#anyway planning a trip so the house hunt is on hold

[andyridgeley]

houses still selling for over their list price even though the list prices are already over what the homes are actually valued at we live in a society

[lovelyyandereaddictionpoint]

Force in Nature | Platonic Yandere Trey Clover x Toddler Reader

Part 2

Being a child, in your experience sucked. Even with a developing mind there were constant reminders of all your faults. Short, weak, disadvantaged and constantly at the whim of adults. Most children wouldn’t mind so much, considering that the adults in their life mean well but not you. Never you.

“(Y/n) don’t give those fat brats anymore then that. They’re already eating us out of house and home.”

The drivel of your mother rings like a bell in your head. Always chastizing, always negative. It had gotten better now that she had found your father but it wasn’t enough. It was never enough. In her mind she figured his children were the only obstacle left between her ‘happily ever after’ with your father. 

“Ace! Deuce! Did you break into this pantry again?!”

It didn’t help that the twins were rambunctious spitfires that were prone to trouble anyway. Which meant they were often forced to reach out their hands to suffer the wrath of the ruler. Their father was a popular man, often more focused on updating the town’s bulletin boards than disciplining his children but it was clear he loved them. 

But love was never enough to save the duo from your mother’s accusations.

At least once a day, your mother would report the twins for doing or saying something awful. It would always lead to an exhausted sigh before stomping over to the children to give another lecture and dish out some chore as punishment.

“This so unfair, we didn’t even do anything this time.”

“Well I know I didn’t. Maybe you did something Ace.”

“What!? How dare you blame me! Don’t you believe me, (Y/n)?”

You usually were a witness to their innocence, often spending your time with them anyway. But for whatever reason not being able to speak meant your written testimonies were invalid. No matter how many times you wrote in you’re book and presented it to your father it never seemed to work. 

“You’re so sweet (Y/n). Trying to save your big brothers; you know that lying doesn’t help their case anymore.”

It was fine when it was only that. Baseless accusations and then the punishment of simple chores. Every now and then a prank in return for their suffering but then the chilly warning of Autmn came around. While the likeness that the snow would pile too high was low, the scarcity of food was a guarantee. Already aware of the set portions you’d receive suddenly decreasing and the way your father didn’t dare eat with you all any more spoke volumes.Unfortunately your mother wasn’t all too fond of cutting material costs.

“Cater I’m telling you, we’ll never get to eat if we have those kids in the house.”

“But love (Y/n) would never survive the trip into town.”

“Not them you idiot! They hardly eat more than a rat! It’s those boys of yours! They’re so big they ought to be hunting for their own by now.”

“The boys…not them they are still children too.”

“Stop whining. I’m going to take them out tomorrow, to learn how to hunt.”

“You?! But you’ve never—”

“Shut-up! Maybe then I can get those kids to do something worth the wasted meal.”

Reporting to your brothers the plan for the day felt like being the espionage detail for a secret operation. It made you proud when they used their information to concoct their own plan. They deduced that she planned to ‘lose’ them during her hunting lesson. Thus Deuce’s genius-plan to leave stones leading to the house was born. It was a shame that this plan didn’t involve you in any way but you were happy to see Deuce leaving stones behind as your mother led him into the forest. 

Trying to comfort your father for a decision he didn’t protest felt odd. Of course, you wouldn’t understand the emotional struggle of his love life and the love of his trouble-causing twins. You are a kid, you aren’t supposed to know. Still, you let him hold you, mumbling curses to himself about cowardice as your mother opened the door. She huffed and puffed about him not greeting her before going off to prepare dinner. 

Unable to resist the urge you settled on the chair beneath the window. Watching the opening into the forest being led to by the stones. Sure enough, before the sun had set and the fourth time your mother had called you for dinner they were there. Appearing slightly dirty but determined they came just in time, much to your mother’s dismay.

Of course, what followed was a new plan for tomorrow.

“I’ll take them deeper in! And I’ll make sure to kick all those pebbles away”

“Please let’s just–”

“Starve!? We’ll barely have enough for dinner tomorrow! They must go!”

“But it’s so cruel.”

“Do you have a better idea?”

The silence from your father was telling and like before you reported to your brothers. They took your notes with just as much urgency as the last, instead trading their stones for crumbs from the sliver of bread they’d be given for lunch. At the time it sounded like a great idea.

But as the sun set and the critters of the forest picked at the crumbs left behind, it dawned on you. 

This was a terrible idea.

With a quickly scribbled note left on the window sill, you took a ball of yarn tying it to the bush near the forest opening. Following the disappearing trail of critters, you were walking in the direction your brothers went finding that it stopped in a clearing. From there the moon could no longer illuminate the crumbs still left and the critters weren’t leading you accurately anymore. 

It was getting colder. The woolen sweater and mitts are your only comfort. With a rumbly tummy and the heaviness on your eyelids increasing, you settled into the dirt. Promising you’ll find your brothers when you wake, staving off the fear from your shrunken spool of wool.

When the sun rose again you woke with renewed vigor. The pain of hunger leaving you for the time being you set your gaze to the ground. Of course, the crumbs were gone but vague indents in the dirt gave you enough of a guide. During your tracking you start the game of letting your smaller shoes take a fraction of their tracks following along as you replay a song your father would sing.

Eventually, the tracks stopped at a paved pathway, it smelled sweet like a candy you’d seen the twins eat. It made you curious but you trusted your judgment to ignore your hungry thoughts. The tracks didn’t continue past the pavement and knowing your brothers they’d certainly gave the brightly colored path a try.

The grumbling desires of your stomach weren’t spoiling your resolve— or that’s what you were telling yourself. Going down the hill the path led over it’s destination led you to a place you swore shouldn’t have existed. In a clearing, the candied path led to a gingerbread house, decorated with various frosting, gumdrops, and red vines. The fence around it was peppermint canes surrounding the sugary house invitingly. A perfect garnishment for an already delectable house. Your stomach agreeing you found yourself closing in on the gingerbread foundation perfectly level with your small mouth. 

Before you could dive in, you stopped. Thinking back to nicer days in the forest you remembered thanking the squirrels buried in the trees surrounding your cottage. Instead of burrowing inside your warm, inviting home they kept to their holes in the nearby trees. Of course, your young mindset wouldn’t have comprehended why animals that wanted to survive avoided the cottage. But that was beside the point. 

Your manners for the owner of the candy house would not be affected. Even though your stomach churned almost painfully at your denial. To make it easier you turned away from it crouching down to hold the grumbling organ. Repeating that you could eat when you returned with your brothers to share—no matter how little was left. 

“You are allowed to eat you know.”

The sultry voice of a man stopped your internal thoughts, peeking your head over your shoulder to look at the interruption. In the doorway of the house was a tall and handsome man, he reminded you of the young bachelor in town. Wearing a tight black long-armed shirt lined with rhinestones, your mother would envy. The dangling sparkles matched his pants which were long and wide at the ankles. His attire was interesting because you’d never seen it before, the man’s face was just as alarming. Hair as green as the surrounding trees was flowing to his waist contrasting his black outfit in a ragged but neat look. It was like a halo of green against his pale skin, golden eyes, and pink lips.

“You look hungry, why don’t you take a bite?”

The way he said it was hypnotic. An inviting and comfortable thrum of a voice that started to pinprick into your morale. You shook your head as if that would expel the greedy thoughts threatening to take hold. You hurriedly pulled out your notepad writing as neatly as you could. Holding up your notepad, you hoped he could read.

'It’s your house…that’d be mean.'

He leaned in to see what you wrote, retreating back to the arch of the gingerbread door.

“I was the one who chose a candy house. It just comes with the territory.”

He flashed a smile, white as milk. You licked your teeth beneath your mouth, feeling the plaque build-up that you’re sure makes your teeth yellow. Thinking of brushing, your memories trickled the moments you’d had with your brothers. The excitement that came with using your toothpaste for anything but. It reminded you of your real objective.

'Have you seen my brothers?'

The man tilts his head. You proceed to draw them to the best of your ability; trying to use the charcoal to detail the colors of their hair, and their height compared to your own. It’s hard to tell if he knows anything as his small smile hasn’t waivered. But as you scribble and point you worried he’d stopped listening.

“How about you come inside, have a bite, and I can help you find your brothers. That sound like a plan?”

You nodded. Standing up, you rushed to his side to grab his extended hand letting him lead you inside.

'My name’s (Y/n), what’s you’re name?'

“Trey. You can call me: Trey."

'Nice to meet you, Trey!'

“Likewise.”

______________________________________________________________

Trey Clover loved to eat children. It was in his nature to come from a long line of baking witches. It wasn’t a trade secret that children extend your life and beauty; the real secret was how to craft the potions with the children to make delicious desserts. Forest animals and pesky adults were fine ingredients but nothing was more fulfilling than a child’s soul. They were also much nicer to have as victims. They cried sure but they were dumber, more gullible, and so much easier to fatten up. But for all the children he’d consumed over the past century, there was something Trey could definitively say was the truth.

That Trey Clover loved children. His family ruled him as demented for such a thought but it was the truth. For all the fulfillment he’d have after his rejuvenating meals, there was still a resounding sorrow that nothing he could make would overshadow. Nothing but the shining presence of another child. 

Trey rationalized that he wasn’t crazy, humans had pet pigs all the time. He’s no different in that way. That every now and then the thought of keeping one crossed his mind, diminished at the thought of one thing or another. Whether it was a spark of brattiness that was hidden behind a sunny demeanor or just the undisciplined actions of a bully in the making. It reminded him why he’d never let himself feel too bad as he tossed their belongings into the basement after a satisfying meal. He figured it was natural selection. Like any other predator, he looked for the weakest, the slowest in the pack to pick off and sustain him for another ten years. 

But he’d begun to waiver with such an innocent soul in his grasp.

“How was that? Was it good?”

'But my brothers–'

He'd close the pad before the question was asked.

“Your head is so warm, I think you’re coming down with a fever.”

Cradling the young child, he settled to swaying them to sleep. His usual victims were not so young, often much older and more defiant. That is why it was such a treat to have a well-mannered impressionable little toddler to care for. With a resolve to their mission that was unavoidable, it still was nothing against the bedtime routine he’d been taught long before. He couldn’t remember if it was his mother or one that he’d eaten but she detailed the way to care for small children with such pride. In his heart of hearts, he’d admit to having eaten her out of envy. But now she proved more useful than her bones as he ran a bath for the yawning toddler.

Distracting them with talks of nothing as he gently wiped the grime off their little body. He had to refrain from frowning at the signs of a rash on their back. He was blankly staring at the untreated patch, cursing the adults who’d allow a sick toddler to run through the woods. But from their other children’s stories, they weren’t all that good to begin with.

The sound of a sneeze reminded him of his task.

“Bless you. After your bath I’m just rub a little ointment on your back before you settle down okay?”

They tiredly nodded, Trey resisted the urge to coo.

“You’re doing a good job staying awake. Let’s finish up before you fall asleep, okay?”

His parents were completely right about him. What sane witch would have a room decorated for a toddler already made, already infused with sleeping herbs that’d erase the thoughts of the past? 

“Goodnight, my sugar cube.”

The notepad had been abandoned long ago. The urge to burn it was growing.

“Tomorrow we can look for your brother.” 

The demanding sign of '2 brothers', made him laugh. Not after today you wouldn't.

“Maybe one day sugar cube, sleep tight.”

Kissing (Y/n)’s head and waving as he closed the door, Trey was elated. It was difficult to wipe the smile off his face when he unlocked the basement door.  

It wasn’t just as he left it per his instructions to the bratty boy. Ace was far too skinny to be worth a good meal and from what Trey could tell a decent worker under stress. Trey figured it’d be hard to break his spirit if the other boy was around. Of course there was a chance it'd return with his little one. Trey would bet on fear and duty overwhelming him and he’d fall right into place.

“I see you’re working extra hard. Good.”

______________________________________________________________

Ace stopped sweeping, his little knuckles white as he fought the urge to scream at the witch. He only wanted to see his brother. After the first night, he knew rebelling would get him nothing but trouble. 

“Can I see my brother now?”

Trey hummed closing the door behind him, he didn’t bother to lock it. He knew the boy wouldn’t want to leave. He took the ring of keys from his belt twirling around his lithe finger as he stepped deeper into the basement. Ace stuck close to his side, waiting anxiously to see his brother again. 

The last time he saw him, his face was wet with tears. His hands were still sticky from the treats they’d gorged on, angrily shaking the unmoving metal bars around him. Ace couldn’t sleep if he tried. 

“Before we go in, you two have a younger sibling. (Y/n) was it?”

Ace’s already sped-up heart-rate, went seconds faster. The collection of little papers in his hands with a tattered cover was far too familiar.

“They sound so determined to find you two.”

“What did you do to them!?”

When Trey turned his head over his shoulder the sneer he gave, bore into Ace's soul like a needle. Flashes of the suffocating pain the night before demanding he fix his demeanor immediately. 

“Quiet boy.” The command was like a heat rod, sweltering from such a short distance. He looked away from those golden eyes for his own sake. “I won’t be doing anything to them if you behave.”

The final warning hung in the air with the door now unlocked. The metal door swinging open was a cruel mirror of when they first accepted the invitation to eat some more. There were tables of sweets and pastries along the cracking walls of the room. A table with a checkered tablecloth and a painted chair were placed off to the right side of the room; waiting for someone to enjoy the decorative plating on its surface. But unlike the day they first arrived a metal cage was hanging from the ceiling and his brother Deuce was in it. 

“I’m glad you ate. At least hunger won’t be the last thing on your mind.”

Trey’s off-handed comment was ignored as Ace ran to clutch at the bars separating him from Deuce. As best as they could they hugged one another, the cold and rusted bars a constant reminder of their unfortunate circumstance. 

“Deuce I can’t let this happen! I have to do something!”

Deuce shook his head,” No, if you do anything bad he’ll eat you too! You’ve got to get back home and find Dad!”

Ace pulled at his orange strands, “I can’t he has (Y/n).”

Deuce’s serious face, quivered. His brave instructions became mute as he imagined their youngest sibling unknowingly falling into the same trap they did.

“You have to protect them. Please, Ace.”

The blue-haired boy couldn’t speak anymore his nose running and tears falling again. All he could do was clutch at Ace’s hands, attempting to put his forehead against the bars to feel his brother's. Ace was crying too, barely standing as he held onto his brother.

“Are you done? I’m not getting any younger over here.”

Trey's snide remark was not appreciated, nor was his giant hand pulling at the rags of his clothes, shoving him toward the oven. Ace didn’t need to ask for Trey to point at the brush and pan on the floor.

“Clean up the oven. The metal earrings from my last meal will make him taste worse.”

Ace murmured his distaste as he opened the oven door. Looking into the deep black mouth of the oven, it amazed him that whole people could fit in there. 

It also gave him a devilish idea.

“Uhm I don’t know how to.”

Trey turning towards him was frightening, the black coloring around his eyes flaring with such disgust. 

“Are you troubled? You just go in and sweep the ash at the floor of the oven.”

Ace pretended to look into the oven before jumping back, “Are you sure there’s not someone down here?”

The witch was prepared to punish the boy but he thought of the toddler upstairs. He had dreamed of the day, he would be called to check the closet for monsters. He figures if he’s keeping the defiant one, he should show some of the same care that he’ll be showing for (Y/n). 

It’s all too easy for Trey to climb inside, having done so on his own, hundreds of times before. Crawling to the back he felt the child coming up beside him, immediately making him grab the head of the boy. 

Ace felt his stomach flip. Had he figured him out?

“We can’t go in at the same time, wait ‘til I’m done.” 

“O-okay.”

As instructed Ace crawled back out, watching how the witch's body fully disappeared into the oven. Once his feet passed the threshold of the oven’s opening, he didn’t hesitate to close the oven door. Jumping up to flick the lock closed, Ace ignored the angry banging as he pulled at the red-colored lever to turn on the oven. 

The feeling of the heat flickering to light brought a successful comfort to the orange-headed boy. The frantic banging from within the oven was as frightening as the demonic screaming from within. 

“W-wait but the keys! He still has them!”

Ace assured his brother with the jingling object in his hand. Deuce pulled him into a teary hug once he’d been freed from the metal cage. The smell of sweat and burning flesh, never being so enticing. The moment between the two stopped as the banging became more and more apparent; the lock clicking as it held the oven closed.

“Let’s get out of here before he breaks out of there.”

“I agree.”

Deuce is the first to run through the door and out the basement; likely because of his time in the metal cage. Ace on the other hand faltered, snatching an armful of the pastries lining the room. He flipped the bird at the furnace and ran to lock the door to the basement door. Before he did, he took a moment to pay his respects to those before him. Bowing his head at the rows of shoes and belongings he’d organized, he apologized again before snatching a satchel. With the final locking of the basement door, Ace lets Deuce run up the stairs to search for their little sibling. 

Allowing Ace to have free reign of the upper floor that had deceived them before. He was never considered a good kid but he hardly saw the appeal when he had no qualms about breaking whatever he couldn’t take. 

“It almost makes this all worth it!”

Deuce, on the other hand, found you easily. The room had a distinct smell that almost made him feel safe. Going out on a limb he found his baby sibling curled up underneath a fluffy blanket. He easily tucked his arms underneath to carry them, he stopped to notice the spool of wool falling from their hand. Deuce put two and two together; smiling at the sleeping toddler in his arms. 

“Thanks to you, (Y/n). We’ll all get to go home.”

The trip back was like a minor stroll. The original dangers of the forest were diminished to minor nuisances in comparison to the horrors they’d endured. Of course, the two still had other things to worry about when they did return home.

“What are we supposed to do about the step-lady?”

“Hm, I don’t know maybe we should push her into the oven too.”

Ace laughed and usually, Deuce would scold him for the macabre joke. But Deuce didn’t really consider that a joke nor was he completely against it. The brothers had plenty to think about as they each took turns holding their snoozing sibling. 

It’s probably best they didn’t look back at the candy house. 

For they might be filled with dread at force they awakened.

[platinumshawnn]

Bound by Blood and Fire | Benjicot Blackwood -- pt vi

Synopsis:

Two days to the wedding and the risk of more bloodshed looms at the boundaries between Brackens and Blackwoods as the council encounter a bump following Benjicot’s actions.

Serra begins to hear rumors around the castle of the impending battle and word from King’s Landing regarding an army of Aegon’s that is making its way along the western shore and targeting the houses on his behalf. Serra approaches her father again regarding the matter amidst finalizing wedding plans and finds comfort and friendship in another Blackwood.

masterlist | playlist | backwards | forward

A/N: hi!!! popping in from the queue, i threw in a slightly suggestive scene at the end plus some bi-icon alysanne/blackwood siblings serving cvnt <333 I also have chapter seven coming this Friday at 9:01am EST which will be the wedding finally. i want to preface that the next chapter will contain smut, for anyone who is not comfortable with that, anyways!!

Content Warning(s): MDNI — 18+, adult language, mentions of blood, violence, and war; era related sexism and gender based harassment/discrimination, sexually suggestive content, mild depictions of family based violence, implied suicide ideation.

Word count: 10.1k

He could still see his face when he slept. 

Benjicot spent a better part of his youth in the woods beyond Raventree on hunting trips and generally just wandering; mapping out every corner of their land on the days he had off from duties, such as training or shadowing his father’s council meetings as a boy. It was a place of comfort for him, where he had never experienced trouble finding sleep whenever he found himself camped there, and yet for the past two nights, he had been lucky to even find an hour of sleep without being startled awake. Suddenly, it felt like every chirp of a cricket or snap of a twig from a deer that calmly strolled through the trees in the distance had him on edge and jumping awake and frozen in fear; worried that it was the Brackens coming for him or his father to drag him back to their home. It did not bring him any relief to know that Emrys had been suspended from patrolling the lands in the meantime, since returning and word reaching Raventree of Rodrik’s death, leaving the grounds nearly unguarded beyond a couple of young boys whom Benjicot knew could barely hold a sword. 

Emrys could only sneak to him once a night, creeping out after dark once he knew that Samwell was asleep — even then, doing so involved bribes to sneak out with the boys. 

Even when he had managed to find sleep, it was plagued by nightmares of Rodrik’s face -- his eyes, wide and dead as he laid face down in the mud after landing with a thud that echoed in his mind. Benjicot had been covered in Bracken blood as he, Emrys, and Davos dragged him back over the boundaries into their land, whilst Benjicot had nearly been swept away by the river, choking on mouthfuls of water that threatened to take him away in its angry grasp, his vision blurred. They had nearly lost Rodrik in the midst, slipping on mud and grunting with exertion as they dragged his body from the waters and back to dry land. He could still hear Emrys’ complaint as he was dragged through the grass, “This bloody boy weighs a ton.” 

Benjicot had insisted that they at least provide him the decency of rolling him onto his back, rather than face down, earning a confused glare from Davos, who was beyond exhausted at that point. It was then that he had seen the damage he had done. Sliced from collarbone to pelvis, a large gash from his throat and down his belly, his house colours torn down the front. Benjicot had fumbled to undo his cloak and cover him, leaving his face exposed for once someone came in search of him — he knew it would only be a matter of time. 

Davos had grabbed his House pin from his body as they had begun to leave and pressed it into Ben’s hand as he brushed past him to retreat to Blackwood land, muttering something about a ‘trophy’, as if he should be proud but Benjicot was anything but proud of himself. He hadn’t returned the pin to its owner, though. The pin had remained in his tent, finding himself staring at it every so often, whenever he woke up from his nightmares or whenever it caught the light in the corner of his eye which felt like every couple of hours. It was a reminder of what he had done.

Benjicot had jolted awake again after falling asleep after supper, nodding off only because he was so exhausted, it physically pained him. Again, Rodrik’s face was there behind his eyelids, that horrified expression on his face as he fell, choking on his blood—  this time, he was haunted by the image of his sister behind him, screaming and sobbing as she watched on, unable to do anything, her hands at her belly as she cried into the grass. He had tripped out of his makeshift bed on the ground, bolting out of his tent and hardly making it outside before he had fallen to his knees, hunched over on all fours as he threw up the fish and water he had barely managed to stomach earlier; coughing as he choked up the contents. His fingers dug into the grass, red-faced and panting as he dry heaved for a few moments, his body convulsing with effort as he leaned into an elbow; caring little if he got any on him. 

He had hardly noticed Emrys approaching, standing a few feet behind him, “You look like shit.” 

He weakly turned to glance behind him, eyes slowly coming to look up at his cousin who stood near the edge of his tent, a hand on the bag that hung at his waist; head tilted and watching him. He spit into the grass, the taste lingering on his tongue, and coughing one last time as he pushed himself up to his knees, “How did you get out here so early?” 

“I asked to go out for errands with Henry,” He said, opening the bag and pulling an extra shirt from it to toss at him. “I had to promise to cover for him tonight to sneak off with some…servant girl.” He explained, waving dismissively. 

Benjicot used his sleeve to wipe his mouth, slowly moving to pull down the straps of his breeches and pull off the soiled shirt. He let out a breathless scoff, “That sounds nice.” He replied, delirious from exhaustion as he tossed the shirt beside him. He took the clean shirt and pulled it over his head, stumbling to his feet and nearly toppling forward, prompting Emrys to rush forward and catch him by his elbow in an attempt to steady him. 

“Have you eaten anything?” Emrys asked. 

Benjicot gestured to where he had thrown up with his chin, a hand raking through his hair. His cousin glanced to where he pointed, grimacing in disgust and releasing him, “Tried to.” He grumbled.

“Come. I was able to bring you something.” He sighed, his face still pinched up in disgust as Benjicot turned to follow him. The two men entered the tent, Emrys’ hand out and ready to catch Benjicot in case he tripped again; the eldest of the two sitting in his blankets. 

The blonde sat across from him, sliding the bag from his shoulders and placing it down in front of his cousin, allowing him to open it and though Ben’s stomach was still churning, he couldn’t deny the grumble as he opened it and began to dig through it. With dirty hands, he pulled out a bun and let out a sigh, euphoric as he bit into it and paused to relish in the much-needed change of things—  after two days of leaf, grain, and the odd thin fish he had been lucky to catch with his hands, bread seemed like a commodity that Ben had never thought to be grateful for. 

As he chewed, tearing bites from the bun, his hand continued to rummage through the bag; holding the bun momentarily between his teeth as he pulled out a cloth, unwrapping it. He fought the urge to groan aloud at the sight of a small roast duck, the smell wafting through the tent as he set the bun aside and tore off a piece with his hands, ravenous and feral as he ate, “Gods be good, slow down-- you look disgusting, you know that?” Emrys said, though his tone was laced with a light sense of humour as he moved to unsheath something from his waist.

Ben let out a grunt, hardly containing himself as he bit into the duck, his eyes lifting briefly. He watched as his cousin presented a leather flask from his side, opening it and extending it to his cousin, whose hands practically trembled as he took it from him. He lifted the flask to his mouth, greeted by the sweet, bitter taste of wine from home that melted any remaining tension from his shoulders as he gulped down two mouthfuls before placing it down on the ground beside him. 

The two men sat in silence, besides the sound of Benjicot eating, birds chirping with the day -- if not for the circumstances, Ben would have found it all peaceful and calming. 

After a few moments, Benjicot spoke through a full mouth, “Has there been any news?” He asked, taking another swig from the flask and finishing what little remained. 

Emrys hesitated, staring at him, “Nothing new, Amos sent ravens to Grover Tully and your father.” He said, shifting to pull his knees up to his chest and resting his elbows over them. “They know about Rodrik. They know of your hand in it. Our plan wasn’t successful.” He quietly added. 

Benjicot raised his eyebrows, sniffling a bitter laugh, “As I suspected.” He said, returning the lid to the flask and tossing it back to his cousin who caught it and swiftly attached it to his belt. 

“It was a good idea.” 

“And you thought you would outsmart Samwell Blackwood, with your boyish plans, aye?” He asked, pausing his eating to look at him. “You thought he wouldn’t see through your stupid little—“ Benjicot snapped. 

“Oi, I get you're angry, but don’t take it out on me.” Emrys bit back. 

He settled, falling silent briefly, “Sorry.” 

They fell into silence again, Benjicot’s stomach-churning once again at the thought of his father’s reaction when he received the raven. He resorted to picking at the duck, his eyes down, “He’s furious, right?” 

Emrys snorted, but the sound did not possess any trace of humour, “He was ready to burn down everything in sight in search of you, he almost came out here and dragged you back himself.” 

He looked up, “Why didn’t he?” 

His cousin shifted uncomfortably, shrugging his shoulders.

