#flapping my little hands all exited

[spritebrain]

:0 ???

my critter.

my wonderful blorbo; Aliminium.

he is precious to me <3

i love him, and you should, too.

[zae-heeyyy]

Seraphic

Summary: You are Arthur's angel. Pairing: Arthur Morgan x female!reader Word count: 2,222 Tags: smut, high honor Arthur Warnings: 18+ MDNI

a/n: Whew 😅 I'm a little nervous to post this one. 🫣 Been sitting on it for a while (no pun intended) I've read and reread it a million times, and I'm ready to share. Also, we're pretending like Arthur's tent actually closes. Anyway thanks for reading!

Seraphic: something angelic or celestial in nature, often suggesting purity, beauty, or holiness.

By 1 a.m., the sounds of camp had reduced to the songs of crickets and the crackle of the fire. While everybody else slept, you waited up for Arthur, reading a book under lantern light in his tent. He arrived eventually, keeping his greeting short and joining you on his cot with slouched shoulders, seemingly exhausted. When he took his hat off, the grimace on his face became all the more apparent. His expression and tense body language told you all you needed to know; whatever happened out there wasn't good.

You handed him a match and a cigarette from his nightstand, and he thanked you with a nod. Using the heel of his boot, he struck the match and lit the cigarette, holding it with his thumb and index fingers. Flickering lantern light and the burning ember tip illuminated his bruised knuckles.

"Should I ask?" You traced a gentle finger over the bruises, and he shook his head.

"Best not," he replied, exhaling a ribbon of smoke.

"Well, I'm glad you're still in one piece," you said, looking him over. His shirt had seen cleaner, less wrinkled days, and sweat plastered his hair to his forehead. "Well, mostly in one piece."

He let out a gust of air, a failed attempt at a laugh, before pinching the bridge of his nose and groaning.

"Headache?" you asked, and he confirmed. The discomfort came with the life he lived. Loud gunfire, the rush of adrenaline, and focusing on his shots all combined to leave him in pain afterward. You exited the tent momentarily and returned with a bowl of warm water, a cloth, and a bottle of miracle tonic.

"Here—for your head." He took the medicine and snuffed his cigarette. Rejoining him, you sat on the cot and dabbed his face with the wet cloth, wiping away dirt and sweat. A soft kiss on his temple prompted him to lean into you, the tension finally dissipating. You wrapped your arms around his big frame and held him close. Obviously, he was your safe space, but oh—were you his. Eyes shut, he rested his head on your bosom.

Arthur found comfort in his typical role as protector and provider. But in these moments, when roles faded, he could feel the weight of the world lifted off his shoulders—a crushing weight he didn't even realize he was carrying. Being with you like this made him wonder if heaven was real because you were godsent.

To Arthur's dismay, you unraveled yourself from him to tie the tent flap closed, sealing the two of you away in the dark. Walking between his legs, you untied his neckerchief and dusted his soiled shirt.

"—Needs a wash. Your blood or someone else's?" you questioned, fingers undoing the top button.

"Not mine," he answered. Peeling the shirt off and tossing it aside, you studied him for a second time tonight. He'd seemed more relaxed than when he arrived, but his brow stayed brooding. Still positioned with his legs on either side of you, you caressed his face, one of your thumbs stroking the hairless scar on his chin.

"What else can I do?"

"You done enough; I'm fine." He gave your hand on his face a reassuring squeeze.

Leaning forward, you kissed him tenderly. His arms wrapped around your waist, drawing you nearer until your foreheads touched. You spoke low against his mouth, a playful grin forming on yours.

"You gotta stop getting yourself into so much trouble, Arthur Morgan."

Your demand was met with a chuckle, and he replied, "I'll do my best, darlin'." You peppered his lips with loving, tender kisses, making him smile against them and squeeze you tighter in a hug. You would do just about anything to see that man smile at you the way he did, all soft and endearing.

Your kisses subsided, but Arthur's affectionate gaze stayed fixed on you. The slight smile on his face had straightened, his expression mirroring the intensity of the one he wore when he first confessed his love for you.

"Got that look on your face," you told him, and he just blinked slowly, awestruck. Though he often swore he was a man of few words, he could fill volumes with his devotion for you. You loved it when he got like that, entranced and overwhelmed with love.

The way he watched you set a fire within you that warmed the most intimate parts of your being. He was surprised when you let yourself fall heavily into him, trying to get as close as possible. Maybe he was going to say something or make a noise, but he didn't have the time before your mouth was on his again, your tongue pushing through his lips to tangle with his. You only pulled away when you needed to breathe.

Instead of pressing your lips to his once more, you dropped to your knees in front of him. Eyes widening, he tried to bring you back up to your feet, shaking his head, once again astounded by you.

"Sweetheart—"

Still on your knees, you patted his cheek and looked up at him with doe eyes. "Shhh, let me take care of you, Arthur." His hand found yours on his face, and he turned to kiss it, nodding placidly. Both of you managed to keep your volume low as you helped him strip down to his union suit. You began working at the buttons of his neckline, doing more ripping than unbuttoning, shoving the fabric down his shoulders.

As more clothing fell away, you trailed sweet kisses down his abdomen. At the same time, his hands roamed wherever they could. The rough pads of his fingers lightly tracing your skin mirrored a faint electric charge. Despite being a brute of an outlaw, he was overly careful with his hands when it came to you; your body was fine china and deserved to be treated as such. Goosebumps formed in a wake left by his touch.

As you kissed down the trail of hair under his belly button, his rapid breathing hitched, and the bulge between his legs strained against the flannel fabric, begging to be unleashed. You tried to find his eyes as you groped him through the underwear, but his head was tipped back, his mouth agape.

"Look at me." You whispered, and he snapped to attention like a soldier following commands. Eyes locked on his, you unclasped the last button, and his length sprung free, the pink head of his cock primed with anticipation. A teasing laugh crept up within you as you trailed soft kisses from the base of his shaft and left one long lingering peck on the tip. The loud, rhythmic thumping of his heart was music to your ears. Not wanting to keep him waiting any longer, you took his entire length in your mouth, bobbing your head up and down, taking him deeper until your nose touched the curly hairs at the base.

Then he couldn't hold it in anymore; a deep, guttural groan escaped him.

Your mouth was the warmest, most intoxicating blanket he'd ever been wrapped in, and he never wanted to leave. He gaped at you, seeing your mouth full of him, his pupils dilated with pure lust. The blunt tip of his cock pressed to the back of your throat, making it constrict around him. His whole body shuddered.

"Look whatchu' do to me, woman," he rattled, tangling his hands in your hair. Despite his eagerness, you withdrew from his aching sex, a string of saliva joining your lips to him. Something reminiscent of a whine exited him when you stepped away, but his open mouth fell shut at the sight of your bloomers slipping down your legs. You kissed him, savoring the salty, bitter taste of his arousal mixed with the tobacco and herbs of his mouth.

"Lay back," you murmured in his ear. Obeying your command once again, he let out a grunt as he felt your weight on top of him. You straddled him, and he held you up, his fingers digging firmly into your sides. Bending at the waist, you kissed longingly, your hips undulating against his. He pulled your nightgown up around your midriff, one of his hands gripping the flesh of your ass while the other one went between your legs. His index finger sank painstakingly into your weeping cunt, then brushed over your clit, making you shiver. He raised himself on his elbows, reaching for the hem of your sleep dress.

"Take this off; let me see you." You raised your arms and let him yank the garment away, leaving you completely exposed on top of him. "Beautiful," he breathed, using the back of his hand to graze your skin. Breathy sighs escaped you as he traced delicate circles around your nipples. His eyes bored into you, absorbing every detail like you were the most captivating thing that ever lived. Hyperfocused on your body, he fondled your breasts before gliding his hands down your torso, ogling, taking all of you in.

Freezing, his stare intensified as you massaged the tip of his cock up and down your glistening slit. Touching his lips to yours, you pushed him into your wet folds. Neither of you could contain the sounds building with you. He split you open, stretching you, making room for him, filling you. You held yourself up with your hands braced on his chest, but you went weak as he bottomed out within you, brushing against that deep, tender spot. You would've fallen if he wasn't there to hold you up, a thought mirroring one he had about you so often.

"I got you," he whispered into your ear. It took every ounce of restraint he had not to snap his hips up into you, the warm embrace of your center clearing his mind and driving him mad all the same. Finally, you started to ride, surging and sinking into him. He was a simple, agnostic man, but being with you like this made him believe in all the theocracy of angels, soulmates, and divine intervention. This was his bliss. This was his heaven, and you were his seraph. He'd go through hell every day if it meant coming home to this—to you. Hypnotized in the rhythm of you, a new thought crossed his mind every time you bounced.

Up.

She's so goddamn beautiful.

Down.

So perfect.

Up.

My girl.

Down.

My girl, my girl, my girl, my girl.

Up.

My angel.

Down.

I love her so much.

Up.

So wet.

Down

So warm.

Up.

So danm tight.

Down.

Shit.

And before you could come back up again, he squeezed his eyes shut, halting your hips with all the strength he could muster, fighting the damn-near irresistible urge to cum inside of you. Sweat had built up on his brow, and his stomach rose and fell quickly with each panting breath. You folded to kiss him, your hard nipples grazing against his chest.

"It's okay," you whispered, patting his face and grinding antagonizingly slow against him. You wanted him—needed him— to come undone for you. With that goal in mind, you picked up the pace and rolled your hips relentlessly, moaning your every thought into his ear.

"You feel so good inside of me."

"I need you."

"I love you."

Your climax was building fast, and you reached to give relief to that sensitive bundle of nerves atop your center. Arthur pushed your hand away swiftly, replacing it with his own. Always a giver, he'd do anything to feel useful while you were treating him like royalty.

While one hand worked your clit, his other gripped the meat of your hip, rocking you in time with his upward thrusts. His head tipped and hit the pillow, and you could feel his thighs tensing and shaking beneath you. Lips parted, he stared up at you. You felt him twitch inside you, and his brow finally relaxed.

That did it for you.

You were wordless as your orgasm ripped through you, your head swirling, and your veins on fire. Arthur's guiding hand on your hip didn't stop, and he fucked you through your climax. Hugging your body close and nuzzling his face into your neck, he growled as he painted your inner core with his own release. You stayed like that, glued to each other as you came down from your highs.

"You're too good for me," he finally said. You clasped a hand into his, kissing the long-forgotten bruises on his knuckles.

"Shut up." You responded, and he didn't say another self-deprecating word. It was the least he could do.

You cleaned up and redressed, nestling into the small, one-man cot. Finally settled for the night, you resorted to your regular bedtime positions: your head on his chest, his arms wrapped securely around you, your legs tangled in one another's.

He rose before you in the morning, perching himself on the cot's edge while you slept behind him. He wrote in his journal, his thumb leaving a smudge on the page:

"For a long time, I believed I could not live a bad life and expect good things to happen to me. Yet somehow, this woman of pure goodness entered my life, and it is clear now that I have been a fool."

[after-witch]

Horrorfest: The Killer Always Comes Back For One Last Scare [Yandere Haruta Shigemo x Reader]

Title: The Killer Always Comes Back for One Last Scare [Haruta Shigemo x Reader]

Synopsis: You're the last one alive--or so you think.

Horrorfest prompt: When I saw you post wanting to write a Mean Thing for Haruta JJK, my mind immediately jumped to now requesting "reader-chan thinking they killed him and got away, but surprise! His luck technique" in the way slasher films trick you

Word count: 2010

Notes: yandere, reader is female, descriptions of death, gore, groping, sexism, Haruta being Haruta

The blood–oh, the blood. You’ll never get the blood out of your clothes. They’ll have to be burned.

No–they’d be burned no matter what. Because even if the soaked-in red could be removed and laundered and done away with, you would always see it. You would always smell it. You would always feel it, warm at first and now dry and tacky, damp against your skin. 

Most of it wasn’t even yours, after all.

It was theirs–your colleagues–your friends–

Nao, her body sprawled face-down, neck sporting a boot print; blood soaked through the stab wounds through her chest, her back and the highest part of her thigh. The last was close to her backside, and the killer had laughed about it. “I almost got her cute little ass!”

Kei, killed the simplest. Killed first. Stabbed through the gut. “I’d rather play with you girls alone,” the killer said. He wasn’t lying. Because Shika–

Shika, flat on her back, eyes wide in horror. Her face was a canvas of pain, stab wounds on her cheeks, one of them flayed and flapped open, hanging down her jaw. Her hands–what was left of them, they were stubs of missing fingers now, defense wounds–were splayed upwards. In desperation, in prayer. In growing rigor mortis. 

A glance around you only makes you want to tear at your hair, your skin, to collapse on the ground and die alongside them. Hell, with your blood loss, that might still be an option.

Fuck–This was supposed to be a simple mission. An easy one. The plan was to meet for dinner and drinks afterward. Nao would get too drunk on cocktails and Kei would ask her out again and Shika would slap him and you would laugh and laugh and–it’ll never happen now. Not ever again.

You are the only one left alive. And it’s not fair, really. It’s not right.

Your colleagues–your friends, after years of working together–weren’t any stronger than you. They weren’t any weaker, either. You were the reconnaissance team. Trained in basic combat so you might hold your own until actual help arrives, but your techniques were defensive, strategic. 

It was always the next wave of sorcerers who were meant to do the real fighting, while your team got the information, relayed it to just the right people, then got the fuck out of there. And today? Today, you did get the information, and you did relay it to just the right people. 

But just as you were planning to make your swift and necessary exit, everything went to shit. The single curse user that you were meant to be tailing (a weaker man, you’d noted; his sword held his hand for him, of all things) turned out to be two. And the second had a technique that hid him from your sight until just the right moment, unleashing a barrier that kept you contained–an ambush. 

The second curse user didn’t even bother coming inside, and there was a brief sense of relief that rippled through your team. You could deal with one low level curse user. This other man, blonde and thin and wearing a stupid outfit and a stupider grin, could surely be fended off until help arrived.

Or so you thought.

He’d grinned widely before counting the lot of you with his sword in hand–

“One, two, three… four.” 

His gaze lingered on Nao, on Shika. And then on you. Longer than the others? Maybe. It was hard to tell, then and especially now, with the adrenaline. And the blood loss.

Speaking of–

You grunt and rip off a piece of your tattered suit, then another, and another. You’ll have to wrap your wounds yourself, now that you’re–now that you’re alone. Help will arrive soon, and since the curse user is finally dead, and the barrier is gone (perhaps his second simply gave up, when he died?) all you have to do is survive until someone comes to help you.

Which should be any minute now, surely.

They will come before you finish wrapping your wounds, even; there’s a hope you cling to, while you carefully gauge which of your injuries is most at risk for killing you. Probably the stab wound in your side. It went in deep. It hurt–it still hurts–and blood is still seeping out. There’s a strange sort of pain with this wound. Something that almost tingles. Perhaps he hit an organ. Or an artery. Or both. 

The cuts on your arms and legs, no, that’s superficial. Meaningless. You don’t bother with them, instead going for the deeper wound, wrapping it with as many pieces as you can. Blood seeps through, despite the efforts. But that's all you can do. 

A pained sigh, more of a whine, escapes your lips as you lean against the old fountain in the center of the square. On the off chance that the second curse user came back, sitting here was an awful idea. But you were tired. You were dying. And sitting here gave you the best chance at rescue.

It also gave you the best sight of the curses that had seeped their way out of your body, that of your friends as they died. They were nothing much. Bitter, scared things. Whining and whimpering, much like you were doing; much like the rest of them did as they died.

But it would be over soon. You could go home. Call your parents and tell them you love them, consider how to pick up the pieces, and maybe in time you–

“You’re still here! I’m so happy!”

The warmth of slowly bleeding out is cut through with ice that runs up and down your weary limbs, stopping at your chest to make sure your heart begins to race so hard that the pain of it has you leaping to your aching feet.

“You…” The words come out of your lips without energy. It’s impossible. You’re dreaming. No: you’re dead. That must be it. Dead and this is what you hallucinate as your brain fires off all those lovely synapses. 

But it’s not a dream, and you’re dead. Not yet.

The curse user is standing in front of you, looking almost cheerful. His sword is back in his hand–back to holding his hand–and the wound that should have killed him, the ragged slicing of his neck that you managed with a broken pane of glass, is healed up. The only sign of it are dried rivulets of blood covering his neck and chest.

He glances down at it, following your gaze.

“Weird, huh? I’m just really lucky, you know!” When he looks back up, his eyes are wild. But not with anger, as you might expect. No–his eyes shimmer with glee.

There’s only one thing your brain can think to say to him.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?”

His eyes widen. His lips get thin. He seems to be thinking seriously, perhaps for the first time in his whole damn life. And then, his face begins to shake–a little at first. His lips twitch into a smile. Then he throws back his head and laughs. Loud, giddy. It hurts your ears and you long to cover them up.

“I like to have fun,” he says, taking a step closer. 

Your eyes dart here and there, but where is there to run? You’re exhausted. Bleeding profusely. You wouldn’t make it around the corner.

When your pathetic gaze makes it back to him, he grins wider.

“And I really like weak things. You’re a weak thing, aren’t you?” He licks his lips as his eyes travel up and down your weakened, bleeding body. “All women are.”

