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sluttysnowangel666 · 5 months ago

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The Wolf & The Wildling

Part 2 to The Woman Beyond the Wall, last part.

masterlist

Summary: One year after Cregan’s near death experience with the wildling woman he met, he returns beyond the wall to find and recruit her in hopes of fighting alongside him for Rhaenyra Targaryen at the start of the Dance of Dragons.

cw; smut af come on you know me, really rough cregan, overstimulation, bit of angst but a happy ending :3, talks of SA, childbirth, no use of Y/N but an x reader,

stop not me getting emotional at my own story bc i imagined the end of scott street by PB playing at the ending😭am i a cornball?? anyways, thank you to the anons in my asks for the inspo, i wasn’t even really sure how to continue this story, although i knew i wanted more for cregan and his wildling, you guys gave me the inspiration i needed to give them their ending! tag list: @rebeccawinters

Every day Cregan hadn’t gone back out there felt like another day wasted.

He struggled to do his duties, struggled to sleep, fight, listen, do anything that required attention from him.

And yet despite their rather harsh separation, Cregan still thought of her with every free moment he had. It didn’t help many lords were also insisting the Warden of the North marry a noble daughter. He knew he had to do his duty, but couldn’t find the strength to do it.

It had been so long since he’d seen her that he’d begun to forget his favorite parts about her. It felt as if her strange laugh no longer echoed in his mind, as if he could no longer envision her scarred yet still smoothed skin.

He had the dagger with him always. It was like keeping a piece of her with him. He remembered the pain so vividly, could still feel the throb in his shoulder if he thought about it too hard.

Yet, the ache was nothing compared to the painful thought that always seemed to stay in his mind.

Would he ever see her again?

He couldn’t help but wonder if the Gods had greater plans for them. He prayed that they did.

“My Lord.” A voice interrupted Cregan from his thoughts. He stood, turning to face the person. “A raven has arrived from Dragonstone.”

Cregan took the scroll from the maester, quickly opening it to reveal its contents. It was a letter from Rhaenyra Targaryen. She was sending her son in hopes of gaining the support of the North, and requested Cregan have an audience with her heir, Jacaerys.

He would have to return to the Wall.

He hadn’t returned, much to the dismay of the Nights Watch, since he had nearly died from his wildling’s arrows. Even the thought of going near the Wall made his heart skip a beat. She would be so close, yet so far. He knew he could no longer avoid the wall. His duty to the men there was dire, and he had let his own fears get in the way of that.

As for his lover, he wasn’t even sure she still wanted him. As far as he knew, she hated him; she wanted to put an arrow through his eye, his dagger through his chest. But that didn’t stop him from wanting to see her again. No lady had ever compared to her. He had found his other half, and now felt empty without her.

If he did find her, what would he even do? They were bonded by love, yet separated by more than a Wall.

The separation would soon not matter anymore.

Winter is coming.

———

A fortnight later

Castle Black

Cregan had welcomed the prince to Winterfell, then accompanied him to the Wall.

The young men walked, discussing terms of Cregan’s service.

“In winter, my duty to the Wall is even more dire than the one I owe to King’s Landing. I need my men here.” Cregan says to his prince.

“Whilst your men guard against wildlings and weather,” Cregan twitched at the word wildling. “the Hightowers plan to usurp the throne. If my mother is to defend her claim to hold the realm united, she needs an army. War is coming, to the whole of the realm my lord. We cannot wage it without the support of the North.”

Jacaerys trails off, standing against the guard that overlooked the entire outside of the Wall.

“My father brought King Jahaerys and Queen Alyssane to see the wall. His Grace stood at this very outlook and watched as their dragons, the greatest power in the world, refused to cross… Do you think my ancestors built a 700 foot wall of ice to keep out snow and savages?”

“What does it keep out?” Jacaerys asks.

Cregan finally looks beyond the Wall for the first time in a year, his mind thinking of her for a brief moment, and then the darkness that lies beyond it. “Death.”

“I have thousands of graybeards who have already seen too many winters. They are… wellhoned. I can ready them to march at once.”

“If your graybeards can fight, the queen will have them.”

“They’ll fight hard.” Cregan says, his mind once again thinking of his love as he says his next words. “Like Northerners.”

Jacaerys senses something; more words that the Warden of the North wished to speak.

“Is there something else you can offer us, My Lord?” Jacaerys asks.

Cregan hesitates. “There is a woman…” He looks. beyond the wall again. “She is fierce, deadly with a bow. If I can find her… I can ask her to lead the graybeards into war.”

“Should she accept, my mother will be more than pleased to have her.” Jacaerys asks.

“My Lord!” Cregan turns, “A raven has arrived… Urgent news from Dragstone.”

Cregan looks at the man holding the scroll, who holds a sight of worry on his face. Cregan quickly opens the scroll, reading its contents.

Cregan looks at the prince, and Jacaerys tries reading the man’s stoic features.

All Cregan can do is hand Jacaerys the scroll, and let him read for himself.

———

Another fortnight passed following the news of the death of Prince Lucerys Velaryon. Jacaerys had left the Wall at once to return to Dragonstone, whilst Cregan began to prepare his graybeards to march.

“My Lord, why must you go back beyond the Wall? The graybeards do not need a leader. I do not think it wise to let them be lead by a woman beyond the Wall, let alone the one who killed the Lord Commander of the Nights Watch.” His maester tells him, worried of how the people of Winterfell and the men on the Wall will react.

“They will not know she’s a wildling. Tis’ not important information. All they need to know is she will lead them well into battle. I trust you’ll keep this information I’ve shared with you private, Maester Windell.”

“Of course, My Lord. You can count on my discretion, always, but I fear wonder if this journey is for more than a leader.”

Cregan stops his packing, not wanting to share more information than he already has with his maester. “No, maester. I only am going to help the Queen. I will be back shortly, with or without the wildling. Winter is coming, and I will not get lost beyond the Wall.”

The maester didn’t argue, so Cregan made his fortnight journey back to the Wall, and then beyond it.

He felt fear when his horse took its first steps onto the icy tundra outside the Wall’s gate. He feared he would not find her, feared she may have died, feared she would kill him before he got to kiss her one last time.

The late summer snow was not too harsh yet, but Cregan knew he did not have long to find her before Winter came.

He searched for days for her.

He returned to the spot where he first set up camp, finding the bark where he had carved a dire wolf had been completely torn and shredded by a knife.

When he returned to the cave it was dark, and no trace of her had been left behind. It made it feel like the moments they shared in there never happened.

He felt lost. He set up his camp in the cave, but she had not snuck to it during the night like last time. If she had, she truly left no trace. But, he knew he hadn’t felt her yet. She wasn’t there.

2 weeks into the journey, he had dreamt of her.

He dreamt he was a wolf, hunting, when he finally saw her.

She was sleeping, ever so soundly, beneath a bright red weirwood. He growled at her, and she awoke quickly, immediately grabbing and aiming her bow at him.

She gasped quickly, catching her breath as adrenaline coursed through her veins.

She released the arrow into his eye, and he awoke.

He was sweating despite the cold, and the burning feeling in his eye was lingering.

He rubbed it softly, but then directed his attention back to her in the dream. It was really her. She looked different. She looked stronger somehow, and her hair had grown greatly. She had it in a long, thick braid. There were bags under her eyes, like she had been exhausted from something.

He stood and exited the cave. The sun was slowly rising, but there was a blue hue that made the snow on the ground glisten. He closed his eyes, stretched, and yawned when he heard a sound.

It was a familiar sound… the sound of a bow string being pulled tightly.

He lowered his arms from his stretch, and opened his eyes.

There she was.

She knelt on one knee, aiming her arrow at his eye. Her eyes burnt with a fire that he’d never seen, her breathing was quick and angry, her lips turned in a sad scowl, she was fueled with adrenaline.

He smiled, laughing softly. He couldn’t believe she was here. She pulled the string tighter at his sweet smile, her heart breaking at seeing him truly here.

He took a hesitant step towards her, but stopped.

A soft whining sound came from her back.

His smile faded.

She lowered her bow slowly, eventually dropping it completely. She had a fabric diagonal across her body. She moved it underneath her arm, and then twisted it around her body.

Her hands gently found and cradled the babe.

Cregan gasped. He couldn’t believe it.

She softly hushed the babe, tracing her fingers over its face. She whispered soft, comforting words to it. The babe made gentle little noises.

“Is that…” His voice was barely above a whisper. She looked at him solemnly. His hand covered his mouth.

“This is your son, Cregan.” She finally spoke. Her voice was smooth and melodic, different from how he heard her last time. He stepped towards her, falling to his knees. His whole body was shaking, and not from the cold.

“Does he have a name?” He asks, holding his arms out, hoping she’d trust him enough to hold his son.

She nervously hands him his child, fearful he might take her little babe, her only piece of Cregan, and never return again.

“No.” She says. “I only birthed him a moon ago.”

Cregan can’t hold it in anymore, and begins sobbing. All of his emotions pent up from the last year pour out. He holds the babe close to his chest, sobbing relentlessly.

He’d missed her so greatly this past year and now seeing her here, alone with this little babe, he’d realized how badly he erred. He wasn’t there to comfort her, hold her, help her. She had suffered it all alone.

“I’m so sorry.” He sobs.

She stares at him, her face unwavering. She was so angry. She wanted to kill him so bad, to take back her babe and cut his throat.

But, she couldn’t.

He’d broken her heart in such an unimaginable way. She’d cried over him for weeks, and when her blood hadn’t came she knew the worst had happened. But now he was here, holding their babe and sobbing like a child. She didn’t even know Cregan was capable of such emotions. She didn’t truly know him, and he didn’t truly know her.

Her hand found its way to his broad shoulder to try to comfort him. Her other hand moved to cradle his cheek. He rested his face into her hand, spilling wet tears on her.

“Oh, Cregan.” She whispered, wiping the never ending tears from his cheek. She leaned forward and pressed her forehead to his, hushing him like she did their babe. She wrapped her other arm around him, bringing her warm body against his while still being careful of their infant.

“I’m so sorry.” He repeats. “I should not have left you. I should have killed those men and brought you home-“

“Sh, sh, Cregan.” She whispers again. “I’m yours, as you are mine.”

Her words send him back into tears. She presses soft kisses to the tears on his cheek, weaving her fingers in his curls that she desperately missed.

“Where have you been?” He asks, minutes after calming down. “I’ve searched these whole damn woods for you.”

She smiles softly, “You think I don’t know that?” He smiles. “Why did you come back here, Cregan?”

He looks down at their sleeping babe, then back at her. “I’ve wanted to come back every day since I have been apart from you… But, I couldn’t find the strength. I regret it more than anything. I regret leaving you, I regret not coming sooner, I-“

She cuts him off, placing her warm lips onto his. Not breaking the kiss, her hands take the babe from him, setting him aside next to them.

“What are you-“

She slaps him across the face, with such a strong hand that he can’t help but stop and look back at her in total shock. She pulls his lips back into her, confusing him with her back and forth attitude. “If you ever leave me again, I really will put an arrow through your eye.”

He smirks, pulling her back into him with his strength. “Now we’re even.” She whispers.

“We were even when you nearly killed me last year.” He says, she growls at him, but they continue kissing. “I wear these scars with honor.”

She tears into his soft clothes, “Take him inside, and then come back out here and make me yours again.”

He pulls away with haste, grabbing his babe gently and walking back into the cave. She follows, right on his heels. He finds a safe spot for their babe, setting the sleeping child down.

He turns, grabbing her by the neck and kissing her, pushing her backwards out to the cold.

“Be gentle with me.” She whispers into his lips.

“No.” Cregan says, ripping off her furs and throwing them on the ground. She smirks, not wanting him to anyway.

He grabs her by her hair and she shrieks. He pushes her down to her knees, and she sits in the cold snow once again. He unlaces his breeches, and she quickly tugs them down with his soft clothes.

She presses her cold fingers onto his pelvis, and she places gentle kisses along his length. She looks up at him with her big, doe eyes. He pulls her head back by her hair again and she gasps. He pushes himself into her mouth, immediately groaning at her warm tongue. She moans around him, placing her hand at what she can’t fit in her mouth. He grabs both sides of her face, thrusting his hips into her mouth, not realizing his roughness. He had missed her so much, and he was so lost in the pleasure of her mouth.

She gagged repeatedly, her eyes flowing with tears. Her free hand rested on his toned stomach for balance, and she scratched her nails into him from time to time.

He pulled her head back with a pop of her lips, and looked down at the little mess before him. Her cheeks were stained with tears, drool spilling from her lips, her thighs rubbing together to relieve the tension between her legs.

He pushed her back into the snow and got on his knees, placing himself between her legs. He wrapped his hand around her throat again, rubbing his fingers at the wetness between her legs.

“You’ve missed me?” He asks.

“I’ve missed that cock.” She teases.

“Don’t worry. There won’t be much to miss soon.” He presses a harsh kiss to her lips, sliding himself into her. She gasps into his lips, trying to pull away to cry out, but he refuses to let her go. He pulls one of her legs to his chest to give him a deeper angle and she whines into his lips. He starts thrusting, fast and harsh, into her healing cunt. His hand moves from her throat to her breast, now round and large with milk than the last time he’d had her.

“Cregan!” She cries out loudly, finally breaking free from his lips. She throws her head back into ecstasy, her hair becoming wet from the snow. Cregan moans loudly, his thrusts sloppy and quick.

“I’m putting another babe in you.” He moans, forgetting why he was there to retrieve her in the first place.

“I’ll fucking kill you.” She says, slapping him across the face. He looks at her angrily, a wolf awakening inside him. He grabs her face, his fingers digging into her cheeks as he fucks her harshly and angrily.

“I’m gonna cum.” She whines, squeezing her eyes shut tight.

“Don’t.” He says. She gasps, begging and pleading for her release. He slows his thrust, leaving her in agony. She bucks her hips towards him, but he pushes them down, locking her in place with his strong arm.

“I fucking hate you.” She moans.

“Cum for me then, and we can see if that is how you feel for me after.” His thrusts go back to their fast, sloppy pace, and she moans. Her hands grab his wrist, clawing her nails into his forearm.

She hits her peak and moans his name repeatedly. Her fingers dig into the snow again, the other hand digging into his arm. He growls, not stopping and continuing to thrust.

“Stop it.” She whispers, her body shaking at the sensitivity. Cregan doesn’t listen, only maintaining his harsh pace. He lifts both of her legs to his chest, his length touching her womb. “Please, Cregan, fuck!” She whines, tears spilling from her eyes at the overstimulation.

Her fists hit his chest, and yet he continues. She slaps him across the face, over and over again, and he still continues, his face stoic, desperate for nothing more than to see her writhing beneath him.

She sobs as she cums on him again, slapping and hitting him harshly. Her body is a trembling mess, peaking with pleasure and pain. Finally satisfied, he lets his own peak wash over him, filling her to the brim with his seed again, right against her womb. He rests over her, moaning and biting her neck, despite her nails scratching and drawing blood against his neck.

“Cunt.” She moans into his shoulder, holding him tightly against her shaking body. He pulls out, gently, allowing her to rest before he carries her back into the cave, stepping into the hot spring with her in his arms.

She rests against him, and it’s as if they had never been apart. He looks over at their sleeping babe on the ground, smiling gently. He looks back down at his love, his smile fading.

“There is a war brewing in Westeros.” He finally tells her.

“What for this time?” She asks, drawing little shapes on his chest, not seeming to really care about his answer.

He decides to wait to tell her, instead wanting to enjoy the moment with her.

“I’m sorry for what I said to you… before I left.” He says. She sighs.

“Cregan… Do you wish to know why I killed the Lord Commander?”

He looks down at her, confused. He assumed her only reason was she hated crows. She looks up at him.

“Why?” He asks.

She waits before explaining. “He’d come out there before with some of his men. They often hunted wildlings for fun. They’d tell the men back at the wall it was for a hunting exhibition, but really… They were tired of the women from some place called Mole’s Town.”

Cregan was still confused.

“That was years ago, when I was in a tribe… But, the crows just kept coming back… And our tribe refused to leave, because our ancestors had settled there hundreds of years before.” She pauses, “The Lord Commander always said I was his favorite… I left eventually. Turns out I’m safer alone. That’s when I started killing crows.”

Cregan realized he was gripping her arm too tightly, and loosened his hold. What she said changed everything. Men were coming beyond the Wall to force themselves on wildling women. He wanted to be sick. Cregan’s last words to her before he left… that he would kill her for what she did.

Anger ignited inside him, but there was nothing he could do. The Lord Commander was dead, she got her revenge. But, the thought of that happening to her, the words he spoke before he left her alone. It was too much.

She noticed his tension, and placed her hand on his cheek. “My wolf.” She whispered. He closed his eyes and turned away from her touch.

“I’ve failed you… Again, and again, and again.” He says, tears spilling from his eyes.

She straddles him, forcing him to look at her. “Aye. You have.” He looks at her, not expecting brr bluntness. She wipes his tears. “But you’re still mine, Cregan Stark… and I’m not perfect either.”

He presses a soft kiss to her lips, wrapping his arms around her.

“So, what were you saying about the war?” She asks, resting her head on his shoulder.

“There is a war forming between the dragons. It is growing more and more dire.”

“Dragons?” She asked. “Like in the stories?”

“Aye, my lady. Except these are no stories. The dragons are dancing, and the North must stand ready to fight with the true Queen.”

“Queen?” She asks. “Aren’t you King in the North?”

“No, my love. Starks bent the knee over a century ago.”

She leans back to look at him. “Bend the knee to me.”

“I do every time I stick my cock in you.” She laughs, a sweet and gentle laugh, no longer the chaotic one she used to do.

