#as much as the dirt feeds does it eat.

[gamdaughter]

“███ ████,” is what he said. But for some odd reason, Geegee could not hear him. And although whatever he had said remained as a lingering thought in her mind, she couldn’t quite place her finger on what had happened.

But alas, maybe her judgment  had been decided on giving the hatted man a  chance at perhaps a friendship—or at the least acquaintanceship, but the earth ebbed at her feet, invisible vines stretching across her limbs. The girl could not stay.

It’s not safe, she thinks, new thoughts seeping into her brain like a parasite. She did not think this moments earlier. Where had this thought come from? Nonetheless, this new belief sang a song to her that felt like home(a superficial feeling, at the least), a song that pulled her into its sickeningly sweet embrace. So she ran. 

May it so be that the dirt absorbed what she quite knew, the encounter no more than a blur in her mind. Jagged pieces clawing at the back of her head, nails against a chalkboard, grating and frustrating. Grasping small details she could, but the last parts of her encounter she could not fully wrap her head around, for the future inlaid in the threads of fate have been rewoven. 

Perhaps in another timeline could it have been that the girl made friends with ████████████. However, it seems as though, as fate is driven off its course, reality is no longer what it perhaps was meant to be. Goodbye, ██████████, for the drifter’s ballad remains to be unheard.

[manikas-whims]

LADS Men & the type of cats they are

in honor of the new quad banner ♡

RAFAYEL (Nyafayel)

🐾 picky eater, will not eat dry food and will make a yucky face at canned food, wants you to cook proper meals everyday, and wants you to diversify the meals

🐾 will knock over every article from your work desk, bedside table, kitchen counter, etc. while looking right into your eyes with his most defiant and naughty “try me” expression 😌

🐾 usually chill but will want all your attention in the presence of others; be it cats or humans..clingy af at night..will howl outside your room’s door until you let him in and let him sleep with you in bed..

🐾 also the type to wail when you leave him alone at home to go to work, and immediately smothers you with licks and rubs the moment you come back

🐾 hisses at water, will accidentally scratch you when you try to give him a bath..yet at the same time, enjoys being pampered..he's the type who sees you doing makeup & wants you to put it on him as well 🎀

XAVIER (Catvier)

🐾 a lazy cat (cats do sleep around 16~18 hours)..one of those who fall into a deep slumber and you're just left shaking and calling him, concerned..and then he just lazily yawns and looks at you with the most innocent, confused gaze 🥺

🐾 slow blinks at you at random moments to express how much he loves you..also rubs his head against your legs and purrs, wraps tail around your leg,..kinda territorial, hisses if you smell like someone else..

🐾 loves food, is kind of a glutton..you need to stop feeding him..just because he meows sadly at you every hour doesn't mean he's hungry

🐾 does those weird cat things like sleep in awful postures, might stand on two feet and stare at you n do other weird shit lol

🐾 hates being toyed with but will immediately jump at the laser pointer lol..really sharp at spotting house lizards and mouse..will immediately catch them (topple alot of stuff in the process) and bring them to you as gifts

ZAYNE

🐾 is a gentleman and doesn't disturb you..sits nearby while you work so he can easily climb into your lap and offer comfort if you start feeling stressed or tired

🐾 not very vocal but there are days when he really wants affection, and on those days, he silently approaches you, headbutts you and meows softly, patiently waiting for you to pet him 🥺

🐾 not a talkative kitty but responds to everything you say..you call his name and he'll meow with affection, you ask if he's hungry and replies with a soft yet prolonged meow, you ask if wants to play and he meows cheerfully

🐾 very well-behaved, loves self-grooming but also never bothers you when it comes to bathing and grooming..sits like a good boy even when you're trimming his nails

🐾 does the most perfect loaf, may climb onto your belly when you're lying down and loaf onto your belly lol..is a baker kitty and will start kneading when he's feeling extra affectionate

SYLUS

🐾 an outdoor kitty, sometimes disappears for a day or two and just when you start feeling a little concerned, he’s tiptoeing back in through the flap in your door..may be covered in dirt or even small nicks and cuts from fights he picks with the strays

🐾 makes you chase him around the house the moment he realises you're going to give him a bath..but the moment he's put in the tub, he's actually enjoying it..might cozy up there for far longer than necessary

🐾 very confident..do not yell at him for anything because he will growl and snarl back..doesn't like it when you scold him..also the type to catch mice n other small animals but he likes toying with them for fun 😭

🐾 there are days when you come across him meowing along to some tune..he's a talented singer, also likes to sing his meows when you're preparing his meal

🐾 will not let you pet him much..like he'll let you stroke his fur for a while and then suddenly when he gets overwhelmed by it, he will bite your hand lol (my cat does this sometimes 😭) actually likes play-biting

i couldn't think up any good kitty names for Zayne and Sylus, so if y'all got any, please drop them in replies 🙏 n i’ll add them

» MASTERLIST «

[rafeysbambii]

BAMBI FEEDING STRAWBERRIES TO RAFE PLS 🙏🙏

hypnosis : bambi feeds rafe some fresh strawberries :)

warnings : sexual innuendo at the beginning, cursing!

story type : drabble!

a/n : ahhhh thank you so much for the request! i absolutely love this idea! and strawberries just so happen to be my favorite fruit! <3

“when the hell did they — fuck bambi yeah like that honey, - when did they plant a goddamn strawberry field?” upon hearing rafes voice, bambi is pulled from her task at hand — lifting her head from rafes hard cock with a comical ‘pop’. “rafey! rafey stop the car right now!”

she exclaims as she wipes her spit ridden lips with her pretty pink nails, making rafe groan out in annoyance. “for what — shit calm down bambi — gonna make me crash the damn car!” he shoos her hands that are slapping at his chest as he pulls the car over to the side. “now why the hell did you stop sucking.”

“because! there’s a strawberry field rafey! do you have any idea what this means?!” with a groan of annoyance and disbelief as he tucks himself back inside of his khaki shorts. “we’re not going to the fuckin’ strawberry—“

“you better make this fuckin quick bambi. lost a blowjob cause of this stupid shit.” rafe had eventually given in to the pout bambi gave him in the car, and god he couldn’t resist her and those eyes she uses to get him to do something for her (even though he never declines), he even gave in to swiping his card for an overpriced basket so his girl could pick her strawberries in peace.

“okay rafey!” she chirps happily, already skipping through the field packed with bright red strawberries, bambi’s absolute favorite, which makes rafe smile because he just loves to see his girl happy. his girl.. yeah he likes the sound of that now that he really thinks about it.

“ooo they’re so fresh rafey! come try one!” she holds up a strawberry and he can’t help but admit to himself that it does look delicious, even if it’s just a fruit. “shouldn’t you like.. wash it or something bambi? it’s got dirt and shit on it.” bambi simply rolls her eyes at his pickiness, before she’s practically shoving the fruit down his throat.

“it’s fine rafey! they’re just strawberries!” her smile is what pushes him to eat the strawberry fully, even if it tastes lightly of dirt and earth, anything bambi asked of him, he would do. he’d kill for her, buy the entire world for her if that’s what she wanted.

god he really loves her, rafe hasn’t felt love since his mother passed and his father remarried, but now, he finds himself smiling like a nerd during the smallest moments of them being together - like the time bambi had simply smiled at a tiktok of babies giggling? he swore he was going crazy because how could one person be so.. so bright, and beautiful to make the grumpiest man smile?

“thank you thank you thank you rafey! i love you soooo much! m gonna make some pie - and some cake and oh oh some smoothies with these! c’mon!” he smiles to himself again when she grabs his arm and pulls him back to his black truck. “yeah yeah, i love you too honey.”

that girl is gonna be the death of him.

authors note : thank you for the request! i had so much fun writing this, and i hope you like it too!

[willowser]

you don't know how much comfort your dragon king bkg drabble has given me ever since you posted it!! i keep reading it i love it sm 🥹

as it turns out, the man bakugou is — a bit harder to handle.

he sleeps like a heathen; you once thought the dragon bakugou to be a bit lazy, with how often he tended to curl up in the fields of grass, warm under the sun, but now — it would seem his little human form needs significantly less rest.

almost up all hours of the day, and when he does finally lay down, he's everywhere. a mess of limbs: one thrown carelessly out to the side and the other bent at an angle you can't believe doesn't hurt his joints. his head stays tucked into you somehow, either buried in your neck or pressed against your ribs — or you'll wake to find him nose-to-nose with you. he still snores like a dragon, however.

you're also beginning to wonder if there is a bottom to the pit of his stomach. he ate much before, whole fields of things, but you expected that appetite to dwindle, at least a little, now that his stomach has decreased considerably in size. and in number ? you're not even sure how many stomachs a dragon has; that's not something that was mentioned in the fairytales.

it burns through him quickly, gives him more energy than he needs, and it doesn't ever seem to affect his weight much. already, he's huge and thick with muscle and eating as much as he does never dulls the severity of his cut abdomen. not that you're looking all that much.

— not that you have a choice not to, as he seems to have little-to-no understanding of —

the door to the bathhouse kicks open, with enough force that you already know who it is without ever turning to look. you try not to shriek when you see him, because he seems to like that in some evil, impish way.

you've been alone to wash so far, thankfully, as the inn you'd managed to find was small and far enough out from the nearest kingdom that the occupancy was low — enough for you and your little brute.

the man bakugou comes to stand in front of the bath, blinking and huffing against the steam. finding clothes for him was — nearly impossible, and so the trousers you'd found hanging on someone's line outside fit above his ankles, a bit too tight around his waist. instead of a shirt, you've wrapped him in a scratchy linen, swaddled him up like a baby to cover the small smattering of scales that decorate his body, almost like freckles from the sun, though they gleam just as bright and red as they ever have. no matter his form.

a horn has started to sprout, on the right side of his forehead, and you've done your best to cover that, too.

you have no idea how long this man thing will last. if it's permanent or if he even has control over it. the last thing you need is for him to switch back, somehow, while you're in the middle of feeding him, absolutely demolishing whatever tavern you're in and calling all of king todoroki's guards to attention.

bakugou grunts, almost sleepy, and tosses a fat, weighty sack onto the edge of the bath. it jingles a certain jingle that makes your heart stop.

"oh, allfather—" you move for the edge, awkwardly keeping one arm against your chest despite the fact that he's seen it all by now. when you peek inside and confirm your fears, you lob it back to him furiously, as if it were a steaming potato. "where do you keep getting this stuff?"

things have started to turn up, miraculously. shiny things — like coins and rings and gems. things he could not have simply found rolling around in the dirt.

"go put it back!" you hiss at him, and the tone of your voice makes his frown deepen. you never realized how pouty he was, when he was still a dragon.

you think he understands you, and you're pretty certain he just chooses not to listen; instead of doing what you've told him in the slightest, he simply dumps the coin-purse to the floor, and then lets his linen and stolen trousers cover it as he unceremoniously undresses.

the biggest issue that you would say the man bakugou poses is — his complete lack of understanding of personal space.

"bakugou!" your voice wavers, shocked again by his nakedness. as if you haven't seen it all by now. "no, you — get out!"

but he does the exact opposite, which is hop into the steaming water, ignoring the arm you hold out to keep him away as he saddles up beside you. skin against scales, pressing a nose into your hair to huff out his annoyance, to make it something you can feel.

if anyone were to walk in right now, they would — probably think the lie you'd told the innkeeper was true. that you are a simple traveler and this is your mute, over-sized husband.

regardless, you think this behavior isn't polite. especially in a public bathhouse.

"bakugou," you try again, turning your face away as you speak to the wood-paneled wall. "i'm taking a bath, you have to wait your turn."

all you receive in response is another huff against your ear and a low rumble of disagreement from his chest.

he has yet to speak back, and has only used inhuman sounds as his points of conversation. the only word you've ever heard him utter is oi, which he does when he really thinks he needs your attention. you're starting to wonder if he's named you that in his head. oi.

curiously, you turn back to him and the movement has him pulling his face from your hair, just enough that he can look down at you, too. watch you, with the red-rippled sea in his eyes.

they're — amazing, you will admit. just as bright and detailed as they always have been. fit for a fairytale told by the fire, veiled by the soft-ash of his lashes. he watches you through them, half-lidded, and you wonder if it's something other than fatigue that has them so heavy.

"do you know what i'm saying?" you ask quietly, voice lacking the firm heat you want it to. instead it's heavy, too, weighted by something soft and unfamiliar and frightening. "can you even understand me?"

bakugou doesn't respond, not with a huff or a rumble or ever a purr, like the one he let out on the night he lay over you by the lake. you've only heard it sparingly since then, oftentimes in his sleep when his face is pressed into you.

you try not to frown at his silence, try not to let it disappoint you because it shouldn't; he's a dragon afterall, and you're not sure what it matters. the little horn protruding from his forehead catches your eye and you reach up to touch it gently, watching him blink away the water that drips from your wrist — and then he's turning into you again, too close.

beneath the water, you feel his hands skate up your bare thighs, wrap around your waist until your chest is pulled flush against his. you feel his huff, again, against the damp skin of your neck but it's slower, lighter. not laced with his frustration. some unknown thing you feel guilty for liking.

you drop your hand to his hair, rushing full force into all the damned things you've thought about doing but have been too afraid to. he's soft between your fingers, and you trace your nails lightly against his scalp until he groans quietly; a new noise, one you don't know how to translate.

your fingers stop when they brush upon little spines that have grown at the base of his skull, that have started to trail down the center of his back.

suddenly, tangled up in the bath with him, you wonder how much time you have left.

bakugou huffs again into your skin, a little fiercer this time, and it's because of his light jostling that you realize how rigid you've gone. you try to relax so that he will, too, though you must not do a convincing job, because a sharp nip comes to your earlobe.

"ow!" you squeal, but he doesn't let you go far, not even as you try to jerk away from him. in fact, the harder you try the more his teeth show: into your cheek and the point of your jaw and then dangerously low on your neck.

it's not until you finally freeze that he stops, huffing again, with a warmth that burns more than the steaming water.

and then, very quietly, he grumbles, "shitty wife," into your collarbone, just before biting you again.

[sturniolo-rat]

The High Life Part 1

Matt Sturniolo X Stoner!Reader

Part 2

A/N: because I need a babysitter when I’m high and this is generally how it goes.

Contains: fluff💕, daddy k!nk

TW: drug use

In which Matt babysits a high Y/N and she becomes submissive and breedable😏

“Matt, would you still love me if I was a worm?” Y/N asks, looking at him through a cloud of smoke.

He looks up from his game “You’re high as shit, but yes, I would, the fuck”? She’s always asking dumbass questions when she smokes. Matt doesn’t smoke himself, but he likes to be around to watch Y/N. Not only does she look really hot, but she becomes so baby, and he wants to take care of her. 

“Okay, but what would you do?” She looks up at him expectantly, looking for a very specific answer.

He turns in his chair. “I’d put you somewhere safe and find the wizard bastard that did this to you.”

Y/N shakes her head furiously. “No, there’s no wizard. The universe just took my human form back and decided I was actually supposed to be a worm.” She says, pulling the rolling tray onto her lap as she sits on the bed facing him crisscross applesauce.

“Alright, easy.” He claps his hands. I got this.” She pauses grinding her weed to lean in. This time, she’s hoping for a more pleasing answer. “I’m going outside every day, rain or shine, even if it’s a hurricane, and I’m screaming up at the sky and demanding the universe turn you back.”

Wrong again. “Oh, so you only care for my human body and not my worm body?” she says indignantly as she struggles to roll her joint.

He grabs her face and kisses her forehead. “Baby, please, you already know you’d have a 6-foot terrarium in our room” he takes her rolling tray off of her and starts fixing her shitty rolling. “but I know you’d be sad cuz you wouldn’t be able to talk. Hence my screaming at the universe.” He licks the end of the rolling paper and seals the joint up. “It’s all for you, my love.” And he holds the perfectly rolled joint out. He learned to roll for her recently. He can only roll joints thought because blunts are for losers, and Y/N doesn’t fuck with tobacco. 

She takes it from him, completely shocked. “Well,, I guess that’s nice of you?” Referring to his hypothetical screaming and his unhypothetical miracle joint rolling skills. “Since when did you know how to do anything even remotely related to drugs?” 

“Last week. I thought I would help my baby out in all her endeavors.” He cracks a smile, knowing he’s thoroughly impressed her. 

She spaces out for a few seconds, then Says, “Could I come outside sometimes?”

He nods, instantly, knowing that her brain just did a factory reset, and is talking about the worm hypothetical again. “Mhmm, I’d put you in my shirt pocket, and we’d go on dates, and I’d get you plates of dirt to eat.” This was not the answer she was looking for because it was so much better, and just so perfectly Matt.

“You’re amazing.”

He pats her head. “I’ll go get you some snacks and water, Lovie.” He leaves, and Y/N feels so comfy and loved. 

“Get my special cup, please!” she yells to the kitchen. The cup in question is a 40-oz stainless steel tumbler that says Daddy’s Girl. Matt knows she’s in subspace. 