“Kermit insisted he be the one to bring you back and pleaded on your behalf. He knows you will return eventually,” He explained. “Your father has given him until the end of the day to bring you back.” The younger man admitted. 

“Did he now?” He rhetorically questioned. 

Emrys let out a hum, quiet as he looked down at his shoes, “Elmo has suggested they break off the terms of your engagement, too.” 

Benjicot stilled, looking at him for a moment before he set down the rest of the duck back into the cloth, wiping his hands off on his pants. His mouth opened, hardly able to hear over the sound of blood thundering in his ears as he spoke, “Why?” He asked, mouth dry. If his father wasn’t already furious over the unnecessary bloodshed, this would have tipped him over the edge, blinded by rage — Benjicot could picture his room a mess, tearing through it and shouting as he threw whatever his hands could find. 

Emrys glanced out through the entrance into the tent, partially ajar as a breeze blew through the fields, “He doesn’t trust you.” He admitted, looking at him. “He feels you have broken your promise to keep Serra safe from harm, and rather, have placed her directly in its path. It has brought into question your loyalties.” 

Benjicot averted his gaze, looking at the roof of his tent as his breathing quickened. He swallowed, trying to organise his thoughts, “I did not…” He stuttered, looking down again. He was reminded of the pin that hid in a pile of his belongings in the corner, suddenly regretting not leaving it in the fields with Rodrik where it should have been. His nausea had returned, fighting down the urge to retch as he let out a choked sound, “I did not mean for it to happen this way. I did not mean to kill him, you believe me, right?” He asked, his words coming quick with panic as he looked at him again. 

Emrys' shoulders dropped, his expression softening, “I know.” 

“Then you know I would never do anything to jeopardise our alliance with the Tullys and sabotage our agreement.” He stated.

Emrys hesitated, looking down at his hands, “Emrys, please…” Benjicot begged, his cousin still avoiding his eyes. “I…I lost my temper, I did not want any of this. I have made a lot of mistakes in my life, both in my name and in our houses, but I never meant for things to turn out like this. You have to believe me.” He pleaded, breathless. 

“Did you do it?” He asked suddenly. 

Benjicot looked at him, confused by his words. Of course, Emrys knew that he had been responsible for Rodrik’s death — he had been there to witness it and had helped move the body from their land, but the edge in his voice suggested more, “His sister— did you bed his sister?” He asked, tone harsher as though he was losing his patience. 

He stammered, unsure how to answer, his thoughts going a thousand miles an hour. He had forgotten that he had been present for that too, bearing witness not just to his death, but the accusation as well, “Did you father a bastard with a Bracken?” He asked finally. It seemed to click into place why the accusation had even come up, or how Rodrik had come to know of their affair and his comment, sitting back on his knees in defeat. He felt his face drain of colour, his mouth snapping shut and swallowing, “Those mongrels have done nothing but steal from us and treat us like shit on their boots. They have killed our men for hundreds of years, and you would father a bastard with one?” 

“I did not mean to.” He quietly answered, his voice cracking. “I cared for her at one time. It’s a mistake that I am forced to live with every day, one that I wish I could undo but I…I cannot deny that it is a possibility.” 

“You cared for her?” He asked with a bitter laugh. 

His face dropped, pausing before he replied, “Yes.” 

Emrys, in his inexperience with love, could not quite make sense of the coupling but the look on Benjicot’s face caused him to hesitate. He looked at him, the frown on his face frozen there as he processed the confession, clenching his jaw and letting out a breath, “And what of Serra?” 

Benjicot hesitated, “It is complicated…this was before her.” 

“Do you care for her?” He asked, correcting himself, his voice stern. “Is she where your loyalties lie now?” 

He hesitated again, pondering the question, “Yes.” He breathed out. 

He could see his cousin’s expression soften, averting his eyes as he looked down briefly and sighed. Emrys moved, rolling forward and pushing to stand up in front of him, Benjicot’s eyes following his movements; hanging in a place of anxiety and worry that he had not said or done enough. Emrys bent to collect his bag, replacing it around his shoulders and beginning to exit the tent just as he quickly stumbled after him, clamouring to his knees and rushing out behind him, “Emrys, wait.” 

The blonde paused, stopping abruptly in front of him and looking up towards the sky with a squint, “Do you forgive me?” He asked. 

His cousin paused, shoulders dropping with another sigh, “Yes.” He said after a moment, “And I think the gods will too, in time. You’re a good man, Benjicot, I have never doubted that. I just wish…” He said, turning to him. 

“I wish you would forgive yourself, too.” He said, reaching out to clasp his shoulder, “Come back. Let us face it together. We will figure it out.” 

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

Serra had always been taught as a girl to not concern herself with a man’s business—  that men had their separate duties to that of a woman. Men prioritised the political matters of the house and women did the rest—  bearing children, taking care of the house, supporting their husbands, and being loyal, dutiful wives and mothers, just as her mother had been. But it did not contain the curiosity that piqued in her every so often whenever she saw her father and brothers disappear to their meetings, followed by councilmen who were loyal to them only and hanging on to their every word like it was gospel. To be heard and valued, Serra had always wondered what that felt like to possess such power. 

It didn’t stop her from listening from outside the hall whenever they gathered for the day, eavesdropping in the hallways, and listening carefully to the gossip of the staff of the house —  in her ten-and-eight years, she found that listening to the staff served useful and provided her with intel on topics her father would otherwise dismiss her of whenever she tried to ask at dinner. 

Today had been no different, as she sat on the bottom step, her hands in her lap and picking at her nails as she listened to the intense arguing happening from within the great hall, where she had watched her family disappear early that morning. Despite his gentle protests, Alistair stood opposite of her, perched in a corner as she listened. 

“Amos’ letter claims that your son was at the borders that night,” Elmo’s voice echoed from within the room. “He claims that his men hold Benjicot responsible for Rodrik’s death—  I had only assumed with your restraint, Benjicot might take after you in such ways, but I am starting to question whether you have any control over your son.”

“Benjicot is an impulsive boy,” Samwell replied, his irritation evident in his voice. “You have known this since he was young.” 

“And yet I expected with your guidance, he would outgrow it. I was wrong, it appears.” 

“I cannot be held responsible for every stupid thing he does,” Samwell argued. 

“This is not a stupid thing, Samwell -- do you know how poorly this reflects on our house? I have never questioned your house’s loyalty, but I feel the need to begin.”

Her father sounded angry and disappointed -- from her place on the stairs, she could picture the furrow of his brow, angry as he leaned over the table, “Not only does your son insult our house by slaughtering Amos’ nephew, but to further add insult to the wound, he has also fathered a bastard according to Amos Bracken's letter!” 

“My son would do no such thing.” Samwell barked, interrupting any further accusations. “My son may be impulsive and stupid, but to accuse him of fathering a child with a Bracken-- ” 

“Amos says otherwise.” 

The revelation caused Serra to snap her head upright, wide-eyed, and lean towards the door as she could faintly make out the sound of hushed mutters, angry and going back and forth. Her eyes darted to Alistair who purposely avoided her eyes, his gaze fixed on the wall and unwavering as she slowly stood, inching towards the door and crouching to press her ear to it, “I don’t ask for much, other than you declare your loyalty to House Tully-- have I not been generous these past months?” 

There is a mutter, “You have.”

“And have I not only also asked that Benjicot care for and protect my only daughter?” 

“Yes, my lord.”

It was an odd sound coming from Lord Blackwood, to be small and quiet to a voice of authority that was not his own; but it was not often that her father used that voice. She struggled to envision what it looked like to sit in and witness him, submissive to her father as he was stern and flipping the roles.  

“You know, Lord Grover did not want this betrothal. He, even from his deathbed, fights and pleads that I do not go forward with it-- he cautioned me against it actually,” Her father ranted, exasperated. “But I pushed back. I defended you, I defended your son. I fought for him to see reason, that you have one of the largest armies within the Riverlands… that you are a fierce warrior and leader with experience and insight that could be beneficial to House Tully. All that despite your history of impulsivity and your temper-- which I see, Benjicot has taken after instead.” Elmo spat. 

“My Lord…” 

“I am starting to realise he may have been right! As senile as he might be,” Elmo spluttered a bitter laugh. 

“We can still fix this.” 

It was then, amidst the hushed mutters, that Serra could make out the soft voice of a woman -- her words were quiet, not quite reaching her ears as she shifted her stance. 

“And how do you plan to do that? You cannot bring his nephew back from the dead, you cannot rid the child from his niece’s womb! I should have accepted the offer for Serra to wed Aeron Bracken, you know that?” Elmo shouted, a clatter of silverware echoing from the room. The room fell back into silence, as though the room had frozen in time, only broken by her father’s annoyed sigh as footsteps echoed, coming towards the door. Serra launched up to her feet and turned, ready to rush up the stairs and out of sight as she assumed her father had called an early end to the meeting and would come out any moment however she hardly made it three steps before the doors opened as she expected, her hand reaching out for the wall as she nearly tripped over the hem of her dress. 

“Serra Tully.” The voice was surprisingly smooth and feminine, causing her to whip around towards the voice. 

Her eyes found a thin woman who resembled the men of her house — striking in appearance, with dark hair and eyes that bore into her with such intensity, that it pinned her to her very spot. Her gaze absentmindedly scanned her frame, finding riding gear in place of the expected gowns of red and black; tall and slender, as she stood halfway in the doorway and watched her. Serra’s eyes darted back to her face, mouth once ajar now clenching shut. She could have recognised her anywhere, recalling the few memories she had of her in their youth, being that she was so close in age to them; she always seemed to be in the yard, engulfed in her training, but Serra had encountered her a handful of times — her voice, though lower and softer than it had been as children, still held its familiar edge that brought back memories of warning her nephew whenever he stepped out of line. She seemed to be the only force that could keep him grounded, regardless of how rowdy and wild he could become. 

“Lady Alysanne.” 

Her eyes cast to her left in the direction of the room of men that remained uncharacteristically quiet, before stepping further into the hallway and in the direction of the stairs -- Serra could faintly see the hint of a smile on her face, “You have grown much since I last saw you.” 

“It has been many years.” Serra politely replied, her voice quiet as though she was worried her father would overhear her. She had already overstepped and been caught eavesdropping, she did not need to make things worse. 

“Indeed it has,” Alysanne nodded, pausing. “Come, join us.” 

Confusion arose in Serra at her invitation, her head tilting as she opened her mouth to protest, “Oh- I…I don’t know anything about the matters of council.” 

Alysanne’s smile widened, “Now seems as good a time to learn then. You have thoughts and opinions, don’t you?” She asked. 

“Of course, but none that possess any value at a table of men,” Serra replied. 

“That is plenty enough. It is not a suggestion, Serra.” Alysanne quickly added, ceasing any further protests she could muster. She extended an expectant hand to her, the young girl’s gaze dropping to it. Serra was slow in descending the stairs, back towards the doors, and meeting the Blackwood at the bottom of the steps at which point she felt a hand come between her shoulders to guide her inside.

The room turned to watch as they entered, side by side, all eyes focused on her. The urge arose to turn and flee, uncomfortable under the eyes of the several men who sat around the table; her father stood at the head of it, with his face screwed up into a look of disapproval but she was forced forward by Alysanne—  she wasn’t convinced that if she did try, she would allow her to get far, and would just drag her right back. Her hand led her towards a seat across from Samwell, two open chairs awaiting them, timidly finding herself to one. Alysanne soon sat beside her, a hand coming up to give her elbow a reassuring squeeze. 

Her father finally sat down, his eyes never leaving her as a few moments passed; the tension in the room was palpable enough to slice through as she slowly lifted her gaze to scan the room. She soon met the familiar eyes of Oscar, who sat only a few seats down from her, his gaze possessing an evident uncertainty. 

“Oh, this is just absurd!” A councilman, Robard Mooton, cried. “She is just a girl, what does she know that could serve this council? Let us not waste any more time and…”

“She knows more than she lets on.” Alysanne interrupted, her tone calm. “Doesn’t she?” She pointedly questioned. 

Serra felt her eyes on her, hers lowering to the table. 

“What do you know of recent events, Serra?” Her father asked, sighing and dropping a hand from his mouth onto the table. She turned to look at him, her hands balling in her lap as he nodded encouragingly. 

She hesitated, “I know of Benjicot’s involvement in the death of Rodrik Bracken.” She replied, her voice small amidst the room. “Amos Bracken has made several accusations against House Blackwood and its heir.” 

“She listened from outside the door, how does this help?” Robard continued, losing patience. 

“Criston Cole has allegedly called for men to march west.” She admitted. 

Her father inhaled, leaning back in his chair, “And you understand the position this puts us in.” 

She slowly nodded, watching him carefully for any sign that she was wrong and overstepped, “You also know your grandfather means to break off your engagement to Lord Benjicot Blackwood for his hand in his death, too.” Aldric Vance spoke up, her eyes darting to find him -- an older man her father’s age, his eyes kind as he stared at her; awaiting a response. Serra nodded again. 

“We would like your insight on the matters,” Her father said, leaning forward against the table and resting his elbows atop the wood, holding a hand out to her. Serra tensed, blinking a couple of times before she reluctantly offered him a hand that he took, his eyes searching her face.

“Why?” She asked, her voice small. 

“Because it is your betrothal in question, my dove.” He softly replied. “I will not force your hand if it is not what you desire, I only mean to protect you from further ruin.” 

Serra recognised the hypocrisy of the situation, considering that it had been him who had pressured her into this position, to begin with. She lowered her eyes again, staring at their hands, quiet as she pondered his offer to end things, “Should you say the word, we can return to Riverrun in the morrow.” He quietly stated. 

She sucked in a breath, unsure how to answer. The silence stretched on as she weighed the option —  she admittedly missed the comfort of her childhood rooms, Riverrun, and its familiar sounds and sights. 

“She’s just a nosy girl,” Robard snapped. “I told you she was of no use to this table. Let us just end this engagement and be done with this grotesque misalliance-- we will extend an offer of peace to Amos Bracken, and if he is merciful enough, he will reconsider a marriage between his nephew and Serra.” He rambled. 

“Give the girl a moment.” Alysanne snapped, her gaze fixated on the man who stood. “You are too invested in ending this engagement, I feel it necessary to remind you, that you are not the one who will be expected to bed him.” She spat, her eyes narrowing. 

Serra looked between the two with wide eyes, “Though I am beginning to wonder if that is your preference for bedding young boys,” Alysanne continued, taunting the man who now seethed from his place down the table. “I suppose I am not one to judge, however, considering your earlier accusations, Lord Robard.” 

“You wretched cunt!” He finally exploded, rushing to lunge across the table towards Alysanne, a mild level of pandemonium ensuing as men clattered to grab the Lord Mooton, pulling him back. Serra’s attention was drawn to a quiet snort across the table, finding Samwell with his head down and a small smile on his face, his gaze fixed down on his lap as he appeared to fidget with something there. His gaze lifted, looking around the table and watching as Lord Robard was yanked back towards his seat, briefly finding Serra and his younger sister who sat beside her. 

“That is enough!” Elmo bellowed, his voice loud and thundering, “I demand a level of decorum be maintained while we try to figure out what is to happen! Lady Alysanne, Lord Robard, return to your seats!” 

The room quieted, Serra’s eyes watching as the council slowly found themselves back to their spots around the table, a hum of mutters and grumbles filling the room, “Samwell, I would ask that you remind your bitch sister that she is a guest here at this council.” Lord Robard spat. 

“Lord Robard, enough!” Elmo snapped, releasing Serra’s hand. “I will have no more insults at this table today.” 

Alysanne dropped back into her seat, letting out a scoff as she leaned back in her chair. Serra watched the look exchanged between the two Blackwood siblings, Samwell’s expression a look of pride and amusement as he looked back down quickly, a lopsided grin on Alysanne’s face as she rolled her eyes. 

Her father allowed for a moment of silence as the rest of the table settled back into their seats, whatever conversation that lingered soon ceasing, even Lord Robard finally quieting; despite the scowl on his face, his gaze still watching the raven-haired woman to her left. Elmo finally looked back to Serra, sighing, “Serra. Any thoughts?”

She hesitated, heart racing as she was yet again placed on the spot, “I…” She stuttered, swallowing. She scanned the table again, briefly meeting Samwell’s gaze as he continued his fidgeting -- she could now see what had previously held his attention underneath the table; his hands absentmindedly twirling a dagger as he watched her, its blade catching a glimmer of light as it moved between his right and left. She looked at her father, “House Tully has always been a house of their word…and I suppose Lord Benjicot has never given us any other reason to doubt his loyalties, otherwise. I do not see any reason to not see our agreement through.” She quietly explained, trying to feign some level of confidence as she sat up straight, squaring her shoulders. 

Her father paused, mouth opening as if he wanted to say something. Instead, he nodded, “It is settled then,” He muttered. “House Blackwood and Benjicot will be expected to fix this mess. We will see to it our end of the prior agreement—  that will be all for this afternoon.” He sighed, dismissively waving a hand. 

Despite his dismissal, the table did not yet move. Instead, they stared at him for a moment longer, sharing looks before they slowly began to stand; Serra finding a hand wrapping again around her elbow and gently squeezing. Her eyes found Alysanne looking at her, who offered her a small smile that she reciprocated with a forced, tight smile that dropped quickly, eager to get out of there as she pushed up from her chair. She moved with her head down as she gathered her skirts in her hands with a tight grip and shoved by the men who were slow to leave, a hushed whisper over the room. 

As she reemerged into the hallway, she was met by Alistair who waited for her; his head bowing as she approached. He was close on her heels as she hurried towards the stairs, wanting to put as much space between herself and the great hall as she could, and not look back -- she didn’t feel confident in her choice, but there would be no turning back now. She would be married in two days to Benjicot Blackwood. 

She wasn’t sure if she was nauseous with regret, but her hands felt clammy as they wiped against her bodice, her eyes focused straight ahead as she walked. She had barely made it two steps before she tripped over one of the stairs, catching herself with her hands against another step, her ribs colliding with the marble stairs as she tumbled forward and felt the air knocked from her lungs as she clung to the step; cold against her palms that screamed in agony as the dirt and stone embed itself into her hands, her face hot and red as she choked for air, “My Lady.” Alistair gasped, rushing forward. 

She felt his hands on her shoulders, hearing a rush of footsteps as Oscar appeared at her side, “Serra?” 

She shook her head, waving their hands away as Alistair withdrew his hands quickly; Oscar resting one against her spine, “I’m fine-- I am okay.” She breathed out, still trying to catch her breath as she awkwardly hurried back onto her feet. Her brother’s hands remained close, despite her words, his eyebrows furrowed. 

“Should I call for the maester?” Alistair asked.

Oscar held her elbow as she wiped her hands off on her dress, scraped and red, but otherwise unharmed; her hair falling into her face as she smoothed out her clothing. She quickly shook her head, “Are you all right?” Oscar asked. 

“I am fine, I just…” She breathed. “It’s just been a long day, I am tired. It was a mistake.” She insisted. 

“Do you want us to get Maester Edric?” He asked. 

“No, I am fine. I just need rest.” Serra insisted. “Do not bother him, it was just a slip.” 

Oscar’s eyebrow rose, “Are you sure?” 

“I just want to go back to my room,” She pleaded. Her brother hesitantly nodded, waving Alistair back down as he laced her arm through his, beginning to lead her up the stairs; relief washing over her as she used her free hand to lift and brush back her hair when a shout echoed from the yard. 

“Fight back, you fucking coward!” Kermit screamed. 

Her wide-eyed gaze looked at her younger brother, his arm withdrawing from hers as he turned to look towards the front doors that sat open; the sound of shouting continued from the yard, “Alistair, take Serra to her rooms.” 

“What is that?” She asked. 

“Go to your room,” Her brother instructed. 

“No, wait—  let me come,” She begged, watching as he turned and bolted from the stairs. The men who had gathered in the foyer all appeared to hear the commotion too, turning to crane their heads towards the noise as they piled towards the yard, her father and Samwell shoving through them to rush outside along with Oscar. Her head was spinning, but she hurried down the stairs and past the men, using her elbows to shove through the mass; her cheeks burning as she felt Alistair reach for her to pull her away. 

“My lady!” 

She ran into her father’s back as he held out an arm to catch her, preventing her from going too far as she reached the front steps; her eyes over his shoulder, his hand grabbing her wrist and pinning her against his side. She had to lean around him, half stepping to the side and craning her head to watch as Kermit stood over Benjicot; several other men surrounding them on their horses and watching as Kermit struck the young Lord, whilst Benjicot knelt before him and visibly defeated as he took the hit. His head snapped to the side with such force it caused her to cringe, hair falling into his face and covering his eyes as he spit into the grass -- his nose was already pouring blood, staining the front of his shirt as her eldest brother circled him. 

“I said fight me, dammit!” 

Kermit’s foot rose, slamming into his shoulders from behind and knocking him forward into the grass. She let out a gasp, watching as Benjicot painfully writhed against the ground, struggling to push up onto his knees -- her brother panted, face screwed up in a rage, “Stop him!” Serra quietly cried out, desperately looking up at her father. He avoided her eyes, mouth ajar. Kermit stomped on Benjicot’s wrist, circling him again to stand before him.

“Get the fuck up!” Kermit screamed, bent over as he yelled. 

“He’s going to kill him.” Serra pleaded, gripping her father’s shoulder as she tried to shove past him, being pulled back by his arm again. 

“Wait.” Elmo insisted, his eyes still focused on the two boys. 

Benjicot’s head hung low as he brought a hand over his chest, gasping for air as he avoided lifting his eyes as he let out a weak, “No.”

She could see Kermit’s eyes widen, staring at him, dumbfounded, “You dishonour my sister, my house-- and now you won’t even fight me?” He asked.

“I will not fight ... my friend,” He panted, looking up at him. “I am innocent, I have done nothing to dishonour your house.” 

Her brother froze, shoulders tensing. His hand suddenly shot towards his hip, hand wrapping around the hilt of his sword and tearing it from its sheath to bring its sharp tip to his throat, forcing his chin upwards, “Liar!” 

“Kermit, that is enough!” Elmo finally ordered, releasing Serra and stepping down the stairs. 

Her brother stopped, his lunge cut short as he stared at Benjicot, holding each other’s gaze. Slowly, his eyes drifted towards the crowd that watched, his hand clenching so tight around the sword, his knuckles turned white as his hand shook, “Sheath your sword.” Their father instructed. 

Kermit hesitated, but did not yet lower his weapon, "Put it away." Elmo repeated, firmer this time. His mouth twitched, looking back and forth between his father and the Blackwood in front of him. The blade dropped quickly, Benjicot flinching as the tip nicked him as it dropped, his shoulders slumping whilst Kermit returned the sword to his sheath. There was a hushed series of whispers from the council, "Where have you been, boy?"

Benjicot collected himself before responding, his eyes moving with Kermit as he stormed away from him and towards his father, “The woods, my lord.” He admitted. 

“For the past two days?” Elmo asked.

Serra waited, her eyes on Kermit as he went to stand in front of her before she rushed forward, her feet dragging her toward Benjicot. She could feel the eyes on her back as she found herself at his side, kneeling beside him and immediately beginning to assess the small cut at his throat; the rich shade of blood oozing from the edges. Her head ducked, taking his chin into her hand, “Yes.” Benjicot breathlessly answered. 

“What has brought you back?” Her father asked. 

She glanced over her shoulder, meeting Kermit’s discontent stare as his hand remained at the sword on his hip. She looked back at Benjicot, finding his eyes as she quickly reached for the scarf that she had given him two days prior, tucked in his belt and hurrying to bring it to his throat against the wound.

“I have come to declare my innocence and clear my name.” He replied, his eyes tearing away from her. 

Elmo paused, “Speak, boy.” 

Benjicot pushed her hand away from his neck, visibly wincing as he shifted his weight to his left knee, "My lords, before you, I swear on the Old Gods and the New that I am innocent of these vile accusations that bind my name to Myrna Bracken. By the gods above and the earth below, I have not dishonoured my betrothed, Lady Serra, nor sullied my family’s honour with such treachery."

He paused, his breath laboured but his resolve unbroken. "Rodrik Bracken met his end by my hand, but it was no premeditated act of malice. It was in defence of the honour of House Blackwood and House Tully when he hurled false accusations and sought to drag Serra and I’s union. I struck him down in the heat of the moment, driven not by hatred, but by the duty to protect what is sacred—our families, our honour."

Benjicot's voice grew firmer as he continued, "But if there is doubt in your hearts, if my words are not enough, then let me prove my innocence by the blade. I stand here ready to offer my life, to face trial by combat, and to fight for the truth that lies within my soul. Should I fall, let it be known that I did so with loyalty to Serra and to House Tully, willing to sacrifice all to uphold the bonds that unite us."

His gaze swept over the assembly, his tone resolute. "I stand before you, not as a man seeking mercy, but as one committed to the truth. I will go to battle, and if need be, I will lay down my life to prove that my honour, my loyalty, and my dedication for Serra remain untainted and true."

Serra’s gaze had been fixed on him the entire time he spoke, hanging onto his every word; her heart pounding beneath her ribs and holding her breath. Once he was done speaking, her eyes shifted to look towards her father who watched him with narrowed eyes, his jaw clenching and scanning the boy in front of him from head to toe; weighing his words. 

“That will not be necessary for now,” Elmo finally replied after what felt like hours. It did not fall on deaf ears as Kermit scoffed and shoved his way back inside, finding Lord Robard scowling too at her father as he watched him from the corner of his eye, “Heed my warning, though, should you misstep again; I will have your head.” 

Benjicot nodded, a meek gesture as he slumped forward, visibly relieved as he fell into Serra’s side. Her hand came up to his chest, buried among the fabric of his clothing and becoming sticky with blood that dampened his shirts, holding him up as he let out a breath. She did not want to rush him to his feet as he wiped his nose which continued to bleed. 

Her father found her eyes, but he quickly averted them and turned away from her to head back inside. With the last of the men trickling in behind him, Serra sought Alistair, finding him by the doorway and already coming towards her, “Alistair, please help me-- help me bring him inside.” She pleaded as her arm slid under his and wrapped around his ribs. 

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

“You do not have to mother me, Serra.” He sighed, wincing as she turned him by the cheek to dab a cloth against his cheekbone; swollen with a bruise that was already beginning to form. 

Her eyes remained on his face, focused and frowning as she uttered a soft ‘sh’. His nose had ceased bleeding finally after pinching it by the bridge, tender under her touch when they had returned to her room; ushering Alistair to the door. She knew it was risky to bring him to her room, but she felt there were no other options right now -- the councilmen still lingered, and her family hovered, eager to tear her away from him. She needed space to work away from prying eyes, refusing any further help she deemed unnecessary. 