“You’re different.” He says, a smile on his face.

“I am a mother now. My child has softened my witch heart.” She jests.

Mother. The mother to his child, specifically. He couldn’t ask her to lead the gray beards no longer. She needed to return to Winterfell with him to raise their son. His smile fades and she notices.

“You’re different.” She repeats his words. “Why did you come? Truly?”

“You are a warrior… and the North must stand ready.” He looks at her, his eyes worried.

“You… You want me to fight?” She asks, stepping off him and standing. The water stops at her hips, and he tries hard to keep his attention focused on her face. “Just a moon after I nearly died pushing out your fat little babe?”

��No, no, my lady. I do not want you fighting no longer.” He looks at her, taking her hands in his. “I want you to come home… with me. To Winterfell.”

“My home is the North.” She says, taking her hand away.

“No, no.” He stands, resting his hands on her arms. He looks over at their sleeping son. “He changes everything.”

His son would be considered a bastard, by all traits, but he was his son nonetheless. He would raise him as a Stark… as his heir to Winterfell.

“Home is not a place.” Cregan says. “A home is what you make it… My place may be in Winterfell, but it is not my home if you and my son are not with me.”

She sighs. “I’m no lady, Cregan.”

“I know… and I don’t care.”

“I will not watch you marry a noble while I am your whore that you force to work in your castle and fuck at night.”

“I would never ask that of you.” Cregan says, putting his hand on the back of her neck to pull her closer. “Starks are honorable men. You will be my wife, and my son will be my heir. I will kill any man who ever dares harm you again.”

She stares at him as he continues. “I needed an excuse to come back out here… If I told them I came out here to get you to lead the Northern army, then it raised less suspicion. But, I care no longer. I only care about you.”

“What if I say no? That I won’t join you?” She asks.

“Then I would accept.” He looks at his son. “All I ask is you let me bring him.”

She looks at their son. Cregan continues. “He will never know a cold night, he will learn to fight among men, he’ll have a full belly every time he goes to sleep, he’ll be respected by all those around him… and if you came, so would you.”

She looks back at Cregan. “He will join you.”

Cregan closes his eyes, her hand resting against his cheeks.

“As will I.” He opens them to look at her again.

“Truly?” She nods. He laughs, breathlessly, pulling her in for a deep hug. His fingers weave into her hair, holding her tightly against his chest.

“I will fight for you as well.” He pulled away to look at her.

“No.” He says. “No, I need you with me at Winterfell.”

“Cregan… A queen! You honor me, choosing me to lead your Northern army.”

“I don’t want you to.” He says. “What of our son? You could be gone for years… You could not return.”

She laughs, “My Lord Stark… You’d be a bloody fool to think any man could kill me.”

“This is hardly a war between men, my girl. This is a war between dragons, and none will ever be so bloody.”

“Cregan… I am of the free folk, which means I will always be free. Being free means I have the choice to fight for you… and for a Queen.”

———

Cregan returned to Winterfell a week later, carrying his babe in his arms on his horse, with a wilding woman behind him.

His maester was bewildered at the sight before him. “My Lord… Who is this babe you carry?”

“Maester, this is my son and this woman here is his mother… and my betrothed. She will be leading the graybeards in the war. Call upon wet nurses and maids to help foster our son while she is gone.”

“A-At once, My Lord.” The maester stumbled over his words, giving the wildling one last look before going to do his task.

Later that night, her and Cregan sat in his chambers. His lover couldn’t help but explore and ask questions about everything in the castle.

“What is this?”

“A pen and paper.”

“What does it do?”

“Well, you tell the maester a message and then he writes it down and gives it to a raven to send off.”

“And this?”

“A tub.”

“What does it do?”

“Bathes you.” It went on like this for hours, but he didn’t care. He was glad to share with her his way of life. Her naiveness at noble life was sweet.

When they cuddled up in his furs in their now shared bed, she laughed with giddiness. “Ask them to bring more.”

“My love, you’re under four bear pelts and the hearth is at full flame, you’re going to get hot.”

“Hot?”

“Warm, my girl. Too warm.”

“I don’t care. This is all so exquisite. You should’ve brought me here much sooner, you know.”

Cregan simply smiled, looking down at their son in his arms. “Did you have any names in mind for him?”

She hums, resting on her elbow to face them. “Cregan is quite a handsome name.”

“We can name give him a Stark name if you like mine.”

“Like what?”

“How about… Benjen Stark.”

“Benjen.” She whispered, sitting up and touching her son’s dark locks. “I love it.”

Her and Cregan locked eyes, staring at each other in silence. “You don’t have to go, my love.”

“I do.” She says, cradling Cregan’s cheek.

“I wish to marry you, make you Lady Stark of Winterfell.”

“I will be your… Lady… when I return.” She says, unsure of the proper term to use.

He laughs, “Wife. You will be my wife. I can have the maester teach you to read and write upon your return.”

“Truly?” She asks. “Like stories?”

“Stories, history, anything my betrothed wishes to read she can.”

“Betrothed?”

“It means we’re to be wed, at some point.”

She presses her forehead to Cregan’s. “I can’t believe I am here.”

“Neither can I, my love.”

He presses a gentle kiss to her lips, and they fell asleep like that, Benjen full and warm in his father’s arms.

Cregan and his love were only able to share a few nights together before it was time for her to march with the graybeards.

“You are strong, my lady. Command these men like you did me, and they’ll follow you anywhere.”

Cregan lifted her onto her horse, and she nervously settled into the saddle. He stepped onto his own, Benjen tightly secured to his chest as the babe was to his mother when Cregan stumbled back upon them.

She took her hand in his, and he pressed a gentle kiss to it. “Come back safe to me, my girl.”

She smirked, “You have no idea how long I’ve been waiting to kill some Southerners.”

“Goodbye, my sweet boy.” She says, touching Benjen’s hair one last time.

“Take care of our son, Cregan.” He nodded, tears welling in his eyes.

“I have a gift for you before you go.”

His master at arms came to him, handing him the freshly made dire wolf crest. He pinned it on her chest, and she looked down, tracing her fingers over the craftsman ship.

“You are a Stark… from this day, until your last day.” He said. She looked at Cregan, pride in her face.

“I’ll make you proud, my Lord Stark.”

He handed her the dagger, the very thing that brought them together. “I know you will.”

With that, she turned and slowly began to leave with her horse.

She turned to look back at them. “By the way, I killed your horse last year.”

Cregan’s smile faded, but then she laughed, and he couldn’t help but laugh too. She turned back around, and he looked down at his son, his beautiful little pup. The babe’s big gray eyes staring back at the ones he inherited from his father.

Cregan rode the opposite direction from her. He turned again to look at her one last time, and she turned to look at him too.

He smiled at her, letting the tears fall. She smiled back. He watched her ride the opposite way, and she watched him as he rode back to Winterfell until they could no longer see each other.

He would miss her greatly, but he knew she would return. This parting would not be forever, for they knew that they were bonded by love, seperated by only distance this time. No wall, no duty, no pain would ever come between them again.

He couldn’t wait for her to get back to them so they could start their life together.

Forever.

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impossiblesuitcase · 5 months ago

Text

This You I Choose - part i.

Peeta is rescued from the Capitol, tortured but not hijacked, and 'this would've happened anyway' happens earlier.

When Peeta and I do reunite, he doesn’t kiss me like I’d expected him to. He’s in a stupor, vague and bleary-eyed and can only weakly mouth my name in disbelief. His limbs are rubber as I crash into him yet he wraps them around me all the same. I’m the one to cup his face in my hands, sobbing and angry and so relieved it electrifies every nerve in my body.

The doctors prod at him for what feels like the length of a whole Hunger Games, and I’m waiting for them to leave so I can cry and hold him and I need them to just leave. Leave.

They don’t. So I pretend they aren’t there.

Peeta doesn’t kiss me. He doesn’t grin or tease like he did without fail in the arena, no matter how dire the situation. He strokes my hair, face slack with awe. He repeats my name, again and again and again like a mockingjay. My questions—interrupted by sobs—go unanswered. Are you okay? What did they do to you? Where did they hurt you?

So as the doctors are grabbing his arm far too roughly for my liking and forcing a needle into his vein, he squirms something awful.

And I kiss him.

Once, twice, again and again. It’s kiss five that he registers and kisses me back, and then this lasts for a long time but never long enough. Haymitch comes to collect me, tears me from Peeta’s arms so the doctors can experiment on him some more. I thrash, I scream. Peeta does too.

I’m not allowed back in the hospital until the next morning. With no doctors closely lingering, I crawl under the thin hospital blanket and envelop him in my arms. I trace his scars, monitor his crackling breaths and sponge kisses to his lips and pulse points. When I stop, he comes in for more, and I know that we are both administering pain medication this way.

The morphling relaxes him, but I think my touch is much longer lasting.

———

Over the next days I am consumed by Peeta. He is constantly on edge, distrusting everybody except a handful. Me, Prim, occasionally my mother. Even Haymitch is a bad taste in his mouth, and for how little he speaks, we’re all shocked when he summons the lung capacity to scream at him for lying to us in the Quarter Quell.

It ends in whimpering sobs, which only abate as I cradle his head into the wee hours of the morning.

I can’t stand to be parted from him, convinced Snow will turn the corner, laugh at me balefully and taunt from those puffy lips, “Oh, Miss Everdeen, you didn’t truly think I’d let you keep him?” When those nightmares awaken me at night, I do my best to stifle my gasps. I can’t disturb Peeta’s precious few hours of sleep.

Something different now is how often I kiss him. It’s for his sake, I think at first, but I begin to seriously doubt that. When I’m forced to leave his side for meals I swear I feel myself growing weaker if I go too long without my source.

Haymitch relays to me updates on the resistance, their efforts, Coin and Plutarch’s latest strategies. He more than once reminds me that Coin is looking for a Mockingjay, not the star-crossed lovers, and I’m expected to eventually show up to strategy meetings. I ignore him.

Once, when I’m barred from his room by the doctors—citing a medical procedure that cannot be interfered with—I return to my own quarters. Prim is there, stroking that mangy cat, and looks surprised to see me.

“You’re back?”

“Not for long. Just until they let me back into the hospital,” I grumble.

Prim stands and heaves Buttercup up to her chest, who hisses at me as though I’m the one who disturbed his rest. She opens the drawer where my belongings lie; the locket, the stopwatch, the pearl.

“I thought you might want to take this.” She picks up the pearl and folds it into my palm.

I run it around my knuckles. “Why?”

“Haymitch suggested that you ‘give it to the boyfriend,’” she explains. “We thought it might settle him a bit.”

I scoff at Haymitch’s choice of words and look at Prim, expecting a glint of teasing in her eyes. She of all people knows the love story was for show. To protect her, in fact. A byproduct of protecting my sister’s childhood for all these years is that she has the gall of a teenager. She makes jabs at me often but her giggles and grins always give it away. I wait for this now, but her face is as sound as ever.

“What?”

She looks at me, innocent and unblinking. “You know, to remind him of how things were before he was in the Capitol.”

“You think he’s my boyfriend?” I spit out.

She smiles. “A lot of people think that. I’ve seen you together since he was rescued. Seemed a little more than friendly.”

“That’s no different to how we were in the Games,” I argue.

“Yes it is. No one’s forcing you to do any of it anymore.” Buttercup is glaring at me condescendingly, and I hate the idea that this stupid cat thinks it understands emotions better than I can. “You’re a bad actress, Katniss,” Prim continues, laughing a little. “And you hate being lovey-dovey. Could you have played out that romance thing with anyone else?”

No. But maybe—Gale…and then, I don’t think either of us would’ve thought to play the romance card. We would’ve treated it as one of our hunts, except some of our prey spoke like us. I try to imagine if I’d like the strategy better and I’m struck by a realisation. Gale would have killed. Not just defensively. I remember—just before I was taken to the Capitol for the first Games—he told me that the other tributes were just like animals. Would he have set up snares and traps, sized to fit a child rather than a rabbit? Would he have sought to eliminate our competition? Peeta wasn’t just trying to protect us with the love angle. It prevented us from having to kill.

Would I have been horrified by Gale by the end of the Games?

“Maybe it was for the Games, but I don’t think you could’ve done it if you hadn’t at least liked the person to begin with,” Prim observes.

I gape at my sister and her unabashedness and how she’s right. I think about my own mother; how I reject her every advance and brush of affection. I certainly wouldn’t have been able to kiss and feign endearment for some random boy that I met in the Games, even with survival on the line. I would’ve recoiled instantly and Haymitch would’ve groaned as the sponsors dried up and I’d be dead.

But I hadn’t really known Peeta before the Games. Not properly. How did he make it so easy?

I snatch up the locket, tuck the pearl in the pocket of my uniform. “I’m going to lunch,” I say, despite the hollowness in my stomach having nothing to do with food. Prim bids me goodbye, unfazed by my flightiness.

After a lacklustre meal of some grey mush, I check the schedule on my arm and finally follow it.

———

“Hey, Catnip.”

I jump back, startled. Even with the telltale nickname, it doesn’t immediately register to me that the newcomer is Gale. As I turn to face him, taking in the amusement in his seam-grey eyes, I scold myself. This is Gale. Whom I’ve been spending almost all of my time with since coming to 13.

It’s only in realising this that I also realise I haven’t seen him since Peeta’s return.

“Hey,” I say.

“Feeling better?”

I cock my head to the side. “Better?”

“Now that Peeta’s back,” he says, like it’s obvious. “Do you feel like yourself again?”

I’ve been incomplete since he was kidnapped, and I try to determine if I’m whole now that he’s been returned. Almost. He isn’t quite the Peeta that I lost anymore; still, I am not his Katniss from the Seam.

“I don’t know. Maybe.”

He gazes at me expectantly. I quirk an eyebrow.

A chortle rocks his chest. “You’re not going to ask if I’m okay? After rescuing his life?”

Right. Prim, Gale, Peeta. The three people I protect in every universe. “Sorry, I’ve been distracted lately,” I confess sheepishly, scratching my forearm. “How are you?”

“Fine.”

Seeing him again makes me feel steadier. A little more like that girl from the woods. “What are you doing here?”

He taps the tattoo on his arm. “I’m rostered to be here. As are you.”

Weapons training. Trainee soldiers are scattered around the range, some aiming at targets and others being taught the anatomy of a gun by a soldier. No one is shooting yet. With how skittish I become at loud sounds these days, I’ll probably leave when that starts. Gale unstraps a gun from his holster and hands it to me. I fiddle with its mechanisms, trying to recall any of the training on its assembly.

Gale watches for a while and decides to pity me. “Here, let me show you.”

He comes up behind me, my back to his chest. His arms weave around my waist and lay over my hands. Then he manoeuvres them around the parts, removing the magazine and the other pieces I don’t know the name of and leads my hands in a rehearsed dance of reassembling them.

This closeness is nice and familiar. I haven’t embraced him for a while now, but his strong heartbeat reflected against my back reminds me that—even in these dismal bunkers of 13—I can have a piece of home.

With the weapon readied, I graze the trigger and have a sudden vision of it firing against my will. A shudder courses through me. His hands still.

“What’s wrong?”

My head shakes on its own. “Nothing.” But knowing he won’t believe that, I shakily amend, “It’s…this whole thing. We can’t live in this bunker forever. But 12 is gone. I feel like I’m just waiting for this stint to be over”—and to kill Snow, I don’t say—“so we can just go home.”

“Me too.”

“No. I can’t want that.” I extricate myself from him, turning to face him instead. His face is set with hardness as always but his eyes droop with sympathy. “I’m alive. So is Prim and my mother and you. And Peeta was taken from me but he’s back. I have better things to fret over.”

Gale cups my face with one hand and I lean into the touch. “It was home, Katniss. Of course you miss it.”

“I don’t deserve to.” And then I whisper what’s been underlying, plaguing me for weeks with nowhere for the thought to go. “Not when it’s my fault.”

He looks displeased. “Did you drop the bomb?”

I’m starting to think that that doesn’t matter much anymore. That whether you’re at the scene of the crime or being lifted from a broken arena by hovercraft, every thread eventually leads back to the spool. The larking Mockingjay.

“I did, in a way, didn’t I? Doesn’t matter if I was there or not. I practically devised it with every move I made against Snow.”

“Things happen in war, Katniss.” Perhaps I would agree with him, but the roiling in my stomach can’t easily digest this simplification. “You can’t keep hurting yourself. You have to forgive yourself.”

I toss the gun to the floor, loathing the sight of it and distancing myself from him because he’s wrong when his hands still me. His eyes are deep with intent. Then he’s leaning in and I have ample time to know what’s coming. I allow him.

The second his lips touch mine, I flinch. It’s instinct. I have no control over the action.

He pulls away. “What’s wrong?”

“I…” I trail off, unable to find the words. I don’t know what’s wrong.

He considers me for a long moment, then shoves his hands in his pockets and rocks back on his heels. “I see.”

“What? What do you see?”

He shakes his head, voice acerbic. “No, no, I knew. But I ignored it. Can’t anymore though, can we?”

“Tell me,” I order, because he’s being cryptic and irritable and I am unable to draw the conclusion he has. It frustrates me just how well he can read my own emotions when I can’t even decipher them myself. I thought it was bad enough from Buttercup, but this is exponentially worse.

“You love him. Peeta.”

The instinct to refute him shrivels up in my chest. It doesn’t ring false. Yes, I do care about Peeta. He’s a friend. An ally. A partner.

“I care about him,” I agree. “But I care about you too.”

“How?” he challenges.

“The same as him. You’re my friends. My allies.”