When he comes back to the room, Y/N is all cuddled up in bed with the stuffed shark he won at the fair last month. He’s got her special cup in hand and his arms full of chips. He throws them all on the bed and hands over the cup. “Got your cuppy, Sweetheart.”

“Thank you, Daddy.” he never liked being called Daddy before he met Y/N. She just brings something out in him. When she’s around, he just wants to take care of her in every conceivable way. 

“Anything for you, Baby.” He sits beside her on the bed, and she lies her head on his lap. Matt feeds her chips as they watch Family Guy. It’s amusing watching tv with Y/N when she’s high because she can’t follow the plot story shit. He likes asking her what she thinks is happening and listening to her crazy, convoluted answers. 

Somehow, over the course of a couple of hours Y/N ends up sitting between his legs with her back against his chest. She cranes her neck and stares up at him for a while. His lips look so soft, and she can’t look away. Matt notices this and tries to focus her back on the show. “So, what do you think Brian and Stevie are up to right now?”

“D’know.” She shrugs and continues to look at him.

“Do you need something, baby?” He asks.

“Mhmm,” she said, shaking her head and biting her lip.

Matt knows exactly where she’s going with this. “What do you need,

Love. You have to tell me before I can help you.”

“I need you, Daddy.” with that, she opens up a whole new can of worms.

Smutty part 2

Masterlist

Taglist

[artdcnaldson]

Ok so I’m coming around with the cheating fantasy (sorry im on the vanilla side) I gotta ask, how do you think the trio would snake back reader to their quad? The scenario is that at stanford reader had a relationship with the trio, broke up after a couple of years due to possessiveness, jealousy and borderline toxic behavior from all 4 of them. I can def see reader, after some years removed from them, a new boo and a ring on their finger, fall victim to Patrick first, him convincing reader to at least hear the trio out, the trio causing some chaos to readers engagement, all trying to get reader back to their fucked up little quad

GODDDDD I love the toxicity so badly fuck!!! I need more of this so fuck it. give me an au name we’re running this bad boy into the dirt if we have to

You run into Patrick at your second bar of your bachelorette bar crawl— with a short white dress and a little cheap tiara and veil and a sash that says Bride to Be in silver sparkles.

You choke down your shot when you notice him, eyes wide as you get fucking yanked into flashbacks of Patrick and Tashi and Art and all the shit you got into at Stanford. Good… and very bad.

You try to ignore him, but he’s not going to let that slide. He sidles up beside you at the bar, smiling wolfishly, like he wants to just eat you up.

He’s standing too close, leaning in so you can hear him over the loud music of the bar— his breath is warm and tickles your cheek as he tells you how good you look, that he’s missed you. His hand settles on your arm and he’s so warm.

“When’s the wedding?” He asks.

“25 days,” you reply. “At the botanical garden near his hometown.”

He thinks you sound a little dreamy about it, like it’s a fairytale. So he picks at it, needs to make it unravel. “Have you fucked?”

Your eyes go wide, you frown in annoyance, maybe a little bit of amusement, he thinks. “Patrick—“

He shrugs. “Well, I just remember how particular you were in college. Just want to make sure you’re marrying someone who knows how to take care of you.” Your mind unconsciously feeds you the memories in tiny flashes— how nice it had been to be their plaything, to be taken care of. Falling apart as Patrick’s cock bullied into you, or as Art buried him head between your thighs, or around Tashi’s fingers or strap.

Pillow princess. You had always been taken care of, at least sexually. They liked keeping their sweet girl satisfied in that way, even if the other areas could fall flat.

“Particular,” you echo. “You know most people have very fulfilling sex lives with just one partner.“

He grins, shrugs. “Well, you’re not most people.”

It pisses you off. And you’re losing the nice buzz you’d gotten from that first bar. You grab a stupid glowing shot off of a girl carrying a tray, throw it back with a huff.

“You don’t know anything about me, Patrick.” You meet his gaze, raise a brow.

“We dated for— what?— four years? I know plenty.” He pauses, leans closer. Impossibly closer. “I know how you act when you love someone, when you really love them in your fucked up way you do and not the bullshit romcom act you’re putting on for him. I know the kind of sounds you only take when you’re taking two cocks at once. Does your…” he trails off, looks at the stupid shirts your bridesmaids are wearing further down the bar. “Ben. Does Ben know that?”

You scoff, brush past him with hot annoyance in your belly. This is your fucking night— for fun and getting shitfaced with your friends before you get married and Ben doesn’t let you go out as much anymore. Before you have to carry his kids and lose yourself to a newer, boring version of yourself everyone would just call mom.

Whatever. Ben makes you happy. You don’t want to reach 30 and still be clinging to a toxic four way relationship from college. That would be clinical. You had been happy for three years away from them— you weren’t their girl anymore.

So why are you relieved when Patrick follows you into the alleyway between this bar and the one next door. When he pins your wrists above your head against the scratchy brick wall and tells you to stop him if you don’t want it.

“I don’t want it.” You say, weakly, while your lips instinctively seek out his. “I don’t… I don’t want it.”

“Don’t want what?” Don’t want this? Don’t want Ben? His lips brush against yours, teasingly, almost like it hadn’t even happened and you sigh.

“I just… I don’t—“ and you’re kissing him, messy and hungry and so fucking perfect. You’ve missed Patrick’s kisses— the intensity and need. Ben doesn’t kiss like that. Actually you can’t stand the way Ben kisses sometimes— like you’re already an old maid with no sexuality at all. Like he’s already planning the affair he’d have with his secretary in a few years.

Patrick’s hand slips between your thighs and you nearly sob with relief. He knows your body so well, he knows you so well. He makes you cum with no effort at all, gushing onto his fingers.

He tidies your sash, straightens your veil hairclip. He sucks his fingers between his lips, cleans them off. “Your bridesmaids are going to miss you,” Patrick says plainly. Testing you.

“Do you? Miss me, I mean. And I mean me, not… not that you miss fucking me.”

“We all miss you, baby. You know how crazy seeing your engagement photos made us? Fucking crushed us.” He kisses your forehead, so tenderly that your heart starts to stutter. You want to say something, but you don’t know what there really is to say. But Patrick gets it. He always does. “I hope Ben makes you really, really happy. You deserve better than just settling.”

You nod, but it’s all so confusing. Ben makes you happy, doesn’t he? You weren’t settling, were you? He was a good guy, a sweet guy, and you loved his family.

But was he the one person you wanted to spend your life with? Could one person really be all you needed?

You walked back into the party and got another drink from the bar, almost waiting for Patrick to come back in and whisk you away.

He never did.

[lttl3babybug]

Do you have any regressor Nightcrawler headcanons?

YEAESYESTWSYESTES

sorry. I’m a really normal person about Kurt, I promise.

Regressor!Nightcrawler Headcanons

🫐Kurt regresses from 1-8. So much baby fits into that little guy

🫐If he’s regressed smaller he is a picky eater and I mean as picky as picky can be

🫐When hes 6-8 though? That little guy will eat handfuls of dirt if left unattended

🫐He has done that. On multiple occasions.

🫐He’s a padded baby and cautionary kid, having someone watch him every 5 seconds so he doesn’t eat dirt or have an accident

🫐Very much likes building blocks, like the wooden ones

🫐Builds towers and just stares at them

🫐He will sit for hours watching the blocks do nothing like 0_o

🫐It’s quite cute actually, and slightly disturbing

🫐He is a cuddle bug, bamfing into your arms every chance he gets

🫐He gets along with other regressors but prefers to be with just his cg/sitter when baby

🫐Especially because they knock down his block towers (Logan)

🫐But it’s mainly cause he can only say limited words and mainly babbles or whines

🫐Baby Kurt is bottle fed and he loves it, he gets to cling to his cg while they feed him and run their fingers through his hair

🫐He loves being swaddled and carried

🫐Just being carried in general

🫐He will lay on the floor and whine to be picked up despite being table to teleport

🫐Toddler/kid Kurt is like the textbook definition of feral toddler

🫐He is outside. Do not bring him inside.

🫐He is in the dirt 90% of the time, he does outside all squeaky clean and comes back in with his fur mud clad and like 10 new bruises, cuts and bug bites

🫐He doesn’t even notice them till someone points them out

🫐Love hate relationship with plasters, on one hand he loves the fun designs but on the other hand ouchy they hurt when they rip his fur off while being taken off

🫐He’s a friend to the insects, showing his cg/sitter or friends all the caterpillars and beetles that crawl on him

🫐He is definitely more social as a kid/toddler, mainly cause he can form coherent sentences

🫐Prefers if his playmates are also in more of a toddler headspace but there’s been plenty of times the team have seen Kurt playing with baby Logan while using his tail to hold up a bottle or sippy cup for him

🫐He holds everything with his tail cause it leaves his hands free

🫐He’ll hold his sippy cup with it so he can use both hands to make mud pies or macaroni artwork

🫐His favourite snack, no matter how small or big he is, is bananas and yoghurt. Chopped bananas and yoghurt.

🫐He’s not prone to tantrums but that’s not to say he hasn’t thrown them

🫐He will yell and bite and oh good god do those bites hurt

🫐He has sharp little fangs that will make whoever he’s bitten bleed

🫐He’ll bamf away till someone finds him and puts him in time out

🫐He cries the whole time he’s in time out, sitting on a chair in the naughty corner

🫐He will very sincerely apologise to anyone he bit or yelled at while crying

🫐Might even make them a drawing or a colouring page as an apology gift

🫐He will also tail behind them with his tail between his legs and ears dropped

🫐Despite being able to communicate better while regressed older he will revert to German sometimes and gets very frustrated when the others don’t automatically know what he’s saying

🫐He really likes toy cars and rolling them at people so they roll them back to him

[tropes-and-tales]

A Hundred Nights More

Characters:  Yautja/Predator x f!reader

CW:  Yearning; talk of sexual relations but no graphic smut; 18+ to be safe.

Word Count:  3440

Other Pieces:  This is a sequel to this.

It should be strange, leaving Earth with the Yautja.  You go willingly this time, no baffling falling through the sky after being kidnapped as prey.

The entire time you pack a few bags, your brain keeps asking, this should be strange, right?  Isn’t this strange?  Why doesn’t it feel strange?

You pack your bags to leave your planet with an alien species.  An alien species, it should be noted, that routinely hunts your species.  That routinely kidnaps your kind to hunt.  That had kidnapped you, in fact.

It should be strange, but you don’t hesitate to leave.  And why not?  Didn’t you feel more alive in those few months with the Yautja then you had in your entire life previously?  And didn’t your stomach flutter and twist to see him again, to see him step into the ring of your firelight and hold his hand out to you?

It should be strange, but when you step onto his ship, it feels like coming home.

*****

Be’kan is no Youngling, yet this decision to take you a second time…it’s rash.  Not well thought out.  For a Hunter who spends painstaking amounts of time in planning, this is something else entirely.

Though he doesn’t take you this time.  This time you come willingly.  

You follow him willingly, and you reach an unspoken understanding of what you are to each other:  he feeds you, keeps you warm and safe.  You tell your stories.  Together, the two of you travel to where he Hunts, alone or with his kin.

For a long while, it’s enough.

*****

There’s misunderstandings.  There’s bound to be.  You’re different species entirely.

So much of your life now is like your life on the game preserve planet.  He goes hunting; you stay at camp or in his ship and content yourself with tidying up, exploring the vicinity nearby.  You dust off those rusty Girl Scout skills:  you get good at building fire from nothing but a pile of sticks and a piece of flint-like rock.  You get good at banking coals, at cooking the raw, bleeding meat he brings back to camp.

He seems to prefer his meat raw or nearly raw.  He clicks, huffs in an exasperated way when you sear the meat…but he eats it and seems no worse for wear for it.

Sometimes others join him.  They are the same ones from the game preserve, and Be’kan explains that they all share a sire, a great Hunter who sired many generations of great Hunters.

The others regard you as a curiosity.  You feel their eyes on you as you move around the camp.  You hear their barks and chitterings, their strange way of laughing, and you guess they are talking about you.  Joking about you.

Maybe planning your death.  Though not a worthy prey, your polished skull might serve as a placeholder in their collection until they hunt something better.

One of them, a younger one, touches you one night.  He reaches out one of his massive paws and yanks on the end of your hair.  It doesn’t hurt much, and you don’t think he meant it to hurt.  He cocks his head at you as he rubs the strand of hair between a thumb and finger.  He’s studying you.

It lasts all of a second before there’s a streak out of the corner of your eye, then the younger Yautja is on his back in the dirt—Be’kan on top of him, snarling in his face, a blade pressed to his younger brother’s throat.

You don’t understand what he’s snarling, but you can guess:  hands off of her.  

It shouldn’t affect you, but it does.  No man on Earth ever had such a protective moment for you, and you can’t ignore the low ache of need as you curl up near him that night—close, but not touching.

-----

Which is why you are confused:  Be’kan almost never touches you.  

You can count on one hand the times he has:  on the game preserve planet, when he reset your broken ankle.  On his ship when he was taking you home, when he took your hand in his and showed you his trophy room.  On Earth, when he reached out and touched your lips, like he was testing the softness of your mouth.

So three times, then.

When he returned for you, he called you his mate, but you wonder if that word has a different meaning in his world.  After the incident with his brother, you wonder too if touch is something forbidden in his world, or if there’s some cultural component you hadn’t considered.  You know so little about him.

You try to touch him.  You test it.  One evening, when you hand him his portion of food, you brush your fingers against his wrist.

He reacts by jerking away from you, like you’ve burned him.  He drops his food in the dirt and lets out a bark of surprise.

Maybe he was just surprised.

Another time, when you are both lying down by the fire, preparing to sleep.  You use the excuse of the climate—this planet is far cooler than others you typically visit.  You wait until a long moment passes, until the fire dies off…and then you wriggle over closer to him.  Little by little until your shoulder is pressed against his.

He sits up, bolts into a sitting position the moment you touch him.

“Sorry,” you whisper.  “I…was cold.”

He doesn’t reply, but he pulls your fur closer to the fire, rearranges you and tucks it around you.  Banks the coals so they put out even heat.

Then, you swear he sighs.  He lies down a distance from you, and he sighs again.

-----

Two separate tests, two conclusive answers.

You apologize to him the next morning.  As he polishes his wicked blades, you stand nearby and apologize.  You try to explain, in the plainest words possible, that you misunderstood perhaps what the two of you are to each other.  You can feel the heat rise in your face as you speak, embarrassed by how whiny and childish you sound.  

He has his bio-mask on, so he looks blankly impassive as he watches you, but his voice is oddly gentle.  As he lets you down.

“You are not Yautja,” he explains.  

“Well, no…but I thought you knew that.”

He ignores your weak teasing.  

“I protect you, and you tell stories.”

“Yes.  Y-yeah, okay.”  

“It would kill you if I mated you,” he says, and he sounds almost kind.  Apologetic.

You shake your head faintly.  “No, I understand.  I just meant—"

He cuts you off.  “You are a very small and very weak ooman-di.  It would kill even the strongest ooman-di.”

There’s no point in trying to explain yourself.  No point in trying to explain that humans have all sorts of touch, and that you hadn’t been asking for….that.  That you only wanted a little closeness, to not always wrap yourself up in your furs each night alone.  

Your cheeks burn in humiliation.  Who would have thought you’d experience the same sort of rejection on an alien planet as you did on Earth?

“Yeah, got it.  Glad we, uh, cleared this up,” you mutter.  

*****

It was perhaps a bad idea to return to Earth for you.

He thought, at the time, that the cracked-open feeling in his chest would fade if he returned for you.  For a while, it did.  For a while, his chest felt too full, but not in a painful way, and he thought it was the consequence of having you with him again.

But now, the cracked-open feeling returns.  And worse than that, a restless irritation fills him when he’s with you for too long.  He cannot guess its source beyond you:  when he’s with you too long, you invade all of his senses.  The ooman scent of you, the sounds of you humming or singing, the sight of your soft body cooking or sparking a fire into life.  The sight of you wrapped in his furs at night, how you sometimes kick in your sleep, how your forehead furrows at whatever mad ooman dreams fill your skull, but how you sometimes also moan in your sleep, the sound alone enough to make his senses spark to life, but sometimes he can scent your arousal on those nights, and he must leave the light of the fire and stalk through the night until he calms.

The pained feeling in his chest, when you touch him and he recoils.  When he sees the sadness on your face.

The restless irritation when he stalks away because he wants your touch more than anything.  In the span of his long life, he’s never been so gently touched.  

It is an impossible thing.  He has to content himself with having you near him.  He cannot mate you:  for one, he could not give you pups.  For another, Yautja mating is a violent, painful thing.  He would not hurt you; he would not throw you in the dirt and overpower you.

He tries to explain the first part to you, later on when you’re both on his ship.  You blink at him, and he can see through his bio-mask how the blood rushes to your face and neck.  Oomans are so sensitive, and something about his explanation makes your temperature flare hotter.

“I understand,” you tell him, speaking slowly.  “Yautja…mating is just different from human mating.”

He nods, and the question only comes to him later, after he lands the ship on a new planet.

“What is ooman mating like?”

-----

Be’kan only understands some of it.  Your blood heats up to an alarming degree, and your words seem to fail because you are silent a long while before you start to speak.

