#because it seems like they're disappearing from the tags

[se7ens-oc-heaven]

And now, time for some oc writing!! Specifically, a self-contained piece for my SwSh oc Rex. I think of this as a sort of brief, non-chronological "timeline" piece for him, showing out-of-context snapshots to sort of give a sense of his main drive in the Legendkeepers story. Hopefully you'll all enjoy, this is my first time doing a format like this but I hope it isn't too confusing!

Context: Rex is my oc who follows the Shield storyline, becoming a champion of Galar and exploring the story and events in the Crown Tundra afterwards. His best friend, Ritsu, is a "Faller" who went missing when they were children, and never came back. This follows Rex and how he handles this disappearance as he gets older.

•••

Rex was eleven years old when he first heard the news that his best friend was reported missing. He was worried, of course. He loved his friend dearly. But, in the way you do when you're eleven, he also felt a sureness of how the world worked in a way that didn't always turn out the way it by all rights should have. 

"Yeah, mum and dad have been losing their minds over it. You'd think the world was ending over here, never mind how Ritsu’s parents have been handling things," Rex said rather blithely to Hop, his neighbor and longtime friend. Ritsu's longtime friend. Hop, perched on the stone wall next to Rex, tilted his head at him, confused. 

"They said Ritsu's gone though, right? That sounds awful serious to me," he countered, concern lacing his expression. Hop, by this point, had gathered the nature of the situation well before Rex did. Rex shrugged, swinging his feet aimlessly, heels battering the old stone wall beneath him. 

"I dunno. I mean, it can't be that bad. His parents are always making a fuss if Ritsu misses so much as snack time, and you know he's aces at building super secret bases. He prolly just made a new one and didn't tell them," Rex explained, hopping off the wall with a muted 'oof'. 

"Hey, maybe next time we go visit, we should ask him if we can sleep over in it! I bet it's so cool no one would ever wanna leave, and that's why no one's seen him yet!" He added excitedly. Hop nodded, eyes brightening, the enthusiasm infectious. 

"Yeah, that'd be awesome!" 

•••

Rex was ten years old when his parents were ready to let him take on his first Pokemon. Rex had been eagerly waiting for the day. Bursting with excitement when they told him the good news. But he asked, as politely as he'd ever asked anything, that he wait a year before getting one. 

"Rex, dear, this is all you've ever talked about for so long! I don't mind, but why the change of heart?" His mother inquired, surprised. 

"I was thinking I want to wait until Ritsu can get his, so we can get ours together and they can be bestest buds just like we are!" Rex beamed. His parents exchanged fond, if somewhat anxious glances. 

"I don't have a problem with it," his dad chimed in. 

"But... Ritsu may not even want a pokemon. You know how he gets around them," he added carefully, watching his son for his response. Rex, unphased, shook his head. 

"It'll be fine! He'd feel loads better if he had one looking out for him, I know he would! And so'd his parents! I bet if they quit nagging him so much they'd all learn pokemon can be really cool too!" 

"Rex! That's no way to speak about them!" His mother scolded him with a huff. Rex merely gave a cheeky shrug. 

"It's true though!" 

•••

Rex was fifteen years old when he decided to take on the gym challenge. His parents protested his decision, but he didn't care. He was tired of them getting on his case all the time anymore. Always the same thing, nag nag nag. Ever since Ritsu had disappeared, both his mum and dad had gone insane about keeping track of Rex, holding him accountable at all times. Rex was fed up with it. 

"Ready to go, Miki?" He whispered to his Charmander, sitting on the bedroom sill next to him. Miki wagged her tail, the embers flickering in a mesmerizing fashion in the early dawn light. 

"Char!" She squeaked eagerly. Rex shushed her, brushing a fingertip down her nose gently as a tactile reminder. He grinned down at the charmander in her little red bow. 

"Alright. Let's go then, before we wake mum and dad," he murmured, gesturing with a free arm. Miki took the cue, hopping onto his shoulders, clinging for all she was worth. Rex took a final look down the wall, and - judging it clear - hauled himself down the side, keeping a solid hold on the windowsill now above him. He felt around for good footholds, inching his way down. Normally he'd have no qualms about just dropping right down into the bush below, full force. But he had to be quiet. 

Miki whimpered slightly as Rex slid a little, missing what he thought had been a good ledge. She clung tighter as he fumbled around, adjusting his handholds once he felt his legs were stable. Rex took another look down. Should be good enough, right? 

"Hold on, Miki," he whispered, and with a push he launched himself off the wall, landing on his feet below just in front of the bush. The momentum carried him into a kneel, and he rammed his knees down into the grass with a pained grunt. Oh, he'd be feeling that one later. But that was later, and this was now. And right now, he had to go meet with Hop. 

"Whew.... Alright," Rex muttered to himself, shaking off the lingering pain from his graceless landing. 

"Let's go!" 

It would be several hours before his parents discovered what happened. Rex would be long gone for Wedgehurst by then, and fresh off of what would be his first of many legendary encounters.  

•••

Rex was sixteen years old as he stared down death for the first real time. As he placed himself between Leon and Hop, the latter crying for the former to wake up, pull himself together, Death stared down at the scene before it with a blank apathy. Rex glowered up at the unfeeling hand just waiting to scoop them all up within its chilling grasp. He didn't care what it thought it was, it was out of line! 

The creature - Eternatus, presumably - thundered a hollow, alien cry, and Rex readied his pokeballs. It'd have to kill him and his team before it could get to Hop and Leon. 

•••

Rex was still sixteen years old as he tackled the chairman to the floor of the power plant. He'd never cared much for the man and his glib manner of speaking, but it had never been personal. Before now, that is. 

Now? He wanted nothing more dearly than to make the older man pay for what he did. For endangering his pokemon. For endangering Leon. For endangering Hop, and nearly putting him through another loss. For nearly putting Rex through another loss. 

Well. Rex almost wanted nothing more dearly than to make the older man pay.  

Rex was sixteen years old as the other adults hauled him off of the beaten and battered chairman, voices blending together into a thick stew of concern and shock, worry and admonishment. 

Rex was sixteen years old as he was escorted from the Hammerlocke gym, into a throng of cameras and microphones pushing and shoving greedily towards him, ready to feed. 

Rex was sixteen years old as articles scrutinizing him flew off the press and as news reporters used his name as they would that of a storm in the daily weather report. 

Rex was sixteen years old, a hero of Galar. A public figure.

Rex was sixteen years old when he became the Champion.

Rex was sixteen years old. 

•••

Rex was twelve years old, nearly thirteen, when he attended his best friend's funeral. He didn't understand why. Ritsu was still missing. Not dead. 

According to the adults, it was because there were no leads, no sign of Ritsu anywhere at any point, and so they had to assume the worst. Well, then the adults hadn't looked hard enough! That wasn't Ritsu's fault if they were bollocks at searches. They shouldn't have been giving up on him just for that. 

Rex stood amid a mass of black, holding his baby charmander close to his chest. That shouldn't be out, someone had scolded, put it back in its pokeball. 

No, Rex had said, standing firm. Miki has just as much right to be here as anyone. She wasn't hurting anything.

The adults continued to shoot him looks for the orange bundle in his black-clad arms. He let them. 

Miki had been there for him through all of this. She didn't deserve to be cooped up in some ball just because the others thought she was lesser. 

At least Hop understood. Over half of the times that Rex had looked up to see a disapproving glare sent his way, he also saw Hop giving them a hard stare of his own, inching himself in the middle of the line of sight. Rex would give an appreciative smile and Hop would hit him with a small grin of his own. 

"You don't have to handle this alone", it seemed to say. 

•••

Rex was sixteen years old as he stood next to his best friend Hop, in the midst of a panicked evacuation from the Darkest Day heralding the end of the world.

“Aaaagh, shit. How are we going to find Leon in this mess?” Hop bounced on the balls of his feet anxiously, trying to crane his neck to see past the people flooding out of the building. 

“Stay calm. If there’s one thing I’ve learned researching about Ritsu, it’s-”

“Oh, drop it about Ritsu for one damned second!” Hop swore. Rex faltered, startled. Around them, alarms blared and a cacophony of voices swarmed in all directions around them. 

Rex stared back at Hop, brows furrowed in a question he was too speechless to ask. Hop waved his arm in a sweeping motion towards everything. 

“Now’s not the time! Just look at this! We have to focus on the now, on saving my brother!”

Rex found himself protesting without fully meaning to.

“Well, yeah, obviously. I wasn’t saying otherwise. I was jus-”

“No, I know! But it’s not the same! It’s not! The same!” Hop interrupted, voice raising.

 “My bro’s still alive! Ritsu’s dead! He’s been dead, and I’ve let it go all this time that you keep blithering on about bringing him back or whatever, but now’s not the time!”

Rex fell still. Hop glared him down for a moment before it was clear no one was going to make a move otherwise. 

“Ugh, screw this! I’m going to go find Leon! Or the chairman. Or. Something!” Hop scoffed, whirling on his heel and running off into the amorphous cloud of people.

Rex hesitated. 

He had to go help too. 

His feet felt welded to the floor. 

Rex was sixteen years old as he stood, lost and alone in a crowd of people fleeing the end of the world. 

•••

Rex was sixteen, going on seventeen years old, as the wind blustered around him, stealing his heat from his bones. He paid it little mind, all attention trained on the pokemon before him, its absurdly large head bobbing around in front of him. Chief Peony likewise bobbed in the air, suspended with telekinesis Rex had wagered, expression almost peaceful as words were spoken through him. 

"I am Calyrex. I am the one known as the King of Bountiful Harvests. I have borrowed this man's body in order to thank you in person...so to speak."

The wind was surely stealing Peony's heat away. He hoped the chief could hold out a little longer. 

•••

“Hold out just a little bit longer, Ritsu.”

Rex was eleven years old, nearly twelve, as he muttered this into his palm. He sat sullenly in his room, staring out the window, grounded for the third time that month for trying to take a train - and then ultimately, a plane - to Hoenn all by himself. 

He was tired of waiting for the adults to get off their arses and find his friend! It was obvious he needed to take matters into his own hands! Not that his parents listened to a word he’d say. What would they know? 

Dejectedly, he flipped through the pages of a worn comic book issue with one hand, disinterested in the panels and words he’d read over a dozen times by now. Only one speech bubble happened to catch his eye by chance as the pages scattered past, a shout bubble belonging to a desperate hero.

“Hold out a little bit longer.”

It was a phrase used often enough, especially in his favorite comics. Seriously enough. Ritsu was fine, Rex knew he was. But it felt appropriate, somehow, to apply it to the situation. 

Hold out a little bit longer. 

Rex was eleven years old, nearly twelve, when a knock on the door distracted him from a troubling line of thinking. 

•••

“Hold on there, Rex,” Rex’s mum had laughed gaily, keying the number into the rotom phone. Rex, twelve years old, sat shoulder to shoulder with Hop, bouncing his knee in impatience as the egg before him glowed gently. 

“But dad’s going to miss it!” Rex whined. 

“He’ll still get to meet the baby pokemon that’s come out of it,” Leon reassured over the speaker. Rex had insisted everyone be present, even if it meant Hop called his brother while Rex’s mum tried - and failed - to reach his dad. 

“It’s supposed to be a charmander, right?” Hop asked his brother. 

“Could be.” 

Rex startled from his pout, and his head whipped to the phone in Hop’s lap. 

“You said it was an egg from your charizard, guaranteed!”

“I mean, who can really tell with eggs?” Leon laughed. Rex had just about wound up a retort when a telltale crack sound snapped in front of him. All eyes trained on the source. 

The egg was hatching. 

Everyone watched, spellbound, as the egg broke open in a blaze of light. A little orange lizard sprawled out from the broken shell, stretching with a tiny squeak of effort, before large aquamarine eyes turned up curiously towards Rex. 

“Hullo there,” Rex whispered, leaning closer to the tiny charmander. 

“Want to be my friend?”

•••

Rex was twenty five years old as he stood, uncertainly, in Eterna forest, an aged flute clutched in both hands. Beside him, Miki, his charizard and most faithful companion, leaned down to huff at the instrument. Rex chuckled, and stroked at her muzzle soothingly. 

“Yeah, I hear ya. ‘S now or never, huh?” 

At his other side, Calyrex nodded sagely. 

“It’s time, Rex,” they confirmed. Rex took a deep breath in. And out. Then, holding the time flute up to his lips, he began to play. 

The trio heard a noise akin to if glitter were a sound, and a delighted laugh chimed across the forest. Rex opened his eyes to see Celebi, hovering in front of him expectantly. 

“Calyrex?” Rex prompted, still nervous. Calyrex nodded. 

“Celebi is ready,” they affirmed. Rex nodded, a smile starting to spread across his lips as it sank in. 

He’d done it. 

He’d finally be bringing Ritsu home. 

Rex was twenty-five years old as he looked Celebi in the eye and said,

“Let’s do it, then. Take me back to Hisui.”

[rockatanskette]

One of the running themes in "humans are space orcs" circles is the idea that humans will bond with anything. I can think of plenty of stories of humans making friends with wild animals, alligators, predators, creatures that aliens would immediately recognize as too dangerous for contact. But I was reading a story about two orangutans released back into the wild today and there's a certain element to that story I haven't seen so often: humans will bond with animals regardless of whether the bond is reciprocal.

For every story of a human making friends with some unlikely creature, there are dozens of stories of conservation specialists tranquilizing animals, tending to their wounds or illness, and releasing them because they're too dangerous to handle consciously. Stories of tagging birds of prey and timber wolves and Siberian tigers. Fat Bear Week? Any of those bears would rip your face off without hesitation. But they're round and fluffy and intimidating and beautiful and we love them even though they hate us. We make an effort to protect our monsters, because we love our monsters.

Imagine an alien planet that's experiencing ecological degradation. Their flora is dying, and they can't figure out why. And, offhandedly, in a diplomatic mission, an allied planet mentions that humans have successfully reversed similar devastation on Earth. So they reach out and Earth sends some experts to check it out. And what do they suggest? Reintroducing an apex predator that used to be a scourge against alien settlements. The species still exists in other regions of the planet, but it is slowly disappearing outside of its native habitat.

The aliens are askance. They've told bedtime stories to their young of these creatures: how they tear apart their prey, how they've eaten their organs and rip apart their homes. Some suggest that it's a trick—that the humans are trying to prompt them into destroying themselves.

But there are many alien cultures on this planet, with many different stories and some of them agree. The world watches in anticipation as the humans help their predators. They seek them out, these fearless otherworlders, putting them to sleep and tending their wounds. They keep track of the beasts, not to harm them, but to protect them.

At first the doomsayers' prophecy seems to come true. The predators devour prey animals like a feast, like a slaughter to people who have never been so close to the circle of life. But then, slowly, not over months but over years, comes change. The prey no longer eat the leaves and buds of every tree; some are left to bloom and fall. The refuse rots in the dirt, and the floods cease as the soil grows thick with compost and rotted bone, thick enough to hold water. The shapes of rivers change to protect their surroundings from the rain. The pollinators rebound.

Decades later, other cities and nations begin to accept this human myth of "conservation." Champions arise, alien champions, now, who go into the depths of the wilderness and the seas to protect those predators from the apathy of time.

Not all of them make it. This is something else the humans teach. Sometimes the tranquilizers are not enough. Sometimes the timing is wrong. Sometimes accidents happen. And when they do, the aliens look to humans for an answer for why they should protect these creatures who have killed those they love?

"Because they knew the risks," the humans say. "Because they would be the first to speak to save them. Because they taught you to see the beauty in the wild and you must not close your eyes."

So, despite themselves, they don't.

[sanguineterrain]

a bloody vow | jason todd

Summary: After the racy encounter with your knight, you seem to lose all progress made in your relationship. You hardly talk, and you're lonelier than ever. But after a house break-in has you running to Jason for help, you're forced to face each other, blood and all.

Pairing: knight!Jason Todd x gn!reader 

Word count: 2.3k

Warnings/tags: violence! Jason kills a man. reader and jason's house is broken into and the thief attacks the reader (but they're okay.) mentions of self-flagellation, religious guilt. reader feels very lonely without their big strong knight :( the eroticism of killing for another person. codependence. partial nudity. probably not the healthiest relationship but whatevs. Jason would do anything for them what more could you want?

the divider

Everything's changed since the morning that you found Jason with the whip.

He won't even eat with you anymore.

He accepts whatever you make and thanks you quietly, then eats his supper in the shed. He didn’t say much before—now you're lucky if you get more than a word from him.

He's also taken to punishing himself regularly. Jason does it far away, so he won't wake you. But you've seen his back and the welts peeking beneath his tunic and the spots of blood. You also see fresh injuries from his training, injuries that could be avoided if he was more careful. You've tried to offer him a salve to heal his back. He always refuses, flinching like a kicked dog if you get too close.

You fear that you'd pushed Jason too far that morning. You replay it in your mind, wondering what exactly had possessed you to act in such a vulgar manner. Exposing yourself to him like that after spying on him earlier—what were you thinking?

You weren't, is the truth. It seems all rational thought leaves your brain when you're around him.

It's truly like living with a ghost. Your feelings are jumbled, caught in a maelstrom of guilt and fear and desire. More than anything, you're unbearably lonely. You'd feared a harsh hand when you first were deposited into Jason's bed. You never imagined that there could be a worse fate than being wanted: being ignored.

So, it's been three weeks of this new routine. Jason has been disappearing at night to the pub. Not that he told you that—you know this because of the incessant gossip that flies around the market. It's not hard to decipher who the 'hulking knight' is when people stare at you.

You try not to think about what Jason gets up to. You really have no right to be angry if he finds someone to warm his bed. You're lucky he hasn't thrown you into the sea after your insolence.

Routine is all that keeps you sane. You do the washing and cooking without complaint. Jason still leaves you money to go to the market, and sometimes you save a couple of coins to buy books. You keep the books under a floorboard in your room. He never asks you for change.

