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1-800-gaygentsofshield · 4 years ago

Text

you + me = ? | n.r.

summary: after the war you and Natasha settle down, deciding to start a family in your cozy little home. The problem is though, how many times can hope be ignited before it fully burns out?

warnings: (trying to get pregnant) reader, canon/sterile Nat, swearing, Nat and you cry, post-endgame, sprinkle of angst with a very fluffy ending

word count: 4,016

im having baby fever rn im so sorry

-flashback, pre-endgame-

"I wanna have a family." Your voice is barely above a whisper as you both look up at the night sky, laying in the garden atop the Avengers compound. "What?" Nat asks softly, breaking out of her trance as she looks at you. You're laying on her chest and her arm is wrapped your back, Nat's other arm folded up behind her head.

"I wanna have a family, with you." You repeat yourself, making eye contact with your girlfriend as her brows furrow. "Y/n.." Nat's voice is hesitant and panic floods your chest, your eyes widening as you move to sit up. "Oh my god I'm so sorry, that was so quick-" You apologize quickly as you avoid Natasha's gaze, the redhead sitting up with you.

You've dated Natasha for two years but everything has been slow, knowing how the assassin will close herself off if you try and move too fast (emotion wise).

"Hey Y/n no." Nat says softly as she looks at your side profile, a soft frown forming on her face as she sees you. "That's not the reason why." She says as she gently turns your head to face her, fingertips delicately grabbing your chin. "I do want to have a family with you, moya lyubov'..it's just that I can't." Nat whispers and you finally lock eyes with her, seeing the pain and sadness on her face. "What do you mean?' You ask carefully and she sighs, waiting a beat before deciding to tell you. "In the Red Room me and all of my other group mates were sterilized..it was like a sick graduation ceremony that prevented us from having a family of our own." She tells you and hurt immediately grips at your heart, seeing Nat avert her gaze for a moment.

"Why?" You question and she purses her lips together, one of your hands rubbing her knee gently. "So we would never have any distraction from our mission..so that our only purpose in life was to kill and be used as a weapon." Disgust drips from Nat's voice at the last part, your soft hands on her wrist bringing her back to reality. "Im so sorry Nat, I shouldn't have anything I didn't know-" You start to apologize again but Nat stops you with a soft shake of her head, a bittersweet smile on her face. "Don't apologize, Y/n. I'm the one who should be sorry for not being able to give you the family that you deserve." She says and now it's your turn to shake your head, grabbing Nat's hands and caressing them gently. "Its alright baby." You smile gently before an idea pops into your head, your eyes lighting up and Nat gives you a look of curiosity.

"Besides.." You start, gently tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. "If you really..truly..wanted a family with me, there could still be other options. Like adopting or getting a surrogate..or I could get pregnant instead." You suggest and Natasha's eyes light up like the stars in the night sky, a small laugh escaping your lips as you see the excitement on her face.

"Really?! You'd do that?" She asks and you nod your head, giving your girlfriend a soft kiss before laughing. "Mmhm, but you'd have to put a ring on it first, Miss Romanoff." You giggle and Nat wraps her arms around you again, both of you laying back down on the blanket. "Im planning to, future Mrs.Romanoff."

-present day, post-endgame-

You nervously pace around the bathroom as you wait for the three minutes to be up, Natasha sitting on the edge of the bathtub and observing you walk back and forth. The pregnancy test is laying by the sink and you can’t help but glance at it every few seconds, not having felt this nervous since battling Thanos and his army. You’ve faced gods, powerful Titans, super soldiers, but you’re sure this the most nerve wracking thing you’ve ever had to do. Once the timer on Natasha’s phone goes off, you practically jump towards the sink, Natasha leaning forward a bit more on the bathtub. Picking up the white and pink pregnancy test, you nervously turn it over in your hands, eyes scanning the small window for the results.

Natasha doesn’t even have to ask for the results when she sees your shoulders slump and your face drop, quickly getting up from the bathtub to wrap you up in her arms. Hugging you from behind, she can see the negative test in your hands, gently kissing your cheek when you don’t say anything. “It’s okay baby, we can try again.” She says softly and you shake your head, slowly placing the test down and closing your eyes.

“Nat, what if somethings wrong with me?” You whisper and her arms hug you closer, tears pooling under your eyelids in frustration. “Nothing is wrong with you malysh.” Natasha reassures you and you turn in her arms, releasing a shaky breath as you press your face into her neck. “Three times Nat..three fucking times..” You sigh and she only holds you closer, knowing how much hope the both of you had for this one. “I know, I know.” Nat hums softly as she rocks the two of you back and forth gently, feeling the hope starting to dwindle from you. “What if we just weren’t meant to have a biological children? What if we weren’t meant to have lives after the war?” You question out loud and Natasha pulls back, gently tilting your chin up so you can look her in the eyes. “Hey no, don’t say that. We were meant to have a family Y/n, biological or not.” Nat takes a pause to brush some hair out of your face.

“Let’s try one more time, okay? And if that doesn’t work then we can look into other options.” She continues and you think for a moment, not knowing if you could go through the hope and pain again. “Okay.” You whisper softly and Nat nods her head. “Okay.” She echos you before placing a gentle kiss on your forehead, pulling you back in for a hug.

————

Nat’s leg is bouncing up and down as she watches the timer tick down, only ten more seconds before you can check. This is the last try, all or nothing. You’re too anxious to pace this time, instead opting to sit next to Natasha and leaning into her as you watch her leg bounce. “You know..whatever happens, I love you.” Nat says softly when she sees you blankly stare at her knee, lost in thought about what’s going to happen. “I love you too.” You reply equally as soft as you look up at your wife, grabbing her hand and intertwining them slowly.

Leaning into each other, you both share a soft kiss, love shining through the small interaction. You both only pull away when the timer dings, Natasha rubbing your back as you sigh and get up. It feels like time slows down as you walk towards the sink, heart pounding in your chest as you reach out to grab the test. The bathroom is silent as you pick it up and flip it over, looking at the little window for the results. You’re silent as you look at the results, body frozen in place as you stare at the test. Natasha’s brows furrow and she gets up, sighing as she rubs her temples.

“Baby I’m so sorry-” “It’s positive.” You interrupt Nat midway through her sentence, your voice in disbelief as you see those two pink lines. “What?” Natasha asks, unsure if she heard you right. “It’s positive.” You repeat as you turn to face her, pregnancy test in hand as you smile from ear to ear. “You’re pregnant?” Natasha asks, almost in disbelief as she stares at you. “I’m pregnant.” You nod your head and Natasha immediately sweeps you up in her arms, hugging you right and picking you up from the ground. “Holy shit! We’re gonna have a baby!” Nat laughs as she spins you around, joyful giggles falling from your lips as you cling onto your wife.

“Oh my god we’re gonna have a baby.” Nat breathes out as she comes to a stop, quickly putting you down once the realization hits her brain. “Shit, you’re pregnant we need to be careful.” She says and you only laugh, pulling her down a bit to kiss her. “You don’t need to be that a careful dummy, but yes..I’m pregnant.”

————

“Tony gave us an iron man onesie.” You laugh as you hold up the tiny piece of clothing, Natasha grinning as she watches you. Even though the announcement was made a week ago, the gifts have been steadily pouring in, Tony insisting that he pays for the majority of the things that are needed for the new arrival.

He paid for the crib, the high chair, the car seat, most of the nursery, and all the bottles and toys a newborn could ask for. Pepper had a huge part in it too, having experience since bringing Morgan into the world. “That man is self centered.” Natasha laughs as she walks over to where you’re sitting, her heart full of love as she kneels down next to you.

“Mmhm.” You hum in agreement as you fold the article of clothing away, Natasha handing you the next gift. You’re about sixteen weeks along and you’re already showing, a small baby bump forming from your midsection. You both decided to wait until the second trimester to tell the rest of the team, wanting to enjoy the first few months in peace.

Natasha watches you wordlessly as you open a gift from Steve, a smile tugging on her lips as she sees the captain america pacifier. “I love you so much.” She blurts out randomly and your head turns to face her, a smile on your face as you gently kiss her.

“You’ve gone soft Romanoff.” You tease and she only laughs, gently kissing you again. “I blame you, you’ve made me domestic.” She grins and you roll your eyes, placing the gift to the side.

————

As the pregnancy goes along, you start to notice Natasha’s lack of touch, the redhead only going as far as running her hands through your hair or holding your shoulders. You have no idea what has gotten into her and you're determined to investigate, missing the way Natasha used to spoon and cuddle you all day.

Your questions were finally answered when one day you and Natasha were watching TV in bed, the redhead's arm slung around your shoulder as you lean into her. When the commercial break finally came on, you turned your head to look at your wife, curiosity written all over your face. "Why don't you cuddle me anymore, Nat?" You ask softly and she looks at you with confusion, lowering down the volume on the TV. "What do you mean? I cuddle you all the time baby." She says and you shake your head, reaching up and gently toying with her hair.

"Ever since I've gotten pregnant you've treated me like I could break at any moment, what are you so afraid of?" You question and Natasha sighs, glancing at her lap for a moment before answering. "With these hands I've done some awful things Y/n..things too horrific to say out loud. I feel like if I touch you or the baby I'll just ruin it, or hurt you..like everything else in my life." Nat confesses softly and your heart melts at how scared your wife is, knowing how much she's struggled with her past and with the red in her ledger. "Natasha Romanoff." You whisper, gently grabbing her hands to put them in between the two of you. "You are the kindest," You start, gently kissing her knuckle. "Most caring." another kiss, "Most selfless" another kiss, "Person I've ever met" another kiss. "And I know, with my whole heart and soul, you would never do anything to hurt me or the baby." You look up at her and gently rub your knuckles over the back of her hands. "So please stop acting like you will. These are the hands that I love, the hands that will raise our child, they're strong and secure, so stop thinking otherwise." You finish as you wordlessly move both your hands towards your belly, gently placing Natasha's hands over the bump.

The redhead is stunned as your hands rest over hers, the baby suddenly kicking. A wide smile spreads across your face as you both look down at your belly, the baby never having kicked before. "That was the first time they've ever kicked." You inform Natasha and you could see her still processing that fact. "That's our baby?" She asks softly and you laugh, nodding your head. "Mmhm, that's our baby. They recognized their mama." You say fondly as the baby kicks again, Natasha's heart bursting with warmth as she looks at you.

Slowly, Natasha moves to lay down on the bed, resting her head right beside your bump and holding it gently. "Hi malen'kiy golub'." She whispers softly, your hand coming down to gently play with her hair. You smile as you watch Natasha gently cuddle with your bump, knowing without a doubt that she's going to be a great mother.

-----

Placing the stuffed animals down on the table, you turn to look at Natasha, a giggle coming from your lips as you walk over to her. "What?" Nat grins as she turns to face you, putting the paintbrush down to the side.

"You're a mess." You laugh as you rub some pastel green paint from her cheek, both of you deciding that the nursery would be painted a light grey with a pastel green accent wall. "I'm still hot though." She teases and you only roll your eyes, cupping her face as you gently kiss her.

"Yeah yeah you're always hot." You laugh and Natasha looks around the room, grinning at the stack of Avenger's themed stuffed animals your team gave you. "They're all trying to be known as the cool uncle aren't they?" She asks softly and you nod your head, knowing that whatever Avenger your child takes after will forever have that bragging right.

"Let them have their fun, they're happy for us." You smile and Nat only sighs, shaking her head with a small smile on her face.

-----

You feel like Natasha was more anxious than you when you went into labour, your water breaking in the middle of the night. There wasn't any dramatic screaming or freaking out, you just calmly pushed the sheet back and let out a soft "huh" as you saw the damp bedsheets.

"Oh, okay we're doing this." You say before turning on the light, acting like it was any other day as you gently shake Natasha awake. "Nat, baby wake up." You whisper softly as Natasha stirs, squinting at the light once her eyes opened. "Y/n? What's wrong?" Nat mumbles sleepily as she rubs the sleep from her eyes, seeing you in a sitting up position.

"My water broke." You say and it takes a second for the words to process in Natasha's brain, the redhead suddenly sitting up and fully awake. "What? Okay okay it's happening. It's happening." Nat says as she pushes the sheets off herself, her mind immediately going to all the books she's read over the past nine months. You've already packed your hospital bags a few weeks in advance so you aren't too stressed about it, only needing to change and grab a few extra things. Natasha, on the other hand, is working on full overdrive, pulling on sweatpants and making sure everything is in order.

"Natasha, baby." You say as you gently grab her arm, needing your wife to slow down if you're going to survive the next few days. "You need to calm down my love." You say softly as you hold onto her shoulders, making the redhead look at you and take a few deep breaths. "Okay..okay. I'm sorry. I'm just nervous." Natasha admits and you nod your head, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear.

"It's okay to be nervous Nat, you just need so slow down. We haven't even gotten to the hospital yet." You laugh softly and she nods her head, waiting a few more moments before stepping back slowly. "Okay, let's have a baby."

---

Your head is resting back against Natasha's shoulder as she acts like a backrest to you, allowing you to grip onto her hand when your contractions hit. Nat has been nothing but supportive the entire time, humming reassuring words into your ear as the pain washes over your body.

"Fuck." You whimper once another round of contractions end, Natasha's hand coming up to gently push back the sweaty hairs sticking to your forehead. "You're doing amazing baby, I'm so proud of you." She hums and you sigh, closing your eyes as you feel your wife rub your back. It's quiet as you feel Natasha's hands move down to your bump, rubbing your stomach softly as she sighs.

"Come on malen'kiy golub, your mommies are so excited to meet you." Nat coos and you smile into her neck, warmth flooding your chest as you listen to her. "And I know all of your aunties and uncles are excited to meet you too. We're so excited to hug you, and kiss you, and watch you grow." She hums as she rubs small circles on your belly.

"So please come out before your mommy kills me." Both of you laugh and you snuggle more into Natasha's embrace. "You're going to be an amazing mom." You whisper and Nat grins, looking at you with a quirked eyebrow. "Yeah?" She asks and you nod your head. "Yeah..I couldn't have asked for a more amazing wife, best friend, and now..a mother to our daughter." You hum and Nat blushes, kissing you gently.

----

Your eyebrows furrow as you grip onto Natasha’s hand, pain coursing through your body as you deliver the baby. “You’re doing amazing y/n, almost there.” Nat says as you practically crush her hand, hiding the pain in her face as she watches you. "Congratulations, it's a healthy baby girl." The doctor announces as the baby's cries fill the room, your chest heaving as you lay back. Nat cuts the umbilical cord ("I've seen worst in Budapest") and they place the baby on your chest, draping a blanket over the two of you to keep you warm.

"Hi baby." You coo as you hold your child close to your chest, Natasha standing next to you with unshed tears in her eyes. You look up at her and sniffle (you're crying so hard at this point) as you see the look of awe on her face, smiling as you gently reach out to grab her hand. Softly placing her hand atop of the baby's blanketed back, she slowly moves her thumb, the child's cries quieting at both of her mother's touch. Nat is speechless as she watches the tiny newborn cling onto your chest, loving the warmth radiating off of your body.

"She's a boob man, just like her mama." Nat whispers and you laugh, that being the first thing that comes to her mind. Your child's hand slowly comes up and wraps her fingers around Natasha's thumb, that being the breaking point for the tears as they finally fall down her cheek.

----

"Are you gonna hold her or are you just going to stare at me?" You ask as Natasha watches you and Mila sit on the bed, the two of you now alone with your child. Natasha looks hesitant as she walks over to you, never feeling so nervous as you look up at her.

"You aren't going to break her Nat." You say and Nat's eyebrows furrow, seeing the tiny infant look up at her with Y/c/e. The baby took from both you and Natasha, having scarlet red hair from her and beautiful y/c/e from you. "I just don't know..I mean what if I drop her? What if I do something wrong?" Nat worries her bottom lip between her teeth and you only beckon her to come closer, scooting over so she can sit on the hospital bed.

"You won't Nat, I promise." You reassure her and she slowly sits down on the bed, following your instructions as she places her hands out. Gently transferring the baby into her arms, you smile as Mila looks up at her mama, letting out a soft "gah". "See? She loves you already." You hum as you rub Mila's hair gently, seeing the love on Natasha's face. "Hi Mila." Nat breathes out as you rest your head on her shoulder, watching your wife interact with the baby. The tears return to Natasha's eyes as the newborn looks up at her, her emotions going everywhere as she processes that this is her child, her little bundle of joy that she gets the privilege of sharing with you. "Thank you." Nat whispers out as she looks at you, a smile on her face as she sniffles.

"For what?" You question and she only kisses you softly, smile still on her face as she pulls away. "For giving me another reason to live for." She whispers and her statement covers a wide range, thank you for being her wife, thank you for giving her a chance, thank you for her daughter, thank you for giving her the family she's always wanted, just thank you.

----

Mila's cries ring out through your room and pierce your eardrums, rousing you and Nat from your slumber.

"Mm, I've got it." You sleepily mumble out of instinct as you start to get up, now used to getting woken up in the dead of night.

Mila still doesn't have a sleep schedule since she's a newborn so sometime's she'll sleep for a few hours and other times only for ten minutes.

This time around though, you get gently pushed back onto the bed by Natasha, feeling a comforting kiss placed on your temple as your wife gets up. "I've got it, moya lyubov'." She whispers and you don't have enough energy to resist, watching as Nat walks over to the bassinet. "Hi malen'kiy golub, you have a healthy set of lungs don't you?" Nat mumbles sleepily as she pulls the newborn from the crib, cradling the baby to her chest and gently rocking her back and forth. "Yeah I know, it's okay baby. It's okay, mama's got you." She hums as the baby's cries slowly die down, you still sitting on the bed as you watch your wife in awe. "Your mommies need their sleep huh little one, that sounds nice doesn't it." Nat yawns and you cant help but smile.

"But don't worry, every time you wake up we'll be here okay? We'll love you and hug you each time you cry. And I'm gonna protect you, malen'kiy golub. I won't let anything happen to you or your mommy, I promise." Natasha coos as she continues to rock Mila, not noticing how you're wide awake now. It's a soft, quiet vow, spoken in the dead of night, that Natasha will protect her family with everything she has in her..and it makes you fall more in love with her, if that's even possible.

Getting up, you make your way over to your wife, gently placing your hands on her shoulders to notify her of your presence. She knew you were coming as soon as she heard the bedsheets rustle, even in her tired state she was looking out for the two of you. "Hi." Nat greets you softly and you only hum, a tired smile on your face as you rest your head on her shoulder. Your hand comes up and is gently placed on Mila's back, rubbing soft circles on her onesie. Natasha's heart swells as she looks at her small family, smiling when you kiss her cheek. "I love you." You whisper before looking down at your daughter. "And I love you too." You hum, gently kissing her fiery red hair. Nat kisses your temple gently and closes her eyes, finally at peace with her daughter in her arms and you at her side.

#natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff x y/n #natasha romanoff x you #natasha romanoff #marvel #black widow #mcu #black widow x reader

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griffintail · 4 years ago

Note

I had this idea, I dunno if it’s dumb or not, but I figured if anyone knew it would be you! Y’know, cause you seem like you know way more than me about all these mcyt guys and gals? Anyways, I saw that a lot of people headcanon that Shlatt was Tubbo’s dad, and seeing all those dad!Shlatt AUs gave me an idea:

What if after Shlatt’s dead, after things have settled, after Tubbo becomes president and spends most of his time cleaning up the messes and mistakes Shlatt left behind- he discovers he wasn’t Shlatt’s only child. He finds handwritten letters in Shlatt’s files from a distant village, all of them fairly recent, asking him for child support money, or asking him to take “his mistake” with him. But the last letter Tubbo finds is a typed one informing Shlatt that the woman who sent all the previous letters has died, and that he has 1 month to come collect his child, or they’ll become a ward of the state; it’s been roughly 2 and a half weeks since that letter arrived. How would Tubbo react to all of this, and more importantly, would he take on the responsibility of becoming his new sibling’s guardian?

I don’t know how I became the person to come to for this lol. I hope you enjoy!