There’s a retort somewhere in you; some indignity that might flare up and have you glaring, spitting at him, all defiance and swollen anger. But that retort has been stabbed out of you, chased out of you as your legs twisted and turned within the barrier. 

The retort is blubbering in the blood seeping out from underneath your torn suit bandages. 

“Aw,” he coos. “See? You can’t even speak.” He makes an awful noise, a gleeful little moan. “I want to hear you scream again, though.” His gaze flicks at Nao and Shika. “They made wonderful noises as they died. So pitiful.” His voice cracks at the last word, like a boy in puberty. 

At this, your body does finally try to run away. It has to; you can’t just stand here and die, no matter how tired you are. So your gaze hovers to the left before your bled-out mind decides it’s the best direction to go, carrying your weakened, jelly-like legs a few steps. 

A stupid thing to do, but since when were primal instincts always smart? 

“Oh!” He croons, just in time for your knees to buckle, for your body to hit the pavement hard. 

His footsteps sound too loud against the ground as he approaches you. You’re about to die. He’ll either kill you quick or slow but either way, you’re dead. 

Well, you think. At least I won’t have to live with survivor’s guilt. But mom-dad-sis-friends-neighbors-my-dog–growing-up-on-a-quiet-street-the-time-I-fell-down-at-the-playground-my-first-kiss-and–

All bittersweetness, all those momentary flashes of your life before your dying eyes are replaced with blinding hot pain searing through your ass. His sword–

“Bull’s-eye!” The laughter from behind you is too giddy for the blood-stained scenery. “Ah, should I try your tits next? Women always squeal when I…”

Whatever he says next is lost when the world gets topsy-turvy. The pain in your side and ass and body sears hot as you’re turned around by the curse user. You’re too weak and he’s not exactly strong–if only the second team had gotten here–but he’s strong enough to manhandle you, to hold you up by your wrists and fling you back to the ground so that you land on your back.

He straddles you, pressing his knees into your open wound. You scream–it must be you screaming, everyone else is dead–and he rolls his eyes backward lewdly. 

You hear the sword clatter to the ground and there’s almost relief in you, before you feel his hands roughly groping your breasts. It hurts. Not because he’s particularly rough, though it’s entirely possible; but because your entire body hurts. 

And maybe because, despite the knowledge of your imminent death and the gaping wounds on your body, you can still feel shame. 

“These are so cute,” he murmurs, voice half-laughing. “I wonder if I could cut them clean off.” His eyes glance towards his sword just as you whimper.

A pitiful sound. A small sound. A sound that attracts this vulture-like predator as readily as any mouse in the desert.

He leans forward, cooing softly. “You don’t want that?” 

You shouldn’t. It wouldn’t matter. It’s not going to change anything. But you can’t help it; fear of even more pain wins out.

“Please don’t,” you croak. “Please.”

The sigh that escapes his lips is practically sinful. 

And then–worse than death–you can see an awful thought blossom behind his eyes.

 “You know, I’ve been thinking–” He leans in close, breath hot and stale on your face. Spittle flies onto your cheek. “Since you’re so weak… and since you’re really the prettiest one… I might just keep you alive…”  

His tongue sneaks out like a worm and licks a trail up your cheek, catching tears and blood in one go. Your body jerks all too feebly, a blow to your dignity and primal desire to get the fuck away from him. 

You don’t want to die. But do you want to live, when this is the alternative?

He doesn’t care to find out your answer; instead, he licks another trail down your face, dragging blood–some yours, some not–into your mouth. You sputter, and he bites your bottom lip when you try to jerk your head away.

You whimper again–soft, pitiful, trapped. 

He only grins, and you can hear the sharp slice of the sword dragging against the pavement as it finds its way back into his hands. 

“It’s like you were made for me, right? Poor thing.” 

[clannfearrunt]

"Warmth"

A pair of short scenes I wrote a while back; snippets of Thresher and Rill interacting with their fathers on a winter day.

Thresher carefully stepped over the sleeping bodies of his podmates, reaching for the flap covering the tent exit. He paused, hearing the soft grunt of someone rousing from sleep. 

“Where are you going?” It was Jin. He lifted his heavy head to blink drowsily at his child. “It’s cold out.”

Thresher pulled out his phone to check the weather. 50F. “Taking a piss. It’s not cold.” Jin worried too much. He stepped outside, ignoring the low grumbling coming from behind. 

Crisp winter air greeted him outside; the night was quite chilly, unpleasantly so, but not dangerous. The earth beneath his bare feet had failed to retain any heat from the weak December sun, and hungrily sapped his own body heat away. He supposed Jin’s concern was fairly reasonable this time. He does the worrying so I don’t have to, he reminded himself. Thresher stretched upwards, refusing his body’s instinct to shrink against the cold. Sitting there shivering wouldn’t help him get back to bed any quicker. 

Before heading back inside, he paused to gaze out into the desert. All was quiet save for the occasional rustle of dead shrubs as a breeze nipped gently against his skin. Though moonless, the night wasn’t dark - the distant haze of Splatsville’s lights smothered out the stars that Thresher had heard should be lighting up the sky instead. He squinted up at the faint remaining stragglers blinking weakly in the vanishing patches of darkness for a few moments, then gave up and slunk through the tent’s heavy tarp. 

Inside, Thresher thought he caught Jin turning conspicuously onto his side. No doubt he had been sitting awake waiting for him to return. 

He doesn’t have to do that, he sighed. Thresher wasn’t a little kid anymore. 

But he gently passed over the rest of his family again (even Reef, who ran the warmest) and draped himself over Jin, settling against the dull heat of his body. He idly counted the spots on Jin’s speckled hide - there were more stars on his back than in the night sky outside - until his eyelids began to drop. 

In the morning when they all wake, Buddy would be chirping for everyone’s full attention, and it would be Thresher’s turn to be the older podmate. But for now, in the long winter night, Thresher was warm against a sea of stars, and he was Jin’s little calf. 

-------

“— so today, my son’s taking our newest Lampris™ heatwear system for a spin himself!”

“Right, it’ll be interesting to find out how much longer I – or any other cold-blooded folks – would be able to stay out here with the new gear.”

“Maybe we’ll be able to share this experience with more people afterwards, but finally getting to take my boy out on the ice proper – now that’s what matters!”

“Alright folks, see you around, and good fishing!” Fathom cut the video recording and set out to upload it to his Twitter. If he had noticed how quickly his son Rill had pulled his protective mask and goggles back on, he showed no signs of it. Rill did notice their butler leaning in to say something to Fathom, which he seemed to cheerfully brush off; the butler returned to their vehicle with obvious hesitation, where he stood hovering by the driver door with the keys visible in his hand. Well, at least someone was watching out for Rill.

Already, Rill regretted taking his mask off for any amount of time. The electric heating system in his stupid coat provided barely any relief against the freezing air he just took into his lungs. He probably shortened his time out here by quite a bit by chilling his core from the inside out. If they weren’t out here to fish, he could probably raise his temperature with some heavier exercise. He just hoped he’d be able to stay out long enough to satisfy Fathom. Rill narrowed his eyes at his “father”’s unmasked, un-goggled head; the sheer difference in their respective cold weather equipment pissed him off. Fathom’s breath turned to steam with every exhale, and Rill wanted to tear into the fish’s hot innards and steal his undeserved warmth.

Since Rill’s time was more limited, his father had him drop his lure first. Fathom immediately began coaching him on effective jigging techniques, but already Rill was having trouble listening. How long had it been since they drove out onto the ice? The initial estimate for how long he could stay out here wearing the Lampris system, without heavy exercise, was an hour to an hour and a half - how much of it had they used during transportation and setup? 

The warmth from the battery operated heat packs were faint, struggling against the freezing temperatures outside. The battery life probably wasn’t long either, considering the cold. What even was the temperature outside right now? He couldn’t remember. 

Was he moving his lure? He tried to lift his rod slightly and let it drop again. Was he even using the right technique? 

Did his body store ink in large volumes while in rest? Or did it produce it as needed? 

At what temperature did ink freeze? 

Was he breathing? 

Yes. Okay. 

But it felt glacial, as he felt his body slowly slipping towards torpor. 

It was interesting, he noted dully, just how slowly one could continue to panic. 

“Rill, Rill you’ve got a bite!” Fathom’s shout sounded like it came from somewhere between 3 feet to 3 miles away. 

Oh, Rill thought distantly. I guess fish really are desperate on the ice. 

Suddenly he found his arms yanked backward, snapping the rod sharply upwards. Fathom was behind him. Right. Rill struggled to remember how to turn his hand to reel in his line. His boneless arms seemed more stiff than should be possible. He felt vibrations through his back from what was probably Fathom shouting something, but he didn’t hear what it was– 

And Fathom peeled away, reaching for the catch. Some kind of medium sized fish. Whatever. Fathom clapped him on the back and babbled excitedly, but Rill no longer registered its meaning. At this point it took all his focus just to take the fish from Fathom’s hands and hold it up for the photo he was sure to want. 

As Fathom handed off his phone to their butler and posed for a photo, Rill leaned in closer than he normally would, pressing himself into his father’s embrace – but no warmth made it through to him between each of their coats.

[hotluncheddie]

high masking autistic steve snippet - a follow on from this and this

wc: 2.5k | rated: T | cw: none | tags: autistic steve harrington (and eddie but again this is about steve), hurt/comfort, established relationship, stimming

ao3

✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩

Steve is spending the evening doing one of his new things. Where he takes time to just be. It’s recovering, or Stevie time, or whatever Eddie and Robin have decided it should be called. 

He’s alone basically, and it’s nice, because he’s letting it be nice. Letting it be restful. 

It’s for when he’s had a meltdown. Or can feel one coming on, because now he’s starting to recognise what overstimulation feels like on his skin. How it prickles at the back of his neck if his breaks cut short, makes his vision vignette if something too unexpected happens. 

Learned that after something like that he’ll need to rest. Needs time. 

And it’s not lazy. It’s not. (Sometimes it still feels like it is.) (Weak…that word always plays in the deep, scathing tone of his father’s voice…and selfish.)  

He’s on the couch, it’s dark, he actually feels really comfortable, and he’s watching The Breakfast Club. Watching it again. It’s his favourite, it feels like his. But he doesn’t like watching it with other people because they might notice how much he likes it and he doesn’t want that. Can’t be seen like that.. Embarrassing. 

So he watches it alone, when he gets home from work. He pauses whenever he wants, rewinds, pauses. Takes a deep breath, rewinds, pauses, stares into space. 

He also pauses to eat the snack he brought in. Actually tasting the food bc it’s the only thing he has to focus on. No lights, no sounds. He forgot how much he likes oranges when they’re ripe. Harder to taste if he has to listen at the same time. So, on a day like today, he lets himself do stuff one step at a time. 

It’ll probably take him double the normal run time to get all the way to the end. But who cares? It’s his time. 

The weird girl’s parents driving off; that feels like him. The jock’s Dad letting him off easy; that doesn’t feel like him. ‘No schools gonna give a scholarship to a discipline case.’ Maybe that does feel like him. Before through. A long time ago now. 

He claps sometimes. Keening high in his throat, a little happy hum that he only lets himself do when he’s alone like this. He does it after he whistles the same tune they do. And during the scene of them running around the corridors. It’s exiting. Makes his lips stretch wide and his feet flap around. He claps. Once. Twice. It feels good. 

He laughs at the characters. How they merge together with bits of his friends. He feels that swell of happy sad emotion looking at the jock when he first comes in, acting above the others, only seeing Molly Ringwald. He lives through a couple flashbacks of himself. Resigns to actually watch them, sit in them, begins to process who he was. Who he’s becoming now. Something like forgiveness tasting sweet on his tongue. He cries a little; that swelling and shifting as buried emotion finally passes. It overcomes him sometimes when he lets his mind relax.. He rewinds, and he laughs. 

“Stevie?”

Steve starts, fingers tangle in the blanket in his lap. Brain slow to process the change, the information. Eddie slipping through the door and coming over to him. Eddie dipping to look at Steve’s face, trying to catch Steve’s eye. Eddie smelling like cigarettes and crisp autumn air, it’s nice, but, it’s a lot. Panic sits bubbling somewhere in him. He wasn’t expecting this. 

“…Eddie?”

“Hey sweetheart. I know you had a shitty day, but Wayne’s at home with a headache and he needs to sleep it off. Wouldn’t’ve been able to stay quiet enough for him.”

Steve breaths in and out a little quickly. Eyes wide. 

Maybe it’s okay. Eddie knows he had a bad day. Maybe it’s okay.

“I’ll sit in the kitchen, work on my campaign, just forget I’m here.” Eddie speaks quietly, almost a whisper. 

He stares at his hand in his lap. “..You won’t, listen?” Steve feels small. Knows he’s not, his frame broad and strong. But, he needs small. Wants his world small tonight, slow. Wants to stay hidden. Him and the couch and the film and nothing else. 

Eddie just shakes his walkman and smiles (in that pointy way that makes Steve’s toes curl). 

“Kay” Steve whispers, still wary, off kilter. But accepts the kiss Eddie drops on his head, tangling their fingers together for a breath. Steve leans forward for a kiss on the lips. It’s deep, and lovely. Steve can smell Eddie’s cologne. Feels where the chill bit at Eddie’s nose. He shivers.

“No cooking.” Steve mumbles while their lips are still close. Small smile pulling at his face, eyes sharp, waiting for Eddie to get it. 

Eddie groans quietly in embarrassment but his eyes are soft and molten and Steve’s toes curl up again. “Course not baby, not again. Once you’re hungry just come through, yeah? Make us something nice.”

And the light of the kitchen doesn’t reach the couch. And Eddie listens to his walkman loud. And Steve’s safe. It’s Eddie. He’s not listening. Steve’s safe. 

His favourite scene; Bender and Claire in the stock cupboard. The way he looks so shocked, the way she bites her lip. ‘Why’d you do that?’ ‘Because I knew you wouldn’t.’ Steve whispers as they do. Claps. It’s such a good scene. He’s exited. He claps again. Rewinds to just watch her face. Rewinds to just watch his. Rewinds and watches the whole scene again. Wraps his arms around his middle and squeezes. Pauses on the kiss. He rubs his fingers agains his mouth. Giddy excitement bubbles in his belly. He hums high and happy again. He loves this movie. 

The weird girl gets a makeover, the jock really likes it. He feels like the weird girl sometimes, maybe Eddie can be his jock. Maybe he should get a makeover. Maybe keep growing out his hair. Maybe Eddie would like that. 

The credits roll. Bender’s fist in the air. Steve drifts on the couch, eyes closed. He breaths deep, his stomach growls. 

He pads through to Eddie. Squinting. Too bright. “D’you mind?” He motions to the lights, his eyes too adjusted to the dark and he doesn’t even wanna try and adjust them back. 

‘‘Cause. What we making?” 

Steve hums, goes into the pantry to see what’s easy. Eddie slips in behind him, hand on his waist. “Pasta?” Steve asks but Eddie doesn’t reply, just turns him gently. Nudging him to step back into the corner. 

Eddie looks at him, dips forward to place a slow kiss on his neck. “Why’d you do tha..’ Steve’s words dry up in his throat. 

“Because I knew you wouldn’t” and Eddie’s eyes are sparking with glee.

Eddie heard him.

He listened.

Steve’s feels himself flush hot, embarrassed and ashamed. “Ah, I, uh.” He can’t explain it, why he had to watch it so many times, why it makes him so exited. He crosses his arms over his chest. Turns back to the shelves of food and picks a can at random. Shoving out of the room. 

“Steve?”

Eddie said he wouldn’t. He listened in on him. He said he wouldn’t. He’s making fun of him. Steve knew he should’ve told Eddie to go home. 

“Stevie? What’s wrong?” But Steve doesn’t want to talk to him. He’s so angry, So ashamed, of himself. What if Eddie heard him clap too, heard him make that high noise, like a fucking baby, like some freak. 

He puts the can on the counter with way too much force, corn, not what he fucking wanted. His hands are shaking. He stares at them, wills his tears to stay behind his lash line. He got too comfortable, he can’t do that. Why is it so hard to pretend now, when it used to be so easy. 

“Steve, tell me what I did, please.” 

“‘M fine” Steve’s insides feel too big, pushing against his skin, itchy all over. He squeezes himself around his middle again, digging his fingers in hard. 

“Don’t do that, you know I hate when you bullshit like that.” Half lovely, half scathing.

The word stinks, a stab to the gut. But Steve gets it, he does, they talked about it. He bites his lip, hard. 

Its old habits or whatever. Because Steve, he loved fine. Liked sinking his teeth into it; toxic waste green coating his mouth and lungs. Thick and delicious. Because fine gets you out of it. Fine gives you translucency. Controlled balance. Everything appearing a none issue, the perfect in-between. Steve was perfect at coming off as something to not worry about, someone to be ignored. It used to work in all situations; can’t get told off if you’re fine, cant do anything wrong, teachers didn’t look twice, his parents wouldn't shout. By staying half alive, never letting anyone too close, never filling your lungs up all the way. That was the fine Steve adored. 

“You were literally just watching a movie. I dunno what the big deal is.” and there’s frustration, confusion, in Eddie, Steve thinks. He feels himself tense up, glance over.