You don't know if this routine will be enough, though. You wish Jason would just throw you out and be done with it. You're certainly not performing the duties that the king expected of you when he brought you here. Jason can hardly look at you, much less touch you.

You eat alone tonight. By the time you wash up and are ready for bed, it's late. Jason still isn't home.

Not unusual these days. You get into bed and blow out the candle. Maybe you won't wake in the morning. Then you'll both be free.

A crash jerks you out of slumber.

You're awake immediately, fumbling under your bed for the small dagger you'd secretly purchased when you first came.

Your first thought is that Jason came home drunk. But if he’s come home drunk in the past, you've never heard him, and it's always as quiet in the morning as it was the night before.

A chilling second thought hits you as the floor creaks outside your door.

Someone's broken in.

You quietly get to your feet, dagger in hand. If Jason were home, he would be here already, dealing with the problem. As it is, you're alone and completely vulnerable without your knight.

Your door splinters open. You stumble backwards.

"Wha' have we here?" A lantern shines in your face. "Look a' this. Pretty thing like you shouldn't be left alone."

You bolt for the front door.

“Oh, no no, you don’t.”

The intruder darts after you and stops you before you can open the door. He hauls you backwards and throws you against the dying fireplace. You land on your ribs and the wind is knocked out of you.

"Too big of a house for a little mouse like you,” the man says with a greasy sneer. 

You turn and lunge at him. You catch him off guard enough to stab his shoulder with the dagger. He howls in pain and shoves you off. Your head hits the wall, and for a moment, you fear you’ll vomit. But you don’t, so you stand.

"You bitch!" he shouts. "I'll fuckin' kill ya for that!"

That's all the motivation you need to run.

You’re aching all over, head pounding. Your legs are cold, being that you're only in a nightgown. You might be bleeding. But you keep running.

You run all the way into town, which feels like miles at this time of night, bruised as you are. It’s easy to find the pub, and it doesn’t even occur to you that you’re not allowed inside. All that’s on your mind is Jason. Find Jason.

You pound your fists on the door of the pub, crying.

"Jason, Jason!" you shout. “Help me, please! Please!”

The door opens. You stumble in, almost tripping on the uneven wood. Men stare at you as you enter.

"Jason!" you yell.

A knight you don't recognize stares down at you, blocking your path. You stumble back, grabbing the wall for support.

"Out," he snarls. 

"Please," you beg. "Please, I need my husb—"

He's shoved aside suddenly, ale sloshing over his mug. He growls in protest, but someone drags him away by the back of his tunic. 

Relief floods you at the familiar face who takes his place. Jason.

He's obviously shocked to see you here, eyes roving over you. His shirt is unbuttoned, a thin fresh cut on his cheek. He says your name. Every inhibition you’ve felt over the last month disappears.

"What—"

You throw yourself into his arms, weeping. Jason catches you, cradling the back of your head. You're surrounded by him, the rest of the world blocked out. He smells like the strong yellow soap you make in large chunks because it’s cheaper than purchasing it at the market. He smells like the home you share.

"What is it? Where do you hurt?" he asks quietly, shielding you from all the pairs of eyes. He rubs your back, bent over you. You cling to his neck, shaking with the memory of tonight.

"A man b-broke in," you say, and Jason's grip tightens. "He said–he said he w-would...k-kill…"

You trail off. Jason pets you, breathing even on your neck.

You know that you hardly have any rights, that the men here would sooner see you die than step into danger for you. Perhaps that includes Jason too. Perhaps it's too late. 

"I understand," Jason says into your ear. He doesn’t waver despite how you tremble. "It's alright. I won't let him hurt you again. I'm... I'm so sorry for leaving you alone."

He exhales, long and slow. You feel him begin to pull away. You panic, digging your nails into his arms. Jason quickly soothes you. He doesn’t chastise you for clawing him. 

"It’s alright. I'm going to handle this, and then we'll go home," he says. "Roy."

A redheaded knight approaches. You slowly turn your head. He smiles gently at you.

"Your Highness," he says, bowing deeply, and you feel a little lighter.

"Roy's going to take you home while I handle the thief," Jason says. "I promise that I'll be fast, alright?"

"You promise you won't leave?" you ask. “You’ll come home right away?”

Jason takes your hand, stroking your knuckles. "I swear. May God strike me down if I don't return."

“Oi, man, get your little harlot out of—”

Jason stands, rising and towering over the angry drunk. He’s immediately cowed under Jason’s gaze.

���Watch your mouth,” Jason says, even and deadly. The man leaves in a huff.

"I'm sorry for causing trouble," you whisper, cheeks still wet.

"You haven't," is all he says, before leading you outside.

You have an audience, which is absolutely humiliating, but neither Jason nor Roy pays them any mind, so you don’t either. 

Roy helps you onto his horse, and in the time that that takes, Jason is already headed back to the house by the time you and Roy start off. You realize then that you trust Jason. You've never met this Sir Roy in your life—Jason's never even mentioned having friends. But you trust that you will get home safely. 

“Jason won’t let him get away,” Roy says. You believe him.

The ride is short. You don’t know if you’ll manage to go back to sleep without Jason there, but the least you can do is host Roy, perhaps. You’re bone-tired, but you ought to be hospitable, shouldn’t you?

But as you get closer to the cottage, you hear voices in the woods. Jason’s horse is out front. You dismount without Roy's help and take off running. He calls after you. You ignore him.

You don't go through the house, not ready to face the destruction your intruder left in his wake. Instead, you go around and follow the stream into the woods. The voices get louder. When you get to the clearing by the shed, you stop.

The lantern has been knocked onto its side, flames flickering. But you can very clearly make out Jason in the dark. His shadow cuts a frightening figure that dances across the trees. Moonlight flickers through the canopy, illuminating him and the other figure. Your attacker.

Your attacker, who’s discovering that he picked the wrong house to rob.

Jason's got him pressed against a tree. Blood drips from the man's head and face. You stay a few yards away, behind a tree. The bark dully bites into your hand. You’re torn on whether you should make yourself known or not. Stop this or not.

"You touched them," Jason says, and does something with his sword that draws out a strangled groan from the attacker. The metal shines with fresh blood.

"I am worse than you," he continues. "I lost sight of my duty. My reason for living. Everything I do is for the star-crossed beauty my king captured for me. It's all I can do to pay penance for my sins. And you come into my house and dare to lay a hand on what is mine?"

The breath leaves you in a punch. You're cold with sweat, but something tugs at your gut. Something frightening. Something that tells you to stay hidden.

"I am worse," Jason says. "Because a good man would show you mercy and let you be hanged for your crimes."

"That fuckin' bitch deserved it," the intruder spits.

Here, Jason loses his composure. Here, he twists his sword.

"I will tear you apart," he says, voice a snarl.

And Jason does exactly that. It's bloody and gory. You feel sick a few times. You can't see everything in the fractured light, but you can hear it all. Bones crack, the man screams, but Jason doesn't relent. He drives his sword deeper and deeper. Blood gurgles from the attacker's mouth.

You watch on, feeling quite like you had the day you saw Jason fucking his fist.

The body drops with a thud as Jason lets him go. You imagine a sword slick with blood. You imagine Jason covered in it.

The realization is dizzying. You are an executioner, and Jason is your axe.

You don't know what you're more horrified by: the fact that it took you this long to look away or that you don't mind the stench of fresh blood.

Jason takes two steps and picks up the lantern. He sees you. He stops.

"He's dead," you say dumbly.

Jason swallows, face otherwise blank. "You... you were not meant to see that."

"I didn't." But you did.

He knows you did.

"Roy should've taken you inside," Jason says.

You can't understand why shame draws the lines of his shoulders. 

"I didn't want to go inside," you say. "Not without you."

Jason inhales sharply. Then he looks away. "I shouldn't have... I pray that you'll forgive me, but I understand if you don't."

Jason is covered in more than a little blood. Red spatters his cheek, though it looks black in the shadows.

He's slick with blood. You wonder if he'll bathe in the river. If you might help him.

You step forward. Jason is still. He watches you steadily as you approach.

You pull down the sleeve of your nightgown and reach for Jason's face. He flinches. You hush him.

"It's alright," you whisper.

He lets you touch his cheek. His eyelids flutter as you wipe the blood from his face. Then you hold his cheeks with both hands. Jason shudders.

"You can touch me," you say.

Immediately, Jason shakes his head, hands curling into fists at his side.

"No. I'm unclean. You shouldn’t touch me either, you’ll—you’re—”

"I don't mind." Your thumbs trace the contours of his face for a moment, feeling the hard line of his nose, the curve of his jaw, his full bottom lip. He lets you, eyes locked on yours.

Then, you pull up your nightgown, revealing your bare thighs, your underwear, your belly. Jason’s chest heaves. He immediately looks away. But you’re quick. You guide Jason's hand with your other hand. He stains your flesh with blood. You picture the sticky, bloody handprint he'll leave on your waist. That frightening feeling returns. 

Jason's hand is hot on your skin. He exhales shakily. 

"I'm sorry," he says again, cupping your waist. His fingers gently knead your skin as if he's testing if you're real. It tickles, but you don't move, fearing Jason will pull away at the slightest jerk.

"Don't sleep in the shed anymore," you say.

"Alright."

"Eat supper with me."

"Okay."

You draw Jason closer. Blood smears your clothed chest. His thighs warm your exposed legs. You will not let him punish himself in the morning. You will sleep on his chest if that’s what it takes. Only you are allowed to draw blood from him. 

"Are you mine?" you ask.

Jason's answer is instant.

"Yes."

[11cupids-tarot11]

18+ What has your future spouse been dreaming about lately?

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-Cupid 𖥔 ࣪ ᥫ᭡ꗃ⋆࣪.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Pile 1- The Hermit, Ten of Wands, Knight of Coins, Ten of Cups, Knight of Coins, and The Sun.

Oracle cards- "Let there be closeness between you, but always give each other space. Love never claims, it simply allows and gives."

"It is important right now to take a step back and spend some time alone. Instead of placing your focus on another, now is the time to give to yourself."

Okay, so right away I feel lots of sexual energy from your person 🙈 like they're gonna be very sexual towards you and have a high sex drive I feel like. I think they really like your back side, I feel like doggy style is one of their favorite positions lol this person has a few favorites I'm hearing 😀 lmao. This is someone who is going to make you blush a lot, like they're very flirty and physical touch might be their love language. I'm seeing someone who just can't keep their hands to themselves, they're gonna always be holding you, all over your body even while having sex or even if you two are just cuddling on the couch.

This person wants to get you alllll alone lol I just heard "all to myself". You could know this person? This person seems to want to plan a day with just you two lol I heard "gemme a hug" so see, this person wants to hug you as soon as they see you! Lol they're very handsy.

This could be someone you haven't seen in awhile, for some.

They're working on their finances right now! Like just piled in it lol, they want to work really hard to impress you! Take you out on nice fancy dates! They want to wine and dine you. They could dream and fantasize about taking a vacation with you, like disappear on everyone and just get away for awhile with just you two ;) they want to deepen y'all connection I heard within this time, not only sexually but emotionally as well, like real emotional support like a partner would. They want to know everything about you, they're that type. They want to lay in bed all day just listening to you talk. Real sweet energy! Your person might be more of a smooth talker than a dirty talker. I feel like just the way he makes you feel alone will turn you on vs him having to talk to you like some kind of porn star to get you turned on, so you'll probably find this person hot a lot 🤣 like you'll always just want to drag them off somewhere yk? LMAO I'm blushing, I think you're both going to be equally attracted and enamored with the other! Y'all's energy is so sexual together it's too much for me. Like I feel like if they're a freak in the bed you're also a freak in the bed! Y'all will match each other's energy lol cute! You two will be a freaking adorable couple.

I feel like this person fantasizes about the day they can court you basically loll. I never use the word court that is all them 🤣 they really want to show up to you like the Knight of Coins, like someone who is very stable and strong and just good enough for you basically lol. You might be really hot because they really really want to impress you pile 1 lmao!

I think they fantasize about seeing you naked! They can't wait to? They think you have a nice ass lol. I feel like this person is always smirking! Random lol.

Okay so with the Knight of Coins this person wants to dedicate himself to you >< awww so if he has any flaws that you don't like this person will for sure pull himself together! I'm talking about if this person smokes everyday and if you talk to them about it, they'll work so hard to quit for you! I feel like you're this person's muse! Not only that but I feel like this person fantasizes about being committed to you! They might dream about what it's like to be married to you often!

I feel like this person might have a tougher exterior! So this is why this person loves being around you! They can let down their guard and be themselves and they love that! They can be as affectionate as they want and you two never get sick of each other, that's because you two will work hard on balancing everything out in your lives together! Like work and play, you'll manage work and also have time for them! You guys will be able to spend moments away from each other and not miss the other because of how balanced you guys are, but when you see each other you're all lovey dovey once again still! How sweet omg!! 😭

Okay, I hope you guys liked this reading! Talk soon Angelz🪽💕

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Pile 2- Justice, Ten of Wands, Ace of Swords, Knight of Wands, Ten of Wands, Nine of Cups.

Oracle cards- "Deep in your heart, you already know they answer. Do what feels right."

"Sacred Union- Honor and treasure your relationship, for it is truly sacred."

Ooo lots of air energy. I feel like your person has facial hair, he's very masculine in bed, he likes it when you ride him in his dreams lol. He really really wants you to ride him 🤣 okay anyways let's read your cards now!

There's something about the hair here lol, for some the masculine has darker hair and the feminine has lighter hair and for others the masculine has lighter hair while the feminine has darker hair. Take it how it resonates!

First card out being Justice and I heard something about an orgasm, your person really wants to see you orgasm I hear. Like they want you riding them on top so they can feel it all over their body when you're done. You're person is really intense like sheesh. This person might be older or maybe more experienced in bed than you are, they'll teach you a lot of things so if you're into being submissive they really want you to be their student!

This person is very horny I feel like, I think they're really touch deprived and have "blue balls" they say? 🤣 You're person is making me laugh and blush like crazy they'll always surprise you with the things they'll say!

This person really likes to channel messages directly to you, they probably talk to you a lot. They'll love talking to you! They're so open about their fantasies with you it's crazy! They'll be very direct for sure, they won't beat around the bush. If they're horny they'll probably just flirt with you very directly and let you know they want to fuck you. This person feels very fresh and original actually, very different energy than I usually channel.

So yeah with the ten of wands I feel like your person is very tired right now and just wants to relax with you! This person fantasizes about more so letting you take the lead to make them feel good in bed, like they might fantasize about coming home to you and you're already in bed waiting to please them and help them relax after a long day at work. I don't think your person lets you take the lead often in bed, just when he really wants to relax! His fantasy 😇

This person fantasizes about you bringing them to a climax! 🤣 Riding them till they come basically. I feel like they self pleasure to this idea a lot too lol. I feel like this is more of a secretive dream of theirs too, like people could view them as a very masculine person in bed so when they let you take control it's because they really trust you with that vulnerable side of theirs. Funny because every card that flipped over in the beginning would hide away in my deck again and I'd have to go fishing to see which cards flipped over 🤣 they're shy about telling you this lol.

I feel like this person can't wait to show off their size to you as well, they think it's impressive! ;)

I feel like this person might fantasize about you two doing it in public places? There's an energy or a situation playing out in my head like two people having sex but very sneaky in unusual places while having to watch your back and keep a lookout lol.

With the Knight of Wands I feel like this is someone you might know already for a few, a specific message for someone that this could be someone you've been intimate with before and after they really wanted to pursue some sort of relationship after! It's like they got addicted to you after having you lol.

This person could fantasize about getting you pregnant? They could have a pregnancy kink I'm getting or might even want to get you pregnant to kind of trap you 😵‍💫 express boundaries please if you're not interested in having kids because this person will literally get you pregnant on purpose lol. I feel like they imagine what it would be like to have a family with you, they really want to see you as the mother of their kids! I think they see you as very nurturing so they think you'd make a good mom rather if you want kids or not.

I hope you enjoyed this reading!! Love youuu 🩷

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Pile 3- Six of Wands, Eight of Swords, Two of Cups, King of Wands, Queen of Wands, Ten of Pentacles

Oracle cards- "Healing- Imagine yourself and your beloved surrounded by light. Feel your relationship being healed this very moment."

"Manifesting Miracles- Your dream is soon to become reality. Trust your heart and continue to follow its guidance."

Hi pile 3 😊

So right away I picked up this is someone you could've had a relationship with before and it just didn't work out, I see you missing this person though! Maybe they've recently been on your mind or you've been wanting to reach out to them, but haven't! A specific message for a few.

So I feel like this is a relationship you've been trying to manifest, but I see some difficulties and uncertainty around the relationship and your Oracle cards make me feel like Spirit is saying to keep hope alive about this relationship! I feel like you guys are separated right now for healing purposes, maybe you both have things that you still need to work on within before you can work on the relationship.

With the Eight of Swords I feel like this person really wants to be immersed in you. I feel like this person is big on oral. They fantasize about you two being in a loving and committed relationship, one that's very unproblematic and full of love.

With the Two of Cups I feel like you two will be in union soon, I don't think this is goodbye for you two and I feel like that's the whole purpose of your reading today! Maybe this person fantasizes about coming back into your life, they could even have dreams about texting you and when they wake up they realize they've dreamed it all. I feel like this person tries to actually not think about you lol. These feel more like wishes than daydreams!

I feel like this person prefers to be more dominant in the bedroom lol they like it when you're submissive and give all power to them. They want to make you feel good, I feel like they dream about fucking you and you're just laying there taking it a lot of the time like "dick drunk" lmao.