You use words that are foreign to him, that have no translation into his mother tongue.  He makes you explain, makes you break each concept down to its most essential components until he understands.

Words like desire.  Pleasure.  Respect.  It takes so long to explain that your mouth gets dry, and you require much cool water before you can continue.

He’s always known that oomans are a crafty, cunning species.  It is their only advantage over the Yautja, the only thing that makes them worthy prey with their soft hides and soft claws and dull teeth.  Be’kan just never knew that the ooman inventiveness extended to mating.  To coupling.

It is so like your kind, to take the most basic imperative of any species—to continue the species, to breed—and turn it into pleasure.  Into fun.  Into some version of pain that leads to pleasure, and that takes Be’kan a long while to grasp.  

Much like how you, as a storyteller, take the facts of a story and embellish them with all of your fine ooman words, your kind takes the bare face of breeding and embellishes it.  You even have different words for the act, and your face flares hot and burning as you tell him those words.

Make love.  Have sex.  Fuck.

“What is the difference?” he asks, openly bewildered and you groan at him, pained, then ask for more water.

Afterwards, you hesitate, then ask him what Yautja mating is like, and he explains it.

How a Yautja male finds a female he deems suitable, then gifts her with a skull.  The more suitable the female, the more precious the skull—the best being the skull of a kiande amedha.  If the female accepts the skull, then the male is free to pursue her once her heat is upon her.  He accepts that if she is stronger, if she proves a better fighter, then he will die.  The female will kill him, and the species will be stronger for it.

“Sounds painful,” you murmur, and he admits that it is.  There is no soft touching, no soft words.  The only pleasure is that of a successful breeding, of continuing a bloodline.

So it’s a revelation, learning from his little ooman-di, that there could be another way.

*****

The change in him is subtle, at first.

At first, he only sleeps a little closer to you.  Within arm’s reach now (his arm, not yours).  

You suspect that when you’re asleep, he touches you.  Not in any way that’s inappropriate, but you guess that he touches perhaps your hand or arm when they stick out from under the fur.  Perhaps your face.  Perhaps your hair.

You also suspect that when he goes off to hunt, he’s not really hunting.  You suspect that he puts on his cloaking shield and stalks you—as you work around the campsite, as you tidy up.

As you bathe.

You know by now what it means to be prey.  When you go to the nearby water—the river or lake, depending on where you are—when you strip down and dive in, you can feel eyes on you.  His eyes.

Your long talk about….mating (the word makes you wince, embarrassed at how frank it had to be, for his sake) seems to have shifted something in him.  You still tell him stories each night, but he’s less attentive to what you say.  He seems fixated on you, staring hard at you, his small golden eyes unblinking as you make your way through the latest saga.  You’ve taken him back to earlier human stories, and you’re working through “Beowulf”—

“Will you touch me?” he asks, interrupting the part of the story when Grendel’s mother comes to avenge the death of her son.

You sputter at his question.  Gape at him a long moment.  Is he asking what you think he’s asking?

“W-where?” you ask, and he hesitates, then taps a blunt claw in the middle of his chest.  Where, theoretically, his heart lies.

You stand up and walk over to him.  Even sitting cross-legged as he is, he’s eye to eye with you where you stand in front of him.  You reach out a hand, pause, then lay your palm over the spot where he tapped.  And yes, that must be where his wild Yautja heart lies because you can feel it beating.

“Here?” you whisper, and he nods.  He makes a noise that sounds pained, almost a groan…but then he starts to purr, like a giant housecat content and lazing.

“It is like you said with ooman mating,” he growls, low.  “There is a pain there, but now there is also pleasure.”

You don’t question what he means and you don’t dare guess.  You stand there and watch as he shuts his eyes, as his mandibles flare and then settle.  You stand there a long while, hand over his heart, and when it’s finally time to retire for the night, he lies right beside you—pulls the length of your body against his larger one, tucks your head right against his heart.

*****

Yautja may not have the inborn inventiveness or imagination of the oomans, but they are extremely adaptable.  They learn from their mistakes.  They learn from their prey.

Be’kan learns from you.

He learns the pleasure of touch, though of course he has no way of knowing how chaste it is by ooman standards.  The feeling of your body tucked against his, the way it feels even more secure, like he can protect you even better.  The feeling of your hands on him—always slow to approach, tentative to touch.  Your hand on his chest, as he asked that night.  Your hand in his, your fragile fingers laced through his own.  

Once, you touch the sensitive appendages on his head—just a gentle touch, running your fingers through them—and the feeling is like a thunderbolt of want deep in his loins.  You have no way of knowing how sexual of a touch it is—how mating Yautja yank and pull against them.  Of course you wouldn’t know.  The appendages that grow from your head are soft, lifeless.  Ornamental.  They serve no purpose.

That touch—your gentle hand inextricably linked to the place where Yautja grab and yank and pull when they mate—once it’s in his head, he cannot dislodge it, no matter how he tries.

-----

Days later, back on his ship as you prepare to journey to a new planet, he asks you how oomans mate.

As always, your temperature raises, your heart rate increases.  He can sense all the ways you’re affected by his questions through his bio-mask, and he huffs out a breath, amused.  You are fragile in your form and your sensibilities.  

“Lots of ways,” you mumble.

“Explain.”

You sigh, and he sees you do that thing with your too-big eyes, the way you roll them in their sockets—at first he thought it a sign of distress, but he’s learned that it means irritation too.

“There are a lot of ways.”  You pause, sigh again.  “Aren’t there a lot of ways to kill your prey?  You shoot them, stab them, tear off their heads?  Human mating is like that.”

“Varied.”

“Yes.”

“Explain.”

He hears you heart.  He hears how it beats even faster, but then you explain the inventive, innovation oomans and the many ways they mate, the positions and more, how they can use every part of them to give and take pleasure—even their hands and mouths—and Be’kan sits in stunned silence for a long, long moment.

*****

Be’kan tells you that he has to leave you for a while, but he’s quick to allay your fear and say it’s not forever.  Not even for a very long time.

“I don’t see why you need to leave at all,” you tell him with a frown.

“I have a Hunt that is very dangerous.  It is too dangerous for you.”

“And where am I staying?”

As it turns out, you’re staying with his brothers.  He takes you to where they are, not hunting but resting and preparing for their next hunt, and Be’kan barks at them for a long while, furiously chitters and growls.  Once or twice, he cuffs them, then growls some more.

Then he returns to where you’re standing, uncertain.

“They will protect you.  They will make sure you are cared for.”  He pauses, tilts his head at you.  “They will not touch you.  I will be able to scent them if they do, and I will kill them if they do.”

“I don’t know why I can’t go with you.”

Away from where his brothers stand, he reaches out one of his giant hands and smooths it over your hair, tugs lightly against the ends.  “I would not risk you.”

“You’ll be careful?”

He growls.  “I will be victorious.”

-----

It’s hard to know how much time passes.  The planet you’re on seems to run long on the days, longer than on Earth.  You find yourself getting tired when it’s light outside, then waking up when it’s dark.  You’re disoriented, cranky.

Be’kan’s brothers are deferential, but still obviously curious about you.  They watch your every move, their cold masks tracking you around the campsite.  They also seem younger; they lack the calm dignity that your Yautja has.  One of their favorite things to do is to fight each other for your entertainment, like teenaged boys showing off.

You never know how to react, so when one is bleeding in the dirt, you clap politely, and that seems to please them.

Other nights, you tell them stories about warrior brothers (changing the story of “Lonesome Dove” to a story to obviously fit them), and that seems to please them even more.

-----

Be’kan returns soon enough, and you can see fresh scars on him.  His kind heal ridiculously fast, but there are white scars, barely healed, on his chest and shoulder.

He doesn’t say anything beyond offering his thanks to his brothers, then gestures at you to follow him back to his ship.

He doesn’t speak until you’re on your way to a new planet.  Once the coordinates are set, he stands up from his seat in the cockpit.  Gestures to you again, takes you to your shared sleeping quarters.  He reaches into a compartment, his back to you—and when he turns to face you, he has a skull in his hands.  A long alien skull, full of teeth.  Huge.  You hate to think what the creature looked like alive.

“A kiande amedha,” he says.  

Then he hands it to you.  Gifts it to you.  You know what it means, this gesture.  You know what it means to reject the gift, and what it means to accept it.

You accept it.

[snowyslytherinowl]

Joyous Nightmares - Part 1

PAIRING: Severus Snape x (Professor) Reader

SUMMARY: A year after surviving the Second Wizarding War, Severus Snape begins to have joyous nightmares where he dreams of having a wife and a daughter. These dreams bring him nightmares because he doesn't believe that he'll ever get married or have a family of his own. So what happens when the wife in his dreams is revealed to be you?

Warning: Nothing heavy, but there are some mentions of death. Angst and nightmares are also featured.  This is my first fanfiction for Harry Potter. I hope you enjoy it!

Part 2 | Part 3

*GIF isn't mine

Severus has had nightmares for as long as he can remember. As a child, he dreamt of his parents arguing and his father hitting him when drunk. Then his nightmares focused mainly on his rejection from Lily, and Potter and Black bullying him. Sometimes they would trip him in the hall, causing his trousers to fall off, and other times Potter would make him kiss the ground and eat the dirt while Lily watched. As he grew older, he dreamt of Lily’s death. After the Second Wizarding War, he relived his near-fatal attack by Nagini almost every night. But about a year after the war ends, Severus starts to have nightmares about a much different topic. 

Severus is sitting on his bed when he hears crying. He walks down a hall in a house, one that looks much different than the one in Spinner’s End, to the source of the crying: a baby. He opens the door at the end of the hall and sees a small infant flailing around the crib. Gingerly lifting the baby from the bed, he cradles the baby in his arm and places their head on his shoulder. He doesn’t know why or how, but he knows that the baby is a girl and that she’s his daughter. He gently bounces her up and down and sits in a rocking chair. 

“Hush now. Daddy is here,” he whispers and kisses her forehead. “You have nothing to fear. I will always protect you.” He holds the little girl closer to him, and soon she falls asleep in his arms. 

Severus wakes up in his bed in his private chamber at Hogwarts. Although he has dreamt of much more horrific, much more gruesome things, this dream leaves him feeling immensely worse. He has been bullied and seen death in the real world, so seeing it in his mind’s eye at night is no different than experiencing it. But dreaming of cradling his own tiny baby girl? That leaves him with a gaping hole in his heart, a hole he cannot mend because he will never have a family. Pathetic, greasy-haired Severus, forever condemned to loneliness. 

He pulls the covers back up his chest, turns on his side, and closes his eyes. No matter how much he tosses and turns that night, he can't fall asleep until dawn. 

XXX

Several nights later, Severus has a similar dream. 

He’s back in the same house. With a quick peek through the window, he can tell that this house is in the countryside with its green, sprawling valley. Severus turns to the little girl in the highchair, who is now eight or nine months old. He dips a spoon into a jar of baby food and tries to feed it to his daughter, who purses her lips and turns her head.

“Do not be picky. This is delicious,” he says and puts the spoonful of baby food into his mouth. No, he was lying about the delicious part. “Perhaps it does not taste good, but it is good for you. My Half-Blood Princess must grow to be healthy and strong.”

Even though his daughter giggles at her nickname, she still refuses to eat the food. “Fine. I did not want to fall into temptation, but you are forcing me.”

Severus takes a small cauldron from the cupboard, which is no bigger than a large bowl. He puts the jar of baby food and spoon into the cauldron and uses his wand to make steam rise from the cauldron. He swirls his wand over the cauldron, pretending to stir it, and casts a fake spell of gibberish words. 

Severus’s daughter breaks into a giggling fit and bounces up and down in her high seat. Severus can’t help but smile and laugh at her joy. He uses his wand to lift a spoonful of baby food from the cauldron and towards the little girl, who finally opens her mouth and eats. 

He never thought himself much of a fatherly figure, but these joyous nightmares have made him realize how desperately he wishes to have a family of his own. Every time he visits Hogsmeade, he stares at the small children accompanying their parents at shops or playing in the playground. Even though he doesn’t show much love to the people around him, he somehow knows that he would shower his own child with love and affection. 

Severus decides not to go back to sleep. There are two hours until he must make his way to the Great Hall and he still has essays to grade. Anything to get his mind off the baby, though a small cauldron in the corner of his room ensures that the hole in his heart remains open.

XXX

Over the next few months, Severus has dreams about his child almost every night. In every dream, he watches her grow up, even if it’s by a month or two. Nothing particularly profound happens; they merely participate in average daily activities. Once he dreams that she plays with a toy wand set that emits tiny colorful sparks. Another time she sits on his lap as he reads to her and wrestles his hair from her tiny fingers. That one makes him feel especially pained as he’s always felt insecure about his hair, and he can’t imagine a baby happily playing with it. 

After a particularly hard day of disciplining dunderheads and spilled potions, another person joins his dreams. 

Muggle baby strollers are quite the invention, Severus thinks as he pushes his sleeping daughter around the main square of the nearest town. Stores here display all types of clothes, as well as chocolate boxes and snack bags; however, he doesn’t see anything suitable for his wife’s birthday. 

Finally, Severus spots a beautiful dark green pendant through a jewelry shop’s window. An idea pops into his mind about how he can transform this simple Muggle pendant into something enchanting for his wife.

He buys it, then spends the rest of the day locked in his study working on magically connecting the pendant and a journal. He charms the pendant to heat up and display messages Severus writes in the journal. This way, Severus can send short messages to his wife no matter where he is. “I love you,” he writes in the journal and watches it slowly appear on the green gem. 

“What do you think?” he asks his daughter when he enters the living room. She giggles and grasps the chain of the necklace, which Severus takes as a yes.

“One day, I will give you one of your own, my Half-Blood Princess.”

A wife. A wife whom he loves. A wife that loves him, too, even if he has no proof to support his theory. A wife who he loves enough to have a baby with. A wife who he knows he will never have. 

Since he started having these joyous nightmares, he has recognized that the existence of a wife would appear at some point. Though when she finally does, he’s caught off guard. He thought that as an adult, he would finally grow out of the nervous, insecure person he was as a child. But he’s thought wrong; a fist squeezes his heart as he thinks about how lonely and unlovable he is. His hand wanders to the pillow on the other side of the bed as he imagines a wife lying beside him. He wishes that he could hold her, kiss her, and love her. But who would ever be attracted to his oily hair and sallow skin, or not be appalled by his deeds as he served the Dark Lord? 

Tears have threatened to spill after waking from his past dreams. This time, though, the tears overtake him and sobs wrack his body. 

XXX

Steps sound from around the corner. Severus prepares to berate the student he catches, but he stops short when he spots you. “Hi Severus, you can go to bed. It’s my night to patrol the corridors, remember?” 

Severus doesn’t have many friends at Hogwarts, or anywhere for that matter. But out of the few people he can rely on, you are one of them. You frequently eat lunch with him and sit beside him for meals. You’re always there for him to talk to, though you aren’t pushy. He appreciates you more than you likely appreciate him.  

“I know,” he says a little too harshly. “I thought I should help since I could not sleep.” Do not want to sleep is more like it, he thinks. 

You don’t take offense to his harsh tone. “That’s nice of you. Are you having nightmares, perhaps? Are the ghosts in your dreams giving you too much grief?” You give him a gentle smile and Severus feels a warmth spreading over his body. 

“I consumed too much caffeine,” he lies. 

“Don’t I know the dangers of drinking too much tea before I go to bed.” 

You two patrol the corridors as he listens to your stories of catching students out of bed and making fools of themselves in class. He rather enjoys being in your presence, a warm welcome from his joyous nightmares. 

It seems too soon when your patrol is over and you head in different directions to return to your chambers. Determined not to fall asleep, Severus spends the rest of his time until breakfast grading essays. He has never physically seen his dream wife; he only writes to her or prepares dinner or breakfast for her. Unfortunately, his eyes feel too heavy and he eventually succumbs to sleep. 

It’s a beautiful day and Severus chases after his daughter, who runs through the valley outside their house. He finally catches up with her when she drops to the ground, picking at something. “I got you!” he yells after he grabs his daughter and lifts her into his arms. 

“Daddy!” she giggles and presents him with the flowers she has picked. “For you!”

He takes the bundle from her dirt-stained hands and smiles down at her. “Thank you, sweetheart.” He places her back down on the ground and kneels beside her. “How about you pick some for Mummy?”

“Okay!” His daughter runs around a little more until she picks the largest flowers in the valley and gives them to her dad for safekeeping. He lifts her back into his arms and walks towards the house. 

In the distance, he can see a woman by their house. He knows that it’s his wife, but the light from the setting sun and the shadow from the house blocks him from seeing her features. Severus uses one of his hands to shield his eyes from the sun glaring into his eyes and tells his daughter, “Wave to Mummy!”

Severus checks the time and jumps to his feet. He strains to discern the identity of his dream wife based on his memories of the dream but to no avail. He arrives at the Great Hall, takes his seat beside you at the High Table, and attempts to compose himself as he digs into his food. Why are you living under the delusion that this dream woman is a real person? Severus tells himself in his mind. If you ever see what she looks like, she will be an imaginary woman who only lives in your head. 

