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clanborn · 1 year ago

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Origins of the Bay Clans: Stone and the Lynx (Part 2)

The tracks led inland, further than the cats of Stone’s little clan had yet dared to travel. She followed the river upstream, skirting the thrashing current as it threw itself against the banks. The forest grew denser, the hemlocks thicker, the sharp peaks of the mountains taller, casting the valley in deep shadow. All was silent but the river, and the sound of strange, buzzing bird calls that rang eerily through the trees. Though her heart trembled, Stone trekked on, her pawsteps guided by purpose and the tracks that still sat unmistakable in the mud.

Stone had never followed a river to its origin, had never even thought of it as a possibility. Water–rivers, oceans, rains–lived outside the boundaries of a lifespan, within birth and death. Rivers weren’t something that just began, or ended, they simply cycled–at least, that’s what she had believed.

After hours spent unceasingly hiking through the valley, Stone emerged from the edge of the treeline. The pebbled ground spread flat in front of her, before abruptly spiking upward to form the range of mountains. Two peaks pierced the sky, and nestled between them was a landform unlike anything Stone had ever seen. The river rushed forward from the base of a giant white slope, a crystalline mass carved deep with blue crevices.

The wall shone like a piece of the moon itself, bleeding into the valley, its essence spilling into the forest before winding its way to the Bay. As Stone drew closer, she realized with a shock that the structure was made of ice, frozen solid despite the warmth of late spring.

She halted at the river’s edge, looking upon the structure in wonder. Was the moon made of ice? Had a shard of it fallen from the heavens upon the mountains? What else could create a fortress so massive, so imposing yet nurturing, whose icy waters fed the land and the bay?

These questions swam through her mind, but she tossed them to the side with a flick of her ears. For now, the answers were unknowable, and she must remain focused on her task.

She shook out her pelt and continued her path: the ground now had turned to gravel, and she tracked by scent instead of footprints. The slope turned steep, then rocky, a gray mountain face broken only by patches of unmelted snow and determined shrubs. Below her, the mass of ice gleamed, stretching out beyond the peaks like a blinding white sea.

As she continued along the mountainside, she noticed an opening in the cliff face, a dark entrance where the ice field met the mountain. She quickened her pace until she reached the cave entrance, standing on the barrier of darkness. Here, the scent she was tracking hung in the air, strong as ever, leading her into the blackness. She slipped into the cave without a second thought

Inside was a large cave, and she quickly crossed the open stretch of ground to the back, where a darker shadow lay. A tunnel.

Curiosity drove her forward, driving away any fear she might have felt. Down into the tunnel she tread, deeper and deeper into the veins of the mountain. For ages she was guided by scent alone, and the narrow tunnel walls pressing on all sides. An eternity of darkness.

Finally, Stone saw light, a blue glow that softly spilled into the end of the tunnel. Her footsteps quickened, and the cat entered into a cavern. Her breath hitched as she stepped into the light, awed by the sight before her. A medium sized cave rose around her, walls of smooth, layered stone arcing above her. The stone was washed with blue, for one wall was made not of rock, but entirely of ice. It was a deep, rich blue, as sunlight filtered down into the fragment of icy moon.

Within the ice wall’s bubbles and cracks hung an even stranger sight. A giant skeleton, ancient and fragmented, was trapped frozen in the ice, the remains of a creature Stone had never seen before. Though it’s thick bones and long, curved fangs were utterly unfamiliar, something in Stone knew it had once called itself catkin. A forgotten ancestor.

In front of the ice, sitting still and gray as the rocks around it, was a towering feline silhouette, its tufted ears outlined by the cold light. Stone’s fellow, wild catkin cousin. The Lynx.

The Lynx turned its gaze towards her slowly, expectantly, like it had known about her presence even before she did. Stone approached it, wary.

“I admire your tenacity, cat” Its voice was a gravelly purr. “I thought you’d stop at the treeline.”

Stone skirted the wall carefully, keeping several pawsteps of distance between her and the creature. “Why did you assume that?”

The Lynx wrinkled its nose in a wry smirk. “Well, look at you. You’re an imitation of a cat. This wilderness is unfit for your kind.”