Eddie must see something on his face. See that scared little animal prowling around within him. Because Eddie softens, his voice gentle. “Steve.. it’s nothing I hadn’t heard before.’ And Steve’s teeth clamp together with a click. He’s done that, his clap and his high hum, in front of Eddie before? Steve tries to swallow, he can’t, a lump too big and sticky in his throat.

He can’t look him in the face, angry tears still threatening to spill “You said you wouldn’t listen.” He’s mumbling. He sounds even more like a kid. Stupid. Grow up.

“I heard a little but I was just flipping the tape over, I wasn’t trying to snoop on you Stevie… You just, you sounded happy.” 

Steve huffs. Glances at Eddie. That soft underbelly of his whining, because with Eddie, Steve yearns. Yearns for close. Yearns to be seen, and understood.

“You didn’t mean to?” 

“No, it was just when I was turning the tape.” 

Steve forces a deep breath. 

“You think I’m weird. You hate me.” He whispers it like it’s true. A big part of him believes it, his tears welling up. Feels rejected. Knows that feeling too well. Hates it. 

“Always like you Steve. Always.”

Steve grunts, a tear slips out, rolls down his cheek.

“‘M embarrassed” comes out like an ugly sob. Steve scrubs his palms on his cheeks, feeling how red hot they are. Glaring at the countertop. “I’m embarrassed!” But it’s just Eddie. It was just Eddie.

Eddie comes over, slowly draping himself over Steve’s back. “Nothin' to be embarrassed about, love.” And Eddie leaves soft kisses on Steve’s neck, squeezes his waist. “You looked cute on the couch like that. Like it when you’re happy.” Steve tries taking another deep breath but it shudders. 

Embarrassed, angry, sad. Embarrassed, confused, angry. Frustrated, embarrassed. Tired. 

Emotions wash over him. He’s learning to try and just feel them, name them, pick them apart. Some bubble back up to the surface, some only needed to be seen once. 

Steve turns to bury his face in Eddie’s neck. He sighs, rubs his face into Eddie’s warm skin. shaking his head, likes how his lips feel moving against edie’s soft parts. 

Tired, hungry, embarrassed, hungry. 

“’M tired. I dunno what to eat.” He whispers, and then because he said it it’s like there’s space in his brain. “Want pasta.” 

“Pasta it is then. And then we can sleep, yeah?” Eddie rocks them gently side to side, kisses the side of his head and slips away. Goes to get the box from the pantry, puts the corn back. Steve gets a pot out of the cupboard. 

Staring into the water, the tips of his fingers prickle. Steve fizzes with energy and emotion. All pent up and annoying him. Needs it out. He clicks the flame on.  

He starts pacing around the kitchen island. In big striding, stomping steps. “Ugh! You think I’m weird. Some weird guy who acts weird and does weird shit.” Steve grumbles. Annoyed. He smacks his palm quick and hard against the counter top. Keeps stomping. 

Eddie comes back and starts following. Stomping and prancing like some court jester. “I like that you’re weird! You know, I have one episode of the Twilight Zone taped. It’s my third one. I watched the other two so much the tapes broke.’ Steve lets a little shout slip from him “Ha!” bubbly and forceful. Dislodging something within him. Like when a tooth finally falls out. 

Feels good. 

“I only like one brand of spaghetti hoops. Wayne once bought me a multipack for Christmas. Best fucking gift I ever got.” and Steve’s laughing now. Giggling and manic and still stomping around the island.

“I like how it feels to brush my teeth. I’ve never had a filling. I fucking love brushing my teeth, Eddie.” and that makes Eddie laugh now too. Two freaks stomping around the kitchen. A king and his jester, lit up by moonlight. 

Steve turns the corner and stops short, still giggling. Eddies bent at one knee, presenting the box of pasta to him. “My liege.” 

Steve claps, hums, high and keening. The waters boiling. 

-

“How’d you feel now?’ Eddie asks around a mouthful of cheesy pasta. 

Steve curls up tighter into the corner of couch, wraps both hands around the warm bowl. Glances at Eddie across from him. “Still kinda embarrassed.”

Eddie looks so soft, so kind, across from him. “I’m embarrassed too, to be honest. You love that movie, I thought you’d like me doing that. Kinda like when we, when we kissed upside-down, like I was Spider-man” Eddies sentence get quieter towards the end, mumbly, spoked into his bowl, cheeks dusted pink.

Steve strains to hear him. Smiles once he puts the words together. 

He shovels pasta in his mouth. Eyes closed. “You are so annoying Eddie Munson. Why’d you even come here tonight, you coulda gone anywhere.” Steve sinks further into the couch, it’s really good pasta.

“Missed you.” Eddie says it like it’s simple, easy, and warmth drips over Steve’s skin. 

Eddie clears his throat, Steve feels him fidget. “Wanna maybe.. You think we could live together one day? Want you to be able to do whatever you want with me around Steve. Breakfast Club on all the time at our place, kay?” And Steve’s throat constricts, that’s a big change, living with someone, moving out. But maybe with Eddie it could be okay, if they did it together, slow. 

“Yeah, kay. One day.” Softly, bit by bit. Little bits. Steve can get there. Let Eddie in, let Eddie see. “But no to Breakfast Club on all the time.” Because some times, some days, some things, are just for him. Steve needs it that way. And that’s okay. 

He stretches out further on the couch, feeling syrupy and nice, easy smile playing at his lips. “I like it when you kiss my neck though, you can do that again.” And that makes Eddie grin all pointy, put their bowls to the side and crawl over him. 

Steve’s toes curl and he hums, high and happy. 

✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩

tagging those who asked mwah! @2jug2head @lil-gremlin-things

but also people who i think might be interested (sorry if ur not lmk and i won't again) @xxfiction-is-my-realityxx @pearynice @steventhusiast @sugarcookiesteve @spectrum-spectre @irethsune

[stuntdemon-6]

How could i let this happen?

Game of Thrones (show) fanfic. Robb Stark/reader. No use of y/n. Angst, hurt/comfort. 2,000+ words.

Tw - Non graphic injuries, talk of death and losing a spouse (although no one dies in this fic).

Summery - Robb returns from a battle to news of his wife, the reader, getting attacked while he was gone. He rushes to her side, driven by fear and anger and a deep seated guilt for having let any harm come to her. His mind is clouded by emotions and the only thing he can think about, the only thing he cares about, is making sure this his queen is alright. He couldnt bear the thought of losing her.

---

Robb didn’t wait for the soldier to explain what had happened. He heard the words “Queen” and “injured,” and was already on the move towards her tent. Thankfully the soldier got the message and started walking along next to him, filling in the details as they went. Robb crossed the camp in swift, long strides. His focus narrowing down to a pinprick, thinking only of his lovely wife. His injured wife. 

The Lannisters had sent a small team of soldiers away from the battle, Robb’s man told him. Small enough that they were able to move in secret. They infiltrated the camp while most of the men were fighting. They had only one goal, only one target.

The Lannisters meant to break him with this, he knew. That was the only reason they would send operatives to kill his Queen. They meant to take his love from him, to tear out one of the last remaining shreds of light in his life, to leave him as a shell of the King he was before. Robb’s hand tightened around the hilt of his sword until his knuckles turned white. He could scarcely breathe, let alone think straight. There was a fog clouding his mind. He wasn't sure if it was from fear or rage. Either way, it didn't matter. The only thing that mattered was getting back to his wife. He threw open the tent flap, startling the occupants in his haste, but he paid little mind to that. A collection of soldiers stood inside, the small group that he had left behind to guard her while he was away on the battlefield, and every single one of them reached for their weapons before quickly realizing who he was and bowing. He didn't acknowledge them. Not yet. His eyes were fixed on his wife. 

She sat on the bed, propped up by pillows that she leaned heavily on as if lacking the energy to hold herself upright. There was a pristine white bandage wrapped tightly around her shoulder, and a sling holding her arm close to her chest. The healers had already seen to her, thank the Gods.

The sight of her, his lovely wife, his queen, in such a state had the anger bubbling in his chest reaching a boiling point. He whirled around on the men in the tent and roared, “What is the meaning of this? What kind of men let their queen be harmed on their watch?” 

“Robb,” His wife’s soft voice cut through the air, but he just shook his head.

His fists were clenched and shaking at his sides. Standing at his full height, still in his armor with blood splattered on him from the battle he’s just fought, he was a truly intimidating sight. The righteous anger of a King was not an easy thing to be faced with. The soldiers shrank back. “I entrusted you with her care, and you allowed Lannister men close enough to touch her. Tell me, were my orders unclear? Did I not specifically charge you all to protect her with your lives?” 

“Robb.” His wife spoke again, but her voice was stronger this time. He felt her hand close around his wrist and turned to face her. She had pushed herself off of the pillows to reach towards him. There was sweat beading on her brow, but she met his gaze steadily, and he could already feel his fury fading. A beat passed without anyone making a sound. Then, still holding his wrist in her hand, she turned to address the soldiers, “Leave us.”

The men, not daring to disobey their Queen and more than a little eager to get away from their King’s wrath, wasted no time in bowing and exiting the tent.

Robb couldn't look away from her. His eyes stayed glued to her face as the men took their leave. He listened to their footsteps fade away before releasing a breath he hadn't realized he was holding, “I could have them in chains for this.” He bit out, but there was less heat to his words now.

His wife shook her head, replying with ease, “They’ve done nothing wrong.”

“How can you say that?” He retorted, “They had orders to protect you, and they didn't. You’re lying in a sickbed because of their incompetence.”

“They tried to protect me.” She says patiently.

“They failed.”

“If they hadn't been there, i would have died.” More than likely, she meant to reason with him, to assuage his anger with logic. But her words did not have the desired effect. 

He flinched as if her statement were a physical blow. She was right, he knew, and he despised it. Those Lannister men had meant to kill her. They meant to take her from him. And they could have succeeded. As much as it pained him to see her like this, he could have been facing a far worse reality. The thought of returning from the battle to find her lying dead tore at his heart. 

Likely seeing the turmoil on his face, her expression softened. Her grip on his wrist gentling slightly. “I’m alright, love.” 

“You nearly werent.” He didn't mean to argue, but the words came out anyway.

“But I am.” She insisted. Then, after a pause, he watched her expression set in that way it always did when an idea came to her. He felt a tug at his wrist and his brow furrowed. Curious about what she was trying to do. He let her guide his hand to rest on her side, his palm splayed right over where her ribcage was. He could feel the steady beat of her heart through the fabric of her dress. The feeling of it, the reminder that she was still alive, still right there with him, had his breath coming a little easier. Some of the tension bleeding out of his frame. 

He moved to sit on the bed with her, not taking his hand off of her, unwilling to lose that connection and the reassurance it provided just yet. In the privacy of the tent, now, with only his loving wife to see, he let his shoulders droop. Dropping the kingly facade that he had to maintain around everyone else. He released a shaky breath, tearing his gaze away from hers as guilt began to claw at him. Staring down at the floor, he whispered, “How could I let this happen?” 

“This isn't your fault.”

“What sort of King am I, if I can't even keep my Queen safe?” 

She just shook her head, “This isn’t your fault.” When he still didn't seem convinced, still refused to lift his eyes from the floor as the weight of his failure continued to crush him, she reached out again. Her hand coming to rest on his cheek and gently urging him to meet her gaze again.

Robb was never good at denying her what she wanted.

He looked to her and his breath caught in his throat at what he found in her eyes. So full of love and care, a clear desire to reassure and comfort, but most strikingly a determination that he’s come to know well in their time together. His lovely wife had the kind of empathy that wouldn't let her rest until those she cared about were at ease again. He knew she wasn't going to let him harbor this guilt that she believed wasn't his to carry. Even if she had to sit here and argue for hours, use all of her wits and her most persuasive arguments to defend him to himself, she would see it through. 

Gods, what had he ever done to deserve her?

“Robb, you couldn't have known this was going to happen today.” She began, speaking in a low and soothing tone, “You took every precaution you thought was necessary. We both thought that I would be safe here. At least as safe as one can be during a war. You aren’t inside of Tywin Lannisters mind, you had no way of knowing that he was planning this. He’s the one at fault. Him and the men he sent to kill me. Men who are already dead and gone, cut down by the soldiers that you left here to protect me. They did their duty. And you did yours. I’m alive because you had the foresight to make sure that I wasn't left vulnerable while you were gone.”

Doubt and guilt still clung to his mind, but he couldn't find the words to argue against her. He didn’t have the heart to. Not when she was so set on convincing him not to blame himself. She looked so beautiful with that fierce kindness shining in her eyes, the determined set in her jaw even as her voice stayed soft and comforting. There was a conviction laced through her voice that proved she truly meant what she was saying. Not that Robb doubted it, he knew she wasn't the type to spout out pretty words that she didn't mean just for the sake of comfort. 

He wasn't convinced. He couldn't be, with her sitting in front of him wrapped in bandages and running out of energy by the minute. He swore to protect her when they wed and ever since, even the slightest pain or threat to her felt like he was failing to uphold that oath. But he was powerless in the face of her unwavering belief in him. Her support, understanding, and love. There was no possible way he could bring himself to press the issue with her, now. He nodded, watching the satisfaction in her eyes at having made her case well. Still, enough concern stayed at the forefront of his mind that the next words out of his mouth were, “I’m doubling your guard.” He spoke softly at first, but when he saw her mouth twist into a frown and that cute little line appear between her now furrowed eyebrows, his voice took on a firmer note. “That's not up for negotiation. Now that we know you’re a target for our enemies, I cannot leave you unprotected for a moment. You will have guards with you any time we are apart. And I will leave twice as many men to watch over you during battles from now on.”

She let out a sigh, no doubt seeing the futility in arguing over this, “If it will put you at ease, then alright.” He couldn't help the wry twist of his lips, “My love, I will not be at ease until the war is won. Until you and everyone else that I hold dear are safe at last. Home at Winterfell, where I can hold you in my arms and never have to leave your side again.”

“Well, one of those things can be accomplished now.” She responded with a small smile, before promptly shifting to make room for him to lie down next to her.

His wry smile morphed into a genuine one, an expression somewhere between fond and amused, “I’m still in my armor, dearest. I don’t want to get blood all over the sheets.”

“Then take your armor off already, and join me, my love.” She insisted, already lying back and getting comfortable under the furs.

Robb let out a low chuckle, teasing, “As my queen commands.” 

He stripped off the heavy, bloodstained armor with practiced ease, setting it to the side to be dealt with later. He laid his sword on the table as well. Always near enough that he can grab it if need be, he never could relax these days without having a weapon within arms reach. Before long, he was crawling into bed beside his lovely wife. She lifted the furs for him to climb underneath. He wasted no time in wrapping his arms around her, and felt her burrow into his chest as if it were the only place in the world where she belonged. 

It didn't take away the pain of the day. It didn't chase away the persistent gnawing sense of fear that seemed to be his constant companion since the war began. But he put those thoughts out of his mind as best he could, and focused only on the warmth of his wife's body in his arms. He tucked her close to him and rested his chin on top of her head, breathing in her scent, and silently thanking the Gods for probably the thousandth time for sending her to him.

[heich0e]

[warning: while f!reader is not described with any specific physical traits, the child in this fic is described as having inherited all of Megumi’s attributes and none from reader! please read with that in mind, or pass over this fic if not <3]

And a week after that terrible storm, Megumi pulls on his coat, locks up the clinic for the night, and heads to the nearby izakaya.

“I’m sorry, I don’t know her.”

Megumi deflates a little, leaning forward onto his elbows atop the service counter at the izakaya. The young man behind the bar looks sincerely apologetic that he can’t be of more help to him, a remorseful frown tugging at the corner of his lips.

“That’s fine,” Megumi says, smothering his burgeoning disappointment as best he can—blanketing it in a familiar air of indifference. “It was years ago.”

He’d asked for you when he arrived at the little hole-in-the-wall restaurant, having weaselled your family name out of Yuuji who’d in turn pressed Nanami for it—the elder man deeming a simple name suitably fair to share since it wasn’t particularly personal information, not least of all because he’s seemingly incapable of denying Yuuji anything he asks for. But the server who Megumi approached when he first arrived at the neighbourhood izakaya, the same establishment he’d visited with the old man all those years ago that hasn’t changed a bit since that day, didn’t seem to have any knowledge of you ever working there.

“I’ve only been here for a year,” the young man says, ruffling the back of his cropped hair sheepishly and glancing down the bar in the direction of the busy kitchen. “I could ask around, though? See if someone—”

“No, that’s alright,” Megumi cuts him off, bowing stiffly in his direction with his arms pinned down at his sides. “You’ve done more than enough. Thank you for your time.”

Megumi swiftly turns and heads in the direction of the door, stuffing his hands into the pockets of his jacket. The izakaya is noisy around him as he crosses the restaurant towards the exit, full of people unwinding after a long day of work, sharing food and drinks and talking too loudly just to be heard over the cacophonous din. He’s never really liked the overly-boisterous atmosphere of these kinds of places, which is why he’s always preferred to drink at home—but every so often Yuuji or Nobara manages to draw him into an evening out at bars just like this one.

The man just wants to get back to his little apartment where he can enjoy some peace and quiet, and nurse the nagging feeling of disappointment he feels prickling in his hollow chest.