For a split second, Severus peeks at you from the corner of his eyes and imagines you as his wife blinded by the light from the sun. Deciding that it’s a dangerous path to take, he snaps out of it and goes back to nibbling his toast. 

You catch him looking at you and you ask, “Are you alright, Severus? You look like you didn’t get any sleep!” Oddly, he enjoys the concern in your voice and the furrowing of your brows. 

“I am fine,” he brushes off, but you’ve already poured him coffee and waved your wand at it. 

“Take this. It should get you through the rest of the day.” Severus grunts thanks and takes a sip. Normally, coffee makes him feel shaky and nervous as he unwittingly recalls his joyous nightmares. This coffee tastes different; it's sweet and makes him feel like he will stay awake and alert for the rest of the day. 

You talk to each other about your plans for the day until you finish your food and stand from your seat. “I’ll see you later!” you call from behind. For some indiscernible reason, Severus is looking forward to that. 

[the-fandom-is-now-my-life]

Hi, hello, are you taking writing requests? 🥺 do you think you could write something with Haru? I don't really have anything in mind, so it can be whatever you feel like, fluff, yandere or smut (as long as it doesnt have a sad ending lol) (｡>﹏<｡) I'm desperate for some Haru stuff and I love your writing so much!!!

Be careful with snakes!

Haru had the nicest dream/hallucination after being bitten by a snake.

Wc: 1,9k

Notes: I wanted to follow the future family idea we had going on but it didn't end up being as much of a future as it was his inner wishes. But it's cute! Haru just wants a calm and domestic life here.

This took longer than I expected... ndjdj

Chillingly cold winds awaken Haru roughly, seeping through the white cotton button down and hitting his pale skin causing goosebumps. Opening his eyes just enough to see sunlight above him almost completely obscured by the leafy treetops, he comes with the most likely possibility.

“Did I pass out again?” Haru scratches the nape of his neck, he was using his stigma pretty frequently lately and he might have skipped dinner and breakfast before using it today but it was unlikely that he passed out just because he was low on glucose, he has used it in worse condition and came out pretty alive!

Even then, he guesses it's better to cut possible losses short, drag himself to the dorm and do some damage control with the anomalies because it's very unlikely that Towa or Ren suddenly got the calling to help around for once.

Looking around, what does feel unsettling even if just a second is how different the forest area looks compared to the last time he scouted the area. The terrain uncharacteristically steep compared to the usually plain jabberwock and the weirdly vast amount of fir and spruce when most of the trees were oak or anomalous species. 

Regardless, he brushes off whatever worry he could conceive. It isn't abnormal for Jabberwock to experiment sudden changes to account for new anomalies entering and leaving it, that could easily explain the trees and plants and the geography, while harder to change, it's still possible.

What was more concerning was his overall disorientation, if he could get to his dorm that would be great, did he walk towards or against the sun? He doesn't even remember how he managed to get himself here.

While looking down at the dry and rocky dirt trying to find footsteps a familiar voice presents itself as a better clue.

“Hey, stop it, be nice” the familiar childish reproach that you would tell to the miniature rams when they fought for territory, even when he explained they were totally grown and it was normal for them to fight, reaches his ears and he lets out a sigh in relief, he could at least trust in you to take care of some anomalies even if just for a little while.

As much as he loves his housemates he can't lie and say they are good at anomalously animals husbandry, Towa is quite a ditz and forgets feeding times and what each anomaly can eat -and tends to electrocute them but he doesn't know that- and Ren refuses to work around aquatic areas and if forced to he will audibly whine while doing it.

Still, knowing that you didn't have any real powers to protect yourself if any of the anomalies got rowdy, he decides to slide down the face of the mountain to where your voice is, maybe you will be able to guide him back to the dorm or explain to him what was happening. Sadly, he has to slide normally down the vertiginous terrain without using bahnti, it wouldn't be helpful to black out again and the heaviness settled in his head didn't give him a positive outlook. 

Angling down his foot just right and working along gravity, Haru starts surfing down a wave of dirt and rocks while dodging the branches and stumps on the way down the slope and soon enough reaches the foot of the mountain with slightly dirty clothes.

At the foot there is a small area blending the sharp and angular mountain range and a somewhat plain surface spotting a cozy cabin. Around it there was a grown up Peekaboo and a log thrown in the dirt, where you were seated holding a white fluff. 

That was Peekaboo! How did he not notice he wasn't in his baby carrier?! His hand lingers on his abdomen but he doesn't feel the fabric of the carrier, it must have fallen off and you found his little one.

“Natsu, you can't hurry how fast Pukaboo eats, he will get a tummy ache otherwise” you tell calmly but firmly to someone behind you. As Haru walks closer he sees a redheaded kid no older than 4 hanging from the same arm holding the bottle.

After walking a few meters away from the thickest part of the forest he seems to have caught your attention finally, if the way your head snapped up is anything to go by. With a smile on your lips you usher the kid away.

“There is your papa, why don't you help him feed peekaboo” and in 2  seconds a kid smashes face first against his abdomen and pulls him towards the big white fluff. As it unrolls from the furry sphere, it seems to perk up when it sees him, nudging its head against his leg. As he went to pet it the child pulled his hand back.

“Don’t pet him, papa, Peekaboo ate my chia pet! I hate him now” at the harsh words the creature whimpers, offended. His Peekaboo does make a habit of eating wild plants whenever Haru isn't monitoring his playtime but this is obviously a grown up of the same species, not a little baby.

“Peekaboo? But this little dude is huge! Peekaboo is small enough to carry” he laughs while scratching his neck. 

“Hm? Silly papa, Pukaboo is the tiny one, Peekaboo always was biggg” and almost to make a point the child extends his arms wide on the last word. The grown Peekaboo, supposedly his Peekaboo, keeps looking at him expectantly and tilts his fluffy head in just the same angle his baby would when begging for treats or scratches.

“Natsu, how do you intend to feed peekaboo without food? Go inside and get your dad the lettuce, it's in the kitchen sink” now finished feeding what Haru thought was his peekaboo you started walking towards them with the cub in your arms. 

Natsu slides away, a smile splitting his face in two, such a helpful kid, Haru can't help but think that he almost wishes Ren was as eager to help as him.

Watching as the cub is put down next to its father  and how quickly it hurries under his fur to hide from the cold and, without thinking about it, Haru laughs loudly. Even if anomalies weren't pets he himself admitted they were particularly cute when the temperature starts to drop. And they start being less aggressive and bite-y.

“Just like Natsu when he was a baby, don't you think? He would usually fight with Pukaboo to see who snuggled under your arm” in a friendly gesture your elbow him but soon your playful tone turns sober, and your eyes darken with worry “did something happen? You left before breakfast without even leaving a note” 

He stays uncharacteristically quiet, what could he even say? He doesn't even remember why he was out and about in the first place but you seem to have taken his silence as bad news.

“Did the new specimen not adapt well to here?”

“Ah, it's not that!”

With a sigh of relief you giggle “Did the director try to get you to act like a forest ranger for the normal part of the park? He never learns, huh?” linking your arms you start dragging him to the cabin, speaking lightheartedly about what he would like to eat, how you fed the anomalies or how fast Pukaboo and Natsu are growing.

Allowing himself to be dragged inside, into the welcoming warmth emanating from the fireplace and his family, the heavy knots tied inside his muscles relax feeling belonging in the little cozy home.

Hanging by the small foyer, you urge him to take off his muddied mountain boots to not drag dirt inside and he compiles without a word, sliding with his white socks on the hardwood floors.

“Daaaaad, can you help me open this?” the little redhead approaches him jumping with a little tin can on his hands but you snatch it.

“You can't eat sweets before lunch”

“But dad always eats gummies before leaving” 

“Those are collagen gummies for his joints, not sweet ones” The kid pouts and runs off to his room, in response you only roll your eyes and return the treat to the kitchen cabinets “you need to eat something. There is toast, some cereal…”

“Cereal is good” it isn't often that he gets hounded to take care of himself, Elias would sometimes tell him off for overexerting himself or peel him apples whenever he inevitably ended up in the infirmary, but the fuzzy tingling in his chest at being taken cared of by someone else tickles a part of his brain so nicely. 

Allowing himself to be swayed by the arm pulling him into your arms and down to the sofa, he feels coddled like a sick little child.

A hand rakes his hair while both of you look at the empty wall in front of the sofa until a tiny bit squeaky voice whines.

“Hey! Don't cuddle without me!” your kid's voice whines as he throws himself at his dad's stomach, attempting to burrow between his parents and almost making the bowl slip from Haru's hands.

“Be careful! You are going to make a mess with the milk!” Even as you chastise him you still throw an end of the blanket over his head, encouraging him to burrow further and you yourself lay your head on Haru's, making a sort of cocoon with hugs and blankets.

Your warm breath as you laugh fans against his skin causing goosebumps but he leans against you, cheek resting against your collarbone and his ear just snug enough against your skin to catch the heartbeat lying under it. 

“Haru?” You ask him and he lets out an acknowledging hum but you don't relent “Haru? Haru, Haru?”

With each repetition of his name it almost feels like you are getting further and further away from him. It isn't like he would be able to check, his eyelids suddenly weighted down like concrete. Being unable to open his eyes makes Haru notice how the rest of his body is also too heavy to move even one inch.

A heavy hand grasps his forearm, turning it around to show the inner side and pricks the skin to inject something making him progressively harder to hang onto his consciousness. A string of tiny whispers reaches his ears.

“He still doesn't wake up” 

“If you account for his less than optimal sleep schedule and the hyperpyrexia from the venom it isn't weird he is still out. Why don't you return to class?” 

“Are you sure? I would like to see him wake up before leaving though” 

“Luckily you brought him soon enough but he still needs to rest” 

 The sun is settling down the horizon when Haru wakes up for good, no more fog clouding his mind and his muscles working as he intends. He is able to sit up before a mortkraken student notices he is awake. 

“Oh, good, you are finally up”

“Did something happen?”

“seems like one of the snake like anomalies bit you” her eyes screen a piece of paper Haru guesses is his medical record. He does remember having to feed the tsuchinoko hatchlings, it is likely that one of them grew its fangs and bit his ankle without him noticing.

“Even if you are a ghoul you should take care of yourself, you know”

Without paying her much mind he says but gets brushed off “I had such a weird dream”

“The venom or the fever might have made you hallucinate, was it at least a nice dream?”

"very nice"  

[love-and-monsters]

The Pit and the Serpent

M Naga X GN reader, 11047 words

Content warning: discussions of rape/sexual coercion, sexual coercion described with minimal detail, descriptions of a cult.

You have been sentenced to death. You are going to be fed to the beast in the pit. Unless, of course, the beast does not eat the ones given to it.

Sweat beaded on the back of your neck as you took another trembling step forward. A knife sat against the small of your back. The threat wasn’t that they would kill you- they didn’t have to. A quick slice to the small of your back would have your legs useless. They could leave you to die, limp and pathetic, at the claws of the creature in the pen. The only reason they hadn’t done it at all was that it was a lot less work to have you walk than to drag your limp body in.

The pen loomed in front of you. It wasn’t much of a pen, to be honest. It was more of a pit, with barbed wire fence surrounding it. People didn’t approach it- in fact, there isn’t anyone within a hundred feet. Just you and the soldier nudging you ever closer.

As soon as you were past the gate, the soldier slammed it shut and stepped back, almost a scramble. There was no reason for him to be near you anymore. There was only a tiny strip of land surrounding the dropoff of the pit, and you couldn’t climb back out over the fence thanks to the barbed wire. You probably couldn’t even if there wasn’t barbed wire. You’d never been athletic.

You hunched down on the little area you had, knees tucked close to your chest to avoid the drop. No limbs dangling. The image of letting an arm or leg hang over the opening and something grabbing you, like a monster under the bed, rose in your mind.

You sat on the edge of the pit all throughout the scorching afternoon, dripping sweat into a small puddle in the dirt below you. The sun set and the chill of night against your sweaty skin made you shiver. The thing in the pit hadn’t moved. Was it nocturnal? You’d never seen a feeding before. Maybe you should have. Maybe that would have discouraged you from-

The thing in the pit moved. You heard it shifting before you saw it, the great shadow twisting and slinking until a tendril of it was lifting out of the pit and stretching slowly toward you. You scrambled back until the barbed wire dug into your skin, uncaring of exactly how rusty it was. Of course it didn’t matter. You were going to die, right now, and a little tetanus hardly compared to exactly how this thing was going to rip you to shreds.

Its head dropped into your line of sight, close enough that you could make out some features despite the lack of light. You stared. You had been expecting a mouth- they called it a feeding, after all. Not strange at all to imagine you were about to be eaten. And there was a mouth. It was just attached to a human face. Which was attached to a human head. Which was attached to a human torso. Which was not attached to human hips, but to the body of an enormous snake. Like, a huge snake. Like, at-least-40-feet-long snake.

It yawned. Fangs, long and thin, just where canines would be in a human mouth, glinted in the faint moonlight. Then it slumped downward, flopping to rest its torso on the edge of the pit right next to you.

It blinked at you. The light was dim enough that you couldn’t see the color of its eyes, but the white gleaming in the moonlight told you it was staring right at you. “Hello there.”

You stared back. He didn’t seem like he was going to eat you. He didn’t seem big enough to eat you. You’d been expecting an enormous snake mouth, something appropriate for the enormous thing, something that could swallow you whole. But this was… well, the person-part of the snake was bigger thana typical human, but not by that much. Its mouth was far too small to eat you effectively. Then again, you were smaller than a cow, and you ate those, so perhaps the creature was simply going to drag you into its pit and eat you little by little. You hoped it killed you quickly, at least- getting slowly eaten seemed like the worst possible way to die.

“You aren’t much of a talker, are you,” the serpent groused. His mass of coils shifted slowly, undulating in the pit beneath. You couldn’t make out the individual coils with the distance and the darkness- it just looked like a shifting, twisting mass. The serpent moved closer, practically hovering in front of you, using his muscular trunk as support. “Ain’t much to look at, are ya?” He spoke in a drawling, lazy tone. “Can’t imagine ya did anything impressive to get stuck in here. Are they finally chucking the dissidents down here instead of shoving them into the reeducation work prison?”

“Thievery.” You forced the word up through your dry throat and mouth. The serpent fixed his gaze back on you. “I- I took something that wasn’t mine to take.”

“Huh.” He slumped back to the ground next to you, propping his chin up on his fist. “Why?”

You ground your teeth. “He… took something from me, first. So, I wanted to take something from him. But I got caught.”

The serpent nodded. “A little thief, then? I suppose they would throw you in here for that.”

You eyed him as he stretched. The question was stupid, but you couldn’t help yourself from asking it. “Aren’t you going to eat me?”

He was mid-yawn when you asked, and blinked one eye open to look at you. “Am I supposed to?”

You paused. Everyone called it a ‘feeding’ when people were put in the pit. People who went for feedings were never seen again. What else was happening expect for them being eaten? “I think so.”

“Perhaps,” he said, “I’m not hungry today.” He slumped back toward the pit, slinking down and vanishing in the mass of his own coils.

You stared. And shivered. Your sweat was still drying on your skin in the chilly night air and the hot terror was fading. The creature had emerged from the pit, you’d had a pleasant (if you stretched the definition of the word) chat, and then it had left.

That was… not what was supposed to happen. You’d seen people be taken away to the pit- you’d never seen them actually go in, of course, the pit was nearly three hours away from the town by walking, and you’d never had reason to go in a car until today. Yesterday. Was it past midnight? They never came back. Did the creature ever eat anyone? It must, or they wouldn’t have bothered with the pit at all. They could just shoot people. Or stab them, if wasted bullets were a concern. Why go through the whole rigamarole of taking people out here and then leaving them alive for the creature if it didn’t eat them?

But if it did eat them, why hadn’t it eaten you?

It got late for a while, and then it was so late that it looped around to being early. The sun started to stretch thin tendrils of light over the horizon. Your stomach growled. You had to pee. Your legs were cramping from being in the same position for so long. Were the guards going to come back? Did they come back for the prisoners, if only to see if there were any bones or limbs left? Or were you just trapped out here until you died of thirst or the creature decided it was hungry after all and ate you?

(It had better hurry the hell up, you decided. If it waited until you died of natural causes, t would probably have a tough, unpleasant meal. Your somewhat-delirious mind found that idea funny.)

It was less funny when a hand wrapped around your ankle and hauled you bodily toward the pit.

The entire thing was fast. One second you were registering the warm hand on your skin, and the next you were being dragged down a slope. You caught a glimpse of your captor’s face, too dark to make out expressions, before you were hauled under a mass of coils.

They weren’t cold to the touch, though they weren’t warm, either. You could feel the ridges of the scales, each one nearly the size of your palm. It was heavy, a weight that nearly knocked the breath out of you, though their constant shifting helped lessen that impact. It wasn’t crushing, though, and you could feel the hard-packed dirt under your back. Strange. You would have thought they’d be coiling around you to crush you. Even just being underneath them, you could tell they were powerful enough to do it. You could feel the power of the muscles just from minute movements alone.