Stone flattened her ears, attempting to keep her voice level. “What exactly do you mean?”

“You call yourselves ‘cats’, yet your kind feeds by human hands. You have grown small and thin-furred, distant from your nobler origins. You can only survive in little packs, reliant on the work of others, unable to face nature with your own merit—A true ‘cat’ walks in solitude, you know nothing of the sort.”

Stone looked beyond the Lynx to the ice wall behind it, where the massive bones of their great ancestor lay suspended in time. “You say my kind has fallen, but have yours not? Have you not also grown smaller than this god, your fangs short, your bones thin? It too lived in solitude, yet here it lies, dead, its life unremembered by its catkin. You mock my community, but we have lived this long despite this lands’ harshness, and will continue to do so.”

The Lynx’s smug expression faded, and its gaze grew intense as it stared at Stone. “Even gods die, housecat. The only thing life guarantees is an ending.” It curled its lip. “Your ‘community’ is not exempt from this.”

Stone met its eyes, unwavering. “If we are catkin, what bars me from the same powers you possess? Surely I can learn to survive by your means, surely I can find access to your blessings.”

The Lynx almost laughed, but the scoff caught in its throat. It narrowed its eyes, suddenly thoughtful, the smirk creeping back up its muzzle.

“Maybe I can offer you a taste of godhood, little cat. The lives of my predecessors run through me, from the tip of my tail through all ten of my claws.” The deity sat back on its haunches and held up its massive paws in demonstration. For a brief moment, its claws twinkled with a faint light, like stars plucked straight from the sky.

“One of these is mine, of course. But I have nine to spare.” It tilted its head down at her, its fangs gleaming in the blue cavern light. “Provided I deem you worthy of them.”

Stone raised her head in challenge. “What would make me worthy?”

The Lynx paused to consider, eyeing her up and down.

“To you alone I will grant these lives, thus you alone must face me.” The lynx narrowed its eyes. “Prove to me your will and strength, and defeat me in battle. If I submit, I grant you these lives, and the chance to explore this bay with greater distance between death and yourself.”

“Your loss, of course, will cost you your life.” It dipped its head towards her. “Is it a deal?”

Stone paused, hesitant, her heart fluttering in her chest. How could she face this creature in her state, small in stature, weary from her climb, completely alone? Despite her apprehension, her curiosity was stronger. There was only one chance for an opportunity like this, and even if she declined, what would stop the Lynx from killing her anyway?.

She nodded once. “I accept your terms.”

The lynx nodded back. Its fangs flashed. It stretched its claws.

They leapt into battle.

Stone was swift, but the Lynx was strong and skilled. It battered her with massive paws, slamming her into the cold rocky floor. Stone dodged and weaved through its attacks, but the cavern was small, and every leap Stone made seemed to send her into another faceful of claws.

Her opponent threw a powerful swipe, tossing her against the ice wall with a thud. Back against the blue glow, Stone crouched low, struggling to catch her breath. Her strength was waning, and Stone knew with every moment her chances of victory grew slimmer. Her paws shook slightly. The Lynx had noticed her waver, and began to pad towards with calm, sure steps. It smiled–it was eager to finish her off. How could she win this?

She thought of the cats–the clan–she had left behind, who likely waited anxiously for their wayward leader’s return. Would they falter without her guidance? Would the glimmer of hope she had lit in their hearts snuff out with fear? If only she could lead them to the majestic moon glacier, show them the ethereal ancient glow of the blue cave, renew their spirits with wonder at the wilderness they were trapped in. Stone suddenly stiffened, steeling herself as she lifted her gaze back toward her foe. Though she fought alone in the cavern, her mind conjured the presence of her clan behind her. She would not die here. She would die among the cats she had befriended, who had banded together in their time of need. The cats she needed, who needed her to return alive.

With a burst of vigor, Stone launched herself toward the lynx’s head, her weight and confidence catching it off guard. She clung to its face, slashing its ears, her momentum sending it crashing hard into the floor. It flailed its huge paws, but Stone stood steadfast upon its chest, pressing her own paws down forcefully against its throat. Her claws dug in, blood welled up around her toes. The lynx grew more panicked, struggling wildly, its breath stuttering in strangled gasps. Stone pressed harder.