The Girl with the Horns

Pairings: Brother! Tubbo x Child! F! Reader

Warnings: Mentions of emotional abuse, Implied Buillying, Swearing

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Tubbo looked up the old White House building, taking a deep breath before going in. Inside, he immediately scrunched up his nose at the familiar smell of alcohol and cigarette smoke.

“Damn it, dad.” He muttered under his breath before starting to clean up the building.

He said he’d clean the building out himself as his father was the one who trashed it and now was that day. A lot of his presidency was cleaning up Schlatt’s mistakes before he even ran the rest of his new country. He sighed as he put another empty bottle in a trash bag. Schlatt had really lost it running things.

Slowly but surely, Tubbo was able to get the White House to a much cleaner state. He was now in the main office and was searching the drawers for his father's inevitable “secret” booze stashes when he found some handwritten letters tucked in the very back of the drawer. Frowning, Tubbo took them out and saw them all addressed to Schlatt.

Sitting down, Tubbo read the letter on top and his eyes went wide, back going straight as he reread the words before him.

I want money for this child you helped bring into this world!

A child?

The rest of the letter was talking about asking for child support and Tubbo was floored. Quickly, he read the next letter and it was much of the same, demanding Schlatt to take responsibility.

“Holy shit…” Tubbo muttered. “I got…I got a sibling?”

He made his way through the rest of the letters, his heart clenching when the woman writing the letters called his poor sibling a mistake or made stabs at Schlatt.

Then the last letter was a lot more formal. It was stamped with an official seal and dated. Schlatt had opened it as told by the broken seal but had obviously also put the letter back without a care after reading. Tubbo’s breath hitched as he read the letter though.

Dear Mr. Jschlatt:

We are sorry to inform you Miss Trentha has passed in an accident.

Behind, she has left a five-year-old (Y/N), of which in our records has your name on her birth papers. We will give you a month’s time to make a decision; after, we will have no choice but to send (Y/N) to become a ward of the state.

Tubbo quickly looked at the date of when the letter was sent.

“Two and a half weeks!” Tubbo exclaimed as he jumped up. “Shit! What should I do?”

He looked around the office he had spent time cleaning trying to process everything at once, words failing him. In a few short moments, he had found out he wasn’t an only child, that Schlatt hadn’t even looked back at this girl or her horrible mother, and that the sibling he just found out about was going to become a ward of the state! Schlatt had at least been kind enough to Tubbo to let Philza raise him but this child going into the adoption system…

“I-I got to run L’Manberg. There’s so much to do.” Tubbo ran a hand through his hair as he panicked.

But then Tommy’s words echoed in his head.

You can’t become the next Schlatt.

Schlatt was obviously going to let this child fend for themselves, Tubbo couldn’t be his father. He had to at least meet them. With a new will, he gathered around his friends, and with reassurances that they had L’Manberg covered, Tubbo set off on a horse to the village. It was a good three-day journey, so he’d only have roughly a week left to make his decision of what he was going to do.

Coming to the village, Tubbo took a deep breath as he stared at it. What was she going to be like? She probably didn’t have the best raising based on the letters that the mother sent. Tying up the horse outside the main hall, Tubbo went in, going through the various processes to prove that he was indeed Jschlatt’s child and proving that his father was dead.

After, they took Tubbo to a home where a bunch of children were outside playing but there was one that stood out among them and it wasn’t because she was sitting alone. It was because she had tiny horns on top of her head that were just starting to come in. Tubbo put a hand on his horns that were just starting to curl without thinking.

“That’s (Y/N).” The man that led him here nodded to the little girl.

“She’s five, right?” Tubbo asked.

“Yes. She’s not very talkative, but you can introduce yourself to her.”

Tubbo had few guesses why she didn’t want to talk. He went over, a few of the other kids were pointing at him. (Y/N) was using a stick to push images in the dirt, looking up when a shadow got in the way of the sun. Tubbo smiled when he saw her surprise when she looked up at him, he sitting next to her, wearing his casual wear rather than his suit.

“Hi. I’m Tubbo.” He introduced himself to her.

(Y/N) was silent as she stared obviously at his horns. “You have horns…”

“Yeah, I do. I’m a ram just like you.”

“Really?” She met his eyes now.

“Mhm. I, uh, I actually knew your dad because he was my dad.”

She shifted as she looked back at the ground. “Daddy was a bad man.”

Tubbo winced, putting a hand on his neck. “Why do you say that?”

“Mommy use to say that.”

“Ah. Well…dad wasn’t the greatest, I agree. It wasn’t nice for him to leave you alone.”

The little girl was silent and Tubbo tried to think of a subject change.

“Do you like drawing?”

She nodded. “Mommy wouldn’t let me use paper but I like drawing in the dirt.”

“Oh…do you…have any friends?”

She put a hand on one of her little horns and he immediately understood.

“I get it.” He smiled gently, putting a hand on his horn. “I didn’t have a lot of friends until I met my best friend Tommy. I’m sure you will find some friends.”

His heart melted as she gave him her first small smile. “I hope so.”

He sat with her just talking away, the time passing so fast without either of them knowing as they talked. He felt like he learned so much but so little about her; yet, he loved every moment sitting with her. She had to go back with the other children of the orphanage but within a few hours, Tubbo made up his mind. He couldn’t leave this little girl with everyone else; he’d take her back to L’Manberg.

So, in the morning, Tubbo put on his suit to be professional and he did the paperwork before waiting for them to bring (Y/N). (Y/N) came in timidly and Tubbo smiled gently as he crouched in front of her.

“Hey, so, I don’t want to leave without you, would you like to come with me? I can introduce you to a few of my good friends.”

“…They’re all nice like you, right?”

He chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck. “Yeah, a few of them are pretty nice.”

She looked around but nodded. “Ok.”

He grinned as he stood up. “Then I’m going to take you back to my home.”

They got the few things that she owned and Tubbo put them on the horse. After, Tubbo changed into more appropriate riding clothes before getting on with (Y/N).

“Alright, here we go.” He muttered before getting the horse to go.

Off they went to L’Manberg, Tubbo making sure they had shelter each night. It was a bit stressful for Tubbo on these few days. He had gotten used to not eating every day but he had to remember now to make sure (Y/N) ate. He also had to remember this was boring as hell for her so he tried his best to make little games as they galloped along. There was a point he went off on a bee tangent for half an hour after spotting one and pouted to himself when he saw (Y/N) had fallen asleep against him but he kept an arm wrapped around her so she didn’t fall off.

As he got back to L’Manberg, he huffed as he saw Tommy and Fundy arguing as Quackity was laughing, Ranboo standing to the side awkwardly. Yeah, that’s how he expected his cabinet to act with him gone. He tied up his horse, grabbing (Y/N)’s things before taking her hand as he walked over to them. As the pair went over, (Y/N) hide behind him shyly.

“Guys!” Tubbo called.

“Tubbo! Tell this furry bitch—” Tommy started.

“Oh, fuck off Tommy!” Fundy shouted back.

They started having another go.

“GUYS!” Tubbo shouted, making (Y/N) jump with the rest of the group. “I have someone for you to meet, so can you shut it?”

Tommy spotted the little girl peeking out from behind Tubbo, noticing the horns first.

“Holy shit, she has horns like yours.” Tommy went around Tubbo.

“Yeah, this is (Y/N), she’s my little sister.”

“A sister?!” Tommy looked at Tubbo surprised.

Tubbo nodded. “I adopted her.”

“I’m sorry?”

“It’s a long story but I’m back and I’m got to bring her to my house,” Tubbo told them before walking off, feeling the little girl squeeze his hand tighter, probably getting overwhelmed.

They got to Tubbo’s house and he looked around.

“Er…You can have my room. I’ll need to make you a room.” He smiled at her.

“Ok…thank you.”

He patted her head between her horns. “I couldn’t leave you behind sis. Let’s get you settled in and I can make us some steak. Sound good?”

She nodded.

Tubbo knew it would be stressful learning to take care of another human while he had to run a nation but he had his friends to help him. He hoped he could do all this right.

#mcyt x reader #mcyt imagine #mcyt fanfiction #tubbo x reader #dreamsmp #dreamsmp x reader

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baroquebucky · 4 years ago

Text

lover is a day

a/n: hi pals !! here is a sort of angsty but fluffy fic inspired by another cuco song ! i cant believe tfaws is over i miss them already :[ lyrics in bold ! srry for any typos </3

buckys mind is racing all the time, you’re there to slow him down

word count: 3.1k

masterlist

will you love this part of me?

Bucky tried his damn best to keep you out of the avenging part of his love. He never introduced you to the team, only telling Steve about you and Sam finding out because he stole Buckys phone and you just so happened to call him.

You saw the trends on Twitter, seeing the videos of your boyfriend easily take down seven men in a bar in madripoor. You tried your best to not watch it, knowing he wouldn’t want you to. Curiosity getting the best of you, you clicked the trend, mouth dropping as you saw the way he fought.

His eyes were cold, he moved like it was second nature to him, it was frightening to see how easy it came to him.

You jumped as your phone vibrated, an incoming call from bucky pausing the video. You hesitated before answering, putting on a bright smile and trying to forget what you had just seen.

“hi doll face” Bucky smiled, you heard the thumping of music in the background.

“hi buck, are you at a club?” You questioned, a smile on your face as he let out a sigh, rolling onto his back on the couch he was on.

“I’m at Sharon’s place, she has this whole museum club thing going on” he explained, your eyes wide at the mention of the agent.

“Sharon? like Steve Sharon? Sharon from shield?” You questioned, bucky smiled at your interest, nodding along to your words, quickly replying when he realized you weren’t on FaceTime.

Bucky kept you in the loop, not wanting you to get caught off guard if anything were to happen. He just made sure you were never in danger and no one knew about you, as much as he’d want to shout from the roof just how much he loved you.

“that’s the one, I’ll explain when i get back” he spoke calmly, rubbing his eyes with the back of his hands as he put you on speaker.

Bucky talked about some movie he wanted to watch, your mind drifting back to the video, your heart thumping in your ears.

“doll?” He asked, his voice echoing in you room.

“what, sorry i got distracted” you replied, trying to play it off. Bucky frowned, his heart sinking at the realization.

“you saw it” he spoke simply, moving to sit up on the couch again, his eyes focusing on the floor.

You wanted to lie, say you had no idea what he was talking about. But you couldn’t, mouth opening only to close seconds later.

“I never wanted you to see that part of me” he spoke, you stayed quiet, letting him talk.

“Doll, I’m not him anymore i promise” he hesisted, “Zemo made me do it and i didn’t think i would- i just im gonna go” he spoke, hanging up quickly, heart heavy.

Furthering my distance from you

Bucky was never the best at speaking his mind, always too caught up in his own thoughts to say what he felt, thinking it never mattered and he should keep to himself.

You texted him right after, telling him to please take care, that you loved him. He didn’t reply.

It wasn’t for another couple days when he came home, entering quietly trying to not wake you up in case you were asleep already.

He set his bags down softly, entering the room and expecting to find you curled up. Buckys heart raced as he looked up to see you staring at him with a smile on your face, getting off the bed quickly and throwing yourself onto him.

“i missed you so much james” you whispered, squeezing him slightly as your arms wrapped around him.

“y/n i-” he began, pushing you back softly. You let go reluctantly, knowing he wanted his space.

I’m okay as long as you keep me from going crazy

“Bucky, it’s okay” you replied, stopping him from going down a rabbit hole if you didn’t. You looked at him, the light from your bedside lamp only slightly illuminating the room.

“i know thats not you anymore, sometimes you have to do something’s to get stuff and i get that angel” you spoke, looking at him softly, slowly grabbing his hand and squeezing.

“i still love you bucky, with all my heart” you smiled, wishing you could see the way his cheeks flushed at your words.

He looked up from the floor, you could barely making out the way his lips turned up in a small smile.

“do you really?” He whispered, stepping closer so that your faces were only inches apart. You nodded, eyes flickering to his lips after a couple of seconds.

“I love you more doll” he replied, ears burning as you pulled him in for a kiss, holding the collar of his shirt to pull him closer.

You pulled away with a smile on your face, looking at him for a second before throwing your arms around him, holding him tightly. Bucky wrapped his arms around after a second, placing a kiss ontop of your head, never wanting to let you go.

You can’t get by with a lie

Bucky shot up, sweating and breathing heavy, looking over to see you stirring slightly at his movement.

“buck?” You mumbled, eyes still closed as you turned opening them slightly to reach for the super soldier. You placed a gentle hand on his vibranium one, looking at him with your fuzzy vision.

“nightmare?” you mumbled, sitting up and looking at him, his chest still heaving as he shook his head.

“no it- I’m fine” he spoke, “Cmon let’s get back to sleep” he smiled tightly but you shook your head, looking at him sternly.

“James we talked about this, please, talk to me angel” you looked at him, now fully awake and wanting to help bucky through his nightmares. He hesitated, sighing and fiddling with the edge of the blanket.

“okay” he nodded, heart racing as you helped him through his nightmare. You reminded him how he had changed, how he was a new person and he was trying his best to make amends.

“You’re okay, you’re here and you’re free” you spoke, hugging him tightly and stroking his arm soothingly. Bucky nodded, closing his eyes and focusing on your beating heart.

Funny thing about you is you read me pretty well

You clenched your fist, wanting to throw your laptop across the room as your work frustrated you once again. Your breathing was heavier and you let out a small sigh, not wanting to alert bucky.

After a couple more minutes you felt the tears pricking your eyes, squeezing them shut in hopes they would go away.

You got up quickly, heading toward the kitchen to get a drink of water, leaving bucky alone in the room. He turned to look at you, noting how fast you were walking and the way you were breathing shakily.

Bucky gave you a minute, waiting to see if you’d come back. When you didn’t return he followed you, seeing you staring out the cup in your hand with intense focus.

“doll, what’s wrong?” You looked at him, putting a smile on your face and shaking your head.

“I’m fine buck, just thirsty” he frowned, walking towards you and pulling you into his arms.

“i know you too well for that to work on me doll” he sighed, stroking your back softly as you but back tears, finally letting a sob out. “let it out doll I’m here.”

Me and Mr. Heart we say the cutest things about you

Bucky smiled at the way you jumped for joy when you saw a dog in the park, immediately talking his ear off about how you had always wanted your own.

“don’t you think we should adopt? I think we’re at that point y’know?” You smiled, starry eyes as you turned to look at him.

Never in his life had he felt more in love, he thought of how perfect you looked, with slightly messy hair from the wind and a stain on your shirt from the time he accidentally splashed paint on you.

He felt the world around him fade away, focusing only on you and your words, rattling off some facts about people with pets being happier in an effort to convince him.

Bucky thought of the way you had always cared for him, living him with all you were. He thought of how you were the most caring person in the world to him, how you were the most radiant person in the room no matter what.

He loved you so much and all he wanted was to make you happy.

“I’ve always been a cat person” he teased, loving the way you rolled your eyes with a playful smile on your face.

“we could get a cat, they’re calm and sweet” you nodded, taking his hand and pulling him towards the parking lot.

How could bucky say no when you looked so excited?

You held the white cat in your arms a few weeks later, a huge smile on your face as he purred into your touch.

“welcome home alpine” you smiled, setting the cat down and letting him explore.

Buckys heart grew in his chest, you seemed so unreal. You were everything he ever wanted and everything he ever needed. And you were all his.

You looked at bucky, a smile on your face as he picked up the cat, setting him gently on his lap.

“thought you were gonna get us a dog the whole time we were there” he spoke, looking at you as you stared at the pair, standing across the room and putting away some cat food and toys.

“you said you were a cat person” you replied, “plus you’re happy right?” You questioned, walking over and sitting down next to him, reaching out to scratch the back of Alpines ears.

“very happy doll” he smiled, eyes settling on the cat in his lap, wanting to place kisses all over the now sleeping feline.

“then I’m happy that you’re happy” you smiled, kissing his cheek softly, letting your head rest on his shoulder and enjoy the company of your now two favorite boys.

My lover is a day I can’t forget

“Do you remember how we met?” You asked suddenly, bucky smiled as he recalled the memory.

“doll it’s 3 am” he chuckled, the streetlight sneaking in through the curtains as you two lay in bed.

“so you don’t” you huffed, turning so your back would face him. Bucky smiled at your reaction, quickly turning you back around to face him.

“of course i do doll” he replied, a soft smile still on his face, “why?”

“what did you think of me?” You wondered, wiggling a bit to get more comfortable. You had a small smile on your face as he began talking.

“i thought you were too nice, they got your whole order wrong and you still ate the whole thing” he smiled.

Buckys eyes had immediately landed on you when he entered the small diner, seeing you smiling with a couple of your friends.

Steve was insistent on getting him to go to more places and this was #1 on his list.

“so those are my favorites you can always look through the menu though i guess” steve smiled, noticing his friends focus on you.

“thank you!” You smiled at the waitress, taking the dish from her, turning to your friends as soon as she left.

“i didn’t order this” you grumbled, your friends insisting you send it back.

“but what if she’s having a bad day already? and this is the last straw? It’s fine i can just eat it it’ll be fine” you shook your head, taking a bite and making a face.

“send it back y/n!” Your friend persisted and you shook your head, you were so stubborn.

“it’s not that bad!” You smiled, eating the whole thing, “wish it was the other one though” you giggled as your friends rolled their eyes.

Bucky kept glancing over at you, trying to not make it obvious. Steve decided against saying anything, making easy conversation with his best friend.

You hit your friend gently, a blush on your face when your eyes had landed on the two super soldiers.

“okay don’t be obvious” you began, “that’s steve rogers and bucky barnes?” You whispered, your friends all turning and looking at the table.

Bucky had just so happened the be glancing over, making eye contact with you, his face went red as he saw your whole table staring at the pair.

“You were so shy, you didn’t even have the guts to say hi” he teased and you punched him softly.

“you didn’t say anything either in my defense” you smiled, fiddling with his dog tags.

You turned back quickly, slapping a hand on your face as your friends laughed. “I said don’t be obvious did i not!”

“didn’t you say you would die for him? You talk about him almost everyday” your friend teased and you hit her, face burning.

“shut up! they’re super soldiers what if they hear you” you snuck a glance at their table, seeing the way bucky had a small smirk on his face and Steve was holding back a laugh.

“i hate you guys, i really do” you mumbled, “should i say sorry? I feel like i should say sorry right?”

“You just want an excuse to give that man sex eyes” another one of your friends spoke up and you rolled your eyes.

You snuck a glance at bucky making eye contact, you gave a small smile which he happily returned, waving slightly. You waved back, quickly turning back to your friends as your heart raced.

You and your friends paid and left not long after, Steve and bucky following a couple minutes after. You said your goodbyes in the parking lot, giving them tight hugs.

“you sure you don’t want a ride?” They had asked and you shook your head, waving her off as you walked to the bus stop down the street, sitting on the bench and scrolling through your social media mindlessly.

You looked up as someone sat next to you, giving them a small smile before realizing it was bucky. Your eyes went wide and you froze, eyes focused on your now locked phone. You could hear your heartbeat in your ears.

You glanced at bucky, face flushing when you made eye contact.

“you were so charming, i still don’t understand how you could be so calm” you spoke, looking at him as he let out a snort.

“i was shitting myself the whole time doll” he laughed, “I’m surprised i didn’t fuck up the moment i opened my mouth.”

“I’m bucky” he smiled, extending his had for you to shake. You smiled back, shaking his hand before replying, “I’m y/n.”

You were quiet for a second before turning to face him again, “I’m sorry for my friends in the diner, they can be a bit much” you chuckled, fiddling with your phone in your hands.

“don’t worry ‘bout it, I’m flattered honestly” he replied and you cocked your head.

“oh?” You replied, confused at his response.

“I mean to have a pretty girl like you thinking about me? An honor really” he spoke smoothly, a charming smile on his face as he looked at you.

“i- well- uh, thank you?” You let out a breathy laugh, and he smiled at you, moving onto another topic of conversation.

Next thing you knew the two of you were sat together on the bus, laughing as you two exchanged stories and talked about your interests.