So yeah I feel like this person is going to really find out what you like, they like bringing your body so much pleasure and I think this person will Intuitively know what you want. They fantasize about you giving them head but also can't wait for the day they can return the favor, I feel like they really want a sexual relationship with you that's very naked and carefree in a way. Like this person will be all up in your business 😭

With the Ten of Pentacles I think this person day dreams about pampering you, they could like to work for your attention/to feel like you're theirs. They might like to buy you lots of things just because you're their girl I'm hearing! You might notice this person buys you gold jewelry a lot or maybe they've already bought you something gold if you know this person.

That's all I'm getting for this pile, I was really hoping for all of the piles to reach the same lengths but I feel like this pile in particular doesn't have much to say 😭

I hope you enjoyed this reading!! Talk soon!!♡

Channeled songs- XO by Enhypen.

[dynamic-power]

This wasn't going to be more than a little one-off. But due to popular demand, here's a part two. 😄

Back to the Past part 2

CW: Brief panic attack

Part 1

"I... uh. What?"

Eddie, because Steve is certain now that this is, in fact, Eddie Munson, frowns a little. "Memories," he says, firmly but not unkindly. "What's the last thing you remember?"

"Uh." Steve's brain is racing, but not with anything particularly helpful.

He and Robin are going to the high school again to help with relief efforts. There's a strange guy named Argyle staying in Steve's guest room. He's taking Dustin to meet Wayne Munson soon. They have been given permission to recover whatever they can from the Munson trailer. Dustin wants to help because Eddie is-

Eddie is-

Eddie is sitting right in front of him, watching him with those big, dark eyes. He's being so patient, waiting for Steve to finish whatever processing he needs to do, but honestly, the only thing that truly catches Steve off-guard is the fact that Eddie is-

"You're alive."

Eddie's frown deepens for a moment before he seems to understand what Steve is saying. Once he does, though, he grins, wide and happy and contagious, just like Steve remembers.

"Yeah, Stevie, I'm alive."

"You're old."

Eddie collapses back against his pillow and bursts into laughter. Deep, belly-shaking laughter that has Steve biting back a smile.

When he catches his breath again, Eddie looks up at him with shining eyes. "Of course the two things you focus on are our wedding photos and my age."

"You aren't freaking out."

"Neither are you," Eddie counters, and he's right.

Strangely enough, Steve isn't panicking. Actually, in the last few moments with Eddie and the comfort of warm blankets and his warmer laughter, Steve's breathing had evened out again.

"What's going on? You don't seem surprised."

Eddie sighs and lifts his arms, crossing them behind his head. He shifts, putting a little more distance between their bodies. Steve wonders if he's done that on purpose.

Then Eddie's feet wiggle under the covers, trying not to kick the sleeping cat as he shuffles the heavy comforter down his body. Steve's eyes immediately drift down as his torso, and the scars, come into view.

They're horrific; slashes and starbursts and a whole chunk missing from his side just below his ribcage -

And suddenly Steve is there, in the Upside Down. His hands are covered in blood, Eddie's blood, and he can't breathe without tasting the stench of death and decay on the back of his tongue and his heart rate spikes as he darkness starts to tunnel his vision.

But Eddie, alive and smiling and laughing Eddie, is there, gripping his arm firmly and talking to him.

"Stevie, focus on me. Come on, love, I know you can do it. Focus on my voice and breathe with me." A large hand falls onto his chest, warm against his naked skin, and he does what Eddie tells him.

He focuses on Eddie's voice and his toucb and breathes with him until the darkness fades and he finds himself in an unfamiliar bedroom again.

"Good job, Steve. Now, can you count with me?"

Counting. Steve can do that. He knows he can, and he does until his breathing calms again. He's sweaty, and the cool air of the bedroom stings his skin. One of them has tossed away the covers, and the cat has disappeared, and he's sitting half naked in bed with Eddie Munson. He wants to laugh at the absurdity of it all, but the lingering panic and adrenaline only let him cry, and so he does, leaning against the familiar stranger beside him.

-----

Part 3

Tag list-

@clumsiluni @l0st-strawberry @aol19 @newtstabber

Lmk if you would like to be added/removed from the tag list 💜

[thisapplepielife]

Written for @steddieholidaydrabbles.

Impossible Things

Prompt Day 2: Fireplace | Word Count: 1000 | Rating: T | CW: Language, Temporary Canon Character Death | Tags: Post S4, Resurrection, Fix-It, Platonic Stobin, Pre-Steddie, The Party

Steve lights his fourth fire in three days. Stokes it, trying to get it really going, hotter, quicker.

"It's not even cold, dingus," Robin complains, and she's not wrong. If he's gonna have a fire burning all the goddamn time, he might have to run the air conditioning, year-round.

But he feels crazy. He keeps seeing things in the fireplace. Things that don't feel real, or right. Or maybe they feel too real and right. Maybe this house is haunted. A fire ghost? Is that a thing?

Robin sits next to him, and he watches the flames dance, making familiar shapes, faces. Impossible things. 

"Dingus, are you listening to me?"

He wasn't. Not at all.

"No, sorry."

"What are you gawking at?" Robin asks.

"A ghost," Steve says.

"A what?" Robin laughs, turning her head to see if he's kidding. He's not. Not really.

"A fire ghost?"

She cackles, but he's serious.

"Do you not see that?" Steve asks, because maybe he is crazy. But the flames in this fireplace take shapes, he's sure of it.

Robin watches the fire as intently as Steve is, then she says, "Holy shit."

The air is sucked out of his lungs.

"You see him?" Steve asks. 

"Eddie? Hell yes, I see him," she says, getting down on her hands and knees in front of the fire.

Steve follows. 

The fire dances, crackles and pops, flames flaring up. Embers floating. As if it knows they know, now.

"Eddie!" she shouts, "Are you haunting Steve's fireplace?"

There's no answer, but that doesn't stop Robin. Her wheels are already turning.

"How'd he get in there? How do we get him out of there? Is he a phoenix? Is he gonna rise from the ashes? We should call Dustin!" Robin rattles off, quicker and quicker by the thought.

Dustin is exasperated when he arrives, having flown halfway across the country. 

Steve's tired, eyes heavy. He's kept the fire burning, scared that Eddie might disappear if he lets it go out. That hasn't happened before, but he feels like now that they've acknowledged what they're seeing, that maybe they've interrupted, changed, the magic. 

Or whatever this is.

Maybe it's not Eddie at all.

"Are you sure you two aren't suffering from carbon monoxide poisoning? You did have the chimney inspected and cleaned before using this old thing, right?"

Well, no. Steve didn't. He didn't even know that was a thing. Whoops.

But he has CO detectors, and they aren't screaming at them, so it's probably not that.

"Just look, Henderson," Steve says, and Dustin squats between them. He doesn't react, and Steve is concerned that maybe they have somehow built up this shared delusion. 

"Oh shit," Henderson finally says, and Steve sags. 

"See? I told you, you little asshole. Eddie's in the fireplace."

"Well, excuse me for thinking that sounded crazy, Steve," Dustin snaps back, immediately rushing towards the phone. Calls are made. The weirdness has resurfaced in a totally unexpected way, and it's time to get the band back together.

It'd be helpful if Eddie could talk to them, but that doesn't seem to be an option. If he could run his mouth, Steve's certain he would be, incessantly.

They try witchcraft. Not that any of them especially believe in witchcraft, but they bought books, and are trying to spell him out of the fire.

It doesn't work. Nothing happens, nothing changes.

El lost her powers in the final showdown, and hasn't ever regained them. She stares at Eddie, face so close Steve's worried she's gonna lose her eyebrows, but she can't communicate or change things for him.

"Munson, Munson, Munson!" Mike yells, and they all look at him. He shrugs, "What? I thought he might be like Beetlejuice."

They all sigh. 

"We could burn something. Of his. See if that frees him," Joyce says, and they all turn to look at her. 

"What do we even have of his? It's been a decade?" Dustin questions. 

And they all look at each other. Steve has something, but there's no fucking way he's throwing it into a fire.

"Steve, you still have the battle vest, right?" Robin questions, and Steve wants to kill her. 

"We're not burning that on a hunch. What if that's what's tying him here, huh? Then what?"

Dustin runs up the stairs, and Steve gives chase. 

"We can try one pin, right?" Dustin argues, unbuttoning the Accept button from the vest, and Steve can concede to that. He's sure it's not gonna change shit.

"Fine," he snaps, but yanks the vest back into his own hands. 

Dustin stands in front of the fireplace, "Here goes nothing."

He tosses it in, and the fire flares so hot, Steve shields his face, pretty scared they may burn his house down.

But it settles, and Eddie is clearer. Like his image has been sharpened.

"That worked, right?" Dustin says. 

And they all kind of look at each other, like, yeah. It worked. 

Steve hands over the W.A.S.P pin.

After, Eddie looks even more solid.

"He's getting corporeal!" Dustin says.

"He's being punished?" Steve asks, brows furrowed.

"Jesus Christ," Dustin says, and well, excuse him. "Just do it, Steve."

Steve wants to bring the vest to his face, wants to hug it close, say goodbye, but feels too fucking weird about it with all these eyes on him. 

Instead, he squats down.

"This better fucking work, Eddie," he whispers, laying the denim on the logs, and the immediate flaming knocks him back onto his ass, but he hasn't been burned. 

It's a raging inferno in there, somehow contained, and they wait, frozen. 

Finally, Eddie steps out of the fireplace, looking exactly as he did the day he died, ten years ago.

Still sassy.

"Jesus H. Christ, do you know how many things I've haunted of yours, Harrington?"

"Uh…"

"The toaster. The mirror. That stray cat."

"I told you that cat was special!" Steve screams at Robin, "And you said no!"

The bickering, the blame, starts. But Eddie's here.

If you want to write your own, or see more entries for this challenge, pop on over to @steddieholidaydrabbles and follow along with the fun! 🔥

Notes: If there's one truth in Stranger Things, it's that Joyce Byers is never wrong and they should always listen to her.

[neteyamssock]

🧸ྀི 𝓲 𝓱𝓪𝓽𝓮 𝔂𝓸𝓾

ྀི 𝗣𝗔𝗜𝗥𝗜𝗡𝗚: neteyam x fem!metkayina!reader

ྀི 𝗦𝗨𝗠𝗠𝗔𝗥𝗬: neteyam wants to know why you dislike him so much.

ྀི 𝗪𝗢𝗥𝗗 𝗖𝗢𝗨𝗡𝗧: 2k

ྀི 𝗧𝗔𝗚𝗦: misunderstanding, sfw, miscommunication, etc.

➻ a/n: wrote this while eating breakfast and its unedited. i hate it lmao.

text divider credits to @/cafekitsune

MASTERLIST

“She's so loud, does she think everyone is deaf?”

Neteyam watches you kick Ao’nung as you whine about your stolen prey, going as far as throwing stones into his direction. Frankly speaking, Neteyam finds you extremely immature and childish, even more so than Tuk.

Lo’ak snickered on his side, tossing a piece of shattered shell in the water and watched it disappear. “You’re the only one that kept complaining about her, bro. People here don't seem to mind.”

Neteyam sneered, picking up a shell beside and observing it as he spoke. “I’m sure they're just putting up with her because they cannot get rid of her.”

Lo’ak looked at his brother with amusement. Neteyam’s one sided beef with you is something none of the family expected, but he finds it interesting to see how his brother crumbles into self doubt when someone finally doesn't look at him like a god. “you’re just saying that because she doesn't like you like everybody else. you’re not used to being disregarded.”

He said it in a joking tone, but it only fanned the flames inside Neteyam. That is in fact one of the reasons why he came to dislike you very much aside from the fact that you're polar opposites. It was because right from the start, you never once showed any cordiality with him.

When the Sullys came into awa’atlu, as Tsireya and Ao’nung’s paternal cousin, you also tagged along in helping them learn the way of the water. At first, Neteyam finds you extremely interesting, like a breath of fresh air, but as time goes by and your treatment of him never changes, he also begins to resent you for it.

He’s not used to it. Just like Lo’ak said. All his life, he had done everything to please his family and the Omatikaya People, and even when they came to Awa’atlu, he had done his best in making everyone like him.

You're just one tough rock that he cannot crack no matter what he does. Smiles don't cut it. Fishes don't do it either. Pretty shells collected are a lot more mediocre than yours. He totally cannot figure you out. You seem to dislike him very much, going as far as pretending he doesn't exist. He was unprepared for it, a total disregard from someone he wanted to be close to from the very start.

“If I were you bro? I would talk to her about it and clear shit up rather than sulking everyday.” Lo’ak patted Neteyam’s shoulder as he stood up, ready to meet Tsireya half way as she walked back to the shore.

“what is there to talk about anyway?” Neteyam grumbled to himself, flicking the shells away in annoyance. Lo’ak just shrugged and walked away, totally enjoying seeing his perfect brother in dilemma.

The oldest sully once again looked at you as you play with Tuk and Kiri, seeing how happy you were with his sisters. Deep inside, he also knew why everyone loves you. Despite your loud mouth, you are always sincere. You always mean what you speak, and people appreciate your honesty and straightforwardness, well except for neteyam.

your questionable behavior directed towards him is getting on his nerves. he's at the end of his patience with you, but his self control is holding him back from erupting and asking what the hell is wrong with you.

days passed and the day for the bonfire communal feast arrived. neteyam had heard from his siblings that you and Tsireya are to dance and sing to eywa in celebration for the excellent results of the hunt done yesterday.

neteyam had never heard you sing, nor seen you dance. he never thought you could do those things, but based on his siblings' words, you're quite good and proficient. Tuk says your voice reminds her of eywa's gentle guidance, and your body as the ocean waves.

it's just another reminder that he never really knew you, that you built a wall around you to solely keep him out. that you could be free in front of his siblings but would be hard as a rock in front of him. how can you be so cruel?

"there's never gonna be any progress if you just sulk and sulk and sulk everyday. you have to understand that not everyone is obligated to like you."

neteyam glanced at his sister, bitterness in his tongue. "yea, real helpful sister."

"whatever," kiri rolled her eyes and focused on the kava in her hand, paying no attention to the distraught neteyam beside her.

when the tempo of the music changed and the people parted to reveal you and tsireya in the middle, neteyam felt his breath stolen away by your beauty. you are stunning, that he knew from the very start. he never expected to see you even more beautiful. you make him go crazy inside and he didn't even know why. no matter how you ignore him, he cannot do the same to you. you're always clouding his mind, making him sleepless every eclipse.

neteyam knew that he's being obvious by not taking his eyes off you the entire performance, he knew that his mother are looking at him every time his breath hitch like he couldn't breath, he knew that kiri is laughing at him, but he just cannot stop looking at you.

so when the time to dance with other members of the clan came, he didn't hesitate to stand up and walk towards you in hopes that he'd catch you and ask you for at least one dance.

"can i ask for a dance?" he asked, breathless and hopeful as he looked towards you.

he saw you hesitate, and his newfound confidence shattered. his lips trembled until you took his hand and murmured. "...just once."

Tsireya looked at Neteyam’s yearning look directed at you and giggled to herself. Lo’ak also saw his face and snickered. “he totally has a crush on her! he’s just mad she doesn't pay attention to him.”

The younger metkayina girl’s eyes widened. Then, she quickly accepted it. It's not like she hadn't noticed that tension between you and Neteyam. She thought both of you will figure it out yourselves that's why she didn't interfere at all, but turns out both of you are dense enough that you're still not confronting each other about what you feel.

She looked at you and decided to finally help you out. Turning to her beloved, she said. “Sister does not dislike Neteyam. She's just like that to everyone she likes.”

It was Lo’ak’s turn to be wide-eyed. “No shit? Really?! I mean she never gave him a good look y'know? Totally acting like he doesn't exist…”

Tsireya pulled Lo’ak to sit with her in the sand. “Sister does not know how to deal with her feelings properly. When we were children, she once liked a boy from another clan that visited awa’atlu. He played with us all the time and really liked sister. But since she didn't know what to do, she accidentally made him cry before he and his family were about to leave. When the eclipse came, she cried so hard that it became everyone's favorite story to talk about during communal feasts.”

Lo’ak laughed but then slowly turned melancholic. Somehow, he relates to you. Often misunderstood because you cannot express yourself correctly, and it drives you to keep your thoughts on your own even more. “That’s sad… my brother… My brother is not really the one to pursue feelings. Back in the forest most of the girls our age liked him, some he was interested in, but really didn't bother doing something for it. He’s too busy taking care of us and training to be a good warrior. I don't know if he and your sister can even work it out at this point,”

Tsireya hummed, looking at you and to Neteyam every few seconds, before an idea formed in her mind. “I know exactly what to do!”

Lo’ak looked at his beloved’s bright face and can only pray for his brother’s well-being.

sitting down after dancing with neteyam, you friend immediately sat beside you with a grin. "how does it feel to dance with your beloved?"

you rolled your eyes despite the racing of your heart. you cannot admit that you almost sang in joy when neteyam asked for a dance. you didn't even know what happened during the dance as you just gone blank. he might have thought you were uninterested as he left right after the first dance finished. although you felt at loss, you acted like nothing and continued dancing with others.

seeing you like this, your friend teased you even further. “why don't you just go and proclaim your intentions, hmm? that you want to mate with ne—”

you covered your friend's mouth, scared that someone might hear. "be quiet will you! what if someone hear?"

your friend shrugged, "then you'd probably be forced to confront your feelings and then there would be celebration for your uni---"

"impossible," you cut her off. "we are never possible right from the very beginning. he's from the forest, i'm from the ocean."

"so what? you are both na'vi and obviously liked each other."

you sneered. like you? impossible. why would someone as perfect as neteyam like you?

he's the most perfect na'vi you have ever seen. a skilled warrior, with kind and loyal heart, and would do everything for his beloved family. he's the son of Toruk Makto, admired and well-liked. you? you're just a daughter of a warrior, a niece to the olo-eyktan of the metkayina. you have no real status, no great skills like neteyam.

you do not deserve him. "eywa knows that's not true, sister. eywa knows."

