filling his hands as squeezing. Angling your hips up a bit, he rubs himself against you, a low groan leaving him as the base of his erection brushes the side of your clit.

Forget slow. Forget the fact that Simon admitted he wouldn’t last.

Unlocking your arms from around his neck, you reach back and grab one of Simon’s groping hands. Bringing it between your bodies, you guide his fingers to your pussy, desperately needing him to touch you. His thick fingers slide easily over your sex, your arousal apparent.

You shiver from the contact, but Simon? Simon growls, low and feral, and utterly primal. Flattening three fingers against your sex, Simon parts you, the middle finger teasing your entrance with a soft caress. It hovers, and then starts to slide in.

Simon’s lips move away from your mouth and to your chin, then to your jaw, and then your throat. More of his finger enters.

“I missed you,” you whimper as he settles to the knuckle. Simon’s teeth graze your neck as his finger begins to slide back out. “Every. Day.”

Simon adds a second finger, pumping both in perfect rhythm. “I’m here now, love. Right here. Not going anywhere.”

“Oh, fuck,” you gasp as Simon’s palm rubs against your clit. “I—love—”

“Love, what?” coaxes Simon.

“You. I love you.”

Simon’s teeth no longer graze but they don’t bite down. They trace a line up your throat before taking a nip at your bottom lip. His fingers begin to retreat again but you grasp the back of his hand, pressing, urging him back inside.

“Don’t be gentle with me,” you murmur, rocking your hips, fucking yourself on his fingers. “Fuck me the way you want to. Please.”

Simon’s head tilts to the side. “You sure about that, love?”

You whimper, nodding, pussy clenching around his fingers as his palm lightly rubs against your clit again. It’s lovely—slowly building that orgasm you so desperately crave. But then Simon’s fingers are gone and in his mouth, sucking them clean.

Your brain short circuits, unable to comprehend the change until Simon is guiding you onto all fours on the bed. He places a hand on your upper back, urging your front into the mattress as your ass stays up in the air. Guiding your legs apart, you expect him to settle between, to mount you and rut.

His mouth finds you instead, tongue parting your pussy from clit to opening then back again. You press back against his mouth and Simon makes a feast of you. The orgasm is a slap in the face. It doesn’t arrive slowly but as a thunderous force, nearly smashing you over the head with its intensity.

Thighs quiver. Legs shake. You cry out so loud you think Simon might stop. He doesn’t. He only continues through the ordeal, urging toward another and yet another until there are tears in your eyes. Only then does he draw back, wettened lips kissing the backs of your thighs and the curve of your ass.

His strong hands rub up and down the length of your back. Soothing and comforting at first, but then demanding, helping you turn until you’re facing him. Limbs like jelly, you allow Simon to draw you into his lap, to ease your legs to fall on either side of him, to help guide you to and then onto his cock.

“Want me to stop?” he asks, voice gruff.

You vehemently shake your head. “No. Want you. Always.”

With a final effort, Simon rocks his hips up just as he presses down on your hips. Every inch is inside of you, stretching, filling. You’re full of him, but it’s not enough. You need him to move.

“Simon,” you beg.

Shifting his arms, he supports you with his hands and forearms as well as his thighs. It forces your legs up and open, ankles and feet dangling. A slice of moonlight cuts through the room, highlighting the space where your bodies meet. With your forehead resting against his cheek, you watch as Simon guides you up and down his length, disappearing and then reappearing with a shine.

Keeping one arm hooked behind his neck, you reach between your bodies, fingers finding your clit. You create a v with index and middle finger, parting your pussy to open you up more, to capture the place where Simon’s cock penetrates you.

He’s hardly keeping it together as you tease the base of his cock with a fingernail Simon’s whimper instinctually has your pussy tightening around him.

“I want you to come inside me,” you whisper, breath brushing over his cheek. Simon’s hands tighten, fingers digging into your flesh as he ceases sliding and starts thrusting. “Please,” you add with a hint of longing.

He cannot say no. Simon never does.

In seconds, Simon has you on your back, flattening you against the bed. With one hand above your head, fisting the sheets, he rests the other on the inner thigh of your left leg, holding it wide and open for a better angle.

Simon’s first thrust is brutal. He buries his face against your neck, and doesn’t fucking stop. Every time your bodies connect, he grunts loudly. The muscles in his back bulge beneath your palms.

This is not healing. This is carnage. This is a burial.

Simon is digging your grave but not to leave you to rot. You are to be wholly submerged, wholly undone in the dark, to be thread unspooled. You will linger in this grave, in Simon’s arm, to know only of him. And then, only then, will you be unearthed from the dirt.

In the morning, with the light, there will be a calmness that smothers all. A closing of a door that will never be reopened. There is no definition in past, only a resounding future, and you must take it—seek it.

“I love you,” groans Simon.

His words are what does it, that breaks the flood, and shows you the way forward.

“You’re mine.”

These words are not a groan, more a plea. You’re mine because he wants it so, and all you need to do is agree.

Mine.

Mine.

“Love you.”

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[mokokone]

Hello!

Can you do a Kusuriuri x Kitsune! Fem! Reader. Where the reader loves to tease him and prank him.

Thank you <3 ❤️

Author's preface: Kitsunes are known for their mischievous nature and love of playing tricks on humans. These mythical creatures have the ability to shape-shift into different forms, often using their powers to deceive unsuspecting individuals. Despite their playful antics, kitsunes are also seen as wise and intelligent beings in Japanese folklore. Their cunning ways make them both feared and respected in traditional stories and legends.

Trickster |Medicine Seller/Kusuriuri x FemKitsune!Resder|

Kusuriuri stood, pondering for a moment. His piercing cerulean gaze scanned the room, taking in every detail.

Something was amiss.

His Taima Ken Exorcism Sword was missing. He could have sworn he left it sitting on the coffee table.

Surely, the small blade couldn't have flown away. Every corner and crevice was scrutinized, but the sword was nowhere to be found. Kusuriuri's mind raced with questions—who could have taken it? And for what nefarious purpose?

"(Y/n)!" He suddenly called.

 After a moment, a young female poked her head through the shoji. Her hair was a beautiful color of (h/c), falling in loose waves around her shoulders. Her eyes, a vibrant shade of (e/c), sparkled with curiosity. However, the most unique thing about her appearance was that she had fox ears and a bushy fox tail.

Her fox ears twitched slightly as she looked at her master with a sense of curiosity.

"Yes, what is it, master?" You asked.

"Have you seen my sword?" Kusuriuri asked you as you stepped into the room, watching his eyes scan the space in search of the missing weapon.

"No... Why?" you inquired, feigning innocence as you tried to suppress a mischievous grin.

In truth, you knew exactly where it was. After all, you were the one who hid it, as well as a few other items of his.

Though you didn't really have a good reason for doing so, you were just bored and thought it'd be funny to see how long it would take him to notice.

As you watched him search, you couldn't help but feel a twinge of guilt for playing this prank on him.

"Hmm, I can’t find it.” He tossed the pillow he had been looking under back down on the sofa. "I'm also missing several of my ofuda as well as some incense from my medicine box." He adds.

“Really? How strange..." You say, hiding a smirk. "Well, I'm sure it'll turn up soon, master.” you tell him before turning on your geta to leave.

“Hopefully...” You hear him murmur, unaware that he had watched you leave.

“Where? Where is it?”

Later that evening, you heard your master sigh in frustration. There was no doubt he was starting to lose his patience.

You poke your head in the doorway again. “What is it now?” You wondered which item he was looking for now.

But, you knew.

Not long after you hid his sword, you also took and hidden his Shunga (Japanese erotic art) picture book.

“Now, I can't find my Shunga magazine,” he answered.

You couldn't help but grimace. “Why do you even look at such gross things, master?” You scoffed, "It's just a book filled with gross images of women having intercourse with gross men."

Kusuriuri snorts. “Ha, I find it quite entertaining.”

*'You ought to be glad I didn't burn it instead of hiding it, you pervert,'* you inwardly thought to yourself before giving a smile.

“You've been misplacing a lot of your stuff lately, master," you teased. "I never thought you'd be so irresponsible with your things."

"I am not, my dear," he protested. "I am very responsible. I need my sword and ofuda to fight against malevolent mononoke. I would never be so careless as to lose such important items," He huffs.

"It’s like my stuff is just...disappearing. Almost as if someone has taken them." He adds.

You almost felt a shiver run down your spine when he catches your gaze and could only hope he didn't know. Nevertheless, you shook it off and opted to tease him some more.

"Aww, poor master," you fake-sympathize, a mischievous glint in your eye as you watch him sulk his shoulders. "Perhaps your things have had enough of you and just ran away," you snicker.

"Haha, very funny," he chides. "Look, if you're not going to help, then leave."

"Rude!" You stuck your tongue out at him before leaving.

You failed to notice the angry red mark on Kusuriuri's head as blue eyes eyed you both skeptically and intently.

You hurried down the engawa to hide it in the garden under a rock. However, before you could, you yelped upon feeling a hand grab your tail.