He crosses his arms over his chest, frowning. “But that isn’t all.”

I think of when Gale was whipped, laying beneath the cover of ice, and I chose him. Then, as soon as I’d been called for the Quarter Quell, I had been all too comfortable seeking another pair of arms to warm me. Because I was lonely, a voice scolds. Because I’m selfish.

Am I still lonely now? Yes. Am I clinging to Peeta merely because I need company? Is that why I would have done anything to get him back?

I would’ve killed Snow. And Coin. And if Gale stood in my way….

“I don’t know,” I say.

“Don’t you?” he says bitingly. “Isn’t that the reason you’ve been glued to his hip since the moment he came back?”

“And what’s it to you?” I snap.

“You know what.”

Because I owe him. As a friend. As I had personally appointed myself to be Gale’s lover. Even if ‘lover’ never came to fruition. Even if he never knew it.

Peeta. Friend. Ally. Partner. There’s something unsaid. For Peeta, partner feels…insufficient. Something is missing.

The hunger coursing through my body. The desperation I felt without him.

“No. That’s not all. Not for him,” I admit.

Gale chuckles ruefully. He reaches out and tucks hair behind my ear. There’s a coldness on his face with the action. “I knew. Since I saw you kissing him on that beach, I knew—it was a foregone conclusion. You’ve chosen him.”

“That’s not—”

“When you were kissing him in the arena, were you thinking about me?” he interrupts.

My mouth opens and closes a few times. “Sometimes. I’d feel guilty about kissing him. Because of you.”

“Because you wanted to be kissing me? Or because you thought I’d be hurt by it?”

His words—plain, but cutting—stun me. I hadn’t allowed myself to consider it, but isn’t it true? Did I want him in my arms, rocking me to sleep, kissing me and me kissing him? No, I wasn’t thinking of that at all. I felt guilty. It felt like I was being unfaithful to him.

I can recognise that feeling because at this moment he has stolen the kiss from my mouth that is reserved for Peeta’s lips.

All the moments I’ve shared with this boy run past my thoughts and away into oblivion. I think about how I spent years with him, alone in the woods. How at any point my feelings should have developed and appeared. How only now, in war and Games and death, do I feel a longing for him.

If this is over, do I see myself in his arms? When things are good? Do I crave his kisses? His comfort?

Gale leans in and kisses me on the cheek. It’s familial and stirs nothing beneath my sternum. “Told ya. I won’t stand in your way, Catnip.”

Then he leaves. I have no desire to chase after him though I feel I should. It’s the nice thing to do, the friendly thing. But after this interrogation, I wonder if that’s why I do anything for Gale. Because I fear that if I don’t he will leave me and I can’t bear to lose anyone else.

I listen to his retreating footsteps until the guns begin to fire. I touch my hand to my cheek.

———

I spend a good hour meandering down the halls of 13’s gloomy bunker. My thoughts tick over on repeat, again and again and again. Peeta will be waiting for me and that’s louder than most of my other ruminations.

You’ve chosen him, Gale said, but that tastes like a lie in my mouth. That implies that I have committed to a relationship, and in turn a future, a marriage, children. Anyone who knows me knows I haven’t committed to that, ever. So there’s no choice to make.

Some choices I have made were never choices in the first place. To volunteer for Prim. To ally with Rue. To save Peeta in the Quarter Quell over myself. Those were never something I decided. I would not be Katniss Everdeen if I had chosen otherwise.

I reach the hospital. My feet brought me here unbidden, drawn by the magnetism lying inside. Peeta. I linger by his doorway, listening for his slow breathing. If he’s asleep, I’ll go in. That way I can just look at him. To understand. To decide if Gale is right.

“Katniss?” I hear him call softly.

I enter. He’s smiling wearily, tired but content. “How did you know I was there?” I ask.

“I didn’t. I heard footsteps. I was hoping it was you.”

My arms are crossed over my chest, my stance defensive.

His brow furrows. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” I resist.

“Well, then come here.” He holds out his arms.

“What?”

“The most effective treatment for ‘nothing’ is burying yourself in hugs. Shouldn’t you know that—healer’s daughter?”

He must be picking up a bit if he’s teasing me like this, so I go over. I cuddle up in his arms and my skin is electric with his touch. It’s never felt this way before. Not even on the beach. That was hunger. This is safety, my soul fitting back into my body exactly as it should. I have embraced him every day and night since his return, but this ailment is symptomatic only now that I know about it.

I can never leave his arms. I kiss him, just to double-check, and I sigh as I have my confirmation.

I never chose Peeta. Just like I never chose Prim or Rue. It is, what did Gale call it? A foregone conclusion.

It would be against my very being to not need him.

I pull away and he whines, gently. “Hey, I was enjoying that.”

“You can have more.”

He gives me a tired grin. “When?”

I lay my head on his chest and settle in for the night. My mother won’t be expecting me anyway. She’s given up trying to keep me from him. In fact, only two days past Finnick had teased that Plutarch’s query as to my whereabouts was stupid, because I had a new residence in the Mellark room in the hospital. When Prim relayed the story to me I’d been ambivalent about to react. Now, I want to scoff alongside Finnick. Yes, what a stupid question. Where else would I be?

“Whenever you want.”

Notes

Part two

@gingerale2017 i know you love everlark ;)

#thg #everlark #everlark fanfiction #katniss and peeta #the hunger games #katniss everdeen #peeta mellark #gale hawthorne #prim everdeen

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hedwig221b · 6 days ago

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hedwig please..........please when are you releasing twilight au...please i need it im dying i cant sleep i cant eat i am just thinking of it... whennnn <<333 jkkk but for real when is it coming? this twihard is in dire need of it

Well... funny that you ask... cause I've just finished writing it

Like, for real, it sits at a whopping 67k and it's done. Obviously I have to edit it now and polish it, but I think I fucking ate??? Like, seriously?

ANYWAY HEDWIG221B STEREK TWILIGHT AU COMING JANUARY 2025!!! AT ANY MOMENT!

seriously lmao idk when I'm gonna be done editing, it could be a week or two or three, we'll see

I have to warn each and every one of you, though, that it needs a sequel (New Moon), desperately so, for it to be a truly complete work. Initially, I wanted to combine them or to shove them into one fic, but now, as I wrapped it up, I see that the Twilight au needs to be its own fic. I am saying it now that it will! have! a sequel! (and oh boy will it be fucking nuts)

P.S. if you don't know anything about Twilight, you will still greatly enjoy the fic, I promise this with my entire ass. The story will make perfect sense without any Twilight knowledge. Twihards, babes... I made it my mission to make you giggle with all the references.

#i watched twilight yesterday as a treat and i laughed the entire movie #it's so adorably awkward and cringey in the best way I love it #although I wrote this au with the utmost respect and tender care for the original books don't you worry #sterek #sterek fic #sterek fanfic #sterek twilight au #hedwig221b replies #anon asks #i can't believe it's done #y'all gonna scream at me at the ending

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dxmoness · 1 year ago

Text

─────── NEW ROMANTICS.

✩ ིྀ ! WE'RE ALL BORED, WE'RE ALL SO TIRED OF EVERYTHING ! •˙ ⌗

𓂃 ࣪ c. henituse + boredom has its own solutions ˖ 𖦹

“this is so boring.” cale groans as he fiddles with the piece of parchment in his hand. his eyes linger towards the female who was indulged in reading something about mystics, that he could have sworn she said was a stupid book that was nonfactual yet still read with an engrossed desire.

“Oi. Earth to name, i am in dire need of some affectionate company over here.” he seemed sarcastic in saying it, but in his heart he really did. the female did not move an inch, immediately realizing the depth of her reading he decides to take a different approach or entertainment and just simply admires her from where he is.

he sighs deeply before he buries his face in the books and sleeps. only now did name notice him, a small smile flickered on her delicate lips as she looks for something he could lay his head on that wasn't a hardbound book.

she takes off her own coat, not at all minding the freezing frostbite of air she felt as she folds it up and places it under his head, slipping off the book and replacing it in a quick motion.

proud of her work, she made the decision to return to her book. before she could, cale’s hand shot out and kissed her soft fingers. his lips grazing on her knuckles brought more than enough colour to her pale skin.

embarrassed as she was, she gave him a playful swat and left. leaving a chuckling cale behind.

✩ ིྀ ! HEARTBREAK IS OUR NATIONAL ANTHEM, WE SING IT PROUDLY ! •˙ ⌗

𓂃 ࣪ j. agriche + how to get away from political marriage ˖ 𖦹

for some reason, her best friend jeremy had the sudden idea to meet her in the woods in secret and she hasn't the foggiest idea why.

but like the good friend she is, she went anyway. she enters the quiet midst of the forest. her eyes look warily around her, noticing a whine of a horse she follow the direction of the sound.

she finds jeremy, sitting on his horse. his blue eyes seem to shine when he sees her. he slides off and takes her hand, kissing it gently.

“lovely to see you've come, my beautiful lady.” you could swear it almost sounded sincere, but that is simply uncertain due to jeremy being an agriche by heart.

“yes, yes. what's the meaning of this?” she responds, her response seemed to make him flinch.

“i’ve upset you, my lady. that was not my intention.” jeremy murmured. “but let's get straight to the point, i'm here to let you in on one or my schemes.” he could tell this peaked her fragile line of interest. “i need you to be my pretty mistress.”

“what?!” she is stunned to say the least. and she had every right to be.

he gave a small smile to her outburst. “my father wants me in a political marriage and i do not like the woman i’ve been paired up with.” “so you're asking me to helo you break here heart?” name asks and he nods. “are you insane? sign me in.” she grins and jeremy chuckles, patting her head.

in the end, the fake relationship for heartbreak turned to a real one that they consummated quickly.

✩ ིྀ ! PLEASE TAKE MY HAND AND PLEASE TAKE ME DANCING ! •˙ ⌗

𓂃 ࣪ h. niccolo + a dance with the marquis ˖ 𖦹

it all went by so fast, the marquis spoke with her and a moment later took her to dance. his fingers intertwined with hers, his arm on her waist. the two of them swayed gracefully on the dance floor.

their dance seemed to catch everyone's attention as everyone seemed mesmerized. it ie understandable. even she is. the marquis is beautiful, breathtaking. words could not describe his elegance, his looks. he is an angel that descended from heaven.

and to be dancing with him? that is a high honour for her. she is absolutely in awe. also quite panicky. she didn't want to do any wrong, especially not with him as her partner.

he suddenly carried her and spun her around moving her down, they spin and twirl for ages. when they finish, he guides her to the quieter parts of the party. his eye filled with love and admiration as he kisses her on the hand.

“thank you dearest. it was a lovely time to dance with you.” hie voice is soft, gentle, soothing... his purple eyes is fixated on her own. his hand slipe and caresses her cheek. “you look ravishing, my lady.”

this brought a flush of colour on her cheeks. “thank you..”

“no problem.” he smiles and kisses her cheek so suddenly. “please excuse me now, lovely. i’ll see you again sometime, yes?” he asks, and she nods.

✦. ⊹ ˚ dedicated to @bertry3 !! gift no.2

guests — @lombxrdi , @achy-boo ,

@crownxie , @histxricaldrama ,

@yevene , @nyrwve , @hikamins : ˚⊹ ᰔ

────────────────────

take inspo or translate my

work! none of the chars i

write for are mine unless

stated!

#manhwa #manhwa x reader #jeremy agriche x reader #twtpflob #twtpflob x reader #the way to protect the female lead's older brother #the way to protect the female lead's older brother x reader #trash of the count's family #trash of the duke's family #trash of the count's family x reader #cale henituse x reader #your throne #your throne x reader #helio niccolo #helio niccolo x reader #helio tropium x reader #— the skillfulness of the deities. . . . written works ♡#— a field of dreams and desires. . . . manhwa ♡

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pendingnomdeplume · 23 days ago

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i am drowning, and there's no sign of land pairing: hozier x gn!reader rating: T tags: angst, mental illness, hurt/comfort words: 761

author's note: This was pre-written and is part of a backlog of items I still have from the previous blog. xoxo.

title from: No Children by The Mountain Goats divider by: cafekitsune

It’s late when you call, a last resort for which you’ll profusely apologize and ask forgiveness that you’ll never believe or accept. The stains of leftover tears make your skin feel tight as you rub at your swollen eyes and take a deep breath. At least your breathing has evened, no longer wracked with hiccuping sobs that make your ribs hurt.

“Hey, are you okay?” It’s the first thing to rush from his mouth, worry obvious in his voice. You can imagine him now, frizzy hair thrown up and out of the way while he sits at his computer or hunches over a notebook—the anxiety gripping his chest as he sees your name pop up at an hour that is usually all his own.

The only response you can summon is a humorless laugh as you shake your head despite him not being able to see it.

“Do you need me to call someone?” Andrew wouldn’t ask without reason, and you’d provided plenty of reason for this level of concern before.

“Nothing so dire.” You wince at the way your voice cracks. “It’s just…it’s been a night.”

“Tell me about it.”

It’s such a simple phrase, but it makes your heart swell and tears prick the corners of your eyes. One of the few people who’s never made you feel like a burden on them.

You sigh. “My brain won’t stop, and it’s so loud today. I don’t know what actually triggered it, but…it’s been pretty touch-and-go the last few days.”

You brace yourself for an impact that likely won’t come. Andrew isn’t like that, won’t blame you for not reaching out sooner as if it’s a moral failing. Likely, he’ll be more frustrated with himself for not seeing signs even when you’ve worked so hard to conceal them.

“Did you email your psych?”

The question sends an electric buzz of irritation along your skin that you try to shake off. He knows you hate that question, but he also knows that you drag your feet on your own well-being—part of the menagerie of mental illness that convinces you it doesn’t matter anyway. You pause and take a deep breath to swallow down the snappy comment that desperately wants to break free.

“I did, but I don’t know when I’ll hear back.”

You’re both quiet as each of you thinks of the next thing to say, but everything that comes to mind is just as alarming as the call itself. A barrage of self-doubt, self-pity, and self-deprecation tumbles through your brain, and you squeeze your eyes shut as though it will do anything to quiet the roar.

“Do you…want to talk about it?” The question is asked thoughtfully and extended carefully. You take a moment to turn it over in your mind, gauging where exactly your own emotional energy is at.

Finally, you shake your head. “No, I don’t think…I don’t think there’s anything to really talk about. Not right now, anyway. I just…”

I just don’t feel real. I need an anchor to reality.

Andrew asks, “Do you want to get on FaceTime, then? I’m working on something if you want to hear.” If you need company.

When the screen fills with his image, he smiles and greets you softly. An acoustic guitar rests in his lap as he flips back through his notebook to find where he’d left off. As he plucks out quiet notes, you shimmy down under the covers and reach over to turn off your bedside lamp. Andrew glances over when he notices the shift in his peripheral vision, and he smiles again when he sees your eyes peeking out from beneath your duvet, already starting to get heavy with sleep.

You watch him for a while, occasionally catching the way he glances at his phone to see if you’re still there, still awake. Warmth floods your chest as he sings to himself, little sounds and whispers here and there as you catch a few words that make little sense to you within the greater context.

Sleep takes you just as the sky begins to shift. The birds just outside Andrew’s window signal dawn, and he’d nearly forgotten he was on a call at all with how comfortable and cozy the silence is between you.

He catches the way your eyes dart beneath closed eyelids, clearly in the depths of a dream. He whispers your name once, then repeats it louder than before, but you barely stir. Finally, he reaches over, letting his hand hover over the End Call button before whispering a barely audible, “Goodnight.”

#hozier fic #hozier x reader #sailor scout stories #scout has a backlog #i wrote this four months ago when i was really fucking in it and it's still relevant now so here you go

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xxgoblin-dumplingxx · 3 months ago

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do we get to see the logan and wade conflict about writer!reader? i am loving the series so far!!!

Wade laid you on the couch carefully, "How the fuck did you not shred your feet?"

"I dunno-"

"And why the fuck did you lie to me?" he asked.

You shrug, "If I could have gotten a word in edgewise it might have been different. But you were so busy buying "world's okayest uncle" shit-"

"Calling myself the best is conceited."

"Fuck you." You give him a look and Logan can't see what passes between you. And he tries Not to go over there. Not to loom. But when you start crying again it takes a monumental amount of effort.

"Okay, okay I get it. I'm a fucking asshole," Wade said, pulling you into a hug and rocking you gently. "Please stop crying. Don't cry. Fuck-"

Logan quietly. It was the same tone of voice as a kid smacking the other to hard and saying "don't tell mom". Except neither of you ever really told your mom anything- Well. You didn't if you could help it anyway.

"Can't help it," you sniffle.

"If you don't stop crying, I'll cry," he teased, reaching over to pass you tissues.

"Why-"

"Because," Wade teased. "My baby sister is sneaky enough to hide a whole baby daddy- You really had me thinking it was that hack mystery writer."

"Ugh. He wishes."

______________

Logan knew he was being watched. Carefully. By everyone. And he tried not to take it personally. It was his own fault, anyway.

But- it didn't make it any easier to take care of you. At least not for him, he kept waiting for someone to yell at him. But. When you reached for him. Looking for HIM to help you or just to be close to him it helped.

"How're you feelin', Princess?" he asked, wrapping his arms around you in the kitchen.

"Like I could go back to bed," you yawn, pouring a cup of coffee. "But. I gotta get some work done. Come up with some bank account padding."

"Sleep okay?" he asked, kissing your shoulder. He'd been next to you. You'd been wedged between him and a pillow. But, that didn't mean you slept very much.

"Fine," you tell him, turning your head to look at him, "Just- still running numbers trying to make the math, math."