Walking into the lush greeneries of the island, you wonder where your friends are. Tsireya said she wanted everyone to gather in your secret place and play the demon’s game Truth or Dare. Although you detest sky demons, it didn't diminish your curiosity for their creations.

So against your better judgment, you still came when the eclipse started. Thankfully, you know your way in quite well and didn't get lost in your trek to the heart of the island.

As you went further, you began to notice the lack of noise your friends usually make. Lo’ak should be laughing boisterously by now, Tuk screaming, and Kiri wandering around. But no matter how you strain your ears, you don't hear any familiar noises.

So when you reached the hut where you and your friends planned to stay, you were shocked to see only Neteyam inside, seemingly waiting for everyone to show up.

Your feet froze and you cannot stop your heart from racing, hammering against your chest making you gasp for breath. Your heavy breathing was quickly noticed by Neteyam who was also surprised to see you.

The gears in your head turned and you already knew what your friends were doing. It must be Tsireya, who always can see through you and your thoughts. She must’ve conspired with everyone to deceive you and Neteyam.

Without thinking things through, you turned around and walked back to where you came from, but before you could even take a few steps, a hand forcefully held you back.

“Where are you going?”

“I’m going home.”

“But shouldn't we wait for the others?”

Rolling your eyes, you pulled your arm out of his grip. “Don’t you understand? They set us up for their own amusement. Now, if you can please let me go. I can't be alone with you right now. I swear to Eywa I will feed that girl to an akula—”

“Why can’t you be alone with me? Do you hate me that much?!”

“What’s your problem?!” You glared at him when he pulled you again, his fingers digging into your shoulder.

“No, what is YOUR problem?!” He looked at you sharply, trying to mask the hurt he felt inside when he heard your words. He had always known you don't like him, but to hear you imply yourself definitely hurts the most. Shaking his head, he continued. “Y’know what? Perhaps this is the time we finally talk. So tell me now, ocean girl! What the hell is your problem with me!”

You let out an unbelievable huff, feeling ridiculous as you shouted back. “Me?! It’s you always shooting daggers at me every time we meet! Why is that my fault?!”

“Because you treat me like shit!”

Both you and Neteyam froze with his outburst. He looked rather regretful for allowing himself to be vulnerable, especially in front of you. His self control is crumbling away.

“I do not treat you like shit! Don’t make things up!”

“Oh yeah, right! Maybe you don't treat me like shit because you treat me like I don’t exist! Don’t act like you don't ignore me all the time, as if it's a great burden for you to even pay me any attention. I’m tired of your shit! So tell me, what is your problem, ocean girl, so we can finally end this farce!”

With mouth agape, you stared wide-eyed at Neteyam. You have never seen him this angry before. Most of the time he’s mellow and polite, always greeting you every time you hang out with his siblings. It's only recently that he had somehow changed, always glaring at you, shooting daggers at you every time you passed by.

You tried to explain but you cannot find the right words. Looking at you like this, it only solidified Neteyam’s belief. The hurt in his eyes was palpable, so he looked away. He can't let you see him so affected by you. His pride is the only thing he can cling to right now, as you have stripped away everything from him.

“What? Couldn't speak? Did I hit the mark, ocean girl?

You gasp, chest heaving so fast as your heart rammed against your ribs. You cannot look into his eyes, too afraid to let him see the feelings you are trying so hard to avoid. “...I-I don’t dislike you, I-I—”

“Liar! You can't even look me in the eye! Tell me the truth!”

“I-I don't want to!”

“Well guess what, you cannot leave this island without telling the truth. Tell me, and I’ll let you go.” His tone has mellowed, a hint of begging in his voice. His grip on your shoulder was tight, it was hurting you but you cannot ignore the voice in your head that urges you to just tell everything and end this ridiculous argument.

“tell me, how can make you like me?"

your heart skipped a beat, processing his words. like him? you already like him so much that it hurts. how can he ask you that?

seeing you silenced, Neteyam’s chest constricted. His eyes stung, but he tried so hard to never let you notice. He cannot crumble in front of you. He doesn't want you to have the satisfaction. He wanted to hear you say that you hate him. That you detest him. That you cannot stand the thought of being with him. So it would destroy him silently, and he can finally rebuild himself piece by piece.

“Tell me!”

“I hate you because I love you!”

“Bull—”

Neteyam paused, eyes wide as he looked at you in disbelief. Your tears finally fell like waterfall as your knees gave away and you sobbed into the ground. You finally said it. The reason why you cannot sleep at night. The reason you tried so hard to avoid Neteyam in fear that he’ll see through you, that he’d be disgusted with your feelings with him. You tried to mask your love as dislike to protect your heart, because you know if you give in you’d just be shattered. You know well how this would end. He would never be yours.

“I-I hate you so much, Neteyam! For making me feel this w-way! I hate you for changing my life and making me c-confused! I hate you for making me fall for you!”

“W-What—”

You stood up without waiting for his reply. With all your strength, you ran away from Neteyam. You didn't care if your feet were hurting, and when you bumped into someone you didn't look at who it was. All you wanted was to leave this place and never see Neteyam again.

Lo’ak looked at your disappearing back and patted his brother's shoulder. Neteyam was still standing like a statue, in shock, staring at the direction you had escaped to.

“Cat’s finally out of the bag, huh. Took you guys long enough. Congrats bro, you finally confessed to your cru—”

Before Lo’ak could even finish his words, Neteyam took off like his tail’s on fire, running after you with a huge triumphant grin on his face. Tsireya and Lo’ak looked at each other and laughed, proud of their successful plan.

“Looks like I won this bet. Kiri better pays up!”

[knapptapp]

Elevator- JamesPotter x GN!Reader

WC: 950

You are stuck in a muggle elevator with James Potter, Who wont stop flirting with you

Tags: Fluff, angst(?), Sarcastic reader, Slytherin reader, Flirty James Potter, Insecure reader

A/N: Wrote this from a prompt, trying to dip my toes into the Marauders fandom not a fully fleshed out fic or anything. A little experiment

“This might be a bad time to mention it, but I really like your perfume.”

“Oh shut up,” You said with a scowl as you once again pushed the emergency button.

Professor Corbyn had thought it a wonderful idea to assign the seventh year class a lengthy list of ‘muggle activities’ to complete. She had also thought up the brillant of idea of assigning partners randomly. Though you had your doubts about the “randomness”.

Still, it was a project worth a good chunk of your grade. As much as you wanted to, you couldn't blow it off. Which is how you ended up stuck in an elevator with James fucking Potter. James who thought your perfume was of utmost importance at the moment.

“No seriously, it's quite lovely.”

You ignored him and pressed the call button. A moment passed…..Nothing. Great, not even the phone was working.

“Where did you get it? From Diagon alley or-”

“Can you be useful for once?” You interrupted.

James pushed himself away from the wall he had been leaning on, “Can you apparate?”

“No.” You admitted begrudgingly. Getting your license was on your to do list, there just hadn't been enough time. You were really starting to regret not putting it up higher on your list. You fanned yourself with your hand.

“Someone will come for us eventually.” James said with a shrug. He seemed completely care free and not at all worried about the situation at hand.

“Yeah. If we don't die from heatstroke before then.” You settled against the wall opposite of him and slid down till you were seated. It was just a tad bit cooler down on the floor.

“I know how you could cool off.” James said with a smirk. Just in case you hadn't understood his comment, he lifted just the hem of his shirt to reveal a sliver of tanned skin. You quickly looked away, but not before you caught a glimpse of a dark trail of hair disappearing beneath the waistband of his jeans.

“Oh fuck off.”

James copied you and slid down to the floor. Instead of sitting with his legs tucked up to his chest like yours, he instead stretched them all the way out. The elevator was tiny and James’ legs were long, the sides of his red converse knocked against your thighs. Cloth shopping had been another part of the project.

“Have I told you your shoes are ugly?”

“Many times,” James responded unphased, “You just don't like them because they're red.”

“Horrible color.”

“I think you'd look really nice in red. Got one shade specifically in mind actually.”

“Yeah, no” You fidgeted with the fraying sleeve of your dark green jumper. House pride was taken very seriously in Hogwarts. Wearing gryffindor red was an act of betrayal.

“You would,” He insisted, “I even have a jumper that would look perfect on you! Says ‘Potter’ right across the back.”

“Careful now James, I might think you're hitting on me.”

“Did it take you this long to notice?”

You knocked his foot away with your palm. James allowed it before he returned it back to tapping against your thigh. He was such a tease. He had been on this since you two got assigned partners.

“Ha Ha very funny,” You replied dryly.

He tapped his foot rhythmically against your leg, you tried your best to ignore it. The elevator was completely silent. The music had cut off when the elevator had come to a sudden stop with a metallic screech. There was nothing but the sounds of James and your breathing.

Your whole body was on edge. You couldn't help but keep anticipating the worst. Any movement made you feel like the elevator would go crashing to the ground below, You were stuck on the seventh floor and you had heard one to many horror stories.

“I'm bored,” James said, “We should do something.”

“Like what?”

“Why don't we play a game of truth or dare?” suggested James.

“Truth or dare? Seriously?”

“What else do you have in mind?” he replied smugly.

“Fine, let's play.” you agreed reluctantly.

“Okay, I'll start. Truth or dare?” James challenged.

You sat for a moment, mulling over your choices. There weren't many dare options while stuck in an elevator, but everyone and their mothers knew James Potter was a master prankster. He could probably come up with something within a second. Hell, he probably already had fifty dares planned out. Better to play it safe then.

“Truth.”

“Okay..” James pretended to think for a moment, he stroked his chin and gazed up at the roof dramatically, “Why don't you like me?”

Oh. Straight into it. You looked away from him uncomfortably. The thing was, you didn't not like him. Honestly, it was the opposite. But you couldn't let him know that. You would never hear the end of it.

“I don't not like you…You're just loud…” You said carefully.

“I think i’m quite charming honestly,” James smirked.

“Yeah, you think that.” You said with an eye roll

“You don't think I am?” James tilted his head to the side, one loose curl fell in front of his eyes. God damn it. Yes, you wanted to say. I've thought that you are charming since fourth year. But of course, you don't say any of it.

“Not at all.”

“You're forgetting the rules of the game again.” He teased. He leaned forward, only a couple inches closer than before, but still all too close.

“I’m not lying.” You attempted to sound confident and self assured but you couldn't manage to bring your voice above a whisper.

The gods must have heard your prayers because the phone on the wall rang. James and you stared at each other for a moment. He finally pulled his eyes away from you and stood up to answer the phone. You and your feelings were safe for another day.

[simpjaes]

how about jealousbf!heeseung who takes you to the empty soundproof vocal rooms and stuffs you full with no mercy after you looked at jay a little too much while they were doing their dance practice

tags: front man heeseung, wannabe groupie reader, he's not her bf !! non idol au, they're just in a band !!

wc: 1k

looking at jay was never an issue until heeseung was looking at you.

who would blame you though? it's not your fault Sunghoon always brought you to band practices. it's not your fault that Heeseung never really paid attention to you before they managed to finesse their way onto a label.

then again, it's not like you knew that Heeseung was always looking. You always seemed to share a gaze between him and everyone else too, so it wasn't really a competitive thing until he noticed you consistently looking at jay more and more.

Hah, always the fucking guitar players too. What do they have that he doesn't? Aside from skilled fingers?

Arguably, Heeseung's fingers are quite skilled too. Just because he's the front man doesn't mean he can't fuck like a guitarist.

So, well, it all really started when you didn't show up. It's rare that you don't, honestly, and all the members seem to miss you when you're not there but man.

Jay sure is a fucking asshole.

"I think she wants me." He joked that one day, nudging Sunghoon and watching them both nod in confirmation that yeah, it's probably true.

"I could take her into one of the soundproof rooms, none of you would even know." he said on that same day, giving Heeseung the idea to do it first.

After all, it's not like he hasn't seen you disappear into sticky bathrooms or dingy band van's at several small town shows with other bands and their members. Why would he be any different? Why would Jay be any different?

Exactly. You're a wannabe groupie and Heeseung is far too willing to feed into your fantasy of fucking a rock star now rather than later.

Jay likes the chase. Heeseung likes the hunt.

And so, that next "practice?" Of course you showed up. Bright eyes, slutty outfit, doe eyes blinking in awe at a bunch of guys who haven't even debuted past a burned CD with shit sound quality? Heeseung approaches you.

Being the front man and all, it's not hard to get you alone as the members take their time doing their own work on the new song. Heeseung's vocals were all finished, and Jay was too wrapped up in his guitar solo recording to notice you eye fucking him again.

"Welcome back, we missed you last time." Heeseung starts in a sweet voice, opening his arms out for a hug.

You kind of quirk your brow at him because, well, you've known the dude for like two years by this point but never has he done more than an awkward side hug while covered in sweat and the scent of musk and alcohol after a show or a hard practice session.

"Oh?" You question, surprised by the grip he holds on you.

"Wanna come with me somewhere?" He asks again, even though the question felt more like a demand in the way he immediately starts dragging you away from the recording studio and into the hallway.

You don't really say much, being more of a go-with-the-flow person than anything. You just shrug, following him into what you obviously know is one of the sound proof rooms they've used previously to practice the noise music.

Working out the kinks of a song doesn't always sound so good, yknow? Nobody really wants to hear that shit til it's ready either.

And it's not like you're stupid or anything. You know what this is, when he steps inside and closes the door behind you. In fact, you're entirely down for it despite not really knowing why the band's front man suddenly wants to be alone with you.

"Hah," Heeseung smirks, watching you already start to slip your shirt off. "I knew it."

You just kind of look at him.

"Well, what else would I expect after being dragged in here?" You ask, pausing your movements and allowing your shirt to fall back into place against your waist.

"I don't know?" He laughs back, rolling his eyes at you briefly before boxing you up against the wall. "Jay?"

You smirk.

"Honestly? Yeah. We've been eye fucking each other for ages." You laugh, brushing Jay off entirely. "Didn't expect you to be the one to come after me."

"Well, if you would have stopped staring at his fingers for thirty seconds maybe you would have noticed it."

"What can I say? He moves fast."

"And you think I would? You've seen what I can do with my tongue, right?"

You pause, noting all those instances during shows where he definitely treated his tongue like some sort of mating ritual. Licking up his microphone, flicking it between his fingers, even going as far as flattening it at multiple city girls that seemed to want a bad boy for the night.

"Don't think I have, actually." You roll your eyes playfully, blinking at him innocently. "Care to elaborate?"

Man, he elaborated.

Without another word, actually. Which was a bit of a shock to you, considering he likes to rasp those vocals all night through song and shrieks. Ah, the sounds are so much different vibrating when his tongue is buried into you, moving faster than you'd have expected.

What's worse? You never really noticed how pretty his vocals could sound until he was muttering out words of degradation towards you. He went in raw, explaining that it's his right. That he should be the first to feel your pussy squeeze him dry. Whispers questions of how many other men have been in you like this. Asking if you've always been this breathless for them. Asking why you're not screaming loud enough for Jay to hear, even through the soundproof room.

In reality, your throat is dry from allowing yourself to be loud for him. Rasping and panting confirmations of his filthy words, only to feel him plunge into you harder, harder, harder. Like a mantra of a song he only wishes he could write.

The proof of having you before Jay could, the proof of fucking you better than anyone else could.

By the end of it all, to Heeseung? Doesn't really matter if every other member of his band has a turn with you know. He's only gonna ask what his dick tastes like. He's only gonna ask if they fucked you cross eyed too. Because he knows the answer will be no.

Why?

Because you keep coming back for more. Up until Jay takes note, mentioning a month later to Sunghoon, right there in front of everyone,

"What's gotten into her? She practically ignores me."

And of course Heeseung smirked, giving him the answer he probably didn't want to hear.

"Me."

[amaranthhiding]

The unforgiving waves pushed him further under, arms and legs flailing wildly. In his panic, he made the mistake of trying to breathe. To scream. All it got him was a mouthful of water and a burning in his lungs.

DeanCas Horrorfest presents:

A Word in the Mists

Author: Hiding Amaranth Artist: lamiasage Rating: M Word Count: ~23,000 Tags&Warnings: pre-relationship Dean/Castiel, Dean & Jo, Canon-Adjacent AU, Case Fic, Monster Hunt, Mystery, Ship at Sea Setting, Isolated from the Outside World, Sarcasm, Angst, Canon-Level Depictions of Blood and Violence, Minor Character Deaths (not TFW), Brief Hints of Suicidal Thoughts, Fear of Drowning, I can't use more tags because I don't want to spoil the surprise

Summary: Mist as far as the eye can see. A gloomy ocean that seems to swallow up the sunlight like broken dreams. An old, rusty ship that creaks with every inch of movement. And a crew that could compete in an award for grumpiest people alive.

Dean really hates pretty much everything about this case, and would love nothing more than to call it quits and turn this ship around—if there wasn't the little issue of the disappearance of thousands of people across ten different ships on the open sea.

Saving lives is what he does… though he has to question if he isn't doing more harm than good when the disappearances begin on his own ship—and he still hasn't even figured out what kind of monster they're dealing with.

Preview: Nothingness devoured the horizon. Dean glanced back over his shoulder, but the wafts of mist were too thick to see anything beyond the ship's railing. A chill crept over his skin at the realization that he couldn't even make out the other end of the ship itself. The chain of friendly, orange lights hung across the deck didn't stand a chance, its brightness swallowed up effortlessly by the blanket of fog. It was a mirror to the way this blasted mission seemed to soak all happiness out of him.

Maybe coming up here had been a mistake. He'd hoped the fresh air would help him clear his head—that it could ease some of the tension that had stubbornly settled in his shoulders ever since he'd set foot on the Fate's Whisper. Instead, all he'd achieved by stepping out on the deck was that the tight knot of worry somewhere deep in his chest solidified.

Coming this October to @deancashorrorfest!

The Apocalypse is nigh, and the Prophecy is false.