She stood between his knees, with Benjicot planted on the edge of her bed and a cloth between his hands as his cloak had been tossed behind him. His eyes screwed shut, letting out a frustrated sigh as she wiped the blood from his face, a bowl of water nearby on a stool that she had pulled to her feet from in front of the fireplace that was lit. He had fared better than she worried besides a small cut to his face from where Kermit’s ring had made contact, bruised; a bloody nose, and the nick under his chin that she had since cleaned up to inspect. It, too, had already begun to clot and slow. However, she couldn’t help but wonder what lay underneath his clothing -- an idea that while not intended as sexual, still felt shameful and dirty to even cross her mind. She could only imagine the boot prints that littered his skin from where her brother kicked him similar to the one against his sword hand, not brave enough to even consider asking to check; but she knew he was tender and bruised beneath his clothing, having listened to him wince and cry out when she and Alistair dragged him up the stairs and down the halls to her room. 

“Stay still,” She quietly ordered, bringing the edge of the cloth to the angry red imprint just shy of his eye. 

Benjicot let out a hiss, flinching as his hand shot up to catch her by the wrist, “It’s fine.” He insisted. 

She huffed, dropping her hand to her side. Her hand blindly extended to dip into the bowl, ringing and squeezing out any excess water, “It’s not fine.” She replied, her eyes scanning his face. “You could have at least fought back. If you had just stayed and not gone to the borders, none of this would have happened. I told you no good would come of this.” 

“I couldn’t,” He said, looking up at her. “You know I couldn’t.” 

“And you think you were better off letting my brother nearly beat you to death? Going to the borders and making a mess of things? Are things not worse than they were?” She asked, scoffing. 

“He wouldn’t have killed me,” Benjicot replied, withdrawing when she attempted to bring the cloth back to his face -- she sighed and dropped her hand, shooting him a warning look. “He only did what I deserved. I had to go, you know that.” He said. 

He barely had time to react as her hand came up behind him, grabbing him by the nape and forcing his head forward, the cloth coming up to his nose to dab at some dried blood at the edge of his nostril, “You think you deserve death?” She asked, her voice hardly above a mutter. 

“Maybe,” He admitted. 

“I doubt that.” 

“You don’t know what I did.” 

She hesitated, her eyes briefly meeting his, “I know enough.” She said, resuming her actions. They were both quiet for a moment, her touch delicate as she gently scrubbed him clean, “What did he even do to provoke such violence?” She finally asked. 

The thought of violence always felt unnecessary to her -- it never seemed warranted, unless there was some threat that was life or death. It had been a thought that lingered in the back of her head since the news had reached Raventree, but she never quite dared to ask. But something about their isolated presence, away from the noise of councilmen and the watchful eye of her father, left her with just enough to finally ask now that they were alone.

“You know enough,” He replied, throwing her words back in her face. She pressed against his nose, deliberate and annoyed, earning a hiss. “Don’t be like that.” He warned, attempting to withdraw from her again. 

“I am just trying to understand you, Benjicot.” She shot back, ceasing her actions. “Did it have anything to do with his sister?” 

He looked up at her, hesitating, “He said something about how you were to be married to Aeron and some other stupid shit.” He said, dismissing the topic. Serra was not oblivious to how he avoided the question. 

“What of it?” She asked. 

“What?” 

“Aeron and I.” She calmly asked, gesturing him forward again. He was reluctant, relenting with a sigh and letting her turn his face from one side to the next, moving his hair out of the way to scan for any other marks, “What of it?”

“I don’t know.” He answered. “Is it true?” 

“Yes.” 

He looked at her, his right eye twitching as he appeared visibly confused by her honesty, “It was long before the prospect of you and me when I was ten-and-five.” She explained, voice softening. “My father only meant to get me away from Riverrun after my mother had passed, he wanted to protect me from his grief. I spent weeks begging him not to, and to let me stay.” 

“And he changed his mind?” 

She smiled, a small half-smile that did not quite reach her eyes as she looked down at him, “No. Kermit convinced him to reconsider. I was not ready to leave Riverrun and he knew that better than anyone.” 

Her hand dropped from his face, the hand at his nape finding rest on his shoulder, “Did you ever wish things turned out differently and that you had married him?” He asked. 

Her smile faltered, “Yes, at one point.” She admitted, causing his eyebrows to shoot up. Her shoulders shook with a laugh as her smile returned, “You have not exactly been the…easiest man to warm up to.” 

His mouth opened, tempted to challenge her but he knew she was right -- there was no denying that he had been difficult and terrible since she had arrived. How she overlooked it baffled him. He let out a short laugh, a choked sound as he rolled his eyes, “And now? Do you think you would have been happier with him?” He asked after a moment. 

“Mm,” She hummed. “I’m not sure. If it had been by my choice, I would have been happy living in a small, modest home in the woods, away from the chaos of politics and men.” She said, her voice lilting with humour. 

She brought her hand back up, touching the cloth to his eye one last time. He grabbed her wrist again, stopping her, “I’m serious.” He said, searching her eyes.

She blinked, gaze averting towards the writing table that had been shoved against the wall. She seemed to think about it, narrowing her eyes for half a second before her eyes returned to him, “I would not change anything.” Serra softly answered. “I think I have come to accept it and be happy with things as they are-- good and bad, I am content.” 

Benjicot felt a sense of relief at her words, nodding slowly. 

 She set down the cloth back into its bowl of water, the liquid now pink with blood, as she eyed his face; observing the bruises and wounds of her brother. She had yet to step back from her place between his legs, but there seemed to be an invisible string that held her there, tethered to him and lifting a hand to touch just below the wound beneath his eye with a light thumb that still elicited a wince of pain as his eyebrows furrowed whilst his eyes shut briefly. He sucked in a breath through his nose, his face turning away from her, "Sorry." She softly said, withdrawing her hand quickly.

“No, it’s okay,” he said, voice quiet amidst the room. His eyes slowly opened, squinting as he looked up at her, finding her gaze still on his face, “thank you.” 

“For?” She replied. 

“For being so kind to me. I know I don’t deserve it.” He admitted, a hand coming up to rest on her hip. Her gaze lowered towards the small bit of space between them. 

“I think you’ve been handed enough cruelty in your life, Benjicot.” She softly said, her left hand rising boldly to touch his forehead, brushing back the overgrown hair that hung there in his face as she found his eyes again. Her hand dropped, fingers tracing along the shape of his face and outlining his cheekbone; Benjicot’s gaze remained on her. A flush of colour spread across his cheeks, mouth parting as though he wanted to speak, but rendered silent as his eyes closed, inhaling deeply and embracing the warmth of her touch. There were very few things in the realm that could silence him, but something about the gentleness of her hand accomplished it as he leaned into it, face turning towards her palm and letting out a sigh. Her hand fully cupped his cheek, her other hand lifting to mirror it and holding his face between them as her thumbs skimmed over the skin beneath them. 

Up close, she finally had an opportunity to observe him for all that he was — though it had only been two days since she had seen him, she felt he was changed; both in the way he carried himself and his appearance. The boyish, clean-shaven appearance having been abandoned in the woods, and returning a man-grown, the facial hair that peppered his chin and spread across his upper lip alluded to maturity. Her right thumb brushed his cheek, prickled by stubble as the pad of the digit glided across the skin. Up close, she admired the imperfections that made Benjicot the man he was. From the scar that stretched from his upper lip to nose, his crooked nose — and the eyes, striking and green in the light as they opened to look up at her, his shoulders rising and falling with a deep breath. 

He stood suddenly, towering over her and nearly driving her back into the stool that held the bowl of bloodied water, his hands lifting to hold her waist — his hold was loose, and bordering cautious as though he was trying to be as delicate with her as possible. His gaze never left her face as he moved, her left hand moving to absentmindedly rest against his bicep as she stared up at him, her eyebrows furrowing and using her other hand to plant against his shoulder. She watched in silence as his gaze scanned her face, slow and taking in every feature with such intensity, that it felt almost too intimate a moment for an unwed couple to share — the whole situation could appear questionable should anyone have barged in at that moment, the pair of them clinging to one another, alone and heavy breathing. One hand rose to cup her face, drawing her closer to him until his breath fanned hot across her lips, her ribs pressed against his as she sucked in a deep breath. 

His mouth pressed to hers with such force it caused her to stumble back a step, only steadied by his hands as his kiss practically sucked the air from her lungs, the hand at his shoulder finding the nape of his neck. Serra was half dragged onto the balls of her feet, falling into him as her fingers dug themselves into the root of his hair, desperate to ground herself somehow as she clutched onto him as if her life depended on it — the actions earned a carnal moan that reverberated from deep within his chest, his hands creeping up to the small of her back. She felt the way he pulled her into him, like he was trying to embed her in his skin, desperate for closeness whilst she melted in his hands as his mouth found her throat. The foreign sensation set her skin ablaze, her mouth falling agape as his lips trailed down her throat and claimed her like he had any right, his hands tugging at her skirts and manhandling her. She let out a soft sigh as the cool air that permeated her room tickled the back of her thighs, her dress being tugged upwards when Benjicot stepped forward with his knee pressing between her legs, his fingers rough against the soft skin of her thighs, calloused and desperate. 

A knock echoed through the room, causing the two of them to jump, Serra breaking away from him first. She shoved his hands off her thighs, pushing her skirt back down and smoothing over the fabric as Alistair spoke up, “My lady?” He called from outside the door. 

There was a pause as she stared at Benjicot, wide-eyed and red-faced, with heavy breathing and flushed cheeks as she stumbled back and away from him. Benjicot was visibly dishevelled as he withdrew, leaning into her bed and mouth agape, sucking in air as he caught his breath, “Yes, Alistair?” Serra asked, breathless as she smoothed out her clothing and reached for the cloth that had been abandoned in the bowl. 

The door slowly opened, revealing the guard who had spent the past several days at her heel, his eyes immediately finding her and hesitating — he glanced at Benjicot who avoided his eyes by looking down at the floor, “I…have given you as much time as I can spare.” Ser Alistair said, looking back at her. “It is getting late. Lord Blackwood should be getting back to his chambers before anyone begins to question his absence.” He quietly explained, his gaze still fixed on the young Lord, who finally dared to look up; his mouth twitching, darting to glance up at Serra who let out a breath. 

She nodded, “Of course.” 

Benjicot stood, turning to collect his cloak that sat on her bed and taking it with him, “We were all done here, anyways,” He said, brushing past her and not giving her another glance as he made his way towards the door. “Thank you, Alistair.” He quietly said as he passed him and exited the room. The guard nodded, his eyes following him out the door as Serra dropped the rag back into the bowl of water and wiped her hands off on her dress. 

Alistair blinked a couple of times, unmoving but silent as she gathered the bowl and took a deep breath, sighing aloud as she approached him, “Could you discard this for me? I must be getting ready for bed.” She said, struggling to find his eyes. 

He took the bowl from her, his face creasing with a purse of his mouth and furrowing his brows, “My lady, if I may…speak plainly.” He quietly spoke. 

She paused, eyeing his face, “Yes, of course.” 

He avoided her eyes for a moment, clearing his throat, “I would advise you to be careful with…the time you spend alone with Lord Blackwood.” He slowly said. Serra felt the colour drain from her face as she frowned, “It could appear improper, is what I mean to say— should anyone question it.”

He knew.  Serra felt stupid enough to think he wouldn’t know or figure it out somehow. 

“Are you going to mention tonight to anyone?” She asked, her voice small with worry.

Alistair eyed her, his eyes finding hers. His features softened, “No. But it cannot happen again, I cannot guarantee I can protect you a second time should your father or brothers ask.”

Serra finally let out a sigh of relief, withdrawing and wiping her hands against her skirt again, though she radiated anxiety as she nodded, “Thank you.” 

Alistair’s head bowed, “Of course, my lady.” 

She watched as he turned and left, leaving her alone finally in her room and overcome with worry. Despite his words, she still felt a sense of unease as the door closed and turned to retreat towards her bed. She turned slowly, leaning back to sit down and flop into the bed, her arms at her side — though the action was disturbed by something pressing into her leg. She reached down, her hand blindly searching the blankets for a moment before her fingers met the cool metal; bringing it up into view and turning it in the light. Her eyes scanned the pin used to fasten a man’s cloak, recognizing the Bracken sigil as she turned it in between her fingers. She sat up from the bed, her feet planted against the ground as she pulled herself from the comfort of her blankets; her feet guiding her towards the fireplace. 

Her eyes turned towards the door momentarily as she stopped in front of the fire, warming her skin; listening for any sign of life beyond her room. When she was confident in the silence that she found, she looked back, her eyes on the flames as her hand propelled forward to toss the pin in; allowing the fire to engulf it.

TAGLIST: @username199945

@cxcilla

@thethiccestdaddy

@deltamoon666

@drwho-ess

@callsigncrushx

@clarityisnofun

@jhepolie

@juhdoche

@majoso12

@roseheart5

@nixtape-foryou

@poppyflower-22

@accidentpronedork

@tannyfairy

@maximizedrhythms

@deadunicorn159

@xlittlefiend

@frogoerson

[envysparkler]

So far, Jason’s return to Gotham was going horribly.

Sure, it had started on a high—the drug trade had been easier to take over than he’d expected, even if he had to hold back the nausea every time he saw a collection of syringes or packets of pills.  Black Mask had done exactly what Jason predicted he would do, and the Joker had escaped from Arkham exactly as planned.

And then Batman had looked him in the eyes—as Jason begged, as he pleaded his father to kill the greatest monster of Jason’s nightmares—and walked away.

Even the explosion he’d wired hadn’t managed to do its job—not on him, not on the clown, not on the Bat.

Jason had managed to recoup some of his losses by going after the Replacement—the kid that Bruce actually cared about, the black-haired blue-eyed heir he wanted—and proving that he was still the superior fighter, but it was a hollow victory.  There was no real satisfaction in trashing the Tower—it had never been his the way it had been Dick’s—and his enjoyment had soured by the time he met Drake’s wide, scared, hurt eyes and choked him out.

He’d managed to demonstrate that their security was laughable and their baby heroes pathetic, but he’d left a fifteen-year-old unconscious and beaten on the floor in the process.  It had left a bad taste in his mouth, one even the soothing, green-laced rage couldn’t wipe, and he could still hear the kid’s lost, confused, desperate voice.

“Jason—stop—why are you doing this?  Bruce loves you!  Just come home!”

In the moment, it had only stoked his fury.  Now it matched the roiling disgust in his stomach.  The disgust at Batman.  At the oh-so-sanctimonious heroes.  At this filthy, stinking garbage pile of a city.

At himself.

He—he needed a break.  From the violence.  From the killing.  From the rage.  He needed to get out of this fucking city before he lost his mind, and there was only a couple of things he wanted to take with him.

Unfortunately, some of them were in the Manor.

A photo of him and his mother.  The old, faded red hoodie Jason had refused to let Alfred throw out.  His books.

Before, Jason might’ve asked Bruce’s permission—before he broke into the Tower and beat up the kid—but now Jason was forced to wait until he got news that Bruce Wayne was in London for a business trip—coinciding neatly with the intel that the Justice League had a big, week-long space mission—before he dared to sneak into his old home.

He didn’t try his security codes.  They would’ve definitely fixed that after he pointed out that glaring mistake in Titans Tower.  But Jason had spent more than three years at the Manor, and he’d long since mastered getting into or out of the house without setting off any alarms.

The first bedroom after the stairs was the one with the window that didn’t latch all the way, and the security system couldn’t register whether it was open or closed.  It was a little difficult to reach, involving free-climbing up two floors, but Jason had been Robin and now had League training under his belt and it was easy to haul himself up on the ledge and jimmy the window open.

The bedroom remained barren, bed stripped, desk and closets empty, the room cold with the chill of desertion, and Jason shivered as he toed his shoes off on habit and headed for the door.  Alfred usually went with Bruce on his ‘business trips’, so the Manor should be empty, leaving enough time for Jason to get whatever he wanted.

He had the petty thought that he could leave behind some random destruction—if he was leaving Gotham anyway, he might as well leave a message that even their precious Manor wasn’t as safe as they purported.

But Alfred was the one he’d really hurt, and Jason didn’t want to do that.

Jason tiptoed across the hall on automatic, his steps silent and muffled as he crossed to his old bedroom door.  He paused for a moment to scan it, making sure no one had added any traps, and hoped that his stuff was still inside this room.  He didn’t want to have to hunt through the massive house, and if they gave his room to the Replacement, he was going to fucking set something on fire.

Slow, shuffling steps sounded from the stairs, accompanied by the tinkle of glass and china, and Jason paused.  That didn’t sound like Alfred.  The Manor was supposed to be empty.  Who—

Messy black hair came into view, blue eyes firmly fixed on the wobbling tray held in one shaky hand, the other attempting to hold up a crutch as the Replacement limped up the stairs.

Fucking fantastic.  Jason wondered if he had enough time to slip inside the room before the kid looked up—his attention was pretty firmly fixed on the tray with a bowl of stew and a slice of cake—but he was frozen by the dark, fading bruises across the kid’s face.

Around his throat, finger marks obvious.  The awkward way he was holding the crutch—Jason remembered dislocating that shoulder.  The cast wrapped around the left ankle—Jason could still hear the sickening snap of bone, the scream, the sound of his chuckles over suppressed sobs—

The kid looked up, three steps past the edge of the stairs.  And Jason watched the blood drain from his face.

The tray hit the floor with a resounding clatter, china splintering and skidding in all directions.

The Replacement stumbled back—and abruptly remembered that there was nothing behind him but empty space, jerking sideways before Jason could even start the instinctive ‘look out’.  He flinched, and Jason realized that he’d just stumbled onto the china shards.

Another panicked step—but the shards were clearly digging into the kid’s bare feet and when his good leg spasmed, his bad leg buckled completely, sending the kid crumpling to the ground.

Jason stepped forward automatically, one hand raising—and froze when the kid jerked back, pressing against the railing and all but scrambling into the corner.

Blue eyes were wide and shining, face drawn pale, breaths too fast and too shallow as his chest fluttered, knees drawn up and hands slightly extended, as though to ward him off.  Jason swallowed, and stepped back.

Okay.  He got the message loud and clear.  He was clearly the monster here.  Jason kept his mouth shut, and stalked back to his old bedroom.

~#~

His bedroom was just the way he left it, which was both exactly what Jason wanted, and also extremely creepy.  No one had even tidied up the homework sheets on his table.  It would make sense if the room had been locked and dusty, but it looked as though Jason had just stepped out yesterday.

It was enough to make anyone a little bit dizzy.

Jason retrieved the items he was looking for—the picture with his mom, his old hoodie, a couple of worn copies of books that had ‘property of Jason Todd’ marked in loopy handwriting.  He wanted to take more stuff, but that meant sitting down and figuring out which stuff was his, and which stuff Bruce had bought him, and the Replacement would’ve already set off the alarm so Jason didn’t have much time.

He hadn’t considered the kid in any of his plans—he’d figured that the kid had gone with Alfred and Bruce, or with Nightwing, or somewhere—and barely managed to tamp down on the seething annoyance.  The Replacement was always getting in the way.

Well, at least Jason was going far, far from here.  He’d never have to set eyes on that scrawny little shit again.

Jason collected his stuff and headed for the door—he’d planned to stay another night in Gotham, but he wasn’t up to dealing with the return of a furious Batman and Nightwing.  He’d have to pack the rest of his stuff quickly, and get out, and—

The lunch tray was still on the floor, stew in a growing puddle, cake a soggy lump, shards of the broken plate and bowl scattered all over the hallway.  Jason hadn’t exactly expected the kid to have cleaned the mess, but he had expected the kid to be gone.  Hiding.  Or confronting him with that stick, if the kid was particularly determined and had no common sense.

He hadn’t expected the shivering, curled-up form in the corner, knees up, head tucked down, arms wrapped firmly around shins.  Or the quiet, shuddering breaths, or the choked gasps.

Jason stared at the Repla—at Robin, pressed firmly into the corner like he was trying to make himself a smaller target, and felt the pit of his stomach drop.

He hadn’t moved.  Jason had spent—had spent at least five minutes in the room, and the kid hadn’t moved.

Jason took a step towards the room he’d entered through.  He needed to leave.  Clearly the kid thought—and Jason couldn’t exactly fault him—but Jason needed to go.  Once he left, the kid would come out of it.  Eventually.  Jason couldn’t exactly call anyone, the only numbers he remembered were the ones to the Manor, and they would’ve locked him out of everything in the Cave.

Red.  There was red pooling under the kid’s feet.  The pieces of broken china littered the floor like a minefield, and that was way too much bleeding to be a minor wound.  That was the kind of bleeding that needed immediate attention and probably stitches.

Jason swallowed.

[advisorykitty]

Cat-Nap

Nyen x Reader x Robert

The Ivory Household was as quiet as it ever got, which was still not quiet at all. The sound of scurrying footsteps echoed through the walls as Sebastian and Randal did whatever gosh knows what. Meanwhile, Nyen, the house’s resident grump, was pacing the halls with a string of curses muttered under his breath.

“That fucking traitor,” Nyen snarled, his tail flicking with irritation. “One of our own, siding with those rats. Damn bastard.”

He stalked down the corridor like a predator on the hunt, his boots hitting the floor with a menacing thud. He could already feel his blood pressure rising at the thought of it—a cat—giving food to those scrappy little rats. It was a betrayal of the highest order, and Nyen wasn’t one to let things slide.

Nyon, the quieter of the two catmen, stood awkwardly to the side, watching his fellow feline work himself into a rage. His eyes blinked slowly, not quite understanding why Nyen was so furious—again.

“They’re... nice?” Nyon mumbled, but his comment barely registered. Nyen was too busy plotting what he’d do when he caught you. Spoiler: it wasn’t going to be pretty.

---

Meanwhile, you were blissfully unaware of the brewing shitstorm. As a catperson yourself, you knew Nyen had a short fuse, but today, you couldn’t be bothered to worry about it. Instead, you were curled up in one of your favorite napping spots: a cupboard. Not just any cupboard, though—a small, cramped one in the pantry, filled with jars and cans you used as makeshift pillows.

The ratmen had grown on you in a way you hadn’t expected. At first, you were just indifferent. They were scavengers, scrappy and a little annoying, but after spending enough time around them, you realized they weren’t all bad. Plus, they were always in need of food, and you didn’t mind slipping them a loaf of bread or some cheese every now and then , also do you mention how good their taste was??Anyway.

Nyen would lose his mind if he found out—again—but that was a risk you were willing to take.

Today had been one of those days. You’d helped Robert grab some food earlier, and now, after your little good deed, you’d settled down for a nap, feeling pretty good about yourself.

---

Robert, meanwhile, was already sneaking through the pantry again. He hadn’t planned on making another trip today, but when the others had drawn straws for who had to go scavenging, he’d come up short. So here he was, slipping through a crack in the wall, looking for food—and not expecting to find you curled up in the cupboard, fast asleep.

He stopped, hands on his hips, staring at you with a look of disbelief. “Really?” he muttered to himself. “Of all places...”

“Hey,” Robert said, giving the cupboard a light knock. You didn’t stir.

“Oi. Wake up,” he said, louder this time, tapping the wood with his foot.

You let out a sleepy groan, your ears twitching as you blinked yourself awake. Slowly, you lifted your head, bleary-eyed and yawning.

“Oh, hey,” you mumbled, stretching out your arms. “Didn’t expect to see you here.”

Robert crossed his arms, giving you a flat look. “You always pick the weirdest places to sleep.”

“It’s cozy,” you said with a shrug, rubbing the sleep from your eyes. “What are you doing here?”

“Looking for food, what else? We need it,” Robert replied, raising an eyebrow.

You sat up a bit more, realizing he probably wasn’t in the mood for your usual laziness. “Right. Let me help, just give me a sec”

With a quick stretch and a few groggy blinks, you hopped out of the cupboard and began grabbing things off the shelves. Within minutes, you handed Robert a couple of loaves of bread, a jar of peanut butter, and a small block of cheese—your usual haul for the ratmen.

“Here,” you said, flashing him a sleepy smile. “This should hold you guys over.”

Robert gave a small nod, his way of saying thanks without actually saying it. “You’re alright,” he muttered. Quickly running over to the whole he made earlier to prevent from potentially dying, again.

“Don’t tell Nyen,” you replied with a chuckle. “He’ll lose it if he finds out I helped you again.”

---

Unfortunately for you, Nyen was already hot on your trail. His temper had only gotten worse over the last hour, especially when he noticed the pantry door was cracked open. His suspicions were confirmed when he caught sight of Robert sneaking away with food—again.

“That fucking traitor!” Nyen hissed, storming toward the pantry. “They gave food to those rats again! Unbelievable!”

Nyon, who had been trailing behind, watched with his usual wide-eyed expression. “Maybe... talk first?” he offered weakly, but Nyen was already too far gone.

He shoved the pantry door open, tail lashing behind him as he glared around the small room, his eyes finally landing on you. You were sitting on the floor, leaning against the cupboard, looking a little too comfortable for someone who had just committed high treason in Nyen’s eyes.

“You!” Nyen growled, pointing an accusing finger in your direction. “You fucking rat-loving bastard! Again? Really?”

You blinked up at him, still half-asleep. “What?”

“Don’t play dumb with me!” Nyen snapped, his voice getting louder. “I saw you! You’re helping them, aren’t you? Feeding those filthy little rodents like some... some traitor!”

You rubbed the back of your neck, shrugging. “I mean, they were hungry. It’s not a big deal.”

“Not a big deal?” Nyen’s eyes were practically bulging out of his head at this point. “You’re supposed to obey Master Luther! And here you are, handing out food to the enemy like some kind of—” He struggled to find a word foul enough, so he just settled on more swearing. “Fucking rat-loving piece of shit.”

You sighed, standing up and brushing off your clothes. “Look, it’s not like I’m giving them gourmet meals or anything. It’s just bread and cheese. Calm down.”

Nyen looked like he was about to explode. “Calm down? Calm down? How the hell am I supposed to calm down when you’re over here making nice with rats? Do you have any idea how much I hate those little fuckers?”

You glanced over at the door, wondering if you could make a break for it. Nyen was worked up, but he wasn’t exactly quick on his feet when he got this angry.

“Just... take a deep breath, okay?” you offered, trying to deescalate the situation. “You’re gonna give yourself a heart attack at this rate.”

Nyen took a step closer, his claws twitching at his sides. “I swear to god, if you don’t stop helping them, I’ll—”

“You’ll what?” you asked, raising an eyebrow.