Logan shook his head and pulled you a little closer, tentatively laying his hand on your stomach- you were starting to get a little bump now. He'd felt it when he held you. But. He wanted. Well. What he wanted didn't really matter- you were hesitating about some things. He'd gotten heated kisses and he could smell the need; your hormones driving you up the wall. But he was trying to keep the ball in your court. Even if he'd love to take you back to bed and fuck the thoughts out of your head. Replace the needy painful ache you couldn't quite soothe with an ache that left you satisfied.

"I picked up some construction work," Logan said. "It's gonna be fine, Y/N."

"Logan-"

"I told you," he hummed. "I wasn't gonna be some fuckin' deadbeat and make you do it all." He cradled the little bump and bent his head to bury his face in your neck. Grateful you didn't push his hands away. " 's my baby," he said. "Gonna make sure they're taken care of."

"You're a good man for the worst Wolverine," you tell him.

He chuckled and hugged you a little tighter, "Gotta take care of my girl to take care of my kid," he reminded. He let go of you and went to his jacket, pulling out his wallet and a small wad of cash. "It's not a lot," he said. "Used a chunk to get some documents so I could get a bank account. But- Here" He held it out to you insistently.

"It's not that dire, Logan," you tell him, gently pushing it back. "I can manage for now-"

"Take it and get yourself something then," he said ignoring you and tucking it teasingly into your shirt between your breasts. Trying not to notice that your stomach wasn't the only thing looking a little rounder. "I'm not any good at picking out presents."

You feel your body flood with heat when his fingers brush the skin of your breasts and it's all you can do not to whine. "I- thank you," you murmur, kissing his cheek before you had to turn and leave the kitchen. Before you threw yourself at him.

Logan took a deep breath and let you go. The scent of your arousal making him feel weak-kneed. Ball in her court, he reminded himself. Maybe putting the cash in your tits was too much. But- he'd heard enough horror stories on daytime TV with Althea. He didn't want you thinking he didn't WANT to fuck you. And he didn't want you thinking that you weren't attractive to him. He'd made up his mind. This was his girl and his kid.

#ask answered #minors dni #reader insert #Wolverine #wolverine x reader #writer!reader

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nowritingonthewall · 1 year ago

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Hi! Can I ask for some random and domestic Poe HC? 🤧

Hello Nonnie, thank you so much for your request! I am sorry that my hcs always appear to escalate into mini-essays, I hope that you enjoy them anyway 🥰

!Content warning for allusions to past trauma (because it’s Poe) but it’s mostly fluffy!

Domestic headcanons with Poe (x gn!reader)

- If you were honest, you would never have expected Poe to actually settle down after the Battle of Exegol and the fall of the First Order. After all, he had been on the run since he had been 16 years old, his family a bunch of rebels, his home scattered across the stars. You had fully expected him to make his new job as a flying instructor his whole new life, filling every second with something exciting to do, always chasing the next thrill, never slowing down and let himself think for even a minute.

Instead, after helping the New Republic to get back on its feet, he had put most of his energy and devotion into making a home with you.

Even though he loves his job teaching students (and spending a lot of time in his x-wing while doing so), he always makes sure to finish on time so that he can spend as much of the remainder of the day with you as possible. It has become one of your daily little rituals for you to wait for him, sitting on your porch, two mugs of freshly brewed caf in your hands. It never stops warming your heart to see that gorgeous crinkly-eyed smile lighting up his face as soon as he sees you waiting for him. Giving you an adorable little wave, he always quickens his pace before pulling you into a long and heartfelt hug.

Watching the suns painting the sky with the most beautiful colours imaginable, you’ll sit snuggled up against each other, listening to each other's daily adventures.

It usually doesn’t take long before Poe’s head grows heavy against your shoulders. The first few times he tried to fight it and wouldn’t stop apologizing, no matter how often you tried to assure him that you didn’t mind at all. But soon these late afternoon or early evening naps become just another part of your daily routine.

Poe spent more than half his life making sure that everyone around him felt safe. Now, with the war becoming a more and more distant memory each day, it’s like his mind finally allows his body to catch up on all the rest that he has been denied during all those years – finally feeling safe in your arms.

And there really aren’t a lot of things that you enjoy more than holding your sleepy boy with his head resting in your lap, one hand intertwined with his, as the other one plays with his hair. You smile at every patch of grey that you find among his inky curls, more than grateful to be given the precious gift of being allowed to watch him grow old with you. It makes the warmest and fuzziest feelings bloom inside your heart to see his worry lines relax under the soft touch of your hand as you listen to his content mumbling and cutest little sighs.

- He still can’t sleep without you around, though. Whenever he is in dire need of a nap, and the weather has gone too cold to sit outside, even under a heap of cuddly blankets, he’ll sit down on the couch, look at you with the most irresistible baby ewok eyes and his softest smile and tap on his chest to ask for his favourite human blanket.

Sometimes he falls asleep within seconds as soon as you snuggle up to him. Sometimes he finds that it wasn’t sleep that he craved after all but simply the comforting presence of you right next to him, listening to the soothing rhythm of your breathing as you drift into peaceful slumber until his breath synchronizes with yours in perfect harmony. And sometimes your planned naps turn into Poe and you talking nonsense for hours, exchanging forehead kisses and nose rubs between giggles.

Poe used to think that the only way to escape the constantly reoccurring ringing in his ears was to drown it out with something even louder. Now he realizes that all he needs to find relief is the soft warmth of you lying on top of him, the shape of your bodies fitting together as perfectly as if they had been custom made for each other.

- And he allows himself to take his time with everything that he does. No more bone crushing hugs that aren’t allowed to last longer than a second and that he’d hoped would convey everything that he hadn’t time for to tell you in case he wouldn’t make it back from a mission. No more quick and chaste kisses to whatever body part they would land on before hurrying off into the next briefing or meeting.

Now he makes sure to pour all of his undying love for you into every single hug until you feel nothing but warm and safe and cared for. Every kiss of him shows you that you are the centre of his universe, from the very first kiss in the morning to the last kiss goodnight. They have become so much more tender and gentler, yet they never leave a single trace of doubt about his feelings for you.

Quick shared showers that used to be a practical necessity turn into long shared baths that last until the water turns cold. Sometimes when you aren’t ready to step out of your cocoon of warmth just yet, you wrap each other in fluffy towels and make yourself comfortable on the heating unit waiting until you’re dried off.

As you cuddle up to each other, enjoying the closeness, you find a new softness and gentleness to your relationship that you had never thought possible. You are no longer clinging to each other for dear life, always scared that you might lose each other the next minute, constantly feeling like loving on borrowed time.

And Poe takes his time rediscovering and getting to know you all over again. Gently scrubbing your back in the bath or giving you a long tension-relieving massage. Learning everything there is to know about how you take care of your hair, while committing every single detail about you to memory. Not because he fears that every time might be the very last chance to do so but because he decided to commit every single fibre of his heart and soul to loving you. Because he chooses you. Over and over again.

It takes a while for him to get comfortable letting you take care of him the same way that he takes care of you. Yet every time it is your turn to hold him in the bathtub, he finds it a little easier to relax against your chest, melting into your embrace a little deeper. With every soft kiss pressed to his temple, he manages to let go a little further. As he rests his cheek against yours, while your hands are slowly caressing over his arms, he has never felt more vulnerable and at the same time more safe and protected than during those moments.

That’s when the tears tend to flow.

Those are the days when you make sure to take extra good care of him. Letting him rest his head against your shoulder as you carefully pat his back with a towel, gently kissing his tears away before placing a soft kiss on every single one of his scars, putting pain relieving lotion on his arm and massaging his tense shoulder. Only a few months ago this kind of special treatment would have made him feel more than uncomfortable. Seeing his own needs through your loving eyes, he slowly begins to accept that it is okay to take them seriously. And as he curls up against your chest, he doesn’t only allow it but he knows that he can completely trust you to take care of him.

- Poe has always loved to dance. Nearly as much as he loves to cuddle with you. Sadly, the days of the Resistance hadn’t exactly given you a lot of opportunity to do so and reasons to break into celebratory dances had been all too rare. So now he takes any chance he gets to hug you from behind, snuggle up as close to you as possible, rest his head on your shoulder and his cheek against yours while swaying the both of you to some music coming from your holopad or to a secret rhythm that only the two of you seem to be able to feel.

You dance in the morning while waiting for the first few cups of caf to brew, while waiting for something yummy baking in the oven, when you’re trying to dust the shelves, or while doing the dishes.

Doing the dishes never becomes a boring task with Poe. If he doesn’t turn it into a dance, there are bound to be lather battles that more often than not turn into tickle fights. And they always end with him using the dish cloth to draw you in for a long and wobbly-knees-inducing kiss.

This is also where most of your more serious conversations take place. It’s always been easier for Poe to talk about difficult topics while his hands have something to do. So whenever you feel like there’s something on his mind that he has trouble talking about, you’ll ask him “dish discussion?”, to which he answers with a relieved smile.

And, of course, should the topic require some serious hugging action, you can always continue your discussion on the kitchen floor, which proves over and over again to be the best place to solve any problem imaginable. And in case one of you should be in need of an even more comforting atmosphere, your kitchen cabinet features an extra compartment containing all the components required to build a blanket fort. It’s a habit that goes back to the early days of you joining the Resistance. And afterwards your blanket fort of safety can easily be converted into a blanket fort of romantic dinners and cuddle sessions.

- The two of you share a little garden with Rey, who doesn’t live too far away from you (I am sorry, LEGO, I refuse to believe that the trio would ever split up!). At least it was a little garden in the beginning. It all started when Poe noticed how Rey’s eyes would start to sparkle whenever she came across anything lush and green. So he began to present her with a special plant from every place that he visited. Pretty soon even her house was too small to accommodate her (not so) little personal jungle, so you helped her turning her backyard into a little garden. Which just kept on expanding. Because it never stopped warming Poe’s heart to see the way Rey’s face shining brighter than the suns whenever he found a new exotic plant for her.

He helped her create her special place of happiness both in her mind and in the physical world and you two are the only ones apart from Finn she trusts to take care of it. Even if your and Poe’s gardening sessions sometimes turn into several rounds of mud wrestling or splashy water fights.

Poe’s first very own gardening project featured the planting of a row of koyo trees. They weren’t even supposed to be able to grow in this climate but Poe Dameron has never been one to let logic or reason stand in the way of matters close to his heart. After all, he had managed to nurse a force tree back to health without any jedi tricks. And maybe Rey’s and Finn’s way with the force helped a little, too. Though he will always tell everyone willing (or maybe not too willing) to listen that it was your loving care that made the trees grow and flourish and bloom in the end.

His proud little face when he was able to harvest the very first fruit is another one of your many precious and treasured memories. Of course he let you have the first bite, almost a little nervous about your reaction.

The original plan was to turn the fruits into juice and jelly and lots of cakes. Which was a good plan. And it probably would have worked if the koyo fruits hadn’t been so damn tasty that you ate most of them before they ever had a chance to land in a basket. And what better way to spend the last days of summer than sitting lazily in the cool shadow of a koyo tree, taking turns to lie in each others lap while feeding each other freshly picked koyo fruits?

- During the nights when neither of you is able to sleep, you’ll climb onto the roof of your house, which offers a snug little platform that provides the perfect secluded retreat to lie on your back and gaze at all the stars in the galaxy. A galaxy that’s finally at peace.

Poe’s gaze keeps wandering back to you, though, and every time it does, he can’t stop smiling. As soon as you notice, you’ll snuggle a little closer to cradle his head and place the softest little kiss on his forehead, making him smile even wider. Softly stroking your cheek, he returns the kiss. On your nose, on your temple, across your jaw line, all over both of your cheeks, and everywhere he can reach.

You finally dare to make plans for the future again. Talking about all the stars and systems and planets you would like to explore together. Without rush, without being constantly on your guard, actually being able to look forward to visiting them.

The important thing is that Poe is no longer driven by the uncontrollable need to chase every single one of them. Because he has his own little galaxy lying right here by his side.

#poe dameron #star wars #poe dameron x reader #poe x reader #poe dameron x you #reader insert #poe dameron headcanon #fanfiction #poe dameron fanfiction #chrissie tries to write #chrissie gifs

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kivino · 1 year ago

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CLOSER || SLASHER!SIMON ‘GHOST’ RILEY X M!READER

my masterlist

ao3 link to this fic

Word counter – ~2.9k

Tags/Warnings – very much dead dove do not eat, dealing with dark topics, stalking, unhealthy obsession, kidnapping.

Summary – You hear various dark rumors from your colleagues and you don’t believe them, until there is one particular ghost looking you right in the eye.

A/n – Fair warning, I am not trying to romanticize all those things. Requested by the anon from this post. Not proofread, so i'm very sorry if there are any mistakes.

At first, you didn’t believe all the rumors about ghosts, ghouls, and serial killers scouring every corner of the town in the dark, scratching the brick walls and howling in the tight alleyways. Your coworkers who usually talked about that kind of stuff appeared like gossiping teenagers exchanging something they heard or saw. Whispering on their breaks over lunch, or in those hours when business in the little coffee shop you worked in was slow.

You thought their talks about some boogeyman hunting on the streets for new victims each night were silly at their best, and just distracting at their worst. You, coincidentally, were also usually the one working night shifts, taking over them after your female coworkers kept complaining about some creep waiting around until the end of the shift and scaring the crap out of them.

So, how could you not help your colleagues out in a dire situation like this? Those shifts paid more anyway, and you needed all the money you could get. And, to be completely honest, you enjoyed the night. The lack of annoying customers, who’d scream at you for getting their order wrong, not smiling or some other stupid bullshit (whatever it takes to get that glossy paper with the words “20% off”, right?) died down by the night, so it was a breeze. Of course, you’d have to clean up and prep so much stuff for the morning shift, but then again, it was better money. So you could do with stacking some cups and taking out the trash and so on. After closing, you’d walk out a bit tired, but still enjoying the fresh night air, that would knock out any insistent worry straight out of your mind.

And oh, what a fool you were for that.

Ghost wanted to laugh, really. It was very amusing to him when you’d bravely head out into the dark, back to your shitty rundown apartment complex, listening to your music in your silly little headphones and not paying enough attention. Not a fucking thought inside this handsome head sometimes. Just perfect. Ghost knew he liked you for a reason. Which, of course, your appearance wasn’t solely why he felt drawn to you like you were a damn magnet.

At first, he didn’t even notice you. Out and about, searching for any potential victims. Which became harder and harder each time he got bored and finished off the last one – their names fading from his memory as soon as the ringing from their strained, ear-splitting screams died down to a complete silence. They were borderline shrieks of wild, trapped animals that rang in his mind endlessly, day and night, echoes waking him from his restless dreams and lulling him back to sleep. Eyes snapped from figure to figure – searching, looking like a hound dog for something, someone that could satiate his hunger for blood.

Followed a potentially interesting target to a small, cozy-looking establishment. Tried to look around more, still not completely set on the decision to commit to them. But then he laid his eyes on you and felt that familiar buzz under his skin, the pleasant vibrations that spurred him on like a prized stallion during a race. His blood felt scorching hot in his own body, anticipation for the desired thrill of the hunt already boiling in his veins. That’s who he needed.

The huge man would follow you home with light, silent footsteps, uncharacteristic for his burly form. He would observe you from the dark corners of the forest, from between trees bunched together in thick, impenetrable layers. Ghost would come in during different times of the day, but wouldn’t ask for you, in fear of drawing too much attention – your coworkers looked like the types to run their mouths for fun, so he figured they would snitch on him to you. And that would just spoil all the fun, wouldn’t it? But then Ghost started feeling something he never thought he would. The more his eyes went over your form, over and over, like fingers picking at a bloody scab, or a tongue grazing gums where the tooth is missing, the more Ghost felt that ache poke needles through his skin, then change and transform into unfamiliar shapes and forms. Prickling on his insides, thorns gashing and bleeding his heart dry, his mind reeling at the mere sight of you in this stupid uniform, or just going about your business, and not knowing what kind of predator was following close behind in the shadows.

He craved more than your blood, your skin, and your smell on his knife, pooling between his fingers and onto the dirty floor of the basement. Etching scarlet lines into your sole being, slicing, cutting, and handling you like he would a piece of precious wood for his woodcarving projects. Ghost’s mind would go rampant with various images of you being with him. Not a victim, but a companion. A worthy one at that. The one Ghost deserves, with your presences intertwining until you two could not be separated from one another, grown together so deeply that you’d find parts of yourselves in each other wherever you’d look.

The only wish Ghost had was to be consumed by you wholly. And to consume you was a natural outcome of that. You’ll come around eventually. One way or another.

The images of his previous trophies resurfaced like thin, melting ice from fresh lake water. Each and every single one of them was an animal. In their life and their death. Scared but swift rabbits. Talkative crows that liked shiny things. Rabid hyenas that bared their teeth at him in a taunting grin. Gorgeous pheasants with their gentle coos. All of them so different, yet same in their dullness and lack of something Ghost was searching for in his prey.

You though, you were special. That’s why Ghost didn’t want to kill you, oh no. He wanted to keep you. All to himself. Lock you up like a wild bird in a golden, intricate cage and hear you sing lullabies and arias for him, and only him. Not for your stupid friends. Not for your idiot classmates. And not for your lazy ass coworkers. Only for him.

So naturally if he wanted this songbird to be his, he had to get to work. Simon was a man of his words and actions, but Ghost preferred to act, rather than talk. First things first – he had to prepare a “cage”. One where you won’t escape from. One that will keep you safe from any harm. But not from him. He’d never harm you, in a million years. Ghost had to rearrange a room in the basement for that. And while it took some time and care, his feelings only grew stronger, when he would move and carry around so much stuff he had piling up in that dusty room. Then he had to know your schedule by heart, to know when and where he’ll be able to finally get his hands on the beloved songbird. It turned out to be pretty easy, Ghost got it down in a week and everything was working out perfectly. Finally, he had to catch you. Which, he was working on right now.