[pretzel-box]

Hi Chea!!! First of all, I read some of ur fics, and I absolutely loved it. You did such a great job :D

Second, I wanna make a fic request because why not lol. It's my first time doing this, so I'm a lil nervous ishdudjudos

Can I pls get a fic where reader gets ill (like probably a cold or whatever) because of them constantly entering bodies of water and by the time they reach Sebastian, they're wet and miserable as hell so Sebastian just decides to keep them in his shop to rest and recover lmao

(Sorry if this ask is a mouth full aishdidhhd)

Tags: GN!Reader, Can be read as Established Relationship, Reader has a cold probably, comfort, slight fluff.

Words: 1,1k

Authors Note: Sorry for the wait! ÓwÒ It took me a while to gather my creative brain cells. I actually edited this story twice, so if there are any weird words or logic mistakes then I overlooked something!

It had started as a small, nagging tickle in your throat—a little cough here, a sniffle there. Nothing serious, you told yourself. But days passed, and that tickle had grown into something worse. Yet, despite it, you kept going, pushing through the feverish haze that had begun to creep in. After all, the job wasn’t going to finish itself. Each day, you found yourself wading through rooms, water, and debris, trudging through wet halls to retrieve all assets and the crystal that were needed, drenched to the bone in cold, murky water.

You told yourself that once you were done, you’d rest. But for now, you have to keep moving. And so you did. Rest means death and death isn't something you aimed at for now. So it either meant pushing through or giving up.

By the time you reached Sebastian’s shop, the combination of the relentless water and your refusal to take care of yourself had finally caught up with you. The cold had settled deep into your bones, and your wet diving suit clung to your skin, sticking uncomfortably as you stumbled inside his little store. The warmth of the room hit you like a wave, making your head swim, and you stopped just inside the door, breathing heavily.

Sebastian, stood in front of a table and sorted through papers, glanced up the moment you entered. His usual sarcastic smile froze as his gaze took in your appearance.

You looked a mess—soaked, shivering, and pale, with dark circles under your eyes and a slight flush on your cheeks from the fever you were clearly running. Water dripped from your hair, forming a small puddle on the floor beneath you. For a moment, he just stared at you, incredulous.

“Are you serious?” Sebastian’s voice broke the silence, his usual dry tone tinged with something close to concern. “You look like death warmed up in a microwave. I don't sell coffins here yet.

You tried to muster a reply, maybe something sarcastic, but all that came out was a hoarse cough. The effort left you feeling even more drained than before. Sebastian’s expression softened as he sighed, slithering over to you with a quick glance at the water-soaked floor.

“Come on,” he muttered, shaking his head. “You're staying here. There’s no way I’m letting you go back out like this.”

You didn’t have the energy to argue—not that you would, honestly. The idea of staying in Sebastian’s warm, quiet shop was far more appealing than going back out into the cold, miserable hallways. You let him guide you through the cluttered aisles, past shelves filled with oddities and relics, to a back room that you had only seen in passing.

It was cozy, with a pile of blankets by the barely functioning heater and a couple of scattered books on a nearby table. Sebastian, ever practical despite his tendency to tease, pointed to the pile of blankets. “Sit. Don’t move.”

You collapsed into the pile, grateful for the soft fabrics that seemed to envelop you. The warmth of the heater seeped into your cold, aching limbs, and you closed your eyes for a moment, just trying to shake off the chill that had settled deep into your bones.

Sebastian disappeared for a moment, only to return with a towel, some dry clothes, and a steaming cup of whatever liquid he had in the cup. He tossed the towel onto your lap and then held out the cup, raising an eyebrow when you blinked up at him, surprised.

“I’m not going to sit here and watch you shiver to death,” he said, the corners of his mouth twitching in what might’ve been a smile. “Drink up, and then get changed. I’ll turn around if you’re shy.”

You snorted at that, though it turned into another cough. “I think I’m too tired to care.”

Still, his comment brought a bit of warmth to your chest. Sebastian wasn’t always the most outwardly affectionate person, but he had his moments. You took the cup from his hands, wrapping your fingers around it and letting the heat sink into your cold palms.

The tea-like liquid was soothing as it slid down your throat, easing some of the tightness that had built up. Meanwhile, Sebastian busied himself by pulling a blanket from a nearby chest and draping it over your shoulders, creating a little nest of warmth around you.

“Why didn’t you say something?” he asked quietly as he settled onto the edge of a nearby table, watching you closely. “You’re not exactly subtle when you're sick.”

“I thought I could handle it,” you mumbled, tugging the blanket closer. “Didn’t want to bother you.”

Sebastian gave you a look that clearly said, *Are you kidding me?*

“You’re soaked and half-dead, and you thought that wasn’t worth mentioning?” he asked, crossing his arms. “I think that qualifies as a situation where bothering me is okay.”

You sighed, leaning back into the blankets. The heater running softly in the background, the sound oddly comforting as the warmth of the tea and the room finally started to loosen the tightness in your chest.

“Sorry,” you muttered. “I’m just… tired.”

“I’d imagine so,” Sebastian replied, his voice softer now, less teasing. “But next time, just tell me. You don’t have to go through this alone.”

You met his eyes, feeling a mix of gratitude and exhaustion wash over you. “Thanks.”

He nodded, brushing it off with a wave of his hand, though you could tell he was relieved that you were finally letting him help. “Yeah, yeah. Don’t get all sentimental on me. Just rest, alright?”

You smiled faintly, shifting in the pile to get more comfortable. The heater, the warmth, the steady presence of Sebastian nearby—it all worked to lull you into a sense of peace that you hadn’t felt in days.

As you started to drift off, you felt a gentle hand on your shoulder. “I’ll keep an eye on you,” Sebastian murmured. “Just sleep.”

For once, you didn’t fight it. You let yourself relax, your body finally giving in to the exhaustion that had been gnawing at you for so long. And as you fell into a much-needed sleep, you knew you were safe. You were warm, you were cared for—and for the first time in a while, you didn’t feel so alone.

When you woke up later, the room was dim, and the heater had cooled down a bit. Sebastian was still there, sitting in a nearby corner, flipping through a file. He glanced up when he noticed you stirring.

“Feeling better?” he asked, his tone casual, though there was an underlying note of concern.

You nodded, your throat still a little sore, but the rest of you felt… better. Lighter, maybe. “Yeah. A bit.”

“Good.” He closed the book and stood up, stretching. “You’re staying here until you’re completely better. I’m not letting you back out there until I’m sure you won’t collapse in a puddle somewhere.”

You smiled, feeling a warmth spread through you that had felt oddly comforting. “Deal.”

And for the first time in what felt like forever, you truly meant it.

[xomakara]

Wanted Dead Or Alive

(re-posting from my old account seulrinnie-rinrin/xomakara-secondary)

SUMMARY | A handsome cowboy is injured while tending to a wild horse he's rescued miles from town. You're on the run, and can't afford to stop on your way to your destination – but you can't ignore the wounded man when you see him, and decide to help him despite the personal risk.

PAIRING | Mingi x Reader

GENRE/CONTENT/WARNINGS | Cowboy!Mingi, Heiress!Reader, Western au, non-idol au, smut (with some plot), consensual sex, vaginal sex, unprotected sex (wrap it up y'all), slight fingering, dirty talk, pet names (darlin', sweetheart, etc), praise kink, bathtub sex, bed sex, gunfights, mentioned abuse

RATING | Mature, Explicit, 18+, NSFW, MDNI

LENGTH | 7,929 words

TAGLIST |  --

NETWORKS |  @cromernet (reuploaded so only tagging nets that haven't reblogged it yet)

AUTHOR’S NOTE | Excuse me, while I go bathe myself in holy water.

You can't help but spur the horse forward, your heart thudding in your chest. It had been hours, but the adrenaline was still running rampant in your system, your stomach clenching with dread.

You could hear the sound of hooves, and your body was tense and tight as you pulled the reins, hoping the sound wasn't heading toward you.

It had all started when you woke up with your ex-husband's hands around your throat, a wild look in his eyes. He'd seemed desperate and he had looked at you with an unfamiliar expression as he tightened his grip.

The memory of his hands squeezing the air out of your throat, the burning in your lungs as he tried to squeeze the life out of you. The memory had tears springing into your eyes, and you swallowed them back, forcing the panic away.

He had almost succeeded, if not for the fact that you were more desperate to live than he was for you to die.

You'd fought him with everything you had, and with the steak knife that you hid under your pillow, you stabbed him in the hand so that you could breathe.

And then you ran.

You had a small fortune that you'd stashed away, and you had a bag packed for days like this.

It wasn't enough to keep you safe for very long, but it was enough to get you where you needed to go, and it was enough to keep you warm, and fed and hidden from prying eyes.

You had planned to slip out of town under the cover of darkness and disappear. You'd heard that it was possible to disappear entirely, to leave the country, and you were prepared to do it.

You had no ties, no one waiting for you, nothing to keep you in town except for the fear of being found.

The sun is rising over the horizon, and you know you should probably stop for a rest, but you don't think you can.

You want to keep moving until you can't anymore.

You know there are men on your trail. They're not smart enough to keep up with you, but you know they're going to follow you for as long as it takes.

They'd followed you to this little town, and you knew it was only a matter of time before they found you again.

And they wouldn't stop until they got what they wanted.

You know it was the money they were after.

After all, your family had a lot of it, and your husband had known about it and had wanted to get his hands on it for some time.

That's why he married you.

Sure he was rich and everyone knew it. But with the way that he spent it, he was drying out his funds, and he knew that if he didn't find some source of income, he'd be destitute within the year.

He wouldn't tell anyone, oh no, that would damage his reputation.

Instead, he'd taken a loan and used that loan to buy the nicest ring that he could afford.

And then he'd gone and found himself a rich wife.

He'd been careful in his planning. He'd been charming and he'd made you feel things you'd never felt before. He charmed his way to get your parents' favor, and they'd approved of him almost immediately.

The wedding had been the biggest social event that had happened in town in a long time.

But it didn't matter how well the two of you were liked, because your ex-husband didn't know how to stop spending, and now people were beginning to talk.

And they were beginning to ask questions.

You had been his perfect cover, his perfect alibi, and now that he was losing his power and prestige, he wanted to keep the one thing that was left to him.

And that was the money.

You didn't mind giving him the money, he'd been good to you, and he'd loved you, and had cared for you. But when the love turned to abuse, and the care turned to control, you decided you were better off without him.

So, you left him. Divorced him.

And now he was coming after you, and after the money.

He would not stop until he got what he wanted.

And neither would the men that were chasing you.

Your horse had been galloping for hours, and you were starting to slow down. Your body was sore, and your legs were cramping, but you couldn't bring yourself to stop.

You could hear them getting closer, and it made your blood run cold.

Your eyes scanned the horizon, looking for a place where you could stop. Somewhere you could hide, maybe.

There was a corpse of trees not too far from the road, and you veered towards them, hoping that they were thick enough to hide you from the men who were pursuing you.

And then you see him.

Tall and handsome, leaning against the side of a tree, holding his side. His head is tipped back, his face twisted with pain, and you feel your heart drop at the sight.

You pull your horse to a stop, your hands trembling. You're afraid. You're so scared. But you can't just leave him there, bleeding.

He's a big guy, with broad shoulders and muscular arms, but right now, he looks so small.

He opens his eyes, and his gaze finds yours. His eyes are dark, and you can see the pain in them.

He lifts his hand, and he waves at you.

"Hey there, little lady." Voice hoarse and gravelly. "Looks like I could use a bit of help."

You couldn't help but dismount your horse and carefully walk up to him. "What happened to you?"

His face twists and his shoulders rise as he inhales deeply. "Long story short, I got shot trying to round up some horses for Ol' Man Kim. A bullet got lodged in my side. I ain't sure if it went clean through, but I need a doctor. I can't make it to town."

You hesitate, chewing on your bottom lip. "I can't take you into town, Mister. I can't afford to draw attention to myself."

He gives you a strange look. "Why would that draw attention to yourself? Do you have a criminal record or somethin'?"

You shake your head. "No. It's a lot more complicated than that. It's a long story."

"You can make it short like I did mine."

You laugh softly, your heart skipping a beat. He has a nice smile, and he's even more handsome when he laughs. "Okay. Well, long story short, I'm on the run. My ex-husband is trying to kill me for my money. And some other guys are after me. I can't stop here or else I'm putting myself at risk. I have to keep moving."

He studies you for a moment, his dark eyes boring into yours. "If you're willing, I could be of some assistance. I'm good with a gun, and I can keep you safe."

"But you're injured, mister."

"It's just a flesh wound. I can still use a gun. If you're worried, I can ride along with you, and when we get to the next town, I'll find a doctor. Until then, I'll watch your back. I promise I won't let anyone hurt you."

You hesitate, chewing on your bottom lip. "Why would you do that? You look like the type that would rob me instead."

"Nah, I may be a cowboy but I don't harm women and children." He reaches out his hand, palm up, a kind smile on his face. "I'll protect you, Miss. And when I'm healed up, I'll help you get to wherever it is that you're going."

You swallow, unsure if you should trust him or not. But he seems like a decent guy, and you could use all the help you could get.

"I don't know..." You bit your bottom lip. "I can't afford to pay you right now..."

"That's alright." He smiles again, and it's a reassuring smile. "I don't need any money. Just some help."

You hesitate, your heart racing. "Okay."

He grins. "Well, alright then. What's your name, miss?"

"Y/N."

"Mingi. A pleasure to meet ya."

"Likewise." You nod and walk towards your horse, taking hold of his reins. "You think you can get up on your own, Mingi?"

"Sure thing." Mingi grunts and pushes himself away from the tree, his hand clutching at his side. He takes a few steps, his face twisted in pain. He staggers and nearly falls, but you're quick enough to catch him before he hits the ground.

You grunt and strain to keep him upright. "Easy there."

He looks down at you, and you can see the embarrassment and pain in his eyes.

"Sorry."

"It's alright. Just lean on me, and we'll get you up on the horse. We're not going very far, and I think I saw a doctor a few miles back."

Mingi nods and takes a deep breath. You can't help but notice that his hair is messy and windswept, and his clothes are rumpled. Despite that, he was still very handsome.

You put your arms around his waist and help him climb onto the horse.

"Thank you." He says, his voice soft.

"You're welcome." You reply a small smile on your face.

You can't help but notice the way his broad shoulders taper into a narrow waist. He has the build of a man who does hard work for a living, and his dark brown eyes are bright and clear. He's the first man who's been honest and kind to you in a long time.

As you climb onto the horse, Mingi wraps his arms around you, pulling you close to his chest.

You feel safe and secure, and you can't help but notice how his arms feel around you.

His scent is warm and masculine, and you feel yourself relaxing into him.

"We should get going." You say, your voice barely a whisper.

"Right," Mingi says and nudges the horse forward.

As you ride away, you can't help but notice the way he tightens his arms around you, and how his lips brush against your ear.

You shiver, and close your eyes, enjoying the feeling of his arms around you, and the safety you feel in his embrace.

For the first time in a long time, you feel hopeful.

You arrived in the small town that you passed a few miles back and the first thing that caught your eye was a doctor's office.

Mingi had been quiet the whole ride. The pain must have been intense. You pulled your horse to a stop and quickly dismounted. You helped Mingi off the horse and slowly made your way into the building, his tall frame leaning on you.

"I need a doctor! Now!" You shouted and looked around the waiting room.

"Please wait your turn." A woman, who looked like a nurse, muttered as she sat at a desk looking over some papers.

"Ma'am, please get the doctor or help me." Mingi softly said, the woman looking up at him. Mingi smiled down at you, his face pale. "My little wife here is worried and I'd hate to see her cry."

The woman blushed, and got up from her desk, quickly hurrying down the hall.

"Wife?" You questioned.

"She'll give us priority. Trust me." He softly grinned at you. "It's easier to get what we want this way."

"How's that fair to the other patients?"

"Life's not fair, sweetheart."

"You're lucky that I find you charming." You huffed.

"You find me charming? Well, aren't you sweet?"

"Shut up." You softly chuckled and rolled your eyes.

"Sir, ma'am, follow me." The nurse came back into the waiting room and ushered you down the hall and into an examination room.

After some time, Mingi was patched up, and per the doctor's orders, you had to stay a few nights in town. You were worried about the men that were following you but Mingi assured you that you would be safe.

"So, where are we staying?"

"With a friend of mine."

"Friend?"

"Yep. He'll take good care of us. He owes me a favor and it's his fault that I got shot in the first place."

"Is it Ol' Man Kim, you mentioned before?"

Mingi nodded. "Just don't call him old. He's only a year older than me but I like to mess with him. We grew up together and we've always had each other's backs."

"He sounds like a good friend."

"He's one of the best." Mingi grinned, the pain meds kicking in.

"Alright, well, we better get going then." You sighed and helped Mingi get out of bed. "The doctor said that the medicine will probably make you drowsy."

"I'll be fine. Let's go."

You helped Mingi back to your horse and got him situated on the saddle.

"Ready?"

"Yeah."

"Where to?"

"Kim's place. It's not far from here."

"Alright." You mounted your horse and started heading out of town.

You rode for a few hours, the sun beginning to set. You were about to suggest that you should camp somewhere for the night, but Mingi told you to continue straight ahead.

"This is a long stretch of nothing, are you sure we're heading the right way?"

"Yes. Keep going, the house should come into view soon."

"Okay." You said, keeping the horse moving.

It was growing darker, and the air was getting colder.

"Mingi, we really should stop and rest. We can continue tomorrow."

"Not yet. We're almost there. Keep going."

"Are you sure?"

"I'm sure."

"Alright."

You continued to ride, the sky turning darker.

"I'm getting worried, Mingi. It's getting too dark to ride safely."

"Don't worry. The house should be coming up soon."

"Okay."

The moon was high in the sky and the stars were shining brightly.

You were about to give up and insist on making camp when a large house appeared in the distance.