Nyen paused, his mouth hanging open as he tried to come up with a suitable threat. Finally, he just growled in frustration. “I’ll make your life a living hell, that’s what! You’ll wish you never set foot in this house, traitor.”

“Yeah, sure,” you replied casually, stepping around him. “Anyway, I’m going back to my nap. Try not to lose your mind while I’m gone, okay?”

With that, you sauntered out of the pantry, leaving Nyen standing there, fists clenched, seething.

Nyon, who had watched the whole thing in stunned silence, finally spoke up. “They... nice?”

Nyen threw his hands in the air. “Nice? Nice? They’re a fucking menace, that’s what they are!”

Nyon just blinked.

---

-----

The days after you’d helped Robert and the rats were blissfully uneventful—at least, for you. Nyen, on the other hand, was stewing in his rage. He’d caught wind of your little act of "betrayal," and it had only added to the fire already burning in him. You could almost hear the distant thumping of his heavy boots as he stalked through the corridors, looking for you, no doubt.

And here you were, curled up comfortably in a cupboard, dozing off again. It wasn’t the first time you’d fallen asleep in weird places. If anything, it was your signature move, and if Robert or the other ratmen needed something, they’d know exactly where to find you.

But right now, you were far from the safety of your cupboard dreamland. The sound of furious footsteps stomping down the hall woke you from your nap, and your ears twitched as you lazily blinked your eyes open.

“Fucking... rat-loving... traitor.”

You recognized the voice immediately and groaned, pulling the cupboard door open just a crack. There, standing in the hallway, was Nyen, his eyes practically glowing with fury.

He spotted you in an instant, his expression twisting into something between disgust and rage. His lips curled back into a snarl, and he marched over to your hiding spot, yanking the cupboard door wide open.

“There you are, you lazy piece of shit,” he spat, his voice dripping with venom. “Thought you could hide in here forever, huh?”

You stretched lazily, completely ignoring the murderous look in his eyes. “Hide? Nah. I was napping.”

Nyen’s claws twitched dangerously, his tail lashing behind him. “You think this is a fucking joke, don’t you?”

You shrugged, sliding out of the cupboard and dusting yourself off. “I mean, you’re the one who keeps getting worked up over a few crumbs of bread.”

Nyen’s eyes widened in disbelief, his anger boiling over. “A few crumbs? You’ve been feeding those disgusting rats for days! You’re practically throwing them a fucking banquet in there!”

You grinned, leaning back against the wall. “They were hungry.”

“I DON’T GIVE A FUCK IF THEY’RE HUNGRY!” Nyen roared, his claws slashing through the air as he stepped closer. “They’re rats! They steal, they spread disease, they’re filth. And here you are, playing house with them like some sort of... fucking rat sympathizer!”

Your grin widened. “Well, when you put it like that—”

Nyen snapped. His kinfe swiped at your face, and you barely dodged in time, the tip of his kinfe grazing your cheek. You winced, more out of surprise than pain, but you stayed where you were, refusing to back down.

Before Nyen could lunge at you again, a soft voice interrupted the tension.

“Nyen... please... calm down.”

It was Nyon, standing quietly in the hallway, his wide sherbet pink eyes blinking at the scene before him. He looked worried, his hands fidgeting nervously at his sides.

“They... not so bad,” Nyon mumbled, his thick accent making his voice sound even softer. “They... just hungry.”

Nyen shot him a glare so sharp it could’ve cut steel. “Shut the fuck up, Nyon.”

Nyon, as usual, didn’t flinch. He just kept blinking, his expression one of quiet confusion. “But... they not hurting anyone.”

Nyen let out a snarl, his patience snapping completely. “I SAID SHUT. THE. FUCK. UP!” With a quick, furious motion, he shoved Nyon hard, sending him stumbling back into the wall. The impact wasn’t enough to hurt him seriously, but it was enough to make Nyon’s eyes widen in shock, his usually calm demeanour faltering for a split second.

Your jaw tightened as you watched Nyon stumble. “That was unnecessary.”

Nyen turned his glare back to you, his voice a low, dangerous growl. “Don’t fucking lecture me. You don’t get to act all high and mighty when you’re the reason this shit’s happening.”

You rolled your eyes. “Oh, please. You’ve hated those rats long before I got here.”

Nyen’s eyes narrowed, his claws flexing again. “Yeah, and I’m this close to getting rid of the whole fucking lot of them.”

You frowned. “You’re not seriously thinking about...”

“I’m fucking done with this,” Nyen hissed, stepping closer until his face was just inches from yours. His breath was hot, and you could see the raw, unfiltered hatred burning in his eyes. “If I catch you giving them so much as a fucking breadcrumb again, I’ll make sure you regret it. I don’t care if you think you’re being some kind of hero, feeding them out of the goodness of your heart. You’re not. You’re just a fucking idiot who’s making everything worse and cant respect their masters orders.”

You held his gaze, refusing to back down even as his claws hovered dangerously close to your throat. “They’re just trying to survive, Nyen. They’re not the enemy.”

“They are the enemy,” Nyen spat, his voice dripping with venom. “And if you keep helping them, then so are you.”

For a moment, the air between you was thick with tension, both of you locked in a silent standoff. You could feel Nyen’s fury radiating off him like heat, his every muscle coiled and ready to strike. But you didn’t flinch. You never flinched.

After what felt like an eternity, Nyen let out a sharp breath and stepped back, his claws retracting but his eyes still burning with rage.

“You’ve been warned,” he growled, his voice low and dangerous. “Next time, I won’t be so fucking nice.”

With that, he turned on his heel and stormed out of the pantry, his heavy footsteps echoing down the hallway as he disappeared from sight.

Nyon, who had been watching quietly from the sidelines, finally stepped forward, his eyes still wide with concern. He didn’t say anything at first, just blinking at you as if trying to process what had just happened.

You let out a breath, rubbing the back of your neck. “You okay?”

Nyon nodded slowly. “Yes. But... Nyen... very angry.”

You snorted. “Yeah, no shit.”

Nyon tilted his head, his brow furrowing slightly. “Why... you help rats? You know.. he hate them.”

You shrugged, leaning back against the wall again. “Because they’re not bad. They’re just... doing what they have to do to survive. Same as us.”

Nyon blinked, clearly still trying to wrap his head around the concept. “But... they steal.”

“Um.. that's kinda true.. but I give it to then so I wouldn't say they steal??"

Nyon was silent for a moment, his pink eyes studying you carefully. Then, after what felt like a long pause, he nodded again, as if something had finally clicked in his mind.

“I see,” he said quietly. “You... kind.”

You smiled faintly. “I guess so.”

Nyon didn’t say anything else, just gave you a small, shy smile before turning and following in Nyen’s footsteps, disappearing down the hallway without another word.

As the tension in the room finally faded, you leaned back against the wall again, your mind already drifting back to the idea of another nap .

You rest your eyes for a bit, fatigue overtaking your senses. Man it would be nice to sleep..

But this time, as you settled back into the cupboard, you couldn’t help but wonder how long it would be before Nyen came after you again.

Something told you it wouldn��t be long.

(P.s this was a request on ao3 , also this isn't proof read so sorry for errors (；へ：) )

[paintyoureyeswithavividmind]

close to home | chapter twenty

close to home | chapter twenty

plot: the reader, Carol, and Tyreese struggle on the road to Terminus

series masterlist

Pairing: Eventual Daryl Dixon x f!reader Word Count: 2,025 Warnings: violence, blood, injury A/N: thanks for reading!

He wasn't thrilled about finding the group of men Daryl now walked with. He didn’t care about any of them, and after the altercation with Len about the damn rabbit, he wanted to disappear. But he knew how dangerous it was to be alone and couldn’t stomach the idea.

When Joe started asking about his plan, his only thought was of you. Even though you were only friends, his plans always revolved around you. Early morning hunting trips, going out on runs, keeping each other company during watch. Watching you play with Tora in the cell block when you didn’t know he was looking. His plan was his family, and you were a part of that. But now that was gone, and he had no plans anymore. 

“Are you a cat person, Daryl?” Joe asked him. 

His words froze Daryl, and he looked up at Joe. They had just finished taking down a few walkers after finding a place to settle in for the night. 

“I am,” Joe continued, “Loved ‘em since I was three years old. Vicious creatures. Anyway, I’ll tell you, and this is true. Ain’t nothing sadder than an outdoor cat that thinks he’s an indoor cat.” Joe said. 

Daryl thought about that for a second, ignoring how it made him feel, before saying, “Yeah, I can tell you’re a cat person.”

Joe turned back and looked at him. “How so?” He laughed. 

“You can just tell who’s a cat person.”

***

Since leaving the house, you managed to walk another mile before needing Carol’s help. They wanted to take a break, but you didn’t allow that; you just wanted to get to Terminus. You wanted to be safe. 

You were only about a mile out when a walker appeared, and Tyreese took Judith from Carol before she went to handle the problem. Nearly as soon as the walker dropped, you heard the sound of dozens more. Your eyes widened at the amount approaching you, and Carol jogged towards you guys. 

You scooped up Tora, and then after passing Judith to Carol, Tyreese picked you up. You groaned at the pain in your side and squeezed Tora, making sure she didn’t run away. 

The idea of Tyreese carrying you made you want to cry. You felt like a problem to them, and more importantly, you didn’t want to get them killed. But Tyreese held you tightly and didn’t seem to stall at the extra weight. 

Carol led you guys around a bend where you hid. Tyreese set you down and crouched around the corner, watching with Carol. You couldn’t see a thing, but you held tightly to Tora and breathed deeply, hoping the small herd would pass. 

You glanced at them, wincing when it looked like they were about to start running, when gunshots echoed in the distance. Tora chirruped, and you squeezed her as she struggled to escape your arms. You were used to fighting the cat and keeping her where she was. 

After a few long, quiet minutes, the herd had passed, and they helped you up and back to the tracks. 

“That gunfire, it could’ve been to Terminus,” You said, balancing on one foot to keep the weight off your side. Tyreese had his arm around you and was holding you steady. 

“Someone was attacking them,” Carol said, “Or they were attacking someone.”

“Do we even want to find out?” Tyreese asked, looking between you two. 

Carol was the one to speak, bouncing Judith on her hip. Your bow and arrow were slung around her. “Yeah. There’s another track due east that’ll get us there. We’ll be real careful. We’ll get answers.”

With the silent agreement between the three of you, you started to head to the other track. But you winced after a few steps, and Tyreese made you pause. He had you put Tora in his bag, carefully zipping it so she had enough air to breathe but couldn’t escape, and then picked you up. 

“I’m okay…” You said, though, it was fruitless. “Thank you. I’m sorry.” 

Tyreese only shook his head. “We’re family. If you could, I’m sure you’d do this for me.” Then he smiled, and you laughed too. “I’m sure you’d try.”

An hour later, you were leaning against a tree with Judith and watching Tyreese and Carol approach a guy outside the small building you found. You anxiously bit on your fingernail as you watched them hold a gun to your head. You weren’t close enough to hear what they were saying, but after a minute, they were tying him up and giving you a signal to come over. 

You limped over to them, Tora leading the way. Judith fussed on your hip, and you handed her off to Tyreese when you got to the building. 

“They got Michonne and Carl,” Tyreese said to you quietly, “That’s all we know.”

You let out a shaky breath and blinked back a few tears. Michonne and Carl. They were alive. That was the best news you had heard all day. You took a deep breath and finally smiled, looking at Tyreese. He returned his own. 

Carol already had a plan going, and she walked out the door. You limped after her, and Tyreese was half in and half out. 

“Carol, I want to go with you.” You said, “I don’t know what you’re doing, but I wanna help. That’s Carl and Michonne. Who knows if anyone else made it.”

She turned around and looked at you, then at Tyreese. “(Y/N), you have to stay here. You are still healing, and there are going to be walkers everywhere. You can’t.”

You tried to think of another excuse, another way to go with her. But you couldn’t think of anything. You knew you’d slow her down, and that would be dangerous. As much as you wanted to help, as much as you were dying to help, you knew it was better to stay here.

“Okay, okay,” You finally nodded. “Good luck.”

Carol was gone in a second, and Tyreese grabbed your arm to help you back into the building. He sat you on the floor, then put Judith down, checking your stitches. There was some blood, but as you looked the best you could, there was no sign of infection. 

“You did good,” You told him. “Finding the medicine. You probably saved my life.” 

Tyreese smiled at you as the man spoke from across the room. “She got a name?” He nodded toward the baby. 

“Judith,” Tyreese said. 

You watched carefully as they spoke. Your hand is tight around the machete. You assessed the guy as an asshole, and if you were feeling better, you would’ve killed him for taunting Tyreese the way he was. But you were in a lot of pain after all the walking, and you could barely stand. 

You were vaguely aware of gunfire, explosion, and then the sound of walkers outside. Tyreese ran to the other side of the room, and you attempted to sit up and watch him, to try and see outside the window. 

Everything happened at once. You knew the man moved as quickly as he wrapped his arms around your throat, pulling you backward by the neck. You screamed in pain as you felt your stitches tear. You tried reaching for your machete, but he kicked it away and held you tighter. Your bow and arrow were too far out of reach.

You tried to speak, but your air was cut off, and you grabbed his arms, trying to pull him off. Judith started crying in the background, but you couldn’t see her.

“Back off!” He yelled when Tyreese approached. “She’s already almost out of air, you want me to kill her?”

You tried to tell Tyreese not to back off, not to listen, but you couldn't form the words. Each movement of your body caused a burning sensation in your side, but you kept trying to wiggle yourself free. 

“Put your weapons on the ground and kick them over right now,” The man said, squeezing your throat tighter. You cried out in pain. 

Tyreese did as he asked.

“Please, don’t hurt her,” Tyreese said. 

“Go outside,” The man said. You tried to yell out no, but it came out in gasps. “Go outside!” He yelled. 

Tyreese backed up to the door and you watched in horror as he disappeared behind the door. Tears burned your eyes as the man moved away, grabbing the knife and cutting himself free. You turned on your side, coughing and spitting up bile as the air hit your lungs. Your vision was blurry, and you felt like passing out. 

The sound of Tyreese fighting and Judith crying was the only noise filling your mind, and you tried to reach for the gun still on the floor. The man quickly spotted you and kicked it away before turning to you, kicking you in the face.

You grunted in pain when your head slammed against the hardwood floor, and you felt blood pour out from your nose. Your eyes were wet with tears, and your mouth filled with blood. You tried to pull yourself up, and another blow knocked you down again. Luckily it was the side that wasn’t stabbed, but it sent your body into a frenzy, and you felt like you were going to pass out. 

Then the sound of Tyreese fighting stopped, and you couldn’t help but cry out in fear that he was taken down. You looked towards the door, fully accepting that these were your last moments, when it flew open, and Tyreese slammed himself into the man. 

The sound of bone crunching and Tyreese screaming caused you to wince and curl yourself away from the sound. There was so much screaming and blood that you couldn’t tell if the man was dead. You were too exhausted and delirious to notice whether he was dead. But Tyreese was gentle when he turned to you, softly pushing your hair back. You saw his eyes were wet, and blood coated his face. 

“(Y/N),” He said, “I’m so sorry.”

You cried harder as he checked your stitches, swearing under his breath. Bruises were already beginning to form on your throat, your nose was still bleeding, and you had a split lip. Your eye was looking swollen too. 

Tyreese ransacked the bags until he found the guy’s medkit and quickly patched you up. But there were only a few gauze pads, and he needed something more sturdy. 

“You need to p-put pressure on it,” You said, grabbing his arm. “To try and stop the bleeding.” 

“Not all the stitches ripped. This will hurt,” Tyreese said before putting pressure on the wound. 

Your scream pierced the room, and Judith started crying harder. You grabbed Tyreese’s arm as you sobbed. Everything hurt in your body, and you knew it was your time. 

“You need to go,” You said through clenched teeth. “Take Judith and get out of here. You can’t protect us both.” 

“I’m not leaving you!” Tyreese yelled, putting more weight on you. You cried harder, screaming in pain. He apologized over and over again. 

After what seemed like forever, the bleeding started to slow. He quickly wrapped gauze and bandages around your stomach. Then he stood and went to check by the window. “(Y/N).”

You choked out another sob and tried to lean up, but Tyreese quickly came over to you. He helped you to your feet, and while you were a little unsteady, you could stand with his help. He grabbed Judith and then came over to you, helping you walk slowly. 

You were fully expecting to see the road full of walkers, and you were ready to try and sacrifice yourself so Tyreese could get away. But when you stepped out into the hot summer air,  blood still dripping from your body, it wasn’t walkers headed towards you. It was your family. 

[msbigredmachine]

TARGETS - EPILOGUE

Roman Reigns is an agent in the secret organization The Authority and one of the world’s deadliest assassins. When he crosses paths with a mysterious woman during an assignment, he makes a life-changing decision that switches his role from the hunter to the hunted.  (AU Espionage Story)

TARGETS MASTERLIST

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

BOOOOM!

“First C4 activated! Release the teargas, now!”

“Got it, Uce. Put on your gas mask, man. You and Rollins in yet?”

“Affirmative. Ambrose and I are in."

"Hey, I see ‘em.”

“Both of ‘em?”

“Yeah. Both packages located, we got ‘em. Shit, they’re hurt.”

“Hold on, Ambrose, we’ll patch them up later. Twins, get us outta here, asap!”

“There’s a loose vent on your nine that leads right outside. You got ninety seconds to evacuate, then the rest of the C4s blow.”

“We found it. We’re getting outta here. Man, we owe you guys. Both of you.”

“Naw, Uce. We’ll collect soon, don’t worry about it.”

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

Sixty three days later…

Montego Bay, Jamaica 

"So this is it?"

Dean nodded, handing the object he was holding over to his dark-haired friend. "Yep."

Seth held it up, scrutinizing it carefully. "You think she'll like it?" he asked, looking wearily at Dean and hoping he didn't sound as panicked as he felt.

"Course she will, look how pretty it is," Dean said, "Chicks dig stuff like this, anyway."

"Ah shit, I should have just brought Roman along with us," Seth whined.

"So what, my opinions mean shit to you?" the ex-Authority agent challenged, offended.

"It's not that, man, it's just...he seems to be really good with this stuff. The romance and all. He’s had a lot of experience with Jasmine."

"Well, he's probably with her right now...would you like to call him and fuck everything up in the process?" Dean flattened his eyes at Seth, who sighed heavily. "Now's really not the time to bitch at me, Ambrose. I’m just a little nervous for him, that’s all."

Dean started to say more, but decided to drop it when he noticed the apprehension on his friend's face. He reached up and patted his shoulder reassuringly. "It's gonna be fine, Seth. Trust me. Trust both of them. After all the shit they have been through together, I don't see any other outcome."

Seth looked at his friend with a smile. It seemed like only yesterday that he and Dean came to Roman and Jasmine's aid at Lagoon. The two men never went to Jamaica, at least not immediately. When they discovered the Authority and F.L.O.R.A’s plans to ambush the couple, they sought out Jimmy and Jey and begged for their help, to help them interject themselves under the guise that they were working under The Authority's orders. With the twins pulling the strings, Dean was able to rig the entire shopping mall with explosives, detonating them all and bringing the building down on all the agents. Seth rescued a gravely injured Roman and Jasmine through a vent that was initially to be used to dispatch their corpses, and got them out of there before the building was razed to the ground. Together, the four smuggled their way out of the States and took a one-way trip to the Caribbean. 

As beautiful and serene as Montego Bay seemed, adjusting to life as civilians was a tougher process than all four of them thought. The rules were different, an uncomfortable contrast from what they were used to. The need to hunt, to kill, still lingered. The threat of the remnants of what was once their lives still hung over their heads, and at times paranoia set in. To stay sane, the four of them often had dinner together at Roman and Jasmine's overwater bungalow, which was a short distance from the little town they resided in, isolated and surrounded by bushes and beaches. For the first few weeks, they took turns staying awake, keeping watch over the house while the others slept. As much as they knew that most of F.L.O.R.A. and The Authority had been wiped out, none of them was naive enough to be assured they were gone for good. Perhaps the paranoia was destined to be ingrained in them, but they were better safe than sorry. 

The twins had unfrozen the accounts of Roman and Jasmine, and with Seth and Dean’s own contributions, all four were set for life as multimillionaires. However, they chose to lay low as ordinary middle class foreigners. The three men set up an auto shop and began making a living as mechanics, while Jasmine became a bartender at a popular local bar. It was a smart strategy, allowing her to sniff out anyone suspicious as well as collect information on the goings-on around town. Of course, it wasn’t all about work. The dating scene was kind to Dean and Seth in varying degrees. Dean was, as expected, sowing his wild oats, while Seth had fallen for a Jamaican girl named Portia who worked at the bar with Jasmine. She, Roman and Dean approved of her – after a quick background check of course, and Roman told Seth he hoped he would find the kind of happiness he was enjoying with Jasmine.

Checking his watch, Dean looked over at Seth. “Where the fuck is that big goof anyway? He’s supposed to come over and pick it up. He knows I got a date in like an hour. What’s taking him so long?”

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

Roman expelled another primal grunt as he uncrossed Jasmine’s ankles and shoved her knees into the mattress. As he thrust deeper inside her impossibly wet, tender pussy, she cried out and squirmed underneath his big body.

“Fuck! Wait, wait baby, I just came again,” she whined with a push of his hips, forcing him to halt his movements so she could catch her breath. Chuckling softly at her declaration, he leaned down to kiss her cheek, feeling her sexy little body shiver against him. His lips then touched hers in sweet, gentle kisses, making her moan for him. His tongue played with hers, making her taste his breakfast from earlier, which just so happened to be her.

“I ain't done. C’mon,” he drawled, giving her another kiss before sitting back up and moving again, albeit less roughly this time. He hissed with delight when he sank into her, thrusting in and out, meeting nothing but warm, tight wetness. “Yeah, that’s it mama, take it, grip my dick…” he groaned softly, closely watching her pretty face.

“Unnnhhh, shit,” Jasmine moaned, looking down at his flesh weapon, glistening with her nectar, digging her out, with her legs now wide open and pinned down by his huge hands. “Damn, your dick is so big…”

“I know, baby, you take it so well. Am I gettin’ your sweet spot? Huh?” he asked, his voice so thick and sultry that she moaned again.

“You are, Daddy, you’re all the way in. So good.” She’d never felt this full before and it felt incredible. His dick had her pussy slick and stuffed, and even then she gripped him tighter with each luscious stroke.

“Mm-hmm, I can feel it, baby. Let me pound this pussy till you squirt all over me.” 

“Oooooh,” she answered weakly, her eyes rolling back when he began to fuck her harder. She was on the verge of passing out from the incredible pleasure. Her palms slid down his broad back to squeeze and grip his ass cheeks, her toes curling in the air, her throaty moans lost among the sounds of slapping skin and the outdoors morning breeze as he fucked her into the bed with his deep, ruthless stroking. 

Roman cupped her bouncing breasts and massaged them in his large competent hands, the scrape of his fingertips over her nipples prompting her walls to pull greedily on his dick. “Unnhh, you got me drunk off this pussy, baby, so tight and wet for Daddy,” he rasped, biting his lip when she fluttered around him again. Getting praised turned her on; he knew that all too well and did so as often as he could because it made her feel good and his girl deserved it.

“Fuck, right there Daddy, right there,” her mouth fell open and her eyes fluttered shut as he flexed his hips, sliding his heavy dick right up in her stomach. He was taking his time, making her feel every inch of him all up in her guts, the base of his cock grinding against her clit. Her fingers slipped down between her open legs to rub the swollen bud in quick, frantic circles. “Ooh, shiiiit, I’m gonna come again…”

"Look at me. Let me see them pretty eyes when you come," he groaned, and immediately her eyes flew back open; she could see the whites of his own, his pupils onyx black and dilated, reflecting the passion she was feeling. She pulled him down and wrapped her arms around him. The sweat slid between their bodies as he pounded her out, his hefty girth swelling inside her, expanding her walls, his growls and moans ringing in her ears as he also neared his end, causing the heat in her belly to amplify to seismic proportions. 

“Oh fuck, oh, ohhhh,” And then she was struck dumb as this orgasm crashed over her with brute force, every part of her burning feverishly from the explosion of her body, flooding Roman's dick with her juices just like he wanted.

Tucking his face in her neck, another needy groan escaped from Roman’s lips as he pumped away on top of her, his breathing getting heavier and heavier. Then, with one more deep thrust, the big man came apart with a harsh moan, his entire body going rigid as he pulsed inside her. He tried to rock his hips again, but then froze because he was coming so hard, his dick twitching and spurting cum deep inside her walls. Jasmine lowered her long legs and wrapped them around his waist to keep him close, threading her fingers through his hair and pulling his face to hers for a kiss. She loved how he moaned into her mouth, sharing his pleasure with her as his orgasm continued to ravage his two-sixty-plus-pound frame. Every dizzying second was amazing, and they savored the moment of bliss together, feeling serene and replete.

“Fuck, I can’t move,” Roman half-groaned, half-chuckled, drawing a giggle from Jasmine as she wiped the sweat off his brow. 

“Then don’t,” she told him, recapturing his mouth for more deliciously noisy tongue-kissing. “Mmm, baby, what a start to my morning...”

Her little purr, along with her delectable tongue lapping his mouth and her hands kneading the firm flesh of his backside, caused his dick to stir inside her again, tempting him with yet another round. He placed one more sensual kiss to her lips before managing to slide out of her and collapse onto his back with a satisfied moan. As Jasmine pushed herself upright and tugged her neon-green bikini top back over her breasts, his eyes narrowed, as though seeing her chest for the first time. “Is it me or are your titties bigger?” he asked.

Jasmine giggled and pushed them together for his hungry gaze. “It’s possible. I’m getting thicker everywhere. Must be all the good Island food.” 

“I ain’t mad at it, baby. If anything, you look hotter every day,” he complimented, reaching out to squeeze her ass when she rolled over to search for something on her side of the bed. Checking the time on his phone, he cursed and flew out of the bed in all his naked glory. Luckily there was no one in sight of the expanse of clear blue sea their bedroom overlooked. “Fuck! Ambrose is gonna kill me! I’m meant to have met him ten minutes ago!” He grabbed his shorts from off the floor and hopped clumsily into them, commando and all. 

“When will you be back?” Jasmine asked, putting on her sunglasses.

“Soon as I can,” he said, throwing on his white t-shirt. “I shouldn’t be long. We’re going out later this evening, by the way, just me and you.”

“You don’t wanna stay in tonight?” she pouted.