He waited until the perfect moment came to strike, like a hunter he was. One chance, that’s all it is going to take. And you’ll be his. His gut stirred with anticipation and excitement, that familiar buzz intensifying with each second, he waited to finally start his pursuit while hiding in the darkness. If it was anyone else but you the chase would’ve been lethal. For you, he had to contain his strength. Balling his fists together, beaten and bloody under the rough fabric of his gloves, he could easily snap a neck or break some fingers with the sheer power contained inside of his body, trained and adapted into the perfect shape for his…line of work and “hobbies”. For your sake, Ghost will have to use less force, for once in a long time. You’re only worthy while you’re alive.

The whole shift you felt like something was wrong. That sudden gut feeling, along with impending doom and anxiety that ate away at you was overtaking slowly but surely. Every second ticking away on the digital clock near the register only stretched that unusual, weird feeling like something (you weren’t sure what) was going to happen to you. You even felt a bit of cold sweat pop up right on your forehead, and the worst thing is, you couldn’t even point out what exactly threw you off your usual rhythm. So, all you had left to do was try to pretend like there wasn’t a whole hurricane of worry and panic bubbling inside of you.

You felt like you could snap any minute now from how tense you were. Intuition wasn’t your best suit, but you could not ignore a gut feeling so strong that you felt like vomiting up your lunch each time you were left in silence, alone with your thoughts, that spun around a variety of outcomes where you ended up dead on the side of the road because you didn’t listen to that gnawing dread curled inside your gut.

And you should’ve, really.

Maybe then you wouldn’t have been in the position that you’re in right now. Your chest and throat hurt, cold air burning with every shallow and quick inhale, as you ran, as fast as you could, blood pulsing in your ears with increasing pressure. You were pretty sure your heart was about to jump out of your chest. If it wasn’t for your headphones running out of battery and you having to walk back without any music you wouldn’t have heard the quiet, rapidly approaching footsteps. You couldn’t see your pursuer, too focused on the road, or lack thereof in front of you.

Why did you think dipping into the dark grove at the first opportunity to lose the person who was following you was a good idea? Your feet stumbled over the thick roots that webbed the fresh, wet ground, moonlight barely managed to pierce through the thick layer of leaves overhead and it seemed like any animal in your close vicinity disappeared, with how eerily quiet everything was, safe for your heaving and wheezing, that easily gave away your position.

You’re scared, oh, you’re so fucking scared you could feel the way hairs all over your body stand up from the terror, unknown follower sparkling fear so primal your thoughts are reduced to barely a semblance of your usual self.

You could hear the crunch of the leaves under your shoes, vines, and branches smacking you, as you ram through them in your attempt to get away, to save yourself from whatever wild beast was chasing you, whose heavy breath you could almost feel on the nape of your neck. You were pretty sure your face got smacked by another thorny vine, this time delivering a harsh, stinging cut that made you wince. You didn’t slow down, however, adrenaline made you push yourself to surprising lengths, that you didn’t think were possible in a normal, safe environment. The cut felt warm. You were pretty sure it started bleeding.

That is until your foot slips and you feel everything going upside down, crashing onto you, sharp pain digging into your sides, as you tumble down. And from water in your nose, eyes, and airway, you can give a wild guess that you fell into some kind of creek. If it’s true, then your clothes and your backpack are most likely busted. You try to get up, but your hands slide over slick, wet rocks on the bottom of the stream, making you slip back into the water and sending you into a whole coughing fit, bitter water resting on your tongue like a layer of algae. You yank your foot from under some rock, desperately trying to listen to the footsteps that at the moment were as loud as hell’s bells for you, stumbling to your feet, and through the thick darkness, you see that the path ahead will only be uphill. The ground is wet and muddy, but you don’t care, hands and nails digging into it, crawling upwards as fast as you can. You feel yourself grow cold when you hear a quiet slide and feel a hand grab you by your leg.

And then you start kicking, screaming, howling until a bitter burn on your throat makes you cough, spreading the sharp pain with every collapse of your chest. Fingers digging into the fresh mud and leaves, raking through them, earth sticking to the underside of your nails, as you try to grapple onto something, anything, to hold onto and save yourself from the iron hold on your ankle. Your heart is beating so fast you can hear it pumping the blood through every single artery and vein, and you’re sure that animalistic fear is being spread through your body along with it.

“Sing for me, boy. Nobody will hear you.” The man’s voice, devoid of emotions, littered with deep sighs and grunts of exertion rumbled from above you, as he dragged you down from the insignificant height you managed to climb.

“Fuck off! Let go of me!” You scream, your body contorted into a bizarre shape as you turn your head, trying to catch a glimpse of the man and correct the aim of your kicks. Your neck was weeping in pain and strain, along with every other muscle in your body. Fear scorched your insides. This was it for you, truly. Nobody will find your body in this stupid fucking forest and you’re just going to become the food for local fauna. Beautiful.

You expected anything – harsh blows to the back of your head, being drowned inside this shallow creek, stabbed to death, until you paint the water red, getting your head bashed in, or even shot like a rabid, stray dog who had no one to care for it. Instead, you’re getting your hands and legs tied together, and the man throws you over his shoulder, despite your attempts to scratch or punch him. You scream and cry, burning your throat raw, kicking and writing in the hold of the unknown person. Chanting harsh insults, and trying to kick or punch didn’t work either, but you didn’t care. You weren’t about to find out more about the local serial killer. However, no matter your intentions, you could not see where you were going, dark earth being the only thing in front of your eyes. Your thoughts and presence float far away from here, as the man brings you somewhere, jabbing a needle with something that makes you light-headed and sleepy.

When you finally wake up you’re changed from your dirt-stained, wet clothes, with your body aching like no tomorrow and the cut on your face dressed. The room has barely any light in it, and you feel the warm covers enveloping you, reminding you of home until you turn your head and see…something. Someone. His presence is enough to send shivers through your body.

He’s sitting by the bed you’re tucked into. Skull mask. Large, looming figure. Dark eyes gleaming right at you. You feel your face contorting into an angry scowl when you look at him and try to get out of bed. He doesn’t move. You get yanked back, and promptly turn your head again, feeling the muscles in your back and neck ache. Your hand is cuffed to the radiator. You feel a rough lump in your throat rise and drowsiness floating away. It doesn’t quite sink in yet, but you could feel the anxiety forming once again in the pit of your stomach and that lump rising as if you’re about to vomit whatever was left of your insides.

You hear the man get up from his chair with a quiet shuffle and the squeak of the chair legs on the floorboards. You flinch back, your back pressing into the warm metal of the radiator, almost burning the skin through your clothes. The bed dips down under the weight of the man. He’s not taking away his eyes from you, even for a second. It makes you want to crawl under the blanket that is now resting at your feet, just to hide from the piercing, heated gaze that you want to avoid at any cost.

You close your eyes, trying to calm down and think about anything else, but what surrounded you. Which proved impossible the moment you felt a rough, calloused hand shift from its position on the bed and rest on the side of your face. Warm, scorching fingers stroking your cheek gently, like that same hand wasn’t just dragging you through water and muck in the shallow forest creek.

Ghost felt…Good. Despite the bad first impression, he was sure that he was on the right track. Your skin felt divine, your beautiful eyes made him want to keep you here forever and never let go. And the way you looked while sleeping made him want to abandon observing altogether and crawl into the bed with you, caging in a tight, bone-crushing embrace that would show you just how much he craves you. But for you, it would probably be too fast, too shocking. For now, just being able to look at you and touch you was enough.

Maybe, if Ghost had a little more bravery he would whisper:

“You’re mine, songbird. Forever”

But for now, it’ll do. You’ll come around. One way or another.

check out my masterlist for more fics or send me a request/comment!

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macabreroni · 2 months ago

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review i read on the offical ultrakill gabriel bodypillow

”

Laura T.

I am said friend who is delusional. Gabriel helped me through a breakup.

“I spent 3 years of my life chasing after a man, thinking he was the one. One day said man decided to break up with me. I was absolutely so distraught and falling back into him in the beginning all the time, I thought I couldn't live without my boyfriend. I was no stranger to Gabriel at the time of my breakup, but it never crossed my mind to obtain a body pillow of him. My lovely friend Charlie decided that providing the angel into my possession would boost my morale. As Charlie bought me this cover and the body pillow, I didn't think it would do all that much for me. I hid him from my parents, being embarrassed that I'd have a body pillow in my bed. To my surprise, upon his arrival everyone loved him. My cat lays near him and he is always included in every conversation I have at my bed. Upon being entertaining, Gabriel has a bunch of other qualities that I like. Gabriel is very soft and cold, perfect for when you overheat in your bed. Gabriel is also the perfect husband and friend. He will never yell at you for showing him a stupid TikTok. He never complains every either, which is wonderful. When you cry on him he will be there for you and let him lean on you. My only complaint is that he doesn't support me financially but I guess him being an angel makes up for him. I wouldn't expect Gabriel to be able to hold a 9 to 5 job anyway. Other than that, Gabriel has been a wonderful and healthy boyfriend/husband. He genuinely loves me more than my ex boyfriend did. Even through a screen, when I didn't have my pillow he would pay attention to me more than any ex boyfriend did. The best part and the most distinct part about this Gabriel pillow is how comfortable he is to cuddle. At night, I used to make my ex boyfriend sleep on call with me because I had absolutely horrible and soul crushing anxiety. Some days I would stay up for 48 hours because of how I couldn't sleep. genuinely one of the first thoughts I had when he broke up with me was about what I was gonna do when I had to go to sleep. The moment I laid my head on Gabriel's chest I passed out, I'm not even joking. Gabriel was so comfortable that he fixed my dependency on people to sleep with me on call. Gabriel is big enough to simulate another person being in your bed, which is exactly what I needed in my dire times. Not only that, when sleeping Gabriel has 2 sides. "Sexy" and "Protective". When sleeping on the side of protection I genuinely felt all of the paranoia that I have been harboring from my 18 years of living instantly disappear. He is genuinely one of the best things to cross my life to be honest. If I was in possession of Gabriel a year and a half sooner I think I would have broken up with my boyfriend because of how well Gabriel has treated me. I cannot believe that Gabriel was more accepted into my family than an entire human being. Although he can't speak to me, I can feel the love radiating from him. The only complaint I have about this body pillow is that when I was trying to stuff the pillow inside Gabriel, the seam ripped. Although this happened and there was a bunch of popping and ripping noises coming from Gabriel while I wrestled with him to get him to fit around the pillow, he fit in and the seam ripping isn't noticeable. The busted seam doesn't interfere with Gabriel whatsoever and he is very durable to throw around and move. Though be prepared to spend a lot of time wrestling to get him in like I did, that was an entire workout. Other than that, Gabriel is perfect. I would buy this body pillow for all of your loved ones that you hold nearest and dearest to your heart. Gabriel is the perfect gift for anybody who loves him. The more I think about it, the more I realize why my boyfriend would not buy this for me. I think he was afraid of losing the competition.

It's honestly so sad that you do below the minimum amount of effort a lifeless body pillow does. I have not felt the urge to talk to my ex since I have gotten my body pillow of Gabriel, which is absolutely amazing because I fold so bad. Gabriel has singlehandedly ceased my tears for my ex, and the tears that fell because of this man Gabriel caught them and comforted me. I have never felt so emotionally stable in a breakup, and it's all cause of Gabriel. I don't think I'll ever find a man to hold me like Gabriel does. I am in debt to the person who bestowed upon me this wonderous body pillow and I am in debt to the person who came up with this lustrous design. I have never felt happier in my life knowing that there is an angel to watch over me. For the low price of 50 dollars you could too experience the joy that I have been nonstop experiencing. I don't think $50 is enough for the joy that I have experienced. Some people say that money can't buy happiness, but money did buy happiness. I am convinced that if this body pillow could, it would cure cancer. Not only that but my hormone deficiency fixed itself within a week of Gabriel arriving at my doorstep. 5/5 stars, thank you!”

#wow #this is amazing #ultrakill gabriel #gabriel ultrakill #also gabriel ultrakill

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petrova121 · 5 months ago

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Leave your worries at the door….please and thank you!

“Be careful”

-Part 1 -Part 2

TW-violence, threats, smut, fights, blood,etc

Song-Back to black by Amy Winehouse

Enemies to lovers

𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁

- Klaus needs help getting a witch on his side for the purpose of wolfsbane, which was running low. The best idea coming into mind bringing along Elijah as ... .a form of reinforcement.but things do always take there turns

-Hey guys just a btw I’m still new to all this stuff so bear with me!

At least to say she did not sleep well that night, the rain was pounding. Her dressing room walls for a matter of fact weren’t helping. The cheap wooden material the walls were made out of was sure to break sooner or later, she was sure of it. “God damn Mikaelsons” she muttered tired and her eyes fell into a dump slumber.

In the little makeshift club, Klaus played poker with the owner, his old friend Smith. Smith had known Klaus back in the late 30s, after Klaus had turned him, taking pity on the old man in the state he was in. “So back to cause trouble eh?”Smith said putting down his cards to show a full house a full house. Klaus laughed a little, “No, no ... .well maybe but I’ll be forward with you, I am in dire need of more information about your little witch sensation Y/n” Klaus said still acting to consider putting his cards down. Smith smirked, he was sure he had won the game when he saw Klaus hesitate, he did win, Klaus had two cards and lost.

“Well, what about her? She's a show-stopping natural who gets my money flowing in” Smith said shrugging and glancing over to Elijah who was watching the storm outside from the small window but still intently listening.

“How did she end up working here? To what degree is her power as a witch? Most importantly how are we to trust she has a good flow ... .of wolfsbane” Elijah said his voice carrying out through the dimly lit room. Smith scoffed, in his mind, Y/n was nothing more than a girl who had a few connections and could do a couple of tricks with her magic but he did enough a lot about her past.

“Where to start, she left home when she high school finished early and didn't want a part of her father's life anymore even though she loved him, her father was a hunter. hunted vampires, werewolves, and even witches he deemed a threat. Her father had this moral code, or more like a stick up his ass” Smith said, grabbing a couple more hundred and throwing them on the table. “I think you two would get along Elijah,” Klaus said smirking, digging in his wallet for more to gamble on. He could always get more anyway. Elijah internally gave the biggest eye roll. “As for Y/n she had a knack for dancing and singing I let her join. Well for her dear father his moral code got him much respect, you would know a lot about that noble ass but...unlike you, he wasn't immortal. Unfortunately, he met his match. That was for sure the man well ... had a bloody end and I mean that in every way possible.” Smith said, shaking his head, his eyes full of pity. “That young woman, the witch you are currently preying on, was left with a very broken heart, her father was everything to her and he left her with everything. The house, the weapons he left behind, and loads of vervain and wolfsbane. But I suppose you could say she also has a sense of moral code drawn from fear. She stays away from all these things related to the supernatural world afraid she will meet the same end as her father. As for her power, she isn't the most skilled and does know a few things here and there to make sure she's safe ”Smith said and put down another full house beating Klaus again. A wide grin went across the old man's face, he loved winning. “There's more to the story but I wouldn't know she doesn't talk as much as I am making her to be,” Smith said, grabbing the cash he won, and stuffing it into a jar. Klaus didn’t care much about her backstory or the fact he lost about a thousand dollars to this stingy man. he needed to know her weak points and he could later on use her father against her Klaus hoped.

Elijah listened to the revelation, a flicker of pity went across his face for the woman, it outshined his annoyance a bit.Although Elijah knew that his brother would use this against her, he knew it was necessary. “How long since the man’s death?” Elijah asked, turning to look at both of them. Smith thought about it for a second tapping a finger to his chin. “6 years ago” Smith said, getting his cane. Fair enough time for her to process it, but yet again everyone was different Elijah thought. It wasn't enough to truly feel bad for her though, she was just another witch, right?

The next few days Y/n was on edge and didn’t know how she was going to get back home. Her fears were too strong to go alone. She couldn’t do it; she needed someone but everyone she called was picking up so she resorted to asking her boss, Smith. Back years ago he had helped intentionally to pack up some things and he wasn't the best person ever but she could deal with it she told herself. After the performance, she went to his back office. Which smells worse than the place itself. He was sitting counting the money he made from that night putting it in 15 different piles for the 15 different performers. “What” he said, his voice gruff.

“I’m assuming that hybrid tyrant came and spoke with you,” She said. She entered the room fully and closed the door. “He did, what about it?” Smith said, his eyes not once daring to get a glance up. “I need to ask a favor. I need someone to go up with me to my father's old estate, I can't go alone, I was praying that you could,” She said. There was a shear of uncertainty in her voice, she could almost feel the no coming out of his mouth.

“Not a chance,” He said, annoyed. “I don't have time and with you going on leave for a week I need to find someone to replace your ass, you think I'm just up and available just cause a vampire is threatening your life? Get.in.line his presence is threatening everyone” Smith said annoyed and maybe even pissed off. She frowned, she knew he was a rude old man, what more could she expect? “Then who the hell am I to ask?” she said

“Not my problem”

“It is your problem because he isn't just going to kill me he's going to kill you too if he realizes you didn’t help me” She spat back at him.

He finally looked up, he looked lifeless in his eyes. She could tell his jaw was clenching.