“this is my stop” you frowned, not wanting to end the conversation yet. Buckys heart raced, debating on wether or not he should make a move or not. Steve would surely have his head on a spike if he didn’t.

“i- well, if you want i can walk you, it’s dark and i don’t want you in any danger” he spoke, stumbling in his words.

“I’d love that buck” you smiled and he looked at you with a grin on his face, following you out of the bus.

The evening air was cool, it felt nice against your flushed skin, a smile on both of your faces as you walked towards your apartment. The sound of your laughter filling the open air.

You arrived at your apartment building, exchanging numbers and saying goodbye, already looking forward to see each other next time.

“can’t believe you walked me back” you giggled, butterflies in your stomach as you remembered how flirty he was that night.

“i never told you but i had actually driven to the place” bucky blushed, “Steve had been busy earlier so we met up there” he laughed as your mouth flew open.

“so you had to go all the way back to get your car?!” Bucky smiled bashfully, “you even paid to take the bus!” You squealed, sitting up quickly and leaning against the headboard.

“I wasn’t gonna let public transportation stand between me and the love of my life!” Bucky replied quickly, sitting up next to you.

“you barely knew me!”

“i wanted to get to know you! that was the whole point” he shot back, a smile on his face when he noticed how flustered you were.

“you did all that for me” you looked at him fondly and he nodded.

“and I’d do so much more for you now” Bucky smiled, kissing your cheek softly before moving to your jaw and then your lips.

“I love you so much doll” he whispered, pulling you into his arms. You let him wrap himself around you, holding you closely to his chest.

“i love you more lovely” you replied, placing a soft kiss on his bicep. He held you for a couple more moments before letting go, letting you move back to his side and lay on his chest.

“you do so much for me doll, you keep me grounded, you make me happy, you keep me from going crazy, wish i could do the same” he mumbled, his fingers scratching at your scalp and making your eyes flutter shut.

“you do all that and more for me too james, you just never realize” you whispered, yawning as he continued his movements.

“how about we go to sleep, and I’ll tell you all tomorrow just how much you do for me, yeah?” You mumbled, opening your eyes slightly. Bucky nodded, laying down and getting comfortable, moving so that he could spoon you, draping an arm around your waist and pulling you to his chest.

“goodnight lover boy” you mumbled, he smiled at the nickname.

“goodnight dollface” he whispered, kissing your neck softly before closing his eyes, hearing alpines soft purring from across the room.

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes drabble #bucky barnes one shot #bucky barnes fanfiction #soft Bucky Barnes #flirty Bucky Barnes #bucky barnes angst #bucky x you #bucky x reader #bucky imagine #bucky fluff #bucky angst

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delldarling · 3 years ago

Text

bearberry bargain | pyre

male arctic fox shifter x gender/body neutral reader 10,261 words lemon | older shifter, knotting, oral, penetrative sex, no choking but there is throat touching, tricks and bargains, getting lost note: this was the Story of the Month for December 2020 over on my Patreon! It is loosely tied into the same world as my dragon fellow Arroven, but reading Arroven’s story first is most definitely not required.

————-　🦊　————-

The tundra is a gorgeous, but unforgiving landscape. You can hear the words on repeat in your head, clear as a twice damned bell. Worse than that, you can see Bristle, the orc woman that had served as your guide out here, in your mind's eye saying the words as she gestured to the fog drenched terrain. And The Mirrored Teeth are a little more dangerous than most. In the rain, or like now, in the fog, the stone spires gleam. They are beautiful, and all too easy to mistake for a far off porch light, or street lamp—but that isn’t what’s truly dangerous out here.

Bristle’s partner, a curly haired satyr by name of Rhim, with coins jingling in his carefully coiffed beard, had then stepped up to speak. Unfortunately, The Mirrored Teeth weren’t named for the teeth-like spires alone. The mirroring, or in this case, echoing, is the real danger. Voices carry strangely out here when the fog is thick, and if someone is lost? Our first instinct is to travel towards a light, or someone shouting. Whether the voices are our own, bouncing back to us from the spires or the mountains, or they’re the product of a still-living magical area?

They’d both spoken in unison then, smiling at each other with the ease of familiarity: Don’t follow the voices.

Each person in the tour group had been given a small token after their list of safety precautions, to serve as a tracker in case someone was separated. One person had asked if it was likely to get lost, and Bristle had snorted before she’d adopted her tour guide voice again. To come out here in the first place, everyone had been asked to sign a waiver because, inevitably, someone did end up wandering away. They followed voices that sounded like loved ones from past or present. They followed voices that sounded like themselves, calling out warnings. It was generally why people ended up taking the tour in the first place, listening eagerly for a voice they’d long since thought lost, or some kind of warning from their future self, so compelling and entrancing that they must be the product of magic. Most, though not all, of the people were generally found. Overtired and aching from sleeping on the ground out in the cold, but otherwise unharmed. Whatever caused the voices, magic or not, didn’t seem to hurt people, only leave them confused.

A few of the others currently with the group had come out for more academic reasons. Art and science in most cases, but otherwise those going on the tour were magic chasers, looking to record the fog voice phenomena for further study.

You might not have come out here with a recorder, but you can’t exactly deny that magic chaser applies to you as well. Claims of The Mirrored Teeth holding tangible residual magic are terribly rampant. You’ve wanted to witness it for yourself, to hear the voices, or feel the soft ache of magical energy on your skin, just the once. You’ve wanted… Well, it’s hard sometimes, not to want to feel the call of magic.

“And look where it’s led you,” you mutter, searching your pockets for the hundredth time. You know you won’t find the token, that you must have lost it when you slipped on some slick moss about an hour ago, but you can’t stop yourself now. It’s like trying to leave a loose thread alone once nervous fingers have found it. You keep reaching for the token, keep trying to find it, even though you know nothing you do will help any longer. You don’t recognize any of the surrounding terrain.

When you’d started out with the tour group, there hadn’t been anything but fog and the scrubby ground, hardened by a hidden layer of permafrost. You’d seen pictures of the teeth-like spires, but hadn’t been able to spot any when you first arrived. Now, every time you turn around it feels like you’re surrounded by the damned things. They radiate a soft glow, magnified further by the heavy mist and from far off? They look just like the teeth they’re named for. “Done in by moss,” you add, straining your eyes to see further through the fog. ”Not even by the voices!” Which, frankly, was disappointing. Not that you wanted to be lost in the first place, but hearing some of the voices the Mirrored Teeth are known for would have at least given you a better reason. An expected reason to be lost or wandering away from the group. Instead you’d simply slipped, brushed off a handful of withered greenery and pebbles, and had gotten back to your feet to find yourself alone.

You’d shouted yourself hoarse after the first half hour, calling out for Bristle and Rhim, staying in the same place, or assuming you’d stayed in the same place. You’d bent to find the token again, but even that had apparently been too much movement. Every time you lifted your head to look away from the ground, there was a different bit of flora springing up in front of you—and then you’d nearly smacked yourself head first into one of the spires, none of which are clearly marked on the map you have of the surrounding area. There’s always too much mist to plot them.

“Bristle! Rhim?” You call out again, cupping your hands around your mouth, not knowing if you should even hope for some kind of answer. What if they don’t answer because of the echoes? What if that’s the reason they’ve yet to answer in the first place?

The soft crack of a branch makes you whirl, throat growing tight when you spot the shadow of three figures through the fog. They straighten up, huffing, and the fog slowly spins away, shadows coalescing and revealing an older man shouldering a pack that he’s clearly just dug up from the ground. For a moment, he’s silent, staring, hand clenching tight at his pack as his eyes rove over your face. His gaze dips to your feet and lifts quickly back to your face before he wipes the surprise from his expression. “I hoped I was mistaken,” he grouses in a soft voice, tossing his head to get his ragged mane of salt and pepper hair out of his eyes. “But ‘lo, a human. Those tours are getting earlier and earlier every year, aren’t they?” He sighs, not asking like he expects an answer, but more like he’s just making an unpleasant statement. For half a second you have a retort on your lips, but the longer you stare, the more words vanish from your vocabulary.

The man has clearly tried to tame his ragged hair, weaving it into a messy, short braid that’s just long enough to hang over his right shoulder. There are earrings hanging from his right earlobe, dangly things that clink softly while he brushes impatiently at the dirt on his knees. His jacket, once a lovely heather gray, and obviously a match to a long lost suit, is patched and worn in multiple places. His jeans are nothing to write home about either, with frayed hems and patched knees. He has silvery stubble on his cheeks, and crows feet at the corners of his copper eyes, and—and a long tail, like a bottlebrush, fur standing on end. Until he sees that you’re watching. The tail vanishes behind his legs and your eyes zero in on his sharp nailed fingers, the backs of his knuckles covered with pale, soft looking hair. He grimaces, baring razor edged teeth, and promptly makes to stride past you, not even bothering to wait for you to get out of the way. He draws a rough breath as soon as he bumps into you, flinching away from actually knocking you to the ground, but it’s near enough to set your temper stoking.

Frankly? His manners are atrocious. But you’re also lost somewhere out in the tundra, and even if he doesn’t know where your tour is, he knows of them. You wrestle your temper into staying silent and rush after him.

“Wait! Hey, wait up,” you ask, ignoring the thrill that runs through you when you snag hold of his jacket sleeve and his tail bristles again. He’s not just hiding a tail either. His feet look more like great canine paws, which means—

The man whirls, and you spot two furred ears hidden under his uneven hair before he yanks his arm away from you, breathing far too fast. “Surely you know better than to grab at a shifter?” He hisses, leaning in close to your face. For half a second, he’s close enough for you to feel warmth radiating off of his body, but then his nostrils flare and his voice grows quiet. “Or are you from one of those backwater humans only villages in the East?”

“I’m—I’m sorry for grabbing you,” you blurt, mildly startled by his proximity to your face. “And while yes, that wasn’t a smart idea, I’m lost out here. Would it have been smarter of me to let you leave me in the dust before I asked for directions?” You take a slow step back, though you don’t let your eyes drop from his. You’re not going to take your eyes off of him for even a second if it means the fog is going to swallow him up and leave you all on your lonesome again.

The shifter narrows his copper eyes, highlighting the faint wrinkles in his brown skin. “Lost, you said?” He straightens, and keeps staring, eerily still. His frown only grows more pronounced when you nod your head. “You’re three days out from where the tours start. How long have you been lost?”

“Three days,” you repeat, uncomprehending. For another few seconds, the words don’t make any kind of sense. You’ve been separated from your group, according to your watch, for just over an hour. When you glance at the timepiece, only another handful of minutes have passed, but not enough time to even come close to explaining three days worth of travel. Your pulse is already racing, but it’s beginning to grow past the point of discomfort and into painful territory with how hard your heart is working. How the hell are you supposed to get back? “That’s not possible,” you breathe.

He doesn’t soften, but for a few moments he doesn’t look quite so irritated. “If you heard anything at all on that tour, then I’m sure you know it is possible. Residual magic, yes? It can do quite a bit more than just throw voices like a puppeteer.” He shifts his weight, like he’s ready to leave the moment you give him a chance.

“I’ve been lost for an hour,” you say, hoping that will spell out exactly how ridiculous you find his claims. “And I did my best to stay in one place. I’ve barely even begun to walk anywhere, and I didn’t—didn’t feel anything magical.”

“Isn’t it terribly rare to feel anything magical?” He asks, only gently mocking. “So few people even notice when something magical has happened to them. Now, it sounds as if the fog leapfrogged you through space,” he adds, wrinkling his nose. “Or did those green guides of yours not mention that something like this might happen?” He waits, but when you don’t immediately answer, the shifter sighs again, shakes his head and pivots, heading back into the still-swirling fog, ready to leave you behind.

You make another desperate grab for his sleeve, thankful that he only grimaces when he turns back to face you again. “In fact, yes, they did forget to mention! If you happen to have a satellite phone, or maybe-”

The shifter laughs and your grip on his sleeve grows slack. He’s rather handsome when he smiles, and looks like some kind of down-on-his-luck musician, dreaming of his glory days. You hastily let go of his sleeve, before he decides to yank himself away a second time. “Me? Ol’ Pyre, wandering about the tundra with a satellite phone?” He lifts his bag, clumps of dirt still falling from it. “I’m coming out this way to spend the winter in my other skin, and generally? Foxes have no use for phones.” He lifts his chin, scenting the air, and then nods his head in the direction behind you. “Head that way and the fog is likely to lead you right back.”

“Likely or certain?” You press, scowling. “Because there’s a rather large difference between those two options, and I’m not going to risk myself on likely.”

Pyre huffs out a sharp edged: “Which do you think?” before he registers the way your hands are starting to shake with nerves. His mouth opens, and then snaps shut. For a long moment he’s quiet, gritting his teeth, eyebrows furrowed. “You’re not prepared for more than an evening trek through the tundra, are you? Enough food for a snack and dinner round a campfire before they herd you back?”

A small wave of relief loosens your shoulders. If he’s asking, then surely he’s not going to turn tail and leave you all by your lonesome? You start to smile, ready and willing to ask for further help, but Pyre turns away with a quiet curse.

“Pitiful idiots,” he says, glancing up at the sky, even though he can’t see anything but the vague hint of daylight through the thick fog. “Three days. And leaving would be akin to murder.” He bares his teeth, still looking up for a few seconds longer before he turns a sharp look your way, fingers curling and uncurling at his side. “I’ll lead you as far as the Slavering river. If you stick to that and keep yourself from wandering off into the fog again, you’ll certainly make it close enough for those idiot guides to find you.”

Slavering, the river is called, Bristle’s voice picks up in your head again, because they once thought the tundra a hungry thing, with teeth besides. She’d gestured to the West, though none of the group had been able to spot or hear the roar of the water yet. It had just been another wall of fog over hard earth and low growing shrubs. We’ll end our hike there.

You offer Pyre your hand, still worried about the trek, still ill at ease with what the fog has done, but feeling decidedly less panicked. Residual magic my ass. As soon as I’m back, the guides are going to expand that little safety speech of theirs.

“Thank you, really. I appreciate it. If I hadn’t—”

“Save your breath for the walk,” Pyre mutters and fully ignores your outstretched hand, skirting around you in a wide arch so he won’t risk touching you accidentally. He doesn’t get more than a few paces away though before he’s turning to look at you over his shoulder. “And keep up. If the fog decides to deposit you somewhere else, there aren’t many other helpful shifters wandering about the area.” He saunters off ahead, trusting you to make your own way, but the fur on his tail doesn’t lay flat until you’re jogging to catch up with him.

“Are there dangerous shifters then?” You risk asking, thankful for your heavy coat and the weight of your own pack. Bristle and Rhim hadn’t mentioned any shifters in the area at all, but then they also hadn’t told any of you that the residual magic might move you without your knowledge. Perhaps they would have, if you’d been allowed to stick around, but it feels like a glaring oversight, now that you’re all the way out here. Maybe this is why they make everyone sign the waiver. Not because of some idiotic, siren-like voices, but because of magical fog.

Pyre’s ears twitch, visible for only a split second through his hair. “Don’t wander off,” is all he chooses to add before he falls silent, doing his best to stay several steps ahead of you to discourage speech.

“That’s encouraging,” you mutter, and his ears twitch again, but he doesn’t respond. The walk to the Slavering is going to feel like a very long one from the looks of it, and it isn’t just because everything looks much the same no matter which way you turn. You shove your hands deep in your coat pockets, watching the middle of Pyre’s back, and do your best not to unconsciously search for the lost token. You already know your pockets are still empty.

————-　🦊　————-

Despite Pyre’s desire for absolute silence, he mutters about things without thinking. He comments quietly on a hare speeding away when a noise startles you. He grabs up handfuls of wild berries off of the scrubby bushes you pass, promptly dropping any that are too spoiled to be edible. He flicks some of them away with soft, but mocking farewells until he recalls that you’re not far behind him, listening to everything he says. Pyre’s threadbare shoulders always rise with embarrassment, but after the third time it happens and he remembers you’re there, he sighs, shaking off his chagrin. He pauses just long enough to grab your arm and slap some of the berries into your open palm, doing his best not to meet your eyes.

When he speaks, he keeps his eyes on your fingers, touch careful and tense. “Eat those if you’re feeling peckish, or save them for this evening and you can boil them down into tea. Don’t dive into any of your stores if you can until sometime tomorrow.”

“What about you?” You ask, noticing that he’s barely kept any at all for himself. A berry or two slips away, rolling off of your hand and dropping to the ground.

Pyre arches a brow, closing your hand around the berries so no more can fall before he takes a step back. “I’ll be hunting as soon as I leave you by the river. I’m more than well equipped to look after myself out here. A few berries won’t make much of a difference.”

“Is this a regular thing for you then? Coming out here to the tundra once a month for shifting?”

“For the winter,” Pyre corrects in a sour tone, and then turns back to his chosen path again. “Coming out to the tundra isn’t a regular thing for you though, is it? Or was it just the magic that left you so frightened?”

The berries he’s given you are small and gleaming red, and you don’t much care for his continued irritable attitude. You pop three into your mouth while you ignore him, expecting it to be, at the worst, bitter. Instead it’s dry. You make a noise of distaste, which makes Pyre glance back again. He stops, confused for all of two seconds before his eyes widen and he chokes on his laugh. The sour twist of your mouth is clue enough. “Definitely not a regular traveling spot,” he states. “Unfamiliar with bearberries?”

“I hope that isn’t what they taste like when they’re boiled,” you mumble, doing your best to refrain from scrubbing at your tongue. “And no, the tundra isn’t really a prime vacation spot for me or most anyone else. The draw of lingering, tangible magic is a little too much for some people to ignore though. Maybe not everyone, but some of us.”

Pyre hums, tail raising when he hops over a strange looking crack in the earth. “Feeling a call?” He asks, voice far too even to be pleasant.

That’s a personal question in most places, and Pyre has already quietly mocked your interest in magic once. He does seem the type to poke at uncomfortable topics though, to try and get a rise out of someone. His tail is still bristled out as well, quietly hinting that he’s not in a pleasant mood. “Is that why you come out here during the winter? I don’t hear much about other shifters vanishing for an entire season, fox or not.”

“The only call I’ll ever feel is the one to shift,” he grumps, but he does smack his lips and slow down for a moment, letting you keep pace. “I make bad decisions,” Pyre finally adds, as if that clarifies anything at all.

“All the time? Or-”

“Smartass.”

“That wasn’t even hard, are you really going to fault me for that one?” You wait, patiently, but no answer is forthcoming, and then he rushes forward a few steps ahead. “I’ll take that as a yes?” You call out, but Pyre just keeps walking, like he’s reached the end of his tolerance for speaking politely with another living being. “Well, that was nice while it lasted,” you mumble, frowning when you spot his shaking shoulders. He’s—he’s laughing. Maybe he isn’t suffering from lack of manners entirely, but instead has been too long out of practice.

“Not all the time,” Pyre calls back when he trusts his rasp of a voice not to betray his amusement. “Just a fourth of it.”

For the season, he’d said. You snort and don’t even try to hold back a smile when Pyre tilts his head to look at you. His head immediately snaps forward and he shakes it, as if to ward off an unhappy thought. He’s grumpy because... he’s awkward and shy? The last of your fear, still borne aloft by the way he’s spoken thus far, by his quiet mutter of akin to murder eases immeasurably. You follow after him now in less strained silence, a bit more confident now that you’ll make it back to the tour group in one piece.

————-　🦊　————-

Your confidence lasts until early evening, when visibility is becoming a huge issue for you. No matter how well you might see in the dark, the fog feels like it’s pressing in on you from all sides. Pyre hasn’t slowed by much, but then you see the pale, rapid swish of his tail, moving so fast it looks for a moment like he has more and then you recall that he’s a shifter. His eyesight, as well as his sense of smell, are by far better than your own. He might be able to keep going well into the night, but—You grunt, catching your toe on a white rock the height of your ankle. Before you can fall, or do much more than exclaim in quiet pain, Pyre has his hands on your shoulders, keeping you up and steady.

“It’s dark,” he says quietly, by way of apology. “We’ll stop for the night just up ahead. Can you make it?”