That night, you decided to keep the prank going. Once you made sure Kusuriuri was out of sight, you snuck into his room and opened his medicine box. This time you were going to take and hide one of his Kenshutsu (scales).

“Where are you off to, (Y/n)?” Kusuriuri asked.

You sweated nervously, attempting to hide the kenshutsu inside your kimono before turning to face him.

“Um... n-nowhere, master,” You stammered.

Kusuriuri eyed you suspiciously. "Was that one of my kenshutsu?" He asked. "And were you about to hide it in the garden?"

“W-what? N-no way…” You lied, giving him an innocent look.

However, Kusuriuri saw through your lie. After all, he too knows how feels to be a sly fox.

"So, it was you all along," he said, his tone accusatory.

Welp, now that you’very been caught red-handed, you’re toast! It was fun while it lasted. You didn’t even try to plead your innocence; you just grinned warily at him with a nervous chuckle.

“You little minx,” He quickly pulled you forward, making you shriek as he then grabbed your sides.

“K-Kusuriuri─I mean, Master, wait!! No, please, I can explain!” You cry out.

Kusuriuri was merciless as he started tickling you, his fingers digging into your sides, making you squeal.

"This is what you get for hiding my stuff." He smiled menacingly.

You doubled over, trying desperately to get away from him. “Ahhhaaahaa, I'm sorry! P-please, have mercy! Hahahahaha~!”

“Tell me where you put everything and I'll let up," he demanded.

“Ack! I’m sorry!”

"Sorry doesn't tell me where you hid my things,” Kusuriuri said, now switching to tickling you under your arms.

With that, you completely lost it! It was painful as you squealed and tried to push him away. You're the one who got yourself into this mess, so you had no choice but to come clean.

“Fine!! Your sword is in the kitchen cabinet, and your Shunga magazine is inside the hallow of the cherry blossom tree outside." You confessed, desperate for your torture to cease.

“And?” He prompted, tickling your tummy.

Your laughter was so loud and desperate now that tears were beginning to leak from your eyes. "A-and I promise not to take your stuff without permission. I-I...AHaha... I'm sorry! I was just bored!”

Kusuriuri's expression soften. He was pleased that you finally came clean as he finally stopped tickling you, much to your absolute relief. But he still opted to tease you.

“Good girl."

Bastard.

Your face was flushed from laughing in pain as you glared daggers at him.

"I'll forgive you this time, but no more pranks, ok?"

You crossed your arms and stuck out your tongue at him. “You suck, master.”

He merely shrugged his shoulders as he walked off to retrieve his stuff. “Not my fault. You deserved it,” he said, but then stopped and glanced back at you.

"Y'know, if you ever get bored again, feel free to come to me. I'm always up for some fun.♡" He smirks devilishly while winking at you.

It took you awhile, but you quickly caught on of what it is he's implying as your face flushed red.

᪥END᪥

[star-going-supernova]

Here’s a SB prompt for ya!

Gregory realistically couldn’t have lasted the entire game without getting hurt. He got bruises from being slammed into things, his limbs aches for days cause he pushed himself too hard, and you can’t tell me any scrapes from Monty or Roxy didn’t scar.

Gregory would 100% use jokes and quips to deal with all the memories from that night whenever it gets brought up. Freddy who’s programming is insistent on lightening the mood and is joke based hates when he does it with a burning passion.

I’m still not done with the mini ficlets, lol. I went with immediate aftermath instead of further down the line.

Just a Scratch

The shift from night mode to day mode as, somewhere, a clock finally struck six was the best thing Gregory had seen all night. Lights began to turn on, STAFF bots disappeared by the dozen, and the stupid music cut out, leaving a ringing silence in its wake. 

Just visible from his hiding place, he watched Chica twitch a bit, then zombie walk away toward her room down the long hall of Rockstar Row. Mere minutes later, Monty and Roxy followed, none seemingly aware of their surroundings. They all vanished into their rooms without a peep. 

Still tense and on guard, Gregory unfolded himself from the tight corner behind the trash can he’d been tucked behind. There was no movement from the green rooms; from where he was crouched, he could see that Roxy’s was empty. Recharging in their back hallways, maybe? 

Guests would start arriving in a few hours, after all, and the show must go on.

Limping down the hall, he raised his watch and pressed the button to talk. “Freddy? You still with me?” 

“I am still here, superstar,” Freddy said, and he sounded so relieved. “I believe it is over. The barricade over the doors has risen. You are safe now.” 

Safe. It’d only been one night, but it felt like such a foreign concept. How could the pizzaplex ever feel safe again, no matter what time of day it was? 

Six hours. Not even counting that first hour before the barricade went down. Longest six hours of his life.

He was starting to feel a little woozy and unsteady on his feet by the time he and Freddy found each other. Freddy gasped at the sight of him, and the sound reflexively made him look around wildly, expecting an attack. But the quiet halls were empty but for the two of them. 

“Gregory,” Freddy said urgently. “You are far more injured than I thought! We must get you medical care immediately.” 

Gregory blinked uncomprehendingly for a moment before looking down at himself and taking stock of his body for the first time in hours. He’d kinda had other, more important things on his mind, y’know?

The first thing he noticed were the bruises. He’d hit the deck more than once, either on purpose or from tripping, and his knees reflected that. They were dark and discolored. Lower, on his left leg, a trio of long gashes slashed diagonally down the front and curved around the back. They started to sting fiercely now that he’d noticed them. Monty had grabbed him there once, he remembered faintly. 

It was all a bit of a blur, to be honest. 

The sides of his upper arms and shoulders ached too, and he thought of how many times he’d taken a corner too fast, one animatronic or another hot on his tail, and the way he’d slammed into the walls before continuing on. On his back, the burn of another couple of cuts flared up; Chica had taken him by surprise at least twice. 

Shallow puncture wounds lined the top of his lower left arm from when he’d blocked Roxy’s teeth somewhere around 2 a.m. And both his right wrist and ankle throbbed with the pain of a sprain, probably from the one time the security guard had managed to grab him and yank him around and a fumbled jump down some stairs respectively. 

A full body ache buzzed through him, too—the result of running and lifting and pulling and pushing far too much, far beyond what his ten-year-old body was used to.

And his vision was admittedly a little blurry. A headache had started after the third time he’d had his head smacked into the floor by a pouncing Moon, so maybe he had a concussion on top of all the rest. 

The room was starting to spin, and Freddy was looking mightily concerned, which wasn’t an expression Gregory would have thought a robot capable of. Thoughts all tangled up around each other, he was suddenly desperate to reassure his protector that he was okay, honest, and they would look back on this night someday and laugh. 

He giggled now, tipped alarmingly to the side, and in a concussed attempt to alleviate Freddy’s worry and lighten the mood, Gregory enthusiastically declared, “Tis but a scratch!” 

Freddy made a noise of appalled disbelief, but if he said anything in response, Gregory didn’t hear it. He was too busy collapsing on the spot, thoroughly unconscious.

[mischiefmaker615]

Purrfect

Rating: PG-14

Summary: There was something very strange and familiar with the cat you decided to take in..

Requested by: @Laer111ee

‘’I swear- every time I’m here, that cat is always starring at you..its kinda creepy’’

Your best friend turns your attention over to the couch where the black cat perched in an almost to-proper position with its striking and.. intense green eyes looking into your soul. Its tail flicked ever so slightly and even with the door open to your apartment where you both stood, he didn’t make a single move to dash out. Looking back at your friend, you merely shook your head with a light laugh and a wave of the hand.

‘’you mean every time as in aka, a week? He probably needs more time to adjust or something, he might be to scared to move much.’’

‘’well in any case, perhaps he would be a good source of comfort since ..what happened today..’’ her light demeanor changed back to concern as she grasped your hand. ‘’are you sure you don’t want me spending the night?.. I hate leaving you feeling like this.’’

You shook your head with your face doing a good job at hiding your held-back emotional state. ‘’I’ll be fine, really. My boss is just being an asshole, nothing new.’’

‘’yeah but.. he can’t possibly think you can do all that stuff by yourself.. not without going crazy with stress and-‘’

‘’I can handle it, promise’’ you reassured her, masking your irritation of the topic as she sighed and nodded, taking a step back with a small wave.

‘’okay.. I’ll see you next week then Y/N, take care of yourself..’’ she smiled before you finally closed the door.

Taking a deep breath, you rested your forehead on the door with your eyes closed, trying to keep your mind from going there; but it did. The tears began to fall as you thought of the turn of events that unfolded in such a short amount of time, you never really got a chance to process it until now. Avoiding the situation entirely was easy.. but not when your alone with your mind.

Your boss lost a lot of employees already from various reasons, so not only do you have to cover all of their shifts and work, but he decides to degrade you for not getting things done fast enough or well enough.. quit? With what other job? bills are a thing in this world and this world is an expensive place. You could handle the work if you really push yourself.. hard.. but the way he humiliated and treated you was your tipping point. It was good money though.. but at what cost now.. your mental state.