“We can, if that’s what you want. But then you’ll miss out on the special surprise I got for you.” Sitting down next to her, he reached behind her to gently massage the back of her neck as he peered at her. “You okay, though?”

“Yeah, everything’s fine,” Jasmine smiled sweetly at her boyfriend. “Don't be gone too long. I want more sex.”

"Damn, my girl's been horny as hell for me lately. Not that I'm complaining."

Her nonchalant shrug couldn't hide her blush. "Yeah, well, you're smoking hot and I like the way you fuck me, so..." she said simply.

Roman chuckled at that. She really knew how to stroke a guy's ego...among other things. "A'ight, then. Anything for you, my baby girl. I’ll be back asap. Love you.” 

“Love you too,” she replied. With a tender kiss to her lips, he stood up and slipped through the curtained entrance, leaving her by herself. Once she was sure the coast was clear, Jasmine took a deep, nervous breath, staring out into the horizon, her mind traveling in several different directions.

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

Hours later

The beauty of the sunset was unmissable, and Jasmine and Roman were glad to be out to see it. After a sumptuous early dinner in one of their favorite restaurants, the couple strolled along the beach, arms comfortably around the other, lost in their thoughts. They had become more reflective ever since their narrow brush with death back in the States. A lot had changed, and it led to a new, albeit uncertain future with scars of their recent past. Fragments of bullets remained in Roman's left leg, leaving him with a permanent limp, while Jasmine sustained third-degree burns on her body that left her physically scarred. Despite the physical – and mental – injuries they endured, the couple never forgot that they owed Seth, Dean, Jimmy and Jey their lives.

Their relationship continued to grow. They often took long walks on the beach situated close to their oceanfront residence. They'd had dates and parties there, and it was also their place of mourning after learning of Rose and Leona's deaths. The couple grieved – each in private, and together, sharing their sorrow over the loss of their good friends.

This evening though, there would be no mourning. At least Roman hoped not. As the moment of truth approached, his insides began to twist in knots. He couldn't remember the last time he was this nervous about anything. Stopping, he turned to look at his girlfriend, hoping to draw confidence from her, and what he saw blew him away, like always.

Perfect. That was the only word he could think of to describe her. Absolute perfection. Every curve, every inch of her was exquisite. From her hair, currently styled in long, beautiful goddess locs, to her eyes, the color of hot chocolate on a cold Christmas morning. Her hands, when they touched him, made him surrender without a fight. She was his weakness. She was his strength. She was his love.

Locking eyes with her, he returned her smile when he pulled her gently to him. Cradling her face with both hands, he kissed her deeply, tenderly, feeling her arms curl around his waist as she kissed him back. 

"I love you so much," he whispered, brushing his knuckles over her cheek, his head tilting for another taste of her sweet lips.

"I love you more," Jasmine replied, her voice as soft as his. The way he looked at her was enough to tell her he loved her; with such affection and awe and appreciation. Roman was the only man for her, the only man who could set her heart racing with just one look. His strength, his spontaneity, his passion for life, passion for her, melted her heart. For the first time in her life, Jasmine was in love, truly in love.

He took both her hands in his and held them to his chest. Her eyes widened at how fast his heart was beating. “Baby, are you okay?” she asked, concerned.

Roman merely smiled softly. "Jasmine...it's been just over a year since we first met, and during that time I've searched for ways to express just how much I love you." As he spoke, he felt his nerves begin to fade away. Again, her eyes. One look into them and everything became right with the world. "But I realized that words will never be enough," he went on. "I know it hasn't been the longest relationship, or the most conventional one for that matter, but I think I fell in love with you the moment I saw you in Miami. To say that night was the greatest night of my life will not be an exaggeration."

He watched the tears pool in those beautiful eyes and he took a deep breath. "I love you. More than my own life, my own breath. I can't imagine a life without you and I don't even want to try. We've been through so much together…hell, we almost fuckin’ died together. But I believe there’s a reason we’re still alive, and it’s for this very moment, and I couldn't let it pass by without letting you know I want to spend the rest of my natural life with you…as your husband."

Jasmine stood, dumbfounded, as he smiled a tiny, nervous smile and took a step back. Her eyes grew wide as he slowly descended to one knee. She brought her hands up to cover her shocked gasp, her heart pounding uncomfortably as he reached into his pocket and took out a small velvet box.

Oh god. Oh my god. Tell him! Tell him now! "Wait!" she blurted out.

Roman stilled, staring up at her with an uneasy expression. "Is something wrong?"

The answer to that question depended entirely on him. "I...I need to show you something." Letting her gaze linger on him for a second longer, she brought a long, thin object out of her little shoulder bag and gave it to him with a trembling hand. Roman took it, and holding it up curiously, his face paled.

It was a small, long white stick, and printed at the end of the stick were eight letters.

She swallowed hard as she watched the comprehension dawn on his handsome face. "I took three tests yesterday, they were all positive," she rambled. "I was looking for the right time to tell you..." When she found out, she was terrified. She didn't know what he would say, how he would react, so she had kept it from him and chose to confide in Portia instead. She had encouraged Jasmine to tell him tonight. But now, as she gauged the look on his face, she wished she never did. Her heart sank at his unreadable expression. He hadn't said a word, instead just kept staring at the pregnancy test. It felt like a hot knife through her chest and for a moment she couldn't breathe. 

"I...I’m keeping the baby," she barreled on with a shaky voice, fighting back tears. She tore her gaze away from him. She couldn't bear to see the rejection on his face, or hear him disown the one thing she thought they'd created out of love. "You don't have to be involved in its life if you don't want to-"

"What?!" Roman exclaimed, surprised. "Why the fuck would you think I don't want anything to do with my own child?"

There was a pain in his eyes Jasmine had never seen before, and in that moment she felt stupid for thinking the way she did. "I...I don't know...I didn't know how you would feel about being a father..." She tried to defend herself and ended up succumbing to her tears. "I remembered everything you told me in Vermont, how hesitant you were about having children. And then this happens and I thought...I just thought you would say you weren't ready, and then you would leave me-"

“Leave you? Over this? Are you fuckin’ kidding me?”

“I don’t know what to think, Roman! I’m scared, okay?”

“Well, think about this.” Tugging her back to him, he silenced her with a kiss so tender, and yet so passionate, that it sent shivers down her spine and made her forget her name. She was certain she was still standing only because he was holding her. When he pulled back, her eyes were still closed, but the tears streamed down her beautiful face, strangely enough, making her look even more beautiful if that was possible. Roman gently pressed his forehead to hers. "Baby, look at me."

When she did, his heart skipped at the sadness that looked back at him. She had him terribly mistaken and he was going to clear that up right now. "My baby girl, you don't realize how much deeper in love with you I've just fallen," he told her softly, sincerely.

At his words, Jasmine choked back a sob, more tears trickling down her cheeks. Roman didn't hesitate to wipe each one away. "I will never leave you for anything," he promised. "You never need to worry about that. I belong to you. I'm yours for as long as you'll have me. That is my child growing inside you, our child. And I'm going to be there for him or her. Every step, every moment, I'll be here by your side. There's nothing else I'd rather do with my future than watch our babies grow old together."

The words were so heartfelt, so sincere. How could she ever have doubted this incredible man?

Reaching back into his pocket, Roman retrieved the small velvet box and opened it up. Jasmine's breath caught at the piece of jewelry that shone at her. It was the most exquisite thing she'd ever seen.

"Jasmine...my love, my sweetheart, the best partner I’ve ever had," Roman said softly, his heart in his brown gaze, "This news you just shared with me has made me the happiest man on earth, and there's only one thing that would make me even happier." Smiling at her, he held up the box to her. "Marry me."

A knowing smile spread across her features. "Mr. Reigns...Are you asking me to be your wife?

Roman's grin matched her own. "Yeah. I guess I am."

"Mrs. Reigns." Jasmine grinned. "I like the sound of that."

The words were familiar – they had this exchange when he'd asked her to be his girlfriend – and he was just as ecstatic as he was back then. "Is that a yes?"

"Of course! Yes!" She could barely see through her tears as he slid the diamond ring onto her finger. She threw herself into his arms and crushed her lips to his. "I love you, Roman." She would never be tired of saying those words to him.

"I love you more." His heart swelled with happiness. This felt like a dream. He was engaged to Jasmine. He would get to spend the rest of his life with her; his lover. His wife-to-be. The mother of his child.

Wow. His child. He was going to be a father.

"Man, it all makes sense now. The vomiting...I thought you were just seasick...Your thicker body, you tryna fuck me every chance you get," he smirked, wiggling his eyebrows.

She hit his arm. "Shut up," she said playfully, laughing when engulfed her in a big hug, burying his face in her neck. They stood there together for a long time, not saying a word, letting it all sink in.

"I'm so fuckin' happy right now. I never thought it was possible to ever feel like this, babe," he whispered, his voice thick with emotion.

Jasmine stroked the back of his head, the tears returning. Happy tears. "You deserve happiness, Roman," she assured him. "We both do." She took his hand in hers. "Darling...I know we're here, and it seems safe, but we may never really be safe, you know?" She looked up at him, her eyes tinged with skepticism.

"I'll protect you," he vowed, placing a gentle hand on his fiancée's belly, only just realizing that it was indeed a little rounder thanks to the changes happening inside her. Even after everything she had been put through, the baby had stood firm. He couldn't help but be proud. His baby was strong, just like its mother. "I'll protect you both."

Jasmine covered his hand on her stomach with hers and kissed him. She believed him. He had not let her down, not yet broken a promise so far. As they broke apart, he kept his hands tight in hers, his smile so wide and happy. His joy was infectious. Jasmine wanted to see him look that way forever. Together, hand in hand, they resumed their walk along the shore, returning home.

"I do have one ground rule though," she spoke up, "No guns around the baby."

He laughed. "We should be telling that to the uncles, Seth and Dean. They'll call dibs on who will teach the baby first."

Jasmine gasped, horrified. "No, no, no guns at all. And certainly no explosives! I'm serious!"

"Well, we'll discuss all of that in fine detail. We've got the rest of our lives to do that, after all," he smiled, squeezing his new fiancée's hand.

Returning his smile, she felt her heart warm, the joy she felt inside radiating through every pore. "Yeah, we do."

The rest of their lives with each other. It sounded good. It sounded really good.

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

“I can pull the trigger right now, Uce. Say the word.”

“Now why do you like gettin’ your hands dirty? Leave that shit for the primitives. You gonna off an innocent unborn baby, dude?”

“It ain’t born yet, so it don’t count.” Jey put his rifle away. “Man, I’m bored. This shit ain’t what it used to be. Everything’s been fucked up the last three months.”

Jimmy rolled his eyes. “It’s fucked up cuz we allowed it to happen, Uce. And look at us now. We run F.L.O.R.A and the Authority. Chill.”

Jey mulled it over. His brother had a point. “A’ight. So what’s the plan?”

“We wait for the best offer and only at the right time. When that time comes, we serve ‘em all up to the highest bidder. We’re looking at half a billion dollars, brother. That kinda bread gives us unlimited access to the most secure cybersystems in the world."

"Not to mention feed our families for life. Whose names are in the hat?”

“You won't believe it, bro. Trick and Melo Gang, the Latino World Order, Tony D and Stacks…the McMahons…”

Jey’s eyes widened. Those names belonged to some of the most dangerous crime families and syndicates in all of North America, all of whom had been slighted by either Jasmine, Roman, Dean or Seth. “Oh shit. I like the sound of that,” he said with a big grin on his face.

Jimmy’s glinted menacingly. “Exactly. The fun’s just getting started, Uce. Sit your ass back, be patient and relax.”

“Ya know what, big brother? Maybe I will.”

And with that, the twins continued their surveillance on their former colleagues, their targets, their meal tickets, their chance to take over cyberspace and wreak havoc on the world like they really wanted to.

After all, the waiting game was the fun part. It made eliminating the targets much sweeter.

THE END

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

And so ends Targets. What a ride it's been.

Thoughts?

Who was your favorite character? Favorite chapter/quote/scene?

Thank you all for your amazing support! I'll be on vacation in like a week so expect more stuff from me hopefully soon!

[thecarnivorousmuffinmeta]

Bella dies after giving birth, what’s life like for Renesmee? Presumably the same plot points that happen while Bella is changing happen in this timeline so Jacob still imprints

The Immediate Aftermath

The Cullens move and plan to do so without Jacob.

Edward's in a near catatonic state and the town holds too many memories. Without Bella here, they have no reason to stay. Better to leave, start fresh, and try to see Edward through this and give Renesmee support in a new place.

Jacob, however, feels completely blindsided by this just as they proposed immediately moving in canon.

Like in canon, he gets Charlie.

Only this time, there's no Bella for him to see, so Jacob tells an even better story: the Cullens murdered your daughter and you have a granddaughter now.

Jacob feels very proud of himself.

Well, to Jacob's shock, the Cullens just leave even faster because of this. Charlie arrives to a very clearly abandoned house, a freshly dug grave that has his daughter's starved body in it, and weird things like blood inside the house and what looks like an at home operating room.

Jacob tries to take off after the Cullens and to his shock finds Leah and Seth defecting back. They're not joining him on a cross country trip to hunt down the leeches.

Jacob goes alone, but he has no contact info for the Cullens, no knowledge about where they typically stay, and their scent disappeared (as they drove out of town).

(Worse yet, though Jacob doesn't know it, the Cullens have gone completely off the grid since Jacob just framed them for murder. They may never reappear in society again thanks to this.)

Jacob spends the next X years searching northern states and rural towns for any hint of Dr. Carlisle Cullen.

The Cullens

Thanks to Jacob, they've gone off the grid, Carlisle informs the family that they may have to stay off as this will very likely be sensationalized (small town murder involving good looking teenage girl, insanely beautiful but weird family, etc.) With the internet and facial recognition rising, they probably can't even get away with simply leaving the country.

Ultimately, the family's not too upset by this as they weren't going to do the high school thing for a while anyway because of Renesmee.

Edward, however, is still a catatonic mess.

He's now come to enough to realize Bella's dead, essentially murdered by him, and now he's back to his suicide plan. Only, now he has no Jacob (who would demand Renesmee in turn for killing Edward), and he has no Volturi.

Edward now has no one to turn to to kill him.

I imagine Edward wanders down towards the newborn war territory and provokes them into killing him, feeling that his family will raise Renesmee better in his stead.

Renesmee is now an orphan.

What Happens with Renesmee

Well, with the Cullens off the grid, there's no Irina misunderstanding so no trial.

The Cullens raise her in terror she'll drop dead any minute now, but she eventually stops aging and seems to settle at whatever she is now.

[galactic-feelins]

It Was The Night Of The Meteor Shower

Inspired loosely by a prompt, Danny’s friends and family did not survive the events of The Ultimate Enemy. Knowing what he could’ve been, he decides to find his own way through his grief. Although the ghosts of future are dealt with, he now uncovers ghosts of past, and it seems he misunderstood the ghosts in the present.

Pov: Danny going through quite possibly the worst week of his life whilst reliving the worst days of his life.

Link to prompt!

I’ve been thinking back on life lately. Like, was any of that a dream, or was it too real?

- - -

The lab in the basement was always a little unnerving to be in. Exposed wires on unfinished projects, cables running haphazardly across the ground, loose tools scattered everywhere, honestly it’s always been a mess at best. If this were a well known work place, our house would’ve definitely been condemned by now! Walking in now, I immediately regret my decisions up till now. Mom and dad’s latest project may be a bust, but they clearly haven’t cleaned up after they were done!

“Woah! Watch your step there!” Tucker jokes, but this isn’t the first time the floor has been covered in some mysterious substance, let alone a step on the stairs. At least Tucker and Sam seem to be enjoying themselves while I’m stuck with keeping them safe, but what are friends for? “Promise you won’t touch anything in here?” It may be obvious, but I have to ask!

Sam tisked at me sarcastically. “Psh, yeah, I was planning on drinking from mysterious flasks myself. Maybe chew on some cables or steal something radioactive.”

“Sam, I don’t think there would be anything radioactive in here! Danny lives just upstairs from here, wouldn’t he get poisoned if there was?”

“Cable,” I pointed out, just as Tucker was about to trip right over an extension cord, pulling him back for good measure. “Look, I know! Technology, cryptozoology, general weird cyber-goth stuff; I get it! But this stuff is dangerous! You’ve gotta trust me here!”

Sure, they understood of course, but it’s not like they were as serious about it. I’ve lived with this, I know how dangerous the equipment here can be, and I know you need to approach everything here with extreme caution. Maybe that’s why they figured they are safe here with me. Maybe they think I can protect them. I honestly have no idea where they got the idea I could protect anyone.

I could see Tucker shaking, trying so very hard not to pick up the gizmos and gadgets littering the lab to look at closer, but it’s for his safety he doesn’t touch them. I keep an eye on him the most, since Sam is only taking pictures with the camera she brought. I think she brought it so we could work on some project for school, but honestly making memories is more fun. Well, more fun when it’s not in your parents’ ghost hunting lab, anyway. I was watching Tucker lean to look at another side of some kind of circuit board when I heard from Sam again.

“Hey wait! Danny, you have a suit?”

“Ah- maybe? Huh?” Startled, I shot to attention to find Sam picking up a black and white jumpsuit. “Wh- hey!” 

I rush over to snatch it from her hand. It’s safe, clean in fact, and mostly unworn. The jumpsuit itself may not be dangerous, but it’s definitely a blow to an already fragile ego. I hold it out to try and fold it back up properly, but then I hear a click-snap. The camera shutter makes me flinch and I can’t help but glare at Sam.

“Oops?” Sam grins mischievously, brightly, and knowingly. “Hey! Maybe you can try it on!” I really didn’t want to, and she could see it. Sam followed up her request. “Please? I just wanna see it! I’m sure it looks good on you!”

I sigh, knowing defeat and knowing it’s a fairly innocent request. I can wear a jumpsuit fine, and I know it’s tailored to fit me. Heck, maybe it’ll be easier to prevent disasters if I’m protected too! So I step away to put it on over my clothes, listening in on their conversation about the portal itself. Ugh, the portal.

“So they really made a portal?”

“Supposedly, yeah! His parents really seem to believe it could work!”

“But why? We don’t even know if ghosts are real!”

I zip up the front and walk back over to rejoin the conversation, only to find Tucker leaning in closer. He seems to be listening to the hum of machinery. To be honest, it is a nice sound, pretty calming at times, but it can get annoying and usually indicates something live and active. I pull him away by the shoulder as I chime in.

“Well, I think they tried this in college too. Whatever results they found must’ve proven it in their heads that this could work.”

Sam starts snickering, but I can tell by the look she’s giving me that it’s not something I said. In fact, I know exactly what it is. Without saying anything, she walks over and rips off a huge decal of dad’s face from my chest. Honestly, good riddance. I’m sure dad wouldn’t mind a little defacing, as a treat.

“Oh! Idea!” Tucker snaps and points to me as he continues. “We should get a picture of you in the portal like that!”

“Oh yeah!” Sam chimes in. “Yeah in the hollow space there! With you in the suit, standing in front of all of this machinery here, it would look so cool and, maybe even professional!”

Well, it is an interesting idea, and it would look pretty cool. I agree! The jumpsuit has a hood and goggles to protect your scalp and eyes respectively, but we’re not doing anything except posing for a picture. It would look better without the hood anyway, so I leave it down. With that, Sam and Tucker get in position further away while I step inside.

I’ve never been so close, let alone inside of one of my parents’ inventions. Walking in feels surreal. The lights, dots, and lines running across the walls and ceiling are vast and interwoven, and yet so organized and strategically oriented. It’s like one massive circuit board with so many mechanical bits exposed. Clearly this part of the portal wasn’t meant to be seen. As I’m looking around, I feel something hit my foot as I try to take another step, sending a jolt up my spine in a panic. I feel myself lose balance and instinctively I stumble to catch myself. My hand lands on something, usually it would be fine to hold the wall, but in this case I feel something give under my palm. The hum of the portal grows louder, something whirs to life around me, and taking my hand off the wall reveals a button that reads “on” just below it. Realization hits, and I look to Sam and Tucker, but it’s too late. The last thing I see is their panic reflecting mine, before a sharp pain in the back of my neck introduces itself.

- - -

I woke up on the floor. Reality spun for a bit, and I wasn’t sure where I was. I could feel I was laying on some kind of concrete, and I almost thought I was in the lab again. It would’ve been an easy mistake, but I remember now.

I’m in a warehouse, in some city I’ve never known, and I am alone. Sitting up, I rub my hand through my hair, taking a moment to remember where I am and why. I am here because I, Daniel Fenton, am running for my life. Some strange ghosts have been popping up more and more frequently lately, and they’ve been chasing me far more aggressively than any ghost I’ve ever met. Not even Skulker is as bad as these guys! 

In the beginning, there weren’t that many, so they were easy to handle. It was always so strange that they made sounds but never spoke, and they seem to follow pure instinct and emotions. These ghosts don’t banter, have no obvious obsessions, and sometimes I see weird tattoos on them. In fact, there seems to be multiples of them, like blob ghosts. I could fight them off for a while, and I could stop them from attacking random people. A lot of ghost hunters got their infamy and fame for getting rid of these guys too, so it wasn’t that big of a deal. Now, however, it feels like swarms of them are tracking me down at all times. 

Just as I was thinking I could never get a rest from them, I feel a chill and see an icy trail of smoke leave my mouth. It seems it’s time to get moving again. I stand and slap myself in the face for a quick burst of energy before transforming. Almost as if on queue, the shadows cast on the ground rise into solid shapes, puffs of black smoke appear and strange knight looking guys drop in the smoke’s place, and all of their beady yellow eyes stare back at me with what I’ve come to understand is killing intent.

Knowing where they are now, I bolt in the opposite direction, flying straight through walls and ceilings, getting as far from my assailants as possible. These guys are persistent, but it seems most of them don’t know how to fly. Problem is, some do. Once I’m outside, I catch sight of some more of the strange ghosts, these ones winged and colorful. “Are the wings really necessary?” No response, as always. It seems there’s only about, say, 7 total? At least 3 different shapes at a glance. Since they’re in the air, it’s probably safe to say a few ecto-blasts should take care of them no harm done!

A bit of blasting, a bit of punching, a few scratches here and there, and the numbers start dwindling! Sometimes after hitting them enough, they’ll poof and turn into weird heart shaped cores, so I stuff them in the thermos! I can’t exactly dispose of them anywhere, not anymore especially, so this thing is getting a bit crowded. The good news is I don’t try to stuff every ghost I see in there. In fact, the number of flying guys has increased dramatically over time already, so I figured I gotta leave again. 

Of course they followed me. I tried to stop somewhere for a moment when I thought I got enough distance, but there they are! In the distance! Flying towards me! From this vantage point, it’s easy to see just how many of them there are total. I see the ones from inside the building scrambling out, and I can see many more from the shadows and side streets all skittering out as a crowd. “Oh boy,” here we go again.

- - -

Back then, I woke up to a weird feeling that has since become normal. Everything was light and tingly, and yet so, so weak. I could hear shouting, though too muffled to understand right away. When I finally tried to open my eyes, there was a red flashing, giving way to a green glowing light occasionally. When I came to, I saw Tucker and Sam’s faces, panicked and every crying, yelling and begging for me to say something or give a sign that I was ok. I didn’t feel ok, but I tried at least sitting up at the time.

White hair, white gloves, black suit. There might have been a decal, something tells me there wasn’t, but the decal looks cool enough it might as well have always been there. With help I stood up, and we found our way to a mirror so I could see the damage for myself. I was glowing, but not in a figurative way, but more in the way a hot iron will glow white with heat, or maybe how some toxic goo would glow like a vat of glow-sticks. There were my eyes, staring back like green neon signs on a horribly scratched up sign. As I began to panic, I watched my face twist in the mirror into something else, which only made me panic more. The more I panicked the less human I looked, and the less human I looked the more I panicked, but Tucker helped ground me again. Sam comforted me and had me take deep breaths. Before I knew it, I was myself again, black hair and all. Life had never been the same since that day. The way everyone else in Amity Park know it, that was the night of the meteor shower.

- - -

I finally found another moment’s rest. Ironically, it was the presence of another ghost that calmed my nerves. Unfortunately it was Skulker that decided to stop by.

“Well, you sure are far from home, aren’t you?”

“Can you really say I have a home anymore? You know what happened.”

Of course Skulker knew. He smiled knowingly before thankfully changing the subject. “Those shadow ghosts really have it out for you huh? They should really know their place!”

“Heh, yeah, I wonder what I did to piss so many off them off like this!”

“Oh, what didn’t you do!”

Admittedly, he got a laugh out of me. Feeling a bit more at ease, I sit down on a dumpster nearby. Skulker can make himself comfy on his own. I can’t help finding it strange that Skulker is the only other ghost I know that’s approached me so far. I have been running for a few weeks now, so I have gotten pretty far from the ghost portal, but even then there are other ghosts out there! And yet, it almost feels like everyone’s avoiding me. Skulker is the only one that I’ve been able to confide in lately.

“So what do you think their deal is?” I don’t wanna change the subject yet. I have had plenty of time with these guys and I wish I knew what they’re doing.

“You think I would know? You think I would send them after you like that?”

“What? Nah! You hunt alone don’t you?”

“Exactly that, welp! I don’t need any hounds chasing you and herding you to me! I can and will catch you on my own terms!”

“Oh goodie. Always wanted to be mounted on a wall.” The sarcasm might’ve been lost on Skulker, but it helps me stay calm.

“Maybe some day, but today is not that day! I need you in top performance before I can hunt you down proper! For now, I will help you in your time of need. Hunter’s honor.”

“Hunter’s honor…” I respond a little quieter, honestly not sure if that’s a thing. Something about it feels less like a promise, and more like camaraderie. I suppose I could have been considered a hunter, but, “I can’t be a hunter. I’m not hunting anything.”

“Oh, aren’t you? I believe I remember you were hunting for a solution to your uh… situation…”

My situation is not the same! I can’t say that, I couldn’t even bring myself to answer. My situation… it’s hard to explain, it was a stupid spur of the moment decision. Meeting clockwork, seeing Amity Park’s future, knowing what I could become, it’s all a mess I wish I could forget. I stare at a nearby wall, holding my chest, and feeling not only my pulse but a soft drumming of something foreign and new.

I failed to save them. I failed to save my friends from disaster. I don’t know what gave them the impression I could save them, especially if I was the one that put them in danger. After that explosion, there were no survivors of that accident. I saw some kind of light leaving their bodies, I could hear a soft hum from each of the lights. The hum was familiar, but much quieter than the one I’m familiar with. I was scared, and I didn’t want to lose what little what left of my friends and family. So I grabbed on. I rushed to scoop up those little lights before they flew away or shattered with how young and fragile they were. I held them close in grief, and then, they were gone. I could still feel them now, but they weren’t in my arms anymore. What’s left of everyone is right here, with what’s left of me.