“Without tripping over rocks or falling on my face, you mean?” You breathe in, and promptly swallow. He smells a bit like fresh campfire smoke and the faint citrusy scent of the bearberries and he’s entirely too close. You don’t necessarily want him to move away though, not with the darkness growing thick around you. “Probably not,” you admit quietly.

Pyre hums, breathing in slowly, and the sound is terribly intimate. “...you need a hand?”

“Unless you’d rather I trip and skin my knees and palms in the dark? Yes.”

“Humans,” Pyre says, amused, and clucks his tongue as he takes hold of your wrist, turning away to continue on and pull you after him. He only pauses when you try to tug your hand away.

“You can hold my hand instead of towing me along like a kid at the fair. I don’t even have sticky fingers.” You turn your hand, thankful when he lets you adjust his hold. His fingernails, thicker due to his shifting nature, dig a little too hard into the side of your hand before he reflexes his grip.

He pauses, tense, even though his palm is a soothing warmth against yours. “Not sticky,” he finally agrees. Pyre hesitates, like he wants to say more, but a low, strange voice calls out something from far off. As soon as you hear it, the voice has it’s hooks in you. Your entire body grows tense, hair prickling, listening as hard as you can to try to make out the words. “No,” Pyre says in a low growl, trying to interrupt your concentration. He’s only barely louder than the voice. “Don’t listen. It’s all too easy to-”

“That sounds like—”

“It sounds like nothing that matters. Even if you know the voice, it doesn’t matter.” Pyre grunts when you turn your head, trying to follow the fading voice with your ear alone. He rips his hand out of yours so he can take hold of your face, pulling you close until you’re nearly nose to nose with him, thumbs on your cheekbones, fingernails scratching gently behind your ears. “Right now, the only thing that matters is making camp for the night. We’re heading this way and you are not going to go looking for that voice in the dark.”

You suck down a fierce breath, closing your eyes as the last of the echoing voice fades away. As soon as it’s gone, your shoulders start to slump, and you feel strangely hollow. “That is why they make us sign that waiver?” You ask, opening your eyes to find Pyre still terribly close, his hands still cradling your face.

For a moment, he lingers, breath warm against your lips, the wrinkles at the corners of his eyes deepening the longer he stares at you up close. The bright copper of his eyes is muted in the darkness, but the white in his hair, in his eyebrows, stands out brilliantly, and you think there might be more of it now than there was earlier this afternoon. “I knew you’d be a bad decision,” he whispers, and inexplicably, you think he might be about to kiss you. Your heart begins to gallop around your chest, your hands lifting to grasp at his wrists, his own still on your face—and then Pyre pulls away, dragging his nails over your skin. He tangles his fingers with yours and leads you quietly through the dark.

You’re not sure whether you should ask about his other bad decisions again… But you desperately want to.

Putting together the camp is a chilly affair at best. The shelter you help Pyre fumble through in the dark, though of course he has no trouble navigating the process, is little more than a heavy tarp tied securely between two of the tall, white teeth. There isn’t much wind, but now the mist is heavy enough to dot your eyelashes and bead along your sleeves. You don’t quite believe Pyre when he says he can get a fire going, forcing you to sit next to the small ring of stones he’s gathered. “There’s a copse of trees not far from here,” he explains, tilting his head to your right, though you can’t see anything through the fog, and especially not in the dark. “And I’ll be able to scrounge up enough for a fire.”

You want to ask him if he’ll be able to find his way back to you. If he thinks you’ll be safe sitting here on your own, especially after the voice from earlier. Voicing your concerns feels a bit too much like an invitation for bad luck though, and you still don't know Pyre very well. He might be helping you out of the goodness of his heart, but he's already dubbed you a bad decision. You're not sure you want to push things. “Won’t the wood be wet?” You ask instead, chafing your hands together to stir up a little bit of heat.

“No fear of shifters,” Pyre scoffs, straightening up and pulling his bag off of his back. “No screaming at strangers when you're lost in the foggy tundra, but you're worried about damp firewood?" You scowl, knowing full well he can see your expression. That surprises a rough sounding laugh out of him. "I may choose to spend my winter as a fox, but that doesn't mean I don't turn back into a man when spring comes." Pyre brandishes a small box, a tin filled with what sounds like matches. He rattles them about for emphasis. “Charmed matches are a necessity out here, not optional. Even if the wood is damp, they’ll catch well enough to last us the night.”

Charmed matches aren’t exactly common. A package of them, when used only in dire situations, should last someone a score of years at least, and as the spells to make them are some of the few guarantees of still working magic… They cost a pretty penny. “...should you be wasting them on me when I’m supposed to find the tour guides tomorrow?”

Pyre shakes the box at you, silently insisting you take it from his hand. When you take it from him, there’s more hair, more fur on his fingers than there was earlier in the day. You wonder if it’s a conscious change to help stave off the chill, or if it’s simply too close to when he shifts. “We need some way to boil a bit of water for bearberry tea, don’t we? Unless you’d rather eat them plain.” He sounds like he’s smiling, but the dark is getting more oppressive and you can’t see it. Pyre’s tone turns a little more serious, a little more apologetic as he continues: “And using them seems to keep away the voices, so yes. As I’ve taken responsibility for your safety—”

“Responsibility,” you murmur, arching a brow, but you can’t exactly disagree.

“—I’ll do exactly as I said. You’ll get to the Slavering, and I’ll even give you a match as a gift. You can make a torch as you head back and the voices should leave you be.”

You don’t shake the tin of them, knowing that they’re valuable, but you stroke your finger over the top, following the raised patterns of letters. “Will they work, even if they’re unlit?”

Pyre waits, and you don’t know whether he’s reluctant to give you an answer or he doesn’t actually know. “Are you worried about me going to grab the firewood?”

Well, it was kind of ridiculous, trying to hide your nervousness from him anyway. You’re lost in the tundra with someone you don’t know. No matter how resilient you are, it’s going to be nerve wracking. “I’ve never felt quite as strange as when I heard that voice, even with you pulling me back from it…” You stop, a frown growing on your lips. “But the voice didn’t do anything to you. You had no problem telling me not to listen to it.”

Pyre crouches, his knees popping, and groans quietly, rubbing at the patch just under his left kneecap. You can see his hands, pale fur the only spot of brightness in the night. “They don’t much affect shifters. We’re…. We’re already rather full of magic ourselves, even if it isn’t the kind one can use by uttering spells or mixing ingredients in a pot. Whatever the reason, the voices don’t seem to like magic. So a box of those matches?” He reaches out to tap on the tin with one long nail. “It should keep you from falling prey for the few moments it will take me to gather wood. I still wouldn’t get up though, then you might risk dropping it.”

You don’t know everything about the tundra, even with what research you did before you came on the trip, and the talk of magic here? It’s still something people want to study. One of the ones that came with a recorder would probably be thrilled to hear this much about the place from… Pyre might not be a year-round local, but he knows quite a bit. If he can hold off his shifting, maybe you’ll ask him to talk to one of them. “I’ll be safe,” you say, extrapolating, “as long as I stay sitting here. You’ll be able to find me again?”

“...I’ll be able to follow your scent, yes,” he admits, like he expects you to be irritated with the thought. Far, far away, another voice echoes, much fainter than the one you’d heard before. It doesn’t sound pained or panicked though, it sounds a bit like—Pyre takes your fingers, almost crushing them around the tin box in your hands. The voice vanishes. “You’ll be safe,” Pyre repeats, and a breeze whisks through the area, catching at his wild grey and white hair.

“Then get the wood,” you say, before you lose your nerve. “I’ll wait.” Pyre’s hand, still curled tightly around your fingers, eases. He brushes his thumb over the valleys between your knuckles and then pulls away.

“A few moments only. I promise,” he whispers, and then his canine-like feet are scuffing through the hard dirt and lichen covered rocks.

As soon as he’s gone, you soothe yourself by running your fingers over the tin of matches, trying to figure out what words are written along the top in fine, curling letters. There are too many loops though and when you do your best to try and focus on it, bringing it up close to your face, all you can see is that places on the tin have been worn down. Whatever it might say, the color on the tin won’t help you figure it out. It feels like only seconds, but another noise echoes in the darkness, your heart jumping back into overdrive. You clutch at the matchbox, but then Pyre is stepping out of the heavy fog, dropping a heaving armful of twisted branches and thick tangles of what looks like weeds.

“Moments, I thought you said! What was that, 30 seconds?” You ask, trying to calm your racing heart.

Pyre laughs. “I think you were just lost in thought, hm? It’s easy to lose track of time in the dark.” He kneels at the ring of rocks, cursing, even though you can’t hear any popping in his limbs this time. “Now, give me the matches and let’s get things a bit warmer, hm?”

You hand them over, and then get to work. You feel more than see Pyre’s surprise when you start picking up the branches and weeds. “I may be human, but I can help do a bit of work. It’s the last I can do after you helping me like this, what with your shifting getting close.”

“Noticed that, did you?” He asks, tin creaking as he opens and closes the lid. You glance over, but other than his pale fur, you can’t make out what he’s actually doing. A second later and he’s striking one of the charmed matches over a rough rock, and then it blazes merrily in a bit of fire smaller than a penny. “I won’t be a danger. I’m old enough to keep my wits. My… I should warn you, my breed of shifting isn’t always so pretty as others though.”

“Is that why you come out here?”

“One of many reasons,” Pyre mutters and holds the match to the wood in the fire pit. The match doesn’t burn down immediately though, or even catch the weeds when he touches it to them. Pyre deposits it carefully in the exact middle of arrangement, planting it almost like a seedling in the wood and weeds. Only after he removes his hand does the match start to spark, and then fire twists open like a blooming flower. It’s gorgeous. You lift your eyes to Pyre, awe clear in your gaze, and then you have to blink. He’s still the older man you saw this afternoon. He still has a mostly human face, but his arms look longer now, and his copper eyes flash strangely in the firelight. He glances at you, and you see that his mouth has grown wider, the edges either curling back towards his cheekbones or… Or his jaws are elongating. “Frightened?” He asks, and then you realize that you’ve been staring.

“Mildly startled,” you correct, refusing to look away. Whether he’s a pretty kind of shifter or not, you can still see him in his eyes and the way he holds himself.

He chuffs, and the noise warms something deep in your chest. “Smartass,” he says, sounding very fond. “I’ll make some of that tea now then, if you’d like it.”

“Bearberry tea,” you muse, reaching in your pocket for the rest of the berries he’d given you. Pyre unearths a small cooking pot from his bag, as well as an earthenware mug, glazed some kind of deep green. He hands you the mug and then holds out the pot, nodding his head when you lift your berry filled hand over it. It takes longer than you would like. Pyre has to mash the berries down and then he surprises you by standing and tugging at the tarp edge of your shelter. Water, mist really, beaded so heavily along the taut plastic that there’s enough to fill the pot near to overflowing. It’s much more than you would have thought, but Pyre seems unsurprised, even though you’ve both been relatively dry since he started building the fire.

“Alright,” you finally say, watching Pyre stir the faintly pink water with a metal spoon from his bag. “You mentioned bad decisions, and I’m not wise enough to leave it well alone. What are all these ‘bad decisions’ that drive you out into the tundra for an entire season? And, I can’t not clarify, were they flings?”

Pyre stares at you, eyes gleaming in the firelight, his too wide jaw falling open due to your blunt questions. When he laughs this time, it’s a sharp bark and more fox-like than human. “Oh, you are one of them. Much more perceptive than many of the others.” He licks his lips, still human-smooth, but his ears have grown longer. They’re peeking out from the sides of his head, poking through his hair now. “Some of them were flings. Some of them were just… A way to stave off loneliness, even if they were unpleasant.”

“And where am I falling on that scale?”

Pyre arches a thicker brow, baring his sharp teeth in a slightly eerie smile. “I wouldn’t be opposed to a fling with someone like you, but your companionship is more than enough if that’s all you want to give.”

You can’t help but laugh. “Then how, exactly, am I a ‘bad decision’? Making friends isn’t a bad thing, is it?”

Pyre’s smile wavers. “No, no it isn’t.” He looks away, into the middle of the fire, where the charmed match is still blazing like a seed of flame. “The bad decision is that my loneliness drives me to go looking in the first place.”

You let a few moments pass in relative silence, puzzling over his words. It sounds more than strange, but you can’t put your finger on why. “What does that mean?” You finally ask, noting the way he’s digging his nails into his thighs.

He looks back at you. “Anyone who wanders out here is an offering, of sorts. To help bear the brunt of winter. The tours… They’re more like a ritual than those guides of yours realize.”

Your head feels strangely empty. Ritual, he’d said. Slowly, you think back to the myths linked to the tundra, to the Mirrored Teeth, to the folktales attached to cities and Serpent Towers. There had been something about bearing the brunt of winter, holding it back from sweeping over the land…

“Your time here will be no more than the three days I promised. You will be taken back to the Slavering, with only this time gone from the memories of others, and I will do nothing but what I promise: to lead you back, if that is all you desire.” Pyre creeps closer, long arms and long fingers bracing himself on the dirt. All it takes is a single stretch and he’s by your side, towering over you in his half shifted form. “The bad decision was that I was given the right to choose without any warning. That I could only claim those I charmed away.”

“You charmed me?” You whisper.

“You heard my voice,” Pyre explains and your heart beats painfully in your chest. He is why people vanish from the tours and come back tired and dirty but… But most of them come back unharmed.

“What happens to those that don’t make it back?” You ask, trying to quell your panic.

Pyre’s shoulders hunch. “Sometimes people react poorly, and they run. Running in the fog is never wise.”

“How am I… How am I supposed to help you keep winter from swallowing the world?”

Pyre barks out another laugh, though he’s grimacing. “Those years I don’t have a companion, winter escapes my hold. It’s much easier to keep in check with help.”

“Helping how?” You ask, voice going brittle.

“Companionship. You’re already bound to the three days,” he says quietly, nodding his head to the pot of slow boiling bearberries on the fire. “You ate three of them. If…. If you choose to help, to spend the winter with me, then you can drink. You’ll be with me through the entire season—”

“Out in the middle of the tundra, with nothing but a tarp and an evening's supply of food?” You ask, getting to your feet. You take a step away from the fire, nervous energy making you move, and then freeze when you hear a far off voice again. You glance down at Pyre, angry and convinced it must be him, but then you recognize it. The voice, low and soft as it echoes strangely through the fog, is you.

“The voices are possibilities only,” Pyre says, talking over the needy sounding moan. It vanishes, like nothing more than smoke on a fast moving breeze. “And I would take you back to my home, I wouldn’t make you wander out here and sleep on the freezing ground!” Pyre starts to get to his feet and then thinks better of it. He stays where he is, looking up at you, holding out a hand. “If you drink, all I require is companionship. Loneliness lets the ice creep further out, but friendship, or, or anger or passion keeps it at bay. With your help I can bind the overflow of ice in the teeth. But if three days is all you’ll allow, then I’ll find another, I promise. You’ll be free of this, and you’ll forget this ever happened.”

You’re out in the middle of the tundra, wreathed in magical fog and standing before a shifter, a… a spirit? A deity? That keeps winter at bay. You did want magic, didn’t you? You ask yourself. You look down to his open hand, brown palm calloused, nails long and sharp, white fox fur growing longer along his arm.

“No one will even notice I’ve been gone?”

“You’ll be lost in the fog for three days, according to them. What life you’ve missed will feel like a blink, but no. They won’t realize you’ll have been gone for the entire winter.” Pyre’s mouth closes, stubbled throat working as he swallows.

Slowly, you sit back down, picking up the glazed green mug and holding it out for Pyre to fill. “The winter then. If we end up hating one another? You have no one to blame but yourself.”

Pyre doesn’t answer, but he watches like a predator after he fills the mug with bearberry tea, copper eyes caught on your lips. You finish half the cup, and what chill lingered in your bones slowly fades away. Carefully, Pyre takes the cup back and downs the rest, long tongue licking stray droplets off of his lips.

————-　🦊　————-

You travel with Pyre for three days before you reach the banks of the Slavering, only when you do, the tour guides aren’t waiting for you. This is where the Slavering begins, the thick snowmelt coming off of the high mountaintops and rolling down through the craggy rocks to make a river. There’s a cave entrance not far from the rapids, covered over with weeds and just large enough for Pyre to stoop over and fit into. You stop at the entrance, with him close behind you, and stare into the far off dark.

“It’s not like a dungeon in there, is it?”

Pyre grumbles, somewhere between indignation and a laugh. “You always know just what to say. No, it’s not like a dungeon. There’s plenty of modern day amenities inside. I’m a shifter, not a beast.”

Cautiously, still not entirely trusting him, you head inside. It’s dark at first, and earthy smelling, just like a cave, but then Pyre strikes another one of his charmed matches and pulls you to the side so he can lead. There’s a lamp up ahead, the frosted glass globe just big enough for Pyre to reach in and set the match. Heat and light seem to roll through the entire area, a locked, wooden door revealing itself to the side of the lamp. The cave floor, still cold and a bit damp, is actually stones, pieced together into what looks like a strange little map. You frown down at the stones, eyes tracing the edges of a single, deep blue vein, wondering why the chips of pale rock surrounding it strike you as strange.

“The Teeth,” you murmur suddenly. “You have a map of the teeth in front of your door?” Some of the spots are much smaller than others, more like a pinprick of pale stone as opposed to some of the hefty chips. If you unfocus your eyes, the map looks like a reflection of the stars.

“Magic,” Pyre explains, though he doesn’t sound pleased with his own answer. “There’s plenty to talk about when it comes to the Teeth, and the voices, just… Let’s go inside. It’s going to start snowing soon.”

When he opens the door, all the lamps inside are lit. Much like Pyre himself, his decor is frayed and worn down. There are heavy furs on the walls, and tapestries too, both simple and grand, but fragile looking. There are furs on some of the furniture as well. There’s a large stone fireplace, with hooks over the mantle made of horn and a set of stone stairs that curve out of sight. There’s no sign of things like phones or televisions, but you feel like you should have expected that. Companionship through a screen probably didn't fulfill the parameters of his… his curse?

That’s something you decide to ask about later. After all, you have the rest of the winter to spend with him, and he explained plenty over the three day trip to the mountain. The teeth are made of contained winter. The larger the teeth are, the more someone helped Pyre through that season. Through friendship, or anger, or passion, they melted the ice and snow. Pyre would take the melt and bind it in magic-made spires, but he couldn’t build on only one. Each spire was the product of a different person, each fling or friend made or fight had melted the snow at different rates. If your help has already begun, then you know some of the snow must have melted already due to your anger over the past few days, but it’s not something you think you can hold onto. Pyre tricked you into the three days, gave you the bearberries and bid you eat if you were hungry. You’d eaten three of them. The rest of the winter though? That you chose yourself. At least for a while, you’re ready to try and enjoy a little bit of the magic, keeping back winter or no.

“It’s not quite past midday,” Pyre says quietly, voice a strange melding of fox and man. “If you’d like food, I will make it for you. If you’d like a rest, I’ll show you to your room.”

“My room?” You ask, only sounding mildly sarcastic.

Pyre narrows those coppery eyes of his. “Sometimes I think you say these things on purpose. Yes. Your room.” He heads for the staircase, his toenails clicking on the stone floor before he reaches the layers of rugs, the soft padding of his feet on them makes you smile. “I would hardly complain if you decided to join me in mine, but even so, you will have your own space.” He tosses his head, earrings catching in his hair and then vanishes up the stairs.

You move at a much more sedate pace, still examining your surroundings. There’s a very old looking table, covered with the remnants of a puzzle that looks to be from forty years ago at least. There’s a rack of old bottles, some of them look like wine, but others are clearly beer, and still others look like glass bottles of soda, the liquid half evaporated. Pyre’s house is going to be a treasure trove of history, of things left behind by others. The winter is going to be very long, you’re certain, but it won’t be forever. All of the people that left these things behind have obviously left and returned to their homes. You turn on your heel, slip your bag off of your shoulders and leave it at the foot of the stairs. You can come back for it later.