You punched at the door, pretending it was him before turning your back on it and heading to your room. Not even bothering to plop on the bed, you sat on the ground against it with your knees to your chest, burying your face as you cried.

‘’why do you cry love?”

The low, silky voice came out of no where, causing you to look up to find its source and got pierced with a familiar gaze. A man with pale skin, raven black hair and an attire containing a mix of green, black and gold gazed upon you with a concerned look on his face. His striking blue eyes dared you to lie at him and something from the stare alone seemed.. recognizable somehow.

How the hell did he get in, you didn’t know. Who the hell he was, you couldn’t tell yourself either- no matter how familiar he seemed to be. Most of these questions didn’t bother to leave your lips as they parted with silence. For some reason, you felt no danger from the strange man before you- perhaps you were trying to process his question rather than wonder why he didn’t threaten you for money or whatever.

‘’why do i.. what?’’ you stutter out, already feeling like an idiot as your fingers gripped the carpet beside you, trying to shy away from him.

‘’you weep with deep emotion darling and you seem to be in fine health so my only conclusion would be that someone out there had to have hurt you. At least, from what I pieced together from what your friend was saying.’’ He explained, his voice gentle as his eyes never left yours as he remained in his crouched position before you.

‘’my.. friend?- how could you possibly know- why do you even-‘’

‘’care?’’ he finished your sentence with a smirk and sighed as he seemed to study your features, his eyes slipping down below your neck once or twice before flicking up to your orbs again. ‘’because in my low moment about a week ago up to now, you’ve shown me kindness. Its only right if I show you the same.’’

You blinked at him as you tried to understand what he was saying. You.. helped him for a week? He over heard your friend.. that gaze looked to damn familiar- no.. he couldn’t possibly.. but his smirk seemed to show that he understood what you were thinking. ‘’your-‘’

‘’I believe you’ve called me by the name of ‘cat’, but if you wish a proper name, Loki will do just fine.’’

‘’Loki..’’ you breathed as you slowly raised a hand and wiped your cheeks, almost embarrassed at how you presented yourself while your mind tried to process that he was the very creature that you had been caring for for about a week. At least you had that much time to process since it was clear that this.. rather attractive man was not here to harm you- he probably already would have if that was his intention. ‘’being shown kindness honestly won’t help right now unless you plan on killing my boss.’’ You say with mild sarcasm but your body tensed when Loki nodded.

‘’that shouldn’t be a problem-‘’

‘’no!- I mean.. that won’t be necessary.. even if that bastard deserves a little pain..’’ you sigh and look away from him.

‘’what may I be able to do then love?’’ he said gently, a hand slowly moving to your chin to turn your face to look at him again, movements slow as to not spook you.

Gods his eyes were gorgeous.. ‘’nothing unless you know of a way to help me forget..’’ you sigh, your eyes threaten to tear up over the sensitive topic you tried so hard to ignore before your body froze.

His lips were soft as they suddenly and very gently pressed against yours. His hand remained on your chin while the other supported himself as he leaned forward against your knees that prevented him from getting closer, so he worked with what he could get at. The sudden action made your mind blank, focusing on only feeling as your eyes slowly closed and told yourself this had to be a dream. An emotional overload that left you exhausted and dreaming realistic scenes that couldn’t take place in real life.. which is why you kissed back. Hell, if this was a dream, then why not enjoy it. because.. come on, your cat becoming a person.. there was no way in hell..

You feel Loki’s slender hands rest against your knees as he used gentle pressure to begin spreading them, his thumbs rubbing pointless circles as he deepened the kiss by being able to lean forward more before he pulled away briefly with his forehead pressed against yours.

‘’I might not be able to help you forget entirely, but allow me to help you forget for at least a blissful moment..’’ he breathed, his eyes studying yours with a hushed tone before his lips took yours in a more passionate kiss. He kissed you, ready to stop if you wanted him to but you made no moves to stop him.

He was right, and it was working. Your arms wrapped around his neck while your legs parted for him to move closer, his arm snaking around your waist while his other ran down your side and down the side of your thigh to pull your leg against his waist. His tongue ran across your bottom lip and you were happy to oblige before he soon had his tongue massaging yours.

Moaning against his mouth, you felt your body relax against his while your hands ran down his chest, fingers studying and trying to figure out how to find an opening to his labyrinth of an outfit before you felt him smile against your lips. You resisted the urge to whine but pulled away enough to give him pleading eyes.

‘’alright darling, only because you asked so nicely..’’ he teased with his voice almost above a whisper before a bright green seemed to sparkle over the both of you. You almost felt a tickle before you looked down at the both of you once the light was gone, to find you both in your under garments and Loki’s eyes already drinking in your beautiful body with hunger.

Your eyes flicked up to his with slight nervousness but enough confidence to want this while your arms wrapped around his neck ‘’help me forget..’’ you whispered and his arms lifted you up onto the bed.

‘’as you wish darling..’’

~

Your eyes snapped open to sudden alertness, your body even flinching as if someone shook you awake.. but no one was there. You could tell you were on your stomach, in bed, with the morning sun peaking through your blinds and into your eyes. The bright light made you turn your body away only to freeze when your whole body told you you were sore.

‘holy hell what a dream..’ you thought as you winced a little and switched to laying on your back. Perhaps you were just sore from all the work you had to do- no thanks to your boss.. but at the same time, you felt well rested. Definitely not a result that would stem from your boss.

You brushed your hair more out of your face and sighed. You have never had an amazing dream like that before, it being over only made you disappointed to have to get up. If it were possible to go back to sleep and back to that dream, you’d stay in bed all day. Wait-

Your hands clutched the sheet around you out of instinct, finding yourself naked. You never slept like that.. Trying to piece things properly together and rubbing the sleep out of your eyes, you turned to make a move out of bed only to squeak out of surprise when you saw the cat you rescued stayed perched on your nightstand, watching you.

‘’..hello cat..’’ you said hesitantly, keeping the sheet closer to you as you stayed put before your brow raised. Didn’t that cat have green eyes before? ..not blue..

Leaning forward, you examined the cat closer that watched you with a calm manor and didn’t move an inch as you gently ran a hand against its head. ‘’..Loki?’’ you whispered, almost feeling silly to try to ask its name but it was worth a try right? What made your hand draw back with widened eyes was when it’s eyes suddenly changed color to the familiar green..

And licked its lips.

My other one shot on the same topic LOL called: Cat Got Your Tongue?

[ggeveryone99]

Mutxip’s Begining: Part 6

hA/N:Well howdy, very sorry for such a logn period between chapters. prolly going to be the same but the next part(s) that I have ideas for are kinda intricit so it’ll take a bit, but enjoy this little snipbit lol. (Also i am so sorry to the people whos tags didn’t work, I dont know what happened)

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

The only thing Jake could effectively make out is her glowing yellow eyes, always unchanging and never moving from her target (Which most of the time is him). He smiles at her curiosity, her natural camouflage hiding any true vision from him of her. Her footsteps are practiced but clumsy from her young age. Her feet lit up whenever she shifts her position. He watches her study him, and he can't help but smile fondly at her curiosity. 

She studies the man that has been coming here every night, and her tail swishes behind her showcasing her curiosity about his approach. 

His natural stripes and dark blue complexion allowed him to be camouflaged in the night to regular eyes, but her honed eyesight allowed her to see him clearly. The moss on the ground glowed where he sat, creating a halo around his legs. Every time his tail brushed back and forth gently on the ground, it was like a comet tail following his movements. His large body almost gave the moss shadow, his hair slightly covering his face and darkening his expression. But what confused her the most was the thick strands of hair coming out of his head. She subconsciously reached to touch her own dark hair, feeling the matted, stringy strands. Strange, her hair isn’t like his; why is it different. She also noted his hands, laid on his knees, and spread out, but there are extra pieces on him. One hand clenches shut, feeling all the appendages. She will have to get close to get a better look at the strange man. 

Slowly she moves from her crouched position to get a better look at him. Leaning her body this way and that to see if she could get a better angle on him. 

Eventually, her curiosity takes over, and she slowly approaches Jake, circling his body and inspecting him and their differences. Jake, on the other hand, was afraid to even breathe. Not even a twitch in his muscles was allowed in case her skittish nature returned. This is the closest he has been to her; he wants it to count and last. And now that he can see her closer, he is allowed to take in her scrabby clothes and matted hair. Take in the amount of dirt on her body and the scratch marks on her arms and legs. The urge to take her into his arms and hold her almost takes over. The urge to hide her away from the world, to be able to protect her from the harsh environment she currently lives in. She has no idea she has an entire clan waiting to welcome her with open arms and celebrations. For her to be loved and protected by those around her. All they wait for is her. Neytiri has already been scrounging for items to put onto the little girl's songcord, ready to welcome another daughter home.   

Cautiously she creeps closer to him, clutching the bracelet given to her. His ears pointed her way, tail twitching with excitement. With a tentative hand, she grabs one of the ‘strands’ of hair. Jake’s’ breath stills at the feel of her hand, but he doesn’t react. He doesn’t move an inch for fear of scaring her to leave and not come back. 