He’s only a few doors up the road from the building, making his way back in the direction of home, when he hears a ruckus behind him.

“Excuse me!… Excuse me, sir!”

Megumi pauses in his stride and glances back over his shoulder in the direction of the shouting, only to see the young man from behind the bar racing up the sidewalk towards him with his apron strings flapping in his haste. He’s a little winded by the time he reaches Megumi, hunching forward with his hands braced on his thighs atop the overhang of his apron as he struggles to catch his breath.

“The cook… said…” 

Megumi can barely understand what the boy is trying to say to him. He’s a little concerned by how out of breath he is, too. After a few more seconds of panting heavily, the young man looks up. 

“The cook said he knew her. The girl you’re looking for.”

Megumi’s eyes widen, his stomach doing an unpleasant little somersault in his core.

The server stands up straight, swallowing thickly. He’s more composed now after his sprint. He gives Megumi your name, your full name—both given and family—and Megumi recognizes it. “He said a student with that name worked here a few years ago, but she left when she got pregnant.”

Megumi’s hands clench into fists in the pockets of his coat.

The young man looks a bit sheepish. “I hope this helps. I don’t know if you remember, but you took good care of my family’s dog a few years ago at your clinic. I… wanted to repay you.” He bows earnestly in the vets direction, a full bend at his waist.

Megumi thinks he might vaguely remember him, though his hair was longer, he didn’t have the piercings in his ears, and his cheeks were rounder with baby fat back then. “Shino-kun?”

The boy lifts his head and nods eagerly, perking up at the recognition. 

His family had an inordinately rotund dachshund named Vienna. Like the sausage. 

“Thank you for your help,” Megumi says to him, and he means it. 

Shino nods in recognition of the thanks.

Megumi moves to leave, but pauses. “The cook… does he have her contact info?” 

The boy shakes his head, and Megumi feels that same flare of disappointment swell with renewed vigour, staring down at his feet on the pavement as he tries not to let it show. He supposes it would be strange to get that kind of information from him anyway. For all intents and purposes, he’s just some stranger trying to track a woman down, who in their right mind would—

“He said the last he heard she was working at the family restaurant a few blocks away, near the park—”

Megumi’s eyes snap up towards the server again.

“—do you know the one?” 

Yes. He does.

The old man used to take him there sometimes for lunch when he was still working at the clinic, because Megumi had a tendency to skip his midday meal. The waitresses all knew the old man by name, and he’d told Megumi that he and his wife had their first date in that very restaurant decades prior. It’s an ancient little spot that’s been there for far longer than Megumi’s lived in the neighbourhood. 

And he just so happens to have to pass it on his way back home.

The neon sign that hangs over the old family restaurant paints the evening street in its glow as Megumi stands outside the diner.

It’s late; encroaching on an hour that Nobara would affectionately call ‘past his bedtime’ since Megumi tends as a matter of habit to be a man who’s early to bed and early to rise. But regardless of the hour, Megumi can’t seem to make his feet carry him any further. Neither back to his home, nor through the business’s door.

Through one of the windows, past the reflective fluorescence from the lights outside, he sees you.

You’re standing at a table by the window, chatting with a couple whose meal you’ve just served. You have a smile on your face, but it’s not quite the smile that Megumi remembers—neither as bright, nor as carefree as the one in his memory. You don’t look the same either.

You’re older than you were back then—though certainly still not old by any means—but he supposes that’s only natural given how much time has passed since that first night he met you. He didn’t look at you properly that night you came to the clinic. Didn’t take the time to really observe you. All he can really remember is how soaking wet you were, and how you didn’t want to meet his gaze.

You meet it now.

You catch sight of him through the window just before you leave your patrons to enjoy their meal, and even from a distance Megumi can see the way your expression changes. He can see how startled you look as you catch sight of him.

You’re not wrong to look surprised, and he can’t help but blame you. He’s some man you’ve met twice now, the instances half a decade apart, who’s managed to track down your place of employment. But at the same time, Megumi can’t help but think that there’s a greater anxiety that underlies your wide-eyed expression—a more considerable fear that’s palpable, even from so far away.

You appear outside, wrapped up in a puffy jacket, a few minutes later.

“Hello, Fushiguro-san,” you greet him quietly, bowing a bit awkwardly in his direction.

He returns the greeting with your own name, and you look surprised that he knows it.

“What brings you here at this time of night?”

“Where’s Kota?” Megumi ignores your question in favour of one of his own.

Your lips pull into a thin line at the mention of your son.

“The obaachan who lives next door to us watches Kota when I work nights,” you say, and your tone is colder now. Sharpened like a blade you wield in defence.

An unpleasant silence wraps around you both, the discomfort and the tension of it nipping at your heels and urging you to run.

“That’s a lot of work for an old woman.”

“She’s happy to do it. Her children have all moved away,” you seem to only very narrowly be keeping resentment from your shaking voice.

“Why doesn’t Kota’s father watch him?” Megumi asks, and his gaze is level and unyielding as it meets your own.

Your jaw sets, and a flare of something white-hot and protective kindles behind your eyes. 

“He can’t.”

A car passes on the street behind Megumi, but neither of you pay it any mind.

“Why?"

“He’s busy.”

“Too busy to take care of his own child?” Megumi isn’t trying to sound so angry, but the emotion makes itself known in his voice without even trying. He doesn’t mean to antagonize you like this. It’s not what he came here to do. But he can’t seem to force himself to be direct with you.

“Yes.”

“Doing what?” Megumi presses again, unrelenting in his pursuit.

“Drop it,” you tell him warningly, hissing the caution through your teeth.

He doesn’t heed your words.

“Where is Kota’s father?” he asks one final time, and it’s the question that makes the fraying thread of your patience finally snap.

“Bothering me outside my place of work,” you hiss, your eyes narrowed and resentful. “Is that what you came here for? Are you happy now?”

Happy?

Megumi feels sick to his stomach, an almighty fwoosh wracking through him that makes him go week at the knees and threatens to make him heave up the meagre contents of his stomach in front of you, and this street, and anyone who has the misfortune of a window seat in the diner behind you. But he feels worse still when he sees the way tears are welling quickly in your eyes. When he spots the way you’re trembling.

You’re frightened.

Of him.

“Please,” you soften noticeably before his eyes, like he watches all your will to fight with him abandon you in real time. The deflation leaves you desperate when you speak again, crumpling in on yourself. You step up to him slightly, grabbing the sleeve of his coat as you plead to him. “Just go. Forget this ever happened. I don’t want anything from you. We don’t want anything from you. I-I take good care of him; he’s happy and healthy and we’re fine. I’m sorry that you found out like this, but I promise if you just leave now you don’t ever have to think of him—things can go back to how they were, and I’ll make sure we never cross paths again.”

Megumi tastes bile creeping up at the back of his too-tight throat, and his vision has gone fuzzy at the edges like he’s watching everything unfold through a tunnel.

All he can think about it the little boy with the bunny hidden under his raincoat. The racoon on his sweatshirt. The way he clung to him in his sleep.

“He’s my son?”

You pause, still holding tight to Megumi’s coat sleeve.

“Yes,” you reply quietly. “He is.”

He searches your face for any sign of duplicity, but he knows the truth. He knew it before you said it. Knew it from the moment he woke up in that cold sweat.

“You’re certain?”

He doesn’t pose the question with any ill-intent. Hardly conscious of the fact he’s asking it at all, or what the implications of such a question might be.

You flinch anyway.

“Yes, I’m sure.”

It’s quiet for a moment. Another car passes.

“He’s my son.” This time it’s not a question, but the words are brittle and breathless as Megumi speaks them. His chest aches, his head is pounding.

You’re still clutching his sleeve.

From behind you, at the corner of the building that leads to a narrow alley, a man in a stained apron with a cigarette in his hand calls your name. You whirl around in surprise.

“Break’s over!” he calls to you with a hand clasped around his mouth. He eyes you and Megumi warily, as though assessing whether or not he needs to intervene.

“Coming!” you call back to him with a blatantly forced chipper tone, waving at him with a strained smile on your face.

You turn back to Megumi, and let his sleeve slip from your grasp. The fake smile withers slowly until it disappears altogether.

“Please,” you repeat to him one last time, quieter now that the line cook is still lingering nearby, but no less desperate. “Just forget about this. About us.”

You turn to head back towards the restaurant, and Megumi lets you go.

Until he doesn’t.

“Wait.”

You freeze, but you don’t turn to face him again. He can see the way you hold yourself around your midsection, your shoulders slightly hunched forward like you’re bracing yourself for something.

“Come to the clinic tomorrow.”

“I work tomorrow.”

“Then come before you work. Or after,” Megumi can’t help but sound irritated at your refusal. He has a right to ask you more questions. To get more answers.

You glance at him over your shoulder, and you look wary.

“Kota goes to daycare at 8. It’s not far,” you say, though your tone is reluctant. “I can come just after that.”

The clinic doesn’t open until 9, so that works for him.

He nods curtly in agreement, and then you do the same.

The cook calls your name again.

You step towards the restaurant.

“The bunny’s doing well.”

You pause in your stride and turn back to Megumi with a look of surprise on your face—the most open, and least defensive expression he’s seen since the two of you began speaking.

Megumi struggles to meet your gaze now, and looks away briefly. He stuffs his hands in his pockets.

“You can… tell Kota that. If you want.” He glances fleetingly towards you, just in time to see the ghost of a smile flicker at he corner of your lips.

“I will,” you reply quietly. “He’ll be happy to hear that. Thank you, Fushiguro-san.”

Megumi watches as you skitter back towards the restaurant, bowing apologetically to the cook as you head quickly down the alley towards what Megumi can only assume is the staff entrance.

He turns on his heel on the sidewalk and heads in the direction of home, ignoring the gaze of your colleague as he walks away.

A son.

He has a son.

A little boy who looks just like him.

A little boy named Kota.

Megumi still feels sick, and his head is spiralling with a hundred questions he can’t begin to understand how to parse through in a coherent way. A hundred things he never dreamed he’d need to know. Never wanted to.

But he’ll see you tomorrow at 8AM, so as long as he makes sense of at least a few of the unintelligible questions running through his mind by then, he’ll finally have the chance to get some answers.

[galaxygurlll]

FP1 - Aussie GP 2019 - Part 4

A new team? With two females? This is unheard of and will most certainly shake things up in F1! Meet Y/n Rose-Ocean and Evelyn Match as they get assigned seats into a new team into the F1, Porsche Royal racing. Y/n holds the number 38 whilst Evelyn holds the number 72. The two are introduced as rookies in the 2019 season, but, their area has been yet to be revealed, it being closed by tarps, and the two girls' identities have also remained a secret. Over time, even though she’s one of the youngest, she soon becomes the “grid aunt” and even “grid older/younger sister” as well.

Warnings for this chapter: None

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Previous chapter

Part 3: https://www.tumblr.com/galaxygurlll

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Continuing on...

The atmosphere is immaculate.

Ev and I are walking into the paddock, side by side with Aurel on my left and Urs on Ev's right. The sound of clicking enters my ears and I look around and find a camera pointing towards us and I give a quick wave to it.

With the security around us, we're able to avoid all the press and people wanting to ask us questions and get statements from us which I am somewhat happy about. I mean, I know that after Sunday, it will become a weekly occurrence, I hope.

Our little group passes by some of the other drivers that are just entering their garages and we even pass by Lance who I wave to as well and get a nod and smile in response before he disappears inside Racing Point to most likely talk to his team.

It's only a few more seconds before one of the security people is opening up a flap that lets us inside the Porche garage. "Alright girls, you can head up to your drivers' rooms but make sure to be down here in around an hour or so please," Aurel informs us causing both Ev and I to nod as we take off our hoods and sunnies.

"Sure thing boss and second boss, see ya later!" I call out to the brother as the two of us girls rush up to our rooms and agree to spend time right now in our own rooms, but later on will hang out in one another's.

As soon as I close the door, I practically rip off my disguise and let out a breath of a realise. In a few hours time, I will be driving in FP1 for the first time in F1 amongst the top 10 teams and top 20 drivers in the world. Talk about pressure.

I'm not too great with my emotions, but I've been compacting these feelings deep down and just need to let it all go. But I can't. Not yet at least.

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Small time skip

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As soon as I place my helmet onto my head, I realise a deep sigh and make a quick jog over to my car. Upon taking the steering wheel out, I hand it to one of my engineers to hold onto whilst I hoist myself up and into the vehicle before taking it back and putting it into place.

Now, time for the waiting game.

The garage is still hidden by the tarp, but is about to be revealed for the first time ever. Porche Royal Racing.

And then, the countdown in my headset begins. I'm way too nervous to even look over at Evelyn. "3... 2... 1..." And as soon as that last number was spoken, the garage becomes bright. Sunlight finally able to reach the inside and I can hear the distant cheers of the crowd.

"Alright y/n, wait for the signal to head out onto the track," The voice of my race engineer, Gavern, echoes through my ears and I give him a thumbs up as he turns around to face me before turning back around. It feels like forever until I hear the words, "Alright, you are free to go, follow the people that are instructing you out."

I don't respond back, but I do follow those instructions and wait to be signed out before driving down the pit lane towards the exit slowly before speeding up and heading out onto the track.

It feels so surreal. Honestly. Like, if I was told when I was five that I'd be here, I would never have believed it. Having the air rush past me as I go speeds only imaginable in a casual car on the road. Of course, I had practised in the car before starting in Formula 1 but this is nothing like that feeling.

Looking through my mirrors as I go through turn 6, I spot Ev a little ways behind and send a quick thumbs up to her, hoping that she can see it. "Good pace so far, keep going," Gavern, my race engineer, speaks making me jump for a second from the scare, "Yup, cool," I respond back, "Did I scare you?" He asks making me sigh whilst going through turn 10, "Yes, sorry. I'm gonna get used to that. At some point," As he responds back, he's chuckling making me roll my eyes, "Sorry, good driving though. I'll leave you be for now."

I decide not to respond and keep my eyes ahead of me as I hear other car engines all around the place. Turn after turn, car after car, gear change after gear change. My mind doesn't even get to properly comprehend what I am doing but also it does at the same time as I take each turn so gracefully and precisely whilst using enough oversteer to keep steady and to try not to crash.

This goes on for some time, from what I realise as I have to shake myself back into reality as I got so deep into focus.

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Small time skip

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I stayed out for as long as needed and possible before getting told over radio that, "That's enough information for now, you can pull in and recharge for FP2." And, of course, I listen to the message and pull into the pit lane and see many curious eyes from the other teams garages as I drive by them.

Hopping out of the car after parking the car, I make sure to keep my helmet on before spotting Gavern gesturing me over to him just as Ev pulls in as well and, with a quick wave and thumbs up to her, I hastily walk over towards my race engineer.

Gavern decides to also give me a brief run down on everything that happened during FP1, including the other drivers:

Running wide, Valtteri lost the rear of his Mercedes, narrowly avoiding the wall before executing a nearly perfect hand-break turn.

Alex took a spin exiting turn two damaging both ends of his Toro Rosso, not the start he was hoping for.

Daniel was wearing Aussie themed boots and has a new helmet design but was only in P19 in FP1.

Drivers kept driving through the dirt.

Lewis placed P1 in FP1.

Ev placed P17 in FP1.

And I placed P14 in FP1.

It's now some time until FP2, and I need a rest. I'm all sweaty and puffed out for now. But, I can do this. I'm already up high in the grid, but it is also on FP1 so, drivers could be hiding their true talents.

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Next chapter

Part 5: Being written now

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Authors note:

Hey everybody! I am so sorry for being off the grid lately but I started my holidays around 13 days ago and just wanted a bit of a break. But, I am back now and I hope that you enjoyed this chapter as much as I enjoyed writing it. The next one will include both FP2 and FP3 so let me know if you lot would like a sneak peak of that once I start writing it! Also, I'll be putting up a poll as well after this, so, look out for that! Anywho, enough from me, cya next time!

Tag list

@chaoswithus

[sugarbooger513]

My Little Muse...

I'm resurrecting my blog god damn it. I've been obsessing over DBD (especially the killers). I decided to start with one of my favorite people's favorite killers as a comfort... But be ready for smut >:)

Word Count: 1.4k

Content warning: Jake is a dick, no it is not canon 100 percent, mentions of death, murder, blood, it's based off of a horror game.

Reminder that I do have a taglist. If you'd like to be added it is on my pinned post, and I will provide the link here

The generator sparks a few times, showing promise. You can hear Dwight let out a sigh of relief. 

“How many are left? Two?” 

Before you can answer, Jake does. “Something like that. I think Meg is still-” 

All at once, your fingers slip on the wire and the generator gives that loud bang that alerts everyone in the swamp. 

Jake instantly turns to you, yelling loudly. “What the fuck, Y/N?!” 

“I-I didn’t-” 

“You just lead that damn killer this way! Are you stupid?! You better fucking take chase so the rest of us can get out!” 

“Hey!” Dwight is quick to growl at Jake and his explosive attitude. “Calm down, we all mess up the generators from time to time.. Oh shit, quiet!” 

Your body shakes as you crouch, slowly walking with Dwight. It doesn’t take long for you to see the killer of today’s trial. The Oni, Kazan Yamaoka, stands with his back to you. Behind his broad shoulders, his long, white hair blows behind him. In a way, a very terrifying way, it’s beautiful. 