"See? Told you."

"Well, I'll be damned." You sighed.

"It's not much, but it's home."

You followed Mingi's directions and guided the horse to the front door.

"Who's there?" A man opened the door, pointing his rifle at the both of you.

"Calm down, you old fart. It's just me." Mingi waved his hand at the man.

"Mingi?" The man lowered his rifle and squinted his eyes at him. "What the hell happened to you, man?"

"Got shot trying to wrangle up your horses, that's what." Mingi joked before looking at you. "This little lady here helped me."

"I'm sorry. I didn't catch your name, Miss." The man smiled at you.

"Y/N."

"Nice to meet ya. Name's Hongjoong. You can call me Joong."

"Joong, this little lady needs our help. She's running from some bad people." Mingi leaned his head against your back, his voice sounding groggy.

"Bad people?" Hongjoong questioned, eyeing you suspiciously.

"Yes. My ex-husband is trying to kill me." You explained. "He's hired people to come after me. I've been on the run for months now."

"I'm sorry to hear that, Miss Y/N."

"Thank you."

"Mingi, why don't you take Miss Y/N and get settled in while I bring your horse to the stable."

"Okay."

Mingi helped you down from the horse, his arms wrapping around your waist as he slowly lowered you to the ground.

"Careful." You softly spoke, helping him down from the horse.

"Thank you, darling." Mingi smiled.

"You two, get inside and get warmed up. I'll take care of the horse." Hongjoong took the reins and led the horse to the stable.

You helped Mingi inside, the two of you entering the large ranch house. You placed Mingi on the couch before taking a look around the house. It was simple but cozy, and it smelled like vanilla and pine.

"Make yourself at home. Joong won't be long." Mingi leaned back against the cushions.

"Thank you." You smiled and went back over to him, sitting on the couch next to him.

You studied his features, his eyes closed and his face relaxed. He looked so peaceful, and you couldn't help but admire his beauty.

"What are you thinking about?" Mingi suddenly asked, opening his eyes and looking at you.

"Nothing. Just how handsome you are." You admitted.

"Well, thank you, darlin'." He smiled. "You're pretty yourself. Real pretty."

"Thank you."

"I'm glad you decided to stop and help me. I owe you my life."

"You're welcome." You smiled and leaned back against the cushions.

"So tell me your story," Mingi muttered. "Why is your husband out to get ya? Is it just for the money or is there something else?"

"It's a long story, Mingi." You sighed, a frown forming on your face.

"I got all night, sweetheart." He smiled, rubbing a hand up and down your arm. "C'mon. Indulge me, please."

You rolled your eyes. "You're lucky you're hurt. You're being very cheeky."

Mingi laughed, his dimpled cheek pressed against the cushions as he closed his eyes. "I am indeed. Tell me about ya. About yer marriage."

"What's to tell?" You shrugged, leaning back against the sofa and closing your eyes. "I met a man I thought would take care of me. He charmed me and my family but in reality, all he ever wanted was my money. Because he was on the verge of being broke." You began, re-living the memories. "At first, he treated me nice and it was wonderful, until it wasn't. It was his love language, lavish gifts, and trips. And then all of a sudden, what I thought was love turned into abuse and control. He wanted to spend my money on everything. When I said no, things went badly and his abuse became physical."

Mingi reached out a hand to you and put it atop yours, giving a little squeeze. "That bastard. I know his type. Those were the men I robbed and stole from. The greedy ones that hurt women." He let out a sigh and laid his head back. "I was an outlaw, for a long time. Joong and I were always looking out for each other. He was the brains and I was the brawn. But, a couple of years back we fell on some rough times and realized we weren't as invincible as we thought. When Joong's mama passed, she left him this property. We went legit and bought some cattle. Things are good now but we were still doing odd jobs. Helping friends and such." He smiled.

You studied him. "You two seem close. Friends can be good to have."

Mingi smiled at you, his dark brown eyes piercing into yours. "Joong and I are good at taking care of ourselves. Never needed anyone else until now."

"Until now?" Your eyebrows raised.

He shrugged a shoulder, an eyebrow lifting. "You never know what the future holds. Better to be prepared."

Mingi chuckled and stretched his limbs.

"I like the way you think." Your lips turned upward as you spoke to him.

The two of you sat in comfortable silence. Mingi's presence brought a feeling of ease to you. A moment later, Hongjoong came through the front door and removed his boots at the entrance.

"Hey, Joongie." Mingi greeted with a sleepy smile.

"How are ya holding up?"

"Better now." Mingi looked at you with a smile on his lips.

"Hey now, don't be all flirty up in this place-"

"Don't get jealous, Joong." Mingi cut him off.

"Me, jealous of you? Hell no." Hongjoong made his way over to you and sat down on a loveseat opposite the sofa. "So Miss Y/N, you got some crazies after you? What for? You some kind of heiress to a fortune? I can't see you doing any sort of wrong."

Your face reddened a bit as the men watched you. "I uh...well you could say that. My parents are wealthy, yes, and I was married to what I thought was a wealthy man...but he was on the verge of being broke. He only wanted my money so he could fund his extravagant life. Over time, he changed and became abusive. Finally, I couldn't handle it anymore so I divorced him. Stabbed him in the hand with a steak knife and ran away. Now he's sent thugs and goons after me. As long as he can get his hands on my money, he doesn't care if I'm dead or alive."

"Unbelievable." Mingi sighed and rubbed his temples.

"Well, I have to hand it to you, Y/N. Most women wouldn't have the strength or gall to stand up to an abuser or their spouse." Hongjoong admired you.

"I have to get out of the country. That was my plan all along." You sighed. "Get out of the country and try to live quietly, like normal. Not to offend, but men like you aren't exactly low-key."

Mingi chuckled. "Good point."

"And now you're saddled with the poor cowboy you've rescued and stuck at a ranch house on the outskirts of nowhere."

'What if they come here?" You bit your bottom lip.

Hongjoong shook his head. "You don't have to worry. Mingi and I are more than capable of handling a few thugs."

"Right." Mingi smiled at you. "Now, how about some food and bed? I'm starved, wounded, and exhausted."

"As am I."

"Okay, you two." Hongjoong stood. "I'll get dinner started, so rest up."

"She's in there!" You heard yelling. "We'll kill her if we have to! Bring her here, now!"

You were thrown on your back, a male body covering yours as you blinked your eyes awake. The tall cowboy covered your body as best he could with his own, a rifle aimed and firing out the window into the night.

"Stay low," Mingi growled in your ear, a primal protective tone. He aimed the rifle once more as shouts and screams pierced the air. More gunshots and the air turned electric. He spoke to you in a hushed tone. "Do you know how to handle a gun?"

"Yeah." You had been forced to learn back with your husband and his controlling nature. You would never use a weapon to harm, though.

Mingi looked to see that you nodded, reaching over he dug in a side drawer of the dresser next to his bed and handed you a pistol.

"Just in case. Try to stay low until it's clear. But if it's an all-out war, don't be afraid. Protect yourself. I don't mind dying for something worth it and you're something worth a lot in my eyes. I promise you, you'll come out alive and whole."

You turned and locked eyes with Mingi. Mingi held eye contact for a second before hopping out of bed.

"You ready?" Mingi moved to the window and looked out over the land surrounding the home, the firelight casting an orange glow.

You swallowed your anxiety and nodded to the cowboy.

"Okay." Mingi readied his weapon and hopped up onto the window, gun first, and fired. He took cover in the window frame, a thump sounded like a body landing, but you weren't sure. You held the gun ready, gripping tight to it tight as sweat lined your palms.

There was no more yelling. Only the crackling of the fire was audible. Mingi sighed heavily. His head dropped and then you watched his chest inflate and fall quickly as his nerves calmed down.

"You good, Darlin'?" He turned his eyes to meet yours.

"I'm...okay."

"Good." He nodded. "Remember to stay low. I'll draw their attention away, then you run like hell. Head to the stables and get on one of the horses. Head to town and find Yunho, the sheriff. Hongjoong and I will be right behind you. Okay?"

You nodded. "Okay."

"Good girl." He gave your knee a light squeeze. "Stay low and quiet."

Mingi disappeared. You took a few breaths, listening to the silence. You then dropped the window and began to make your way through the house and to the stables. You heard the sounds of horses stamping the ground and snorting. You looked over and saw Hongjoong climbing through the window.

"He okay?" Hongjoong whispered, moving his head out the window and seeing Mingi wasn't following you.

"Yes." You looked at him, sadness lining your eyes and fear welling in your voice.

"Hey, he's tough. The guy has been in much worse jams and walked out unscathed. This time isn't going to be any different. Trust me." Hongjoong had his revolver out, keeping his eyes focused on any movement outside. He hoped his words were true and the Mingi was alright.

A second later you heard Mingi's boots hit the floor. You were relieved. He moved quickly to the window.

"Four men dead."

"Is that all of them?" Hongjoong asked.

"Yes. They rode in fast. Just the four men. Heard one of them saying that there's more on the way."

"Damn, you're ex-husband wasn't playing around," Hongjoong grumbled.

Mingi approached you. "Darlin', let's go."

Hongjoong looked at you. "Go with Mingi. I'll hold down the fort. This is my goddamn house after all."

He clasped Mingi on the shoulder. "Just go and get her safe."

"Yeah." Mingi nodded.

Hongjoong loaded the pistol and cocked the hammer. "This ain't goodbye forever, Miss Y/N. I promise." He saluted the pair of you with two fingers, a genuine smile on his lips. "Be safe, you two."

"Take care, Hongjoong. See you on the other side, my friend." Mingi then took your hand and led you to a horse already packed with bags. He then picked you up by your waist, lifting you as though you were nothing more than a pillow. His strength never failed to impress you and excite you at the same time. You tried to situate your skirts appropriately but decided to tear a good portion of fabric from the hem for easier mobility.

You felt Mingi swing up behind you on the horse and place an arm around you. "Hang on. We're heading on to town to get Sheriff Yunho and let him know what's going on. Then we'll head on to the next town over." Mingi clicked his tongue and kicked the horse's flanks gently with his boots and the pair of you raced off the property. You were overwhelmed and felt as though things were starting to go wrong, again. Would the nightmare ever stop? Was there no safety in the world for you? And now, you were putting a new man and his best friend into the situation. Men who weren't bound to you in any way. 

Men who owed you nothing. Who have both saved you already, when they barely even knew you. How could you thank someone for something like that?

After stopping in town and telling the sheriff what had happened and disguising yourself in men’s clothing, you and Mingi were on the road to the next town over. With Mingi behind you and one hand on the reins, you gripped the saddle and tried to focus on breathing. Your heart wouldn't slow down, and Mingi could sense how anxious you were.

"Talk to me, darlin'." Mingi patted your arm and leaned forward a little to listen.

"Oh..." You hadn't noticed until now just how tense your shoulders were.

"It's gonna be fine." Mingi's voice was warm and comforting, the complete opposite of the situation at hand.

"How can you say that?" You looked over your shoulder and locked eyes with him, tears already lining your waterline.

Mingi's breath hitched a moment when he met your gaze. It was an intense moment the two of you sharing, his large eyes drawing you in, pupils dilating ever so slightly. You were breathless when his face lowered to yours, his mouth suddenly pressing to yours in a firm yet gentle kiss. You relaxed as the shock melted away and leaned into him, Mingi's arm sliding over your waist and pulling you against him.

Your hand lifted and rested upon his broad chest. You could feel his heart thrumming away against his ribcage. A soft growl vibrated his throat when his lips parted against yours, allowing the hot sweep of his tongue to dance with yours. You were enjoying the moment, but the stress still lingered and ate away at you.

You were caught completely off-guard by Mingi's actions. Especially considering how you had only met him just a day earlier.

"Mingi..." You gasped a little, a redness spreading over your cheeks as the cowboy pulled back and smiled.

"I promise everything will be just fine, Y/N," Mingi muttered. "We'll be in town soon and on the next train out of there. Then we'll be off far west. Free from that bastard and his goons."

"You're going through all this trouble, and danger, to protect someone you don't even really know." You wrapped your arms around yourself, feeling bad for endangering such a kind and wonderful man like the man behind you.

"Hey." Mingi reached over and brushed a stray tendril of hair from your face. "You're the real deal. I can tell, just by meeting you and hearing your story. Besides, this is me getting away from the life that Hongjoong and I led until just recently. This is redemption in a way, to help a pretty woman and save a good soul." Mingi moved one hand up your neck, fingers sliding along your skin making gooseflesh ripple along the trail.

"But the cost-"

"I think I know the price better than anyone. I was an outlaw, Y/N. Threw in my hand with the wrong people when I was a young idiot. Was lucky to be alive, and eventually met up with Hongoong. So I've seen all there was to see and can read people well. And, it's never too late to change and to choose the right people to surround yourself with. I've realized that I have to help others – the right way. And, besides, if I have to be in a sticky situation, I'm glad it's with someone like you."

You looked up to see Mingi staring down at you, his hands touching your waist.

Mingi grinned a bit as you seemed surprised. You were lost in his gaze for a moment, before coming back to your senses.

"Thanks."

Mingi stroked your cheek softly, admiring the details of your face for a moment, taking note of a certain spot he wouldn't mind having a chance to mark later on. Your face had a healthy dusting of sun-kissed skin that shined. Mingi stared in awe. He's known many a beautiful woman, but you were special. "Come on, darlin', we should keep moving. Should be in town soon enough."

You rode together the remainder of the way in silence. Your mind races over how the last day has unfolded, the danger the beautiful stranger was putting himself in, and the feelings stirring up in you for him. A few hours ago you didn't know him. Now you wanted to protect him and save him from danger. Was there something else driving you? Something hidden deep inside that only this kind-hearted stranger was capable of revealing?

Your mind drifted off and before you realized it, you had arrived in town. It was early morning and the streets were quiet, save a few people starting their day. After tying the horse to a post outside of the inn, Mingi gathered his rifle and your pack then helped you to the inn. After booking a room for both of you, Mingi gently grabbed you by your arm.

"Let's take it easy today, stock up on supplies, and then board the train tomorrow. Better get some rest while we can."

You nodded. Mingi rubbed your arms as your eyes fell. "Don't worry, I'm not gonna do anything to you." His expression softened as your eyes opened and focused back on him. "Not unless you want me to."

You smiled lightly and followed Mingi upstairs to the room you both had booked. Mingi kept the rifle close to him while entering the room, scanning the area, double-checking the closet and any potential hiding places, and making sure the window was locked, before relaxing his shoulders.

"I could use a bath right now." You said as you stood next to the bed.

"My thoughts exactly." Mingi smiled lightly.

"You'd like to bathe too, I presume?" You asked him, turning to the cowboy who was removing his gloves.

"Only if it's alright with you. No worries, I'm fine to wait for another day." He rested his gun and belongings at the foot of his bed. "Wouldn't be very polite of me to invite myself. And I don't want you thinking less of me." Mingi sat on the edge of his bed and started taking his boots off.

You wanted a bath but also a partner to be with. Even after all those kisses on the road, he was still respecting you, and wanting to make sure you were comfortable with him. What a rare and wonderful man you had stumbled upon.

"Well...I'd rather like someone to...bathe with me..." The sentence slipped out as a shy request, barely above a whisper, but Mingi heard and immediately looked over his shoulder with a sweet grin.

"Is that so?"

You nodded timidly and brought your bottom lip in between your teeth as his gaze made your nerves fire up. Mingi smiled, biting his lips as well in thought and lust.

"Well alright, Darlin."

You watched Mingi cross the room and follow you to the door leading to the tub in the corner of the room. "Shall we?" Mingi gestured, his palm opening outward and he held his other palm and wrist to you.

Your hands grabbed onto his and he gave a soft reassuring squeeze before releasing a hand, opening the bathroom door, and letting you inside. The tub was large and sturdy-looking and would easily fit two people. Your back faced Mingi while you started to get undressed, as he slowly shut the bathroom door.

You kept your eyes forward, hearing Mingi undo his belt buckle, and let his gun holster drop to the floor. His shirt followed the rustle and whooshing of cloth hinted at what was happening. He stood behind you, pausing and waiting.

"You still want my help, darlin'? I'm not going to push you into doing something that makes you feel uncomfortable. If you'd rather me keep the rest of my clothes on, just say the word."

You turned with wide eyes, biting your lips at his naked chest and broad, sturdy shoulders. Mingi held a knowing, charming grin on his lips as he teased a single button open on his trousers.

"Yes." You breathed, hypnotized by the delicious sight of a gorgeous and almost nude Mingi. "Mingi...I..."

"Shh..." Mingi closed the distance between you and met your mouth, claiming your lips once again, his hand gripping your side firmly. You placed a hand over the larger, muscular one that rested upon your side. It felt incredibly soft and so strong. Your free hand started to play along the band of the loosening trousers. Mingi grunted lowly, moving your hand to slip inside the waistband of his trousers.

Your fingers gripped gently, a needy moan escaping him as you got a taste of his size.

"Fuck..." He muttered, pulling back and kissing along your neck. He groaned, then tugged your shirt up over your head and you pulled your hand back from his waist. He tossed the shirt to the side, a hand rubbing along the delicate curve of your hip and tugging down the waistband of the trousers you were wearing.

"You sure about this, Darlin?" Mingi whispered against the shell of your ear.

"Very sure." You muttered back as you kissed his neck.

Mingi hissed as your mouth sucked softly, his skin vibrating beneath the skin of his throat. He continued to lower your trouser hem, the palm of his hand skating over the naked skin of your thigh, leaving behind a trail of tingles in its wake. 

"Fuck, Darlin..." he breathed, eyes latching onto the sight of your naked hips. Your hands skated down his toned belly and played over his trousers once again.

"Lower.." he asked, his lips pecking your shoulder before nuzzling your cheek.