As time continued, she got more and more confident. Moves his hair this way and that, grunting and squealing softly when she sees something new. Inspecting his scalp and touching his queue very gently because she knows how sensitive hers is, so it must be the same for him. She then moved from his hair to his ears, giggling when they flicked around when she touched them. Once she finishes poking and prodding his ear, she takes a hold of his hand and brings it up to her face, surprise filling her childish features.  She tilts her head seeing the extra fingers on his hand confusedly. Jake smiles to himself and allows her to inspect the most obvious difference between them. She brings her hand up and compares the two, confused about their differences. She meets his eyes and juts his hand closer to his face. 

“Hand.” She states, shaking his hand a little to show the urgency. He nods, 

“They are different.” He tells her, her brow muscles tense together in obvious confusion. 

“Why?” A very simple question but a not-so-easy answer, so he tries his best. But he is happy she can understand him. So, as gently as possible, he closes his hand around her hand. “You see the lights?” He points up, and she cranes to look at the sky before nodding. “The shiny’s.” She answers with childlike wonder, always contemplating why they are so far away. 

Jake chuckles, “Yes, the shiny’s. I am different because I am from one of them.” She gasps and snaps her head towards him, gripping his arm with her other hand. She seems like she can barely contain her surprise and excitement. With utter awe in her eyes, she pokes his chest with a finger, “From Eywa.”

It is now his turn to be surprised. He hadn’t thought of it like that in a long time. Slowly, his face turns to a smile, and he nods. “Sure, from Eywa.” He confirms.

 She looks down when she feels his tail gently brush against her leg and decides to investigate. It moves from her grasp when she tries to grab it, and she squeals in delight. For maybe a minute, she chased after his tail while he swished it back and forth, almost taunting her. 

She hisses, then jumps onto his tail, making him laugh. She chases his tail, a common game played with her mother whenever she is feeling feisty before bed. Suddenly she stops, remembering the fruit she brought, and dashes across the small clearing and into the brush leaving Jake confused and startled. But he isn't allowed to feel like that for long as she runs back into the clearing with something wrapped in a leaf held in her mouth, and she runs back as fast as possible on all fours. Jake is slightly taken aback, but he quickly schools himself and watches her with a smile. Watched her skid to a stop and crouch right in front of him to unravel the leaves with a smile. She removes the same fruits as last time before shoving one into his face. 

“Eat,” she demands

He grabs the fruit and methodically peels it while trying to watch the little girl simultaneously. She pays him no mind and stands to eat the fruit without peeling the skin. Absentmindedly leaning on his arm with one hand and eating with the other. He notices that even though she is standing, she is still the same height as him when he sits. He feels a warmth surround him as he watches the girl eat her food messily and look at her surroundings. He feels a crawling urge to protect her. To bring her back, no matter her anger, and keep her safe where she should be. With a real family- he stops his thought. The long run is what he is playing. He already knows his end goal. Neytiri has threatened to come herself if he doesn't try quicker methods. He melts at the thought of his wife. She so desperately wants to come help this little girl in front of him and give her a mother's warmth and love. But Jake knows he has to be slow or else drastic change in her will happen, and nothing for the good. He would never force her to come with him. 

He looks back at the girl to find her staring at him unblinking, pupils blown, and tail swaying with a sense of urgency. Slowly she reaches out to him, and he braces for her to play with his hair again, but instead, he sees her gently urge an atokirina from off his head that he didn’t even realize was there. She slowly brings it to her face and closes her eyes in contentment at the feeling of the pure spirit against her cheek. Jake then watches as another flows down and tickles her ears, making her giggle before cupping that one too. He watches the exchange happen, awestruck at the sign Eywa has given him. It is almost time. 

He watches her sit on the mossy land, resting her back against his leg to allow her full attention toward the two. He freezes, not wanting the moment to end. He was finally at peace for a little bit. Watching her play with the two atokirina, they stayed like that for a while. Her head now rests on his leg, and she is becoming increasingly tired. Eventually, falling asleep, and the two atokirina caress her cheeks one last time before floating away. He watches them dance across the sky before disappearing into the trees. Redirecting his gaze back at the little girl, he smiles softly, feeling the urge to caress her hair, but he holds back. Content with the fact she felt safe enough to fall asleep on him. 

They stayed like that for a while before Jake realizes how late it is, creeping closer to morning as time passes. But there is no way he can leave her here, alone and in the cold with no protection. He would never leave this little girl alone like this. So he waits, keeping watch of his surroundings while highly aware of the weight against his leg. He would snap his eyes towards her every twitch she makes, every time she moved or mumbled. Worry makes his heart clench when he spins his head towards her before having to calm his heart. 

It wasn’t till a later that he heard the slightest movement in the foliage behind him. He doesn’t move, keeping his head forward, but he quietly sniffs the air, and his ears twitch to try and get a better angle toward the noise. Before he could covertly grab his knife, he feels a hot gust of wind against his neck that makes his hair stand on end. A low growl emanates from the creature as it rounds him and the little girl. Protective instincts take over as he swiftly angles his body to cover hers. Baring teeth and growling low to give warning, he cuts himself off at the dark figure stalking them. 

He is face-to-face with familiar cat-like features and iridescent eyes. She doesn't attack, but watches with rapt attention, imperceptibly showing aggression. 

Quickly Jake puts two and two together and realizes the thanator is the same one as before. The one who rode off with the little girl on her back. The mother is covered in scars and battle wounds. Numerous bullet wounds surrounded her chest and legs.

 Jake takes a low breath at the familiar beast and reluctantly bows his head. Strangely the palulukan bows her head in return. They stare at each other for a while before the little girl whines in her sleep, catching the attention of both the Oloeyktan and the palulukan. Jake sighs in discontent, seeing he has to let the mother take back her child. Slowly he moves his hand under her head and the other under her knees to pick her up gently. If she is anything like his boys, she would be sleeping like the dead. Cautiously he approaches the palulukan, and she willingly crouches down to let him put the child on her back. Once situated, Jake steps back and looks out at the girl longingly, toy clutched in her hand and bracelet now around her own wrist. The palulukan gives Jake one last look before returning to the jungle's depths. Jake stands there for a while, watching them walk away, feeling disconcertion before resigning himself and returning home, picking up the leftover fruits as he leaves.

My lovely tag list T^T

@heart-an0n  @sparks0918  @wheezy223  @jackierose902109  @ms5m1th

@keylimepxe  @jaymum

@brisbriskett

[little-miss-dilf-lover]

matt and reader are really good friends and one day reader finally asks matt out and he says yes but then a case or daredeviling runs late and reader ignores him for the week because he stood her up but with a happy ending??

omg I love this sm! thank you for requesting, hope you like it💌

rooftop apologies (Matt x f reader)

wc || 1.4k

warnings || don’t think there are any

masterlist + rules

taglist

You and Matt have been great friends ever since college, your friendship has always been something you valued deeply- just a fun and genuine connection.

You, Matt, Foggy and Karen were having a friend's night at Matt’s apartment, all exchanging funny stories while you shared Chinese food.

“Who wants the last spring roll? It’ll have to go in the trash if no one claims it.” Foggy said while shaking the box as if to tempt you all.

“I can’t- I’m full.” Karen sighed as she leaned back into the sofa.

“No- no, get that away.” You swatted the box, not able to manage another bite.

“Well, if no one else does.” Matt responds, digging his chopsticks into the container.

“I actually should be going… I have a meeting with Ellison early in the morning.” Karen says, sitting up straight.

“I really should too, got a big case coming up.” Foggy says with a sigh.

You all said your goodbyes, hugging each other before parting. Foggy and Karen got a taxi together, but you stayed behind to help Matt clean.

“No leave that, I’ll do it in the morning.” Matt says walking over to you in the kitchen.

“It’s okay, I’m nearly finished anyway.” Placing the clean dishes on the rack. “It’s a ‘thank you’ for paying my part of dinner.” You joke.

“I didn’t- oh.” Chuckling as he got a beer from the fridge. “Okay, yeah I can deal with that.” Uncapping the bottle, taking a sip as he rested against the worktop.

“Just messing with you, but these are finally done… need any other help?” Drying your hands as you looked around his apartment.

“No no- you’ve done more than enough, thank you.” Smiling at you as he rested his chin on the top of the glass bottle.

“Okay, I’ll get out your hair.” You say excusing yourself.

“You sure? We can sit on the roof, like old times?” He sweetly offers.

“I’d love to, but I have an early shift tomorrow.” You lied as you picked up your bag. You wanted to stay but whenever it was just you two, you felt like you were going to blurt out the thing you were trying to hide from him. Or that he’d figure out you were hiding something by listening to the way your heart pumped wildly.

“That’s okay, maybe next time.” He kindly reassures with a smile.

Putting on your shoes and coat, walking to the front door with Matt tailing close behind. Slinging your bag over your shoulder, you turn around to face him. “Hey, Matt?” You slowly start.