“Y/N, stay quiet..” Dwight reaches towards you, gently grabbing your hand to comfort you. “Get to another generator, I’ll take chase.” 

“What?!” You hiss at him. “Dwight, you’re a smart man, don’t do something so stupid! Oni is ruthless!” 

“You’re better at the generators, and I’ve been in these trials since the start.. Let me deal with him.” He smiles kindly at you, as he always does. Even at the campfire, he’s the first survivor to smile at you like that. “Go. I’ll see you when this is over, okay?” 

He doesn’t give you time to argue, and he instead gets up from where he’s crouched. He flashes his flashlight at Oni, catching the killer’s attention. Dwight’s eyes widen and he takes off in a sprint. 

You swear the ground even shakes with fear as Oni runs by your hiding spot. When the heartbeat in your ears calms down, you stand up and start to walk towards the next generator. 

It takes everything in you to ignore the blood curdling scream that you hear. 

You hit your knees as soon as you get to the generator. Luckily for you, this had already been worked on. Ignoring the splash of blood across the metal, you rip open the flap that holds the wires. 

Your hands tremble as you grab two wires. No no.. don’t listen don’t listen.. I can’t let Jake’s dumbass get in my head.. All four of us will get out.. We will we.. we.. 

Tears form in your eyes as the generator starts to roar to life. Somewhere in the distance, another scream is heard, along with the all too familiar rumble of the entity claiming someone else. 

The generator turns on, flashing a bright light as the alarm goes off, signaling that the exit gate can be opened. However, you just sink to the ground. Finally, the tears you were holding back start to drip down your face. One turns into two, which turns into waterfalls cascading down your cheeks. 

You don’t even bother to move when your heart starts to pound. 

You can hear heavy breathing directly behind you, even hear the soft dripping of blood as it falls from him and onto the grass below. 

Despite your trembling, you turn your head up and meet his glowing red eyes from behind his mask. The burgundy mask only serves to make his eyes that much more intimidating. 

However, all he does is stand in front of you, staring. He doesn’t even lift his sword. 

What is he doing? 

There’s no point in running, no point in fighting. He will catch you, and there’s no doubt that he will win. You do the only logical thing you can do in this situation. More tears stream down and you find yourself bowing, hoping that he’ll hook you quickly and get it over with. 

However, it never comes. The Oni lifts his blade and places it back in his sheathe. 

“..Sit up.” His voice is ragged, tired even. You quickly follow his instructions, sitting up and staring at him with wide eyes. 

His large hand comes down, gently wiping a tear from your face. “I did not cause this.. Who?” 

“..You can talk?” 

If you didn’t think you were crazy before, you certainly are now because you swear he chuckles at your stupid question. “Of course.. But most of the time I am.. Working. Now, why the tears?” 

“I.. It’s stupid. Why aren’t you putting me on a hook?” 

“Would you like me to do that? I’m sure it hurts.” 

“No! No I.. you just.. Are you showing mercy?” 

“You ask a lot of questions to a killer..” 

“..right.. One of the other survivors got mad at me for screwing up a generator. I did it one time! I’ve covered his ass in so many trials and it just.. Well it isn’t a good time for me either..” 

He clears his throat a bit and hums. “Yes I could uh.. Smell that.” 

Your face instantly goes hot in embarrassment. “E-excuse me?! You could smell it?!” 

“..My entire thing is going into a blood fury.. Do you assume I can’t smell a woman’s menstrual cycle?” 

Somehow, your face goes even hotter. “..Okay you might have a point..” 

“Besides, I used to be considered human. I’ve been around women, and there are little things you do to hint when you’re on your cycle. The random crying doesn’t help your case.” 

“It wasn’t random! Jake was being an ass and I’m tired of it! ..I’m just.. Tired.” 

“..I understand. The entity is ruthless, but at least dying in a trial doesn’t mean staying dead. You’ll see your friends at your campfire.” 

“I guess so.. So,” you stand up now, sighing, “I guess time is up? Go ahead and hook me.. I can’t outrun you anyways.” 

He sighs, now bending down a bit to pick you up bridal style. You gasp, but don’t fight. In fact, you find yourself leaning into his broad chest. The warmth that radiates from his body soothes your aches and pains, and brings comfort to your exhausted mind. 

“..Don’t get too comfortable. We’re almost to the hatch.” 

“Hatch?! You’re.. Why are you letting me leave?” 

He hums, not looking at you as he walks. “Your day has been enough hell. A hook on you won’t make me feel good anyways.” 

“Do.. do all of the killers have that same mindset?” 

“Not at all, but most of us certainly have our favorites out of you survivors. Now, whether that means they get mercy or even more brutality is dependent on the killer.” 

“..Does this mean I’m your favorite, Oni?” 

He snorts a bit. “I certainly enjoyed slicing your friends.. Especially the one who made you cry. He died by my hand this trial.” 

Your eyes widen. “So.. you knew?” 

“I had my eye on you the entire time, little prey. You just didn’t know it.” 

“B-but.. How?” 

“I chased you in the start and let you stun me with that pallet. After that, you were oblivious to my terror radius for some time. It gave me plenty of time to chase down that other girl and then find you.” 

You sink back into his hold, pondering his words. “That’s.. Incredible.. And terrifying.” 

“Good. It should be. Now,” he gently sets you on your feet, motioning to the open hatch, “get out of here. Go make sure your friends are back to the campfire.” 

“..Thank you, Oni.” You smile at him, feeling a bit lighter than you have all day.

“..Please, call me Kazan.. When it’s just us, of course.” 

You nod. “Okay, Kazan. Thank you.” You finally sit down, ready to push yourself into the hatch when he speaks again. 

“Oh, little prey, one last thing.” When you look up, you’re shocked to see him removing his mask. HIs eyes glow that crimson color still, but it seems a touch more dull against his skin color. He grins, revealing his sharp canines and almost scarily perfect smile. 

“Do keep this a secret.. I’d hate for my favorite prey to become someone else’s muse..” 

Taglist:  @katgalle, @kentosovertime, @roughwithfluff, @xxblissfullxx, @unordinaryolivia

[savs-sims98]

Astarion Gets His Wings

Premise: Sylvannah wakes up in the morning and cannot seem to find her vampire partner. Until she spots a pair of white fuzzy ears🦇

Astarion X OC

| 18+, Batstarion, fluff, Astarion, Vampire lover, light smut |

⋆♰꒷🦇🍷‧꒷꒦♰⋆

Sylvannah and Astarion had fallen asleep in her tent the past evening. She woke up to the sound of birds chirping and water rushing nearby. As she rolled over her bright red hair fell in front of her face, and moving it revealed that her love had exited the tent.

She made her way out seeing Shadowheart and Gale working on breakfast together. Sylvannah could see everyone performing their morning routines, but Astarion was nowhere to be seen.

"Hey, Shadowheart have you seen Astarion? He's not in my tent and I don't believe he is in his either." Sylvannah asked in a worried tone.

"He is probably out hunting, I don't think bacon is his style." Shadowheart joked. She could tell her friend was concerned.

Sylvannah decided to go back to her tent and take a moment to think. Slowly opening her tent door she saw an odd sight. Two little ears were poking out behind a pillow. They were white and fluffy; white like Astarion's hair she thought to herself.

Carefully she reached out to grab the pillow and move it over. She could see a bat! A white bat with a cute button nose. As the bat peered at her his red eyes softened and his ears fluttered.

"Astarion, is that you?" she picked him up and lifted him into eye view.

He squeaked at her and shook his head up and down. She slowly reached out to examine his wings and his ears. Then she moved to his little paws. He continued to look up at her as she checked him for any injuries.

“Well, you’re in good shape! I am concerned though as to why now, of all times in your life, you decided to change into a bat?” She chuckled waving her hand around dramatically.

He lifted his white wings and shrugged his little shoulders. Sylvannah took him out of her tent and out to the rest of the group.

Everyone was just as puzzled as her but was not entirely surprised because Astarion was a vampire. For the rest of the day, he stayed perched on her shoulder. He would sometimes nuzzle his nose against his love's neck and nibble at her.

"Are you hungry, my love?" Sylvannah asked grabbing his small body in her hands to face him.

Astarion shook his head eagerly. His fangs bared as he jumped up a little in her palm. She giggled and ruffled the soft fur on his head.

"Alright, let's get you something to sink those teeth into."

__________________

Sylvannah excused herself from the group. She let Karlach, Shadowheart, and Gale know Astarion was hungry and couldn't hunt alone. When she had decided they were deep enough into the woods she set him down on a fallen log.

Astarion spread his wings wide and twirled around stretching. He plopped down on the log. Sylvannah could see him smile happily showing his fangs.

She turned to him grabbing her bow and some arrows from her pack. "Stay right there, I'll be back with some lunch."

He waited patiently. He knew his love was an excellent hunter, so he wouldn't need to wait long. As he sat, he took a moment to examine this new frame. His body was quite small in this form, which could benefit the rogues when needing to get into tight spaces. Then he looked at his wings.

Sylvannah had expressed that he stayed seated, but he had to give these wings a test. He stood and started to flap them lightly. He jumped, and as he did, he worked to glide himself upward. Astarion was soaring around the trees. This was incredible! The wind felt amazing and he could see far into the woods.

As Sylvannah approached with a few dead rabbits she could see him flying. He spotted her quickly and landed back on the tree trunk. He shook his ears playfully and posed. She set down the rabbits in front of her vampire. Sylvannah clapped her hands and shouted.

"Bravo! You're a natural Astarion." as she stated this he did a little curtsey showing off.

Astarion got down off the log and grabbed hold of one of the rabbits with his claws. He sank his teeth into the neck of the animal. She watched as he got his fill. It made her giggle to see the blood on his face. He would need to be cleaned off once they got back to camp.

__________________

The two arrived back to camp a little later than the other three. Sylvannah wanted to give Astarion proper time to get used to his little body. She couldn't tell how long he would be stuck like this.

Now they were settled in her tent. She had a washcloth and she gingerly cleaned the blood from his face. He squeaked lightly and smiled at her. He looked up at her with big eyes. Once she was finished she laid down on her bedroll. She motioned for Astarion to come lay on her.

He jumped down from a pillow and made his way over to her left leg. Astarion grabbed hold carefully and started to crawl up her leg. She laughed at the tickle of his claws on her skin.

However, something odd was beginning to happen. There was a black bubbly mist around his body. As it started to take hold he glowed red and transformed back into the form everyone knew.

He landed on his love grabbing hold of her hips. His head had conveniently landed right between her breasts. Astarion looked up at Sylvannah; fangs bared. He had the most coy look on his face. Sylvannah blushed hard noticing he was completely naked. She looked over at the pillow she had found him on that morning. His white shirt and brown pants sat next to it on the ground.

"Well, hello beautiful!" he purred grabbing her frame tighter and lifting his mouth to her neck.

Astarion hovered his lips over her neck and breathed heavily. Then he worked to her ear and whispered.

"I appreciate you hunting for me darling, but I would much rather taste you."

Sylvannah shook her head and he plunged his fangs into her smooth skin. Oh, he loved it, the way his partner squirmed beneath him. As he drank the sound of her beating heart became clear. It was all Astarion could hear. Steady compared to his heavy beating heart. He was becoming hard and he could feel his cock press up against her thigh.

As her blood made its way into his mouth he moaned into her neck. Gulping down her essence. She was sweeter than any other blood he could dine on. Feeling Sylvannah's frame become hot with pleasure he used his tongue to lap up the blood and lick her neck. His cool hand stroked her warm cheek. Then it slinked its way into her shirt. Astarion worked to cup her tits.

Then he worked down her emerald frame to her thigh. He had been grinding into her thigh, but he wanted to taste it.

"Sylvannah you are exquisite. Each part of you is a different experience on my pallet." he breathed out.

Now he was on his knees. He lifted her thigh up against his body and reached down to cup her face in his hand. He wanted to take in the sight of his beloved.

Sylvannah breathed heavily looking at him with hooded eyes. Her braids had become a mess. Astarion trailed his eyes down to her hips. As her skirt fell to reveal her heat, he could see her drenched panties.

Moving at a rogue's pace he let go of her face still holding eye contact. Slowly he got her thigh in position to feed. It amazed Sylvannah to see him this way. Feeding with one hand; the other found solace in her wet folds. Astarion pushed her panties to the side and worked fast circles on her clit.

Astarion unlatched gasping and giggling in delight. He was more than just hard now. Astarion had noticed that his shaft had become slick with come. He turned to face her body and grabbed her skirt yanking it past her ass.

Once she was completely naked he got on top. The head of his hard cock pressed against her clit begging for entrance.

"Astarion, my gods put it in! I need to feel you come in me." Sylvannah whimpered grabbing his white curls and kissing him passionately.

"Look at us both darling, a hot mess. I want nothing more to come in you." He groaned as he made his way back to her neck. Blood trickled down his chin.

As he lined up and started to enter his love. He gingerly licked the spot on her neck where he had just fed; placing kisses. Somehow she knew he was saying thank you. Astarion moaned as he was deep inside. He held her close and made tender slow love.

His fangs re-entered that soft spot on her neck. Gliding in effortlessly now that the skin had been broken. Pumping faster he could feel Sylvannah start to come. She was panting as her walls went slack. Her come flowed out coating Astarion's cock.

So close. He was so close. Astarion's bucking became erratic as he drank deep for the final time. He was coming filling his love with hot ropes.

Sylvannah grabbed his head in her hands as he continued to thrust. She placed soft kisses all over his face and he moaned loudly. There was something behind his tone that sent her over the edge again.

"I love you, dear gods I love you so much. Please hold me." she cried out as he watched her come.

Shocks of pleasure and happiness overtook his body. Her allowing him to be intimate with her in this way made his heart sore. The fact she trusted him not to feed too deep. He watched Sylvannah as her mouth hung open, her chin almost touching her chest. He kissed her forehead and rode out her orgasm with her. She could see his ears flutter in happiness. The usually white tips had turned pink; blushed from pleasure.

When he could tell it was all over he helped Sylvannah onto her side and moved to spoon her. He lifted his hand up and licked his thumb. Astarion used his thumb to clean up the dried blood on her neck. The movement reminded Sylvannah of a mother cleaning dirt off her child's face. It was a gentle feeling that made her smile. Astarion really was such a sweetheart.

"Thank you Sylvannah. This is a gift and I treasure the time we spend together. I know I say it often, but I cannot thank you enough for the love and kindness you show me each day." Astarion said as he wrapped his arms around her freckled body.

He pulled her as close as he could get and placed his chin in the crook of her neck.

"Mine" he breathed out in content nuzzling his face against hers.

"Astarion you are so sweet. You deserve to be treated with kindness. No matter what your mind ever tries to tell you. Know that my heart sings out to you; no matter what."

They continued to lay together the rest of the evening. Sylvannah listened to him talk. Astarion held her and told her about a few spots he had staked out. There could be some high-quality wine hidden around.

Art credit: Wee babby bay by Gawki @ DeviantArt

⋆♰꒷🦇🍷‧꒷꒦♰⋆

[t4tlottie]

omg first kiss with mermaid natalie!! she’s such a cutie and wouldn’t expect it at all- doesn’t really know what to do right away but very soon eases into it

it happens on your first date when she makes all the other mermaid yjs exit the cove so she can have alone time with you, they tease her about it so much but nat is so sassy and probably pulls a prank on them too hehe

and imagine someone walking (swimming?) in, you get soso flustered and she finds it adorable

having the ‘how many other humans have you kissed in here huh?’ teasing conversation with her and she totally says something like hundreds or whatever (it was none lmaoo)

her tail flapping around when you suddenly kiss her UGHHH. or even better, accidentally falling into the water with her because she's taken by surprise 😭 she lets out a cute little squeak and blushes SOOOO hard.

maybe putting down a blanket so she can lay on her side with her tail out :( showing her all the stuff you got like this mermaid pendant you thrifted or the cupcakes you baked her!! (she's been wanting to try them ever since you explained them to her). which leads to your first kiss? she has some cupcake on her lip and it's distracting you like crazy so why not just kiss it off? you were going to kiss her for the first time before you left here today anyway, so why not have it be now? perfect opportunity!

she feels her whole body seize up as you plant your lips on hers, and she's reminded that she does NOT know how to do any of this as she stays completely still. she's trying to follow your lead so she doesn't look completely lost, and soon gets into a nice rhythm. nat who has those typical sharp mermaid nails and accidentally scratches you with them when she tries to pull you in deeper cuz she's getting desperate :3 maybe that's when tai swims in (she was dared to by van) and catches you on top of nat which then causes to push you off and you just end up tumbling into the water with her 😭

"How many other humans have you kissed in here then?" you tease, giving Nat a shit-eating grin. "Oh, fsshh," Nat waves her hand around. "Hundreds maybe. Yeah, I was a bit of a player before I met you." "Oh yeah? That explains your great kissing skills." You giggle as Nat splashes water on your face and your grin grows wider. There's a dark red blush growing on her neck and you find it cute. "Don't worry, you can always practice more with me." "Shut up," Nat mumbles, feeling embarrassed. She dips her head low as you swim closer to her until she can feel your breath hit her lips. She can see you tilt your head, trying to get her to look up at you. "You should stay here. At least until you dry off. I can use my powers to dry you off quicker if you want." "No, I wanna stay longer."