You complied, fingers brushing and kneading over the growing heat. Your hand pulled his length out, fingers brushing the smooth and hardened skin. Mingi released an exhale, as your thumb grazed the swollen tip of his cock, massaging the fluid that leaked from his throbbing tip.

"Christ..." He buried his nose in your hair, grunting. "We're not even in the bath yet. Fuck.. Y/N.."

"Mmm?" You teased lightly, still stroking the solid flesh gently and slowly.

He chuckled, the hand at your hip brushing gently over the juncture of your thighs, then dipping down to stroke your intimate entrance. You cried out, pressing your body tight to Mingi's while his lips attacked your throat, sucking at your collarbone.

He turned your body around, your back pressing against his front, and slowly steered you towards the waiting tub. Mingi took a seat in the steaming hot water, stretched his legs out, and carefully lifted you into his lap. You moaned at the feeling of Mingi's cock prodding your backside as he brought your hips closer to his own. Mingi growled lowly and purred as your behind settled into his lap, grinding down a little and humming at the hard, thick rod nudging your tailbone.

Mingi laughed through a moan and placed a chaste kiss on the back of your head before you felt his tongue playing with your skin. "Ready?"

"Yes." You muttered back in a gasp. "Mmmmmm..."

"No worries, Darling. You'll enjoy what I do to you." Mingi purred.

"Promise?" Your back arched in pleasure, his thumb dipping low and swiping against the delicate bundle of nerves nestled amongst the folds of your sensitive clit.

"Mmhm..." his finger slid around your inner folds, coating the digit, and he plunged inside, his lips sucking softly on your neck.

"Oooh god..." Your back arched, mouth agape, and hips bucking into the sweet feeling of Mingi's skilled hands pleasuring you.

Mingi hooked his chin on your shoulder and grinned, loving to see the effects his ministrations were causing you.

"Look at you, Darlin'." He gave a harder rub of his finger against that little nub hidden at the peak of your heat. He bit back a moan feeling you clench against his thick finger that was currently prodding your sweet wet center. He shuddered and your hips squirmed. Mingi lifted and lowered his fingers until both sank inside the hot core and massaged. Your back was arched, and a whimpered sob of utter bliss was loud and clear.

"Mingi..." The name came out breathlessly and your hands reached back to grip his forearms, the pads of your fingers gripping tightly as you turned and your eyes locked with Mingi's. Mingi pressed closer to you, lips trailing back up to the side of your neck, and claimed another hungry kiss. Your moans vibrated, Mingi growled in pleasure as he removed his fingers and snaked around you, turning you so that your legs ended up straddling his waist. Mingi sat back, the ends of his hair soaked, strands curling against the nape of his neck and temples as he watched you lower yourself on his cock.

"Just like that, beautiful. God, you feel fantastic." He muttered, reaching up to brush his lips back over yours. "How do you feel, darlin'? My size okay? Any pain? Need me to go softer or harder?"

You bit your lip, marveling at the sweetness the cowboy was treating you. Your insides squeezed, your muscles contracting and pulsating around him. A cuss of pleasure came from him as he slid up a little more, hands taking your waist, guiding you to lean back against his wet chest. The suds and bubbles moved away, exposing more of the heated contact to the cooler air.

Your nails scraped gently up Mingi's thighs and you sank further, feeling a slight resistance, but still feeling wonderful.

"Oh god, Mingi."

"I know, darlin'..." One hand rested on your hips under the water, the other cupping your breast and kneading, enjoying the warm mound beneath his palm. "Tell me, darlin'. How does this compare to your ex-husband? Be honest..." He breathed, burying his face into the back of your neck, kissing the hot skin.

"He never filled me like this...so good...so full...God..."

He ground his teeth a little, groaning through his teeth as he nipped your earlobe, keeping his eyes trained on your back and sides. You moaned, not caring how much noise you were making. Mingi leaned into you and stole another hungry kiss before whispering, "No worries, you can scream as loud as you like with me, darlin’. I'll take you harder and fill you even more."

"Yes, please. Fuck, Mingi...." Your breathless and heady voice caused Mingi's self-control to break. He thrust a little harder and gripped you tightly.

Mingi snaked an arm around the front of you, grabbing your wrist and pushing his weight to the back of you. With each thrust the water began to slosh, threatening to spill from the edges of the tub and onto the wooden floor. "Mingi-" 

The thrusts turned rough, yet there wasn't any pain. You reached out, searching and grabbing, anything, needing something to hold onto. Seeing what you needed, he repositioned you so that your breasts were now pressed against his chest. You wrapped your arms around his neck, rocking against him. You didn't care if the water had gotten everywhere by now. Your pussy throbbed and clutched. He felt so big and you were impossibly full with him, the way his thickness was lodged inside and caressed every inch of your walls.

"Is this all you need, darlin'?" He asked. His words came out short and clipped as he panted.

Your response was only a loud mewl.

His hands pressed tight against your back, keeping you close, and the arm hooked beneath your bottom increased its grip.

You bounced upon his lap, your movements jagged, unable to do anything more. All you could do was cling to Mingi.

"There, Darlin...such a good girl for me..." He mumbled through a moan. His voice was gruff and it made your skin prickle.

"More..." you moaned back.

"Yeah? I'mma need to move this elsewhere to give you more, Darlin'." Mingi spoke against your shoulder, peppering a kiss to soothe you. His cock felt so good inside you. "Don't worry, Darlin'. I'm not done with you, yet. We still have the bedroom, and I need to have you ride me." Mingi purred while his mouth searched your body.

A throaty chuckle erupted from Mingi as he heard your cries for him.

You yelped and whined, surprised as his arms maneuvered you, and lifted you right out of the tub. The world blurred around you, Mingi's wet flesh clinging to your own. A second later, you felt yourself land upon the cool sheets of the mattress. The fluffy bedding was a welcome feeling as Mingi's wet frame pressed to you, your lips reconnecting once more.

"We didn't wash up..." You let out a small moan of contentment against the warmth of Mingi's neck, the skin dewy and soft.

"Guess not, but I certainly enjoyed a bath with you nonetheless, Darlin’." Mingi purred against your shoulder, flipping to lay on his back and bring you on top of him. He spread your legs further and gripped your hips in both his palms as you slid down on him. "Damn...Y/N..."

"You said you wanted me to ride you, didn't you?" You smirked, settling back on him.

"Oh...that was one of the best ideas I've ever had...aight, show me what ya got..." He placed one hand on your waist while the other was laid above his head, his grin impossibly wide and goofy as his eyes met yours. "By all means, show me, darlin'."

Fuck, bathtub sex was good but being atop such a fine specimen like Mingi...this was even better...and a whole other level of sensual.

"Mingi...my god..." Your breath caught, eyes slamming shut and rolling into your skull as you sunk deeper and began riding him with more passion.

He cursed under his breath. "Fuck, your pussy is fucking perfect." He smiled, watching the view from under. Mingi was lying there, watching you move above him and he groaned.

"So hot...the way you are riding me...damn." He was straining with how good you were feeling. Your pussy squeezed around Mingi's thick cock, and your hand slid along his broad chest and down his sculpted torso. You trailed along his muscles, and Mingi watched you explore his body while you bounced atop his erection. He loved this.

"Look at you, Y/N.." Mingi smiled.

"So big.." you were stretched in a way you had never been before. "So full..." You whined, completely lost in him.

His hands wrapped tighter around your hips as he helped bounce you up and down his cock.

You continued riding the cowboy for a few more minutes. Mingi brought a hand up, running his thumb along the wet folds of your pussy and you whimpered, gasping when he started circling your clit. "Mingi.." his name came out louder, turning to a wail as you were right on the verge.

"Do it, cum all over me, let me feel it, I'm getting close. So close, darlin’." Mingi barked back, a growl emerging and his hands gripped hard as he pounded up and into you.

"Ooooh, yes!"

He sat up quickly, kissing you again as he thrust deeply until he could go no more, releasing. He jerked, pumping every last bit into you before easing down onto his back with an exhausted and spent laugh.

You collapsed over him and snuggled in closely.

"Wow."

"Yeah, wow." Mingi agreed and he looked down at you and your naked form, which was intertwined with his. You snuggled in closer and were amazed at his energy. "Better than with your ex-husband?"

You let out a laugh and you pulled his hands and wrapped them around your waist. Your hands ran across his skin and his face had an easy smile, those chocolate eyes softening. You pushed yourself closer to him, which he welcomed. "Most definitely."

"How would you feel if I stayed with you to protect you and ensure you arrived wherever you wanted to go? I promise to make sure you aren't in any trouble. That's if you would like the company."

A smile spread over your lips, and you nodded your approval. You'd love nothing more than the company of a handsome man with a good heart such as Mingi. He smiled in return placed a small kiss on the tip of your nose and held you tighter, drawing the covers of your bed over the both of you. You smiled a little as you looked at him. The night air filled with a beautiful silence. It was comfortable. Neither of you spoke, but eventually, Mingi whispered into the dark:

"Y'know what Darlin'? I reckon we can manage life together just fine."

You giggled and nodded. "I have a feeling you're right about that."

[pricetagged]

sacrum

It's not denial, and it's not grief. How can it be when you're not dead? Or: Simon visits your tomb. It wouldn't be the first time he got grave dirt under his fingernails.

2.7k words. GN reader.

Warnings: death; grief; unhealthy coping methods; denial; mild gore and horror; references to ghost's past (being buried alive); implied character death; unhealthy thoughts; grave digging (simon literally tries to dig you up).; unedited.

Look after yourselves please. Read the tags and skip if necessary 💖

_____________

He is overwhelmed with the smell of rot.

That sickly, sweet scent of decay. Vegetation and plant matter transmuting into sticky, pulpy mulch, life rendered into dirt. It's the white lilies that bother him specifically. They're resting there, creamy white petals blooming open and speckled with dustings of heady, brown pollen. It's like looking at his own pale, wan face dusted with pockmarks and freckles, a grotesque mirror image. Beauty and rage. He looks at them and they look back, open and pretty and sweet where he is not.

And they reek. In this place of dirt, in this place of twigs and soil and peaty, earthy humus how did they spray their perfume? An altogether too syrupy, cloying bouquet that stagnates around you, settles at his feat like dense, soupy fog.

He knew that you hated them - funeral flowers, you called them- and he scoffs, toeing at one of the drooping, lurid white petals until it wilts underfoot. Lachrymose, it seems to weep great fat droplets of dew or oil or whatever it is that cries out wet with a wave of pungent redolence. You hated them, and it's so fucking stupid that they're here now because you aren't dead.

He'd nearly bitten Johnny's head off when he asked about your favourite flowers, the sergeant's voice pitched low and thick like he'd half-swallowed the words before they'd even come out. 'Dinnae want to get her something she wouldnae like, but my ma always said that carnations were fittin' for-' the rest of the words seemed to whither, choked like weeds under the weight of his glare. He wasn't quite sure what he said next, only remembering the stricken, glassy look in Soaps eyes and then the weight of his Captain's hand on his shoulder hauling him out for some air. He'd shrugged that off, too. Roughly. Circled around to face him like a dog in a pit. His teeth ached, itched to bite, clamp down and shake and tear, but even mad dogs know not to bite the hand that feeds them. Instead, he'd bristled, hackles raised high as he shoulder-checked Gaz on his way back inside.

Heard them whisper, too, as he passed, hushed and soft like they were all too aware of his pricked ears and quivering, hungry jaw. Mandated compassionate leave, numbers for bereavement counsellors. Denial. Grief. It's a load of shit.

Holding back the words feels like throwing grit on the fire; it's a battle, suppressing the heat and the rage but feeling it pop and spark and simmer beneath the surface. It's not denial and it's not grief. How can it be when you're not dead? He'd crumpled the order of service program, all crisp white parchment and serif-fonted verses. He'd held it so tightly in his shaking hand that it tore and cracked, card-type rendered to clay under his heavy fingerprints. He held it like that, thought about ripping or tossing it but your face looked back at him from the front page.

Smiling. Beautiful. Flat.

True, it wasn't you, but how could he ever damage something made in your image?

It was that pamphlet that led him here, now. He hadn't attended the service, hadn't wanted anything to do with that absolute farce. Had ignored the phone calls, the knocks on the door. You were not dead, and he was not alive. True to his callsign, he existed in some hazy, temporal space. Sustained on rollie cigarettes and tepid tea. It gave his hands something to do, thumbing at filters and glossy, thin paper in lieu of something worse. In lieu of his darker vices. In lieu of disappearing altogether into The Ghost. Faceless form. Nameless, too. But even smoke and shadows move, and he found himself turned Orpheus, drifting past the souls and shades of the departed until-

Until he's face-to-face with those lilies and that little patch of moss on the corner of your grave. Just a little speck of green against black marble. Typical of you, to bring life into desolate spaces. For you to furnish something soft and verdant where others see only hard, cold, dark. You'd burrowed deep into his driftwood body, a little seed that cared not for his splinters and hollowness. He'd been shaped, fractured, by salt and pressure. Twisted into some gnarled, dead branch but maybe that was the beauty of it. Maybe that was a portent, a sign, that he could be useful to you. That you could climb on, cling on and let him pull you up. That you were nestled inside, marrow deep in the mulchy, spongey hollows of his bones. Not hard enough or weathered enough by yourself. No sun-bleached, ossein outer shell of your own.

No matter.

The soil was strangely warm, piled high, and packed tight above where you lay. He dug his hands in, scarred, meaty paws chasing the warmth that surely was coming from you. It was wrong, actually, to say that it was strange. Anywhere that housed you would be warm. He was. His lungs were burning, squeezing at him, oxygen burning like bourbon as it whistled down his throat and smouldered in his belly. His face was cold, though, mouth and nose numb and something wet leaking and pooling down at his chin where he's tugged down his mask. Confusion titled his head, eyes closed towards the sky, neck arched in the closest he'd come to prayer in years. It wasn't raining, but something was dripping down his face.

He'd knelt like this before, put loved ones into the earth and stood stoic under the pitiful gazes and awkward, pinched smiles of acquaintances and strangers. Unbidden, the words from Tommy's - god, Tommy, Joseph, Beth - funeral echoed through his mind. The body that is sown is perishable, it is raised imperishable.

He'd done it.

Walked in shadow steps across the Mexican border leaking blood and viscera, yes, but undead. It is raised in glory, it is sown in weakness. He'd clawed his way out once. Dragged his weak, struggling body to the surface to draw gasping, ash-tainted breaths and haunt the earth again. He'd help you do the same. You need him to.

Soft thing. You needed him to help you claw at the rich, grave dirt above your body, great scooping handfuls until his hands were stained with it. It was keeping you down there all compressed and boxed in, and he just knows you'd hate it. Hate being from him, hate being alone and in the dark listening only to the writhing of worms and the footfalls from above. You'd always cry a little when he was deployed, resigned and beautiful as you sniffled your farewells. Not goodbyes, superstition or hope preventing you from ever uttering words so final. So severe.

It's not goodbye if I'll see you later!

He swatted hard at his ear, his temples, fingers puppeted by paroxysm as the rich, peaty marl below him turned to dust and loam. Just for a second. Just for a whisper, the air he was breathing was thin and acrid and tasted like sand. He squeezed his eyes shut, screwed so tight that phosphenes danced behind the lids. One breath. Another. He could feel the soil caking and cracking on his skin, smell the heady, peaty turf and he was back.

The last enemy that will be destroyed is death. There was no Vernon here. No Manuel Roba, no Zaragoza Cartel. Just you, the dirt, and the foolish reaper that thought it could keep you from him.

After all those years grave dirt lingered beneath his fingers. It slotted in, filled in the groves of his knuckles and nailbeds like the tide returning to rockpools and crags along the shore. His body was made for this, forged by this, hewn from rock and dirt and left to shamble in the shape of a man. It's why he was numb to it, why stones crumbled to pumice dust as he clawed ever deeper. It was easy to ignore the jagged little pits of sediment that dug under his nails, stabbing until he dripped red from the quick. Watering your grave, he gave an offering of blood, sweat, and tears. You must have accepted this tribute, been satisfied in this champion for your soul because he felt something tugging at his chest. Deep, behind muscle and fat and gristle his heart sped up. Pounding so hard it nearly hit his ribs. He could feel it, see it when he closed his eyes. His red string connected to yours, all twisted and threadbare and fraying where it bored down into the earth, but still there. Still vibrant and raw and red.

And so close.

It was different digging down. When he'd first been reborn, he'd had company. There was him, and a lump of festering meat. A sack of bones moldering beside him in the casket. Dead and useless. Until it wasn't. Until he'd nearly passed out twice, arm shaking and stomach seizing as he raised his broken fingers to what used to be its face. There was no air, just lungs heavy with copper and carbon. He'd been hysterically lucid, thankful that that sick fucks had at least broken his nose before they tossed him in the pit. Probably severed his olfactory nerves but it was a blessing, really, not to smell the putrid, festering thing that was oozing over his fingers as he scratched and gouged until he hit bone. He had enough of his senses to kick at the boards above him, contorting around the hollow spots in the hope that the pressure of the dirt wouldn't do him in. Not killed by fucking soil, not when the bastards who wanted him dead had already tried and failed with greater means.

Digging up was like drowning. Like being dragged away by a current, water pressing and squeezing at your head until your ears popped and your eyes bulged.

It was fighting the urge to breathe, body struggling and kicking so hard against a nature that didn't care. Cruelty from indifference. Lactic acid burning and cramping through muscles that you couldn’t stop moving. Stop moving and you're dead for real. Digging up was rage and hope, something fiery and heavy pulsing under the skin. He remembered some poem he had to memorise back at the state comprehensive. Hope is the thing with feathers. He was shit at English, never cared for it. But he remembered that because it was so bloody trite. He'd told the teacher, first time he'd ever volunteered an answer in her class, and she screwed her nose up at him. Sent him out for cheek. Only it wasn’t cheek. Hope was the worm wriggling around in his guts. The stupid parasite that fed off his fear and made him wonder if he could be purged of it. Those same maggots writhed in his guts, wriggling and squirming as he kicked and pulled up. And up. And up.