“I can’t find a solution if I’m dead.” I realize my poor choice in wording immediately. “Gone. Turned to dust. Reduced to atoms. Nothing could save them then.”

“Well, you wouldn’t have to worry about your grief anymore if, you know, you weren’t conscious anymore? I could put your cores in a jar and put it up on my mantle!”

“Oh what are you, a heartless?”

A beat. A… Heartless?

“Oh, so the welp doesn’t know grammar either, it seems!”

I don’t respond, and he seems to catch on. Why did I say that? Why is it getting to me? What is a heartless and why does it feel familiar? I try to stand again, but my legs start feeling a bit wobbly, and my head gets fuzzy. A heartless. What is a heartless? Why do I know this? My energy is spent, and as the world goes dark I hear a vague shout, and I hit the ground.

[readychilledwine]

Hi! You seem so nice and super sweet. I have some questions to know you! You remind me of a big sister, oh my god something about you is so comforting. :) Anyways, I live in California but I've only lived here for around 7 months. You mentioned before you love coming here, but can I have some places that would be nice to go on vacation? I feel super cooped up in my apartment and want to have a fun time outdoors or something. Thank you! <3

That's seriously so sweet and made me tear up a little bit! Thank you ❤️

We've spent a lot of time in a few different spots in CA, so hopefully, I mention one location near you! The obvious to all of this is beach and book. We are two beach bums when we can be, but I'll hit a few of the cities we've stayed at!

Oceanside is our go to. We like the location, due to military relations so its kind of the perfect spot for us because ✨️family✨️ If you are near that area, the beach at night is so quiet and perfect if you love seashell hunting. Oceanside also has street food/fair events, several cute metaphysical shops, and a few really good restaurants. One of them is a rooftop/desktop outdoor situation, it overlooks the docking area there, and at sunset is stunning.

In the San Diego area, I love going to Balboa Park. There's several gardens that are cheap or free to go to. During November to December, one of them is filled with gorgeous variations of poinsettias. There's also a ton of museums there, cultural houses to peep at, and gorgeous architecture. There's also a shopping area that's cute for giggles to just walk around. It's called Seaport Village. They used to have a shop just FILLED with coffee mugs. I loved it 😅

Heading north a little bit to LA where my partner is from. He grew up near skid row and has pretty vivid nightmares still about his kidhood there, so we tend to avoid the downtown area. When we do go, he always takes me to The Last Bookstore (some of you may recognize the name, it is the one you're thinking), it is just an experience. They sell antique books, collector's editions, and rare first editions along with new books. They have MAGICAL displays made from books. Griffith Park is also very beautiful with lots of things to go to. I'm a fan of anywhere with a botanic and butterfly garden 😅 and that brings me to our favorite spot in LA (minus the beach and hiking in Griffith Park) The Huntington Library. It's a library, botanic garden, and art museum all in one. It is 100% for me and not for him. He loves me dearly, and I am spoiled. There's obviously a lot of other things to do in LA (Disney, Orlando studios, ect), but we've been waiting to explore and experience those things until we had Littles to enjoy them with.

Popping between LA and San Fran is Sequoia National Park. If you are going to go and have never been, plan for a few days. It's... almost like breathtaking how small you realize you really are there.

San Francisco is kind of just... I wish I could describe it as something other than home feeling, considering I'm a midwest farm girl, but it has this magical home calling. We have a main thing we really like to do, and it's a little pricy (but not as pricy as the next location ive been treated to). He loves to see Alcatraz. 😅 he's obsessed. Otherwise it is a LOT of hiking and just trying new food places there. I just really love the vibes there for some reason.

Napa Valley I consider its own place, and it holds the most special place in my heart. He took me there for my 25th birthday. It is pricy, but wine country is so just relaxing. We stayed at this hotel, and we literally just walked out of our rooms patio door and into the vineyard. Im not 100% sure how much our week there was, but he told me not to expect anything for Christmas or valentines that year 😅

If you want really hot and in land Cali, my brothers and baby daddy went to Death Valley for a few days. They started the trip there, then went to Vegas (youngest brother's 21st birthday). My older brother said it was unbelievably hot (literally duh my sweet summer child), but he said the 4 days the 3 of them were there was a lot of fun. They did a lot of trail hiking and drank a lot of water. They all do not regret the choice to check it out. I was not invited on the boys' trip, so I didn't get to go 😑 I'm not salty AT ALL I didn't plan the trip for them or anything 🤣

If you're looking to get out of California, Colorado. Find your soul in Colorado. I highly recommend Georgetown. Not too far from Denver, not so high up in the mountains you have to anxious about snowfall and getting trapped, and I'll just attach the view from the hike into the mountains we went on.

I will push Colorado to anyone needing to get away and get into nature if it is in their budget ❤️ I've never found a town in Colorado I didn't think was stunning.

If you want to stay on the West Coast, Oregon. We went to Crater Lake National Park. One word, Ethereal. A little busy, but so so worth it.

No matter where you go, if you're getting into nature and needing to re-center your soul, find a creek with running water and just put your hands or feet in it, or get into the ocean (to where you're comfortable) and just let yourself have a moment of silence. Water is purifying and healing. It's one of the most powerful elements in our world, and it is where I find the strongest connection to Mother Nature ❤️

Let me know if you want more travel spots!

[halehavetogosometime]

Prompting in the comments sent me hunting down an old version of this meme to try to source it, and while the blog I think I originally pulled from three or four memes ago is now defunct, here is a reblog of one of those posts:

www.tumblr.com/haleyesido/180851768928

Which prompted me to read through the questions and I realized there are a couple that I must have cut when I answered this for The Witcher fandom a few years back (where I definitely also either added my own questions or pulled them from another version of this meme, cuz there are questions on my version that are not on the original post), but which are now applicable again in a contemporary fandom!

Who sneaks up behind the other and startles them, causing the fear wetting?

I mean, there's an argument to be made that neither one would because everybody's had enough fear to last a lifetime... On the other hand, I suspect they are also prankster shithead college age dudes, So I suspect it would be endlessly funny if either of them succeeded at this.

Who hogs the bathroom while the other squirms outside the door?

See above re: prankster shithead young dudes.

Steve would be hogging the bathroom just to be a shit, Eddie would give him a hard time for primping and All the hairspray etc, and then would threaten to pee on something that Steve you know values clean if Steve doesn't come the hell out now...

But Eddie would absolutely do it right back the other way, give Steve a hard time about not being able to hold it, until Steve either threatens to pee someplace Eddie would prefer he didn't, maybe on some band T-shirt or something, or would go find some other place to pee anyway.

Who wets because they were too shy to ask someone where the bathroom was/if they could go.

This would be a stretch to set up I think, because I think particularly with All of the apocalypse stopping etc, I would be surprised if either one of them was shy in this way... But I could see talking your way into maybe particularly Eddie being reticent to ask specifically for assistance maybe? While recovering from injury? Actually either one of them might be stubborn or prideful enough to not want to ask the other for help when they need to use the bathroom but weren't physically capable of going on their own.

Otherwise I guess maybe Eddie? He seems the more anxiety-prone of the two.

Actually, I can almost see Steve getting in that pickle... Not necessarily around Eddie, but maybe back when he was dating lots of girls? Like, maybe feeling uncomfortable like it would be rude to ask when like over at her house meeting her parents etc? But in that context, I can't see Steve letting it go long enough to actually risk wetting.

Who pees in the shower?

Yes. They definitely both do. Eddie will say it is to save water, and Steve just is an athlete and has peed in many places, particularly like showers after practice or something. Why the hell wouldn't he.

Who locates the bathroom on maps prior to visiting someplace?

In truth, I think Robin, not that she's involved in this meme, but by extension Steve. Thinking of it from a you know somewhat babysitter perspective, I can see him wanting to know ahead of time so that he can better look after his horde of tweens in the backseat.

But really, if it's a group road trip, I think Robin, and she will have told Steve. But the information will be on that end.

Or, the argument could be made, not necessarily looking up restrooms so many so much as gas stations. Whichever one is driving then, that's the one that has planned for where the gas stations are.

Steddie (stranger things) omo shipping meme

This is a kink thing, folks, discussion ppl desperate to pee.

dldr

I love running through this series of questions when I’m all fired up on a “new” ship. I’m a multi shipper here as well, but I’ll start with these two yahoos, Steve and Eddie (some qs I approach as if Steddie are a couple in the future and living together, and some  I stick more closely to canon for)

 .

Who gets desperate because they didn’t want to get up from a video game/work/other activity

This is definitely more likely to be an Eddie move– hyperfocus can be a bitch, man. I can see him reading or especially working on a campaign or music and just putting it off or even not noticing until someone else, maybe Steve, sitting across the room, like, notices the quality of the bounce has changed and totally clocks it as Eddie-has-to-pee instead of the normal Eddie-finding-the-right-stimulation-threshold. Maybe Steve would pop over with a drink, or maybe he made himself a sandwich and did one for Eddie as well, so he intentionally interrupt Eddie’s focus which, like, normally he wouldn’t… but in a case like this he’d do it intentionally, “Hey babe, I made some for me, you want some too?” and Eddie jolts out of it, comes back to the world, accepts whatever Steve was giving him, and then Oh-So-Casually scoots rapidly towards the bathroom.

Can also see, like, Eddie hyperfocusing on a day when he’s home and Steve’s at work, only for Steve to come home and interrupt and Eddie to realize he’s Absolutely Desperate.

In neither case do I see him actually really wetting himself, not unless they play these games. 

Now Steve… I can definitely see Steve specifically having had close calls or incidents related to sports? Like, many an athlete has many a time pissed themselves, or peed right off the field etc because they are SO well hydrated and sometimes it just is like that. 

But then again, that’s “can’t” stop the activity more than it is “don’t want to”

Who insists they can hold it even when they can’t

Either. I can see Eddie more often being the one, like, not in tune with what his body is up to and getting into a tight spot and then doubling-down bluffing about it… but i can see either one of them getting, like, competitive about it, not willing to be the one who admits he’s gotta pee first… or imbibing substances that mess with his control… i especially can see Drunk!Former-Frat-type Steve forgetting that he broke the seal and not remembering he’s not gonna be able to hold it, etc, but trying to bluff his way through anyway

By the same token, can see high!eddie having nooooooo idea how bad hes gotta pee, really.

Who pees in a bottle because they didn’t want to leave their warm bed at night

Oh absolutely either one. 

Steve maybe doesn’t do it as much, was less in the habit when he lived in his parent’s pristine house, or when the likelihood of having a girl over was high, wouldn’t want to miss something like that and have a potential partner find it…

And def after they are together, if one catches the other at it, he’s gonna give him good-natured shit about it, but yeah. No big deal.

Who doesn’t pay attention to their fluid intake

Steve, maybe, if he’s drinking alcohol (otherwise, he’s more likely to just Always Be well hydrated, less “not paying attention” and more “always shooting for hydrated, even if that means peeing a lot more”)… but Eddie probs more normally, vacillating wildly between over and under hydrated. 

Who has the larger bladder

I can see arguments for either, steve has to pee a lot, but that’s cuz he’s usually well hydrated. Can see that either resulting in him Not holding as much, cuz always peeing, or holding plenty, just, there’s always plenty to hold…

And I can see Eddie with a monster bladder cuz he’s always putting it off, and therefore always holding… or the opposite, especially if he’s bad about, like, drinking water, and it usually drinking, like, coffee or other things that are stimulants/diuretics/bladder irritants.

Who is more likely to have a shy bladder

I think it could be fun to write either one that way… but of the two, probs more likely Eddie. He’s a more baseline-anxious type to begin with… and I think athletics to the degree Steve has participated are very likely to cure anyone of that– when you gotta, then you gotta, and you gotta take every opportunity, even when you’re packed in with a bunch of other athletes and there’s maybe not much privacy

Who will only use an appropriate facility

I don’t think either would care, really. Steve has definitely pissed in some “convenient” places during/after games, or in folks’ backyards during parties, but also i bet Eddie has pissed in the woods in particular many a time.

If we gave either one a shy bladder, that could be a component, but i don’t think it much is if we’re trying to be canon compliant.

More likely to have a holding kink

I want to say eddie, who i think is more likely to be kinkier in general/aware of his kinks. 

But steve, between the athletics, the drinking at parties, the general competitiveness, and the fact that he definitely definitely has had a great deal MORE sex than eddie– it’s entirely possible, that if he had one he would also have figured it out.

Who challenges the other to a holding contest

Either. They’re competitive. Actually, maybe it’s a comment/dare/etx from Robin or one of the kids.

How would each react to having and accident

Lol depends on how sober they are and or if there are extenuating Upside down shenanigans.

I can see eddie being embarrassed/humiliated maybe? If it was, like, sober in company or while he was trying to be cool or smth. Like maybe if it was Steve catching him coming out of a hyperfocus sesh and he doesn’t make it, maybe then he’d be embarrassed, especially if they were dating and hadn’t been that long. 

But if he’s in an altered state and/or really after all the shit they’ve been through, idk that he would care that much.

Similar for steve, like, if it were to happen somehow like on a date or smth, some situ where he was trying to be Cool Steve, maybe he’d b embarrassed about it. Maybe if it happened during sex, where he prides himself on always giving a Good Time… maybe then he’d be bothered… but otherwise, nah. Again, intense athletics + altered states + the upside freaking down, who gives a shit.

How would each react to the other being desperate/having an accident

I mean, with horniness in anything I write. But otherwise…

So if Eddie’s in the pickle, genuine stressed about whether he’s gonna make it/or in the aftermath, Steve’s gonna be good about it (in the later seasons, might have been a real Ass earlier). He’s gonna do his best to get Eddie wherever he’s got to go, or find him a bottle, or encourage him to piss on a tree or whatever, the fuck does anyone care about it. Clothes wash. 

He might tease some, definitely if this is pre-established kinky game stuff for them, but he’s gonna do his best to make Eddie not feel bad/keep other folks from knowing, etc.

In the reverse situ, Eddie would definitely come out of the gate making fun, but he’d shift Very quickly into being genuinely helpful/trying to make Steve laugh about it (even if laughing isn’t exactly ideal, lol)

Who is more likely to wet because of anxiety/fear

Probs eddie. If steve was prone to that, it would have come up almost certainly when Robin mentioned it in the bathroom at Starcourt.

Plus eddie just reads as a nervier dude in general. Dunno how likely, but he’d def be more likely

Who is more likely to wet deliberately

Either if part of some kinky game, steve if during a fight or smth when he knows there’s no point devoting any more brainspace to it (like sometimes in athletics), Steve maybe also more generally (probs again in context of drinking etc) more when they are living at home, partly because he’s not gonna worry so much about ruining his clothes/shoes? Like, not that eddie wears real fancy stuff, but sometimes maybe he does, and especially steve has an empty house with built-in washer dryer and eddie Shares a small space with his uncle and likely does laundry elsewhere.

[sis-tafics]

Our Little Family - The Doggo

Summary: You didn’t expect a new friend

Our Little Family Masterlist

Our Little Secret Masterlist

Characters: Dean, Sam, Reader, Eileen

Pairings: Dean x Reader,

Word Count: 1700

Warnings: language, fluff, little angst

A/N:  Thank you so much for reading. It’s been a hot minute and just trying to get my feet wet. I used my old taglist, hopefully that is ok. @bamby0304​ requested this about 3 years ago

@deans-baby-momma thank you for the beta!

“Pup-py?” Kasey’s voice rings clear as a bell from her carseat.

You turn around, looking to where she is pointing out the window of the Impala. Sure enough there is that mutt you’ve seen strolling up and down the gravel road since you moved in, covered in mud and digging through a bag of takeout someone had tossed in the ditch.

Kyle is fast asleep in his carseat, but Evie’s head pops up, looking to where her little sister is pointing.

“Yeah, that’s a puppy” Dean affirms, smiling slightly, slowing down for the turn to the house. The dog’s head snaps up, watching the Impala idle by. It definitely knew your car, but you and the kids hadn’t been able to get near it, though you’ve tried a few times.

“Dean, hold on,” you dig through the McDonalds bag, finding the chicken nuggets that Evie didn’t finish.

“You feed that mutt, it will just keep sticking around,��� Dean mutters as you roll down the window, clucking at the dirty dog, who is so filthy you can’t even tell what it is.

“Here buddy,” you toss what’s left out near the driveway.

“It’s not like he belongs to anyone anyway,” you shrug.

Dean hits the gas, shaking his head, “You’re getting soft in your old age.”

“Whatever,” you roll your eyes, “it’s not hurting anything.”

He gives you a side eye and you smile, sitting back against the seat as he takes the long driveway slowly. The twins had had a checkup today, Evie had had first grade meet and greet and you were exhausted. You never thought kids would be more tiring than hunting, but maybe you were just getting soft.

“Mommy, can we play outside?” Evie asks as soon as Dean has the car in park and you are getting the twins out of the carseats. Kasey struggles against you, wanting to get on the ground and walk. It’s her new favorite thing to do, along with running away from you and tripping flat on her face. She definitely inherited your coordination. 

“Yeah you can sweetie, you just have to stay in the fence in the back please,” you know Dean has plans with Sam to head into town and work on setting up the shop, their new hideaway for looking like upstanding citizens. 

Evie takes off right away, crashing through the front door, heading straight through the back.

“Jesus child, one second,” you set Kasey on the ground who tries to take off after her sister, but stumbles after about ten feet, wiping out. She doesn’t cry, just pushes herself back up and keeps on trucking.

Dean chuckles beside you, Kyle in one arm, passed out against his Dad’s shoulder with his thumb in his mouth, “Who knew the girls would be the wild ones?”

You roll your eyes, “I tried to warn you.”

He wraps his free arm around your waist, pulling you in and kissing the top of your head, “That you did…Do you want me to pick up dinner on my way home?”

“Only if you don’t want frozen pizza,” you sling the diaper bag over your shoulder and head up the steps.

“Frozen pizza?” he laughs, smacking your ass playfully, “Expanding your cooking horizons?”

“Shut-up,” you dump the bag on the table, reaching around and taking Kyle, his arms wrapping around your neck in his sleep, holding close.

Dean smiles, “Pizza actually doesn’t sound too bad and I don’t know how long Sammy wants to work tonight. I’ll just give you a call when I’m on my way home?”

You nod, “Love you.”

Dean cups your chin, pressing his chapped lips against yours, kissing you deeply before whispering, “I love you too baby.”

____

“How much shit do we actually have?” you mutter to yourself, pulling another box in from the garage. You guys have been here almost six months and you are still unpacking. The little stuff just hadn’t been a priority, but you don’t like stacks and stacks of boxes sitting there either. It was a good pastime when the kids were playing in the sandbox and playground Dean had built shortly after you had moved in. 

You sit cross legged on the ground, sipping some wine as you open it. Old photo books. Shaking your head, you open the top one, a picture of Dean and Sam, with you in the middle in front of the Impala staring back, 2009 scrawled in the corner in Dean’s writing. 

You shake your head and chuckle to yourself, fuck you’ve all gotten old. Sam’s lost the babyface. Dean, either ten years ago or today, is still finer than hell, but he has more crinkles around his eyes now, hair getting mixed with more gray. And you, well you’ve lost the look of a weathered hunter living on gas station food and gained some wrinkles in the process. 

Picking up another book, a picture of Dean holding you close, his arm slung around your shoulder, pulling you against him as he kisses your forehead. Your belly starting to show, Evie in there probably kicking away as you laugh in your husband’s arms.

You touch the picture gingerly. You wouldn’t trade the life that Dean had made for you and your family for anything.

“MOMMY!” A piercing scream pulls you from your daydream, the book tossed to the side and your wine spilled to the floor in your haste. 

“MOMMY!” Barks and snarls follow. You run through the house, grabbing your 9mm from above the fridge, crashing through the backdoor with it drawn. 

“Mommy!” Evie sobs, holding her brother and sister in the far corner of the yard against the fence. That mangy dog in the fence with them, hackles up, barking and growling and your heart sinks in your chest.

“Hey,” you shout, flipping off the safety, one hundred percent ready to shoot if it moves towards your kids.

It turns to you, growling again, before looking back towards the sandbox, snapping and barking.Evie goes to run towards you and the dog immediately turns to her, too close for you to get a shot off, nipping at her feet and driving her back  to the corner. 

“Mommy!”

“It’s ok baby,” you try to stay calm as the dog dives into the sand, snarling and digging. Taking advantage, you sprint to your kids, shoving the gun down the back of your pants and grabbing the two younger ones, Evie wrapping her arms around your legs. 

Before you can start pulling them back to the house, the dog snarls again, shaking his head vigorously, between his teeth the biggest rattlesnake you have ever seen. 

“Jesus fuck,” you hiss, setting the little ones back down, giving everyone a once over  and turning to Evie, “take your brother and sister inside as fast as you can. Go now!”

She cries and nods, running as fast as she can, dragging the toddlers with her. Snarling and hissing fill the air as the dog shakes his head viciously, refusing to let go of the snake until the head falls out of his mouth while the tail still hangs from it.

He shakes it one more time, dropping it before looking at the door the kids had disappeared through and then back to you, wagging his tail and sitting. 

You walk past him, opening the gate so he can leave, walking up the porch stairs when you hear the nails hitting the wood behind you. As you turn, his butt hits the porch with a thud. 

You put your hands on your hips as his tongue lolls out, panting, watching you intently.

“Well you’ve never been friendly before,” you chide, and his butt wiggles faster. You shake your head, Dean is going to be so pissed.

 “Well, c’mon,” you open the door and motion for him to get in the house. He tilts his head, intelligent eyes assessing,”you just saved my kids, I can’t exactly leave you outside now, can I?”

He barks once, trotting past you into the house like he has been there all his life, “You are getting a damn bath though.”

____

“Baby?” Dean’s voice shouts from downstairs as the door shuts behind him.

“Upstairs in the bathroom,” you call back, shutting the water off.

“Okay Evie, you need to scrub him again, he still stinks.”

Kyle pinches his nose from where he is sitting in the shower, giggling as the dog shakes water all over all three of them. 

“Pu-ppy, nooo,” Kasey whines as it gets all over her with the soap suds that she is already wearing.

Once you had gotten the first few layers of mud off, there was a beautiful blue coat of some type of cattle dog underneath. 

Evie dumps more shampoo on him and they all start scrubbing as you hear Dean open the door behind you, “What the hell is all this?”

The dog barks and takes off, wet and soapy past Dean, skidding down the hallway, barking excitedly.

“Bond, no!” Evie yells, taking off after him.

“You better get him back here,” you laugh, looking up at your husband’s shocked face.

“Since when do we have a dog?”

You smile, standing and wrapping your arms around his waist, kissing his neck, “Since about the time he killed a rattlesnake in the backyard, saving your three children.”

“What?”

You nod, “Jumped the fence, had them in the corner while he ripped it in half in the sandbox. Won’t let them out of his sight now.”

He raises an eyebrow, “Bond?”

You chuckle, “Evie wanted a name that Daddy would like so we can keep him.”

He wraps his arm around you, shaking his head, laughing, “Doesn't sound like I get much of a choice in it now anyway.”

 tags:

@squirrel-moose-winchester​

@winchesterenthusiast​

@atc74​

@marvelouslyme96​

@ellen-reincarnated1967​

@eyes-of-a-disney-princess​

@feelmyroarrrr​

@its-my-perky-nipples​

@kittenofdoomage​

@evansrogerskitten​

@mrswhozeewhatsis​

@meeshw777​

@supernatural-jackles​

@thing-you-do-with-that-thing​

@wheresthekillswitch​

@chelsea072498​

@sandlee44​

@jayankles​

@ria132love​

@sassysupernaturalsweetheart​

@docharleythegeekqueen​

@riversong-sam​

@meganwinchester1999​

@mogaruke​

@social-life-no-thanks​

@ruprecht0420​

@emwinchester1​

@fandomismyspirit​

@ladywinchester1967​

@tiffanycaruso​

@fangirl-and-medstudent-help​

@sofreddie​

@hollygopossumlovesj2​

@cherrycokegirls1​

@im-a-light-child​

@shamelesslydean​​

@roxyspearing​

@dkpink123​

@winsister91​

@spnwoman​

@peridottea91​

@polina-93​

@ericaprice2008​

@veevm​

@carryonmyswansong​

@whimsicalrobots​

@phantomphan4evr​

@writingaworldofmyown​

@babypink224221​

@kdfrqqg​

@adoptdontshoppets​

@iamcraving​

@maddiepants​

@closetspngirl​

@spnskinnyballs​​

@gh0stgurl​

@lastactiontricia​

@moonstar86​

@emoryhemsworth​

@superwholockmarauder​

@mersuperwholocked-lowlife​

@smoothdogsgirl​

@deansgirl215​

@winchesterprincessbride​

@randomparanoid​

@emptywithout​

@getnaildbyme​

@holyfuckloueh​

@sylverminx​

@mickey-m399​

@seelieprincessalanna​

@20th-centu-fairy-girl​

@kazchester-fanfiction​

@somilotopia​

@geekgirl1213-blog​

@heyitscam99​

@tumbler-tidbits​

@shhhs3cret​

@pjofangirl18​

@roonyxx​

@spn-fan-girl-173​

@katiecurls75​

@midnightsilver16830​

@blackcherrywhiskey​

@thetardishasaquidditchpitch​

@flamencodiva​

@cosicas-cuquis​

@mtngirlforever​

@deanscarlett​

@torn-and-frayed​

@milo-winchester-4ever​

@moonlessnight14​

@dean-winchesters-bacon​

@clarewinchester​

@pisces-cutie​

@tamtamlov​​

@deansenwackles​

@somilotopia​

@elara98azalea​

@allthings-fantasy​

@claitynroberts​

@uthers-bald-head​

@dw-k67​

@cosicas-cuquis​

@akshi8278​

@justrealizedimmascifygurl​

[robininthelabyrinth]

Nie Huaisang is the cutest thing monsters have ever seen, they can be yao dragons or giant turtles one look at nhs and they want to feed hug or kidnapt him nmj trainning involved recovering his baby brother from every monsters nest around qinge

ao3

“I’m sorry,” Nie Mingjue said, his teeth gritted together and his arms shaking from the strain of holding Baxia up. “He’s mine.”

The massive tiger glared down at him over Baxia’s blade, currently stuck in its teeth, and growled something.