“Stop panicking!” The voice came a lot closer to your ear than you’d expected and you struck out. Maybe he’d been expecting it, because your first hit a wall of scaly flesh.’ “I ain’t gonna hurt ya, if you don’t try to hurt me again.”

You stopped moving. The serpent huffed out a breath, and you felt the edges of it against your… temple, on your right side. He was partially concealed by one of his own coils, but he was there. “Sorry for the delay, sweetcheeks. Woulda taken you down here right away, but we’ve had some problems recently. Delays. You’ll find out soon, anyway.”

You didn’t understand, but bemoaning that lack of understanding seemed like the worst possible move at the moment. Instead, you flipped onto your stomach and started army crawling back toward the wall of the pit. The coils were heavy, but not crushing, at least not at the moment. You were going to crawl and get out of the pit, and what you were going to do then could be decided after you got out.

“Woah.” The hand was on your back now, having gotten a fistful of your shirt. Well, it was more of a dress-tunic than a shirt, one of the ones that was both oversized and stretched, and made more out of patches than material. They could have made you go into the pit naked, but you suspected that this made a convenient excuse to get rid of something no one really wanted. You thrashed against the grip and, sure enough, the tunic ripped with ease. Before you could continue your mad crawl, the hand managed to lock around your calf. “Woah, woah! Where do ya think you’re going?”

You try to continue forward at the pace of a determined slug. The hand on your leg is doing a good job of hindering that, though. “Quit freaking out! Sorry I scared ya, but I said before, I ain’t gonna hurt ya, so stop it!”

In fairness, he wasn’t hurting you at that moment. He could have, certainly- his coils could have crushed you by weight alone, if he’d dropped them on you, but he just lay them across your path, effectively blocking your way unless you wanted to crawl over him. The hand around your calf remained firm, a grip tight enough to almost bruise, but not vicious. More like he was just desperate to keep you from squirming away.

Surrounded by coils of snake and held fast by the grip on your leg, you finally went still. You were flat on your stomach, so the dust, of course, immediately went up your nose and you snorted out an awkward sneeze. The serpent’s human part moved forward, almost hovering over you, suspended by its muscular trunk. He folded his arms over his chest, no longer holding onto you. “Didn’t mean to scare ya that bad. S’pose I should’ve been more forthcoming, but ya don’t get much fun out here, y’know?” He shrugged. “Sorry. Kinda a fighter, aren’t ya, though? Most people just curl into a ball and scream.”

You stared at him. He was silhouetted by moonlight, so you could make out his long, somewhat tangled black hair and his dark brown skin. There were a few patches of scales on his belly, creeping up from where his snake body ended. “I thought,” you said, after a moment of thought, “that you were going to eat me.”

He shrugged. “I’m not.”

That had become pretty clear. Unless this was a game, though you couldn’t see the point of it, if it was. “Then what are you going to do?”

He grinned, at that. His canines were still too long and sharp, more like a snake’s than a human’s- though still not totally like either. “Look.”

He turned his body to point at a spot beyond the shifting weight of his coils. In the wall of the pit, there was… a hole.

It wasn’t a big hole. Large enough for a person to fit through, provided they were crawling and not standing up straight. It sloped a little, down into the ground. The idea of it made you shudder. Perhaps the serpent didn’t pick up on that, because he said, “You’re going to go in there.”

“I’m not,” you insisted. The serpent considered you for a moment, not quite irritated, but certainly not pleased.

“Ya are,” he said. “Unless you’re plannin’ on staying here and dyin’ when they come back and find ya completely uneaten.”

You glared. “Fine.” The serpent nodded, clearly believing you meant ‘fine, I’ll go in there.’ His expression changed to plain annoyance when you, through lack of motion, convinced him that you meant ‘fine, I’ll stay here and die.”

“You’re claustrophobic,” he reasoned. You glared. It was true, but you didn’t like it. The idea of close earth, pressing in on you- unbearable. The idea of having nowhere to run, nowhere to go or flee to, no open space within which to seek safety-

“Alright, alright! Don’t- don’t do that, just- Damn, this makes it much harder than I thought it was gonna be.” The serpent patted awkwardly at your shoulder. You squirmed away from his touch and he held his hands up. Your breathing, which had spun wildly out of control for a moment, dropped back to a steady (or at least steadier) rhythm. “Look. The only way out of here is through the tunnel. It’s only twenty feet of tunnel, and once you’re through that, it’s not so tight.”

“I can’t get through the twenty feet,” you ground out. Even three feet, less than your body length, would be close to intolerable. As long as your head and arms were trapped, there was panic.

The serpent heaved a sigh. “Erg… You’re gonna have to.”

“I can’t.” Clearly, he was slow. Otherwise, he would be getting that it was physically impossible for you to do so. You could not, unless under immediate threat of death, force yourself through it. And maybe not even that.

The serpent rubbed his face. “Sonova- If you get caught, I’m gonna be fucked too, y’know?” His coils shifted, lifting and writhing. Above you, through the gaps in his coils, you could see the sky lightening. It was going to be day soon. That seemed to be agitating him. “Okay. You’re not gonna like this, but we’re doing it anyway.”

You stiffened. “We’re not going to-”

The serpent seized you by hooking an arm under your armpits and hauled. You were half lifted off the ground and pulled toward the hole in the wall. Panic seized you and you started to kick your legs. The serpent wholly ignored you. For a moment, you wondered about how he was going to manage to pull you through- there wasn’t enough space for both of you to fit going through at the same time.

It was a question that was quickly answered. As you got within a foot of the hole, he dropped you and plunged in himself.

Within seconds, his human part was gone, leaving only his snake portion, It flowed in and in and in, an endless-seeming mass of scaled flesh moving into the tunnel. It was almost hypnotic. So hypnotic, in fact, that you didn’t register it when the last foot or so of his tail wrapped around your legs and hauled you into the tunnel after him.

It happened fast- one second you were just registering the fact that you were moving, the next you were in the tunnel with the walls pressing close in on you. The press of the walls, combined with the warm squeeze of the serpent’s tail around you was- was- your brain scrambled, sheer terror blotting out every thought you could have summoned up.

And then the walls lessened. Not a lot, but their squeeze was reduced. The tail wrapped around you, so tight you couldn’t move your arms or legs, was still bad, but the walls weren’t so tight. Lifting your head didn’t whack it on the ceiling anymore, and you couldn’t feel your shoulders rubbing against the walls. You felt the movement of air on your legs first, and then you were pulled into a bright, open room.

The made your eyes tear up. You squeezed them shut against it. The tail around your body relaxed, drawing away. The sheer relief was incredible, so much that you couldn’t bring yourself to move. You lay there, gasping and shivering on the floor, eyes squeezed shut. Your brain was so utterly scrambled that you didn’t even question why there were bright lights underground for a few minutes.

People talking, though, that got your attention.

“I’m gonna need to be back out there in a couple minutes, just in case they come lookin’,” the serpent was saying.

“Of course. Though you really couldn’t have thought of a better solution? Or explained more?” The second voice was female, probably older by the sound of it. Kind of weary, too. You blinked your eyes open. The serpent was coiled as tight as he was able, and was bending to speak to an older woman, brown hair shot through with gray, in something like a lab coat.

“You were the ones delayin’ everything.”

“Well, you could have told her in the meantime. You didn’t have to wait for us to be ready.”

The serpent grimaced. “Sure, if I wasn’t so busy prepping the tunnel. It’s not easy to dig that shit back out every time you guys want to-”

“Who are you?” Your voice wasn’t a yell, but it wasn’t quiet. The conversation stopped. Both of them looked at you.

The woman straightened out her lab coat. It was a bit stained and yellowed in some places, and there was a button missing. “My name is Elise Markov. This-” She gestured to the massive serpent-person beside her. “-Is Hana. I apologize for… well, for him.” He clucked his tongue. “Hush. You should be kinder to our new arrivals.”

“Perhaps.” Hana flexed his tail. “It’s not like I get much practice with people, trapped up there without-”

“Speaking of,” Elise said, cutting him off. He fell silent, sulky. “You should go back up. You were saying they might be back soon.”

Hana grimaced but he obediently slipped toward the tunnel. After a few moments, his tail was vanishing into the tunnel. Elise watched him go, then headed over to you. “Come along. I will explain on the way.”

Getting up gave you a chance to look a little more around the room. It wasn’t terribly big, maybe about the size of a single room in a house, and lit entirely by floodlights. Another tunnel, this one much larger than the one you had entered through, allowed you to exit the room. You could stand up in it, and almost extend your arms before hitting the wall while inside, it, so the terror was only a minor scream in the back of your mind.

As you walked, Elise explained. “We have been out here since the, well, apocalypse, for lack of a better term, recruiting as we can. Sometimes we take in runaways, sometimes strays, sometimes people like you- people who have been set to death by the various collectives and compounds that now litter the world. You will stay here now, and work with us. There will be a task you can do, I assure you, be it caring for the assets or cooking food or cleaning.”

You trotted along after her. “I don’t underst-”

“I’m aware. You will.” Elise’s tone was clipped. “For now, just know that you are safe and you will remain safe for the foreseeable future. We have an organization, relative protection, and, the basic necessities of life.”

Well. Good enough for you. It was significantly better to have a place that didn’t want to kill you. At least, not immediately.

The tunnel went on for what must have been at least a few miles. Your legs ached and you felt dizzy. It had been some time since you’d had proper food. You swayed, exhausted, even as Elise kept up her ruthless pace. Eventually, the tunnel opened up into a tall, illuminated room. You hurried toward it, ready for your journey to end, and-

There were people. Many of them wore lab coats, like Elise, though they were all about as dirty as Elise’s as well. But there were also many… things. Creatures. Beasts you couldn’t understand. One of them, a creature with the torso of a human, but the lower body of a massive, pale spider approached. “Ah, Thierry. If you could-”

You were taken to a room and told it was yours. It was a tiny room, big enough for a bed and a hanging rack of clothes. But it was at least nicer than the communal bunks you’d had previously. You didn’t feel comfortable sleeping with other people.

After a full day of resting, and a fairly simple meal of vegetables and a biscuit, you were given the beginnings of orientation. It was fairly extensive, starting at the exact moment the world fell apart, about ten years ago.

The end of the world was something you remembered, though not in any great detail. It hadn’t been an abrupt thing, like it always was in dystopian fiction. It had just been, over the course of a few years, a gradual downturn of things getting worse until you were in a barrack with a couple dozen other people and you realized you had no hope of anything ever getting better. The world had just seemed to get more and more frightened of everything going on, more desperate and sad and clawing until everything had been torn to shreds.

Apparently, that hadn’t quite been an accident.

The details were vague- you weren’t sure if that was because the details were unknown, or if the people in charge just didn’t want you to know them. But the government (or several governments- again, the details were unclear) had been running experiments on fear. Fear was, after all, one of the most effective motivators ad weapons ever known. Enough fear could kill, could make a person commit atrocities. And so, it needed to be studied, understood, and potentially weaponized.

After years of research, they had managed to create… something. Tapped into some collective unconscious, some extra-physical resource, and created, from humans, creatures that embodied the fears of the world.

The outpouring of fear from their initial creation spread the world over. It wasn’t strong, but it lingered, like background radiation in the minds of everyone on the planet. And that fear drove everyone to the brink of madness and destruction. Even after the initial burst of it settled, everyone had already settled into their new lives and routines too thoroughly to go back.

This particular organization had been created by a small group of the scientists who’d escaped the panic-induced deaths of everyone who’d worked on the initial project. They’d managed to gather a small group of the fear-creatures, who worked with them, as much as they could.

You even got to meet a few of them. All of them seemed to embody a specific type of fear, usually a phobia. Thierry, the spider-person you’d met initially was the embodiment of arachnophobia. There was a person who seemed to be entirely made of water that represented thassolophobia, though you saw her pretty infrequently. Her proper body took up a massive swimming pool that had needed to be dug out special. The only time you saw her was when she sent out a segment of her body that was roughly person sized and shaped, something that was apparently difficult and uncomfortable to do. Another person, a hulking figure of dirt with a hole in their middle that seemed to constantly draw your eyes and body, represented claustrophobia. You didn’t go near him often.

Of course, your Hana was representative of a fear of snakes. Never a fear you’d had, but you could see how he would be horrific for someone who was afraid of scaly ropes.

He was apparently a recruiter, of some description. His capture by your old compound was an accident, but given that he was regularly fed a stream of dissenters, he could smuggle people they determined to be relatively safe out of the pit. Apparently your thievery was determined to be a non-harmful pastime that earned you a free ticket out.

You were told all this by the person you were supposed to be shadowing, a middle-aged woman who had been in this little group since just after its founding. You followed her around while she showed you how to do a variety of tasks. Mostly cleaning or fetching things for other people. A day after you’d arrived, she handed you a massive tray of raw meat and gestured for your to follow her.

“This will likely be one of your tasks on a daily basis,” she said. “Along with general cleaning. I assume you’re willing to complete janitorial tasks.”

Her tone said ‘you don’t think you’re too good for this, right?’ with an undertone of ‘because if you do, we’re going to have problems.’ “I’m fine with it,” you said. You legitimately didn’t have a problem with it. It wasn’t any different from the shit you’d been doing at the compound.

You walked through a familiar hall that opened into a familiar, cavernous room. You had to switch the floodlights on. Obviously you didn’t have the power to run them all the time.

“Mind warning me before you do that?” Hana groused, half covering his face with his hand. “Oh, it’s you!”

You nodded. “It’s… good to see you again?”

“Sure. Glad you’re doin’ all right,” Hana said. “Ya gonna give me the food or what?”

Your supervisor left at that moment, telling you to bring the tray back to the kitchens when you were done, since she needed to take care of something. Everyone seemed busy all the time. Probably took a lot of work to run the place. You’d probably be busy too, once you were more settled in.

Hana didn’t really chew his food. He just swallowed big chunks at once, like- well, like a snake. It was impressive, but also kind of gross to watch. “Guess you’ve decided to stay,” he said between huge mouthfuls.

“What other options do I have?” you asked back, complete rhetorical.

He decided to answer it anyway, though. “Out there.” He gestured vaguely toward the ceiling with an expansive motion. “Y’know. Anywhere out there.”

“I’d die,” you said. Society might have collapsed when you were a teen, but the past ten years or so, you’d been hopping from little settlement to little settlement. You didn’t have the skills or the tools to survive on your own in the wilderness.

“You might live,” he said. “It’s a lot of scrubland, but I ‘member people saying there’s root vegetables and stuff growin’ out there. You could eat those.”

“Not without cooking them. I can’t actually identify any of them, either. I’d probably eat something toxic by accident. Or get caught by marauders. Or the wild dog packs.” A lot of people had dogs before the apocalypse. A lot of those dogs didn’t have people anymore by the time things settled. And, well, dogs are descended from wolves. In times of necessity, a lot of them just remembered what they used to be. Packs of larger dogs could be a real issue, especially because no one was giving out rabies vaccines anymore.

“Maybe,” Hana allowed. “Maybe not.” He swallowed another chunk of meat. “Maybe ya could befriend a dog and get it to bring ya meat. They can hunt, right? And they’re stupid loyal?”

You laughed a little. “Have you never met a dog before?”

“Nah. Where would I have seen one, huh?” Hana paused, tapping a finger on his chin. There’s a thin line of meat-juice running along it. “Hm. Though I guess I could have seen one and not realized it, ‘cause I don’t really know what they look like.”

“You’ve never even seen a dog?” you asked. “Not even before you were changed into-” You skittered to a stop, not quite managing to pause the words before they’re almost all out. Oops. You didn’t mean to do that. It was probably a rather touchy subject for him.

He shrugged, still eating. “Nah. Don’t remember a thing before I got all scaly.” He gestures to his waist. A majority of his body is still stretching up through the tunnel and out into the pit, but there’s enough there to see his dark scales. “Probably good, though, huh? Can’t imagine turnin’ into this was a fun time for me.”             “You don’t remember what it was like to be human at all?” you asked. He fixed you with an irritated look.

“I just said I didn’t. Open your ears. I remember some stuff, clearly. Like, I woke up knowin’ English and what the sky and grass was an’ all that.”

“But not dogs,” you mused. He gave you a wry, somewhat irritated expression.

“No. Not dogs.”

Hm. That was interesting. You mulled that over while he finished his meal. Once he was done, you gathered up the dishes. “See ya around,” he said, waving.

As if turned out, you did see him after that quite often. Your initial tasks seemed to be focused on delivering food to the ‘phobic assets.’ Not all of them were still human enough to eat, but the ones who had fused with animals definitely needed to. Thierry was your favorite. He was typically quite polite, and you’d never had any issue with spiders before, so his spider half was a source of fascination rather than disgust.

Hana was always waiting for you when you brought food to him, and he always stuck around to chat for as long as you wanted. Maybe he was lonely, or maybe he was just bored. But he always listened attentively, and given that everyone else was rushing around all the time, speaking to him was nearly the highlight of your day.