The lamps, all seemingly lit from that single charmed match, spiral up the staircase. There aren’t any doors that open up off the sides, only a hallway at the very top and three open doors leading to the far end. The first one you pass is a bathroom, with a large tub carved out of the stone of the mountain. There are elderly looking cupboards in there, and what looks like a wood burning stove, though it’s empty. The toilet, you assume, is behind the drawscreen, and when you peek your head farther in, there’s also a shining, copper mirror hanging on the wall. The second room is where Pyre is, hands fussing over the thick curtains around the bed. There’s a fireplace against the wall, and a nightstand next to the bed, and more furs draped over a chair made of wood and horn in the corner. There’s a worn desk, obviously hand-made by someone unskilled, but a beautiful bookcase next to it, filled with books in various states of wear. Some of the spines are cracked, but others still are pristine. To the right of the bed, there’s a single paned window. Snow is coating the sill outside, thick flurries weighing down the weeds that are growing in the cracked stone.

Despite the magic, despite the voices and his promise, it still hadn’t felt quite so real, wandering through the tundra with him. He’d said the snow would be coming down soon though.

“It’s lovely,” you answer, honestly, even if not everything is to your taste. It almost makes you want to laugh though, because it definitely looks like it’s somewhere removed from the normal world, some kind of strange mish-mash of time periods all pressed into a two story place. You wonder, without Pyre, would anyone ever find this place?

“Parts of it,” Pyre says, strange looking hands pausing in their tying of the curtains. He’s looking at the headboard, you realize. There’s a faint gouge in the dark wood, but it doesn’t look like it was from Pyre. It looks like a very human scratch. Warmth crawls over the back of your neck, though you’re not sure whether it’s embarrassment or eagerness. You’d been feeling a healthy dose of attraction with Pyre before he told you about everything, and it had taken a bit to sort through your feelings on the matter, even with you making the final choice to come here. You still don’t know how things will continue, but for now…

“Let me see what I can do to help make a few more lovely memories then,” you say suddenly. Heat is pulsing through you now, warming your cheeks and the tips of your ears and zinging down along your spine. Pyre’s head snaps to the side to find your hands working slowly at your clothes. He doesn’t move any further, doesn’t even tip back his head, just stares at you over the crest of his shoulder, pupils swallowing down the copper of his irises.

“If—you don’t have to do anything,” he insists, and his tail swishes, slowly, just the once. It doesn’t bristle out as it had when you’d first spotted him.

Your coat drops to the floor, and his eyes follow it. “I know. We were flirting though, before you told me about all of this, and I still…” You glance away, only for your eyes to snap back to Pyre as he drags his patched suit jacket off of his shoulders.

He slows when he realizes you’re watching, but doesn’t stop. A slow grin pulls at the corners of his wide mouth. “You still want to feel magic?” He taunts, and laughs when you roll your eyes. He stops laughing when the rest of your clothes hit the floor, the hint of a whine escaping him when you take a step closer, shivering when you feel the temperature of the stone on your bare feet. “My room,” Pyre says roughly, though you can’t tear your eyes away from him. He’s still a wonderfully strange mix of man and fox. His face is still humanoid, with lips and stubbled cheeks, and so is the shape of his shoulders through his holey t-shirt. There’s soft curls of hair peeking out of the stretched neck of his shirt, but along the backs of his arms it looks more like fur and his feet are still wholly canine. His tails, tails plural, are starting to grow longer too, and you recall the way he’d seemed to coalesce into one person when the fog had rolled back.

Pyre crosses the room, hesitating before he places his hands on your shoulders, thumbnails scratching gently at your bare skin. The chill of the room had been seeping into you, but at his touch, warmth chases it all away. When you slide your hands up his chest, Pyre’s eyes fall closed, gray lashes bright against his skin. “M’ room,” he repeats again, but pulls you into a kiss as he tows you out the door. There’s no more time for examining the hallway or the knick-knacks he might be keeping in his own space. There’s his lips and his stubble scratching at your skin and his hands splayed over the back of your neck and the base of your spine. He coaxes you into his room with deep, slow kisses that leave your head spinning, whispering things that make your pulse speed. “Want, want the smell of you on my sheets,” he says against your neck, dragging sharp teeth carefully over your throat. He growls when your hands dip to undo his trousers, your thumb following the trail of hair that vanishes beneath his underwear. “If this is, if it’s—”

“I agreed to the winter,” you remind him and then he’s turning you and letting you fall back onto his bed. You have a moment to register soft fur, and crocheted blankets, and comforters too, before Pyre is pulling his shirt off and tossing it across the room. He wrestles with the rest of his clothes, leaving you another moment to admire him. The hair on his chest and trailing down his abdomen looks human, much coarser than the fur on his arms and below his knees. Between his legs is a thick cock, hard and beginning to leak, with a small bulge near the base of him, and then your gaze is drawn back up as he crawls onto the bed, moving much slower than he had in the hall. He doesn’t press, doesn’t rush, just leans his body over yours to kiss you again, careful with his teeth. He groans when you reach up and tug at his braid, pulling the rough tie away and tossing it to the side. You comb your fingers through his hair, tangling your fingers in it to keep him kissing you and tense when his cock slides over your thigh, hot and hard and enough to make you buck up, already seeking friction. Pyre kisses you until you’re breathless, leaving you sucking at your own lips and trying to calm yourself as he urges you further up the bed, back to a veritable nest of pillows.

He isn’t slow when he settles himself between your legs, hands curling around your thighs and pushing them carefully back towards your chest. He isn’t slow when he drags his tongue over you, hot and slick and slightly rough. He’s careful as he can be with his teeth, but there are a few pinches that make you gasp and tremble. He laves his tongue over them, soothing the sting, but his nails are pressing hard into your skin and you’re fairly certain you’re going to bruise, simply from the continued pressure. Pyre is noisy too, whining and groaning as he tastes you, as you do your best to rock yourself against his tongue, hand tugging at his hair while he sucks and eats. The ache of orgasm, painful-but-sweet, is starting to build, starting to make you tense everytime he opens his jaw, teeth dragging over tender skin, leaving you wet and shuddering. He huffs when you whimper, and pulls away before you can come, copper eyes as bright as flame when he moves to sit back against his headboard. The loss of him feels sudden, and the cold is sharp without his warmth against you.

“That was on purpose,” you murmur. Pyre arches a brow, trying to keep from smiling when you scowl at his crooking finger. You still get up, on shaking knees and gasp when he tugs you over and onto his lap, your back against his chest, cock slick and sticky against your ass.

“I want to feel everything when you shake apart,” he murmurs, hand splaying over your sternum as he helps you arrange your legs. By the time you’re straddling his thighs, his fingertips are dipping into the hollow of your throat and his cock is rutting against your thigh and every part of you is on edge, desperate for more. You’d been so close. Pyre licks at the side of your throat, pressing his hand harder against your chest to keep your back still. “Lift your hips,” he urges, and takes his cock in hand, dragging the head over you as you do your best to listen. Like fitting a key into a lock, Pyre finds the correct angle, breathing raggedly as you press yourself down. As soon as you’ve taken enough of him, he lets go of himself and then presses on the top of your thighs, making you gasp out his name as you take him in deeper. He eases off after a moment, letting you adjust, letting you wriggle and groans out your name roughly as you do your best to ride him.

You think for a moment about saying something, about teasing him or trying to rile him up, but it’s all you can do to keep up what rhythm you have, heart beating terribly fast against the hand he has on your chest. He lets you move, lets you reach back and clutch at the messy locks of his hair, his breath warm against your throat and the top of your shoulder and then Pyre pushes roughly against your thigh again, thrusting up until his knot is grinding against you. “Fuck, fuck, Pyre, that—”

“Too much?” He asks, waiting while you shake, trying to steady your breath. You’re probably going to ache later, probably won’t want to do much but doze or take a bath in that massive stone tub, but right now? Right now you want to be greedy.

“More,” you get out and Pyre laughs, that eerie, fox-like noise echoing in your ear as he teases you with the knot, pressing you down and then pulling back his hips. Pillows cascade off the edges of the bed, spilling over the floor. You start squeezing, doing your best to drive him over the edge, so sensitive it almost hurts. “Please,” you whisper and then you’re too busy for speech. His knot stretches you and his hand dips between your thighs, stroking and his fingers press into the base of your throat. He’s not choking you, but he’s starting to squeeze and then you’re coming. Pleasure washes over you in a fierce, pulsing ache that shoots down to your toes and fountains back up your body. You shout out his name and shake in his arms, eyes falling closed as his knot expands, locking you in place. Your eyes flutter open and closed and drift to a steamed up window, much like the one in your own room. Weeds are still poking up through the cracks, but now it’s not snowing outside, it’s raining.

Pyre turns his nose to the space behind your ear, breathing deep, his own limbs growing loose. “The winter might well be softer this year,” Pyre mumbles, voice raspy, his hand smoothing down your sternum and over your hips. “And I have you to thank for that.”

“We still have the rest of the winter ahead of us,” you remind him, but you’re too sleepy to argue with him any further. Whether you end up enjoying the rest of your time here, you do know one thing: Passion will definitely be a huge part of fulfilling your bargain for the winter.

————-　🦊　————-

#exophilia #werefox boyfriend #male werefox #shifter boyfriend #d.darling writes #d.darling queues

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antebunny · 4 years ago

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Continuation of this based on the Maleficent AU over on @angstymdzsthoughts because I write trash when my life is going terribly.

All his life, Lan Wangji has heard more about his mother than he has actually seen his mother. He and Lan Xichen were taken to see her as many times as they could, but more often than not, it wasn’t safe to be around her. But Lan Wangji heard the other Lans talking about her, sometimes.

“How sad,” the elders would say. “The first not to accept the Grounding.”

On the good days, Lan Wangji’s mother would let him sit on her lap as she combed first Lan Huan’s, and then Lan Wangji’s hair. She would ask about their day, and invariably something Lan Wangji said would make her laugh. But with the good days came the bad days, when Mother flew into a terrible rage and could not be approached by anyone, not even Father, and Father was her fated one. On the bad days, Mother had to be left alone in her house until she calmed down, and no one ever let Lan Wangji go near.

“It’s because of the wings,” Lan Wangji is told. The wings that his mother once had, back when she was a heavenly spirit, the wings that make her want to leave.

“Such a tragic tale,” some of the elders say, shaking their heads. “Such a tragic love the main Lan family faces, generation after generation.”

Mother is never able to accept the binding, and no one knows why. Father performed it correctly, to this everyone swears up and down. Qingheng-jun has always been the pride of Gusu, but he grows increasingly more and more frantic during Lan Wangji’s sixth year, the year that Mother gets sick. Soon, the whole world knows that Madame Lan has a seemingly incurable disease. Before Lan Wangji turns seven, his mother dies. He knows because he never sees his father after that either. He’ll later learn that Father, unable to accept both the loss of his fated one and his own failure, retreated from the world, leaving his sect duties and his children to his younger brother.

“It is the destiny of one of you to find your fated partner in a heavenly being,” Uncle explains to Lan Wangji and Lan Xichen, but he doesn’t say it with the same pride and finality that he explains the other rules of the Lans.

Lan Wangji grows up. And though he’ll never admit it, Lan Wangji privately hopes that this destiny is not his to bear. It’s terribly unfair for both the sect duties and the Grounding to fall to Lan Wangji, and consciously he hopes that his older brother does not have to bear both burdens. But privately, somewhere buried deep where Lan Wangji cannot find it or examine it too closely, he hopes fervently that it is not him.

Then he meets a boy with black wings underneath the moon of the Gusu mountains, and his entire world changes.

Wei Wuxian laughs, and Lan Wangji has never heard anything like it before. His great black wings unfurl like ink from a brush, and they effortlessly lift his feet off the roof.

“I’m technically not in the Cloud Recesses,” he points out, silver eyes sparkling with mirth.

Lan Wangji can feel his ears turn a violent shade of red. He withdraws his sword, then, but a single flap of Wei Wuxian’s wings carries him above Lan Wangji’s head. And even then, in the exhilaration and frustration of their first meeting, Lan Wangji hates those wings for taking Wei Wuxian out of his reach. They’re beautiful, his massive crow wings. Each feather is a soft black that shines purple under the right light. Lan Wangji wants to touch them and see if they’re as soft as they look, but he doesn’t dare.

Wei Ying is magnificent, and Lan Wangji can only despair.

His brother is the first one to notice.

“Wangji,” he says, one day when he finds Lan Wangji with two bunnies and no explanation. “I’ve noticed that you seem to be spending a lot of time with the crow spirit, Wei Wuxian.”

Not by choice, Lan Wangji wants to say, but he knows it isn’t true, and lying is forbidden. But he doesn’t know what the truth is. He’s unsure, because Wei Ying is unsure. Wei Ying teases, Wei Ying smiles at him so sincerely and says not as pretty as Lan Zhan only to finish with I’m only joking, Lan Zhan! What if it’s not Wei Ying? What if Lan Wangji gets it wrong?

So instead, he says nothing.

His uncle is the second person to notice.

He’s frowning and stroking his beard after the day’s lectures have finished, and he stop Lan Wangji to talk after the other students have all left. “Yunmeng’s Head Disciple, and Sect Leader Jiang’s adopted son,” he muses out loud. “His…rambunctious personality makes me cautious, but he is one of the best cultivators of your generation. I am confident that he will recover from the Grounding.”

Lan Wangji tries to picture Wei Ying’s loud personality being confined to a single room for any period of time.

“Wangji,” his uncle says, when he notices Lan Wangji clenching his fists. The word is at once filled with pride, a warning, and gentler reassurance. “What happened to your mother was a tragedy,” he says, echoing the words of countless elders. “It has never happened before. There is no reason why it should happen again.”

There is no reason why it wouldn’t, Lan Wangji thinks. Still, it hardly matters, in the face of generations of tradition, in the face of his own destiny. There is no denying it: he loves Wei Ying. His next course of action is to perform the Grounding, before Wei Ying returns to Lotus Pier. His uncle expects him to. The elders all expect him to. Even his brother doesn’t understand his hesitation. And yet–

“Lan Zhan,” Wei Ying says. “Come flying with me!”

When Wei Ying takes him flying, he takes him higher than Lan Zhan has ever gone by sword. Together, they soar over the misty mountain tops of Gusu, past pine forests and heavy clouds. Wei Ying is an single black spot in the blue heavens, but he dwarfs the entire sky, and Lan Wangji, in a place he doesn’t stop to think about, has never lived more in a day.

“Wei Ying,” he says at the end, when Wei Ying sets him gently back on the ground. His tongue is lead in his mouth. He knows what he should say–he should ask Wei Ying to take him to the cave in the back of the mountains, and there, where the wings have no power, he should perform the Grounding. But Lan Wangji looks at Wei Ying, framed by his crow wings in the green fields of Gusu, and all he can think is: Wei Ying loves his wings.

Which is why all that comes out of his mouth is: “Will you marry me?”

“Wangji,” Uncle says, and now his name is simply a warning. “You are doing this wrong.”

Lan Wangji bows his head low over the table he is seated by.

“I have left the Grounding to your own prerogatives,” Uncle begins to lecture, further angered by his silence. “I have raised you to be obedient and righteous, but if I must perform the Grounding for you, then I will.”

“No,” Lan Wangji blurts, and his uncle raises an eyebrow. Somehow, he knows that is wrong. His hands are clammy in his lap. “No,” he repeats, in a tone expected from him. “I will perform it. Tomorrow morning.”

“See that you do,” Uncle says. A dismissal.

He almost doesn’t.

Wei Ying is sprawled by his side, fast asleep, but his wings are wrapped around Lan Wangji when he wakes up. He rolls Wei Ying over slowly, carefully pulling his hair away from his back. Lightly, he runs his hands over the wings one last time, wings that were softer than he thought they’d be, and then he withdraws Bichen. His grip hasn’t trembled on his sword in years, but it does now.

In the end, it is very simple: Wei Ying loves his wings, but Wei Ying loves him. Surely that is enough. It has been enough for countless generations of Lans.

In the end, it is too simple. Lan Wangji flicks his wrist, and Bichen tears through Wei Ying’s beautiful wings. Wei Ying does not stir. He sheathes his sword and collects the wings reverently. He steps out of the room, long enough to leave the wings on the table, and returns to a devastating surprise:

Wei Ying is gone.

Naturally, the first person Lan Wangji goes to is Lan Xichen, and together they head to the Jiang disciple quarters. Lan Wangji is distressed the whole way, thinking of a Wei Ying who woke up alone, in the dark, missing his wings. He was supposed to be there to explain it to Wei Ying. He was supposed to be there for him.

But Wei Ying isn’t in the Jiang disciple quarters. None of the Jiang siblings are. The other Jiang disciples are still asleep, but when Lan Wangji makes an exception and wakes them up, they have no idea what’s going on. Lan Wangji and Lan Xichen split up, but no one Lan Wangji talks to has seen Wei Ying or the Jiang siblings. And when Lan Wangji and Lan Xichen circle back around to the quarters of the first Jiang disciples they talked to, they’re gone.

By the time the sunrise fades into yet another bright day, all of the disciples from Yunmeng Jiang are gone. None of the other guest disciples have seen them, not even the ones awake at that time. It is as if they simply all vanished back up to the heavens without a word, without a single warning.

And Lan Wangji is left reeling in their wake, stunned at the thought that somehow Wei Ying’s Grounding has gone even worse than his mother’s.

#mdzs #the untamed #mo dao zu shi #wei wuxian #lan wangji #my writing #writeblr #look im tired #angstymdzsthoughts #antebunny's ficlets

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icouldntfinditsoiwroteit · 4 years ago

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What if the clones changed places with diferent battalions because of The Force shenanigans for one week?

501:

Rex: He gets sent to the 187th battalion of Mace Windu, he proceeds to have almos two heart attacks per day with Hardcase causing his usual caos, when he is not trying to prevent Harcase from painting Mace Windu’s robes blue he is chating with Ponds and taking any moment to try a recover their lost time and of course bitch about their Generals (I headcanon that Mace is just as much of a disasters as other Jedis, the diference is that he can hide it.)

Dogma: He gets sent to the Wolfpack battalion of Plo Koon, Dogma is almost shocked to death by how Plo Koon treats him and the other clones that where sent to his battalion, Plo Koon helps him understand that following orders without thinking about them is not the best thing to do, he surprisingly gets along with Comet and alongside with the CG commanders is babied and almost adopted by Plo Koon, when he learned about what the CG go trough he finally learned that people need to earn your loyallty and has sworn to do anything to help his brothers, no matter where they are from.

Tup: He gets sent to the Coruscant Guard, Tup sticks t Fives even more than before since they are in a unkown place for him, he also tries to keep Fives from causing any more trouble and animosity between the CG and the 501th battalion than there already is, being court martialed because of painting Commander Cody’s armor pink, and of course half of the CG want to keep him when they see the cinamon roll that he is and how tired he ends because of Fives.

Fives: He gets sent to the Coruscant Guard, he is constantly stoped by Tup from doing almost anything fun, he gets along with Hound like there is no tomorrow, probably since Grizzer loves Fives and Fives isn’t scared of him, whne Fives is with Tup he has to basically prevent him form being kidnaped by half of the CG. “He Tup where are you going? Oh, I’m going to see what Spot wanted to show me earlier today.(Fives notices the badly hidden ropes of Spot) No your not(Fives picks Tup like a sack of potaoes) Fives what the kriff!, Tup is MY VOD and you can’t keep him!!!(Fives yells while being chased by Spot and other troopers)”

Echo: He gets sent to the 212th battalion of Obi Wan Kenobi, Echo isn’t that out of it in the 212th battalion since he and Fives where deployed with them a few times already, but he is going to lose it if he has to prevent someone being murdered by Sinker because they mocked his battallions name one more time or howled when he walked in. He has also learned that no matter where he goes a brother will take Five’s place and in this case Thorn is that brother.

Hardcase: He gets sent to the 187th battalion of Mace Windu, Hardcase decides to see how fast he can cause Rex to grow grey hairs and Ponds is a plus, especially since this is Mace Windu’s battalion, although poor Rex and Ponds have no idea that Mace is on it. “Hey Hardcase, whats that you’ve got?(Rex asks seing the suspicious bag Hardcase is carying) Coffe grains!!(Hardcase answeres befoere runnig of while munching some of them) Nooo!!!(Rex remembering what happened last time Hardcase had one caf runs after him, willing to stun him and ignoring the rest of the men in the room laughing.) (In the mean time Mace is hiding his amused laugh after he gave Harcase the coffe grains.)”