[teamfortraven]

Caine flusters you to death idk

^ The exact file name on my computer, by the way.

This is an SFW tickle fic! Don't read if you don't like it. Also shout out to the three different references to the TADC fan song "No Exit" that I put in here :]

2,571 words.

I paced angrily out of the main room in the tent, hands curled into fists at my sides as I left my fellow circus members behind. There were no words that could describe how frustrated I was, how confused, and, though I’d never admit it, how scared. My eye twitched at the familiar sound of a long coat flapping behind me.

“Leave me alone, Caine”, I snapped, continuing towards my room. The floating ring master was not so easily deterred and continued after me, however, keeping up with no effort.

“Come on, (Y/N), it was just one time! I know you don’t like the dark, but-“

“Correction.” I spun on my heels to face him, becoming even more annoyed with the way he loomed above me in superiority. “I hate the dark. There is nothing I hate more than the dark. And what did you do?” I crossed my arms and looked at him expectantly. He blinked as he stared at me, a few seconds passing, as if he had to process that I was actually demanding an answer from him.

“It was an adventure for everyone!” He immediately defended himself, still in that jovial tone he used to announce everything. “Not everyone is going to agree on what type of adventure they want to go on-“

“Anything! Anything else!” I threw my hands up in exasperation as he looked shocked that I had cut him off. “Anything but a power outage! I can’t even begin to tell you how horrifying that entire experience was!” I made drastic hand motions at him as I rambled angrily, his hands falling to his sides limply as if he was at a loss for words. “These adventures are supposed to be fun and distracting, Caine! You failed.” I pointed a finger at him accusingly, hoping to really drive the point home.

He gasped in exaggeration, putting a hand to his chest. “I… failed?” His eyes glanced around rapidly, his thoughts clearly racing. I nodded in affirmation; there wasn’t much I could do to show him how serious I was, but hurting his ego definitely helped me feel better.

“Yep, you failed — you had one job, Caine, and you couldn’t even do that right.” I began turning, throwing him a look over my shoulder as he continued to spiral. “So, if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to be in my room until I feel better.” I paused, giving him one last angry glare. “Which will probably be a very long time.” He locked eyes with me one more time before I turned and opened my door a few feet down the hall, making sure to slam it.

I sighed and fell backwards onto my bed once I had locked it, eyes squeezing shut. I hardly ever liked Caine’s adventures… some of the others seemed to genuinely enjoy them, but I did not. All they were to me were distractions; they were definitely something I appreciated and subconsciously looked forward to, given their quality of keeping our brains from actively melting into goop, but they were never fun for me, especially this time around. Running around in the dark for god knows how long trying to find a generator sounded like something straight out of a horror game, and he thought that would be fun?

“Stupid dentist model”, I muttered, eyes slowly opening.

“That’s a little rude, don’t you think?” I gasped and sat up in shock as I was met with his multicolored irises; he was floating right above me, and a little too close for comfort, at that.

“Caine, what the hell are you doing in here?” I demanded, slowly calming down from the unwelcome surprise. “I wanted to be alone, if I hadn’t made that clear!”

“Well…” He floated back a few feet, twiddling with his thumbs as he glanced away. He almost looked… nervous? “I felt bad for how I made you feel with the last adventure, so…” He looked back up at me, arms folding behind his back. “I figured I would come and fix the problem!”

“What…?” I paused, eyes narrowing at him. “Fix how?”

“By comforting you, of course!” He floated a little closer, his confidence seeming to return. I watched him nervously; ‘comfort’ could be practically anything in his book.

“You’re avoiding my question”, I said quickly, my eyes never leaving him as I withdrew my arms close to my chest. “What are you planning on doing?”

I merely blinked at him as he halted right where he was and put his arms out invitingly… oh.

“A… hug?” I scoffed without thinking about it, trying to collect my words as he looked taken aback by my reaction. “Look, Caine, I uhh, really appreciate the offer, but I’ll be fine. In fact, umm, I already am fine!” I forced a smile, eyebrows furrowed together regardless. I felt myself begin to sweat as he glanced me over; it was nerve-wracking knowing he was analyzing every single part of my body language.

“It would appear you’re lying, my dear; no need! I can surely have you feeling better in no time!” I sighed in defeat as he put his arms back out completely, nodding at me. It looked like he wasn’t going away until he was sure he had fixed what he had done. In all honesty, I had already forgiven him; he was strangely charming in his own goofy little way. I really couldn’t stay mad at him for long. Plus, I guess I wouldn’t mind a hug…

“Alright”, I finally muttered, putting my arms out in turn.

I squeaked in surprise as he suddenly picked me up, squeezing me and subsequently cradling me in his lap. I hesitantly looked up at him; sometimes I wished he blinked. I slowly wrapped my arms around him, hugging him back. It was… nice. But after only a brief moment, he pulled back, still keeping me in his arms, studying me.

“What are you doing?” I was more confused than anything, but the sentence still began with a stutter, which again appeared to ring alarm bells in his head.

“Hugging does not appear to be enough, so I’m just testing something to see if this method is an option”, he said blatantly. I jumped as he suddenly poked me in the side; I immediately covered the area on reflex, my other hand grasping his wrist. I realized my mistake too late as I looked up and saw him appear to smile.

“Ah! Perfect! Then I should have no trouble cheering you up at all!”

“Wait!” I said in panic as he suddenly positioned his hand in a clawing motion just above my stomach, struggling to get out of his grip as he held me against him.

“You’re confusing me a bit”, he said, cocking his head to the side. “You ask for me to stop, and yet you’re still smiling. Having some mixed emotions?”

I realized I was, in fact, smiling, which was apprehensive to the idea of what he was planning on doing, and also just from nervousness.

“I’m just… I…” I struggled to find words, too flustered to outright say anything.

“You’re just… what?” He paused before he started slowly wiggling his fingers just above me, to my horror. “Maybe this will help you speak your mind?”

“Wait, no, I just-“ I shrieked as he tapped my stomach a few times, hands flying to grasp his wrist once again. “I’m just embarrassed! This is just really embarrassing, okay?” I rushed the words as he showed no signs of stopping, holding back nervous giggles.

“You do appear to be embarrassed, yet also conflicted. Going to push my hand away or just stay posed like that?” He stared at me expectantly, his hand frozen against me. I glanced around, fingers twitching against his arm as I struggled to accept that that was true. It had been a very, very long time since anyone had ever given me affection like this before. What was worse, that didn’t even account for the affection I probably lacked before I joined the circus. Given how easily flustered I was, it was obvious this was all foreign to me. I forced myself to look him in the eyes, only curling in on myself even more as I could tell the bastard was still reading me like a book.

“I…” I swallowed nervously. “I just… I’ve never had…” I found myself unable to look at him, or even continue speaking. There was something buried that felt dangerously close to the surface that I just couldn’t remember – something painful. My smile left my face.

“Oh, sweetheart…” My eyes widened at the sudden nickname, head swiveling to look at him.

“You don’t have to admit it!” I hid my face in my hands as he began slowly dragging a single finger across the front of my body in lazy patterns. “It’s obvious this is a… sensitive subject for you.” I could’ve screamed when he made that stupid pun, only leaning further into him in an attempt to hide.

“If you tell anyone…” I started, muffled by my hands. I shrieked as he suddenly squeezed my side, interrupting me.

“Tell anyone what, my little possession?” The mocking tone of his voice took me by surprise.

“Tell anyone that I… e-enough with the nicknames!” I squeaked, kicking my legs in reflex as he traced across my ribs.

“Tell anyone that you like being tickled?” He said the word with such ease that I gasped, staring at him. He looked down at me for a moment and I could see the gears in his head turning as he read my expression. Then, appearing to smirk (as much as giant teeth can), he snapped his fingers.

“Oh! Embarrassed by the word, hmm?” I rapidly shook my head, to which he only continued to stare, obviously not buying it. “So you are!” He sounded delighted, and I groaned, hiding my face again.

“So don’t say it!” I muttered, my voice sharper than I meant for it to be. I became incredibly suspicious as he went silent, so I looked up at him again. That same blank gaze was returned to me, unmoving.

“Tickle.”

I blinked in surprise before I attempted to sternly tell him off. “H-Hey! What did I just-“

“Tickle, tickle, tickle!” I screeched as he suddenly dug his fingers into my ribs, his other hand that was supporting me scratching under my arm. I struggled to pry his hands from my body, finding that he wouldn’t move at all. I quickly fell into helpless laughter, legs kicking.

“C-Caihaine stahap!”

“Stop what?” He said nonchalantly, feigning ignorance.

“You know exAHACTLY WHAHAT-“ I nearly shrieked as he pinched between my side and hip, squirming in his lap.

“Oh! Is this a bad spot?” I nearly fell into hysterics as he repeated the action as fast as possible.

“Just not- NOT THEHERE-“ I struggled to finish a single sentence, especially when he started rapidly switching places, a loose yet determined grip on me to prevent me from moving very much.

“Where’s this loud voice when you’re performing, my little superstar?” If I could’ve cursed him out for the snide comments he continuously made, I would have.

“Quit it!” I struggled to annunciate through a stream of giggles and my flustered complexion, his hand trailing down to my stomach, drawing more bubbly noises from me.

“Oh, you circus members are always SO delightfully predictable”, he mused, his hand jumping around to a few different spots, gauging my reactions with robotic precision. “Always leaving your weak spots open!”

“Y-You’re so bahackhanded!” I squeaked before finding myself thrashing in his grip and practically snorting.

“Hmmm, I have to disagree there. I’m much more front handed when it comes to playing with my performers! Are you seeing my point of view here?” He suddenly stopped only to wiggle his fingers in front of my face, eliciting nervous giggles as I sank even further into his lap in a subconscious attempt to keep them away.

“No response? Well, at least I know how to make you smile, right?” He moved to squeeze both of my sides at once before spidering; I somehow seemed even more trapped now than I was before, so I opted instead to cover my heated face rather than attempt to escape.

“Careful not to blush too hard… your facial polygons are getting artifacts, dear.”

“Ahand whose fault is thahat?!” I exclaimed, squealing as his hands began traveling up and down, definitely feeling the artifacts forming now if I hadn’t before.

“I’m only cheering you up! You’re the one that chose to be this sensitive…”

“IT WASN’T A CHOICE!” I protested through laughter. It was more than embarrassing to know this AI was managing to tease me into oblivion, able to manipulate my reactions like a puppet on a string. Worst of all, he was cheering me up, and pretty soon I would have to genuinely ask for it to end before he got suspicious-

“So, having second thoughts? Is this method working? Five star review?” He continued reciting practical nonsense, his fingers not missing a beat on wiggling into any hyper-sensitive areas they could find.

I realized it was pointless trying to cover it up; he already knew I was enjoying it. I’d just be prolonging the amount of sarcastic questioning I’d experience, which he’d then accuse me of also liking. I struggled to think of words, any words, while he practically played me like an instrument.

“Okay, OKAYHAY! IT WOHORKED ALRIGHT? NOW STAHAP!” I was surprised when he did finally pause, drawing me just a bit closer, those grotesque eyes within his jaws studying me briefly before he scooped me up, setting me back on the bed and then zooming into the air in front of me.

“I’m just messing with you! Of course it worked! That method has yet to fail me!” I wondered how many other performers he had done this to when he accidentally upset them…

While I was lost in thought, he floated closer, and I came back to attention to find him staring inches from my face. I drew back a bit in surprise before he spoke.

“Still embarrassed by it? Don’t be!” He punctuated his exclamation with a fancy spin. “Just don’t think about the fact that I could hold this above your head forever and there’s nothing you can do about it – it’s that simple!”

I groaned and set my flustered face in my hands… At least the artifacts that formed seemed to have mended themselves. “Right, Caine, that simple…”

I felt a hand gingerly set on my shoulder and looked back up.

“That… was a joke. I won’t tell anyone, ringmaster’s promise!” He nodded to himself and I smiled slightly.

“...Thank you.”

“Anyways, now that you’re a blushy mess rather than a depressed one, I’ll be on my way! You know where to find me!” He glanced about a dozen different ways, which was concerning but not unexpected, before poofing out of my room with a small eruption of cartoonish smoke.

I laughed a bit to myself after he left, contemplating the whole experience. While he struggled to understand things that were inherently human, it was obvious that he was trying… and, at the very least, I wouldn’t complain if he tried cheering me up that way again. Just as long as the last adventure never repeated itself…

[eclecticqueennerd]

Cat-Tastrophe

Gale/gn!Tav

SFW, no warnings

Tav lay in their combined bedroll in Gale’s tent, clutching their stomach while Gale rubbed small circles on their back. A wave of nausea ripped through Tav, which caused them to reach out to the makeshift vomit bowl to dry heave.

“Perhaps my love, you should stay in camp.” Gale spoke softly. Tav groans and turns to face Gale.

“Ugh, but who’s going to lead the group? The quest and party have already been planned.” Gale reaches forward to place a finger under Tav’s chin to make them look at him. Gale leans forward and places a soft kiss on their sweaty, feverish forehead. He pulls back, eyes brimming with love, adoration, and mild concern for Tav’s current state.

“I’ll carry that burden for you darling. You stay here and rest.”

“Are you sure? You know how Astarion can get when you try to take the lead.”

“My love, anything I can do for you, consider it most enthusiastically done. Let me handle it and all of Astarions… quirks.” Gale huffed out a chuckle while he looked down lovingly at Tav. Tav thought about it for a few minutes, and then another wave of nausea hit.

“Okay.” They said once the impulse to vomit subsided. Gale leaned forward and kissed Tav’s forehead again.

“I love you.”

“I love you too. Be safe out there.”

“I will. Now get some rest and stay hydrated.” With a wave of Gales hand, Tav’s flask filled with water. With a kiss to the top of Tav’s hand, Gale exited the shared tent.

*

Tav dipped in and out of sleep. The setting sun now poured its rays into the tent. Tav cracked their eyes and blinked at the cloth roofing over their head. Overall, they felt much better, but now their body was exhausted from the short-lived stomach bug they had acquired. Turning over in their bedroll, they were met with a view of a long-haired brown and grey tabby curled up sleeping next to their pillow.

“Oh… hello.” Tav uttered. The cats eyes opened and it began purring loudly. Tav sat up and the cat followed suit, leaving the side of the pillow and stretched its way over. The friendly feline approached Tav and rubbed against their side and back.

“Well, aren’t you friendly?” Tav reached out and offered their hand to the cat. The cat leaned forward, licked the side of their finger, and then rubbed the side of its face against Tav’s hand. Tav scratched the cats cheeks and under its chin, while the cat purred loudly, its tail flitting back and forth quickly. Tav gave a few pats to the top of the cats head and then stood up from the bedroll. They opened the tent flap and they heard a long, drawn-out meow. Looking back, they saw the brown and grey tabby cat sitting peacefully a few feet behind them, its eyes slow blinking up at them. Looking around, Tav saw a white, short-haired cat standing in front of them. This cat appeared to be trying to get Tav’s attention.

“Hello to you too.” Tav chuckled as they reached down and offered their hand for an introduction. The white-haired cat hisses and swats at Tav’s hand. Tav pulled back their hand quickly to prevent getting scratched.

“Ah! Naughty little…” Tav quickly stood up as they watched the white-haired cats eyes narrow, it looked like it was about to pounce at Tav. Tav took a sidestep and saw a large ginger tabby cat come trotting up to them, chattering. The new cat rubbed against Tav’s legs, wrapping its tail against them and meowed. Every time the ginger tabby passed in front of the white-haired cat, the white-haired cat would swat and hiss at the ginger tabby. Tav looked behind them and saw that the brown- and grey-haired tabby was now out of the tent, tail curled up next to its side still slow blinking. Then, Tav saw another large, red long-haired cat trotting up,

‘What’s with all the cats?’ Tav asked themselves. It was as if they spoke the question aloud, because Lae’Zel approached and said,

“It appears they’ve been morphed into cats.”

“They?” Lae’Zel rolled her eyes.

“Our companions.” Tav looked at the four cats in front of them. Tav turned their attention to the brown- and grey-haired tabby and asked incredulously,

“Gale?” The cat stepped forward, trilled, and curled its tail in greeting. Tav sighed heavily, placing one hand on their hips and the other on the bridge of their nose.

‘Well, I needed more Speak With Animals potions anyway…’

*This is my first time writing a story where the reader is gender-neutral. I am open to suggestions to allow my writing to be more inclusive but please be respectful. Thank you!*

[echos-of-laughter]

Hey yall, this is my first time writing a fic! I got inspired by this post by @amazingmsme

This fic follows theirs and is Lee!Hermes, Ler!Poseidon.

Again, this is my first fic so idk if it will be the best, but I hope you enjoy!

"For once, I think you're right."

    "Uncle, darling, can't we talk about this?" Hemes pleaded, panic growing as he realized that the only exit was blocked.

    "No, darling, I don't think there is anything to talk about." Poseidon said, lipstwisting into a wicked grin as he put extra emphasis on Hermes favorite nickname.

    Hermes felt his heart racing in his chest as he saw tendrils of water slowly creeping across the floor towards him. He quickly flew into the air using the wings on his ankles and started to look for a way out.