“Yeah.” Matching his tone with yours.

“Would you maybe like to go out sometime?” You ask with help from liquid courage.

“Like uh- like a date?” He smiles.

“Um- yeah, but it doesn’t have to be.” Feeling flustered.

“I’d love to. How about Friday at seven? I’ll pick you up.”

“Perfect. Great, okay, uh- see you soon.” Kissing his cheek goodbye as you left. 

Exiting the building, you look up to see Matt perched at the edge of the rooftop. Even though you live in the next block over, he keeps a lookout for you- always making sure you get home safely. He doesn’t know that you know about it, and you liked to keep it that way.

//

Three days had passed since you asked out Matt and it’s now finally Friday. Shrieking out of excitement while you got ready, telling yourself to calm down as you finished off the last touches. You’ve been looking forward to this day for years. You had always had a crush on Matt, but you’d dare say anything about it- hating the possibility of ruining your friendship.

Checking your phone to see that it was five past seven, it’s okay it’s only been five minutes, he’ll be here soon.

Slipping on your shoes and spritzing a few pumps of perfume, deciding to wait patiently by the front door.

What’s keeping him? You thought to yourself, taking your phone out from your bag to see that it’s now twenty past seven. He’s usually very punctual, so his lateness started to worry you.

Even more time passed and you felt your heart begin to sink. He’s not standing you up, right? Right? Slumping into your armchair as your feet began to ache, standing on them too long.

Pulling out your phone once more, noticing that it’s seven forty-eight. Deciding to call, in case he forgot or was lost. You knew deep down he couldn’t be lost, but you just told yourself that to make you feel better, not wanting to think about the possibility of him forgetting.

It went straight to voicemail, so you flung your phone into the sofa out of frustration.

Why is he so late?

Your phone dinged, immediately running over to check it, almost tripping on the rug in the process. Disappointment arose, looking at the text from Pizza Hut. Not who you wanted it to be.

Another hour had gone and it made your chest crumble. It forced you to think about the possibility that he wasn’t coming. Ringing him again, but having no success.

Whipping out your phone again, going onto contacts. Calling Pizza Hut and ordering the deal you had received earlier on. Changing into your loungewear as you waited for your food to arrive. Flicking through your tv, trying to find something good to watch- urgently wanting to distract yourself.

You ate your pizza in almost darkness sitting on your living room floor. Laying down flat against the floor mumbling to yourself. It’s nearly ten and you felt disappointed.

Deciding to call it an early night, you got ready for bed, removing the makeup that you had spent an hour doing. Climbing into bed, you couldn’t be bothered to brush your teeth, you just wanted to sleep.

Rolling over to see the alarm clock on your nightstand, obnoxiously showing you the time.

Several loud knocks come from your door, startling you awake. Sluggishly walking towards it, looking through the peephole.

Sadly smiling when you saw a disheveled-looking Matt. Reluctantly opening it, holding it closed as you spoke to him through the gap.

“Hi.” You grumbled.

“I’m sorry- I’m so so sorry! My case ran over and I had to chase after some people. I’m so sorry.”

“Why didn’t you call?” You mumbled, trying to hide your sadness.

“It was in my pocket while I was fighting, it got stood on. Please can you forgive me?” He gushed, smiling at you apologetically.

“… I don’t know. I’ll just talk to you later. Be careful.” You softly say as you closed the door.

“I’m sorry.” His saddened voice echoed through the door.

You were just hurt for now, you just wanted to sleep it off.

//

A week had passed since Matt ‘stood you up’, he had called you plenty- but you only answered a couple times, keeping the conversation light and airy.

You knew he was sorry, you just felt silly for admitting your interest in him when it didn’t feel reciprocated properly.

Your phone rang, pulling out to see Matt’s name lighting up the screen. Something inside you screamed for you to answer, and so you did. Answering and putting it to your ear.

“Hey! Angel, thank you for answering. I need you to do something for me, please. Can you go up to your rooftop?”

“Why?” You asked slowly.

“Please just do it, and bring a coat.” He said cheerfully before ending the call.

Making your way up to the roof, looking around feeling confused.

“Hey, over here.” Matt shouted. “Watch your step.”

“What’s going on?” You asked as you walked over to him.

He was sitting on a picnic blanket with your favourite flowers in his hand. A few candles lit up to display a variety of snacks spread out across the blanket. You were glad you brought a coat, the New York midnight air already chilling your bones.

“What’s this for?” You questioned, trying to hide the excitement in your voice.

“An apology and hopefully a date. I’m so sorry about last week, I really am.” He softly coos.

“I know you are, it’s okay.” Taking a seat next to him on the blanket.

“Can I tell you something?” He chirps.

“Of course.” You beam while you chewed a couple grapes.

“I’ve been in love with you since I first met you.” Grinning at you.

Your ears pulled back as your lips tugged up into a wide smile. “So have I… I’ve loved you for years.” You finally admit.

Spending the rest of the night cuddling together on the blanket, listening to all the strange and comforting sounds from the city.

[gardenofnoah]

it lives where i live

part four

tags: healing, angst, hurt/comfort, childhood friends to ????, hopeful ending

wc: 2k

note: this was a weird thing for me to finish. i feel like i’ve changed so much as a writer and this chapter reflects that. i changed the pov for this chapter because i felt like it was important to see all of touya’s growth and inner turmoil directly. idk y’all this was my baby and it’s weird to say it’s done (also claps for bea for actually finishing a chaptered fic). alright love u be good

Touya starts to get it.

He has no idea what it is–only that he feels different, and he thinks that’s a good thing, maybe. He assumes it is, because there’s been considerably more enthusiastic head nods from his therapist through his screen each week.

It’s new. The therapist, anyway–the Hero Commission sanctioned therapist’s check ins (a generous title, considering the lack of any real therapy) had fizzled out and stopped all together soon enough, and it was at the tail end of another one sided phone conversation with Natsuo that he’d heard of a shrink with a reputation for treating those who’d been harmed by heroes.

“She has a surprisingly booked schedule,” Natsuo had said, half in jest and not without a tangible weight. If nothing else, Touya was curious–and bored. With nothing better to do, he decided to try a session. Before he knew it, he’d sat through the better part of four.

He doesn’t talk much–mostly because he’d talked a whole lot on a national scale and really, what else could he possibly have to say?–but lately, he’s found himself full of questions he doesn’t know how to ask. It’s hard–he doesn’t feel particularly brave these days, and to get his mouth to shift into the shapes of the words is enough of a challenge. But he tries–he figures that has to count for something.

He wants to understand your anger. There’s a weight to it–one that smacks into him solidly every time he’s on the other end of it. He’s not unfamiliar with anger–he’s been pissing people off for years now. But yours is different. Yours is heavy–you hate him and you run your fingers through his hair when he hides his tears in the toilet bowl and heaves out everything he’s buried deep inside himself at two in the morning. It’s not so easy to wrap his head around that part.

“Your friend.”

It comes through the speaker as a statement and not a question, and he scowls. Is that what you are to him? He’d been so sure that he’d never had a friend. But that can’t be right, can it? When everyone had moved on and away from him, but you had not—was that your friendship? The word tastes bitter and unsatisfactory on his tongue, but he doesn’t have a better one. He nods.

“Is that so surprising, Touya?”

He says nothing, only glaring into the camera. She sighs, wholly unimpressed.

“Think about it. You’ve mourned someone and then they show up out of nowhere, and they’re not that person you’ve been keeping in your heart all of this time. It’s like…a second death.” She says, tapping a finger to her chin as if to summon the words. “Another cycle of grief on top of the first. That’s a lot to feel, no?”

And he…knows that. You’d made it pretty clear, of course, but he feels it, now–like a rash. Your grief sits on his skin and festers in a way that his did not. His burned hot and fast and left him empty, and he woke up without a thought of what the consequences of that fire would be. Yours hit him like a brick wall the second he stepped foot through your door. That brick wall only gave way to cement–unending, uncomfortable.

It feels wrong to interfere with it–like for all he took away from you, this is the least he could give you. He can handle the anger, of course–he can sit in your white-knuckled fury and let it close in on him. That’s fine.

The crying is another thing entirely.

It’s not as if Touya is a stranger to tears, either–he saw his fair share of them wet the faces of those he cut down. Just like the anger, it never particularly bothered him. Not like yours do.

And maybe it’s because he doesn’t see them. The only indication that there are tears comes when he lays completely still at night, and he can just barely hear your sniffles through the wall. Something about it feels bad–unfair, maybe, the way you wait until you think he’s sleeping to let out what you’ve been holding on to. He almost wants to laugh at you–he’s already put you through this much. He would deserve to have all of the aftermath be aimed right at him.

But to lie to himself is evidently not off limits, because it does affect him. Every once in a while he’ll hear a whimper that twists his gut into a tight knot. He thinks of the promise he made you, all of those years ago. He tries not to, but your crying fishes it back to the surface–his stupid, idiot promises to protect you no matter what. Only to become the knife that keeps your hands pinned to the table. He doesn’t know how to protect you from himself. He finds himself still taking from you.