“St–Sto-”

Stone leaned close into its face. “Do you yield?”

The Lynx thrashed its head, attempting to nod frantically. “Yg-Yes!”

Stone slowly lifted her paws, releasing pressure off the creature’s throat. It gasped for air, then shoved her off its chest, throwing her to the floor. She scrambled to her paws, watching the Lynx heave. After it had caught its breath, the Lynx pressed its paw deep into the stone floor. It did so with strange power, impressing into the rock like it was mud, leaving the crisp outline of its giant pawprint. It beckoned her over. Its breath was hoarse. “Come.”

Stone approached the Lynx. She eyed it warily, nervous that it would decide to ignore the deal and kill her anyway. But it didn’t move as she stood above it, her paws settling on the edge of its pawprint, which seemed to sparkle slightly in the dim, cold light.

The Lynx glared up at her, its cool demeanor vanished, its eyes blazing with controlled fury. “Touch your nose to the floor,” it growled. “You will receive your reward.”

Carefully, Stone dipped her head down, until her nose brushed against the floor’s icy chill. For a brief moment, all was still.

Suddenly, she was blinded by overwhelming light. The force of the glare threw her head back, and her vision was assaulted by an oppressive blur of color and noise. Images flashed in her mind, landscapes, memories, creatures she has never seen before. Each streaked by, too fast for her to fully process the scenes. Waves of emotion crashed in her, sending her reeling, thrown into a raging sea of grief and joy and fear and wonder. She felt all of time as it had crept by, millions of years of the past and future stretched out infinitely, lived all at once in a single instant. She felt everything. She felt nothing. It was the most agonizing pain she had ever experienced, swept in a flood of sheer euphoria. She knew places and beasts and times she had no name for, all lived through and known by the catkin before her. It was the longest moment of her life, but as she crouched, trembling, blinking her eyes back to the sight of the blue cavern, she realized only seconds had passed.

The Lynx had stood, and had begun moving toward the cave’s exit. It turned to look down at her, and Stone returned its gaze, panting heavily, her fur on end and buzzing with strange energy.

It was silent for a moment. “You now have eight more lives to live along with your own. More than any little cat has had before. Your blessing and your curse.” It lulled thoughtfully, its expression had settled back into its neutral stare.

Its voice was cold, though laced with an undertone of contempt–and perhaps, Stone thought, respect. “Do not treat this victory lightly, Stone. Every day you live here will be another test, another gamble with your life. Living here is a game with no winners, and you and your fellows can only stall the march of nature for so long.”

The lynx turned, padding toward the exit. “The gods here will meddle where they like, and though you have bested me, I can not guarantee my kin will be deterred from entertaining themselves with playthings like you.”

The god stopped in the entrance, then glanced back toward her, its face in shadow.

“Good luck, Stone. You will need it.”

It disappeared.

For a moment, Stone stood alone in the blue cavern.

She was not Stone anymore. Something had changed within her, the Lynx’s stars sat heavy in her chest, glittered on her whiskers. Just as an icy piece of the moon had fallen to the earth and become one with it, fragments of the stars had melded with her being. She was Stonestar, and her pelt glowed with the new (old?) lives that settled under her fur.

And she was alive. More than she had ever been before.

And it was time to return to her clan.

#oops wrong blocg #this one is more of a written story #im more of a visual storyteller than an author so hopefully it reads ok #oh also this is the version of the story that’s been passed down through the clans #so it’s been embellished and should not necessarily be taken at face value #since stonestar was the only one there and this was many decades ago #lore #stone #stonestar #my art #the lynx #warrior cats #alaska clans

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kookiewithluv · 7 days ago

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⛈️🤒❤️‍🩹😚 + Jimin pretty please

TITLE: Almost Romantic

PAIRING: jimin x reader

GENRE: rom-com, slice of life(?), Slow burn, Drama

WORD COUNT: 6k

TRIGGER WARNING: none (this is the first time i'm writing something with no trigger warning! hehe)