“I know,” Nie Mingjue said. His legs were shaking now, too. “I know, trust me, I know! I’m human, he’s – young, yes, yes, I know. But he’s my little brother! I’m not giving him up!”

The tiger spat out the blade, knocking Nie Mingjue backwards on his ass.

“And when you change your mind?” the tiger demanded. “Will you abandon him then?”

“No!” Nie Mingjue exclaimed. “Never! He’s my brother!”

“Mark your words,” the tiger said ominously. “Or else.”

It turned and stalked off, its tail waving arrogantly in the air, until its towering white form disappeared into the distance.

Nie Mingjue sighed in relief. “Huaisang?” he called, and a small head popped out of the nest the tiger had started building, blinking owlishly at him. “Come on, come to da-ge. It’s time to go home.”

“But Master Tiger said we were going to play…”

“Yes, well, he wanted to play for too long,” Nie Mingjue said. “Only a few centuries, give or take. Let’s go.”

-

It started back when Nie Huaisang was born.

No, more accurately, it started when Nie Mingjue’s father fell in love with someone he probably oughtn’t have, which according to the sect was not a terribly uncommon problem for him to have, and decided to bring home a bride.

Nie Mingjue could still remember the first time he’d seen the Second Madame Nie. They’d all been lined up to greet her, all the sect and close members of the clan in rows according to rank, Nie Mingjue fidgeting in the inside of the house proper in his first tangle with formal clothing outside of the discussion conferences. She had come sweeping in with her head held as high as a princess, seductive and bewitching.

Every movement had been perfect, the eyes of all the men fogging over in lust and the women in admiration – or visa versa, depending on their personal preferences – and a wicked smile had lit up her face when she had stepped across the threshold, officially becoming the sect leader’s wife, and maybe everything would have gone along with whatever plan she’d had back then if she hadn’t next seen him.

“Oh, look at you,” she exclaimed, rushing over to pinch Nie Mingjue’s cheeks between her hands. “What a delectable little morsel you are!”

“Uh,” Nie Mingjue said, staring up at her with big round somewhat-worried eyes.

“You charming little dumpling,” she said. “You adorable mouthful of meat! Spoonful of egg yolk!”

Nie Mingjue cast his eyes around to see if anyone would be willing to help him.

“My eldest son,” Nie Mingjue’s father said, not without pride – albeit perhaps a puzzled sort of pride. “He’s probably just about old enough to come to the forecourt, if you don’t want him to live with you –”

“Oh no,” she said. “He’s definitely living with me.”

And so she stayed, and Nie Mingjue stayed with her, and she doted on him in a way he found pleasant if mildly disconcerting. Within a year, she was pregnant, and irritated with it; six months after that, she was round and complaining, even though Nie Mingjue solemnly assured her that she was as beautiful as ever.

“This is your fault, you know,” she told him, and he blinked at her. “It is! Don’t get me wrong, your father’s a charming bull when he wants to be, and of course he fucks like a champion stud, but I stayed here for you, my little cabbage roll, my charming chunk of liver.”

She patted her belly.

“That means this here is all because of you. So you’d better take responsibility!”

Nie Mingjue considered the issue for a little. The argument seemed plausible, so he raised his hands and put them on her rounded stomach. “I will take care and watch over him for all my life,” he vowed, and the baby inside kicked his hand in response, sealing the pact.

“Oh you are so cute,” she said, pressing her hands to her cheeks. “My darling pork bun! My little fish cake! I could eat you right up, if only you were just a little bit older!”

When Nie Huaisang was born, she disappeared in a welter of blood, but Nie Mingjue’s oath remained.

The trouble started after that.

-

“You can’t raise a cub like that properly,” the winged lion argued, bating its wings as if that would help it make its point better.

Nie Mingjue glared at him. “Watch me!”

“It’s for your own good, little human. He needs his own kind –”

“I’m not listening to a treasure-seeker!”

The lion scowled at him. “I’ll have you know that most humans think I’m good luck!”

“You’re not trying to steal most humans’ little brothers, are you?!”

The winged lion sighed, a deep sound, so very noble and long-suffering that Nie Mingjue couldn’t resist the urge to lift his foot and kick the lion right in the paw.

“Brat!”

“Don’t care!” he shouted. “You leave my brother alone! He’s my responsibility, not yours! Piss off!”

“You can’t even feed him properly -”

“I’ll figure it out!” Nie Mingjue bared his teeth and wished he was old enough for a saber.

“You little…fine. Fine! I’ll bring you a book on how to feed a huli jing kit, and you keep to it, you hear me?”

“I will,” Nie Mingjue said. “But don’t you even think of taking him away!”

“On your own head be it,” the winged lion grumbled. “Not everyone’s as understanding as me.”

-

“Why are you wet?” Nie Mingjue’s father asked him.

“Water monkeys,” Nie Mingjue said shortly. “There was a nest.”

“Water monkeys? Don’t they normally stay away from people…? Or, I suppose, were these ones feral?”

“Thieves.”

“Ah. Well, nothing to be done about it, I suppose…bad luck for you to run into them here, of all places. But good experience! How many people your age can say that they fought water monkeys?”

“Can we go home?” Nie Mingjue asked, a little plaintively, and rubbed his nose. “How much can you really have to say to the Jiang sect, anyway?”

His father chuckled. “More than either of us would like, unfortunately. But if you’ve had enough of water, which no one can blame you for, maybe you and Huaisang can go shopping in the pier instead?”

That would work, Nie Mingjue thought, and nodded happily.

(Sect Leader Jiang was extremely embarrassed about the ghostly rats in the night-market – he claimed they’d never seen neither nose nor tail of them before the Nie brothers had accidentally tripped over their trap and had to flee from the swarm...)

-

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Nie-er-gongzi,” the white-clad cultivator from the mountain said, smiling broadly and saluting deeply.

Xiao Xingchen had made himself famous during his first half-dozen night-hunts alone for his extraordinary grace, bearing and strength, and he said he was on a mission to help the world. He was beautiful, virtuous, and matched each ideal of gentlemanly arts.

Sects throughout the cultivation world were drooling at the thought of enticing him to join them, fighting for the opportunity to put in a good word with him.

Not all sects.

Nie Mingjue stepped forward, purposely putting Nie Huaisang behind him.

“Don’t you even think about it,” he said, hand on the hilt of his saber. “Buzz off, birdbrain.”

Xiao Xingchen might wear white, but Nie Mingjue knew a zhuque chick when he saw one.

-

“I found something for my aviary, da-ge!” Nie Huaisang, seven years old and delighted with his clumsy autonomy, announced.

Nie Mingjue, less than a full year into his new role as sect leader, rubbed his eyes. “Oh?” he asked, only somewhat wanting to scream endlessly into the void, which was better than usual. “That’s nice, Huaisang…”

“Come look! It’s so pretty!”

“I’m a bit busy –”

“But da-ge!”

Nie Mingjue sighed and got up, following Nie Huaisang to the door only to come to a complete stop.

“You have got to be fucking kidding me,” he said to the fenghuang currently pretending to be a rooster in a cage, as if anyone would actually mistake phoenix flames for regular feathers. “Do you have no dignity left?!”

-

“You can’t adopt the bashe,” Nie Mingjue said to Nie Huaisang, who pouted. “It eats elephants; we’d be broke within three months.”

He turned to the giant python.

“You can’t adopt Huaisang,” he said. “I will literally murder you.”

-

“Why can’t I go watch the eclipse?” Nie Huaisang complained. “Everyone else is going!”

“I’m not risking a tiangou.”

“The…dog that eats the sun? Really, da-ge, is that even real?”

“You know what,” Nie Mingjue said, “you’re grounded just for saying that.”

Nie Huaisang grinned.

-

“Maybe I want to go and live among the qilin!” Nie Huaisang screamed, fourteen and hormonal about it.

“Well you don’t get a choice!” Nie Mingjue bellowed back.

“You’re not my father! I don’t have to listen to what you say!”

“I’m your fucking sect leader and yes you do!”

“I hate you!”

“I don’t care if you hate me! You still aren’t going to go live in a field with some magic pointy deer and that’s final!”

The qilin herd wisely chose to withdraw.

-

“Da-ge,” Jin Guangyao hissed, and Nie Mingjue looked up from his work at him – he hadn’t heard Meng Yao this upset since he’d shoved him into a closet to get him out of way during the whole dangkang boar hunt debacle. “Da-ge, there’s a dragon outside.”

“Again?” Nie Mingjue said, standing up to stretch and feeling oddly unbalanced. They’d just finished another session with the song of Clarity, so he really shouldn’t be feeling like this; he would need to write to Lan Xichen again about his fears that the treatment really wasn’t working. Lan Xichen would probably only say to give it more time, another chance, but still… “Let me go talk to them. Dragons are the worst.”

“No, da-ge, you don’t understand,” Jin Guangyao said. “It’s not a water-serpent or – or even a jiaolong – it’s a dragon.”

“A flood-dragon is a type of dragon,” Nie Mingjue said, following Jin Guangyao outside. “You know that, it’s in the name, what’s the big – oh, I see. It’s a celestial dragon.”

Jin Guangyao glared at him with an expression suggesting that he was under-reacting, but Nie Mingjue really didn’t have the capacity in him to reach with appropriate fervor at the moment. He and Nie Huaisang had been fighting a lot recently, every little thing escalating into a giant argument, and he was no longer sure if he was doing the right thing in trying to force Nie Huaisang onto the path of his ancestors. After all, unlike Nie Mingjue, Nie Huaisang had – somewhat different ancestors, on his maternal side.

And, he supposed, Nie Huaisang was old enough to decide otherwise, if he truly wished…

Still, Nie Mingjue was as stubborn as a mule and had no intention of giving up his baby brother without a fight, so he braced himself and went over to the frankly massive creature draped over the entrance gateway and much of the training yard that the entirety of the Nie sect was doing its utmost best to pretend that they weren’t seeing.

Nie Huaisang was sitting on the thing’s five claws – an imperial celestial dragon, apparently – because of course he was.

“Excuse me,” Nie Mingjue called up to the dragon, which turned its head to regard him, an entire production that took nearly a quarter ké to accomplish. “The brat there is mine, please return him.”

“Da-ge!” Jin Guangyao hissed again, but Nie Mingjue waved him away.

“You have raised him well,” the dragon said, which was…a good deal nicer than most of these interactions usually went.

“…thanks?” Nie Mingjue said suspiciously, ignoring Jin Guangyao’s splutters of “It talks?!” “I think?”

“I have chosen to grant you a boon,” the dragon announced.

“…right,” Nie Mingjue said. “If this ‘boon’ is that you’ll take him off my hands, I’m afraid I’m going to have to refuse. He may be trouble, but he’s still my brother.”

“Da-ge!” Nie Huaisang exclaimed, indignant. “Don’t be rude. I asked him for this!”

Nie Mingjue frowned at him, unable to resist the feeling of hurt even though he’d already told himself to expect something like this. “…you want to leave?”

“No, da-ge, don’t be ridiculous. I asked him to improve your health!”

Ah.

“Huaisang –” he started to say.

“Don’t you ‘Huaisang’ me!” his little brother shouted. “I know you’re trying to hide it, but it’s getting worse, isn’t it? San-ge told me so! He said I should get ready!”

Nie Mingjue made a mental note to strangle Jin Guangyao, who had no right to say something like that to Nie Huaisang even if maybe it wasn’t the worst idea in the world to emotionally prepare Nie Huaisang for the upcoming bereavement and inheritance he would need to face.

“Anyway, he said to get ready, so I did!”

“You can’t just ask a divine dragon to fix me, Huaisang. That’s not how this works.”

“Uh, it totally does, and I did, and he agreed. So there!”

Nie Mingjue crossed his arms and glared. “And what did he want in return?”

“The boon is a reward for your past merit, not a trade for the deeds of the future,” the dragon said, not even slightly hiding how its whiskers were shaking with suppressed laughter. “You have travelled a difficult road, and borne the weight of it well. And besides…”

“Besides?”

“If you were to die, he would undoubtedly petition the creatures of the underworld to return you.”

“Well, fuck,” Nie Mingjue said, having not considered that. “Fine. Whatever. Heal me and I’ll try to keep an eye on my health going forward.”

Maybe more Clarity? He could try to free up his schedule, get in a few more sessions…

“I just give up,” Jin Guangyao said behind him. “I just fucking give up.”

Nie Mingjue, assuming that he was talking about Nie Huaisang’s nonsense, agreed whole-heartedly.

[amjustagirl]

Summary: You and Kuroo need to team up to defeat the vermin in your home. 

Pairing: Kuroo / f! reader

Genre: Unadulterated fluff

Wordcount: 604

Masterlist here

Previously: Sakusa Kiyoomi. Bokuto Koutaro

Requests for this series: Open!

Dedicated to @forgetou​, my partner in crime on in this tumblrsphere.

A hair raising scream. The shatter of glass. The sound of a body hitting the floor with a thud. 

Kuroo doesn’t even pause to kick off his shoes in his haste to rip the door open to dash into the house, his heart lodging in his throat at the thought of finding you injured or hurt or - heaven forbid, dead. 

He only exhales when he finds you, alive and whole and well, crouching down on the floor beside you as you squat at the doorway to your shared bedroom. There are glass shards scattered around you, and you’re holding a broom like a sword, looking ready to kill, but he only has eyes for you. 

“Hey”, he breathes. “Are you ok?”

It’s only then that you turn to face him. 

“There’s a cockroach in our bedroom”, you whisper, handing him a spray bottle of insecticide. “We need to hunt it down together”. 

He’s stunned for a beat before he throws his head back, howling in laughter.

“What?! This is a serious matter, Tetsuro. We need to HUNT. THAT. CREATURE. DOWN.”

He raises his hands in surrender, chuckling still. “Ok, ok. So what’s your game plan?”

You explain the mechanics of your scheme to hunt down the filthy beast, squinting balefully at the insect skittering in the corner of your room. He rolls up his sleeve and chucks his tie to the side. 

“Right”, he says, cracking his knuckles. “Let’s roll, m’lady.”

You glare at him again.

“Eh, that cockroach isn’t going to catch itself”, he tosses over his shoulder as he charges forward, armed to kill. You roll your eyes, but you follow him anyway, pumping your fist when he sprays the pest with a complete lack of mercy, cringing as you sweep its carcass up, padding off to dispose of it. 

He doesn’t join you in the kitchen, not even after you’ve spent at least ten minutes furiously scrubbing your hands, and when you turn back to find him, it’s your turn to find him crouched down in your bedroom, carefully picking broken pieces of glass from the floor. 

He greets you with an amused curl of his lips. “Did you seriously throw your favourite mug at the cockroach?” 

You scratch the back of your neck nervously, shooting him an embarrassed grin. “In my defense, that bugger literally came out of nowhere and nearly flew right into my face!”

He groans laughingly. “Should I rethink my veto to get a cat so it can hunt all the vermin down for you?” 

You’re so excited by the thought of getting to adopt a cat of your own that you almost trip in your haste to throw your arms around his neck, ignoring his protests that he’s literally carrying a plastic bag full of glass to pepper kisses to his face. 

“Let’s go down to the shelter this weekend!” You squeal, babbling about getting scratch pads and litter boxes and a kitty bed. 

The prospect of growing your little family from two to three makes warmth bloom in his chest - but the little shit that he is, he can’t help but derive a little humour from this situation. 

“On one condition though.”

“What?” you ask him warily. 

He smirks. 

“We name the cat Yaku. Tis only fair, since that asshole named his cat after me”. 

“Deal.” You stick your hand out, he shakes it. 

On Monday, Yaku facetimes Kuroo to yell at him for naming his smug ginger cat after him. Kuroo yells back at the short-tempered libero ‘pot - meet kettle, YOU named YOUR cat after me first!’ 

You just shake your head at him while cuddling your purring cat.

A/N: If you want to read the story about Yaku and his cat Kuroo, you can read it in my previous fic ‘Who dares to speak aloud these words (intended for the heart to speak’

[mouseinamushroomhouse]

Part 3: Yuri's Reign

Reference: by this point Ezar is nearly 40. Dorca's reign post-war lasted fifteen years, give or take. Piotr is 40. Yuri and Xav are in their late 50s (ish). Olivia and Dorca's younger children are all early thirties to mid-twenties.

Once the hubbub of the coronation dies down, Ezar takes a trip. He heads north to visit his kinsmen and his sister, and to clear his head. Anna, along with most of the huntsmen, don't really understand what the Imperium or Vorbarr Sultana are really like - it's so far outside their frame of reference. Ezar has also purposefully distanced himself from this heritage - Piotr is the only man from the south who remembers where Ezar started, as well as the only one who knows Ezar's patronymic.

Ezar and Anna go on a hunting trip together for several weeks and Ezar tries to explain the danger he's in, caught between Piotr and Yuri's politics. Anna isn't having a great time of it either, trying to dissuade the (very determined) head of the clan from marrying her. He replaced Ezar over a decade ago, after it became clear Ezar wasn't coming back. Anyway, they camp out on the ice sheets for a while and look at the stars, and Ezar tells Anna about spaceships and wormholes, and they toy with the idea of just … not returning, and staying out in the wild.

Eventually, they give up on that and return. Ezar invites Anna to visit the Vorkosigans, to get her away from the warlord for a while. She accepts and they travel south to Vorkosigan District. Piotr and Ezar get recalled to Vorarr Sultana by Yuri during this visit, and leave Anna with Olivia.

Olivia is able to explain to Anna exactly how tense the situation between Piotr and Yuri is, and how much danger Ezar is in trying to hold them together. Anna ends up refusing to return north, demanding to stay and watch her brother's back. Olivia gets Anna a position as her lady's maid at their Vorbarr Sultana house, so she can live in VS most of the year. Ezar is not thrilled, but neither of them advertise that they're related, and they hope that will be enough to keep her out of harm's way.

Piotr and Ezar were recalled to a trial of several Counts who were Yuri's political enemies. In the end, three are executed, and Piotr's party loses the majority in the government.

The government continues to take on a more authoritarian tone under Yuri, and the Ministry of Political Education is codified into law. Grishnov is a recommendation of Ezar's, a friend from the Cetagandan War. Ezar gets shifted somewhat out of power in the military by this, and most of his authority is now in the space & expeditionary divisions, but he's still held in high regard by the rank & file.

Piotr isn't happy about any of these developments. He's still coordinating galactic trade, and Olivia enjoys spending part of the year in VS with her sister and her philanthropy projects, but things are increasingly untenable. Somewhere in here, Olivia has her second son, Aral. While this goes on, Yuri and Grishnov begin establishing a plan to take over the lowlands of the Southern continent, the last region of Barrayar not sworn to the Imperium and the most culturally Cetagandan region of the planet. Somewhere in this section, Admiral Kanzian (originally from SC, now part of the military) establishes a spy ring in SC for Yuri. Piotr and Kanzian go back and forth on military strategy a lot, but Piotr eventually recuses himself on grounds of not trusting Yuri's intentions after the conquest. He warns Kanzian and Ezar that Yuri's former brutality in SC will reemerge, and that he's been consistently destroying checks & balances in the government for years.

Yuri uses the high spirits of a Winterfair celebration to announce first, new trade deals with some of the NC counts, placing further burdens on the continent's agriculture, and second, a policy of isolationism, banning trade through Komarr on account of their tariffs. To be fair, he isn't lying about the tariffs, but it does have the side effect of further alienating Piotr and cutting off Xav's access to manipulate Barrayaran politics through trade. Technically, Barrayarans can still travel off-planet, but it becomes much harder to do so without Imperial sponsorship.

Shortly after this, Olivia becomes pregnant again, and she and Piotr decide to leave VS. The succession is once again very unclear - Yuri refuses to name an heir or marry - and Sonia, Elyse, and Irina have no children. Piotr doesn't want his kids growing up with any Imperial expectations on them. So the Vorkosigans take off and Piotr now only comes to VS for important votes. Olivia names her third child Anna Helena Vorkosigan.

Two things happen before Piotr leaves. Thing 1: Elyse, Ezar's fiancee, offers Anna a job as her lady's maid so she can stay in VS. Ezar doesn't know how much Elyse knows, or if she's doing this at her brother's request, and he doesn't ask. Anna moves into the palace. Thing 2: Piotr goes to Ezar and accuses Yuri of Dorca's murder. Ezar tells him to leave and tells him never to repeat those suspicions.

But Ezar can't quite get it out of his head. So while the planning for SC conquest continues, Ezar hires a private investigator named Negri to look into Dorca's death. In pursuit of this, Negri spends some time disguised as an Imperial guard, some time living in the Vorbarra servants' quarters with Anna's help, and eventually works his way into Yuri's ImpSec on forged papers and works his way up the ranks. (This is over several years, Negri loves puzzles and gets somewhat hooked on the case). During this period, Negri uncovers an assassination plot against Yuri, and ends up Head of Domestic Affairs for his trouble. Cue fun angst of: hands between Yuri's hands, has been on Ezar's payroll for eight years and completely convinced by this point that Yuri killed his predecessor. Not to mention that Ezar has been out of the picture for some time, while Yuri is right there, directly commanding Negri's loyalty.

During this same period, Kanzian and Ezar have come up with a air-land-sea plan to take the SC. The plan involves Ezar being completely out of contact with the command for nearly a year, working his way from the far southern edge of the continent (coincidentally, very similar in climate to his homeland). Ezar protests this, wanting to be involved with command to prevent the conflict getting too bloody, and is argued down. Yuri essentially promises Ezar that if he succeeds, he'll be allowed to marry Elyse, and Yuri will name Ezar's children as his heirs, ending the succession crisis and, seemingly, removing Piotr's family from danger. Ezar accepts.

When the war starts, Negri has just joined ImpSec and doesn't have conclusive proof one way or another. Ezar leaves a sum of money for him, but leaves continuing the case up to Negri's discretion.

Kanzian leads a frontal assault through the captured northern mountains, and other Vor-led battalions move along the coasts (did I mention I can't write battles to save my life?), but Ezar's job is different. Work his way north, completely undercover, and take command of the former citadel of the 9th satrapy from within, while their military command is distracted by Kanzian.

Anyway, while he and his men are making their way across the southern ice sheets and ending up in short, vicious battles with local villages, Ezar ends up realizing that one of his men is, in fact, a woman in disguise and definitely isn't supposed to be there. Princess Irina Vorbarra decided to disguise herself as a man and join the expedition to win glory on the battlefield. Without much choice, Ezar agrees to keep her secret, since they can't break their cover to send a message north to extract her.

Irina and Ezar end up becoming friends over several months, due to Ezar's innate respect for competency. They end up in a bunch of shenanigans hiding Irina's identity, but also generally discuss the experience of being female on Barrayar and Irina's desire to train as a soldier. Ezar respects her, but doesn't have much faith in the Barrayaran ability to change, and makes that clear. They're both hot-headed idiots and end up in ridiculous arguments over this. They successfully take Lambda Kefa (city) and Irina defeats the governor in a duel. Then, against Ezar's wishes, she reveals her identity following the duel and the rest of their men celebrate her. By the time they rendezvous with Kanzian, Irina has popular support as the "Warrior Princess," and Ezar and Kanzian both realize how bad this will look to Yuri, already paranoid over his half-siblings' ambitions.

In the end, the remaining Vor of the SC are either executed or stripped of their titles, and Yuri throws a massive celebration for Barryaran unification. As part of this celebration, General Ezar is married to Princess Elyse. (Is Elyse thrilled about this? No. Is Elyse attracted to men? Also no. Elyse just knows how to play the game better than Irina and keeps her mouth shut).

This … is where the trouble starts. Ezar still doesn't use a patronymic. He still refuses a countship of any kind, prefering to make his way through the military without family connections. As a result, Elyse keeps the Vorbarra name when she marries, and Yuri allows her to give her children the name as well. Yuri plans to name Ezar's children his heirs, so this works out for him. Perhaps unsurprisingly, Ezar, riding a wave of popular support following the invasion, becomes commonly, though not legally, known as Ezar Vorbarra.

Yuri doesn't love that. He sends Elyse and Ezar off on a honeymoon tour (tailed by ImpSec, the increasingly shadowy and fanatic organization he's made it in Ezar & Piotr's absence), and deals with the problem of Irina's increasingly popular petition to train as a soldier by marrying her, against her will, into the Vorrutyer family. Irina essentially completely vanishes from public life, except for announcements from the family of the birth of her children, and there's an ongoing joke in the French District that the Warrior Princess has gone mad and is wandering the halls of Vorrutyer Castle, unfit to be seen. Fun times. I don't fully understand the Vorrutyer family tree so IDK which branch she married. Hopefully not the one her mother was from, but who knows with the Vorrutyers.

Ezar and Yuri fall out again over what happened to Irina. Elyse gives birth to a son, Serg, but Yuri still refuses to name an heir in retaliation. Piotr and Olivia, in VS for the birth, point out to Ezar & Elyse that Yuri is losing faith in Ezar, and sees his son as a political threat. Piotr recommends they get the child out of VS. Olivia pushes the last of her family's credit with Yuri and gets approval for Elyse and Serg to visit her parents on Beta. Elyse doesn't really believe Yuri would hurt her, but she is worried for her son, so she also petitions Yuri to be allowed to go off-world. Yuri agrees, and Elyse and Serg (with a Vorbarra Armsmen escort) go to stay with Xav. (Just to be clear, I understand the timing on this doesn't work, and most likely Serg was born after the massacre, but I simply don't care. This way is more fun.) While this is going on, Sonia also gives birth to a son, Padma Vorpatril.

Yuri, who's getting increasingly unstable, deploys ImpSec to spy on all of his relatives, and political rivals, cracking down on what can and can't be said within VS. Irina's husband, Richars Vorrutyer, is a Political Officer and starts reforming parts of Ezar's military conduct standards. More and more, Yuri is seeing plots and conspiracies to unseat him around every corner.

Ezar meets Negri at a bar by the docks, but when Negri tries to give a report, Ezar cuts him off and refuses to hear the results. He sends Negri back to ImpSec and tells him enough people have been dragged into his, Yuri's, and Piotr's private war. Ezar's motivation for this is roughly - there is no avenue he can take to challenge Yuri for the murder even if Yuri did commit it. Yuri is the ultimate authority. Either Ezar is willing to commit to a coup, or he isn't. He isn't. At least one of them might have a chance to get out of this with clean hands.

In the end, it doesn't matter. Some months before Yuri's birthday, he reassigns Piotr and Ezar. Ezar he sends with his space forces to run a series of routine wormhole checks for Komarran or Cetagandan activity. Piotr heads south to Lambda Kefa and acts as Yuri's interim governor. Richars goes with him as his Political Officer. Meanwhile, the High Vor converge on VS for the Emperor's birthday.