“Alright,” he mutters, coming back to himself. “M’hanging up.”

His therapist only laughs. “We made it 20 minutes this time!”

.

..

He starts eating dinner with you. You’ve been dropping little half-invitations for the last few weeks, and he’s been readily avoiding them. To sit across from you at your table feels too much like a confrontation–and the cowardice that he’s become accustomed to shuts it down before he’s even had time to really consider it.

But tonight you’re eating on the couch in front of the TV, and that feels better. In the dark and with a distraction, he doesn’t have to fully face you. He can think of you and you’ll be none the wiser.

He sneaks glances at you from the other side of the couch and finds himself struck–not for the first time–at how for all of the ways you are different now, you are still the same as you were when he was 13. He knows it’s nothing to do with how you look and everything to do with the way that you are–an anchor that both terrifies and comforts him. He woke up in that hospital bed and knew you were there on the other side of the glass before he opened his eyes.

Is that what friendship is?

He shakes himself out of his head when he feels you squirming next to him. From the corner of his eye he watches you fight with the blanket you’ve swaddled yourself in, somewhere between amused and endeared. It’s an unfamiliar feeling and yet, it feels like he’s felt it toward you all his life. He gives you another second to sort it out yourself before he feels bad. He forgets where he is, he forgets himself–he doesn’t think at all when he wraps his fingers around your foot to free it from the fabric tangling it.

Both of you freeze. For an aching moment, neither one of you blinks. And then you wrench your leg away from him like he’s burned you.

“Sorry,” you mumble, already standing, already shaking. “Sorry, I just–”

But you’re already halfway down the hall–voice tapered off in an explanation he doesn’t need to hear you finish because he already knows. Your door shuts quietly behind you, but creates such a divide between you that you may as well have broken it off its hinges. He doesn’t have to be still to know what’s happening on the other side of it.

He can’t listen to you cry again. His body makes the decision before his mind does, and when it finally catches up he’s standing in the middle of your room.

You’ve gone completely silent–he’s not even sure you’re breathing. Rigid and curled into yourself, you look pitiful. Something about it is hard to look at. His stomach twists and before he can stop himself, he’s reaching for the covers and sliding into the bed next to you. He closes his eyes and his body forms to yours on a memory he doesn’t have but feels he must. You make a wounded sound like he’s just punched you.

“Touya,” it’s barely a whisper and wholly a warning. There’s so much pain in your voice it makes him nauseous. He ignores it, snaking his arm around your waist to pull you to him. “Touya–”

“Just let it out,” he murmurs, resting his forehead between your shoulder blades. “Please. Let it go.”

He feels you freeze–and then the breath leaves you so violently it startles him. He’s almost relieved when he hears the accompanying cry.

He keeps his head pressed to the curve of your back in some strange hope that he might absorb your grief into himself. If he could just carry this, it’d be better. For you, anyway–he’s certain that what you’ve been carrying around would be enough to put him down, but he’d drop dead at your feet if it meant you could be free of what he’s done to you.

His arm tightens around you when he feels you start to fight his grip. “The hell are you doing–”

“Please,” you whimper–only half audible through a tight throat–and it renders him silent. “I just need to see you.”

He can do nothing but let you twist around, and he immediately wishes he’d have fought you on it, because to see your face right now is too much.

Even in the dark your eyes find his and for the first time he can easily name the sadness that permeates into his bones. Sudden and tender like a wound, it’s only a second before he’s pulling you closer for his sake–anything to not have to see. He’d burn the whole world down to not have to see what he’s done.

It's odd, knowing that it’s not necessarily guilt he feels–instead it is a mountain of what can only be his grief, looming and jagged with no perceivable path up it. He looks at you and you reflect back at him a version of yourselves he’d left behind. He takes in your gap toothed smiles and grubby fingers interlocked and tastes iron.

“I was afraid you were really gone.” Your chest shudders harshly against his own. It’s awful–the whole thing. He’s certain he’s never felt like this.

“Yeah,” he can’t get his voice above a whisper. “Me too.”

It’s painful—the child in him that he believed to be destroyed. Looking him in the face now, you stand next to him, but a step behind. That hurts more than anything—the outstretched hand that he never reached for. How different things would have been if he’d have just turned around. He understands now—he’d left you both back there.

He holds you to his chest and feels, for the first time since back then, when something is knocked loose in his chest. He’s not afraid that he’ll bleed all over your bed, because he knows he already is. Something about the certainty of the way you are there, and he is right here next to you, shakes him. There are no tears left in him to shed, so instead he tries to steady shuddering gasps tucked into the crook of your neck.

And then it’s his turn to be held, and that’s painful too, because his skin is still so sensitive and his heart is breaking and god, does he wish he would’ve turned around.

He opens his mouth to say something and can only let loose a tiny, choked sound into the silence, and you understand. But that’s not enough—he needs to try. He needs you to know—to hear him and see that he tried.

“I wanted to find you.”

It shatters the quiet that’s been settled around the two of you. He wonders if it’s a cruel thing to say. He doesn’t know how to gauge your silence. He settles on filling it.

“Didn’t know how,” he whispers to the ceiling, “Was too late—I was too late—“

“Touya.” You stop his spiral and you sound tired. You lay shoulder to shoulder now, and when your fingertips drag up his palm and weave between his own, it feels like you’ve touched down to bone marrow.

“It’s not too late,” you tell him, turning your head to look him in the eye, “it’s not.”

There in the dark of your room, he thinks he could believe you.

[ghostlysoaps]

Stargazing

The safe house is surprisingly well-stocked and Soap finds himself grinning at the box of tea hiding behind tins, MRE’s and canned provisions. Of the bagged variety, though, beggars can’t be choosers. He whips up a mug and walks around the couch Gaz is currently sprawled out on as if he owns the damn thing, ignoring the raised eyebrows and dawning smirk directed at him, as he follows the trail of muddy footprints to the door with a one-fingered salute tossed casually over his shoulder.

It’s a warm evening, the breeze a caress against his bare arms, where insects and birds chirp in tandem. Trees tower above him. Roots coiled every which way, tugging at his toes in an attempt to trip him. His boots sink into the soft earth with every step as he navigates the impenetrable darkness with only the barest wisps of moonlight filtering in through the leafed crowns. Not a bad place to be in all honesty. As if they’re holed up together for a hunting trip and not fresh out of razing a guerilla encampment to the ground.

Eventually, the awning of trees gives way to an open field and at its edge stands a lone figure.

He blends into his surroundings, giving credit to that of his callsign, leaning against a thick, bark-ladened trunk with his arms crossed over his chest and his face tilted towards the sky. At ease. Serene. 

Well… if Soap hadn’t known where most of his knives are hidden and how his hand is dangerously close to wrapping around the hilt of one.

“Dinnae ye dare, Lieutenant, or you’ll end up short of a Sergeant an’ a cuppa both.”

Ghost shifts surreptitiously, away from the wickedness of steel, in a motion noticeable only to a trained eye.

“Be a waste of tea I s’pose,” he replies, glancing at Soap from the corner of his eye.

Johnny presses his lips together against a smile. He knows the bastard is smirking at him beneath black cloth and it would have pissed him off if he didn’t like the way it made his eyes glow with mirth alongside it.

A sliver of skin is all he can see, yet Simon has him hooked through the ribs – snared as helpless prey – and hanging onto every moment he deigns to show more. Waiting and watching and wanting. It’s unprofessional, could tank his career, the ease with which he’d break every rule set before him for a glimpse of the man beneath the mask, and more than that… it’s pathetic. Begging for scraps and wagging his tail whenever Ghost offers him a hint of attention, desperate and yearning for stolen minutes of time.

Banter over the comms aside, these are the moments he cherishes most, when Ghost’s guard is down, when it’s as if they’re the last two men on earth, and Johnny can delude himself into thinking there’s a gentle edge to those brown eyes, a fragment of love returned.

He looks away, up to the same sky Ghost had been searching, counting the constellations he remembers seeing as a child eager to learn from his seanmhair. Black as ink with an unfathomable amount of stars brushed upon it. Johnny’s fingers twitch with the urge to sketch it, though he knows neither the graphite pencils nor ballpoint pen he has with him could hope to capture its beauty. The scattered silver clusters like diamonds, the halfmoon, the wisps of bluish-purple and the chugging satellites – no more than specks on an infinite canvas. 

Engrossed in his own wonder, the prickle he typically feels when observed is nowhere to be found when dark eyes settle upon him.

“You plan on drinking that?”

Johnny startles, can’t with any accuracy tell how long he’d spent cataloging the night’s sky as if they were the freckles Simon sports after days spent in the sun, when the eyeblack gets scrubbed off and their resident ghost sheds one skin for another, plainer variety that hints at approachable. 

“Oh, nae, made it fer ye.”

“Mm. You goin’ sweet on me Johnny?” Simon asks, taking the lukewarm beverage off him with as much care as he shows his service weapon, lifting the lip of his balaclava to rest slightly below the bridge of his nose.