“Fine” he gritted out.“Talk to his brother, the noble guy”

An even bigger frown grew on her face. Elijah, she didn’t like him and she sure as hell if she had any other choice was going to spend a total of 7 hours back and forth from her dad's house. Maybe she hated his power, maybe his stupidly attractive face but it didn't matter.

She let out a breath she didn’t know she was holding after a long moment of silence

“Where can I find him?” she asked.

“You familiar with the French Quarter?” he asked, leaning back in his seat. “Great,” she thought to herself. This family was more of a pain in her ass than she could think, from where the club was it was a good 20-minute drive. “Yes,” she said annoyed

“There's a bar right across from it, you’ll catch him there around 7..and if you're lucky, maybe even 6:30!” he said with fake enthusiasm, and then within seconds a huge frown

“Get out!”

She left and slammed his door shut with anger. The next following days she was now packing her bags and getting ready to confront the man who had his head way too far up his ass. “Where are you heading off to?” Rory said. She was leaning on Y/n’s door frame as she caught her packing up.

“What's it to you?” she said

“Well, you seemed mad when you left Smith's office the other day can’t help but think, are you finally fired?” Rory asked, a big smirk plastered on her face. Y/n was annoyed, of course, Rory wanted her fired, and then her competition would be gone. “Never knew you were this greedy Rory, and here I thought you just suck off the audience for more cash and I mean that in every SENSE,” Y/n said getting her last bag and turning around with a neutral face

“Whatever you say, your time is running up and I'm not the only one who knows that,” Rory said, her smirk not flattering. It was clear that Rory knew something that she didn’t. Was Y/n going to get fired? Did she hear the Mikaelsons talking to her? All questions that Y/n quickly kicked out of her head. She had one goal right now, it was not to entertain Rory and her endless shenanigans.

══════════

After basically speeding her way through the streets she made it back to the heart of New Orleans. She quickly parked and got out rushing to make sure she wouldn’t miss the original. Like Smith said he was in a corner drinking some fancy drink. Elijah had seen her before she even walked in. He was curious to see what she wanted. “Well Mr.Mikaelson unfortunately we have to meet again,” She said sitting across from him. “What do I owe for pleasure?” He said putting the drink down, licking his lips slightly from the remains of the liquor. “Your brother is desperate for Wolfsbane right or did I miss it when my life was threatened?” she said, clamping her hands together. She was giving him a pointed look which amused him further.

“Well yes, he is, now why are you here? I am going to make this clear. I am not one for negotiations, miss Y/l/n” Elijah said, his voice firm. Elijah stared right at her. He didn’t like how unreliable she was being at the moment, and it was causing him to think twice about why he even gave her his word. He also couldn't ignore the fact he would talk about bargaining with her for how undeniably gorgeous she looked at the moment. “I’m here to ask if you will come with me to my house,” She said getting to the point. She was already pretty nervous about it but put on a brave face. Elijah smirked, finding his entryway into a little teasing and fun.

“So straight forward” Elijah teased. Y/n realized what he was insinuating and got annoyed, like very annoyed. It was shown all over her face. Of course this man of cocky enough to assume that.

“No, I don't want you 6 feet near me or my bed if I had a choice by “my house ". I mean my dad's old home, that's where the wolfsbane is and I can't go alone. Let's just say my dad had a lot of enemies that didn’t like him and naturally they don't like me.” She explained to him lying through her teeth. Her dad probably killed every single enemy he had before he met his fate.

“Bold of you to assume what's what I meant,” Elijah said, the smirk growing wider.

“But I do have to ask why me? Don’t you have someone else?” Elijah asked, and this time he was sincere about it. He knew she was lying but decided not to tell her yet. He wanted to see how this would play out but from her point of view, it still looked like by his face he was playing with her. She couldn’t decide between smacking him or kissing him, out of anger.

“Because I have no one else I can trust at this moment and let's just say the person I did go to gave me what he says is a wake-up call,” She said and sighed “Will you do it or not?” She asked. Elijah looked at her, in his mind he was thinking of all the ways this little witch could surely stab him in the back, and take advantage of the situation but on the other hand, he could do the same to her. “How far is the drive?” he asked, tapping his finger on the glass.

“7 hours back and forth,” she said. Not too bad” Elijah thought, though the car ride could go two ways. She could be a pain in the ass or just quiet. He was hoping for quiet. “Well, I suppose I can dwell on it, how about this if I decide to go with you I'll be here tomorrow at 6 in the morning waiting outside this very bar. ” He said, leaning in his chair. "What do you mean to dwell on it?" she asked. "I mean think about it, it might not have occurred to you but I have responsibilities waiting for me, and the person that needs my most protection at the moment," Elijah said, he hadn't forgotten about Hayley for a moment. "Ohh, I get it you're looking after that girl who's carrying the miracle baby," Y/n said it all coming together. "Why? she's not your responsibility."She said, now crossing her arms. Elijah's eyes narrowed slightly. "She is, I made it my duty," Elijah said, getting another sip of the drink. "Why are-" she cut herself off. She didn't want to know why, she didn't need to know either. "Fine, think about it if you will," she said, slightly mocking his accent and getting up. He then did the same and straightened his cuffs to the suit. She got up to leave and he grabbed her wrist right before. “Do let me make one thing clear with you, I am being very cooperative at the moment. I wouldn’t see this type of mercy from my brother. I do encourage you not to try playing any games with me when it comes to well-being if I do go on this little trip of yours because it won’t be good for you” Elijah warned stepping closer to her. Her heart was starting to pound. “I can’t even put a scratch on you. How stupid do you think I am?” she asked in a hushed tone. She could see a few eyes from the bar staring at them. “You’d be amazed at how many idiots walk this earth,” Elijah said smugly. He let go of her, letting her get her bag.

“6 AM, I won't be late. I hope you do show up,” she gritted through her teeth. turning around and walking away out of the bar. Elijah got up and followed her. It felt like freedom when she took in the fresh cold air outside. Until she realized he was behind her. “And I am most certain we will meet again” Elijah said behind her and when she turned to look he was gone. She cursed under her breath and walked off.

“Be careful” she could hear whispering as she was walking but no one was there. She knew it wasn’t Elijah, it was those goddamn ancestors

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peachy-wolfhard · 1 year ago

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Dating Leo II

a/n: I wanted to add more after I posted part one so here it is Bone Apple Teeth, I love leo sm so its LONG

Let me know if you would like to be on my tmnt taglist!

Warnings: swearing, grandchildren mention (splinter is gonna splinter), illness mention, insomnia, mentions of slapping leos bald head

Word count: 738 -woof

Insomnia gang

This turtle physically cannot sleep

When you don't spend the night he is CONSTANTLY texting you everything that comes to mind

“y/n…why is pizza a circle?” “idk lee can i come over :3” “yeth pls HURRY IM DYING HERE WITHOUT U”

Lying in his bed, cuddling, matching eyemasks ON, fan ON

Even with all of that, nothing works

The nights that the both of you are actually able to sleep he has a grasp on you

Holds you so close to him all the time, you guys are joined at the hip

Everyone besides Mikey and Splinter thinks you guys are gross

“You can't even say their names apart now it's ALWAYS Leo and y/n. You can't separate them they will DIE without each other”

“Calm down Mikey please you're scaring Shelldon”

Splinter is…well Splinter. He stays in your guys' relationship, with how dramatic you guys are he doesn't need his soaps

He loves to show you baby pictures of the boys esp the ones of Leo

((cough cough he definitely mentions grandchildren like the old man he is))

Bites all the time like anytime anywhere

Making breakfast peacefully listening to music- CHOMP

Getting ready for work- CHOMP

Dr. Delicate Touch has to intervene

Play fights with you in slow-motion

(slow motion voice) “yyy/nnn iiiimm goooinggg tooo kick your aaaasssss”

(also slow motion voice) “im gooonnnaaa kick yours firrrst”

HAND! HOLDING!

Initially, it started as a way to keep Leo from running off when exploring places, but then it turned into a regular thing

“My love, light of my life, future spouse eHEM!”

“What Leo”

“WHERE’S YOUR HAND I AM GOING TO DIE WITHOUT YOUR HAND IN MINE!! I ALREADY FEEL WEAK PLEASE I AM SUFFERING”

Absolute drama queen and don't get me started when he’s sick

Picture those old paintings of the sick children in bed, he’s that but dialed up to eleven

All he wants is cuddles and daytime television and don't you DARE come in between him and his Maury

Giving him medicine is surprisingly easy maybe it’s because he’s so out of it or maybe he’s just in love he’d let you do anything to him

But if you’re ever sick he does the exact same for you

If you fight medicine (just like me fr) he’s NOT afraid to use those ninja moves to get you to take your meds

Loves it when you read to him no matter what you are reading

Manga? Sign him up! Horror book? Let's get spooky! Sad book? I'll get the tissues! He just loves to hear your voice especially if you do different voices for the characters but not overly comedic voices, he’s here for the story!

Falls asleep listening to your voice with his head on your lap 99% of the time

Going to the Hidden City for date nights and getting up to absolute mischief

(having to then call Raph to come get you guys because you pissed someone off and just kicked their butt)

Speaking of the Hidden City! During their break in the Hidden City (when everyone gets arrested) you join Leo at the spa

After he gets kicked out he BEGS you to go to the creepy spa across the street with him

“Sorry sweetheart I too am in DIRE need of some relaxation plus it’s not often I’m in an exclusive club”

The moment he shows up with that gorgeous hair you’re suspicious

Texts you a selfie of his new hair with the creepy ass background

“Whatcha think? Even more handsome than normal? ;)” “go back to being bald i miss slapping ur bald head :(“

Anyway when he starts “sleepwalking” your immediate reaction is “Maybe it's the wig” but quickly forget all about it due to relaxation

“Um… yyyy/nnnn could you please help me out with one teeny tiny situation…? Please?”

Now you and Leo are on the case!

“Ooo lala finally some privacy ;)”

“Don't touch me until you’re bald AND we figure this out”

“Pwetty pwease? JUST ONE!”

“Fine, ONE kiss”

After the evil hair reveal and fighting with your boyfriend’s hair he's finally bald again

Leo explains the massage guy’s deal but it falls on deaf ears

“Hey, who’s that guy?” “He'sthe non-member we kicked out earlier!”

“I bet he and that human are the thieves. Call the cops”

After a quick stay in jail, you’re now peacefully back home

#rottmnt x reader #rottmnt leo x reader #tmnt x reader #rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles x reader #rise leo #rise leo x reader #rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles #leo x reader #masterlist

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sunthyme · 11 months ago

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Ah... welcome to another instalment of my headcanons. I lowkey lied again but I think my prefect will be the last of the headcanons to come out. Tyty for all the love, as always, and now...

🪶The NRC Staff🪶

Trying to find characters I hadn't already twisted for my student ocs to make my staff ones was such a pain 😭😭😭 but here they are!!

🐦‍⬛Dire Crowley🐦‍⬛

(he/it) - Bisexual

The most USELESS HEADMASTER EVER!!! God, I know his SSR card looks great but I won't pull for it istg this bitch. We could have had Sam or Crewel but nooooo...

- I wanted him to look a bit older but since we don't know his age, I didn't push it too much. No spoilers for book 7 but I assume he's probably fae or smth idk.

- You'll notice I honestly didn't change much about the staff in general but I do like most of their design already. Kept his sclera dark cause it looked cool and made the gold eyes pop.

- He talks in a weird mix of old language that literally no one uses, like hella old-fashioned, and poorly used teen lingo. He's trying... A for effort, ig.

- His house and office are super cluttered with a ton of stuff he's found throughout the years but knows exactly where things are. His memory's actually incredibly good, he's just lazy. He likes to collect teaspoons.

- Later in the story, when he starts kinda view the prefect as his kid of sorts, it starts dropping off little trinkets at Ramshackle. Various things from old photos to books with old annotations to pretty rocks. He just wants the prefect to make the dorm 'more homey'.

- I'll get into this more with my prefect design but when Crowley attended NRC (in my headcanon idk if he actually did), he was a Ramshackle student. As such, my MC is using his old uniform as he didn't have any extra ones.

- He really likes cats but they just fcuking hate him. Lucius hisses everything he see Crowley. This is why he cries himself to sleep.

Enough of my dead-beat dad, onto the good dad!

🐕Divus Crewel🐕

(he/they) Transmasc - Panasexual

The good father-figure!! I love Crewel. Also, ignore me misspelling his name in the big one, I thought it had two 'l's...

- He is my Mexican father. Idk they give like simultaneously abuelita and Mexican mom vibes and I am so here for it. (Apparently also Jewish grandma vibes according to @thearchiveofalexandria but I wouldn't know lol).

- I also think he'd be older, like late 40s/early 50s but because of those anti-ageing Mexican genes, they look like 30. (Literally, my mom gets mistaken for being that young, she's in her 50s) Gave him some gray hair at the back but don't be fooled, that's just from putting up with Crowley's bullshit. The shit that goes down in-game for sure results in a couple grey hairs for poor Crewel.

- Is the father figure I never knew I needed, well, my prefect anyway. I know my MC would go to him for anything ranging from 'Crowley's threatening to cut off my water supply!' to 'Can you help me make a Halloween costume?' and his ass always helps. Stan Papa Crewel.

Oh god, this next one was HELL ON EARTH I hate drawing masculine men...

🏈Ashton Vargas🏈

(he/him) - Heterosexual

God, I hate Vargas' og design. The worst part is it does it's job, I couldn't find much to change. Also, didn't even know he had a first name lmaooo.

- I gave him more of a beard because it looked so fcuking bad without it ong 😭😭😭 I hated this... that's pretty much all I did.

- That being said, I do think Vargas wants the best for his students. Wait. Dad-bod Vargas. Guys, I just had an epiphany.

- He's got a wife, kids in like elementary school, and like two dogs idk. I feel like he's older thirties. He's giving total family man and likes to cheer on his students like they're his kids too.

- I feel like he's got mad ADHD and it's one of the reasons he became a gym teacher, just to be constantly moving and doing stuff.

My opinion of Vargas has increased while writing this. Onto my funky uncle...

🏷️Sam Cecil🏷️

(he/they/it) Genderqueer - Asexual Aromantic

I LOVE SAM!!📢📢

- They're like mid-twenties, I don't know if they went to college but if they did, they were a business major. I gave him a last name too, idk the fact that he didn't have one made me mad. Cecil cause Dr. Facilier had a daughter named Cecilia apparently.

- I tossed in a couple more piercings and I love the idea that he has tattoos too.

- He's like the fun uncle that occasionally sponsor your weird ideas. Wanna make cookies at 3am? His store's still open. Need some Nerf guns? He's got 'em. If he says it's in stock, he will literally have anything. Don't ask, he won't answer you anyway.

- Also has crazy good like and low-key knows the future but typically drops hints in a joking manner. He's also very good at communing with the dead, sales for sessions are discounted in October.

- Incredibly rich. Probably canon given his store branches and the crazy shit he has in his shop but I felt the need to reaffirm it.

- Also supplies Ramshackle with snacks and groceries. My MC works at its shop part time in return but I firmly believe that it'd refuse to let the MC starve.

Now for the gramps,

📚Mozus Trein📚

(he/him) Transmasc - Heterosexual

- Trans old man, idk. He is to me. Also, he's both the history and literature teacher.

- Also changed pretty much nothing lol, he's just an old trans man whose sick of Crowley's bullshit (you'll notice a running theme).

- All the grandpa memes and stereotypes are so true for him. His drinks tea every afternoon, plays chess with Crewel (that's canon btw), and squints whenever you try to show him something, especially on a phone.

- He uses a flip phone mobile-y but his house has a rotary one. His daughters keep telling him to replace it but he refuses, saying modern one are too complicated. His daughters also went to Royal Blade as he originally worked there before recently transferring to NRC.

- Hates pumpkin-flavoured anything so doesn't care much for fall. Winter is his favourite season though as he loves sitting with Lucius by the window on snowy days and reading. Very academiacore, gramps.

- He totally advocated for NRC to allow students to use preferred names.

Onto the ocs!!

🪐Mèng yáo Yuan🪐

(she/they/it) Agender - Biromantic Demisexual

- First up is Mèng yáo, twisted from the Horned King from The Black Cauldron. Never seen it personally but @thearchiveofalexandria has and recommended I use its villain.

- She's Chinese and a fae of sorts so she's likely quite old, though she looks in her twenties.

- She's the astrology and philosophy teacher because I thought it would make for a good course since it's mentioned in passing in Book 4.

- She's also skilled in potionology and she and Crewel test out potions for Crewel to teach in class. She is intrigued by the concept of immortality but it's more of a passive study for her.

- She's really bad at getting jokes, though she tries. She's generally not too familiar with modern human concepts but does her best to learn.

Finally,

💎Kore Gorgon💎

(she/her) - Sapphic

- Kore is based on Madame Medusa from The Rescuers, which, fair warning, I ALSO haven't seen. I really needed villains though lol. I read the wiki page and prayed tbh.

- She's around her mid-fifties and is the Math and Physics teacher. She works to integrate known magical physics with standard math and physics and teaches such.

- Her wife is named Crystal (based on an inspo character for Madame Medusa) and they're Kyra's adoptive parents. This is a small nod to Madame Medusa having two pet crocodiles. Kyra kept her parent's names as a sort of way to remember them but likes her adoptive moms a lot too.

- Kore's name is a reference to another name for Persephone and is associated with not only 'the maiden' with the underworld as well.

- She loves shiny things and adores being dressed to the nines all the time. She has a small collect of pretty rocks and tends to decorate her classroom with various trinkets.

- She and Crewel get along super well as their personalities are rather similar. (Fun fact: Madame Medusa not only was heavily inspired by Cruella De Vil, but also served as an origin for Ursula's design.)