SUMMARY: After an awkward car ride in the rain, you end up at Park Jimin's fancy place, sneezing and fighting off both a cold and your long-time crush on him.

a/n: This story is entirely a work of fiction and is the sole property of @kookiewithluv. The characters, events, and scenarios depicted are products of the imagination and are not intended to represent or reflect real-life situations, nor do I wish for anything portrayed here to occur in reality. I kindly ask that my work not be copied, translated, or reposted as your own on this or any other platform, including YouTube. Please respect the effort and originality behind this piece. Thank you for your understanding and support.

a/n: Hey Anon! First off, let me apologize for taking forever to get back to you. I mean, wow, it took me so long you'd think I was trying to cure world hunger or something. Honestly, I have no idea what I ended up doing, and after all this time, I can only hope it's halfway decent. If you like it, please tell me so I can stop questioning all my life choices. And thank you for sending a Jimin request because OMG, I am dangerously obsessed with this man. Seriously. Anyway, hope you enjoy it. Luv ya!

The rain hammered down in relentless sheets, drumming against the tin roof of the bus stop above you. The cold air howled through the deserted street, wrapping itself around you like an unwelcome guest. The flickering streetlight cast a pale, ghostly glow, its harsh light accentuating the emptiness around you. You hugged yourself tightly, your arms gripping your sides as if you could hold yourself together.

You shivered, your breath coming out in quick, visible puffs. The dampness seeped through your clothes, clinging to your skin and chilling you to the bone. Drops of water slid down your face, some from the rain, others threatening to spill from your eyes. You blinked them away furiously, biting down on the inside of your cheek to keep from breaking down. Mina had warned you about staying late at the office, but as always, you thought you knew better. Now you stood here, stranded and freezing, your phone a useless piece of metal in your bag.

A gust of wind tore through the street, whipping your hair into your face and dragging the rain sideways. You turned your head away, teeth chattering. The cold felt like it was pressing in, squeezing the air from your lungs. You couldn’t even hear your own shaky breathing over the roar of the storm.

The faint glow of headlights pierced through the rain, growing brighter as the car approached. Your heart surged with a flicker of hope, and you stumbled forward, arm jerking up to wave frantically. “Please,” you whispered, though your voice was swallowed by the storm. “Please stop.”

The car’s tires splashed through a puddle, sending icy water spraying onto your shoes. Its headlights illuminated you for a split second before sweeping past, leaving you in the dark once more. You stood frozen, your arm still raised as you stared after the fading taillights.

Your chest tightened, and you swallowed hard, trying to choke back the lump rising in your throat. Your hand dropped slowly to your side, trembling as you clenched it into a fist. The ache in your chest grew heavier, a suffocating weight that pressed against your ribs. A tear slipped free, quickly hidden by the rain streaking down your face. You swiped at your cheeks angrily.

The wind howled again, and you crumpled onto the cold bench behind you, wrapping your arms around you, tightly. Your nails dug into your damp sleeves as your shoulders began to shake. You couldn’t cry—what good would it do? No one was coming. No one ever did. The darkness pressed in closer, whispering that you were alone, as you rocked yourself gently.

Your heart jolted as you caught sight of the same car stopped just a few feet away. Its brake lights glowed faintly in the rain before it suddenly began reversing. The tires splashed through puddles, the sound sharp against the muffled roar of the storm. Before you could process what was happening, the car screeched to a halt right in front of you.

Were you happy? No.

Relieved? Not even close.

Scared? Absolutely.

Your legs locked in place as you stared at the car, your mind racing. Why would someone stop now after ignoring you the first time? The question sent a shiver down your spine. The pounding rain felt distant compared to the thunderous beating of your heart. Every nerve screamed at you to run, but your feet refused to move. You tried to steady your breathing, silently chanting, Stay calm, stay calm, but your chest tightened like a coiled spring, ready to snap.

The car door opposite you creaked open, the noise slicing through the storm like a warning bell. Your body tensed, muscles coiling as if preparing to bolt. But just as quickly, the door slammed shut again. What? Your brows furrowed, and for a fleeting moment, confusion overpowered fear. Is this person okay? Or are they just messing with me?