Digging down, though. Digging down was harder. He wasn't getting dragged down by the current; no, he was sloshing great bucketfuls of water behind him, wondering why the ocean wasn't yet drained. It was frustrating, endless. Some kind of wank Greek tragedy where he'd been cursed to repeat the same task, over and over again. To have what he wanted, just out of reach, the finishing line set and reset at someone else's whim. Tantalus, Orpheus, Prometheus. He knew what they'd done to offend the Gods, but what about him? What bargain had Shepard and Price struck to have him back? To have him stalk and hunt under their flags, their causes. Would you disappear forever, trapped in the caves of the underworld if he tried to look at you one last time?

His body wasn’t his anymore, hadn't been for a while. Not since Mexico, and maybe even before that. He was more ghoul than man then. Some kind of shambling hellhound they set loose and tasked to kill. But his body wasn't theirs either, not anymore. He'd folded you inside himself so carefully. Made a home for his heart and yours in the cradle of his ribs until he wasn't sure where yours began and his ended. He gave his body in service to you. His heart, his mind, the gristle of his ugly mug - all those chunks of meat were yours. What use was he, then, if he couldn't protect you?

Six-foot-something and 200lbs of weapon rendered flesh, and you're damned bloody right he'd use it to reach you.

Except, something was broken. Salt stung at his eyes; whether perspiration or tears he wasn't entirely sure. Because there were tears, he could admit that now. He could admit that to the magpies watching him from the cracked, weather-worn tombstones littered around. He could admit that in the thick silence - heh, quiet as the grave - settling eerily as dusk fell like a blanket.

'Fuck.'

Regret punched him in the liver, bent and stooped him under his face was buried in the upturned earth below his hands. The first word he'd said to you since his last mission and it was 'fuck'. He didn't even say it properly, just gasped it out as he crumpled in on himself like wet tissue. Voice all damp and cracking like even that one word didn't want to come out. Soul of a poet, him.

You knew he wasn't a man of many words, though. You'd forgive him.

He was tired now. Exertion drank from him, stripped him down to his crypt-cold bones. He didn't think ghosts got tired, but here he was shaking and kneeling in the hollow of your grave like a starving mutt. Pawing and pawing at you until his nails cracked and his fingers bled. It was sapping out of him, now, candle in his chest flickering lower as he got closer and closer to where you were waiting for him. His face was wet, the wind stinging at bitter trails that swelled over his pallid cheeks. Blinking sluggishly, he licked at his cracked lips. Apprehension lingered there, danced along the seam for a second.

Whatever he finds down there, whatever state you are in he will join. You will rise together or rot together, there is no other way this can go.

His breaths catch in his ribs, jumping too quickly past his diaphragm but not quite strong enough to breach. Instead, they flutter downwards. Or something does, something sets his fingers to shake as they brush against polished wood slick with condensation. It's so cold, you must be so fucking cold in there. It sounds hollow, too, knock reverberating like a church bell from where his clumsy, swollen knuckles bump across the lid.

A person cannot enter the realm of the dead more than once. Not while they're alive. So this is it.

And he's so tired, thoughts turning sluggish and foggy as he folds his body over yours. There's just that panel of wood separating you now. The closest you've been to each other in weeks. Christ, he's given so much of himself already. So much, from such a young age. He's not sure he could even go on without giving, without a mission. But he swore to you, swore just before he left that this was the last one. Told you that he'd speak to Price, ask for family leave or an active service break or something so that you and he -

so that -

so-

Fuck, he couldn't quite catch the thought before it slipped away. Couldn't quite get his eyes to open, either. Just feathery lashes fluttering against his cheekbones until he gave in. Until he let them drift shut.

Maybe it wouldn't be so bad to fall asleep here. Just you and him, together. He could picture it; your head must be somewhere just below his. You'd probably tucked a hand under your cheek, angled slightly to the right so that he could reach out and touch you from his left. His hand slid across the slick, dirt speckled board, tapping out the syllables of your name with his fingertips. Curled around each other, forever, in the cold, dark earth.

________________

Sorry, I hurt our boy 😢 Not really confident in doing Simon's PoV - I always write from reader's perspective but, uhh, not really possible here. Just had to get the idea out bc it's been rolling around in here, gathering dust. Maybe it's been done before? Idk.

Some biblical, wuthering heights, and Greek myth references. And no shade to emily dickinson; that's ghost's opinion, not mine!

Knight ghost part ii will be out this week (finally lol, yay). Then some of the other stuff I've banged on about.

[legalmente-loca]

Always His Eyes

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Female Reader

Summary: You always saw his eyes as something glorious. But something is missing now that he is gone.

Word Count: 1,368

Tags/Warnings: angst, violence, blood, death.

Your ears were ringing. That was the first thing you felt.

What had happened? Am I dead? Is this heaven?

Lilith had tried to kill you along with Sam, you even saw a glowing light and you closed your eyes because it hurt the sight.

But you didn't feel... Dead.

You opened your eyes and the first thing you saw was Dean's feet a few feet away. You were lying on your side, your head hurt, but little by little you were more aware. You shook your head and felt a hand on your shoulder, shaking you slightly.

“Hey, are you okay?” You heard Sam's voice next to you.

But your vision was focused on Dean, his body still. You propped yourself up on one elbow and simply watched him. What happened playing over and over in your mind, like a recording you don't want to let go.

"Dean?" You barely heard your own voice, so low and strange that you thought you had thought of that name.

Sam heard it anyway, and made his attention move to his brother's body. He slowly got up and walked towards him. Meanwhile, you continued to stare at his body, as if you were hoping (no, wishing... Yes, definitely wishing) that he would move.

But that was impossible after the attack he had suffered by the hellhounds.

You stood up slowly, being able to see more of his body, but decided to keep your distance. You really didn't want to admit it, admit that he... That he...

He...

“Sam?” You whispered his name when you saw him kneel next to him. “Sam, tell me he’s okay.” You heard him cry softly, saying Dean's name.

Only at that moment did you decide to approach the opposite side where Sam was, falling to your knees while you saw how his brother lay limp in his arms. Dean's chest was torn, his own blood splattered across his face. A truly horrible scene to watch, a scene that made you squint your eyes and focus solely on his.

"Dean…” You shook your head, feeling a tear run down your cheek as you slowly extended a hand towards him. “No…” You even stopped breathing normally.

You entered the office without bothering to knock on the door. Likewise, you could barely carry the coffees in both hands. What did it matter if you didn't announce yourself before? But as soon as you looked up, you noticed that your boss wasn´t alone, but in the company of two young men about your age.

“Oh, excuse me, I'll be back another time.”

But your boss's voice made you stop your movements.

“She´s my assistant.” He said, standing up and calling your name. “Dear, they're from the FBI, they're coming for the disappearances.”

Both guys stood up from their seats and the first thing you noticed was the height of both of them, one taller than the other, but that din´t detract from the other. You looked between the two of them with a slight smile. They were both attractive, you had to admit, dressed in their suits and with almost angelic faces.

"Hi." The taller of the two said, looking at you with a friendly smile on his face.

You waved back and your gaze moved to the man next to him, his green eyes probably being the first thing that caught your attention. But the freckles near them made you tilt your head in attention.

"Hi." He stretched out his hand to shake yours, but you hesitated, diverting your attention to the cardboard in your hands that was keeping the coffee cups afloat. He seemed to notice that your hands were full. “Lemme help you with that.” He said before pulling the cardboard off of you, your fingers brushing together, and you'd be lying if you said you didn't feel electricity run through your body.

He passed the coffees to his partner (who almost dropped them due to the unexpected movement) without even taking his eyes off you. He extended his hand to you again and you smiled at the charm that seemed to emanate naturally from him.

"Hi." You shook his hand.

"Hi." He repeated softer this time.

You think you got lost in his eyes...

“Please don't…” You sobbed over his corpse, leaning over him slightly as you brushed his cheek with your hand, afraid to feel the skin of an uninhabited body.

“So, vampires, werewolves, Chupacabras... do all of that exist?” You walked next to him, your hands inside your jacket while the lights of the ambulance were meters away from both of you.

You had a wound on your cheek that professionals had already taken care of, although of course you had to lie to them about how you got it. Surely they would have sent you to a special hospital if you told them that you got it when a Wendigo kidnapped you along with a hunter of supernatural creatures who wears jeans to the forest.

“Pretty much yes.”

“Even Bigfoot?”

“Well, we haven't crossed paths with him yet, but I'm ready.” He responded with amusement, stopping walking to turn to look at you.

You laughed and your gaze met his, stopping walking too. Hell, his eyes could be brighter under the moonlight. Incredible, but possible.

“Okay, smart boy, for most of us college was enough,” you shrugged, your shoulder aching slightly at the movement and you wondered when your body would feel like new again, “well, for those who went and didn't have than being a secretary.”

“It's more something you are born with than something you can decide.”

You nodded your head slowly and watched him. It must have been a lonely lifestyle and you even wondered if at any point in his life he thought about doing something other than a hunter who put his life in danger on every hunt, but you didn't dare ask him, believing it to be invasive. Instead, you sighed and swayed on the spot, adopting a more timid attitude as you briefly lowered your gaze to your feet before returning it to his eyes.

“I don't know how I could thank you.” A flirtatious smile made its way onto his face and you looked at him in disbelief, but you couldn't hide your own smile. “And you had to ruin the moment.”

"Yeah!"

You shook your head in amusement and bit your bottom lip. You didn't know where your shyness had come from since Dean had actually been flirting with you at all times since you met him, sometimes being more subtle than others.

He tilted his head and brought a hand to your lips, pulling your lip out from between your teeth with his thumb. Your entire attention was on him. Suddenly, the lights of the ambulance no longer blinded one side of your face and, instead, made his shine.

And those eyes... Always his eyes...

He brushed away a strand of hair covering your eye and stroked his thumb over the bandage the paramedics had placed over your wound, so gently it felt like a feather brushing your face.

And at no time did you dare to look away from his eyes.

You ran your fingers through his hair as you whispered his name once more, your hands shaking and your chest hurting like it had never hurt before. Your tears fell on him and you just wished it was like in the movies, and that your pain would bring him back. This wasn't supposed to happen, you were supposed to find a solution and Dean would be saved. You had tried everything in one year. So much effort to prevent what you now knew was inevitable.

You looked into his eyes and had to blink because tears blurred your vision. Those eyes no longer shone. They no longer shone with the moonlight that was currently coming in through the window. They were empty, not even looking at anything in particular. They were simply two spheres without a soul to guide them. And they seemed like the most horrible thing you had ever seen in your life.

You understood that his eyes were only beautiful because they had his life inside them.

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[skyloftian-nutcase]

If you're okay with it, maybe HW Link and Fierce having a quiet moment? They're an underrated pair.

Link was supposed to be alone for this mission.

It had been a straightforward one, at least. He was investigating enemy movements and gathering intel. It was pointless to drag the other two younger heroes along, and he’d wanted them to rest. Instead, someone had tagged along, and when Link argued the boy couldn’t keep up because he was younger and needed sleep, the little forest sprite had taken it as a challenge.

He really should have known better than to escalate the matter, honestly. There was a reason he usually let Proxi do the talking. He supposed he’d have to learn to be better with his words.

In either case, here he sat amidst rocks near a cliffside, in the chilly dark, with a war god.

Well. A supposed war god. The Fierce Deity had proven he was far more of a Mother Hen than anything else.

But tonight the pair was quiet. They were both on the hunt, watching for enemy movements. It wasn’t until the moon was starting to make its descent towards the horizon that the deity finally spoke.

”You should get some rest.” The deity’s voice, even when spoken so quietly, held such power that it seemed to electrify the air. Nevertheless, his eyes, though blanket and otherworldly, were tranquil, lulling Link in as he looked at him.

The hero shook his head. “We still haven’t caught sight of them. They should be coming through here. I’m not going to sleep on the job.”

“I commend your resolve, little soldier,” Fierce noted. “But I can stay awake longer than you.”

“Don’t you need your sleep too?” Link questioned before narrowing his eyes. “And your host definitely does.”

“Shifts, then,” Fierce conceded. “I will not allow you to stay up all night.”

Link bristled a little, but he also knew that arguing was pointless. He’d learned that with the mythical being by now. Sighing heavily, he rolled his eyes, defeated. “Fine.”

As Link slowly curled in on himself to try and stay warm on the dirt and gravel, he noticed Fierce still watching him. He tried to ignore him a moment before finally asking, “What’s wrong?”

“You look different than when I last saw you,” Fierce noted, a strange intonation in his words. It wasn’t just an observation, there was some kind of emotion behind it.

Link blinked, confused.

“War changes everyone,” Fierce muttered, looking out at the road below. “I forgot how much it hurts youth. Get some rest, little soldier. I’ll keep you safe.”

The lamentation hit Link like a splash of water, and he felt both guilty and touched. He wondered, for a moment, how much the war had changed him. “Does it do the same to you?”

Fierce was motionless for a moment before smiling a little. “My purpose is to protect.”

“As is mine,” Link affirmed determinedly.

The deity chuckled now, ruffling LInk’s hair, catching the hero off guard. “So it is, Hero.” There was a fondness in his face now, between the small smile and the way his painted eyebrows relaxed, the creases of his forehead disappearing. “Get some sleep, Link.”

Link’s chest was warm as he shuffled closer to the deity, settling in to rest under his protective care, hair still frazzled from being ruffled. He didn’t bother fixing it, smiling instead.

[cythaeria]

People who don't view Jotaro as misogynistic are so annoying. I wanted to give these people the benefit of the doubt because "Oh what if they're just not educated enough on misogyny and how versatile it is." But no! We should be able to recognize misogyny in this day and age!!

You people can't recognize misogyny if it isn't in your face "Women should die" kind of bullshit and it's tiring!!

It's tiring to see people coddle Jotaro and treat people who think of him as misogynistic as unreasonable and media illiterate as if it doesn't 100% make sense why they'd think that.

Before I continue this sporadic ramble I need to say that I love Jotaro so damn much, he's my second favorite character in the entirety of Jojo! But I can accept that he has his faults and that's completely okay in my eyes, sometimes characters have unlikeable traits and are assholes and we just have to accept that. Your favorite character is fucked, accept it, and keep on going with your day.

This is none of that "gen z is trying to cancel eminem?" Shit. Accept him for who he is!!! Let him live his misogynistic truth!!!!

Jotaro stans truly do not wanna believe he's ever done anything wrong and I love him the most when he's doing wrongs! I loved you when you left your family and became a deadbeat just to protect them, I saw you and I loved you. Separate thing but. Whatever. Anyways.

"How can people call Jotaro a misogynist if the people he's done the most for are his mother, wife, and daughter?"

Does the misogyny suddenly disappear from men simply because they care for their family members who are women?? The men in my family would do anything to keep me safe but in the same breath, they'll apply stereotypes to me and make it known that I am not on the level of men just because I'm a woman. I'm sure this is the case for most people. Being a misogynist and loving the women in your life are things that coexist! It's their views on and behavior towards women overall that are fucked.

"People forget that he was just 17 when introduced and going through an edgy phase."

So suddenly that absolves him of the misogyny?? Just because he's a 17 year old boy?? And this is stated as if part 3 is the ONLY time he's misogynistic when in part 4 he's assuming Kira is unmarried because if he had a wife he wouldn't need to go to a tailor shop?? What the fuck does that mean Jotaro.

Like it's so clear to me that in his head the right way for women to exist is if they're the traditional housewife type that is submissive, modest, quiet, gentle, etc etc. And this is stated in his character bio! "Favorite type of women: traditional Japanese (hates women who don't shut up)" We can make so many educated guesses off of that And the way he treats women! But maybe I'm just looking at it from a limited point of view, maybe traditional means something different in Japan. Idk

"He's autistic and hates loud people."

He's autistic and his special interest is calling women bitches! And I'd argue that even when no noisy commotion is happening, he's still just...an asshole? Like when they were in that Café(?) After they got him out of jail and Holly is clinging to him, expressing her relief, he just calls her an annoying bitch?? And it seems like he isn't uncomfortable, he could've shoved her off if he was(as he does) so.....?

"He's gay."

Jojo fans will bring out 200 headcanons before just admitting that their favorite character is a misogynist. Little edit: :0!!! Someone in tags mentioned that gay men can be misogynistic and yes, that part! Just because you hc him as only liking men that means it's...suddenly ok for him to be an asshole towards women? I didn't go too much into detail originally bc I felt like I was repeating myself too much but yessss!

"He's mean to everyone."

So true but especially to women in particular. And like I said, misogyny comes in so many different forms and not just being "mean to girls". He thinks women are inherently weak and because of that, they should be protected.

"She's no mere woman." Jotaro stumbles upon a woman stronger than him and he just can't fucking. Comprehend it.

IT'S OKAY. It's okay to like a character who is misogynistic, I just think it's weird to act like "My Jotaro would never!! He's just a baby boy!!🥺🥺"

Personally, I like it? I really like the idea of building off of that. Jotaro later on in life becoming comfortable with femininity and possibly exploring his gender identity more and transfeming all over the place. A little Dave Strider moment.

There are some opinions that I disagree with though. I saw someone bring up the fact that he abandoned his wife and Jolyne as a counterpoint to him not being misogynistic and I just feel like that's clearly...something completely separate from him being a misogynist.

Also I'd add when he discovered Anne was a girl in here if I wasn't so on the fence about it buuuuuut thinking thoughts.

I dunno, it just upsets me little bit. Learn about the many ways the world oppresses women, be in the known, and all that before you go to war for Thee Jotaro Kujo.

Don't know if this is any good, it's very all over the place and badly written but I just needed to get it out and stuff. Maybe I'm in the wrong and I don't know Jojo like That. Anyways, if you have any thoughts and such, mayhaps reply, I'd like to read them!