- She has bipolar disorder and does her best to work around it, sometimes having pre-recorded lectures if she's not able to be in person.

I'll be sharing my designs for some side and family characters tomorrow so stay tuned! Love y'all!🩷🩷🩷

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tootoomanycats · 7 months ago

Text

PERFORMANCES: Chapter 1 -The Storm of The Century

Summary: In the wake of a historic hurricane raging across the treacherous waters of the East Blue and Grand Line, islands and their resilient inhabitants must either adapt or flee to ensure survival. Sleep Haven, a once-tranquil oasis, now finds itself shattered by the merciless storm. What took years to build and nurture with your own hands lies in ruins, demolished in mere hours. What should have been a fleeting tempest stretched into endless months of devastation. With little left but dwindling supplies and scant funds, you and your fellow islanders embarked on a desperate flight for survival. In your hour of dire need, you reached out to a mysterious benefactor whose aid came at a staggering price. The cost: to divert the attention of the clownish "Leader" of the Cross Guild. As events unfold on BariBari Island, amidst schemes and dangers, you find yourself grappling with emotions long suppressed. Is your interaction with the clown merely a facade, or is it awakening something you've denied yourself for years? Will the repercussions of this precarious pact only affect the flamboyant clown, or will it unravel the last vestiges of your guarded heart as well? The storm may have ravaged Sleep Haven, but the true tempest now brews within your soul and the choices you are forced to make.

Warnings for THIS chapter: None

Performances Master List

Pairings: Buggy/Reader

Word Count: 4,417 Words

AO3 Link

Warning for this Story:

Reader is a retired sex worker

Both Buggy/Reader are in their early to late 30's

There will be smut scenes

There will also be cute fluff scenes

Please note that betrayal does happen to Buggy in this and as of right now I still dont know if Buggy will forgive Reader or not.

Switch/Switch sexual dynamics so its really anyones game.

Author Notes: Hello everyone! Please note that this story already has some spicy teasers that can be found on the MASTER LIST. This story was origionally only supposed to be a few smut peices, but its become what will probably be one of the most intense and intricate stories I've ever tried to take a crack at. A few things to note before you should dig into this story. Reader is a fem presenting person and there will be pronouns of She/Her for this story. I am working on stories for nongender presenting works, but for this one it is a designated identiy. Anyway if you like it, please remeber that fanfic writers live off of Likes, Kudos and Comments of encouragment and conversation. Enjoy.

Chapter 1: The Storm of the Century

"Get to the bunker!"

Amidst the cataclysmic wail of the hurricane, screams became echoes lost in the torrent. The quaint island town, once a portrait of tranquility, was now an arsenal of airborne debris, propelled by winds that shrieked at a hundred miles per hour. Mari, a slender blond woman, sprinted through the chaos, clutching a young child to her chest like a precious gem. Her eyes were set on the concrete sanctuary that had morphed into a last haven for the island's residents.

Once safely ensconced inside, her eyes scanned the room in a frenzied dance, landing on face after face, each one not the one she was looking for.

"Where's the Mistress?!"

Silence strangled the air. The group of women inside exchanged worried glances; their faces etched with a mutual dread. Finally, the child's voice broke through the din, its pitch climbing to be heard over the relentless battering of the storm against the shelter's walls.

"She said she was heading to the Ustesse family's place! Their mom is 'bout to have the baby!" A wave of collective gasps swept the room, whispers and murmurs swirling like mini vortexes. "They're gonna be okay, right Mari?" The child clung to her leg, his small face etched with terror, tears cascading down his cheeks.

Bending down to his level, Mari swiped away his tears with the corner of her apron and tenderly swept his disheveled hair from his eyes.

"Don't you worry. I have faith she's hunkered down with our friends. I'll go check on them, okay?"

The child clung to Mari's skirt, his small fingers knotting the fabric tightly until another woman tenderly pried him away and cradled him in her arms. With a resolute nod to the remaining occupants of the makeshift sanctuary, Mari clenched the rustic wood handle of the door, leveraging her entire body weight to wrench it open against the ferocious wind.

Outside, the storm raged on.

Ominous, dark green clouds churned in a frenetic dance, intermittently pierced by jagged bolts of lightning that shot from sky to ground and an encroaching sea line. Amid the apocalyptic landscape, she nearly missed her turn; the familiar road marker had been uprooted, now likely a part of the storm's airborne arsenal. Navigating just ten feet felt like an insurmountable quest as she lunged from one gnarled tree trunk to another, grasping their deeply anchored roots to avoid being swept away, her fingers ached, and the muscle of her palms cramped at the strength needed to hold on. What should have been a brief traverse felt like an agonizing odyssey.

Finally, a welcome sight emerged: the door of the Ustesse residence, peeking timidly from the slope of a small hill. Its unique architecture had rendered it a fortress amid the devastation. With the final sturdy tree and fence line a daunting hundred feet away, Mari resorted to crawling on all fours, her body encrusted with a sludge of mud and saltwater, her hair a tangled net of debris.

Summoning her remaining strength, she rapped on the massive wooden door before leaning into it, a low groan escaping her lips as she exerted herself to budge the door just an inch. Once safely enveloped by the fortress of solid oak, she gave one final heave, sealing the door—and with it, the cacophony of the storm and the haunting screams of the world outside. Silence filled the space, air stale with its humidity from the storm.

Catching her breath and hastily combing her wind-tangled hair from her face, Mari delved deeper into the short corridors of the dwelling. Just as she was about to call out, a gut-wrenching scream echoed from the far reaches of a back bedroom. Without a second thought, Mari charged down the hall, heart pounding.

"Hello? Is everyone alright?!"

A bedroom door burst open, revealing the cherubic faces of two children—twins. The boy’s eyes brimmed with tears, while his sister, a portrait of grave concern, gestured urgently toward the bed. As Mari neared the warm glow of a flickering lamp, her eyes widened at the spectacle before her.

A woman in the throes of labor crouched on all fours, her fingers clenched around the headboard with such force that the wood itself seemed to wail in sympathy. A statuesque figure—her mistress—kneaded the laboring woman’s back, offering rhythmic chants of encouragement between her cries.

"Mistress?" Mari’s voice quivered as her eyes met those of, you, her friend.

"Mari! Oh, bless the gods, you have perfect timing. We need hot water and clean cloth—fast. The twins are too petrified to leave their mother’s side." With graceful, efficient movements, your arms supported the laboring woman, guiding her to sit at the edge of the mattress. "Listen, Hannah," you spoke, tone laced with gentle humor to try and lighten the moment, "I know this isn’t your first time at the rodeo, but with the baby being breech, we need to proceed with the utmost caution. Are you with me?" You watched the mothers body language with worry, the feelings tel-tail signs hidden behind a well practiced smile. The last thing needed was for the poor woman to panic because the person she was depending on couldn't keep it together.

Hannah's face was flushed, a vivid crimson, her hair clinging like wet tendrils to her sweat-drenched forehead. Cheeks puffed rhythmically as she exhaled forcefully, desperate for enough oxygen to ward off fainting. Gripping the mattress's edge with white-knuckled hands, she heeded your guiding words. Meanwhile, Mari stationed herself behind her, soothing her flushed skin with icy rags and murmuring words of encouragement.

"You're doing beautifully. Keep breathing, just like that."

While the intimate tableau of new life being ushered into existence unfolded within the sheltered chamber, the hurricane outside continued its relentless havoc. Hours slipped by like minutes, until finally, the culmination of Hannah's strenuous labor bore fruit—a tiny, newborn life. Arms carefully swaddling the freshly cleaned infant, lips curving into a tender smile as you approached the exhausted mother while whispering.

"Ten fingers and toes—a classic choice."

Exhausted but elated, Hannah chuckled as she cradled her newborn daughter, feeling the infant's minuscule fingers wrapped around her pinky. She looked up at you, her Mistress while reaching for your hand, and planted a reverent kiss on the back of it, before pressing it to her flushed cheek. "Thank you, Mistress Your presence—and Mari’s—made this infinitely more bearable, I think we would have been in big trouble without both of you."

Warmth spread from the hand on the mothers damp cheek, up into your chest and heart before being expressed through a smile that radiated love. Bending down, you bestowed a gentle kiss upon Hannah’s forehead.

"I’ll always do whatever I can to support our little village of misfits."

A sudden cough diverted everyone's attention to Mari, who stood in the doorway of the bedroom. Her eyes were a mix of exhaustion and sorrow, burdened with news she wished she didn't have to relay. "Mistress, there are urgent matters requiring your immediate attention."

The exhaustion from the last few hours gripped your shoulders, sagging them for a brief second at the added weight of remembering the growing storm outside, and the towns precarious condition. You had been called to the home so early, that everyone in town had still been a sleep, even the baker. Something told you that todays dawn of ominous black clouds that had filled the horizon, had turned into a much more worrisome outcome than just the usual tropical depression.

You needed a drink, a stiff one at that.

Something strong enough to not only burn your tongue but also this day away. With what little energy that could be mustered from aching joints and stiff muscles, your spine straightened, with head held high and a stiff upper-lip you nodded before exiting the room, Mari trailing closely behind.

"Thank you, Mari. Any indication of when this storm might subside? I saw some dark clouds on my walk here earlier, but I haven't had a chance to see what its damage is yet." Turning down the hall towards the front of the Ustesse earthen home, the round wooden door and windows stood before you. Windows that faced out to the front of the town came into view, but your brain was having trouble comprehending what it was seeing. Lead filled your feet and forced the once hurried forward momentum you had to stop. The sudden change causing the blond to bump into your lower back, but you didn't budge. Body unable to move at the new and terrifying view in front of where you both stood.

The islands usually calm, crystal clear, blue waters were the backdrop for the small islands only town. It had taken months to bring the supplies for just the first houses foundation, let alone the last three years for the rest of the buildings to be finished at the beginning of this year. Untold hours of sweat, blood and so many tears from your own two hands had been put into creating this safe haven from nothing.

Saliva built in your mouth, a normally wet tongue felt like blooming cotton in its dry texture. The sensation forced the already cord tight muscles in your neck to swallow. A new view showed through the windows glass, one that could only be what clothes perceived of the outside world trapped during the spin cycle of a washing machine. Wind howled by so fast that you were sure you could see bits of earthen chunks being thrown at breakneck speeds. The storms dramatic change of atmospheric pressure caused both window frames to bow and groan, threatening in anguish to break. Thank god you had splurged for the hurricane rated windows this time around.

This home and the bunker had been built as a test, trying to put less financial investment into the usual and expensive construction supplies and more into a sturdier outcome with what was already on hand from the land around them. Building them both into the side of the hill had been the hardest part, but it seemed that the gamble had paid off. You blinked as dust fell from the ceilings boards, realizing that the chunks of earth you had seen were from the homes moss roof.

The home still held up, so far.

How had that storm turned into this so fast? Normally the island had plenty of warning from the weather monitor to prepare. A den-den mushi connected to the stations from the main island, it had guaranteed constant updates and warnings. In the years you had lived here, not once did even a small ‘just in case’ not get sent out. A gut sinking question pushed its way to the front of your mind.

Had the main island been caught off guard by this storm as well?

Mari had stood silent next to you, the top of her head barely reaching your shoulders, her emerald green eyes observed calmly, as a blank expression took the place of a once truly happy smile of her friends face. Years of friendship taught her patience, especially when it came to the time that you needed when processing information. She stood in worry at the events outside, but also in confidence knowing that plans for multiple outcomes were already swirling in the back of your mind while taking in what was before you.

Finally moving, you walked to the front door and grasped the copper handle to pull it open when a sudden gust of wind slammed it shut, pulling you against the unyielding wood with a loud thud. "What the—?"

Mari intervened, gently brushing your hand aside. Taking a few long strides back you watched as the short blond braced a foot against the doors frame for leverage, she clenched the handle with a firm grip and mustered all her strength to yank the door open.

With a gritty shove, the door finally yielded, breaking the vacuum seal between the tempestuous storm and the home's still air. Both of you stood silhouetted in the doorway, squinting into the blinding onslaught of the storm—visibility reduced to a mere five-foot radius. Mari shuffled her weight from one foot to the other, her nerves starting to win against her patience.

“Whats the damage so far Mari?”

"The storm appears to be getting closer, Mistress. As it stands, only Hannah's home and our newly erected shelter have withstood the havoc.”

With wide eyes and mouth gaped in shock, you turn to look down at your friend before placing a firm hand on her shoulder. Another ball of saliva forced its way down as panic set in, had the people who had come to depend on you made it to safety? The words had to be forced out with what little air it felt your lungs could grasp, voice scratchy and hoarse as the question was asked.

“Is everyone…are they okay?”

Mari gave a small smile and nodded her head in reassurance. She understood intimately the fear you had; she had been a first-hand witness to this islands ceaseless endeavors, helping lost souls and vulnerable women find not just shelter, but a home and small community to depend on. It might have been humble, but it was one of safety, filled with love and warm meals. More than most had experienced before in their lifetime.

"Everyone is safe," Mari whispered, her voice tinged with solemn relief as her smaller hand lay gently across your own. “So far it is just the buildings that have been destroyed. This storm came on so quickly the others didn't even have time to grab any personal belongings.”

Both of you looked back out the door as the hurricane seemed to stay in place on the tiny island.

“I guess we will have to wait and see what we can salvage, hopefully we can make enough to repair everything”.

Now where was that drink?

Two Months Later.

That's the length of time the colossal hurricane had churned off the coast of the Grand Line, its path ever changing, sometimes even veering dangerously close to BariBari Island. The last hurricane of this scale had been the stuff of legend, occurring generations ago. The kind of things elders spun as eerie tales for younger ears at bedtime, recounting a storm that raged for an entire year before vanishing as mysteriously as it appeared. These stories painted nightmarish scenarios—mighty ships splintered like kindling under the hurricane's wrath, lush islands stripped to barren wastelands, and entire communities swallowed up, leaving nothing but memories and fear in their wake. Its unyielding presence disrupted every facet of maritime travel and daily life for the Cross Guild.

And now, the behemoth storm showed signs of further intensifying, prompting the leaders of the Cross Guild to recall their entire armada back to the island. They aimed to minimize the loss of their assets, salvaging whatever could be spared from nature's fury. But this strategy made from necessity had a double edge to it, while it saved their assets, it also lost them time and money in doing so. The lack of incoming funds creating great irritation in the largest of the three leaders, and terrified the shorter showman. A stop to income meant debts couldn't be paid fully or on time.

The formidable warlords congregated around a large circular worn table. Emptied wine bottles, extinguished cigar stubs, and disheveled piles of coins and playing cards surrounded them like the aftermath of a battlefield. Initially convened for a formal meeting, their gathering had dissolved, as it often did, into late-night poker and calculated wagers. The air was thick with a smoky haze, trapped by the room's tightly shut windows. Scant candles flickered on sparse furnishings, casting ominous shadows that danced in rhythm to the distant roll of thunder. Raindrops pelted the windowpanes, each gust of wind testing the mettle of their rusted latches.

Just as a new round of thunder shook the very foundation of the room, the silence was shattered, with a high-pitched whine. Slumping dramatically in his chair while disembodied hands remained frozen, Buggy sneered at cards that he had yet to reveal—a losing hand, if the theatrics were any indicator. After already losings the last four rounds, his mind was craving After four loses from the last few rounds, and his chips stacks getting smaller and smaller, his brain started to struggle staying focused. Weeks of being kept inside, no sunlight and temperatures fluctuating between sweltering and freezing would make anyone irritable. Even more so for someone who’s brain never seemed to stay quite or still.

"This storm has been raging for weeks. The longer this damn hurricane goes on, the more I’m starting to think its possible to die from boredom."

Buggy stormed from his grandiose chair, boots thudding against the floor as he glowered through the windowpanes. Just two hours ago the rain-droplets had been freezing to the glass, and now it was so warm that the inside edges were dripping in humidity. It was impossible to stay in one layer of clothing for the whole day now, having to now switch between snow and winter ware to summer beach attire constantly. His usual outfit was reduced to more comfortable wear for the late night. Long azure-colored hair held up in a high ponytail to keep anything warm off his neck, classic makeup smudged after hours of wear and humidity. The fur-lined coat draped over the backing of his chair, accompanied by his stripped bandanna.

Pouring another full glass of wine, Mihawk's eyes flicked from Crocodile to Buggy. Setting the crystal glass down, a pale hand tossed a few more coins into the pile as cards were discarded and new ones added. The usually well-poised swordsman felt his patience wearing thin with being cooped inside for so long, finding time alone to read had become near impossible. Add the irritation of never having a moments peace and the shifting weather it was no wonder he had grown more and more quite as the night went on. Even his normally immaculate appearance had loosened to something more casual. Hair tousled, mustache bristling in odd directions from the sweltering dense air. Hat and coat hanging on the wall, sword leaning next to them forgotten and left to try and stay cooler during this hours choice of temperature.

Crocodile delicately ashed his sizable cigar into a nearby used glass. Leaning back into his chair, he relished the sound of the wooden joints creaking under his weight. "I've got some old acquaintances that are going to dock on the island soon. They asked if they could stay until the storm passed, its a smallish group of maybe twenty at most.”

While still looking out the window, Buggy rolled his eyes in boredom. “Oh yeah? What do they do for work?”

The behemoth man paused in his reach for a new card, a self-satisfied smirk tugging at his lips as he searched for a fitting descriptor. "They're a group of retired performers—some of the best at what they used to do." Plucking the new card, Crocodile grabbed an four of clubs to throw into the discard pile before nodding to the brunet next to him that it was his turn now.