“I mean, it’s nicer being here than it was being there, obviously. I just wish people weren’t so…” You waved a hand. “I don’t know. Rushed? At least I felt like I was a part of a community over there. We all had meals together and we talked and worked together. Here, it’s just different. I don’t think I’ve had a conversation with anyone except a couple people for more than two minutes.”

“Everyone’s trying to save the world. Makes ‘em busy. Plus, you’re kinda an outsider. It’ll take a while to get you on their radar. Or into their precious schedules.” Hana shrugged, gulping down his meal with reckless abandon. “Who’s the second?”

“Huh?” He had a habit of jumping topics like that. It was hard to keep up.

“Ya said there were two people ya could have conversations longer than two minutes. One’s me. Who’s the other?”

“Oh. Thierry.” To your surprise, Hana’s face contorted into a sulky expression.

“Thierry? Really? That pompous spider prick?” He shifted and you could hear distant thumping, like he was slapping the end of his tail against the ground.

“What’s wrong with Thierry?” you asked, creeping back a little. He didn’t seem overly pissed, but it was probably best to get out of the way. Just in case.

“He’s stuck up. Thinks he’s so good ‘cause he’s the embodiment of some massive fear and he’s the one who works the closest with all the scientists.” Hana rolled his eyes so aggressively you were surprised he didn’t strain something.

“He’s nice to me,” you said. Hana grumbled incoherently, tail thumping. One of his hands dug furrows in the dirt. You watched his fingers as they made the scraping motions over and over. Something in your brain itched, drawing up the image of those strong fingers seizing you and squeezing until it hurt as you kicked against it-

The room was large. But the walls felt too much like they were pressing in on you.

The tray was empty and you hurried forward to grab it before jolting back to the door. Hana looked up from his sulking, alarm and maybe concern crossing his face. “Wh- Ya doin’ okay?”

“Yes.” The word came out steady, but mechanical in its steadiness. It almost hissed past your lips. Hana started to lift himself up, pulling more of his massive serpent’s tail in through the hole in order to support himself. You scrambled back from his rapidly more imposing form.

“Woah, easy there. I didn’t mean to startle ya.” He held his hands up, but that made him look even more imposing. “Uh. Maybe you should sit down? Ya don’t look so-”

You turned and fled down the hallway that led back to the relative safety of the entrance room. Hana yelled after you to wait, but his voice was distorted and echoing down the tunnel and you didn’t bother to listen. You just fled.

Perhaps your room was the safest place to go, but you couldn’t bring yourself to spend time there, given its small size. It was fine normally, but you couldn’t manage it while already keyed up. Fortunately, the lab techs could use someone to help them wipe down their equipment, so you stayed in there. There were too many people bustling around for your liking, but it was, on the whole, a good distraction.

For the next couple of days, you didn’t see Hana. It wasn’t terribly hard to pawn your task off onto someone else, as long as you agreed to pick up whatever they were working on. You learned a lot of simple tasks- cleaning, a lot about cleaning, as well as how to operate their computer system, and even a few mechanical skills from repairing things. That had been completely disallowed in the compound you’d spent you life in- at least, for someone as low-ranking as you.

Hana sent you messages a couple of times. Some of the people who did your job of delivering meals came back and told you he’d asked them to tell you that he wanted to talk. You ignored it. There was a part of you that felt bad about it. Then you remembered him getting all pissy about you talking to Thierry and those bad feelings went right back out the window. What had been his problem about all that anyway?

The answer had come to you midway through washing out a series of trays in the cafeteria- he was jealous.

That thought gave you pause. You hadn’t even really been thinking about it, just kind of turning things over idly in your mind. But it made sense, didn’t it? He’d gotten sulky right after finding out that you were spending time with someone else, and that matched up with jealousy. He’d gotten annoyed about Thierry, specifically. Was he just pissed that he wasn’t the oh-so-special fear monster that you were picking to spend all of your time with?             Or maybe he was upset because you visited him at mealtimes, when you had to, and you could see Thierry whenever you wanted. People didn’t visit him very often, did they? Even Thierry, who lived in the main compound, seemed surprised to get visitors. Maybe he was jealous because he was lonely.

That idea didn’t make you feel very good. Not that it was an excuse for him getting all annoyed, but… it was understandable. And maybe you’d overreacted a little bit. You had your own reasons for that, of course. But looking back on it, you probably could have handled the whole thing better.

You grimaced, placing all the dishes into their rack and sliding it onto a shelf above your head. Fine. You would go back to him. Apologize. It would be swallowing your pride, but… You remembered him calling after you. His reaching out. The idea of you ignoring him out of some petty hurt feelings? It made you feel awful.

The next day, you went to gather his food from the kitchen and found no tray waiting for you. After a bit of looking around, to make sure you hadn’t missed something, you approached the kitchen head. “Hey. When are we feeding Hana?”

He glanced back at you. “Thought you didn’t want to feed him anymore.”

A nervous prickle wound its way down your spine. “Uh. I’ve been wanting to try out some other jobs, but I am still interested in helping- look, did you give the food to someone else or not?”

He sighed. He was older, and clearly didn’t like you talking back to him and ruining his quiet kitchen. “No. He’s getting a later feeding. We’re inviting someone new in today.”

“What? Seriously?” You leaned over the serving window. “Who is it?”

He glared at you. “You’ll have to ask someone else for that information.”

You headed out, looking for… someone who knew what was going on, you guessed. Fortunately, you only needed to go down a couple halls before running into the very woman who had welcomed you to this place.

“Hello,” she said. “I’m glad to see you. You’ve been settling in well?”

Her voice had that tone to it, the tone of someone asking perfunctory questions out of politeness without really caring about the answers they were getting. “Yes, it’s fine,” you said, another response out of obligated politeness. “You’re going to see the new person?”

“Yes. You’re wanting to come with?” she asked, barely slowing in her step. You continued alongside her.

“Am I allowed to?”

She shrugged. “Certainly. They’ll be from your compound. It may help them to see a friendly face.”

There was a solid chance it would be a face you didn’t know, and even if you did know them, they may not have been friendly. But it got you closer to Hana, and maybe you could stay behind for a bit to talk to him. You tagged along after her, drawing closer to the entrance to the tunnel with every step.

The woman was quick and sure and it took a little time to emerge into the open room lit with floodlights. There was no one there. No one continued to be there for several minutes. You were about to sarcastically ask if you got the time wrong when a small avalanche of pebbles fell down the tunnel.

There was another small avalanche of pebbles, then another, then a scraping noise. Then a head and shoulders emerged into the room. It was a person, pale-skinned, with curly blonde hair. She was quite skinny and smeared with dirt, teeth gritted. As soon as she was partially freed from the tunnel, she struggled forward, fingers clawing at the ground. The woman stepped forward, pulling the newcomer out of the hole. A moment later, Hana slithered out, groaning and stretching.

“Cuttin’ it close there, aren’t y-” His eyes fell on you and a look of clear surprise flitted across his face. He blinked a couple times. You felt a bit sheepish under his gaze.

The newcomer coughed as she stood up. “Son of a bitch, that’s rough. You need to have a better greeting system for people arriving here, because getting grabbed by a massive snake is not it, seriously.” She stared around the room, taking it all in, and her gaze fell on you. Her face twisted. “You!”             It came back in a rush- she was a familiar face. Not a friendly one, though. One of the ones who’d seen- she knew you. She’d helped get you thrown into the pit. What had led her here, you didn’t know, but she was clearly pissed that you were in the same place.

“What are you doing here?” she said.

“Same thing you are,” you snapped. “Shouldn’t be surprised that you’re here, to be honest. How long until you tattled on the wrong person and got yourself thrown away?”

“Tattled?” Her face grew splotched with red. “That’s what you call it? Because I told people you murdered someone?”

There was the cold shock of silence for a few moments. “Murder?” Hana said. His voice was faintly shocked. “Ya said ya stole something.”

“It’s technically stealing. Stole someone’s life,” you said. “But it- it wasn’t like that, I didn’t just- I didn’t want to, really, but it happened and-”

“While we are willing to accept those who’ve been driven out of the compound for multiple reasons, we are much more hesitant when it involves murder,” the woman said. “That you haven’t disclosed it until now gives us much more reason for concern.” She stepped forward, ushering the newcomer behind her. There was a glint of metal and there was a gun pointed at you. You hadn’t even seen where she was carrying it. “If you’ll come with me-”

“Wait, wait,” Hana said. He slithered forward, pulling more of himself into the room to go almost between you and the woman. “No need for a gun, yeah? S’not necessary. Nothin’s happened, right? No one’s done anything here. And livin’ in that compound- there’s gotta be a good reason for the murder, yeah?”

“Reasons can be determined later. For now- containment. For safety.”

“Containment?” The word made your skin crawl like it was trying to get off your body. It brings to mind the containment you were kept in when you were initially convicted in the compound. It was barely a room. Not enough space to lie down. Barely enough to sit, with your legs tucked against your chest and your arms tight against your sides. Not enough room to move, not even to eat. Not that it mattered. You were kept there for nearly two full days. They didn’t bother to feed you.

“C’mon,” Hana was speaking, his voice wheedling. “Someone just shows up here and you’re gonna take her word? Y’think this one’s gonna kill someone? Really?” He jerked a thumb back at you, and you couldn’t even be offended. “S’not exactly a tough lookin’ piece of work.”

The woman hesitated, lowering the pistol a little. “It wouldn’t be permanent. Just for a couple days, while we review work details and determine if there should be an escort. It’s for safety.”

Hana rolled his eyes, a great, overexaggerated movement. “Sure. Fine. Look, if ya want to do containment, do it here.”

The woman’s gun lowered a little more, out of sheer confusion. “I beg your pardon?”

“Do the containment here.” Hana lifted his hands to gesture at the room around you. “Ya can shut the door that connects this place and the main facility, right? Do that and keep the little killer here.” He waved a hand toward you again.

“I’m not certain that’s a good idea,” the woman said.

“What d’ya think is gonna happen? Little killer can’t get through the door once it’s closed. Not without your permission.” He paused, likely for dramatic effect. “Unless ya think she’s gonna pull something on me.” And then he grinned, showing off his teeth, especially the ones that were too pointed to be a human.

The woman looked at you, then him. Then you, then him again. Then she sighed. “Fine. If you’re determined to keep an eye on her, then I’m not going to stop you.” She placed the gun back under her jacket in a holster you hadn’t noticed before, then grabbed the newcomer by the arm. They walked out together, the newcomer’s eyes locked on you until they vanished down the tunnel. A moment later, the door at the end of the hall shut and locked.

The tension vanished at once, and you sank to the ground. Your heart raced along in your chest, your breathing quick and trembling. You closed your eyes for a moment, trying to calm yourself. Hana didn’t approach, but he didn’t leave either. He just studied a wall, waiting for you to pull yourself together.

You did, eventually. “Thanks,” you mumbled. Hana glanced at you. “I mean it. You didn’t have to do that.”

He hummed, turning away from the wall. “So. Ya kill someone?”             Straight to the point, huh? You took a deep breath. “Yeah.” You paused. “Have you ever, uh. Y’know.”

“Killed someone? Couple times, yeah.” He stretched. “Well. Actually. Probably a lot more than that, but I don’t know if they count.”

You stared at him, waiting for him to continue. He shrugged, plucking at some of his hair. It was in really good shape, considering that he’d been outside for ages. Actually, he was also rather clean. Did they give him access to a shower or something? How did he fit? Did he just get hosed down?

“This big ol’ thing,” he said gesturing to his body, “has been around for a bit longer than this.” He tapped a finger against his head. “We were all like that for a while.” You assumed he meant the other phobics. “‘Ventually we woke up, but I killed quite a few before I got there. Wasn’t really me doing the killing, though- didn’t have my sparkling personality.” He threw you a wink. You rolled your eyes. “Not like I remember what happened then, anyway.”

He fell silent after that until you piped up. “What about the other two people you killed?”

“Oh.” He finger-combed his hair, seeming very interested in picking out the knots. “One of ‘em tried to kill me. Came at me with a big ol’ knife. That was before I ended up here.”

“The other?” you prompted when he fell quiet again. He snorted, lips curling up over his fangs.

“The other was after I came here. Nasty piece of work. A criminal from your compound, though I dunno if he was a part of the compound itself. Didn’t seem like it. Asked him about what he did to get sent here.” Hana’s lips curled further. “Don’t think he was in his right mind. Said he was pickin’ off people from the farms, raping them, then chucking their bodies somewhere in the fields to rot.” Hana hissed. It was low, inhuman. It made your hair stand on end. “So I killed ‘im. Don’t think he appreciated being on the receiving end.”

Your chest clenched so hard you couldn’t get in a breath. You remembered that. It had happened a few years ago. You had been so grateful that you worked closer to the inner compound, so that something like that could never happen to you. You’d been so sure it would never happen. So, so sure.

“Woah there.” Hana reared up a little, looking at you with clear alarm. “Easy. I didn’t mean to freak ya out. Take a breath before you pass out, all right?”

The choking sobs eased enough for you to do just that. Hana came hesitantly closer, caution in his eyes. “S’okay. He’s dead now. Did you, uh. Know him or somethin’?”

Your voice was strange, strangled, but you got the words out. “Knew of him, more like. I thought- I thought it was so good when he was gone because- I would never- worry about it-” You kept having to pause to gasp for air. Hana winced.

“Maybe we should talk about somethin’ else now, yeah? Uh. Damn, they didn’t give us water, I think ya could use some…” He scrounged around. “Thought there was a spigot somewhere around here… not that it’d be super clean water, I guess.”

“I’m fine,” you said. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t say you’re sorry about things ya don’t need to be sorry for. It sets a bad precedent.” He finished fumbling his way along the wall and sighed. “Hmph. I don’t see it. Maybe I can bang on the door and make them-”

“Don’t bother. Like I said, I’m fine.” You took in a deep breath. Water would have been nice -your mouth was getting kind of tacky- but it wasn’t necessary. Hana gave you a skeptical look, but he didn’t bang on the door. That was probably for the best- the space was small enough that the sound would have echoed and that would have freaked you out more.

“Suppose it’s a bad time to ask and all,” Hana said. “But, uh. Y’ever gonna tell me why you killed someone? Just seems fair, is all.”

You took a deep breath, and then another. And then another and another. Hana waited, not really looking at you. His tail was still partially in the tunnel, but you could imagine his tail tip flicking idly, back and forth, while he waited.

“It’s not easy to talk about,” you said eventually.

Hana nodded, accepting. “I can see that.”

“I didn’t mean to- no.” You didn’t want to lie to him. “I did. I knew what was going to happen when I went there and I went anyway. I knew.”

Hana remained silent, his eyes flicking over to look at you. Another deep breath. “When I was there, I worked mostly in the town. It was a lot of stuff that I did. Repair work, maintenance, animal care, that kind of thing. Outside, but close to the center of the compound. That’s how you knew how important someone was. How close to the center they were. Eventually, I started getting called for other things. Maintenance on the hall itself, being a gopher for messages from the hall to the other workers or even bringing food into the officials. That was the first problem, I guess. The officials.

“There were a bunch of them, people who kind of ran things in the compound. I mean, I say a bunch. Probably around five or six. We never saw all of them. But Peter was one of the ones we saw, often. He was the… I don’t know. The charisma, maybe. His official job was something to do with assigning tasks and population management, but he really made people want to stay. He could talk to you and make you feel like the most important person in the world, or like the shit under his shoe. Peter could make you feel good about doing the most menial, backbreaking work every day because he could make you feel like you were doing something important.” You paused. You’d expected to feel upset or near tears, but you just felt oddly numb. “He made me feel important. About everything.”

Hana was a short distance away, watching with rapt attention. You couldn’t quite bring yourself to look at him, but you could tell he was paying attention. “He was nice to me, and I thought he was kind. I was so happy when he started getting me to work more in the hall. I thought it meant I was doing well. And eventually he started getting close. Asking me to take meals with just him. I thought it was strange, but I was happy. And then he started to ask for other things. And I thought… I can’t refuse him. Ever.

“The first time he tried to have sex with me, he was drunk. Like, pretty damn drunk. I let it happen because I wasn’t sure if he would remember it. I didn’t want to offend him if he did. I thought it was just a one-time thing. Except… the next time he was less drunk. And then the third time he wasn’t drunk at all. And every time I thought he wouldn’t do it again. By the time I realized it was going to keep happening, I had no idea how I was supposed to stop it. Refusing felt like I was suddenly kicking up a fuss over something that hadn’t been a big deal at first, but it had been a big deal all along!”

Your voice broke, rising in volume. Hana bristled, looking alarmed, but uncertain. Should he move closer? Back away? Comfort you? Seeing his panicked bewilderment, you took a deep breath and tried to relax. “It’s- I tried to stop it in small measures. Tried to tell him not now, or another time, or even tried to just cuddle.” You giggled, a little hysterically. “He wasn’t pleased. He got pushier. More demanding and more controlling. I started to get a little desperate. I talked about what was happening with some other people, but those who weren’t jealous or thought I was being ungrateful were scared of him. And then when he found out I was telling people, he was furious. Said I was trying to make other people jealous or get attention, even when I said that wasn’t what I was doing at all. He got more aggressive. Angrier with me. I couldn’t do anything right anymore, and every time I did something wrong, he threatened to send me away. I didn’t want to stay with him, but I didn’t want to leave, either. It was awful.