    Suddenly, the tendrils shot forward and pushed him down against the floor. It was as if thousands of gallons of water was bearing down on him at once, he couldn't move a muscle.

    Poseidon walked towards him and spoke, "Now, I was thinking you might prefer a more hands-on approach to the torture I'm going to put you through." He grabbed his trident as he walked and grabbed Hermes wrists through the current to bring them up and away from his body, leaving him defenseless.

    Hermes eyes widened as the trident was pointed at him. "Wait! No!" He pleaded, closing his eyes and expecting pain. However, after feeling the water subside he slowly opened his eyes. He tried to move his arms but found that he wasn't able to bring them down. He looked up and found the trident trapping them in place high above his head. He looked back to his uncle who was looking at him with a sadistic grin. Poseidon slowly walked the few steps towards him and straddled his waist. He lifted his hands and started wiggling his fingers above Hermes' exposed torso, showing what kind of torture he was referring to.

    "Wait! Uncle, is this reheally necessarry?" Hermes asked, accidentally letting a small giggle slip through his lips.

    "Giggling already? I'm not even touching you!" Poseidon teased, "Also, this is absolutely necessary after what you did."

    Poseidon let his hands drop and slowly started spidering his fingers all over Hermes sides. Hermes quickly snapped his mouth shut from the retort that he had prepared in order to keep himself from laughing.

    "Come on nephew, we both know you are going to break, you're way too ticklish not to," Poseidon taunted.

    Hermes cheeks instantly went red as he turned his head away from the teasing gaze of his uncle. "Shut uhup!" Hermes yelled, kicking his feet while his wings desperately flapped to try to get away from the electric sensations coursing through his body.

    Poseidons grin instantly widened. "Why should I? Does it make it tickle more when I mention how ticklish you are?" He teased, emphasizing that horrible word every time he said it and moving his fingers to his nephews ribs.

    "Nohhahahahahahah!" Hermes burst into high pitched giggles at the change of spots along with the teasing words being directed him.

    "Now we're getting somewhere! Listen to those adorable giggles. Let's see if we can make it adorable laughter," Poseidon taunted, smile growing a little softer at the sound of his nephews hysterical giggling. He moved his fingers even further up into the exposed skin of his armpits.

    Hermes face somehow got even more red as his uncles words reached his ears. He desperately tugged on his trapped arms as he swore internally at himself for wearing a sleeveless shirt, fully exposing the skin of his underarms. His laughter ramped up as Poseidon started drilling his thumbs into the center of his armpits.

    "Nohhohoho! Plehehehehease! It tihihickles!" He tried to plead with the elder god.

    "Ha! That's sort of the point." Poseidon laughed at him. "But I don't think that it's enough. Tell me nephew, where are you most ticklish hm?"

    "Lihihike I wohould tell yohohou!" Hermes spoke through his laughter.

    "Then I guess I'll just have to find out myself. Let's see, we've tried the sides, ribs, and armpits." Poseidon mused aloud, scribbling his fingers across each spot as he spoke. "How about here?"

    Hermes suddenly burst into childlike giggles as he felt fingernails swirling all over his neck and ears. His feet kicked out as the fingers scratched along the back of his earlobe.

    "Awww, well that's just adorable but not quite what we're looking for." Poseidon cooed. He moved his fingers down to his nephews quivering belly and Hermes lunched up and started belly laughing.

    "Hahahahah! No! Nohot thehehehre!" He pleaded.

    "Better, but not quite." Poseidon said disinterestedly. He got similar reactions moving down to the younger gods hips, thighs, and knees. However, he noticed his laughter getting more desperate as he approached his nephews wiggling feet.

    "Uh oh, I think I might have found someone's tickle spot!" Poseidon sing-songed as he sat on the youngers calves.

    "NO! No please not there! I'm sorry! I'm so sorry! Anywhere but there! Please uncle, mercy!" Hermes tried to plead.

    "Oh Hermes. Don't you know? Ruthlessness is mercy." And with that, he dug into the soles before him.

    The legs underneath him tugged at their trapped positions as he scratched over the heels, the arches, the balls of the feet, and especially those wiggling toes. He scratched his nails over the pads, underneath, and against the sensitive skin in between.

    While Poseidon was busy with this he didn't even notice his nephews look of shock when he started. He wasn't expecting his uncle to go for his feet, but he's glad that he did. He's hoping that his uncle continues to think that his feet are the worst spot that he has, though if he doesn't stop scratching the spot I between his pinky toe and his fourth toe, he might go insane.

    "NOHOHOHO! NOT THEHEHEHRE! PLEHEHEHEASE PICK SOMEWHEHEHEHHERE EHEHELSE!" The younger god pleaded, desperately tugging on his trapped legs. He almost got his ankles out from his uncle, when all of a sudden the hands moved off his feet to grab at his ankles.

    "And where do you think you're--" He was cut off by a squeal from the wiggling god under him, followed by frantic pleading.

    "AH! No no no no no. Please please. Not there. I will do anything, just not there. Please!"

    Poseidon was confused until he looked down at his hands. They were resting on Hermes' ankles with his thumbs at the joint where his ankle met his wings. Suddenly it clicked. Water swirled around Hermes as Poseidon grabbed his trident from the ground, releasing his arms. However, his relief was short lived as his uncle then placed the trident right below his knees so he couldn't bend them or move his legs at all. He also didn't have the flexibility to reach his ankles from this position, nor the strength to pry the trident from the ground.

    "So, it seems that I was mistaken. Your feet aren't your worst spot. I should have known. These little wings of yours are just begging for some attention. I mean, just look at them flapping, it's like their asking for my fingers to tickle them!" He teased his nephew.

    "Nohohohohoho. Plehehehease. I'll die!" Hermes begged.

    "Oh please, you'll be fine. You'll just laugh, and laugh, and laugh," his wiggling fingers came up, taunting the messenger god, "in three."

    "Nohohohohohoho!"

    "Two."

    "Plehehehehease!"

    "One."

    "Uhhuhuhncle!" Neither of them knew if he was tapping out or begging.

    "Zero." His fingers struck down, raking through the soft feathers and scratching his nails against the sensitive skin.

    Hermes. Went. Insane.

    He instantly fell back and started flopping around like a fish out of water (ironic, huh?). He started cackling so loud that Poseidon flinched.

    "Dam, and to think that one of the mighty gods of Olympus can be defeated just by a few fingers wiggling against his ankles. This is just pathetic." He taunted.

    "NAHAHAHAHAHAH! PLEAHAHAHAHAHAH!" Hermes could barely get a word out with how hard he was laughing. It was as if ticklish lightning was shooting up his legs directly through his nerves.

    His laughter suddenly went silent when Poseidon shifted to scratching at the spot where the wings connected to the ankles.

    Poseidon could tell that Hermes was reaching his limits, and he didn't want to actually kill the young god.

    "Do you apologize for what you have done? Have you learned your lesson yet?" He asked, slowing down to just tracing his ankles so the young god could respond.

    "Yehehehehes! Im sohohohohohory! Plehehehehease! Just stohohohhop!"

    Suddenly the sensations stopped and the trident was pulled from the ground. He instantly brought his knees up to his chest and started rubbing the phantom sensations away from his wings, still giggling.

    A hand appeared in front of his face. He looked up and saw his uncle fondly smiling down at him, offering a hand up.

    "Are you going to survive?" He asked the still giggling god as he helped him to his feet. Hermes legs were a bit shaky so he brought him over to his throne to sit down for a minute and got him some water.

    "I don't know yet, you are ruthless." Hermes replied in his typical dramatic fashion, chugging the water that he was offered.

    "Oh please, you didn't ask me to stop once!" Poseidon taunted, rolling his eyes.

    Hermes face went red as he avoided eye contact, "well, I am the god of mischief. And, besides, games are more fun if they aren't one sided." He suddenly shot up out of the throne.

    "Wait, how long have I been here? I have so many deliveries to make! Dad's going to kill me!" He started panicking as he frantically gathered his items.

    Poseidon stopped him by gripping his wrist, "don't worry about it. I'll tell my brother that I held you up to send messages throughout my kingdom."

    "Seriously? You might just be my favorite uncle after all," He teased.

    "I'd better be," He replied with a smile, squeezing the youngers' side, making him yelp. "Now go do your job, nephew."

    Hermes danced out of the way of the elders fingers and gave him a sarcastic salute, "Yes sir! See you next time!" He said as he flew off to finish delivering the rest of the messages.

    Poseidon watched him go with a fond smile. Though he would take it to his grave, he might just have a favorite nephew.

[mavrintarou]

[4:38 PM] Oikawa Toru [5]

I know, you all have been patient with me on this series. Really want to finish WYE with an explosion lol so please continue to bear with me on that one.

Warning: none, just two humans trying to be better...

Fourth part Sixth part

.

Y/n waited patiently outside their units by the elevator for Toru and Mateo.

At last, their door cracked open and Toru stepped out with Mateo strapped to his chest in a baby carrier facing outward. “Oh!” Toru’s eyes widen, “how long have you been waiting for? You should have come over.”

Y/n smiled, shaking her head. “I wasn’t waiting long, I figured you guys would come out eventually.” She stepped forward and held her hands, “give me the diaper bag, I’ll carry that.”

Toru was reluctant to but gave in. “Thank you.” He turned so Mateo could see her, “say hi, Teo.”

“Hi, Mateo!” Y/n cooed, rubbing his cheek. He smiled bashfully and Y/n spotted a tiny white tooth appearing. “Is that a tooth?”

“Yep, he’s teething and drooling everywhere,” Toru answered, indicating the bib around his neck, was already damp with drool.

She had gone a few days without seeing them but they had made plans to go out to the new restaurant that opened down the street.

Y/n slipped the backpack pack and pressed the button for the elevator, “shall we head down?” Mateo answered excitedly kicking and flapping his arms.

.

Toru reserved a private room that was closed off from the public area. Although he played professional volleyball for another country, Toru held a large enough fan base in his home country. He was often recognized out in public and bombarded with questions and requests for autographs.

Mateo sat in the high chair patiently waiting to be fed by his dad.

Toru’s phone buzzed for the second time after he silenced the first call. He sighed, “do you mind if I take this call?”

Y/n nodded, setting her chopsticks down so she could take Mateo’s feeding spoon and his baby food. “Not at all, go for it.”

Toru gave her an apologetic expression and exited the room before answering the call.

Mateo immediately blabbered, eyeing his food in her hand. “Okay, okay,” Y/n giggled quickly feeding him. “Yummy, right?” He smiled, showing his gummy smile. “Goodness, you’re so cute, Mateo!”

Y/n couldn’t deny that he held a special spot in her heart. She has always been softhearted for babies in general but something about Mateo, he had her wrapped around his chubby tiny fingers.

She wiped his mouth and continued to feed him when Toru reentered the room, she could immediately sense the irritation in him even if he quickly tried to mask it with a smile. “Is everything okay?”

He hesitated but sighed, he took a seat again and wiped Mateo’s mouth. “It was the head coach for Japan’s volleyball team. He’s trying to recruit me to play for them now that I’m back in Japan.”

“You… don’t want to play anymore?” Y/n grabbed Mateo’s cup, giving him some water.

He remained silent for a few seconds before uttering a quiet, “no.” He inhaled sharply, looking at her before continuing, “with the piano, do you ever have moments where you question your passion? Like you’ve plateaued and don’t know where you’re going with it anymore? That’s where I’m at. I don’t know if I just don’t care for it anymore or I’ve done all that I can and I’m ready to start something new now.” Toru lets out a chuckle, “I never thought there would be a day I would say that,” he looked over at Mateo, reaching over to brush his hair, “until this little guy came along. I want to spend as much time as possible with him because I know how hectic it’ll be if I continue to play professionally.”

Y/n nodded, understanding him. “I feel the same way too.”

Toru’s eyes locked with hers, “about your career?” She nodded to his question.

“For a few months now, I’ve been stuck in limbo contemplating what I want to do with my career now. I was blessed to play alongside some of the greatest and most amazing musicians and traveled for my career,” her voice paused as if she was reminiscing on old memories. “I just don’t know what to do anymore.”

Toru nodded, “that’s exactly what I feel too, got to play for an international team and traveled, played professionally… what more do I want or can I do now?”

“Do you feel like… you just need a break? A breather?”

“Yes,” Toru answered with a smile, understanding exactly what she meant. “To be clear, I’m not saying I’m done with volleyball, I think I just need a break like you said. A long break.”

Y/n looked over at Mateo who was blowing bubbles, she smiled lovingly at him before looking at Toru. “Well, if you’re looking for a sign to take one, I’ll be the sign. I give you permission to take a long break, Oikawa Toru.”

Toru’s eyes water as he looks down, chuckling. “Why are you always making me cry, Y/n?”

Y/n’s eyes widen, “don’t cry! I’m not making fun of you, I promise!”

He shook his head, looking up and wiping his tears away. “No, I know you’re not making fun of me, it’s just… you’ve been saying everything that I just need to hear and it’s so relieving. So, thank you. Thank you for giving me permission to take a break.”

. .

Toru came out of the men’s bathroom shortly after he entered and looked at Y/n with a face she couldn’t quite decipher.

“That was… a fast diaper change,” Y/n’s tone was filled with half sarcasm and amusement.

Toru made a face, “I’m really sorry to ask this but the men’s bathroom doesn’t have a changing table…”

“Ah,” Y/n reached for the diaper bag and took Mateo, “come on, Teo – let’s go change your poopy diaper.”

“Thank… you…” he watched the two of them march and disappear into the women’s bathroom happily.

His heart raced with a mixture of emotions. Gratitude welled up within him, an unspoken appreciation for Y/n’s boundless kindness and loving heart. Each passing day seemed to deepen his feelings for her, as he found himself falling for her even more.

Toru knows he shouldn’t, but he can’t resist letting the scenarios in his mind play out temporarily. Observing how wonderfully Y/n interacts with Mateo, he couldn’t help but envision the possibility of them forming a small, loving family.

He doesn’t have the heart to admit how he has been longing to complete his little family and he knows Y/n means no harm by it but he couldn’t help but just wonder… how does she feel?

Will she be willing?

Can she see a future with him and Mateo?

He knows he’s getting ahead of himself and he shouldn’t, he shouldn’t have such expectations. He should just be thankful that Y/n wants to associate herself with them.

“What?...” Toru mumbled when he felt the ground beneath his feet began to tremble. His balance wavered as he swiftly realized that an earthquake was occurring at the very moment.  

Screams and shouts echoed around him as he scanned his surroundings. Cars had come to a halt, and buildings were shaking violently. The tremors beneath his feet intensified, causing windows to shatter and fall from various directions.

“Y/n!” Toru shouted, deftly avoiding falling debris and frantic people in his rush to reach the women’s bathroom. “Y/n!” he cried out, as a group of women inadvertently surged past him in their haste to exit the restroom. Amid the chaos, he was jostled and pushed back from the women’s bathroom, but he stood firm and pressed onward, still shouting, “Y/n!”

“Toru!” He heard Y/n’s scream, “Toru, we’re still inside!”

With no time to spare, he rushed into the bathroom, pushing aside any concern. He advanced further until he turned the corner, where he discovered Y/n hurriedly trying to get Mateo off the small changing table. He swiftly collected Mateo’s belongings and stuffed them into the backpack. “We have to leave quickly,” he urged.

“I think it’s safest to remain here, the walls are cemented and there’s no windows.” She pressed Mateo close to her chest, a protective hand over his head. She looked down at the changing table, “this table is large enough to cover us, we should get under it.”

Toru nodded and followed Y/n who scrambled underneath the table, securing Mateo tightly in her arms.

“Shh, it’s okay baby. It’s okay,” she whispered soothingly as he started to cry. She pulled him tighter in her embrace, murmuring soothing words to calm him.

Toru’s arms enveloped them protectively, drawing them close as the ground shook even more violently than before. Dust and other debris began falling from the ceiling. The lights in the bathroom flickered and then, with a final quiver, lost their connection.

It was the longest few minutes of their lives holding their breath and praying for the earthquake to pass.

The ground had finally grown still, no longer quaking.

“Is it over?” Y/n whispered, her breath unsteady. She looked down at Mateo who calmed down and suckled his pacifier, staring back at her with wide eyes.

A light illuminated the closed-in bathroom as Toru turned on his flashlight on his phone. He looked at Y/n and Mateo before letting out a sigh of relief. “I think so.” He held his phone up, “I don’t have any signal.”

“Cellular towers must be down too,” Y/n shifted Mateo in her arms and gazed at the baby, “are you okay?” Having no clue what he had just gone through, he spat out his pacifier before smiling brightly at Y/n’s words, his dimples appearing on his chubby cheeks. Her heart melted and leaned to kiss his cheek. Her eyes widened for a split second, realizing what she had just done in front of Toru, and blushed, thankful they were still surrounded by the darkness. “We should… probably wait until they give us the green light to leave, we might be best staying here for now.”

Toru sighed and rolled his neck. “Yeah, I agree.” He reached over and let Mateo wrap his chubby fingers around his, “you are a trooper, not even realizing you just experienced your first earthquake.”

“It’s a story we’ll need to tell him later,” Y/n remarked.