212:

Cody: He gets sent to the Coruscant Guard, Cody takes the time he has and sleeps like he has never slept before, at the start he helped Fives to keep the CG from stealing Tup, since he knows how it feels that the CG is trying to steal one of his shiny vod, after Fives tried to paint his armor pink, he stoped and decided to enjoy Five’s suffering.

Longshot: He gets sent to the 501th battalion of Anakin Skywalker, Longshot and Jesse are Kix’s new nightmare, since they also decided that making Wolfee’s comn to howl like a wolf.

Boil: He gets sen to the Wolfpack battalion of Plo Koon, Boil wonders if the universe entertaines itself with his suffering, because from all the vod he had to love it had to be Waxer and from all the existing battalions they could magically apear on it was Plo “I adopt any living creature that barely breathes in my direction” Koon, although he isn’t as against at the idea of finding Numa as he says he is, and Waxer knows it. He was one of the troopers that helpes Stone in making Fox rest, it’s the least he can do after he learned what they go trough.

Waxer: He gets sen to the Wolfpack battalion of Plo Koon, Waxer and Plo get along to a scary level, multiple troopers have to restrain him phisically and distracting Plo long enough that they can’t go in a journey across the galaxy in search for Numa. He also discovered what the CG go trough and felt ashamed of what he thought of hi brothers before, he alongside Boil have decided to spread this information, to at least make sure that their brothers have more support.

104 Wolfpack:

Wolfee: He gets sent to the 501th battalion of Anakin Skywalker, Wolfee thanks the universe for assigning him to General Plo “Coff Coff Buir”, instead of the walking disaster that Skywalker is and at the same time begs the universe for patience in order to prevent himself from murdering any other Vod that makes his comn howl or any joke about wolf in his presence, even if it’s Commander Ashoka or how General Buir calls her “Little Soka”.

Boost: He gets sent to the 187th battalion of Mace Windu, Boost is having the time of his life alongside Waxer and to his shock General Windu, by giving early grey hair to Captain Rex and Commander Ponds, this may seem cruel to some and even to him at the start, but when he learned that General Windu was doing this in order to boost the rest of his men morale after a really hard capaing he was sold, besides some humor never hurt anyone, right?

Sinker: He gets sent to the 212th battalion of Obi Wan Kenobi, General Kenobi is not a bad Jedi and by all means he thinks he enjoys the chats he has with the Jedi but may the universe have mercy on the next fool who makes a joke about his battalion’s name or howls while he enters the room, he doesn’t care about the consequences and fortunately Echo has prevented a lot of bloodshed caused by his hands, he hopes that when he’s back with the Wolfpack the ARC gets deployed with them more often, he likes him.

Coruscant Guard:

Fox: He gets sen to the Wolfpack battalion of Plo Koon, Fox apreciates the Jedi, since he ans his men don’t have on he had no idea what to expect and lets say that Skywalker didn’t give him high expectations and since he can’t do his paperwork he was cuddled to death by stone and by a few other brothers that learned of how they are treated in Coruscant. Plo has to be stoped by the Wolfpack who fake injuries in order to prevent the Jedi from storming the Senate, when he found out of how the CG are treated one didn’t need the force in order to feel the bloodlust in the man, and even if the Wolfpack shared this feeling they can’t let their Jedi be acused of treason..

Stone: He gets sen to the Wolfpack battalion of Plo Koon, he is thankfull to any force in the universe for giving him this time to finally force Fox to sleep, since Thorn isn’t here it’s his duty to care for the di’kut he calls a vod and commander. He didn’t cry when the Wolfpack as a whole decided that the CG needed help, he really didn’t, it was just a bit of dirt in his eyes, but having brothers outside of the CG watching his back is conforting, and Fox won’t admit it but they have a soft spot for Dogma.

Thorn: He gets sent to the 212th battalion of Obi Wan Kenobi, he want’s to help Sinker with a bunch of his plans to make the 212th suffer except for Wooley, Wooley is nice, fortunately for the 212th Echo stops Sinker most of the time and the poor ARC looks so tired of it, so Thorn has decided to help him around, he remember one time Fox talked about the time he worked with the ARC and another one named Fives, Fox saud that Thorn where painfully similar and may or may not have admited to have liked working with him, “but you didn’t hear that form him alright Echo? Echo? Wait you recorded it, no stop Fox will murder me!! (Proceeds to run after a cackling Echo)”.

Thire: He gets sent to the 501th battalion of Anakin Skywalker, he is not surprised at all when he see’s the daily disasters that happen on Torrent, and even if Commander Tano and General Skywalker are fun to be around, he can see where the battalion got the recklesnes from and he will feel no regret when Rex comes back and he is back on coruscant.

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ur-favorite-queer-queen · 4 years ago

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Protect

For Maribat March day 18 theme protect

Master List

“DEAREST BIG BROTHER! I’M HOME!” A female shout came from the foyer of the manor.

Dick, Jason, Tim, Babs, Steph, and Cass were hanging out in one of the many rooms the manor held. Alfred had just walked in with a tray of drinks but froze at the sound of the voice.

“THE HECK!” Was shouted by the same voice followed by Damian’s voice shouting,

“WHO ARE YOU!?!?! HOW DID YOU GET IN!?!?!”

Alfred was out of the room in an instant. He was not sprinting but he might as well be with how fast he was walking. The batkids immediately followed after him.

They walked in on a sight none of them will ever forget. Literally, Jason had taken a picture. A strange woman who looked like a female, miniature version of Bruce had Damian’s precious katana and seemed to be taunting him with it.

“Miss Marinette!” Alfred called and got both the woman’s and Damian’s attention.

“Alfred!” The woman replied, running over and giving him a hug, katana still in her hand.

“Wait, Aunt Nettie?” Dick spoke up, walking over to the pair.

“Little Wing! Wow, you got so much bigger since the last time I saw you.” She responded, giving him a hug.

“Wait, wait, your Aunt Nettie?” Jason asked, crossing his arms.

“Aww, Little Blue Jay, you don’t remember me?” She shot back, crossing her arms as well.

“Blue Jay, why is that familiar?” Jason muttered to himself, not quietly enough since everyone heard him.

“Aunt Nettie, you only visited once when he was here.” Dick reminded her.

“Oh, well that will explain that. Also how many more kids did Bruce adopt? I thought it was only the 2 of you, the Drake kid, and his bio kid.” She questioned, motioning to each child she remembered.

“The only other kid he adopted is Cass, Steph and Babs are family friends.” Dick clarified.

“Babs, the first Batgirl correct?” She asked, turning to the girl in question. Everyone froze at that, this girl who was apparently Bruce’s sister knew who they were.

“It’s fine guys, she’s known since the beginning of his time as Batman.” Dick assured.

“Yep, speaking of my big brother, where is he?”

“Master Bruce is currently at a WE meeting, but he will be back in time for dinner.” Alfred answered for her.

“How come father never told us about you?” Damian voiced, glaring at her and looking like he wanted to attack her again. Probably because she still had his katana.

“I rarely visit nowadays and he’s probably still upset after last time.” Marinette smirked, like she had won some sort of battle. Noticing she still had his katana, she handed the blade back to Damian.

“Last time?” Tim hesitantly echoed.

“How about Miss Marinette shares the story in the living room? I can bring snacks.” Alfred offered, Marinette looked like she was about to say something but Alfred beat her to it, “You bond with your nieces and nephews, I will be fine.”

“Come on Marinette! You can tell them about how you helped train Bruce! Oh did you bring any kwamis with you?” Dick rambled, pulling Marinette with him into the room they were hanging out in before her appearance.

Once they were all seated Tim started the conversation, “So I’m not hallucinating, you are actually Bruce’s sister.”

“Yes, Bruce is 3 years older than me. I know that he is Batman and you guys are the bats and the birds.” She calmly responded.

“What did Dick mean by you helped train Bruce? And what is a Kwami?” Babs continued.

“Kwami are basically magical beings, kinda like gods, that are bound to jewels called miraculous. Since I’m the guardian I protect these jewels. I trained Bruce by helping my old mentor from Tibet train him.” Marinette explained.

“What happened last time? And why don’t you visit often?” Damian asked, carefully hidden curiosity in his eyes.

“Back in my first year of highschool, Bruce was very protective of me. Like very protective. No boy he didn’t approve of, which meant I could never talk to a single boy, could get within 10 feet of me without him present. Asking me out, out of the question. Pretty sure this one guy, Adam, wanted to ask me out but Bruce interrupted before he could. I never talked to him again after that. I got pretty tired of it so I signed up for the foreign exchange program and went to school in Paris.”

“Wait,” Steph interrupted, “Bruce was an overprotective brother?”

“One of the worst kinds. I’m sure if our parents were still alive he might’ve been worse than my dad.”

“What importance does this have to the questions?” Damian sneered, annoyed that he wasn’t getting any answers.

“Hold on I’m getting there. So anyways it was in my sophomore year of highschool at Paris that a supervillain attacked. He called himself Hawkmoth, he used the butterfly miraculous to transform people into his puppets by using their emotions against them. I didn’t think much of it since it didn’t concern me, my host family agreed thinking it wouldn’t last long. But when I got to my room there was a little box sitting on my desk and that’s where I found the ladybug miraculous. The most powerful miraculous besides the cat miraculous. I told Bruce, he wasn’t too happy about it, but there wasn’t much he could do. So much happened in that amount of time that I don’t think I could summarize it all before Bruce gets back but just know that in that span of time I met the current guardian. Hawkmoth gained an ally who used the peacock miraculous, Mayura. Also a miraculous that could manipulate emotions.

After I and my partner had defeated Hawkmoth and Mayura, sometime during my senior year, we revealed our identities, dated for a few months before I ended things. Then I went back home and Bruce was getting ready to go on his soul-searching journey to be trained by masters or whatever and I suggested he be trained by my mentor who was in Tibet. I went with him, we trained for a couple of months before he left. I decided to stay in Tibet to train to become the next guardian. Eventually my mentor died and gave me guardianship.

Then I returned to Gotham and Bruce had adopted Little Wing over there. So I stayed here for a while before I decided to go around the world doing guardian things. Bruce didn’t like the idea but there wasn’t much he could do. I ended up catching up with an old friend of mine on one of my travels and we started dating before I came back here. That’s when I met Little Blue Jay for the first and last time.

Before you guys had gone on patrol I tried to ask Bruce to give my boyfriend a chance but he didn’t agree. I’ve always been his little sister in his eyes, I think he couldn’t handle the fact I had grown up. Nasty words were exchanged between us and I haven’t returned since. In the end me and him didn’t work out but I couldn’t bring myself to return, until now at least.”

“Why now?” Damian immediately pressed once she finished her explanation.

“Dusuu was missing Alfred. It has been like a decade or something.” She remarked, pulling out a peacock shaped brooch.

“Didn’t you say that the peacock miraculous was evil?” Cass signed, raising an eyebrow at the brooch.

“No, I said it was used for evil. The miraculous are technically neutral, can be used for good or evil. Depends on who is wielding them.” Marinette bit back, as a flash of light emitted from the brooch. Suddenly a small floating peacock creature stood in front of Marinette.

“Is that a kwami?” Steph asked.

“Yes, this is Dusuu, the peacock kwami of emotions.”

“Hello! It’s so nice to meet you!” Dusuu chirped, “Where’s Alfred?”

“I am right here Dusuu. It is lovely to see you again.” Alfred spoke from the doorway, holding a tray of snacks and drinks.

“Alfred!” Dusuu cheered before flying over and hugging the older man.

“In all honesty Bruce doesn’t sound like the best brother.” Jason pointed out.

“I know it may seem like he’s a shitty brother, and at the time I totally thought he was and still is, but I know where he’s coming from. Bruce was always the more reserved and protective out of the 2 of us even before what happened to our parents. I think our parents' death solidified his need to protect me from anything and anyone. And we all know how horrible Bruce is at showing his emotions so I know his heart was in the right place. Plus, we’ve had years to cool off, I’m sure we can have a mature conversation now.” Marinette explained, a fond smile gracing her lips.

Faintly in the distance they heard Alfred say, “Welcome home, Master Bruce.”

“That’s my cue!” Marinette said before bolting off in the direction of the foyer.

“Alfred something’s off, what are you not telling me?” The second those words left his mouth a weight connected with his back, arms wrapped around his neck and a familiar,

“HEY BIG BRO!” Was registered by his ears.

The weight slipped off his back and as he turned around he was met with the familiar sight of his little sister. “Marinette.”

“Bruce.”

“You’re here.”

“I am.”

“I thought-”

“That I was mad at you.”

“You didn’t visit for 10 years.”

“Life got busy.”

They stood in silence for a minute.

“I missed you.” Marinette whispered, so much different from the girl that was telling them a brief summary of her life. She seemed so much more vulnerable uttering those words than when she had revealed why she hadn’t come back in the first place.

Turns out that was the straw that broke the camel’s back as Bruce wrapped Marinette in a hug as tears slipped from his eyes. They could hear him whispering over and over again, “I’m sorry. I’m sorry for what I did all those years ago.”

It was weird for them all to see, including Dick who knew how much Marinette meant to Bruce. Bruce kept his emotions so closed up, master of the stoic face, but here he was breaking down in front of the all. Here he was crying and apologizing.

“I believe we should leave them alone for now.” Alfred spoke up heading for the dining room. They followed. Later Bruce and Marinette would join them, a little red-eyed with their cheeks tear-stained, but small smiles on their faces.

It was then that all the batkids knew that they would be seeing this ‘Aunt Nettie’ much more often.

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

Look at that, I’m super late again! Nothing new, I think day 14 was a one time thing unfortunately.

I’ve seen a ton of fics where Marinette was Bruce’s older sister but what about where she’s his younger sister? Bruce would so be an overprotective older brother.

I hoped you enjoyed this! I’m planning on making a part 2 of this for ‘contest’. So stay tuned!

@maribatmarch-2k21

#maribatmarch2021 #maribat #maribat march #protect #little sister marinette #big brother bruce #part 2 will be contest

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bokunosoul · 4 years ago

Note

overhaul with a sibling who's a lot like yushiro from demon slayer? how would he react if they were attending ua behind his back? love that there's another demon slayer fan!

Overhaul reacts to brother reader that is like Yushiro from Demon slayer attending UA behind his back

TW : Human trafficking, mentions of blood

So lets set this scene, you are basically Overhaul's brother and you lived under his control you also have no freedom and has no idea what is the outside world is like.

One time you disobeyed you ended up being on the surgerical bed and all day long and he tortured you almost to d̶e̶a̶t̶h̶ he also injected a couple of illegal medicines on you.

You and eri are also in the same boat.He conducted many researches and experiments on both of your bodies and sells the drugs that he made on both of you in the black market.

You are also Eri's caretaker since the day she was brought in the yakuza - mansion.Yoy the one she can rely on the even in hardest times even though when she can't express her feelings well.

You actually also dont know about you and Eri's quirk that much.But your "so called" brother said that it is powerful and they both needed you on his league.

Days, weeks, months passed you had enough and decided to take along Eri with you to escape.You conducted a whole plan to escape.Thankfully your observant and know the basics on how to make an sleeping pill.

Every night your brother commands you to make him food smth like that.You, an pharmaceutical genius ended up drugging him without noticing.

T̶o̶o̶ b̶a̶d̶.He's too sharp.

You ended up running with Eri while Overhaul commands his team to capture you and the scared little girl.

The last thing you know is you and Eri getting surrounded by overhauls underlings.You started fighting back even without knowing what exactly how your quirk works.Blood and several broken bones is the consequences that you received.

Your in the verge of giving up, you were naive and weak as an 12 year old boy protecting an 3 year old girl.

Then suddenly you exploded blood and several human organs surrounded the whole shie-hassaikai base also the scared little girl's screamed echoed throught the base.

But why, why can you still feel your whole body even when your dead.The last thing you knew Eri was taken away and everyone was disposing of your blood and your body.

Your body ended up getting thrown to the river carelessly, your body that has been exploded piece by piece also ended up regenerating and ended up being normal again.You also don't feel pain.So you thought.This is my quirk huh?

A sigh of relief and hot blood comes rushing in through your veins as you ended up not being able to bring Eri along with you.

You did not cried at all.Crying is pointless and staying like this is also worthless.

The thing that first comes into mind is you going to turn yourself in to the child welfare services.You introduced yourself as an child sold by your family and you also introduced yourself with an fake name to hide your real identity.

You ended up being adopted by an family living in the city.You don't care at all as you long you can have revenge and save your sister and you will together escape this madness again.

You also go to know how to use your quirk well and uncover many secrets about it.

Your adoptive parents also started noticing on how quite your good at using your quirk so they ended up home schooling you.They were shocked you were such an intelligent obedient child they also treated you like their own.

You feel kinda safe,warm and comfortable at the same time.You also can't help to feel bad and burdened on how you abandoned Eri.Your living in heaven while she's experiencing hell.What a good brother you are you asked to yourself.

3 years passed you basically got into UA due to hardwork and determination You became also strong and your appearance drastically changed.

Meanwhile everyone UA aims to be number one and your goal is to save your sister from your pathethic brother.You also kept an low profile of yourself to hide your existence.

You actually ended up getting along with most of the class especially to Midoriya.You dont know why because he just gives the scent that you can trust him and he's a good person.

Also the girls in the class likes you because you respect them and also beat that little shit up by being a huge pervert.(if you know you know)

Time passes by and eventually their will be an upcomming event, the UA sports festival.Everyone in the class is excited meanwhile you are anxious, your identity will exposed and all your hardwork will go down the drain.

It does'nt matter,your much stronger and confident now.The sports festival came to an end and everyone gathered at the classroom for an sudden meeting. To be honest you did great on the event but you did not manage to get through the top 3 rankings.

You ended up getting an reccomendation to a hero agency.You accepted the reccomendation and it was basically for a month to get better and stronger.

Everything happened so fast, you ended up getting an reccomendation and accepting it and getting attacked by the villains.So UA decided to just make an dorm system to make sure that the students are safe at all times.

Aizawa announced that there will be an hero internship and you ended up getting back to the agency that trained you a few months ago.

Everyday is like usual you did multiple patrols, go to school to study and mostly can't sleep in the night.

You and so as the others like uraraka, tsuyu, midoriya, kirishima ended up being summoned at Nighteye's agency.

Their were many pro heroes as well your teacher, Aizawa is here.You can sense that the situation is quite serious and Midoriya and Mirio is acting weird and you can also sense fear in them.

Nighteye's sidekick bubble girl and centipeder explained that there is a villain on the loose.You lost your complexion, you felt sick and scared.All of your memories in hell projected throughout your head "Y/N - san are you okay? your complexion does'nt seem too good." tsuyu said in an concerned voice.

You replied, that your okay and you said that you've never ever seen something brutal.

As they've continue on nighteye mentioned that overhaul or also known as kai chisaki has an daughter.

You snapped and standed up while shaking " What seems to be your problem Mr.L/N?" nighteye said in his intimidating voice,everyone was staring at you like your crazy.

"I-i have something to confess." you said as your voice trembled

"And what is that?"

"My brother is Overhaul."

"Y/N - san you must be mistake----."

"NO! YOU DONT KNOW WHAT YOUR GETTING INTO, AND THE WORST CASE SCENARIO IF YOU GOT SHOT BY THOSE DRUG YOUR QUIRK WILL BE DESTROYED AND WORSE SOMEONE WILL DIE!" you yelled and everyone stared at you with disgusted faces and even in disbelief

"So your saying that your in hands with Overhaul or your so called brother?"