Buggy perked up, spinning to face the table, his eyes alight with eagerness. "Performers?" Then, his excitement deflated. "Oh, wait. You said they're retired, right? So, they're old and boring." With a disheartened sigh, he laid down his cards and folded them, leaving the game to the other two men.

Silence once again fills the room, the clown could feel his skin crawl from under-stimulation and the banal environment, feeling the frenetic energy of his brain becoming louder.

“So when do the geezers get here?”

Crocodile stiffed a chuckle at Buggy's question, now turning to face the sword-smith to continue their card game, deliberately ignoring the clown's feigned indignation. “They should be arriving in the next few days, If the storm allows it.”

Shifting in his seat, Buggy swung one leg over the armrest and gazed out the window again, sulking in his boredom and already reaching for his coat as the temperature started to drop again.

A few hundred leagues away

Ornate tubes of lipstick danced like marionettes across the creaking floorboards, swept away by the hurricane's invisible hands as the storm outside orchestrated an all-out assault on the ship's integrity. Each howling gust and bone-jarring wave turned the vessel into a seesaw, rocking it in erratic patterns that defied gravity, from fore to aft, starboard to port.

When a particularly large wave crashed against the ship's bow the buckets in the room slid across from one corner to the other along with the smaller trunks of storage, their scraping noises adding to the symphony of the ship's already overstimulating orchestra. Falling to your knees with a harsh thump, a hand flew to cover your mouth as a particularly intense wave of nausea made itself known. Moans, groans, and the unmistakable retching of seasick passengers reverberated through the timbers as if the ship itself were in agony.

With a sense of urgency, the that Mari had help to adorned with delicate rings reached out in a desperate ballet, snatching up the errant lipstick tubes before they could escape into the narrow abyss between creaking planks. Then, as if provoked by your defiance, a colossal wave—fit for a sea monster's grand entrance—slammed into the bow. The impact sent buckets, dainty trunks, and sundry personal items skidding and screeching from one end of the room to the other. The shrill scraping of metal against wood joined the discordant orchestra, lending another layer of chaos to an environment already awash in sensory overload.

A knock at the door was heard before it slowly cracked open. A voice gently called out, "Miss? Are you alright?" In walked the familiar petite blond with a white apron cinched around her waist. Her eyes darted to where you stayed kneeling on the floor, curled over a bucket, trying to hold back from heaving up what little food you had been able to keep down so far.

"Oh dear, you poor thing. I knew this voyage would be trouble, especially with your seasickness." Mari helped guide you to sit up on the bed before wiping the sweat that had grown across the heat of your forehead with a rag dunked in a bowl of cool fresh water. "I didn't think it would be so rough when we're gaining distance from the storm's center. Are you sure we can trust this acquaintance of yours?"

Letting out a low, contented hum as the icy touch of the damp rag caressed your feverish forehead, taming wayward strands of hair that clung to moist skin. Head tilted back, eyes blissfully shut, you surrendered to Mari's nurturing touch as if each swipe of the cloth washed away a morsel of discomfort. "No, he is not someone to be trusted. I'm afraid turning back isn't an option, Mari. Since that storms appearance we’ve burned through almost all our emergency supplies. We’ve no money to speak of and nowhere to retreat to. Did the captain give any indication of how much longer this hellish ride will last—oh God!"

Even in so much discomfort and exhaustion your hand shot to a bucket tucked covertly under the bed, just in time for you to dry-have, retching into its emptiness. Mari's face crumpled in empathetic distaste, yet she remained steadfast, gathering your hair to prevent it from falling into the line of fire. "The captain assures us it'll only be a few more hours," she replied.

With a groan that seemed to echo the creaks of the ship, you withdrew your head from the foul-smelling bucket, collapsing onto the bed that swayed like a pendulum in sync with the ship's motion. "By gods, thank you for that news. Please, check on the others. From what I was hearing they might be faring even worse than me."

Mari bit her lower lip, a visible manifestation of her brewing concern. Sensing this, an eye cracked open, lips stretching into a warm, reassuring smile as you gently squeezed Mari’s arm. " You are too good to us, Mari, there is no one else we could hope to depend on. Please, they might need you more than me.”

At the encouraging nod, Mari pivoted gracefully and moved toward the door. Pausing on the threshold, her eyes lingered, bathed in the dim light of the room. "If you need anything, just holler, Miss." With that, she vanished into the dizzying corridor, momentarily losing her balance in the ship's wild sway. Bracing herself against the wall, she pressed on, intent on delivering the same vigilant care to the other ladies enduring this maritime ordeal.

Back in the sanctuary of your private chamber, starring at the ceiling, transfixed by the droplets of water that seeped through the holes in the timeworn deck above. Each droplet felt like a punctuation mark in the million thoughts that seemed to swirl repeatedly—a relentless reminder of your dire circumstances. Letting the right arm go limp, fingers loosely clutching the now lukewarm rag before letting it tumble to the floor. Your thoughts careened like a tempest, mirroring the chaos outside.

"We're in desperate need of help," the words murmured softly, as if verbalizing it might summon the assistance you so urgently required.

Shout Out To: @gingernut1314 @oddmawd @fanaticsnail @diabolicemerald @hey-august @lemony-snickers for being such amazing authors. All of you have given me inspiration and strength from reading and experiencing your creations to to able to spread my own wings. Thank you.

#buggy x reader #one piece buggy #buggy d clown #buggy the clown #buggy x you #buggy smut #one piece #opla buggy #op buggy #captain buggy #buggy headcanons #buggy one piece #buggy thoughts

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callinskiiscalling88 · 7 months ago

Text

"Prefect-san, is this....really necessary?" Azul queried as he stared at the shimmering blue car parked in the empty bank's parking lot. The streets were empty, so right now was the perfect time.

"Get in the car." They pointed at it.

"Ah yes, right away!"

Word count:b2,557

Idea by: @r3dr3ality

Warnings: None

Extra: proofread this without sleep and it's been 18 hours at least so no promises

Enjoy!

Azul hopped in the car and scowled at the twins' chuckles. Why did he let himself get dragged here by Yuu? Sure, he'd need to learn how to drive eventually, but he planned to hold it off at least a few more years, perhaps after graduation. But no! They were so insistent.

They hopped in the passenger seat and handed over the jingling keys. On the keyring was an angry octopus plushie, which he could heavily relate to right now (though he was more annoyed if anything).

"Insert it in the-"

"I know I know!" He thrusted the key in the hole and turned it until it revved on. The gauges adjusted to their proper points and the radio started playing Ozzy Osbourne's Mr.Crowley. Oh if only Dire Crowley was here! Actually he'd only care if he was liable. So it wouldn't matter. Unless it was his car. Where did Yuu get this from anyways?

"Hey be gentle with it!" They exclaimed. The sea creature turned his head to look at his comrade.

"Where'd you get this from?" He asked.

"Oh I got the keychain from an arcade game, it reminded me of you." They explained and flicked the purple plush. It made a little jangle the prefect was quite fond of.

"Reminds you of me?- No nevermind that. This car. Who's is it?"

"Oh don't worry about that. Come on start driving."

"I will worry it's im- PORTANT!" He yelped as Yuu put it in drive and it started moving...very slowly. A lot less climactic then he expected.

"Chill dude. It's barely moving." They said with an unimpressed look. He glared at them.

"You almost gave me a heart attack!" He scolded. "Don't do that!" But he wasn't taken seriously, in fact Yuu was moving their hand and lip syncing. "Hey! I'm not playing!"

They stopped and pointed at the road in front of them.

"Yeah yeah whatever. You're going to take this until the stop sign. Then turn around." They directed their finger past some trees. Great, he couldn't even see it.

"Alright." He replied with a sigh. Being a fish out of water was hard, now he has to be a fish in a car? Ridiculous!

He got in his zone and was actually doing it. He was doing it! Driving a car!

"You can go faster than the snails you know." They stated sarcastically. Ashengrotto looked down at the speedometer and it didn't even pass the average broomstick speeds. And those averages were short.

"I am going my preferred speed, thank you very much! Driver makes the rules!" He announced. "And shut this foul tune off!"

He looked away from the road to shut the radio off. It made a little click.

"AZUL!" They screamed. In a panic he slammed on the breaks. The sudden force rocked them in their seats.

"What?!" He exclaimed. Yuu could see his chest moving up and down and his face didn't hide how terrified he was. They started laughing, which only irritated the driver.

"Hahahaha! Oh my 7 your reaction is priceless! Dude I was kidding around!"

But the latter didn't find it funny. He murmured some gibberish Yuu didn't understand and continued driving. He tried his best to calm his heart rate, but the poor guy was still horrified. They noticed him tensed up as close to the wheel as possible, which definitely wasn't comfortable. He attempted to anxiously tap the wheel, but when he caught himself he stopped and tightened his grip. They sighed.

"Sorry."

"Thank you."

"Sitting like that won't help you. You need to be comfortable. Move back. And loosen your grip or you'll hurt your hands." They crossed their arms but pointed to his palms as they directed. Azul tried to take their advice and loosen up. He changed his position but he couldn't help his intense hold of the wheel.

"Good. That's a start. Now keep your eyes on the road, you're doing great."

"When's the stop sign?" He seemed to be starting to settle down.

"Just up here. You'll have to make a U-turn."

The car instantly stopped. Scratch that.

"A U-turn!?"

"Don't worry. It sounds a lot harder then it actually is. Plus you'll have a lot of room."

"Oh 7..."

The car ride was probably the slowest in their life. They knew he couldn't help it, but they almost fell asleep for Pete's sake.

They looked out their window and saw a shaggy man with a sign doing a dance. The sign read, "I am Pete! :D" with a stick figure drawing. Yeah not that Pete's sake. That one's obviously too far gone.

They were approaching the stop sign and they could see Azul mentally prepare himself. His eyes narrowed and- oh it was a lot more room than he thought.

"See, I told you." They reassured.

"I wasn't nervous."

"Whatever you want to tell yourself Octoboy."

"Don't call me that."

Finally the ride was over! Azul made it back to the starting point successfully, where the twins were waiting. Floyd looked bored out of his mind, but he had to wait a little longer for his turn. Right now it was...

Jade's! He got in right when his octopus companion got out. Yuu took it as him being a lot less patient than he put on.

"Okay so I kind of forgot to explain this to Az-" They pointed but were cut off.

"This is the speed gauge and this one tells me how much gas we have. I believe that's all I'll have to worry about."

"Yep. Dang you actually knew it."

"I studied up on it one time for a deal. " Yuu was about to speak but got cut off again. "No, I cannot elaborate. "

"Alright. Anyways good luck."

"Thank you, Prefect-san." He said as he put the radio on and turned it to the calm classical track. He got the car out of park and started driving. He even buckled and kept his steady pace.

Seems like he didn't need it, he did swimmingly! (Pun intended) They approached the roundabout quickly and he already started adjusting the car for the turn.

"You're going to make a turn around right here. Yep just like that." They stated as he turned. They didn't realize how good of a driver Jade oddly was. That's cool, fish can drive!

Their monologued congrats was interrupted with a sudden stop. Yuu put their hand on the glove box compartment and shot their head in his direction.

"What's wrong!?" They queried. The Leech unbuckled and left the car.

"One moment, Prefect-san. " It was almost like he was in a trance. He walked to a group of trees and kneeled down. Yuu couldn't see what he was looking at. They assumed he wouldn't be long and waited for him. However one minute soon became 5 which became 30 and they grew impatient. They hopped out the car to check out what was so interested.

"Yo Jade, we need to get back."

Of course...Mushrooms. The mushrooms were bright red. Wouldn't the vibrant hues mean they're poisonous? He didn't seem to care. He pulled them out the ground and scooped them into a large plastic bag he brought with him. Did he know these would be here? Or did he always carry the band around with him? They couldn't see his face but they imagined him practically beaming with a smile so wide it'd be long enough (if it physically could) to pull something out of a trench if it had fallen off a cliff. He didn't notice Yuu until he rose and turned around.

"Oh my apologies, I didn't mean to take that long. I couldn't miss up the chance of these Amanita muscaria." He apologized as he held the bag up proudly.

"Yeah... Okay come on." They started walking back to the car. They could care less about the mushrooms.

"You know these are considered Psilocybin mushrooms, or in other words they're like magic mushrooms. They affect the mind in-"

They blocked the rest out. He made it back to the car and finished the turn. But the way back was full of mushroom facts.

They finally made it back. They couldn't tell which ride felt longer, Azul's with his slow driving or Jade's with his boring rant. Oh well now it was

Floyd's turn. Yuu didn't feel like making the pitstop so they had the others ride in the back seat. Of course once they had to get on main roads they'd have to stop to switch drivers but they didn't think about it when they made the others get in.

"I did better than Azul." Jade remarked as the two buckled. Azul complained about it but the ones in the front seat ignored it.

"Which one is the gas?" He asked. Oh 7... This was going to be something.

"That one." They pointed.

He was an unpredictable one, so they didn't know how this would go. He could stop half way and make Yuu finish the drive, he could crash into a tree, or he could-

Zoom off with a trail of dust. They made it past the stop sign in an instant, but of course didn't bother to stop.

"WOOO!! NOW THIS IS MY KIND OF RIDE!!" Yuu exclaimed and put their hands in the air. Although the octopus in the back had a different opinion on the matter.

"Slow down Floyd!'" Azul demanded as he instinctively clung to Jade for dear life. "You're going to make us cra-AASH!"

A small bump made him yelp, which made Jade chuckle. Ashengrotto realized what he was doing and let go of the eel. Floyd didn't listen to his orders, and continued cruising. The scenery all blurred together, so they failed to notice the car on the side of the road with two officers inside.

"Hey Pete, what you got there?" The cop behind the wheel asked his comrade, who was a shaggy guy with a sign. He handed the sign to his friend. "Oh a sign. With your name on it. Is this why you disappeared? To make this?"

He responded with a thumbs up and hopped in the car. He slammed the door shut and grabbed one of the donuts from their cafe box. The two ate their donuts in peace until s blue car bolted past them.

"That's not the speed limit. Get the lights on."

Pete flicked a switch and the sirens turned on, along with blinding top lights. Then they were in pursuit.

Despite Floyd's illegal speeds he did great. He hit all the turns and- well nothing else. He didn't stop at any sign, who knew if they physically could stop in time at this speed. Azul was absolutely horrified in the back, and Jade was enjoying the nice breeze.

"Ugh change this horrible station." The driver said and switched the song to a heavy metal one. "There, much better."

The (for mostly everyone) peaceful ride was turned sour then he looked out the back windows.

"Kufufu, it seems like we have company."

Yuu and Azul turned their heads and gasped. Then screamed in unison.

"THE COPS!?"

Azul shouted fish curses but no one seemed surprised by it. Yuu didn't even understand it and the twins probably heard it all before. Floyd stayed focused on the road.

"Lame. How can I shake em?" He questioned.

"By stopping?!"

"Make a right then a left then a couple rights then a left. Should confuse them."

Floyd listened to the latter and made a sharp right. Azul slammed into the door with a loud thump, and Jade couldn't help but topple over him.

"FLOYD!" Ashengrotto shouted. He didn't even care about the tall fellow on him, he was more focused on the crime he was in the middle of. Jade watched merrily.

Floyd followed his instructions, which seemed to have chased off the cops. Yuu changed the station back to the classical hits for Azul's sake, even if it wouldn't do much.

"Okay you lost them now we have to return back to Night Raven." Yuu explained.

"Yes, but which way is that?" Jade queried as he rose off of the octopus. Said octopus dusted himself off, like it'd rid him of the diseases he was just given. Once he looked up he hollered.

"CLIFF!!"

Yuu turned their head.

"CLIFF!"

"CLIFF!!" Screamed Floyd but he was much happier about it. He tried stopping but at this rate they would still fall. Jade quickly noticed their predicament and unbuckled Azul. This was it, they'd plummet to their deaths and their bodies would never be found. They'd be splatted all over and be undefinable. They'd die listening to dramatic classical opera.

Everything seemed to slow down. Like time specifically wanted this moment to last.

"Guys, I love you. All of you" Yuu needed to get something out before their demise.

"Love you too, Koebi-chan." Floyd was chill about it, like he just accepted his fate.

"I love you all so much!" Azul was sobbing.

"I appreciate the sentiments and you all are dear to me but I have more mushrooms to gather before I die. So, goodbye." Jade announced as he opened the door and pushed the octopus out. He followed suit.

"OH THANK THE 7S I'M NOT BUCKLED!" Yuu shouted as they pushed the door open and hopped out.

"Oh." The ex-driver said dully and copied the prefect. Just in time too.

The shimmering blue car flew off the cliff. It stayed in the air for what felt like a comedic suspense while, then plummeted. The 4 walked over to the edge, and watched it fall down the trench. It landed with a loud crash and combusted.

"Damn."

"We don't-." Azul sniffled. "Tell anyone about this."

"Deal." Everyone said in unison. It's a shame Azul didn't write it on a contract, he had everyone so willing! Jokes aside, everyone was thankfully safe and they could start their long journey back home. The group turned around and began walking in silence. It was the prefect who broke it.

"Well Crud, Crewel-Sensei just lost his car."

"The car was his!?""

*Insert ending sfx here*

Final Thoughts

Sooo...I wrote this at like 2am and it's 530 now

This is the post I got the idea from. Diasomnia is next on my agenda if I get another random burst of motivation. It'll probably be another latey! 👍

Anyways have a wonderhoytastic day!!

#Callinski's fanfics #twisted wonderland #twst #disney twst #azul ashengrotto #floyd leech #jade leech #fanfic #driving #mushrooms #comedy #wrote this way too late sorry y'all #writing #cross posted on ao3

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