That night, Yuri hosts a dinner for his relatives. Several Vorrutyer cousins attend (from Joanna and Irina). Irina attends as Olivia's guest, as Olivia's husband isn't available to escort her. Olivia's children Fyodor (13), Aral (10), and Anna Helena (5) all attend. However, Irina & Richars' children are not invited, at Richars' request. Halfway through the meal, Yuri's death squad comes in and massacres nearly everyone at the table. The only survivors in the room are Aral Vorkosigan and Yuri Vorbarra. Olivia takes a disruptor bolt meant for her son, and Aral takes the chance to run out the servants' entrance. He makes it to the nursery, where the babies were sent during dinner, just ahead of the death squad, grabs his cousin Padma, and hides in the courtyard to watch as Yuri's squards deploy to look for him.

At the same moment Yuri's men enter the dining room, the Vorbarra Armsmen guarding Elyse turn on Xav and Serg. Elyse was meant to survive the massacre, but she attacks a guard aiming at Xav with her Vorfemme knife and is shot. Her death gave Xav time to react, kill the attackers, and grab Serg and his wife Helen. A second round of ImpSec men reach the house to check in just as Xav and Helen make it off planet in one of Xav's unregistered smuggling ships. In orbit, Helen agrees to return to Barrayar, accepting that it might be a death sentence. They burn an offering for Elyse and head for the wormhole, intent on getting answers.

Also simultaneously, several of Ezar's ships turn on him, attempting to purposely set off a chain of old Cetagandan space mines while his ship is in range. Ezar evades the attack and ends up in the middle of a brawl between ships loyal to Yuri and ships loyal to Ezar. Ezar wins. Unlike Xav, he knows exactly who to blame.

Aral makes it out of the palace in the back of a trader's groundcar and heads for the Vorkosigan town house, only to find it being searched by ImpSec. Aral spends the night in the Vorbarra Gardens trying to keep Padma quiet, and in the morning sneaks into the back of the grounds and saddles his pony. He joins a crowd of people migrating out of the city, having heard rumors that something terrible had happened the night before in the Palace. Aral makes it out of VS and rides for the Dendarii Mountains.

Before the morning comes, Richars Vorrutyer has posted an Imperial Degree in Lambda Kefa marking Xav Vorbarra, Serg Vorbarra, and Aral Vorkosigan as crown traitors.

Final death toll from Yuri's massacre: Princess-and-Countess Olivia Vorbarra Vorkosigan Lord Fyodor Xav Vorkosigan Lady Anna Helena Vorkosigan Princess Sonia Vorbarra Vorpatril Captain Ivan Vorpatril Princess Elyse Vorbarra Princess-and-Countess Irina Vorbarra Vorrutyer

End Part 3.

@starfishlikestoread's Ezar quote board has actually infected my brain, and it reminded me I have this whole backstory timeline thing for Ezar that fits approximately 15% of actual canon about him (which is embarrassing considering how little there actually is, you'd think I could get it right) but I shall now inflict it on all of you regardless.

Part 1: First Cetagandan War Basically we pick up roughly a year into the war the Cetagandans. (Inaccuracy 1: in my brain the ninth satrapy's base of power was mostly in the southern continent (SC), and Dorca lived through/during the Cetagandan War. He also isn't fully emperor yet - he's building a powerbase and Yuri and Xav (and therefore the Betans) see him as the planet's independent leader, but the actual remaining Vor families of the Northern continent (NC) are … split, to say the least. He's got maybe 70% support among the Vor, and plenty of that is purely opportunist. Major holdouts include Fyodor Vorkosigan and most of the northern huntsmen, a rabble of anti-monarchist types led by eighteen year old Ezar [unknown].)

So a year into the war, most of the fighting is focused on the southern part of NC, with Xav off on Beta running weapons and Yuri leading guerilla attacks in SC. Shortly before Yuri left for SC, he formed a temporary alliance with Piotr Vorkosigan without Dorca or Fyodor's knowledge. Piotr is leading a warband of Dendarii hillmen and his thought process is basically 'well, I don't want this Vorbarra upstart's family pretending they control me, but this is the best chance we've had to throw off the Cetagandans in my lifetime, so fuck it.' Fyodor has thus far refused to commit any support to Dorca and most of the Vorkosigan loyalists have retreated into the mountain caves. Piotr splits his warband, sending half of them with Yuri to the satrapy and the others with one of Yuri's riders to rendezvous with Dorca, who is in hiding with his command squad and his younger children. (Xav and Yuri are essentially the weird older stepbrothers of other women, and no one's 100% sure whether Yuri or Dorca's new legitimate son will inherit, but that's not important right now ;). Dorca's family tree in my mind is a whole other can of worms.)

Piotr meanwhile takes a small group of hillmen and heads north to attempt to convince the huntsmen to join them in fighting the Cetagandans (very Nakia going to M'Baku for help, in my mind). He assumes he's going to negotiate with an old warlord, very like his own father, but instead finds Ezar the weird forest child.

Ezar things: he's not the blood son of the former leader. No one is in fact sure where he's from. The former chief, Xandor Borisovich, brought him back from a solo hunting trip on the ice sheets and no one was brave enough to ask. The huntsmen aren't big on social classes or standards, and Vor/prole social dynamics don't really apply. Ezar ended up as their unofficial leader after he hunted and killed the mountain lion(esque thing, ik it's an alien planet) that killed his foster father. Ezar uses Borisovich when he feels like it, but largely doesn't use a patronymic at all.

Ezar is a year younger than Piotr and has no interest in supporting Dorca or any sort of leader who outranks him. They go back and forth on this for a while, and Piotr probably ends up dueling Ezar's champion to prove himself. Eventually, Piotr convinces Ezar to join him, with the understanding that Yuri won't hold either of them to a true oath after the Cetagandans are thrown out. Also he promises Ezar a bunch of land that he definitely doesn't actually own, because like grandson, like grandfather.

The reason Yuri even wanted an alliance with Ezar is that Ezar's people had a better understanding of ships (the sailing kind) than anyone else on their continent. The Cetagandans have most of their power concentrated on SC, but they also hold most of the coasts of NC - the resistance is almost all inland. So Piotr and Ezar spend most of the next year working their way down the coast, liberating coastal cities - Ezar with his fleet, Piotr with his ever-growing calvary troop as farmers and merchants in the cities behind them join him. Piotr and his lieutenants train them to function as an actual calvary troop, and trains Ezar as his military apprentice, etc, and by the time they rendezvous with Yuri, they have nearly three times his numbers.

Yuri has been generally wreaking havoc in Cetagandan territory, and also has been stealing lightflyers, guns, and other technology he can get his hands on. Dorca is back in Vorbarr Sultana acting as supreme commander, and Xav sent a group of mercanaries to rendezvous with them and train Yuri's men how to operate spaceships.

Anyway, then some battle stuff happens, IDK that part because battle logistics are so not my strong suit.

Point being, when the dust settles, the Cetagandans have bombed Vorkosigan Vashnoi halfway to hell in retaliation for Piotr assassinating some higher-ups in their command and getting captured. This pisses Fyodor off so much he joins Dorca and swears loyalty to Dorca's 'empire.' Fyodor dies defending Dorca's family in battle, leaving Piotr the last man with the Vorkosigan name.

While this is going on, Ezar does something devilishly clever to get Piotr free and Yuri lets loose Betan bombs on SC in revenge for Vorkosigan Vashnoi, wiping out tens of thousands of native Barrayarans.

At some point after that (seriously I have no idea how battles or timelines work) Dorca, Yuri and Piotr bring the Cetagandans to a standstill, and Ezar uses Yuri's stolen Cetagandan ship and flies for the wormhole, threatening to the Cetagandans that he'll blow himself up and collapse it, cutting off any Ceta reinforcements. To be clear, Ezar has no idea this will work - he barely knows how to control a spaceship at this point. But the Cetagandans fall for his bluff, and accept Dorca's terms in return, leaving the planet altogether.

In the aftermath of all of that, Dorca rides a wave of support to become emperor in truth, although admittedly only of the NC. Piotr agrees to abide by his father's oath, and becomes Dorca's first official Count. Ezar, in the process of threatening to kill himself for Dorca's cause, finds to his own surprise that the idea of a unified Barrayar is actually something he believes in, and also swears loyalty to Dorca. Refuses any countship, but agrees to stay with Piotr and help define what kind of government the Imperium is going to be.

End Part 1.

[necros-writing-stuff]

Seeking Shelter

Werewolf!M!Eden/AFAB!Reader

Summary

You've never regretted ditching your friends so much. Now you're drenched, freezing, and feeling watched as you sprint into a log cabin for shelter.

(Happy early Halloween, everyone!)

Warnings

Non-con to dub-con; Cunnilingus; Knotting; Creampie; Gender Neutral pronouns for reader; Eden is Eden

A03

HERE

Word Count

4202

The rain pounds so hard that not even the thick foliage of the tree stops the downpour from drenching your clothes. Every strand of hair sticks to your face, needing to be swept back so that you could see where you were putting your feet. It had been three hours since you had gotten separated from your friends. One had heard rumours about an abandoned house in the forest, so you had made the journey out there with them to investigate. It was Halloween, after all. Someone had even brought a Ouija board, so you had tried it out, one or two of the people there trying to scare the more timid. You had only rolled your eyes, tired of the antics and wanting to go home. The abandoned place was boring you to tears, and you'd rather spend your night doing something fun.

Before the sun could set, you had begun the treck back home. There was time to put your costume on and make it to that party a couple streets away from your place. At least, that was the plan. It's been three hours now, the sun having set and the cold of the night seeping into your bones. Of course it had to begin raining, too. Your luck just couldn't get any worse. Except it could! Because now you're lost. Cold, wet and lost. In a forest where wolves and bears are known to roam. You shiver with each step, your jacket no longer providing any warmth since the water had drenched the material. Hell, none of your clothes offered any protection anymore, only your shoes doing their job. 

Every sound makes you jump, even your own feet snapping twigs seeming louder than it should be. Keeping your breath even gets difficult, the adrenaline from the fear mixed with the shivering not doing you any favours. You should have stayed with your friends. Should have gone home together, because now you're risking hypothermia and getting mauled. All because your were fucking bored. Nearly falling over a log, you have to squint to see properly in the dark. Hopefully nothing out there heard you yelp when you caught yourself - the thought alone makes you feel watched. 

A loud crack from behind you is enough to spook, all of your muscles freezing as your head whips around to find the source. Nothing is what you see, but you're not taking the chance. Even half blind, you take off in a sprint; wherever you end up can't be worse than with whatever you swore you had felt hunting you back there. Branches whip into your face as you charge forwards, having to hold your arms in front to stop yourself losing an eye to the foliage. Horror movie clichés didn't feel like making you one of their victims, as nothing tripped you up, the only thing impeding your ability to run being the exhaustion that starts settling in the longer you run. Your lungs burn, your muscles ache - even your mouth feels dry from how hard you pant.

Luck seems to be on your side in this moment, as just as you're ready to give up, you burst through the trees into a clearing. The moon, full and bright, shines down and highlights the cabin across from where you emerged. It's dark inside, but you run up to it and knock anyways.

"Hello? Is anyone there? Something's chasing me, please open up!" the shrillness of your voice as you beg annoys you, so you can't imagine how the ones inside feel (if anyone is in, that is). A growl from the treeline makes your heart jump to your throat, all caution thrown to the wind as you jiggle the doorknob. Thankfully, it opens, and you rush in and close it before leaning against the wood. Almost coughing up a lung as you regain your breath, you can barely make out a fireplace not too far from you. There's a bed you can see, along with a table and chairs. A door that leads somewhere you don't know. The colours are impossible to make out in the dark, everything different shades of black and grey. 

It's hard to say how long you sit there, but nothing else can be heard from outside. Braving it, you crawl to the fireplace, cringing every time you hear the floorboards creak. Fumbling around, you nearly laugh from joy when you find a lighter. It works like a charm, easily setting the logs in the hearth aflame after you're able to use it properly; your fingers are numb from cold. The heat is a welcome treat, and so is the light, fear reducing now that your range of senses is back. Being able to see confirms that you're alone in the room of the cabin, and a little push of the other door reveals nothing but a bathroom. Still, it would be rude to get too comfortable. What if the owner came back and got mad that you're here? 

Even as your manners bounce around your head, you're aware of all of those stories of people dying because they're in wet clothes. Reluctantly, you search for something to change into while they dry. You don't want to be one of those people, and you'd rather be yelled at for wearing someone's clothes than die. On the back of the bathroom door there's an old robe. It smells nice as you put it on, a masculine scent that calms you even if you don't know the source. That, and the size of the robe, clue you in to this cabin being a man's. Sure enough, other clothes in a drawer are made for a rather large man. Or a very tall woman, but the boxers mean it's more likely to be a dude. Hopefully he's friendly. A clean towel helps you to dry off your hair, but it's still damp when you're done patting at it.

Your bare feet pad back over to the fire, dragging one of those chairs over so you can curl up in it and preserve as much heat as possible. Fire poker in hand, you prod the logs as your eyes begin to get heavy. You can't fall asleep, not now. But the old clock hung up on the wall says it is midnight now. Your friends would be home right now. Has anyone noticed that you're missing yet? Are they looking for you? So many people go missing in this town, it's scary. You never thought that you'd be one of them. Despite your best efforts, you fall asleep curled up in that chair, the poker falling to the floor as you sag against the backrest. Left vulnerable and open to anything that could walk through that door. 

-

Eden huffs as he runs between the trees, four-furred legs easily traversing the cluttered floor of the forest. It's much easier than when he is in his human form, all of his senses and physical abilities sharpened and honed so that he can hunt big game with the same success rate as a full wolf pack. He didn't even need his gun like this. The hunter had already found his catch for the night, having fed till he was full, and was now making his way home to sleep off the rest of the night. His transformation was uncontrollable on full moons, but he could keep himself in check while in his hairy form. It was difficult in his youth, but many years of isolated practice had given him the mental fortitude he needs. 

Disturbingly, the smell of wolf (regular, not him) gets stronger as he comes up to his clearing, no animals there, but the evidence shows that they were there not too long ago. And there's something else he can pick up, too - something human. Something extremely enticing. And that did seem to get stronger as he made his way to his door. Light spills from the windows. He hadn't left the fire burning. Someone's in his home. Even if they smell nice, the intrusion still bothers him. As quietly as he can, Eden pushes into the spartan room. Having lived there for years upon years, he knows where to step to avoid the loud floorboards. There, curled up in front of the fire, is the little interloper. And to make the invasion worse? They're in his robe! Their clothes are wet, on the floor in front of the fire (even their underwear, he notes). But they do look so small in his robe. Cute, even.

As silently as he can, Eden gets close. With a long, clawed finger he tilts their chin so he can get a proper look. Such a pretty face! Such a lovely looking little human. Good looks combined with a nice scent is almost enough to get him to forgive you. Almost. Gently, he lets your head loll back into its resting spot. Instead, he grasps your legs and spreads them apart, nuzzling the fabric of the robe out of the way until he can see what lies at your core. Delight fills him, stomach feeling light from giddiness. A perfect little pussy, just beckoning for his tongue inside of it. One that smells so delicious his maw fills with saliva, desperate for a taste. With his long, long tongue he licks his lips before leaning in.

Your taste is divine, the soft lips parting for his lapping, wet muscle and allowing him access to your gummy insides. His wet nose is pressed right up to your clit, gently rubbing the little button as you get wetter and wetter from his enthusiastic attention. Adorable high pitched moans come from your mouth, completely relaxed and at his mercy in your sleep. You'll wake up eventually, he knows, but for now Eden can enjoy how accepting your body is. Can shove his tongue as far inside of you as he can and savour the luscious taste of your juices. He can't get enough, can't stop himself even as you start shuffling and waking up.

When you wake up, you for a second think you're dreaming. You feel warm all over - especially between your legs. Something wet and long is teasing you, making you feel oh so good. Getting lost in the woods wasn't real  was it? No, it was a nightmare you had, it must have been. But as your eyes flutter open, you realise it wasn't. You take in the wooden walls of the cabin. The burning fire in the hearth. And the large, furred creature licking at your cunt. 

Screaming, you try to push it away - only to find that it has your thighs harshly gripped in it's elongated fingers. Oh god, what the fuck is it? What is it going to do with you? It's teeth are so sharp! What if it's going to eat you? Evidently, it doesn't appreciate your panicking, as it wraps an arm around your waist and hoists you up. Within half a second you're tossed onto the mattress in the corner of the cabin, the robe torn from your naked body, and once again stuck underneath the beast as it tries to regain access to your pussy. Whenever you kick and push it growls, before finally clamping it's jaws down on your forearm. It's not enough to draw blood, but you freeze, fearing that moving will tear your skin. Those large, yellow eyes peer into yours, and it huffs. Slowly, it let's you go. But you get the message. Behave, or it will hurt you for real. 

Terrified, you let the beast take your trembling thighs in its hands and spread them open again. It's straight back to teasing your cunt, this time focusing more on your clit than your insides. Hands against your chest, clenched into tight fists, you have to focus on your breathing so you don't begin to hyperventilate. It's already hard to see, eyes semi-blinded with fearful tears even as the muscles in your thighs and abdominals tighten every time your poor clit is stimulated. From behind the beast, you can see something moving frantically. Blinking the tears away, you almost laugh out when you realise it's a tail. Almost like this thing is a giant dog. Or wolf. 

Gulping, you let your head flop back down into the mattress. This isn't real. It's a fever dream. Werewolves are not real. You just fell asleep in front of that fire, and now you're having this nightmare because you feel so scared and vulnerable. Yeah, that's it. At least this seems to be a lucid dream - arms moving at your command, legs adjusting when they start cramping from being held for so long. You can't will the werewolf away, though. Can't stop it from drawing your orgasm closer and closer before you're keening out and gripping onto the fur of its head as your body convulses against that long muscle that continues to prod even after you come down. You're too sensitive now, but it won't stop - won't let you squirm away, nipping at your thigh before going back to harvesting all of your sweet nectar. 

Eden is sure that he'd be purring if he could. It had been so long since he had had someone beneath him - and he'd never gone down on anyone before. Then again, no one had ever smelled as tantalising as you do. His little human knows their place, too, obeying his warnings and taking everything he has to give. The hunter is far from done, too. He's extremely pent up after so long alone, and you'll thank him for being so thorough with the foreplay when his cock is finally inside of you. Oh, that's right! You haven't even seen it yet. You're not aware of how scared you should be. No, you're just gasping and writhing in his grasp, unable to cope with how it feels to have his tongue once again stroking your insides. One more, just one more orgasm for you, then he'll stop indulging himself. It'll help you, too, get you nice and ready to take his knot. 

Being inside of you this time when you reach your peak only teases the hunter, able to feel how your slick walls fluctuate around him. It's so tight and warm, so promising. Boneless and panting, you lay still when he pulls away, an obscene trail of saliva connecting from his lips to your drooling cunt that is broken when he licks his lips. Poor thing, you must think he's finished, rolling onto your side and letting your eyelids fall. Clambering onto the bed next to your relaxed form, Eden once again uses his strength to pull you to where he wants you, lying on your tummy with your head on his pillows. Being like that has you Sighing contentedly, raising a leg and snuggling in. He's tongue-fucked the fear out of you, it seems. You're too tired to be afraid of him right now. The image of you getting comfy is one he rather likes, a pretty thing falling asleep in his bed after he's used them how he pleases. Not enough, though. Far from enough. 

Your hips in his hand, he pulls them up and has you face down, ass up. Whining in protest, you turn to grumble at the beast, only to feel your entire body freeze at the large, leaking red cock that it holds in one of those clawed hands. One that it - no, he - rubs up and down your wet folds and, with a quick snap of it's hips, buries in as far as it will go even as you yelp in surprise. You can barely breathe, winded from the force, pussy stinging from the sheer stretch. There is no adjustment period, no time to get used to feeling something so big inside of you that you swear it makes your tummy bulge. And that isn't even the full length, a few inches remain outside of your body despite the beast's best efforts to hump it all in. He leans over you, muzzle resting on your shoulder so you feel every breath fan across your cheek, the werewolf giving it a little lick before beginning a frantic pace that has you screaming. For a dream, this feels very, very real. It is a dream, right? It better be, because if it isn't you're sure the people in town would be able to hear you from how loud you are right now. 

Every single pounding you take is as intense as the last, the slick, strange cock hitting all of the right spots (not that it could miss any) every time it enters, and brushing against them again when it pulls out. You were boneless before - now you're just putty. Completely immobile as you're used by this wolfman, only able to babble out incoherent pleads. What are you even pleading for? For him to stop? You don't think you are, not anymore. That fear that had originally made your heart pound replaced by a need to get off despite already having cum twice. To just let the werewolf take care of you like he is.

As if reading your mind, he once again licks your cheek before shuffling around and changing the angle that his hips are thrusting into you. Oh fuck, it's so good. How could it have gotten even better than before? Your brain seems to give up on anything that isn't how your poor little hole feels getting rammed into over and over again, eyes un-focusing on the cabin around you and illegible sentences devolving into mere noises as you drool all over the pillow your head rests on. You can't seem to concentrate, not even when something starts stinging down below again.

Getting his knot in will be difficult. You're so small and tight, not at all built to take him like this, but Eden couldn't give a fuck. He'll get it in, one way or another. The hunter has to admit how cute you are, all cum-brained and desperate pressed beneath his form. Making such sweet noises, all for him. With each passing second, he realises how much he doesn't want to let you go when he finishes using you tonight. It's so lonely out here, and you seem like a perfect mate - sexually, that is. But he could always train you outside of the bedroom. Always put one of those collars he has around your neck and force you to behave. 

Growling out at the thought, Eden grinds his knot against your cunt. You can't go anywhere, can't try to squirm away again when he growls lowly and starts pushing it inside, past that tight ring of muscles at the entrance of your hole until it finally goes inside with a lewd popping noise. No more jack-hammering into you anymore, the hunter can only gyrate and take pleasure in how he  can feel your gummy walls throbbing around his dick. You're getting close, you must be, judging by how you're trying to angle your hips so that his grinding prick presses down on a sensitive bundle of nerves. 

He's right, not that you know what the beast is thinking, but you're so, so close. It didn't hurt that badly when he forced his knot inside of you. It had burned, yes, but once the full length was stuck in your cunt it just felt so good. So filling and warm. As the wolfman circles his hips, you push back with your own; a synchronised rhythm forming that has a knot of your own forming in your stomach. That tingling feeling spreads through your limbs again, body going taught as it prepares to release. Just a little more, just a few more brushes against your g-spot, and you're once again coming undone at the hands of the furry monster that crushes you into the bed. Every muscle shakes, every nerve on fire and your throat hoarse from your screaming. He keens above you, moving faster and kicking your orgasm up a notch, especially when you feel something even warmer than his prick flooding your insides. He came inside of you, so much that your stomach feels bloated and some of the seed manages to dribble out of your pussy despite the knot plugging you up.  

Satisfied, the beast collapses next to you, pulling your lower body with him as he shuffles around. You gasp at the pain of being pulled, but quickly settle back down when those strong, furred arms tuck you in close, right under the wolfman's chin with the soft fur of his chest against your back. Gradually, as the hormones rushing through your veins return to normal, your brain begins to think straight again. The fear doesn't return, not as the gears turn and an escape plan begins to form. Wait for it to fall asleep, and the knot to reduce, then you can quietly grab your shoes, pants and jacket before leaving. The rest of your clothes aren't necessary, you can replace them when you get home. Because you're fully aware now that this isn't a dream. A nightmare, a pleasurable one, but reality all the same. It'll be hard, your body aches from how hard you were fucked - hip joints in particular groaning in protest from how long they were stuck in the same position while taking a beating. 

It's a waiting game. Listening once again to that old clock on the wall, the repetitive tick-tocks threatening to send you to sleep - but this time you fight the siren song of Hypnos, digging your nails into your palm even as you feign slumber. Breath steady, eyes closed, you're a hundred percent sure that the werewolf had fallen asleep, too, the knot having shrunken enough that that huge length slides out when you angle your hips forwards enough. Feeling confident, you open your eyes - to find that the arms around your waist have changed, too. Much less furry. They look like a man's arms, rather than a beast's, and the man they belong to groans as he sits up. So much for escaping. Shutting your eyes, once more, you feel the bed move as he gets up, listen to the padding of his feet as he crosses the room. Maybe the man just needs to pee? That's good, he'll probably sleep again when he comes back. There's still hope.

That hope is dashed away a little when those footsteps return instead of going into the bathroom, but you dare not open your eyes. Not until something cold and metallic is placed around your neck, sealing with a click. That's when you give up the act, meeting your apparent captor in the eye for the first time since he had returned to his human form. If you weren't so terrified, you'd note that the long-haired woodsman is quite handsome. But as it is, you're far too upset that a leash is being tied to your collar with a complicated knot you can't identify. One you'd probably need a knife to undo. 

As he loops the long leather around the headboard, he speaks for the first time. "My name's Eden. I'm self-sufficient out here, but it can get quite lonely. You'll be useful for keeping me company." 

His voice is gruff and low. Authoritative. His bare body is covered in toned muscles and scars of varying severity. Hair trails down his chest to his - nope. Not looking there. But you don't want to look him in the eyes, either, so zoning out while staring at his tanned shoulder will do. It takes one of his still large hands grasping your jaw to get your attention again. 

"I asked your name," the hunter repeats, looking down at your vulnerable form in his bed. The skin of your cheeks feels so soft against his fingers, the muscles of your jaw interesting to feel move as you stutter out your name. It's a nice one, he rather likes it. Rather likes you, now that his vision has returned to normal, with his human range of colours back. Canines don't see in black and white, but don't see in the range people do. He couldn't see you in your full glory before. He can now. Even as tears once again gather in your eyes and you begin pleading to be let go, you look beautiful. "I can't let you go, pup. I need you to keep me company out here. You'll be a wonderful companion, you just need to adjust - you'll see," he'll make you see. No matter how much disciplining it takes.

Breaking down into harsh sobs, you curl up as Eden finally let's go of your face. And want to laugh in bitterness, because now he actually does go pee before returning to the fur-laden bed. He doesn't even bother with you as he lays down, soon snoring even as you continue to cry. You're scared again. So, so scared. You'll never be able to go home, will you? The rest of the night fades away, your eyes continuously flooding as you longingly stare at your drying clothes next to the hearth wondering if he'll burn them when he wakes up.