"No... I tried escaping with Eri but she was taken away and my body exploded in pieces and my body parts ended up being thrown carelessly through the river,thanks to my quirk i can basically regenerate and create an new identity.However i did not accomplished on taking her with me.AND DONT YOU DARE IMPLY MYSELF WITH THAT MANIPULATIVE PATHETHIC MAN DONT YOU KNOW WHAT ITS LIKE BEING TORTURED EVERYDAY?EVERYDAY IS HELL AND IF WE MAKE A MISTAKE ONE FLICK OF THAT BULLET YOUR BASICALLY AN DEADMAN WALKING!AND I HATE SEEING PEOPLE DIE IN HIS HANDS!" you yelled in frustration.

Your classmates, stared at you in disbelief you are the most calm and composed person in every situation but in this situation, they did not know that you we're in despair.

"S-sorry, with that said.He thinks that i'm dead but no and i'm not affiliated with him anymore, plus the last time we saw eachother is 3 years ago."

"So please, i beg you save my sister she's all i have." you said as you bowed to the ground showing pure respect.

Nighteye sighed and he said he saw that coming and commanded you to tell everything that he did to you amd Eri and about their Yakuza gang.He also said to keep an distance and do not fight in the infiltration of their base.He also said to Aizawa to protect you.You agreed, it's the least thing that you can do to help in this kind of situation.

The day comes and you were basically watched by Aizawa eyes wide open (Lmao i just remembered i cant stop me and cry for me #Once #Twice).

You ended up not taking it anymore and sneaking out of the UA teacher dorm without anyone noticing.

You have no problem in making it through the base but you have to fight multiple of villains tho.You ended up seeing the sight of the ruined base and seeing your brother and Mirio fighting over the little girl.

"OVERHAUL!" you yelled in your booming voice as you've appear in the darkness wearing your hero suit .

"R/N?ah, so your alive?" he said in disbelief .

"Yes?so?my dear pathethic brother also known as overhaul."

"Too bad i shot him already." he said as he pointed at Mirio's struggling limp body as Eri just covered herself with his scrapped cape.

You ended up fighting him one on one.You knew that he was strong and powerful and so are you.

The last thing you knew was going all out with your quirk and passing out to the ground and you were in the hospital getting treated by recovery girl.

A few hours later you received the news that everyone in the Yakuza got arrested but Overhaul got taken away by the league of villains,Mirio ended up getting shot by the quirk destroying drug and ended up loosing his quirk.

Lastly sir nighteye got killed due to the bad injury that he got whilst fighting him.On the good side Eri was taken custody of and is doing well in the hospital together with Mirio and Deku.

You sighed in contentment and walked in your hospital clothes in the hallway trying to find her hospital room.

Your heart started racing and you saw the letter engraved "ERI" you finally mustered up the courage into opening the door.You saw Deku and Mirio playing with her

"Y/N - chan your here!" Deku said enthusiatically.

The little girl hids on her sheets when she thought that you were a bad person along with Aizawa.Mirio said that it is okay and you two are their teacher and a school mate.

"Eri - chan do you remember me?" you said on your soft voice she immidiately remembers that familliar voice, her eyes widened and ended up throwing her arms onto your embrace crying.

"R/N!"

"You do remember me!Your okay now your safe,nii-san is here to protect you and will not leave you alone." you said sobbing while hugging the little girl she nodded and you two just stayed like there for a while.

Deku and Mirio : 🥺 (Lmao you to scootch along i'm her real brother🔪).

And finally the hospital visit is over and they allow you to visit her along with Deku and Mirio during weekends on the hospital.

You also apologized to Midoriya and Mirio for meddling the middle of the fight.Instead they thanked you and if you were not there they would've ended up dead.

A few weeks later she can finally get out of the hospital and ended up being in Aizawa's care in the teacher's dorm in UA.Since you trusted him you allowed him to take care of her.

You also take care of her when Aizawa is not around along with Deku and Mirio in the dorms.

The whole class is also shocked in how much your attitude and behavi reverses when Eri's around.They were like : 🧐,🤭,🥰,😍,🤩,😱 is that even possible HShsgsh.

You also learned how to cook and teach Eri how to read and learn you also play with her ofc.

You also became more confident, and a .Lmao the look on your face when bakugo called you an Tsundere.And you said in the most murderous voice ever "DIE." then Eri comes in like : 🙁🗿.

"I said i will DYE my hair later pink HAHAHHAHAH😃." you said jokingly.

Everyone was like : 👁️👄👁️ Meanwhile eri's just : yea im down with that face with a small nod and a smile***

Mina aswell as the others ended up taking the joke seriously and you ended up having a pink hair color the next day to school.

Monoma said that you looked pretty u̶g̶l̶y̶ he ended up getting beat up by kendo.(SHHSHSHEHE LMAO😂).

Shoto thinks it's cool HAHAHHAHA.

Eri said that she likes it and it looks nice to you.Iida and Aizawa lets you slide disobeying the school rules just this ONCE he just wants to see the little girl happy.

The reaction on your adoptive families face when you told them that you have a sister is priceless.They we're like : " i guess we need to adopt another one." S̶i̶k̶e̶.

Note : the gif is not mine a̶n̶d̶s̶o̶a̶r̶e̶y̶o̶u̶

💌 : OMGGG THANKS FOR REQUESTING AGAIN!✨Sorry it took too long hehehe anyways! i'm stoked to see that you also watch Demon slayer! it's really an good anime and i'm looking forward in the movie that will be released!the animation will be so sick😫✨💥.

ORIGINALLY by : bokunosoul

#mha imagines #mha x y/n #mha x reader #class 1 a x reader #overhaul x reader #mha headcanons #mha drabbles #kny

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i-am-infinite · 4 years ago

Text

Guilt (Part 1): The Rescue

(Din Djarin x ForceSensitive!Fem!Reader)

Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6

Slight Chpt 12 and 13 spoilers. Read at your own risk.

Description: Moff Gideon has found someone else to run his experiments on and word gets back to Din. Will he take his son far away and try and find somewhere safe? Or will the guilt of an innocent being put in his son’s place eat away at him? (No Y/N or ___ used)

Word Count: Slightly over 4K

Warnings: Mentions of blood and needles. Broken glass. Fainting. Blood loss. Canon type violence. Possible bad writing (first fic pls go easy on me). If I’m missing anything please let me know, I’ve never done one of these before.

A/N: This is my first fanfic I’ve written so it might be really bad but I couldn’t get the idea out of my head so here it is. I also made up a planet/system and don’t know if star wars has alarm clocks but i wrote it in anyway. I also wrote this in Word first and then realized I couldn’t copy it over so I tried my best to type it over in here.

Normal. That is what was used to describe your life. Nothing out of the ordinary. Life wasn’t boring per se, but it definitely wasn’t compelling enough for your tastes. Studying to be a healer help keep it somewhat interesting but not enough.

Bzzzzz. Bzzzzzzzzz. Crust littered eyes creak open as your face unsticks from the textbook scattered across the desk. Bzzzzz. Bzzzzzzzzz. Your stiff neck cracks as you finally sit up. Fell asleep studying again. You loved learning about healing, you really did. But the long nights and barely sleeping was enough to make your head explode. Looking over at the clock with bright red numbers blinking at you. 8:15.

8:15! I’m late! You think as you force yourself awake. No not again! Being a student means you need to do hands on hours down at the nearest medcenter. All the late night studying also means that you oversleep most days. Grabbing your work bag filled with a change of clothes, in preparation of these events, you run out the door.

Your feet hit the wet cobble stones as it echos through your little part of the city. Vendors lining up the street ready to start their days. Passing the shop you went to yesterday, your mind too preoccupied to notice that it’s empty today. You know that theres is a faster route to the medcenter, but is it a path you really want to take today? Dark and windy path that you can barely see five feet in front of you on mornings like this. Too foggy and muggy for your liking. You’d rather stick to the main road where there’s people, where if anything were to happen, people would see, they would know. Regardless, it shaves fifteen minutes off your commute. You loathe having to be late for another shift. Making the sharp turn in between tow booths, you pace quickens to get through as quickly as you can. While not having much visibility, you swear you can see a pair of eyes in the dark. Has to just be my imagination, you convince yourself, I just need to keep going. It’ll be fine.

Footsteps echo behind you. Hands grab your shoulders. A scream rises in your throat, but no sound comes out. Everything goes dark when you feel something hit the side of your head.

Sigh. “Grogu get back in your seat.” The little baby waddles down off the controls and into his father’s lap. “Not what I meant,” Din grumbles with a smile hidden under his helmet. He grabs Grogu by his little robe and places him in the seat to his right and tells him to buckle up as a holo comes through from Greef Karga.

“Mando, we’ve just got word that Moff Gideon might have been seen in the Braic system. It looks like they found a substitute for the baby for the time being. I would use this time to go find a hide-out and lay low. He could still come back for the little one. Be well,”

Din goes to start the ship and find coordinates to stay out of trouble for a while when he hears the baby whine. Looking back at his adoptive child, all Din can see is Grogu, then a nameless kid, lying unconscious on a metal table, trapped underneath a contraption. Din starts breathing heavy and feeling sick that he ever gave his son up to those Imps. All he can hear is the beeping of the machine he’s hooked up to. Anger boiling back to the surface as he hears himself yell at the doctor all over again in his memories. No, he tells himself, He’s here with me. He’s fine. He’s safe. He shakes himself out of it and goes to fly the Razor Crest off planet.

Before he even gets off the planet, all Din can think about is that innocent person in his son’s place. They were going to kill Grogu, just for his blood for their experiments. Din can’t bring the kid anywhere near those people, he can’t risk losing his family, not when both of them have formed such attachments to each other. But he can’t stop thinking of this person who is in the that position now. He should’ve made sure Gideon was dead. Because of that now more people are going to get hurt.

Without thinking he turns on his holo already asking, “Where is he taking them?”

Feeling groggy with heavy eyes, you are able to open them just a bit to a blinding light. Reluctantly closing them again, you lift your arm to rub your eyes, but only they don’t move. What? The rest of your senses start coming back and you can feel the cool metal against your back, the same metal wrapped around your wrists and your ankles attached to the table. Finally bracing the light and opening your eyes, lifting your head slightly off the table and oh no the room is spinning now. There is an IV in your arm drawing your blood out into some odd machine, explaining the dizziness. Second time in two days you’ve had to deal with your own blood.

Walking through the shops on your one day off, you pick up a flower hair pin. The glasswork is so intricate and entrancing, you can’t help but turn it over and over in your hands. A pearl bead sitting in the center of iridescent gray and white petals. Placing it back in its place, your had scrapes against another glass design that is not yet finished, slashing open your palm. “Oh, dear let me help you with that,” the lady running the stand says. She looks you with her white hair barely covering her forehead. Tattoos liter her arms. A design peaks your interest as you swear you know but can’t quite place.

“It’s fine, I can take care of it myself,” you state already inspecting your hand. No shards in it so thats good.

“Oh no I insist. It happened at my booth, let me help clean it,” she declares taking your hand in her own. It feels like she squeezes the wound causing you to wince in pain slightly. Knowing she should just be cleaning it and wrapping it, you’re a little confused. Maybe she just doesn’t know how to tend to these sort of things, not wanted to embarrass her at her stand, you keep quiet. She finally gets a clean rag to help blot away at the blood on your hand. You didn’t think anything of it at the time, but it appears she has put it in a bag to the side.

“I don’t have any gauze to help wrap it up,” the stand lady says.

“Oh, don’t worry, I have plenty of my own,” you mention, “It will be fine until I make it back to my place.” Smiling you walk away. Without looking, you can feel her move the piece you cut your hand on into the bag. Must just be because it’s a dangerous piece, you think, not knowing there’s still some of your blood on it too.

Closing your eyes again, you try to wonder why that is so significant to you right now. It was a harmless thing in passing, so why is it at the forefront of your mind? You are strapped to a table and all you can think about is that little cut you got the day prior. If your head didn’t feel like it was a spinner top right now, you would have laughed. Opening your eyes again you see men all in white armor and helmets guarding the door to your room, while a man in a white coat is working on the machine where your IV is attached. I thought the empire was dead. The same symbol that keeps going through your mind is the same one sewn into the man’s white coat. Your breathing gets shallower as you feel the panic rise in your chest. I’m never getting out of here, you realize as your vision becomes black once again.

You’re losing a lot of blood. You know that. You can feel it when noise wakes you up and your eyelids feel like lead. All the noise is muffled, as if you’re underwater. Frankly it feels like you are. It would be so easy to let the waves of darkness just wash over you right now, to let the water take you under. No, you can’t give up the fight and drown into unconsciousness just yet. You force yourself to stay awake.

Barely getting your eyes open, bright red lights flood your vision. You imagine you’re still in bed, or at least asleep at your desk, with the alarm clock blaring, not here with blaster fire. Wait, blaster fire? You attempt to turn your head to the side to look, or to dodge, you aren’t to sure in your current state. The fast action causes you to feel like you’re spinning, or it might be the room, either way your eyes can’t focus on what is going on. Closing your eyes again to make it stop, you hear voices surrounding you. They sound so far away at the moment but finally, after what feels like ages, one voice sounds clearer.

“Please help us. Help us get out of here. Her m-counts aren’t nearly as high as the child’s. They’re demanding more blood. She’s already lost 2 liters, I don’t know how much longer she can last.”

Child? They wanted to do this to a child? You’d choke down a sob if you could just thinking of that poor baby. What did he even say about what-counts? What the hell are those? All these questions are making your head spin more and more. Taking most of your energy to open your eyes, you’re met with a chrome stormtrooper trying to unbind you. Wait no, not a stormtrooper. You’ve heard stories about him and his people. What were they called? For the life of you, you can’t remember right now.

“You’re going to need help getting her out of here,” you realize that the man in the whit coat was the one who spoke before and is now pleading with the metal man, “Please Mandalorian take me with you and I’ll help you get her out of here.”

That’s it. He’s a Mandalorian. He gets your wrists free as the doctor takes the IV out. Pushing off the table to sit up, the world starts spinning again. You don’t even realize you’re about to hit the table again until the Mandalorian grabs your shoulders to keep you semi-upright. You hear some sort of static come from his helmet. “Fine.” he grumbles, “help me get her out of this thing.”

With a flip of a switch, the rest of your body is free from restraints. Eager to get out of there, you swing your legs over the edge of the table, hands finding the arms of the Mandalorian with his hands still on your shoulders. Nauseous and woozy, you try to use the cold metal of his pauldron to ground yourself, to get the room to stop spinning. He can see you start to sway and wraps his arms around your waist as he lowers you from the table. Your feet hit the floor and black dots start to cloud your vision. Blood pounding in your ears trying to tell you to stop and lie back down. Muffled voices come from beside you again as you feel another arm wrap around you from the other side. Your feet dragging against the floor as both men on either side of you go towards the door.

You feel the heavily armored man to your left let go. Eyes that are still fuzzy and unfocused sort of see him peak out the door with his blaster drawn. He leaves the room and all that can be heard is the pew pew pew of blaster fire. Vision start to come back the tiniest bit, you can see him standing in the door way waving his hand as to say Come on.

The three of you hurry as fast as you can down the corridor to get to an exit. Lots of twists and turns, just for you all to come up at a dead end. So much for rescuing, you think to yourself as the doctor still holding you up, leans you up against a pillar as the two of them survey the situation. More of the Mandalorian assessing the situation and the doctor just frantically pacing back and forth.

Sitting down now that the adrenaline of being kidnapped and “rescued” die down, you feel your breathing getting shallower and harder to breath. Eyelids getting heavy again. You just want to lay down and go to sleep, hoping that will fix things. Starting your descent from your upright position to close your eyes, two hands grab your shoulders and jerk you up. It takes a second to realize this modulated voice was talking you you. “Hey, you got to stay with me now,” he pleads, one hand going to the side of your face. Pain spreads across your features due to being struck there earlier, a bruise starting to form in its place. Pulling his hand away like seeing the your face contorted burned him, he continues, “I’m going to get you out of here, you just have to stay awake.” You open your mouth to speak, but your throat feels like it’s filled with sand from Tattooine, so you just weakly nod your head yes. “Okay good,” the shiny man says after letting out a deep breath.

Still holding your shoulders, he helps you stand up and tells the doctor to take you and go further down the hall. Taking something small and circular out of his belt and placing it on the far wall, he speed walks back toward you two. It starts blinking red as his arms come and cage both of you in. Peeking over his shoulder, you see the wall disappear. Well explode, but one second ago it was there and now it’s not. When the explosion first rings in your ears, you reflexively reach out for the Mandalorian’s arm and feel him tense under your touch.

When he deems it safe to move again, letting go of his arm, he hops over the rubble to the outside world, blaster drawn. Looking out you think it looks like a desert, but one you’ve never seen before. You have no idea where you are, even what planet you are on. You eyes go to where the chrome man is stalking towards. It seems he found two speeder bikes that the troopers use, sans the troopers. Your feet hit the gravel and you realize you aren’t wearing shoes anymore. How long was I out? You begin to question when you see a stormtrooper take aim at your rescuer. Right when he pulls the trigger, you reach your hand out and scream, “NO!”

You could’ve sworn it was going to hit him. It should’ve hit him. But at the last second it bent and went in another direction. You knew stormtroopers were bad shots, but nothing like that has ever happened. The Mandalorian whips around at your scream and shoots the trooper down. He goes back to what he originally planned to do, but not without turning to you. You see his chest plate heave up and down a few times before turning back around. After a beat, the only sound you can hear is the Mandalorian starting up the speeders and your heartbeat pounding in your ears. The doctor helps guide you to the bikes and as you’re about to get on behind him, the Mandalorian picks you up bridal style and sits on his own respective bike. You make a noise of discontent at the sudden action and are then seated in front of him, yet again caged in by his arms with your legs draped over one of his. You can hear him breathing through the modulator as he states, “Just in case you pass out again. Can’t have you falling off the back of the bike.” You go to adjust how you are sitting when he takes off.

Gasping in shock, you hug your arms around his neck with you head in his cowl as you take panicked breaths. His hand touches your back as you hear him shout over the noise of the engines, “Put your legs around me, you’re slipping off.” He holds your waist as you sling your right leg around and hook it with your left one behind his back. Not the position you thought you’d end up in as a blush creeps up on your face, but neither the less here you are. His hand lets go of your waist and back to the handlebars as he steers.

Suddenly getting the feeling like you’re being followed, you say into his neck cowl, “Go left!” You don’t know why, but you just get a gut feeling to go that way. He follows your lead, not without a brief hesitation. The doctor follows on his speeder in the same direction. Finally looking up you see two stormtroopers in the distance. I wish their speeders would just stop or something, you plead with yourself and you think back to what happened with the blaster. Testing the waters, you unhook one of your hands from Mando’s neck and hold it out and... nothing. Okay focus, you close your eyes and picture their speeders stopping, or malfunctioning, or anything at this point.

The sound of a crash comes ringing into your ears. Opening your eyes, you can see the troopers flip over their handlebars as if their engines just died. You slightly chuckle to yourself as your eyelids feel heavy again. You try to get them to stay open, but sleep just feels so much better at the moment. And with that, you’re out like a light.

Din feels you go limp against him. His arm once again going to grab you by your waist to keep you in place. He wills his speeder to go faster, to get back to the Razor Crest sooner as he’s panicking thinking he somehow made the situation worse. He exposed you on the bike by having you sit like this. Your arms, legs, and head were all exposed to possible blaster fire. Have you been hit? He heard a crash but couldn’t look back without moving you more, risking leaving you more unprotected. His blame for himself spirals as his grip on you grows tighter. He can’t explain why he’s so distraught over a stranger, but still every time he blinks, he swears he sees back on that table. The next time he swears he sees his son on that very table again. First he gave the kid up to those people, now he didn’t finish Gideon off and let you, an innocent stranger who he is now clutching onto for dear life, get in the crossfire. Too many people have gotten hurt because of this. Because of him. He needs to make it right.

Finally Din and Dr. Pershing arrive at the Razor Crest where Din is already lowering the hatch and carrying you in. Kicking some crates together, he gently lowers you down onto this makeshift bed. He uses his thermal setting to see your body temperature, to see how you are recovering from the blood loss. He isn’t thrilled to see it still low, you were getting your energy back slowly before, along with more body heat, bit not enough to Din’s liking. Turning his helmet to Pershing, the doctor says, “She’s going to need more blood.” Din, already standing ready to run out and get some, not even knowing where or how to do that, is stopped by Pershing telling him that he’ll go get it, that it would look less suspicious. Agreeing, Din sits by your side while using his comm-link to tell Greef that he could bring Grogu back to the ship. How Din always finds someone to babysit still surprises him.