Hearing her say ‘we’ll need to tell him later’ caused Toru’s heart to swell to the point of almost bursting. Those were simple words, but they filled him with hope that maybe she would continue to be part of their lives. He smiled as he watched his son burst into laughter while Y/n made funny noises and tickled him.

He swallowed the lump in his throat before uttering the words he’d been dying to say. “I love your interactions with my son.”

Y/n turned her head, eyes wide before she smiled at him, “it’s hard to not adore him, Toru. I enjoy spending time with you two but I hope you don’t think I’m trying to evade your privacy or boundaries. I do – don’t want you to think I’m trying… to be his mother…”

“Can I be completely honest with you?” Toru murmured, gently tucking her bangs behind her ear. When Y/n nodded her head, he smiled warmly. “You are the most incredible female figure Mateo has ever had, and you’ve never crossed any boundaries or invaded our privacy. In fact, I’m sure Mateo agrees with me that we both would love for you to spend more time with us.” He swallowed hard, a lump forming in his throat. “I just want you to know… and I hope what I’m about to say won’t scare you away because I don’t know what Mateo and I would do if you no longer want anything to do with us anymore but I can’t keep it to myself any longer, but God, Y/n, you have no idea how much I wish you were his mother.”

Mateo squealed loudly as if he understood and agreed with his father.

Y/n adverted her gaze momentarily, clearing her throat. “I once heard a quote: ‘Every child deserves a parent, but not every parent deserves a child,’” she began. Then, she turned her gaze back to Toru. “I won’t deny that what you just said caught me off guard, but it certainly didn’t frighten me.” Her eyes met his, silently conveying that she shared his sentiments. “To be completely honest also, I’ve been longing for a child for a few years now,” she admitted. She shifted her focus to Mateo and playfully wiggled his arms. “That’s partly why I lost my passion for the piano. I didn’t exactly know how I was going to make it happen, but…” she chuckled, feeling a rush of embarrassment. “Let’s just say I’ve been on the baby-fever bandwagon for quite some time, and meeting Mateo… it truly was a blessing.”

Toru shifted, sitting with his back against the wall and staring off into the darkness. “It goes both ways, Y/n. You are a blessing to Mateo and me.” He reaches towards Mateo, who instantly grabs a hold of one of his fingers. “I – I was wondering… are you… seeing someone?”

It took Y/n a few seconds before she answered, “no, I’m not. That man you saw the other day was Woojin. He’s also a musician, and that’s how we became acquainted. But that was the last time I’ll be seeing him, we decided to go our ways.”

A small smile appeared on Toru’s lips, his heart was going through all sorts of emotions but at this moment, it was warm hearing Y/n confirm she was not seeing anyone.

“What about you, Toru?” Y/n inquired, “are you seeing someone?”

“No,” he shook his head, “I am not seeing anyone.” His breath trembled and his heart raced as his mind screamed at him, here’s your chance. “Although… I do want to get to know someone.” He glanced at Y/n to see her reaction before continuing, “if I should be so bold as to ask, are you open to seeing someone, Y/n?”

Y/n’s breath quickened, and her heart raced as her mind grappled with how to respond to him. She couldn’t deny that over the past few weeks since she’d met Toru and Mateo, she imagined and daydreamed about what life with them could be like. She also couldn’t deny that after she heard about Lucia, she had secretly wished she could have been the one to carry and give birth to Mateo, the sweet boy in her arms. The idea of considering a man who already had a child with a previous partner had never crossed her mind before, but in this situation, with Toru and Mateo, she realized she wouldn’t mind at all.

She cast him a shy glance, her cheeks tinged with a rosy hue. “If I’m allowed to be as bold as you,” she replied with a hesitant smile, “and if it’s you, then yes, I’d be open to seeing you.” She is immediately hit with the idea that she might have misunderstood his question and she quickly adds rashly, “oh my goodness, I just totally assumed you were referring to… you and I… I’m so emba – “

Her sentence was abruptly interrupted as Toru gently pressed his lips against hers, hushing her words. He gave her lips two tender pecks before pulling back, his gaze fixed on her rosy lips before meeting her eyes. “I’m referring to you and me,” he whispered.

“Toru,” Y/n whispered.

“Yes?”

“Kiss me again.”

His lips curved into a boyish grin before he leaned in, pressing his lips to hers softly. His hand comes to cup her face, taking it slow…

Toru’s breath hitched with Y/n’s mouth shifted and her tongue teased at his lower lip before he smirked and met her eagerness. He did not peg Y/n as one to take the lead in a kiss but he wasn’t going to complain if she preferred it. Cool chills ran down his spine as Y/n let out a soft moan against his mouth and all he could think about was how he wanted to hear more of it.

The moment was interrupted by their phones dinging with a notification informing them of the status of the aftermath. Seconds later, the lights in the bathroom flickered on.

Y/n was the first to pull away and Toru chuckled at the annoyed and slightly disappointed expression that briefly crossed her face. She then quickly averted her gaze, her cheeks flushed with a blush.

Mateo cooed, reminding the two adults that he was still present. He suckled his fingers, drooling everywhere.

Toru playfully poked his son’s cheek, “sorry son, didn’t mean to make you the third wheel.”

.

Upon their return home, they found the apartment building’s management making announcements. They explained that the external structure of the building had not suffered any damage, but this assessment did not extend to the interior structure. Each unit would undergo inspection to ensure it met safety requirements.

As soon as the three stepped out of the elevator, Mateo was sound asleep in Toru’s arm.

“That was quite a day,” Y/n remarked, shifting her weight onto her heels. “Get some rest, and I’ll catch up with you…”

“On a date. I’m going to take you on a date, is that all right?” Toru finished her sentence for her.

Y/n nodded her head, a bright smile on her face. “I’d love that.”

“You go in first.” He jutted his chin towards her door, “have a good night.”

Y/n walked backward, maintaining eye contact with him until she gently bumped into the door. “Good night,” she whispered before disappearing into her unit.

She dreaded the idea of finding her place in disarray after the earthquake but to her surprise, when she reached the living room, only a few items lay scattered on the ground. Her piano was not a concern; she had it secure in place specifically for situations like earthquakes, and there was nothing near it that could have caused damage.

She tossed her purse on the couch and turned her heels to head for the kitchen when she froze and turned her heels 180 degrees.

Her hand covered her mouth as she muttered, “oh my gosh…”

A big portion of the thin wall that separated her unit from Toru had completely collapsed, and as Y/n stood there in shock, she met Toru’s mirrored expression of surprise.

. . .

E/n: Will be back to edit.

@queenelleee @mfreedomstuff @erintaro @callmeraider @chaotic-fangirl-blog @wolffmaiden @cloud-lyy @rukia-uchia-98 @qualitygiantshoepsychic @anejuuuuoy @tooruchiiscribs @mommyourcall420 @haikyuubiggestsimp @lilguycoded @random-734 @ghostlyneckoaftoad @abcde12345 @shotenvinsoot @princess-sunshyn @anonymoussimper @junglewoos

[cherllyio]

The Warrior of Flower Fruit Mountain

This is Macaques design from my Moana AU.

He is currently an enomurs and terryfing Shadow Monster, but he was once Sun Wukongs old "friend", and travel buddy on their many voyages together in the past.

Why is he like this? Well i made little angsty backstory, with clues to what happend to the once great Warrior.

You can read it either here, or on A03 where i also posted it (here)

The Voyager, The Sun and The Monster

Chapter 1 (Prolouge): Drowned by your Love

There is a small island, somewhere in the Pacific Ocean, where both terrifying demons and small monkeys live together. One of these creatures inhabiting the Island, while just as much monkey and demon as the rest, stand outs quite a lot.

He has beautiful silk white hair, six magical ears, that can catch the wind flap of a bird thousands of miles away, and a pair of radiant golden eyes, that will pierce through anyone who dares come near.

His name? Liu Mihou. Also rightfully known as “The Warrior of Flower Fruit Mountain”

On normal circumstances The Warrior would be either be training, gathering food supplies for him and the other monkeys, or making his presence known, to any hostile idiot, dumb enough to try and challenge him. 

But not today. Today, you can find The Warrior in the early morning light, preparing for voyage he is not sure when, or if he will ever come back from.

Yet... The Silk Monkey knows it will be worth it. For the person he is looking for is worth everything, and more, that can be worth something in this world.

 “The King of Flower Fruit Mountain!”, “The great sage equal to heaven!”, “The Monkey King!”. Or, as Mihou knew him: “My Sun”.

Just a few hundred years ago, these two celestial monkeys were sailing through all the great oceans together. Battling through storms, strong enough to destroy entire islands, becoming more powerful than the other demons could ever hope to become, and at the same time forming a bond strong enough, to become something greater than friendship.

Except…that all changed when Sun Wukong started playing against a power, he was not prepared for. The power of the Jade Emperor.

This traitorous act against the emperor, would ultimately end in the great sage’s downfall, where he would be catched and imprisoned by the Buddha himself, and pinned down by his very hand. And now, he was now trapped under “Five Element Mountains”, until an unknown destiny would free him.

Nobody, not even the wisest of the immortals, knew when that day would come.

It’s been 500 years since the great sage’s new destiny, fell upon him. Yet now... he has disappeared.

Mihou didn’t know how or where, or if it was done by fair means or foul. He solely knew that the once immense mountain, that had once sealed away his sun, was now only rubles and ashes of its former greatness.

Initially Mihou had been exited, ecstatic even, about this news. However, he quickly realized that like mountain, the King too was gone.

No messages, no clues, no anything. He was truly… gone... But he wasn’t "gone, gone" that would be crazy! "Sun Wukong, The Great sage equal to heaven" could never, would never.... Yea... His sun is fine, he will surely find him!

Plus, Mihou got all the things he needs to find The King, his magic ears being a big part of it. And then… they can be together again, and everything will be balanced, just like before! After all, how can a moon shine without its sun?

He confidently looks down at his own reflection, his silk white hair and shining ears animated in the cold and radiant water below. Everything is going to be ok.

But then he notices the dark roots crawling up his hair.

Dark roots that are slithering its way inside his silk white hair, like an infection, and turning it as dark as a burned corpse.

And nearly, one thirds of his entire mane can’t reflect any of the suns glow back anymore. And it will never be able to do it again.

For a second, it catches The Warrior off guard, but he really shouldn’t haven’t been surprised by this.

These dark roots have slowly been taking up more and more of his silk white hair, for well… Mihou keeps failing to remember that, but it was before his sun disappeared, he knows that much.

Mihou closes his eyes, trying to push the thoughts back. But instead, an old memory creeps up, and fills his soul with dread.

...

A demon. It attacked them.

They were young, stupid and furthermore in love, and together, they thought nothing could stop. Neither in celestial realm nor on earth.

Sure, Mihou was barely half the power of his counterpart, but that didn’t matter. It never really had mattered. The only thing Mihou and Wukong had ever cared about was each other.

Except, this time, it DID matter. Because… Wukong got hurt. Badly hurt.

There had been so much blood… Macaque could barely look at him… and Mihou had started panicking… while a piercing cry had cut through the air, when his Sun was impaled… The world turned around… everything had become so awfully quiet.

And Mihou had just been STANDING THERE. He had done nothing, but tremoring in horror over the cursed remains that was his dying sun. And then that awful, awful demon that had HURT HIS SUN, started whispering terrible, terrible words in his all too powerful ears…

“Oh, how sad” … “did he mean much too you?” … “What a pity…” … “you should have protected him better then…”

And… He listened. For wasn’t it true?

Wasn’t he the one who now stood beside his fading sun, that could barely light any brighter than the flickers of an ending campfire? Wasn’t he the one who had just been standing by his side, while his sun had worked so hard for everyone. Worked so hard and continued getting stronger. To get strong enough to protect his people. To protect Mihou. And he is now dying for the sake of a six eared demon, that would never be able to pay him back. Mihou hadn’t earned any of that. Wukong hadn’t deserved that. Mihou was a traitor.

The demon didn’t even notice, before it was too late. The demon didn’t even notice, before his insides lay before him, and he lied next to it. The demon didn’t even seem to notice Mihou’s scream of agony and pain, before his soul had already left his body.

Everything after that was a blur.

A blur filled with small glimpses of his dying sun, while an unworthy Warrior had desperately tried to save him.

And when the world finally came back into the view, his sun… His sun was ok. His sun was ok. His sun was ok.

“Sorry I scared you so badly there, my dear moon”, Wukong had said with a sad look on his face. “I must admit, he wasn’t as strong as me, but he sure was clever.” His sun had said with a grin on his face.

And oh… How Mihou could have looked at that smile forever. Yet… he was constantly reminded of what had happened.

If that demon… If that god forsaken demon had been any stronger, just a bit, Wukong…

Mihou couldn’t risk that… Never again would he look at his dying sun, covered in his own torn open flesh and shattered bones. Never again would he hear, Wukong’s breath draw close to its final limit. Never again would The Great Sage be betrayed by his own Warrior, who he thought he could trust to always protect him.

For in The Warriors own eyes, he was a traitor. A foul soul who would simply overserve as a prejudiced destiny would drown out the only spark of hope left for their island and its people.

Hence why Mihou did, what he did next.

On the darkest day of the year, where the shadows rosed higher, than their own creators, Mihou stood in the middle of an abandoned Island. He was hoping for someone who could help. And soon enough, someone rose up. The silhouette of the darkness. A spirit. One made of magic not seen quite often.

“The six eared Macaque asks for my help. Don’t you have enough assistance from the king already?” the spirit remarked in a gravelly, judging, voice, whilst turning itself into a clone of The Great Sage to prove its point.

“Yes, please, I need your wisdom…”

“My wisdom… Well, there sure is a considerably amount of that, you will have to be more specific…”

Even though he knew exactly, what he had been come for, it still took Mihou a few seconds, before he finally answered:

“How do I protect someone, who is stronger than me? How do I make sure, I can help someone, when I barely have the strength of the wind, against a storm coming their way?”

Mihou could feel small tears starting to pierce through his eyes, yet he did little to stop them. “How do I make sure, I don’t betray the people I love, when they need me the most?”

The silence after that was barely enough time for the water to hit shore in its never-ending rhythm. Despite that, it had felt like millions of winters and summers had already passed, by the time the silhouette finally spoke again.

“There is one way….”

Mihou looked up.

“However, as all things, it comes with great consequences.”

“I will do anything, please! Just tell me what I need to do!”

The silhouette seemed to watch him like a hawk.

“You are more stupid than you look, Warrior of Flower Fruit Mountain.”

The shadow started morphing into something else.

“Liu’er Mihou, for my power you need to know. This power requires the utmost control. One step aside could lead you drowning in its pit, leaving you only as host to submit.”

The shadows showed The Warrior consumed by shadows, until there is no light left in him.

Mihou took a deep breath.

“How can I control it then?”

“Warrior, only destiny will be your reaper.”

It morphs back into its normal silhouette.

“Now… do you accept this power?”

Mihou, looking back, should probably have thought it more through. But back then, the guilt and love for his Sun had been so strong, it had almost blinded him.

“I do, I accept it.”

And then everything went black.

...

Hundreds of years later, Mihou still doesn’t know, how or when he ended back on Flower Fruit Mountain.

But that didn’t matter. The only thing that mattered then, was the power he had now. The power to protect the island, its monkeys and… his sun.

Wukong was skeptical at first, luckily the King had always been more of the oblivious type, so he quickly started to pride the new power as much as Lihou used too.

The newfound power Liu’er Mihou had gained were shadow powers. He could manipulate, create or absorb any shadow as he pleased.

This power also made it easier for him to learn the “72 transformations”, which Wukong had already learned hundreds of years ago, since Mihou could “copy” them using his shadow powers, until he didn’t need Wukong by his side anymore to do it.

Though, as all things, it wouldn’t last long until he learned the consequences of his choices firsthand.

Wukong and Mihou had been fighting a demon, who was stronger than what they were used to, but they had been fighting a lot of them recently, anyway. However, for just a second, Macaque had become cocky, and his let the shadow powers run free to devour their enemy whole.

Expect, after the fight was over, Macaque noticed the dark hair for the first time.

It had been small at first, barely noticeable, but with every “slip up” it had gotten more and more noticeable.

It wasn’t just if he got cocky in battle. If something had hurt him mentally, it would also grow. Which, when Wukong got trapped under the mountain… The infection had grown to the length of two small snakes crawling up his legs and arms in just a few hours.

Moreover, when they got into a fight while Wukong was trapped… The fur on his legs was almost completely black.

So, the 500 years that had slowly been passing by had been both a physically and mental war in his head, that from each day that had went by got closer and closer to winning…

The lack of a king also meant that more demons had started to attack Flower Fruit Mountain, therefore Macaque had to use way more power than usual, which would just make the curse worse...

And then every night, if it was a quiet one, he would cry himself to sleep, in his now empty nest.

Yet, as the black fur was getting dangerously close to his heart, which Mihou did not want to find out what happened if it reached it, there was… hope.

Wukong was free now after all!

Mihou was so sure, that as soon as they found each other again. When he could finally embrace that golden fur again, everything would be fine.

And as Mihou looked down the boat, now ready for the long voyage ahead, he felt A hope rise in his chest, for the first time in these 500 years.

Everything will be ok; nothing bad ever happen anymore.

Wukong is waiting for him after him after all!

…

Right?