Yes, he thinks, observing the way Simon’s nose scrunches slightly when he brings the lip of the mug up to sniff at, finding the contents lacking and then expressing his distaste in a manner John is far-enough-gone to describe as adorable.

“Maybe,” is what he eventually lands on. Less jovial than he’d planned. Too muted to sound like a joke. A product of the environment and a long festering wound begging to be cleaned in order to heal. “You plan on writing me up for it?”

Simon shifts his weight, their arms brushing briefly, seconds ticking by while he chews on his words and cheek alike.

“No. Be a right hypocrite if I did.”

Voice low and matching the gravity of Johnny’s impromptu, not-quite confession. 

“You–”

A hand on his jaw breaks the word in two and stifles whatever he’d planned to say next, and though his face is tilted up it is also dragged away from Simon’s. He can tell from his peripheral that he’s being watched, regarded closely as only a lover – with rumpled sheets tucked up over their waists – could, but there’s not enough leeway to decipher his exact sentiment or expression. Only that it’s there. Something fathomless brewing beneath the surface and projected outwards. A burgeoning Simon isn’t ready for him to see and Johnny, entrenched in it so deep it’s threatening to seep into his lungs, is too cowardly to voice.

“Not now… not yet. Let me drink in the reflection of stars in your eyes,” he says, gravel-smooth, as if the words are less tangible than the ardor behind them. “They’ve never been more beautiful.”

“Alright,” Johnny murmurs, gaze pausing their strain towards Simon to follow his guidance, cheeks flaming.

He defers to Simon the way he does Ghost – not without a slight hint of pushback before he falls in line. Johnny worms his fingers between his skin and Simon’s, takes the digits cradling him gently in his own, and refuses to let go when their entwined hands are led to rest at their sides. His thumb strokes gentle circles over the thick gloves, hoping it can be felt down to the bone, trying in every non-verbal way to project one simple notion; that he’s glad to have this.

[aquanightau]

Chapter Nine

“Paw up.” Shellpaw meowed, examining Tidepaw’s movement in his hindpaw.

“How’s it?” Tidepaw inquired, shaking it slightly.

“Doing good,” Shellpaw responded, removing the old kelp wrap and applying a new layer, “You should be good in a few days.”

“Too bad it wasn’t any sooner, I could’ve gone to the training at CoralClan.” Tidepaw purred, lowering his paw, “Would’ve been a nice last gift as an apprentice.”

Placing the old wrapping away, Shellpaw rolled his eyes at Tidepaw, “You wouldn’t have gone anyway! You would’ve been named as soon as you recovered!”

“Well, there’s nothing wrong with wishful thinking,” Tidepaw chuckled, “I think you need to learn that.”

“Hey! I know how to have wishful thinking!” Shellpaw complained, though with a smile on his face.

A throat cleared, attracting the two to look at the front of the den entrance. It was Lichenstar, Cavernleap, and their two kits under them.

“Is something wrong, Lichenstar?” Shellpaw meowed, as the two kits hurled themselves towards him.

“Cavernleap wasn’t feeling well before Oysterkit decided to hide from us, and when Oysterkit went missing, it made him feel even worse,” Lichenstar answered, his tail wrapped affectionately tight around Cavernleap’s.

Shellpaw nodded, his tail flicking to an empty area for Cavernleap to lay on.

“I also wanted to talk to you about Tidepaw and well, other things too.” Lichenstar continued, letting go of Cavernleap’s tail as he padded away.

“Sure,” Shellpaw responded, his voice as lengthy as a manta ray.

Lichenstar’s smile crooked as his tail flicked, beckoning Shellpaw to come outside with him.

“So..is this about Turtlesplash?” Shellpaw quickly inquired, staring at his paws as the two walked farther from the medicine den.

Lichenstar remained quiet as the two finally arrived at a desolate place.

“Partly,” He finally answered with a look of apology, “He can’t face you right now. He feels awful about what happened.”

Shellpaw sighed, “Is there anything else to this?”

“Yes, how is Tidepaw doing?”

“Alright,” Shellpaw shifted into a sitting position, “He should be better in a few days.”

“‘K. How about you?” Lichenstar asked, his green gaze piercing through Shellpaw.

“What…do you mean?” Shellpaw inquired, his tail wrapping around himself from discomfort.

Lichenstar blinked a few times before answering, “I was going to give you a name, and I was wondering if AbyssalClan already has.”

“No. They haven’t.” Shellpaw meowed, pawing the ground nervously.

“Alright then. What do you think about ‘Shellshift’?” Lichenstar meowed, sending a shiver down Shellpaw’s spine. Where had he heard ‘Shellshift’ before?

“Are you alright?” Lichenstar asked, his meow full of concern.

“Yes,” Shellpaw slowly responded, doubting it, “I’m fine. And the name is good. I like it.”

“Cool,” Lichenstar turned away, “Also, since the apprentices are out and Tidepaw can’t really do anything, can you help the elders?”

Shellpaw retracted a bit, “oh uh.”

“Joking.” Lichenstar chuckled, padding away.

Shellpaw stared at his leader in disbelief.

“So, what’d Lichenstar say to you?” Tidepaw asked as Shellpaw tended to Cavernleap’s fever.

“Nothing really,” Shellpaw answered, his tail wrapped around the energetic kittens.

“So we’re keeping secrets now?” Tidepaw teased, his paw patting Clamkit’s head.

As the kit giggled under Tidepaw’s hand, Shellpaw rolled his eyes, “It was about your health.”

Tidepaw patted Shellpaw’s head, “Thank you for telling me,” He giggled lightly.

“Whatever..” Shellpaw’s face reddened, “Just get better soon. We're the only apprentices in camp since the others won’t be back for a few days.”

“We’ll see them at full moon though. It’s soon, right?” Tidepaw inquired, his tail slowly swishing in the water.

“Yep.” Shellpaw answered his attention returning to Cavernleap.

It’s TIMEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE

Auditions for the project are closed and we’re soon to choose people for the VAs! If you want a voice, join the discord!

[wellthebardsdead]

Clockwork heart pt34

Part 33 here

———

Nerevar: *looking down from his horse at Wyrm as the younger elf happily walks along side the horses with their newest companion* Wyrm youre going to get worn out. Riftens a full days travel from here.

Wyrm: *smiles up at him* I’ll be fine ata neht! I don’t want Lucien to be left behind.

Lucien: *the newest addition to the group after befriending Wyrm in the dead man’s drink* Oh it’s no trouble really! I can just- jog along side.

Inigo: no offence julien but you look like the sort to get winded tying your shoes.

Lucien: and you look like the sort to carry fleas. Indigo.

Inigo: hehehehehe~ I like you!

Lucien: the feelings much the same for me. But seriously my friend don’t- AWWW A PUPPY!!!

Wyrm: huh- *turns in time to see a large dog running directly for him, his entire body freezing in utter fear watching the strangely red eyed creature bound towards him* n-no-

Taliesin: *suddenly yanks Wyrm up by his robes and onto naomis saddle with him only for the dog to reach up putting his paws on the horse* DOWN! BAD DOG! GET AWAY FROM HI-

The dog: *ignores Taliesin and bites onto Wyrms boot tugging at it* you are just what I’ve been looking f-… Sotha Sil?

Taliesin: did… did this mutt just talk?

Kaidan: never focking mind that how does it know his name?!

Nerevar: *gets off his horse, hand on his blade as he stares down the hound* Hello, Barbas.

Barbas: … *slowly turns his head to face the Gahmerdohn and Hortator* Oh… Boy, you sure look different.

Wyrm: *simply faints, his crippling fear of dogs getting the better of him*

Taliesin: WYRM?!

Voryn: HLA KHES!? (Little gem)

*several hours later*

Wyrm: *staring at the pile of cheese he’d turned a vampire into as he reluctantly helps Barbas find his master* whew this things got all sorts of weird features- Noooo get away! *whimpers backing up against the icy wall of the cave as barbas approaches sniffing at him*

Barbas: *sniffs his robes and skin ignoring the wabbajack in the dunmers hands* So if you’re not sotha sil, then you’re his reincarnation? Huh he must’ve really been running low on power when he put you together.

Wyrm: I-I don’t know why he made m-me o-or why he made me like this n-now get back! I mean it! I-I’ll turn you into a chicken!

Barbas: Does this form really scare you that badly? Aren’t you supposed to be the dragonborn?

Wyrm: I-I can’t help my fear of- *goes quiet watching the daedra shift and warp his appearance before suddenly looming over him as a red eyed, antlered high elf* dogs-

Barbas: *leans down smirking* How can you defeat the dragons when you’re afraid of a little puppy do- GAHH-

Nerevar: *grabs him roughly by his ear yanking him back and holding his head close to his so only he can hear* I’m being lenient with you because your master and lady Mephala are still on good terms but know this now. I do not care what transpired between you and sotha sil, if you keep frightening Wyrm when he’s so generously agreed to help you. I will hand feed you to Boethia myself.