You wake up with a start. Eyes not yet adjusted to the lights overhead. Looking down you can see an IV in your arm again. Now towards the side, you can see the same doctor from before asleep up against a wall. Please tell me it wasn’t a dream, tears well up in your eyes as you think you’ve made the whole thing up to cope. It wasn’t until you felt your hand come to wipe away your watery eyes that you realized it just might not be a dream. The IV isn’t taking blood this time, it’s giving it.

Finally looking around, you realize you’re on a ship that feels like it’s moving. Confused by this, you try and sit up. Not nearly as dizzy as before, you slowly swing your legs off the wooden crates you’re lying on. Noticing your still barefoot as a chill gets sent up to your spine by the cold metal floor, you grab your IV bag off what appears to be just a hook poorly attached to the ceiling. You venture around the small area of the ship, noticing there isn’t a lot besides these boxes and what appears to be two storage type of units. You don’t even tempt to look in, too intrusive. You do however see a ladder going higher up on the ship. Taking the IV out and ripping a piece of your shirt off to wrap around your arm for pressure, so you can use both hands to climb, you start your ascent up.

Once you finally reach the top, you hear cooing? Didn’t that doctor say something about a child earlier? Looking forward into the cockpit, you see your savior flying while looking to his right at one of the co-pilot chairs. Clearing your throat to get his attention, two little eyes peer at you from the seat. A bright smile appears on this little green things face and you can’t help but stifle a laugh because its ears are the size of his body.

Distracted by this cute baby, you don’t notice the way the Mandalorian swivels his chair to face you. Finally looking at the man who saved you today, your breath hitches. You don’t know how to thank him for what he did, so you sort of just stand and stare for a second. He stands up and lightly grabs your arm with your homemade bandage on it. Tilting his helmet to the side you hear static coming from it. Did he just sigh at you? “You were supposed to keep it in your arm,” he finally states, with a tinge of annoyance.

Eyes not wanting to meet the T of his visor, you direct your gaze to the ground. “ I jus- I-,” you stammer, not able to find the right words. “Thank you.” It comes out more hushed than you’d like, but he still hears you. He just gives you a slight nod before releasing his arm and heading back to his seat. All your muscles turn to stone as you stand there not knowing if you should leave or not, until he cocks his head towards the seat to his left. On shaky legs you find your way to the seat. Before even sitting down fully, the little green child is already trying to get into your lap. Giggling to yourself you let him up onto your lap.

Once you do the strangest thing happens. You can feel what he’s thinking, his emotions, his past. How he was trained with the special abilities, much like the ones you just displayed before. How he was scared and in hiding until the man sitting in front of you found him. How he thinks of him as a father, his dad. Your chest tightens at that one. Still confused as to why the same people who wanted this child, Grogu, for his powers, also wanted you, you pull him to your chest to comfort you both. You finally speak up again and ask, “Did they want me because I might have the same abilities as this one?” You meant it to sound strong, but it just came out sounding weak.

Without looking at you, the Mandalorian replies shortly after a pause, “Yes.” You swore you can see his grip tighten on the ships steering as he says that. Turning to the two of you finally, he says in the sincerest voice you’ve heard out of him, “They wont get to either of you again. I can promise you that.” Your chest swells at this statement and Grogu looks up at you with a smile as if he felt the way your heart fluttered. You wish you were the one wearing the helmet right now because you can feel your cheeks heat up. To ease the situation in the best way you can, awkwardly, you clear your throat before asking, “So where are we headed now?”

Swiveling back in his chair to hit a few buttons, you’re confused not knowing what they are supposed to do until he pulls up a map and points a place out. He tells you that he’s going to drop off Dr. Pershing at one of the squiggles you see and then try and figure it out from there. “So, I guess thats where I get off too?” You meant it to come out more as a statement than a question, but after what you just went through, you’d rather not be left to fend for youself.

“If that’s what you want,” he finally utters after a while. “ But they’re not going to stop coming after you. Either of you. It might be safer for you to stay here with me, us.” The last part comes out so quiet, it’s almost as if he didn’t want you to hear, out of fear of your response.

Trying to not answer too quickly, you take a deep breath and finally say, “Yes. I’d like that a lot.” With a curt nod, he turns back around. Warmth fills your chest yet again at this stranger’s kindness. It’s just because I have the same abilities as his child, you try to convince yourself. But deep down you’re hoping it’s more than that. The child in your lap grips your fingers tightly and coos, as if he’s trying to tell you your hopes might not be too far off.

Oh, it’s going to be an interesting adventure with these two, you smile to yourself.

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sapphicquill · 4 years ago

Text

TAZ Balance: the truth will set you free

(ao3 link!)

Rating: Teen

Characters: Taako, Kravitz, Magnus

Wordcount: 2942

“You’re fuming, dear.”

Taako turns to look at Kravitz when the reaper speaks, trying not to let the thin frown fall off of his face at the sight of his uncharacteristically smug dead boyfriend. From his spot as Taako’s personal body pillow, Magnus laughs quietly.

“I can’t believe he convinced you to teach him this shit,” Taako says with an exaggerated huff. The elf crosses his arms tightly across his chest, sticking his chin up haughtily to hammer home his petulence. Magnus laughs again, the vibrations of it rumbling through Taako’s back like a purr. Taako very courteously does not throw an elbow backwards into the fighter’s stomach, despite how much he would enjoy doing just that. Kravitz lets out a hum, smirk not quite leaving his unfairly handsome face.

“It’s not my fault Angus got curious about multiclassing as a bard,” the reaper finally says. And, as much as Taako was loath to acknowledge it, Kravitz is right. Taako groans theatrically and pointedly does not actually respond like an adult, because fuck that.

Angus had approached Taako after one of their lessons together--much less frequent than they once were, before Lucas had gotten the idea to start up a small magic school, but Angus seemed content to return to his first (and clearly superior) tutor whenever the chance presented itself. But instead of asking for some sage wisdom or deeply insightful advice from Taako himself, Angus had asked for confirmation that Kravitz had been a bard before becoming a reaper, then begged for Taako to bring him along for their next lesson.

Kravitz had been over the moon when Taako begrudgingly explained the situation, and the reaper wasted absolutely no time in devising a lesson plan for the boy detective. Taako had to work especially hard to keep from swooning over his boyfriend’s enthusiasm and instead sulked to their other boyfriend about the cruelty of life. (Magnus had been very little help, the bastard. Taako left with a disgruntled whine when the fighter started theorizing on how to convince Ango that learning some rogue skills could be helpful too, the absolute traitor.)

“You want to know what I think?” Kravitz asks after another moment of silence. Taako frowns as he finally lets his gaze meet the reaper’s eyes directly.

“Not particularly, but something tells me you’re going to keep talking anyway, you dick.”

“You’re jealous.”

Taako feels himself freeze for half a second before he can pull himself together. Damn Kravitz for knowing him so well. Damn him and Magnus for making him feel comfortable enough to even let himself be read that easily. Damn them both.

“Oh fuck right off, you’re full of shit,” the elf tosses back almost automatically through gritted teeth.

“Hey, play nice,” Magnus teases, poking Taako in the side. The unexpected jab sends a fluttering shockwave through the startled wizard, who squeaks before he can catch himself. Kravitz continues to look on smugly, not breaking eye contact with Taako as he scoots further up the bed and closer to the other two.

“You’re very precious when you get all wound up like this, love,” he murmurs. Taako shifts, instinct telling him to pull away and hide, to clam up and put up an even harder front. A quiet voice that sounded worryingly sweet and comforting tells him to just come clean to the both of his boyfriends. It wasn’t like they didn’t know he was secretly a soft, if somewhat emotionally-deficient, sap. Magnus had definitely figured it out somewhere along that first hundred years, and Kravitz was frighteningly perceptive.

A sudden weight around his waist distracts Taako from the beginning of whatever bullshit emotional spiral he’s about to fall into, his body automatically pulling against the sudden restriction. Though the warmth of Magnus’ arms encircling him from behind sends an innate sense of calm through him, the elf nearly pulls something in his neck as he whips his head toward the human because Magnus, what the actual hell. Magnus has the decency to look a bit sheepish, but resolutely does not let go.

“Mags…” Taako growls, narrowing his eyes and trying to look intimidating despite the growing fluttering of excitement in his stomach. He’s quickly figuring out Magnus’ plan and is now desperate to not show his hand because fuck, this got different, fast. This somehow turned into Taako goading his boys into absolutely wrecking him for being a stubborn piece of shit, which he hadn’t even considered as an outcome when this mock argument had started. Now, however, his mind is three steps ahead, already craving the feeling of his partners’ touches driving him insane.

Because here’s the thing—Taako, maybe, kinda, sorta actually likes getting tickled. He absolutely would never say as much, even under pain of death (and he is really familiar with how fucking painful death can be), and the only other being in the multiverse that probably knows is Lup because, duh, twin sister or whatever. So it was always imperative Taako never let on in any way he didn’t exactly hate it when Magnus and Kravitz, whether alone or together, decide to tickle him stupid. He would probably implode from the embarrassment—and what a dumb fucking way to go after everything else. No, that wouldn’t do at all.

Thus, it’s second nature for the elf to throw out menacing glares and cutting threats, which is exactly what he does as he feels Magnus flex his fingers and rest them at the center of his stomach. He’s unable to resist flinching at the sudden light touch to his bare midriff, though—damn, why did he and Lup convert the majority of his wardrobe into crop tops?

Movement at the other end of the bed catches his attention, so he redirects back to Kravitz, face pinched and pout sufficiently exaggerated.

“It’s quite alright, Taako, really,” the reaper says, affecting the tone he usually saves for puppies and small children, the absolute ass, “You’re allowed to want to be Angus’ favorite.”

“Shut up, I do not—”

The remainder of Taako’s protest is swallowed by a sharp gasp as Magnus draws his fingers across Taako’s stomach with a quick flick

“Do you really think you’re in any position to be bitchy right now?” the human says, smile evident despite his gruff tone. Taako feels his ear twitch as Magnus’s breath skates across his skin and it takes every ounce of concentration he has to not shiver or let out a breathy half-laugh. Instead the elf remains as still as possible, frown almost ridiculously exaggerated and eyes narrow slits focused on Kravitz. The reaper adopts an over-the-top pout—no doubt meant to mock Taako’s own expression—and draws ever closer to Taako and Magnus.

“Magnus, maybe you could help me convince our beloved to be more honest, hm?”

The words have barely left Kravitz’s mouth when Taako feels Magnus begin to slowly drag his fingertips across his exposed stomach. Tiny zings of tickly sensation burst across Taako’s skin like low-level electricity and somehow keeping still and silent is the hardest thing Taako’s ever done in his life. He can’t, however, keep the warm bubbling feeling of anticipation and excitement from flooding his entire body, and that, of course, makes keeping still even fucking harder.

Magnus’ fingers trail lightly across Taako’s abdomen before slowly gliding up his sides. Without really meaning to, Taako squeezes his eyes shut, trying to will himself into a trance by force. This clearly amuses both of his boyfriends, as their joint chuckles echo in stereo in the sudden darkness. Taako feels like he’s standing on the edge of a cliff, one wrong move and he’ll cascade off the side and plunge ten thousand feet—

Then Magnus’s devilish touch reaches the top of his ribs and the dam breaks.

A steady stream of hiccuping giggles pours from Taako as Magnus gently skitters light tickles across one of Taako’s absolute worst spots and even without looking, the elf can tell that his boyfriends have both got gleeful expressions on their stupid fucking faces. He squirms, trying in vain to block out the torturous sensation of Magnus’ fingers or escape their attack altogether, but that just seems to encourage the fighter. Feather-light scritches instantly turn into fast, fluttering pinches and quick vibrating prods and Taako would be embarrassed about how quickly he dissolves into full-fledged laughter if he wasn’t so busy absolutely losing his mind.

“Ready to admit you secretly adore Angus yet, love?” Kravitz asks from far too close, Taako can tell he’s almost pressed up against his chest, but fucking of course he isn’t. He can practically hear the mischievous grin in the reaper’s voice when he shakes his head.

“You leave me no choice, then.”

Over the sounds of his increasingly frantic laughter, Taako can hear Kravitz speaking the incantation for Zone of Truth, and he’s sure Krav’s crimson eyes are sparkling with mirth. The unique sensation of enchantment magic washing over him barely phases the elf—he’s too preoccupied with Magnus’ deft hands flitting up and down his ribs to really pay it much mind. Taako squeezes his eyes even tighter and attempts to focus on resisting the truth spell, gasping around his laughter, trying to push past the way his nerves feel like they’ve been set alight so he can focus—

And then promptly fails his save.

Of course he fails his save. How could he possibly concentrate on resisting a Zone of Truth from a powerful ex-bard-turned-Grim-Reaper with Magnus’ fucking fingers skittering across his abdomen, drawing squeaky, desperate laughter from him like water from a well?

“Now, come on, dove, be honest with us.”

And then Kravitz is tickling him too, on top of concentrating on a fucking spell, his nimble musician’s fingers skittering ruthlessly across Taako’s hips, and it’s impossible to think about anything other than the fluttering in his stomach, the laughter forcing its way out of his lungs, the pleasant fuzziness already clouding his mind. He can’t even remember Krav’s question, really. Taako’s brain feels like it’s been filled with cotton (but like, in a good way) and he can barely string two thoughts together before giving up thinking altogether.

“Admit it, Taako, tell us the truth,” Kravitz purrs directly into Taako’s ear and even that tickles like hell, and between that and the two pairs of hands currently wreaking ticklish havoc on him, it feels like every wire in Taako’s brain is crossing simultaneously. He wants this to end and also never wants this to end, why can’t his boyfriends wreck him like this constantly, it’s not fair—

“Tell us, Ko, come on!” Magnus whines, seemingly trying to match Taako’s usual petulant tone as he drills his fingers into the wizard’s underarms and knocks his laughter up at least ten decibels, and that’s what pushes Taako to open his big, stupid mouth. He means to say something about the dumb boy detective, he really does, but instead all he can think about is Kravitz and Magnus making him scream and laugh and thrash around with teasing words and fluttering fingers and, well—

“I—I—” Taako’s voice breaks on a laugh, brain going a million miles an hour and also stuck in the mud simultaneously.

“Yes dear, that’s it, come on, out with it,” Kravitz says while rubbing incessantly ticklish circles into Taako’s sides. And that finally pushes an answer out of Taako, who manages to push through his laughter long enough to speak.

“I fucking like being tickled, okay?—Shit—!”

Suddenly, the two pairs of hands on Taako’s skin still, and as his laughter slowly dies down, the full impact of what he’d just actually admitted to hits the elf like a cartload of bricks. Fuck. Shit.

Weirdly, instead of instant fiery panic, Taako is filled with a sense of...calm? It’s like someone hit pause on the entire fucking universe. Taako keeps his eye closed and resolutely doesn’t think about what just happened; doesn’t think about anything, other than a burning sense of mortification and the deepest desire for a hole to open up and swallow him up.

“Nope, okay, that’s—I didn’t—no, fuck this,” Taako mumbles as he sits up, easily breaking out of Magnus’ hold. With eyes still closed he leaps up from the large bed and has half a mind to burn a Teleportation spell to get as far away from his boyfriends as possible before feeling a cool hand wrap around his wrist. Taako can identify the feel of Kravitz’s touch almost alarmingly well, and normally he sinks into it without more than a few grumbled faux-complaints. Here and now, the wizard doesn’t instantly pull his arm from Kravitz’s grasp like he desperately wants to, but he doesn’t move toward him either. Instead, he keeps his eyes closed and pretends he’s literally anywhere else.

“Taako, wait,” and that’s Magnus’ voice, the one that always makes a small part of Taako melt because it’s so full of genuine love and affection and care and fuck, he has to open his eyes and face the two men he actually definitely loves, shit. He braces himself, not exactly sure what expressions might adorn the faces of his boyfriends but he’s prepared for the worst.

The first thing Taako sees when he opens his eyes is, unsurprisingly, Kravitz, as the reaper is closer to him. What does surprise Taako is the look Kravitz is giving him. The other man looks—apologetic?

“Taako, I’m so sorry,” Kravitz starts, and Taako feels his heart stutter a bit, waiting for the other shoe to drop. “I should never have cast Zone of Truth and forced you to tell us that.”

And that—

That’s not what Taako had expected to hear come out of Kravitz’s mouth. He’d more or less thought, at the very least, he’d get laughed at. Made fun of. Belittled. Shamed. This is—far from all of that.

“I—what?”

If it had been any other time, Taako would have congratulated Krav for actually rendering him fucking speechless, because that’s a rarity. As it is, Taako can’t do much of anything aside from gape, gaze not leaving Kravitz’s crimson eyes.

“The spell, it didn’t compel you but it forces you to be truthful, and you clearly weren’t ready to tell either of us that you—”

At this, Kravitz seems to pause, looking like he’s attempting to phrase his words as carefully as possible while still turning over this new information in his mind. Luckily, Magnus, as he always seems able to, picks up right where their Grim Reaper leaves off.

“You’re totally waiting for us to roast you or something, aren’t you?”

Fuck, has Magnus always been this perceptive? Taako could have sworn he was oblivious as all hell but no, this is the man he’s known for over a century, of course Magnus knows all his tells.

“Well, we’re not going to,” the fighter barrels forward, always fucking rushing in, and Taako isn’t sure whether he wants to dive back onto the bed or Misty Step to the front porch to call Lup on the Stone of Farspeech and just scream.

“Why would we? It’s not like you’ve told us something weird or bad or anything,” Kravitz adds, finally out of his own head. He sounds a little frantic, like he desperately needs Taako to believe him and fantasy Christ, Taako loves him for it.

“Honestly, it’s kind of adorable,” Magnus adds. Taako finally cocks his head enough to meet the human’s eyes and he’s known Magnus long enough to tell when he’s lying.

He’s absolutely not lying.

The sense of relief that Taako expects to flood through him comes in waves. His heart is still beating a million miles an hour (which he hadn’t even noticed, fuck) and it still feels like he could cook a five course meal using only the heat collected on his face, but his desire to run and hide and sulk is retreating, and the space between Magnus and Kravitz is looking more and more inviting by the second.

It’s the most natural thing in the entirety of the planar system for Taako to lower himself back onto the bed and resume his position lounging against Magnus. Quiet descends on the room and it’s warm, comfortable.

“We should probably have a real conversation about this later,” Kravitz says, and Taako surprises himself by humming in agreement rather than groaning in protest.

“Later,” he concedes, and then Magnus is shifting again and Taako’s about to grouse about how a moving pillow is a pretty shitty pillow when—

“So if you actually like getting tickled—”

An involuntary shudder shoots down Taako’s back at this, at Magnus’ voice curling around that word, fuck, and suddenly the great brute’s hands are back on Taako’s ribs and his fingers are slowly tracing Taako’s skin and it’s like a bolt of lightning through his entire consciousness.

“Then you won’t mind if Krav and I get back to work, huh?”

Despite quickly being overcome by tittering giggles, Taako can sense a voiceless conversation happening over him, and then Kravitz is back in his space and his hands are inching up Taako’s thighs, squeezing and stroking lightly as they go.

“Yes, Magnus is right—you never actually told us what we really wanted to hear, love,” Kravitz purrs, mischief and affection so clear on his face that there’s no room for Taako’s anxiety to even attempt to convince him of something horrible.

So instead of spiraling into a pit of despair, Taako revels in the wide grin pulling at his lips, savors the electric sensations rippling across his nerve endings, and laughs.

#tk fic #tk fic community #tickle fic #taz fic #the adventure zone fanfic #taz tickle fic #taagnitz #lee taako #ler kravitz #ler magnus #it's happened #it's here #my first official tk fic #posted in celebration of national tickling day because of course #sapphicquillfics

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