“I think I went crazy for a while. I was so stressed I couldn’t even think straight for ages. I just wanted him out of my life. I had access to a lot of things in the hall at that point, including the medicine storage. I thought if I slipped something into his wine when he was drunk enough, maybe I could pin it on his drinking, that he’d just had too much. It wasn’t like we could do autopsies. And that’s what I tried. Put a bunch of crushed-up sleeping pills into the wine and brought it too him when I thought he might already be too drunk to notice the taste. I’m not exactly sure what went wrong. Maybe he didn’t drink enough, or I put too little in, or maybe he was just in death throes. But he came at me, and I hit him. I think it killed him, or it was a combination of that and the medicine. So I panicked, tried to hide the body, and then, well. You know what happened after that.”

Hana was silent for a moment. He took in a deep breath, released it slowly. His eyes closed for a moment. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay.”

“It’s really, really not,” Hana said. “It’s gross. And fucked. And horrible. I’m glad ya killed him.” He turned toward the door with a murderous look in his eyes. “And that bitch was going to-”

“She didn’t know. Why would she? It’s not like most people knew what happened. She knows what they told her. I murdered one of our leaders. Honestly, getting thrown into the pit was a mercy for me. I thought they might string me up and have a torture free for all.”

Hana shuddered. It traveled along his shoulders and all down his tail. It was sort of funny to watch. “Fuck.”

“Yeah.” You weren’t sure what else to say. You were just tired.

Hana moved a little closer to you, but stayed out of touching distance. “I’ll talk to ‘em. If you want. Tell them not to- not to have ya here anymore. Ya don’t deserve it.”

“It’s fine.”

“It ain’t fine! Ya don’t deserve it!” There was a thump from outside, Hana’s tail swinging wildly. “It’s about not lettin’ them punish people who shouldn’t be punished!”

“I did kill a man,” you observe mildly.

“Yeah, and ya should have gotten a medal for it,” Hana huffed.

“I don’t really mind being here. It’s not so bad. Company’s nice.” You smiled at him. He frowned back.

“Thought ya didn’t like me.” He wasn’t saying it accusingly. Just as an observation.

“Oh. No, I don’t not like you. I know I freaked out last time I saw you. I got… worried when you were upset about Thierry.”

Hana drooped. “Eh. Yeah. That wasn’t my best moment. I didn’t mean to scare ya. I wasn’t thinking.”

“Running wasn’t my best moment, either,” you said. “I thought about coming back soon after I ran, but I was kinda embarrassed. Sorry.”

Hana laughed. “We both fucked up then, huh? Maybe me more than you. Glad you’re here now, though. S’good to see ya.”

“It’s good to see you too,” you said. “Like I said before.” Hana grinned, eyes crinkling at the corners.

Eventually, he departed back to the surface, but he spent much more of his time down in the cave with you. It was quietly peaceful. After what you estimated to be a few hours, the door banged and Hana perked up as food was slipped through the door. He managed to catch it before it closed completely and there were a few minutes of mumbled conversation. Hana retreated, letting the door close. He seemed smugly pleased with himself.

“I gave them a piece of my mind,” he said. “Not as much as I wanted to, but ya know. They wanted it to be all quick.” He shrugged. “They’re gonna let ya out soon. Didn’t tell ‘em too much, but I did say it was self-defense.”

“They believed you?” you asked, a bit skeptical.

“More or less. Honestly, I think they’d already gotten the idea that you killed someone high-ranking, and they’re more likely to call self-defense for that. When I told ‘em you’d killed someone in self-defense and they were a high-up, they seemed to be content.”

“It wasn’t really self-defense,” you said. “It was premeditated murder.”

Hana snorted. “He was raping ya. Ya stopped him. It was self-defense.”

It was such a simple sentence, but the way he’d said it, like it was obvious and clear, that you should have done it, that it was as simple as protecting yourself- it made you crumble. You dropped your head into your hands and whimpered. Hana froze, then slid closer. He seemed momentarily lost, until you slumped against him. You didn’t hold him back, but you allowed him to hold you while you shivered and whimpered. He was careful, keeping his touch light, but there. It wasn’t restrictive- just a reminder he was there for you.

Once you were done crying yourself out, you lay down and closed your eyes, exhausted. “I’m going to sleep,” you mumbled. “Let me know when they come to get me.”

Hana nodded. “Will do.” He lay down next to you, watching you lazily. “When ya get out of here… come back to visit me, yeah?”

You opened your eyes. Hana seemed… melancholy, tense. He was waiting for your answer. “Yeah,” you said. You slid your hand out over his. “You’re never going to get rid of me after this. Promise.”

Before you closed your eyes again, you saw Hana grinning.

True to his word, you were released from the cell and allowed to go back to your room. The newcomer still glared at you, but she never made any effort to do anything. In fact, a week later, she came up and gave a mumbled apology. You forgave her, at least enough to tolerate her presence.

And you were back on feeding duty for Hana. He was pleased every time you came by, always attentive and waiting. The feedings took longer now- sometimes so long that people had to come get you. It was just nice talking to Hana. The only issue was that it was uncomfortable for him to stay down for a long time. You hadn’t realized it before, as he never complained, but the tunnel was little tight around him, and his tail could cramp if he spent too long in there.

One day, as he was carefully retreating back through the tunnel, (he had to hold his arms out in front of him, lest they catch awkwardly on the uneven walls), you caught his attention. “I, uh. I couldn’t go up there with you, could I?”

He froze, arms still outstretched. “Ya want to?”

You huffed. “You don’t need to sound like it’s insane to want that.”             “No, no, s’not what I meant.” He wriggled a little ways back out. “I meant, ya never want to go through here. It’s too tight for ya.”

“It’s tight,” you agreed. “But I want to try anyway.” Your heart was thundering just thinking about it, but you liked the idea of the fresh air and sunlight on the other side.

Hana pursed his lips. “Are ya sure? Not to doubt ya, but if ya get in and decide ya don’t like it, it’s gonna be hard to get back out.”

“I got it. Trust me.” You gave him a pleading look. He squirmed, restless in his worry. Then he sighed.

“I can’t stop ya. Just be careful.” He retreated again, slower this time. You took a deep breath and pressed inward.

You were going forward, instead of in reverse, so your arms were pinned to your sides within a few moments. You couldn’t move them an inch, could barely lift your head. You could kick your legs and wriggle to force yourself forward.

There was panic from the moment the stone walls restricted your arms, but the moment when they pinched in so tight you couldn’t move without some scratches was when it really set in. You tried not to breathe in great, whooping gasps, because that make dust fly up your nose and mouth and only increased the terror that you couldn’t breathe, but it was hard. The walls were so tight. You could barely breathe enough to scream, but you could make little noises of terror. There was a pale light distantly above and in front of you, but you couldn’t reach it. You could see the sun, but you were in the dark and you couldn’t bring yourself to move forward.

The pale light wobbled, then a shape moved across it. A head and shoulders. “Hey!” Hana called out. His voice echoed faintly down the tunnel. “Ya stopped moving.”

You tried to speak, but it came out as a thin squeak. Hana went very still. Then he spoke again, in a soft, gentle voice. “Hey. S’okay. Ya got this. It’s scary, yeah? Being stuck in there. But if ya just move your legs a little, ya can keep moving forward. Ya can get out. Just a little further.”

You groaned. But you kicked. Your legs thrust you forward. And Hana’s shape, backlit by the sun, got clearer and clearer.

His hand reached in as soon as you were close enough and he pulled, gripping your collar until you had wriggled free.

“There ya go!” Hana sagged in relief as you scrambled onto the dirt floor. “Whoo! Was a little worried.” He lowered himself to look into your face. “You’re okay? Nothin’ hurt?”

“Nah. Fine.” You could steady your breathing. “It was tighter than I remembered. But I’m okay now.”

You rolled onto your back, letting the warm kiss of the sun land across your face. “It’s a nice day.”

“Yeah,” Hana said, staring down at you. “It is.” He curled his body closer in around you, surrounding you in snaky coils. He didn’t block out the sun, careful to keep his body to the sides, rather than directly overtop you.

You reached out and tentatively patted his side. The snake body shifted under your touch, the scales slightly warm. Hana watched indulgently as you traced the scales with a finger. Then, finally, he lowered his upper body to the ground next to you. You lay there together for a bit, basking in the sun.

Hana shifted next to you, a little restless. “Are ya goin’ to be up here long?”

“Trying to get rid of me,” you teased. You couldn’t see his face from your angle, but you knew he was rolling his eyes.

“No. ‘Course not. Just wonderin’ if they were missing ya down there.” He was quiet for a moment. “Just thought ya might want to stay up here a bit longer.”

“I’m not eager to go into the tunnel again,” you agreed. “And it’s nice up here. The sun’s nice. Haven’t seen it in a while.” Hana shifted, as if impatient. “And the company is nice.”

“Just nice?” Hana poked. “Faint praise, isn’t it?”

“Well, maybe I could think of someone else I might want to hang out with. Thierry cou-” Hana lifted himself so he was leaning over you, practically pouting. His tail moved, curling even tighter around you. It could have been threatening, but you couldn’t stop yourself from giggling.

“Hey. What did I ever do to ya?” he complained. “I’ve been nothin’ but cordial to ya and now you’re just-”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” you huffed. You reached up and petted his face. He closed his eyes, instantly melting into your touch. You brushed your fingers along his cheekbones. He looked quite peaceful. Happy. You had a sudden impulse.

Before you could think better of it, you pulled his face in and gave him a kiss on his forehead.

Hana’s eyes flew open. He blinked once, twice, startled. You wanted to giggle, but a flicker of nervousness in your guts stifled it. His tail curled in close, a tight mass of muscle. Despite that, he kept it from tightening so much that it would make you uncomfortable. “Did ya mean to do that?” he asked. You nodded. A slow grin spread across his face. “Then I’m going to have to return the favor. If ya don’t mind…”

No sooner had you nodded than you were covered in enthusiastic kisses from a snake man. Giggling at the ticklish feeling and wrapped in coils and arms, you felt… surprisingly safe. And not even a little afraid.

[scarlet-ancunin]

♡You Love Me To♡

A/N: The song below inspired the fic for me

☆~☆~☆~☆~☆~☆~☆~☆~☆~☆~☆~☆~☆~☆~☆

" I Care About you to"

Those five words rang through the vampire spawns head over and over. They really like me. Astarion was sitting alone in his tent thinking about it. Of course the events that happened after struck something he didn't think was possible... but was it.... Love... from such a simple moment between them such a simple hold.

It wasn't forced but gentle. It didn't have strings attached- wanting something in return... no it was a genuine feeling of love and care that came with that simple gesture of affection. He enjoyed it he wanted to feel more of that.

After 200 years of abuse from Cazador, locking him in the dark with nothing, feeding on rats and bugs he forced him to eat, trying to break his mind, using his looks and his body to bring him poor helpless souls to his lair. Like lambs for the slaughter. And he was the cause of it all. He had many lovers or rather flings but at this moment the only person who stayed on his mind was You. You were special in ways he couldn't understand and that probably is what led to his original plan of using you to fail miserably.

He realized while skimming through the same page in his book that more than anything he wanted to see you smile more because of him. Its probably what led to this sudden idea to walk towards the tent that occupied the "blade of frontiers".

'This is a stupid idea' the pale elf thought while approaching the man cradling a goblet of wine looking up. Astarion cleared his throat to catch the mans attention. "Oh? Astarion a rare occurrence to be visiting me at such an hour what do you need?"

Astarion also found wyll more annoying then he care to admit out loud but right now he was the only one he could... Trust with this little idea. "I...I need a favor I'll gladly pay you back later but i need your help can you help me?" Astarion says this with a vague motion and a simple wave of his hand.

Wyll ever the "hero" agrees "sure but what does this favor intel?" Astarion suddenly found the dirt on the ground more interesting avoiding eye contact. "Astarion?" Wyll asked softly but a hint of curiosity.

"Can you teach me... ugh can you teach me how to, well, dance" that was all Astarion said nothing more nothing less and certainly not sharing his reasons for this request. Wyll was surprised "Astarion you don't know how to dance?"

The vampire glares at the man suddenly "i wouldn't have ask for the damn favor if i did" seeing Wyll frown made him pause and look away with a huff. "I- never really got around to it.. can you teach me?" He sounded more calmer slight hints of plea.

Wyll nods smiling "sure a man shouldn't miss the opportunity to show off not only his skills with the blade but also with movements of his body" Astarion grimaced at this before rolling his eyes. "We can practice at nights while everyone is asleep" he said before walking away quickly. Wyll blinks before chuckling low and retiring for the night.

-

Astarion was surprisingly a quick learner he watched each move just like he watched his prey before feeding. There was one problem... the man wanted to learn something a little but more romantic and rather closer.

"Ah as much as i like to prance around all day i was hoping for something a little more on the intimate side of things" Wyll gives him a knowing smile "fancy wooing someone in particular?"

Astarion plays ignorant "oh please i simply want to learn because it is a good skill that's all" he crossed his arms and tilts his head up towards the night sky eyes closed. Wyll hums low "well i suppose i don't need to show you because i taught you the good skills already"

Astarion was quick to change his tone "alright, alright it is to flatter someone I suppose" "anyone I know of?" Wyll asked enjoying this to much. The Pale elf rolled his eyes with a huff he mumbles out a soft maybe.

"Its Y/n isn't it?" Wyll said matter-of-fact and it annoyed Astarion to no end. He doesn't meet his gaze but Wyll knew he was right. "They will like you no matter if you dance or not Astarion i see the way they look at you with adoration not many hold such a gaze to anyone they didn't care about."

Astarion sighs pinching the bridge of his nose. "I am aware my looks draws-" Wyll cuts him off "its more than that Astarion even Halsin knows this" Wyll pressed and Astarion red eyes flicked between wylls devil eyes and the small fire they made far from the camp.

"Just teach me...." he stares at the man before him for a moment "please"

~

Luckily Astarion had fed the night before so he was happy and was able to be useful for the team consiting Himself, You, Gale and Halsin. Every time you wasn't paying attention behind you it was fine because the sound of a fast ice, fire or lightning arrow whizzed through the air landing strong damage on them.

Back at the camp Gale and Halsin made it their mission to make sure everyone else especially Scratch stayed occupied to give Astarion a moment alone with You which meant going far from the camp and taking a wine bottle and some simple food to snack on but most importantly the fancy music box he stoled from that pompous man when he wasn't looking.

Gentle laughter filled the air as Astarion mentioned how he stoled the music box giving a fake story of "how can you blame me I'm a victim to" and how gullible they were. Astarion smiles at you. A real one enjoying your laughter and company all the same. Its when he stood up walking to the tree truck with the misic box opened and ready. He gave the dial behind it a few twist and it started to hum to life.

You blush deeply when Astarion holds his hand out to you "may i have this dance" You stood up grinning like an idiot and nod taking his hand in yours "well i suppose you can" you teased playfully before you both slowly began to dance to the soft tune.

It was perfect you thought to yourself looking up at him getting lost in those crimson eyes of his. His smile was sharp and while he doesn't like when you mention the crease of his smile to him, it always made you admire him more. What he assumed was imperfect meant so much to you.

He twirls you slowly and then dips you smiling lightly "your full of surprises my love" you said softly smiling up at him then giggle before moving in closer and kissing him passionately.

"I love you very much" he said softly before leaning his head on top of yours when you rest your head against his shoulder. The music a soft background to the moment you both are sharing.

☆~☆~☆~☆~☆~☆~☆~☆~☆~☆~☆~☆~☆~☆~☆

Narrator: hidden behind the trees and bushes silently observing the intimate scene before them was their loyal companions all supportive of their friends successful moment

As always i hope you like it, thanks for your support and requests are open for Astarion from BG3 😁❤️

[reptileyan]

It came from your backyard

For anyshiptober 🎃

Cw: death/grief, forced breeding, genital owch (not sadistic, this yandere worships you), alien.

The tree in your backyard has flowers that don't really make sense. They change shape from year to year, never seeming to bloom or die. They continue to grow, petals never fall.

Your parents used to try and make up a name for the type of flower, to take samples to some scientist or botanist or anyone who would put a name or a price to the oddity. The wood could not be cut, the bioluminescence not strong enough when your parents were around to photograph and impress anyone.

It seemed brighter when it was just you. Then again, you remember jumping feeling like floating when you were little, cheap food tasting delicious through the chemicals, movies lasting forever. Maybe children just experience the world differently.

Maybe the bioluminescence is just something you make up. Every time you go outside to draw, and your mom says you'll hurt your eyes like you aren't thirty-five and don't know that, and your dad tries not to laugh at you for singing and chattering to the tree like it can hear. For leaving music on when you aren't there.

They're there, fussing at you, every single day, and then they're not.

Your absence is enough to worry your dearest friend, two weeks go by, you're a homebody, never leaving for more than a few days.