Barbas: *looking visibly intimidated and failing miserably at hiding it* okay okay I’m sorry! I’ll behave.

Nerevar: *lets him go* good.

Taliesin: *walks in followed by inigo & kaidan* all clear, the last of the vampires have been killed- who in oblivion are you?

Nerevar: Barbas.

Barbas: Nerevar?

Taliesin: Barbas?

Barbas: Taliesin?

Taliesin: Wyrm?

Wyrm: Taliesin-

Inigo: INIGO!

Kaidan: *face palms*

???: “Wyrm? What an odd name… hm. Fitting I suppose if the power I sense from him is what I think it is.”

Wyrm: *blinks and walks to taliesins side, gripping onto him nervously for a moment before following the voice into the main chamber, the others tailing close behind*

Voryn: *standing before a large statue of clavicus vile, staring up at him with an indifferent expression* You harbour no ill will to him then?…

Clavicus Vile: Why would I? He’s not Sotha Sil. And he helped me fulfil my followers last wish~

Voryn: he did? How?

Clavicus Vile: They begged me for a cure for their vampirism. And you came through and killed them all! I couldn’t have planned it better myself!

Wyrm: how awful…

Voryn: *looks up at the stairs leading down to him* Wyrm, to me. *holds out his hand reassuringly, showing no fear before the daedra*

Wyrm: *steps forward hesitating still despite voryns comforting presence*

Barbas: *walks by him patting his shoulder* don’t worry just let me handle this, you helped me, now I help you.

Wyrm: *looks up at him before looking back as Taliesin takes him around the waist, cooing softly to him to let him know it’s okay* teacup…

Taliesin: shhh, You’re safe, I’m here… *smiles reassuringly, masking the concern and uncertainty behind his eyes*

Wyrm: *shakily grips onto his robes and nods, walking down the ramp with him and standing beside voryn at the statue* u-um- hello? C-can you take your- friend? Back now please?

Clavicus Vile: Hmph! That insufferable pup?! No way! No deal-

Wyrm: p-please?

Nerevar: *steps forward to intervene* Wyrm you shouldnt say that it’ll sound like you’re beg-

Voryn: shhh. *looks back at nerevar then at wyrm with a reassuring smile*

Clavicus Vile: *silent for a moment, the air around his statue still for a brief second before suddenly shifting and warping into an explosion of fire and sparks as the stone gives way to the prince himself, staring down at them in all his glory* Hm… *reaches down slowly, offering his hand to the dunmer*

Wyrm: *climbs on without a hint of fear, ignoring how everyone steps forward with panic evident on their faces as the prince of wishes lifts him up to be eye level with him*

Clavicus Vile: After the court of bedlam incident, Id expected old sil to have transferred his hatred of the daedra into you. His caution at least but- you are a strange little thing aren’t you?…

Wyrm: you know about sotha sil? Can you tell me what he was like?

Clavicus Vile: *grins suddenly seeing a bargain to be made* Of course, but you have to do something for me in return~ just tell me your wish and I’ll make it happen.

Wyrm: okay.

Nerevar: Wyrm don’t!!

Voryn: *now showing visible concern* little scrib hold on a moment-

Wyrm: I wish to know why I was made.

Clavicus Vile: *smirks thinking he’s got him where he wants him* of course~ just let me- *reaches his other hand up to touch his head, to see into his mind and grasp his soul and find the tethers that made him. Only to be met with an agony only paralleled by that of umbra as the force of the clockwork god pushes him back out, nearly splitting him in two a second time* UGHHHH!!! *staggers back, dropping wyrm as he grabs his head in pain*

Wyrm: *screams and flails in a panic as he plummets to the ground*

Taliesin: *dives and catches him, shielding his fall with his body as he hits the ground with a thud* Oof! Ughh- *sighs holding wyrm tight* shhh I’ve got you-

Clavicus Vile: AARGHHH YOU HORRIBLE LITTLE-

Taliesin: *gets up holding Wyrm tight* Watch your tongue!! Don’t you dare insult him you horrid beast!

Clavicus Vile: Him? *pauses realising he thinks he’s talking about wyrm* no not him… Sotha Sil, he- stopped me?… but how?

Barbas: Master?

Clavicus Vile: *looks at him perplexed, the two seemingly sharing a conversation only they can hear* … *turns his gaze back to Wyrm* I- can’t grant you your wish. Perhaps there’s something else you might want?…

Wyrm: *feeling unsettled at the princes bewildered expression* c-can you make me bigger? Stronger?… I’m supposed to be the dragonborn but… Im useless on my own…

Nerevar: Wy-wyrm I don’t think that’s a good idea-

Voryn: *gently takes nerevars hand, his concern giving way to intrigue and confusion* shhh, I don’t think… I don’t think he can actually do anything to him.

Clavicus Vile: *no longer appearing confident or cocky with his powers, now just a mix of confusion and mild fear as he tries again* Okay- let’s see if this will work-

Wyrm: *gently pushes away from taliesins arms and stands pretty, waiting for the prince to work his magic*

Clavicus Vile: *holds his hand over him, suddenly surrounding Wyrm in a sphere of energy, his magic pulling at his body, his skin, his bones, his muscles, trying to make him bigger, to grow, to change in any way he can, only to release him as he ultimately fails, leaving him there staring at the unchanged mer, horrified at how untouchable he is* I… I don’t know what he made you with or how but- I-I don’t even think Boethia could change you!

Wyrm: *standing there looking crestfallen, simply just drops down to the floor and hugs his knees to his chest* okay… can you take your friend back now at least?…

Clavicus Vile: *visibly rattled trying to figure out just what exactly Wyrm is, why he feels so familiar in a way beyond just that of the clockwork god* y-Yeah, b-barbas come here.

Barbas: *smiles looking up at him then at Wyrm* Thank you, don’t worry I won’t let you leave here empty handed! *hurries to his masters side, both of them turning into stone statues once more as he reaches him, only now the mask once in Viles hand, now seated in front of Wyrm*

Wyrm: *picks the mask up quietly* thank you…

Clavicus Vile: I don’t know how it’s possible, I’ve never encountered a mortal like you, but I can’t help you change yourself… If you ever need a wish though involving, anything else, you have my boon. It’s the least I can do seeing as you’ve restored me back to my full power! You forget what that’s like when you’ve been stuck in a cave for 3 years!!

Voryn: *opens his third eye scanning the statue as silence fills the space once again* they’re gone.

Taliesin: *leans down gently helping Wyrm up to his feet* are you okay?…

Wyrm: *staring at the mask* … I don’t know anymore…

Lucien: …Okay so I knew things were already beyond interesting given who you guys are- *gestures to the whole group* But he just crippled a daedric prince by doing nothing and you’re all just- not freaking out over it?!

Inigo: oh yes it’s quite normal for us at this point.

Caryalind: my first day with this group I travelled through the sewers beneath solitude to find it had been merged with the shivering isles all because Wyrm went sleep walking after a sword and a chunk of amber that we handed over to the captain of sheogoraths guard.

Taliesin: I met him after he absorbed the soul of lorkhan and our second day together he imploded a dragon just by looking at it.

Kaidan: he nearly levelled all of winterhold and almost murdered a bunch of psijic monks.

Inigo: he shares sugar cookies and gossip with a floating mass of energy called the augur of Dunlain.

Nerevar: he’s the reincarnation of sotha sil, at least, we think he is, we’re not sure anymore.

Voryn: He is and he isn’t. He witnessed the birth of creation and achieved chim in his own right.

Lucien: And you were just going to keep this hidden from me?! I have so many questions!

Wyrm: so do I… and no answers to show for them… *sighs hiding his face in taliesins robes* how am I going to defeat alduin?… what if Esbern can’t help?…

Taliesin: … *picks him up holding him close as he rests his head on his shoulder* shhh, you will, we’ll find a way. If he’s of no help then I’ll do everything I can to find you your answers… *kisses his cheek softly* I promise…

*that evening*

Wyrm: *sitting in his and taliesins tent, braiding his hair as he stares at the pages of his book, watching the patterns swirl* what are you hiding from me?… why am I not allowed to know?… *scowls* this is my life, why do you keep trying to ruin it?… *blinks watching as a monarch butterfly suddenly lands on the page, flitting its wings open and closed slowly, revealing a different colour each time* … *looks down to the wabbajack & sword of jyggalag by his bed roll* …You want… to talk to me?… *looks back at the butterfly*

The butterfly: *flits it’s wings and flies up, landing on his forehead, knocking him out cold with a feathery touch*

Taliesin: *peers into the tent to see no butterfly, only Wyrm sleeping. Seemingly haven fallen asleep trying to read his book* oh love… *picks up the book and stares at it for a moment before scowling as he closes it and tosses it aside* Blasted thing… *huffs and leans down pressing his lips to Wyrms forehead* sleep tight love… I’ll try my best to help you… even if it’s not enough… *sighs and climbs back out of the tent to join the others in keeping watch. All of them unaware of the two masked groups, eyeing both them, and each other up from beyond the treeline*