You emerge from the house, unwashed and exhausted. You sit next to the tree, pull out a pack of stickers. You tell the tree you made them, and maybe it counts as art to use them.

You scribble on the page, on yourself. Stickers wander across your sketchbook, your body, onto the tree. You are lonely, and you don't want to get out there. You don't want to date, to make new friends. You want to have a family. To be left alone.

The tree is not your family, nor your friend. The tree does not listen. Something beneath does, and has been clawing its way out for well over a decade, your voice reminding it which way is up, that there are other living things. That it isn't alone.

You disappeared and it ricocheted from digging until it's body broke and bled and almost giving up, over and over, begging you with all it's starved, abandoned might to come back.

It really was going to give up, it told itself.

One quiet sentence about whether stickers count as art, and it's using it's remaining strength to finally crawl up, to see light for the first time since it crashed deep into the ground so many years ago, it aches and burns and it's been hours since it last heard you.

A long while goes by, it catches its breath, it can breathe and see again, nothing weighs down on it, it is free.

The plant overhead is beautiful, a bit mutated by leaking fuel but still achieving its goal of feeding and guiding the unfortunate passenger until it emerged. It has strange little symbols flaking off of it, which are dutifully studied. Bright, pretty colors. Appealing.

The building nearby is easy to break into, the owner of the voice easy to find, it can finally hear you breathe and whine in your sleep. All the little noises you make just by existing, they're beautiful. You're tutted over as though you are the one who's been worse off, more lonely, left behind. It remembers other voices, but those disappeared, and yours only just returned, sounding strained.

Poor thing. You're all alone too.

You've given it so much over the ages it spent underground, suffocated and weary. Company and music and a reason to keep digging. It wants to repay you.

It's starving, dying of thirst.

The tree will bear fruit soon, hopefully still safe to eat, mutation aside. For now the stranger digs through your home, searching through nooks and crannies to find the food you've hidden away. Clever little creature that you are, despite your rudimentary dwelling, your food is neatly organized and stored out of sight. The stranger is pleased, quickly eating and drinking its fill, washing the excess dirt off-thank heavens this planet has fluid that only stings a bit-and making its way back to you.

Its body taken care of, it wishes to tend to yours, and your loneliness.

You don't know what you're looking at when you wake up. You stare, and stare, trying to categorize it as if it'll all fall into place once you decide whether it looks more like a newt or a beetle or the villi lining your intestines.

It makes a noise, imitating random words.

"Sticker-gone-tired."

You blink.

It taps food to your mouth, some deli meat from the fridge. You eat. It chitters, and rubs your belly.

You wish to go back to sleep. You have no idea what's going on.

It hums a song from the 2000s as it categorizes your body, mapping it out, nudging anywhere soft and sighing in what you hope is appreciation. You wonder if it's rude to assume it's going to eat you.

The way its mouth opens is unusual, and feels like how you think ambrosia would taste as it's rubbed against your neglected cunt. It latches on, regurgitating excessive amounts of fluid into you until you're straining to not scream, skin taut and red, new stretch marks forming in front of your eyes as you're forced bigger and wider, beyond what you could imagine. Becoming an adult, settling into your body, and gaining pudge were nothing compared to this.

Your cunt is sealed shut with a painful, white-hot appendage. It takes you awhile to come down from the high that the pain brought, and days to forgive the thing that tormented you. You relent after watching it stay in the doorway as you drift off, only occasionally glancing at you with a soft coo, keeping guard over you but shying away when you draw near. You press a sticker to its back plate when you decide you're done being mad, giving it some of your art regardless of whether it understands the gesture. It solemnly adheres a blossom from the uncuttable tree to your collarbone with something akin to spit.

You decide not to brush it off. You were lonely, and now you're not, a strange being pattering around after you, more on the way if its delight over your belly growing means anything. You count six independently moving creatures inside you. You tell the thing it better pull its weight once the babies arrive.

It chirps "Pull weight, babies!", nuzzles into you, and hums a one hit wonder.

[luveline]

hello jade! i just want to say i absolutely adore your writing!! if you have the time, could we see some more grumpy steve in the zombie au? id love to see anything from before the college, i just miss that grumpy era! <3

thank you my love!! steve zombie au —you try to make sense of why steve is so grumpy. 1k, fem!reader

"No," Steve says. 

You sigh and turn away from him, hands braced either side of your face. Steve doesn't talk much, but when he does, his favourite word is no. 

"Why not?" you ask. 

"There's nothing left in Hawkins," he says, stepping with ease over a huge puddle of diesel, the expelled gas strong enough to make you feel nauseous. 

"There's, you know, our homes." 

"What's the point?" he asks. "I'm trying to be fair here. What's the point in going back when everyone is gone and half the town was burned to the ground?" 

You ease over the diesel puddle with much less ease, muttering expletives to yourself when your left foot sinks into the instep. Now you'll smell like diesel for the next week. Great. 

There isn't any point in going back home, but that doesn't mean you don't want to. There really is nothing there, half the town was on fire when you bolted, the Hawk, the school, anything that would catch. It was an organised arson by the escape group you and Steve were supposed to be in (or rather, just Steve, flame to draw the geeks attention. You hadn't known anyone who knew anyone that knew the plan, so you hadn't realised everybody was leaving until they were already gone, the sound of what must've been fifty cars departing northward your lone clue. 

You kick the floor as you and Steve step out of the road and back onto the dirt path beside it, hoping the grass and mud will soak up the acrid smell stuck to your shoe. You'd brought Hawkins up because you're still grieving. Because you want someone to talk to about what you've lost, and Steve isn't abiding. 

"What guarantee is it that the world isn't just as razed as Hawkins?" you ask without pep. 

"There's no point thinking about it that way. We keep moving or we die. We go home, we die. We need to keep going and if we're fast enough, we can catch up to the Hawkins group. It'll be safer when it isn't only the two of us." 

And you'll never have to speak to me again, you think morosely. 

Steve is handsome. He went to your high school, though that was, like, four years ago. He's not the kind of guy who wasted time with girls like you, you know that. You guess you'd been hoping he'd be nicer alone. 

"You're not how I remember you," you say. 

"I don't remember you," he says. 

"Why would you?" you ask. You pretend to mess with the zipper on your jacket rather than look in his direction, worried he'll meet your eye, and see the actual hurt in your expression. "I was nobody, and you were a jock. Everyone knows how that goes."

"It's not like that," he says. 

You bat a rogue insect away from your cold cheek. You hate the forest. "What's it like?" you ask. 

"It's not about what kind of person you were. I had a lot going on back then." 

"Like what?" 

"Like getting beat up so bad I had a concussion twice in the same year," he says. 

"Woah." You look at him through the corner of your eye. "You got beat up that bad twice?" 

Steve doesn't answer you. You continue following him, making your way across a big stretch of road, the next crop of buildings about twenty minutes away if you had to guess. The weather is brisk, the sun occluded by grey clouds, and the air smells like ash. The sky is a hazy shade of white.

"Wait, by Jonathan Byers?" 

"No, he's the one who didn't give me a concussion," Steve says contritely. 

"Oh. Hey, you don't have to look so down about it, Harrington, this is a good thing. I can trust you, now." 

"You didn't trust me? I've been feeding you for the past week." 

"Yeah, but you're a guy I don't really know. I was worried you might try to kill me and eat me in my sleep or something when the food ran out, but now I know you're bad at fights, I'm not so worried." 

"Fuck off," he says dryly. 

"I'm bad at fighting too, if you were wondering." 

"I wasn't." 

"Hmm. Who beat you up the third time? I know that jerk Hargrove got you." 

"Just some guy."

"Must've been an angry guy," you mumble, looking at him with your head tilted. 

Steve is an asshole often and unapologetically to you, but you don't think you want to hurt him. He's shown you that, while he sucks, he knows how to be nice. He makes sure the blankets are covering your shoulders before you fall asleep, and he gives you bigger portions if he hears your stomach grumbling. Plus, no guy so eager to find their best friend can be evil, you think. He must have a whole lot of love stored up. Or stored down. Deep down inside. 

"Stop staring at me," he says. 

"Okay." You stare at him some more. He has a nice nose. He has really nice eyes, kind of hooded and almond shaped at once, brown irises that look dark as tree bark as the sun goes down. "Well, I won't beat you up." 

"Thanks," he says. He sounds less grumpy. You try to push it further. 

"I'm really sorry," you say, slowing your steps a touch. He slows to match you. "That someone hurt you like that. Twice. I know concussions aren't funny, that it must've sucked to recover from them." 

"I had a perforated eardrum," he says. "It hurt like hell. All of it did."

"I'm sorry," you say gently, offering him a sympathetic smile. 

He smiles back. "Not your fault," he says quietly. Then, louder, "Don't walk so slow. We need to be inside soon, the sun is setting." 

"Yes, sir," you say, saluting him sarcastically. 

He doesn't speak to you for half an hour. You don't mind so much, especially when, the next time you come across a puddle of diesel (someone seriously needs to learn how to syphon gas properly), he holds out a hand and helps you cross it, even though you could've easily walked around.

[m1sa-w1sa]

Glad you are okay and hope you doing good! *Random idea I got from plot in manga. Yandere Kyoko Kirigiri and Chiaki Nanami with crush on darling who need glasses to see, only for a day to not have it due to forgot, destroyed, or taken by bullies. Darling needs help to do daily activity of eat (they might eat dirt) and write down notes. Darling might go very near to their persona space near their chest in order to see their notebook to copy them. Good night!

(This is so cool!! Ty for the request annon!! MIGHT BE A LITTLE OC!!)

A/N: Ok so a little things about requests, i got a dm saying ‘why tf havent you done my genshin request?! Blah blah one I already done it TWO i always do it latest to earliest and i DO have a outside life so please be patient! Thats all! Enjoy~!

Kyoko Kirigiri

•So Im going to start this off as you came to her first asking for help to guide you through the day until you get your glasses back

•She would be on cloud nine, almost letting out a soft smile at the fact quickly accepting the offer to help you through your day, why wouldnt she?! She can protect you and hold your hand 24/7!

•She wouldnt let ANYONE near you, even your friends as she made a excuse about ‘ They were going to tease you about not having your glasses ‘ She made sure that you held her hand all the time even if she wasnt even sitting in her own seat in glass just to help you take notes

•She would feed you herself not minding the stares she might be getting, she likes having you under her wing, her darling just where she wants them

•if your hand travels somewhere else (chest area) she would quickly stop you, telling you what you were about to do, but she doesnt mind, any contact with her darling is alright but she does make sure to guide your hands herself

•If your bullies took your glasses, she would frame them perfectly for a crime that she committed, she killed one of them but made it seem like they all took part, if you broke or lost them she would help you find them at the end of the day, but hiding them for a little longer so you can still be dependent on her

Chiaki Nanami

•Usually Chiaki is pretty sleepy but when you told her you needed help for the day then she was wide awake for this, you accidentally taped her chest thinking that it was her shoulder she understood and held your hand instead aceoting the offer

•She kept you close paying a little more attention in class to help you with notes, but if you usually dont pay attention in class she would still help you but not as much as she would if you did

•She was happy that you were by her side the whole day, staying with her during breaks and playing video games or her guiding your fingers to play was a joy for her

•She would KINNNDDA forget to feed you until you almost ate like hand sanitizer thinking it was your drink, thats when she quickly started to help you with more things

•If your bullies took your glasses she wouldnt really know what to do but not really wanted to do anything either so you can stay with her but she would try to get them back for you

•If you lost or broke them like kyoko she would hide them or hide the pieces so you can stay together for longer

(DONE!!! I hope you enjoyed! Next story coming soon!!)

[addthespaghetti]

French Toast

please ignore my bad jokes.

warnings: drinking, fluff, harassment, and sexual humor

1300+ words

You wake up tired from the night before, and as you attempt to roll over to stretch out, your girlfriend pulls you toward her. You smile at this gesture; Emily's love language has always been physical touch. Whether its cuddling with you on the couch after a hard case or even just holding your hand under the table at dinners with her team. She always makes it a point to be touching you in some way.

She has been like this since you met; it was a long day at work, and all you wanted to do was to drink away your problems for the day, alone, at your favorite bar. Of course, a man had to ruin you by asking to buy you a drink, but you politely turn him down. Then, he refused to take no for an answer. He kept trying to buy you drinks, and when you kept turning down his offers, he got aggressive over it.

That's when she came to your rescue by flashing her FBI badge at the man so he would stop bothering you. When he finally decided to back off because he was scared of getting arrested, you insisted on buying her a drink to thank her, but one drink became two, and two drinks' quickly became four, and while you don't usually hook up with strangers. Emily was the exception because she immediately captivated you, giving you butterflies by only touching you slightly.

It was no surprise when you woke up naked that morning in a strange bed with her arm wrapped around you and a random cat purring by your head.

Now, after almost one year of being together, you are in the same position, minus Sergio, who is most definitely getting into something he shouldn't like he always does.

As much as you would love to lay in bed with Emily all day, you really need to pee, and if you wait to feed Sergio any longer, he will start breaking things. So you reluctantly try to quickly and quietly sneak out of Emily's arms without waking her up, but of course, why would the world be on your side and Emily ends up waking up anyway.

"Baby, go back to sleep." You say quietly, knowing she just came home from a hard case and needed more time to rest.

"Don't leave me, please?" Emily spoke in her raspy morning voice that has you folding every time you hear it. The only reason you didn't give in and lay back in bed the second that came out of her mouth was the growing need to pee, and you did not need another broken flower pot from an annoyed Sergio.

You grab Emily's face lightly and give her a soft kiss. After you break apart, you whisper against against her lips, "I need to feed Sergio, if he doesn't get food, you will be cleaning up dirt from the carpet."

Emily groans, but she knows you're right. "Fine," she says, pouting against your lips.

You roll your eyes' playfully, taking your hand off her face and grabbing a shirt off the ground. While pulling the shirt over your head, you walk to the bathroom to pee and brush your teeth.

After finishing up, you exit the bathroom and look at your sleeping girlfriend. Emily has always been effortlessly beautiful, and honestly, you are a little jealous of how good her hair looks after a whole night of sleep.

You get brought back to reality by a screeching cat after zoning out thinking about Emily. Bending over, you pick up Sergio so he would stop meowing. You whisper to him while leaving the room, "Hush, you wake her up, and I will withhold your treats."

Sergio meows back, and you laugh. You know he can't understand you, but it is still amusing when he meows back like he is answering you.

After putting him down, you go to the cabinet and

grab his food. Emily always gets him the good, expensive stuff. It's kinda funny because he eats better than you half the time. While putting the food in his bowl, you realize how hungry you are after forgetting to eat dinner last night, and for the first time ever, you are happy your fucked up mother forced you to learn how to cook so you could "please a man."

Going over to Emily's fridge, you open it and laugh. It was so empty you were surprised you didn't see a tumbleweed roll across one of the shelves. Luckily, she had some eggs and milk, so you grabbed them from the fridge. Remembering she also has bread in her cabinet, you go grab that too, deciding to make French Toast.

After getting everything ready, you turn on the stove to let it heat up for a second.

While waiting for it to heat up, you zone out and think about your life. You grew up in such a fucked up household, having your mother teach you that a woman should stay in the kitchen and that woman's only purpose is to take care of her husband. However, because you were smart, you secretly applied to college and got accepted. You cut off your parents as soon as you got to college. After escaping your parents, you spent years unlearning this way of thinking and started dating women. Then you found Emily, and you learned what true love and happiness is.

You snap back to reality to a pair of arms hugging you from behind and Emily's head lying on your shoulder. You smile and start cooking the French Toast. While you cooked the French Toast, Emily did not make one indication that she was going to move, and she didn't. She stood there hugging you from behind for the entire time you cooked.

When you finished cooking the French Toast, you turned off the stove and moved the pan to a different burner. Not being able to move because Emily is holding on to you like you will disappear if she lets go, you decide to say something so the food doesn't get cold, "Em, baby, you need to move so we can eat before the French Toast gets cold."

Emily groaned but let go of you, and then she grabbed plates from the cabinet and handed them to you. You took the French Toast out of the pan and plated it. After Grabbing them, you walk to the table with Emily behind you with forks. You spoke, deciding to poke fun at Emily for her lack of food, "Sorry for the lack of syrup or powdered sugar, but you had so little food you would think it was the 1940s, and we still used ration cards."

After Emily tried and failed to suppress her grin, she decided to take a bite out of her food so you couldn't see her smile at your joke.

"I see you smiling," you say, smiling at her.

"Just shut up and eat your French Toast," Emily says unseriously.

"Or what," you say just to get a reaction from her.

Since you sat right next to Emily, she grabbed your face and brought it closer to her. She whispered right by your ear, "I'll fuck you so hard you will feel it all week." Then she let go of your face and started eating her French Toast like nothing happened.

You sit there with your jaw dropped. No matter how often she does that, it always renders you speechless. While you sit shocked, she brings her fork to your mouth and feeds you the French Toast. You and Emily start dying of laughter after this. You laugh so hard it brings tears to your eyes.

When you finish laughing, you notice Emily staring at you, "What?" You ask confused.

"I love you," she says.

"I love you too."