The passenger window began to lower, gliding down with a soft whoosh. Your breath hitched as a familiar face emerged, half-shrouded in the shadows of the car's interior. Park Jimin. Your boss. Your obnoxiously attractive, arrogant, self-absorbed boss. Relief washed over you like a bucket of icy water, though it was short-lived.

“Get in,” he commanded, his voice low and clipped as he motioned impatiently with his hand. You hesitated, frozen under his sharp gaze, but another gust of wind pushed you forward, your feet dragging against the puddled pavement. The rain soaked you even more as you opened the car door and slid in, trembling from the cold. The interior smelled faintly of leather and expensive cologne, but any sense of comfort was destroyed by his sharp voice cutting through the space.

“Are you out of your fucking mind? What the hell are you doing here at this time of night? And why were you walking so damn slow?”

Your head snapped toward him, your eyes narrowing despite the exhaustion clawing at you. Of course, his first instinct wasn’t to ask if you were okay but to criticize. You forced a tight-lipped smile, your fingers curling into the damp fabric of your skirt.

“Yes, Mr. Park. I’m perfectly fine,” you bit out, the words dripping with sarcasm you tried to mask behind a strained politeness. Your fake smile wavered as you glanced at him, silently debating whether strangling him would be worth losing your ride home.

Jimin scoffed, shaking his head slightly, as though reading your thoughts. His eyes trailed over your face, lingering for a moment before they dropped lower. You noticed the shift in his expression too late. His gaze flicked to your collarbone, then downward. His eyes widened briefly before he snapped his head forward, clearing his throat with a harsh sound.

Confused, you frowned and followed his gaze. Your stomach sank as your eyes landed on the problem. Your white blouse, drenched from the rain, clung to your body like a second skin, and the bright red lace of your bra was clearly visible underneath.

A gasp escaped your lips as your arms flew up instinctively to cover your chest. “Oh my god,” you muttered, turning your body away from him, your face heating despite the cold. You shot him a glare over your shoulder, clutching your arms tightly around yourself.

Jimin rubbed the back of his neck, avoiding your gaze entirely. He shook his head, exhaling sharply through his nose as he shrugged off his blazer. Without a word, he leaned over and held it out to you. You snatched it from his hand, your lips twisting into a scowl.

“You could’ve stopped the car near me,” you muttered under your breath, slipping the warm fabric over your shoulders. The faint scent of his cologne clung to it. So... manly.

His head snapped toward you, brows furrowed. “So, it’s my fault now?”

“Duh!” you shot back, pulling the blazer tighter around yourself as if it could shield you from his attitude.

“And what about the fact that you were walking so maddeningly slow? Like you were planning to camp out there all night?”

Your jaw clenched, your hands balling into fists at your sides. “Shut up,” you hissed, your voice low but dripping with frustration.

Jimin’s eyes widened slightly, his lips parting in mock disbelief. “Did you just—”

“Yes, yes, yes! I just told you to shut uuuupppp!” you yelled, throwing your hands in the air. Your voice echoed sharply inside the car, silencing him completely. The weight of your outburst hit you like a tidal wave, embarrassment creeping up your neck. You turned your face away, heat flooding your cheeks. Great. Now I look like a lunatic.

He stared at you, stunned, his lips slightly parted as though he couldn’t quite process what had just happened. His wide eyes and slack jaw only made you angrier. You could practically feel his judgment radiating off him, and it made you want to crawl under a rock—or strangle him slowly and thoroughly.

“Stop staring and start the damn car,” you snapped, your voice cracking slightly.

His gaze lingered for a moment longer before he blinked, shaking his head. His cheeks flushed a soft pink, and he hurriedly looked away, gripping the steering wheel tightly. “Fine,” he muttered, starting the engine with a low rumble.

The car began to move, the rain now a blurred sheet outside the windows. Silence settled between you, heavy and awkward, broken only by the rhythmic swish of the windshield wipers. You sank back into the seat, pressing your hand to your forehead as a dull ache throbbed at your temples. A cold shiver raced down your spine, and you took a shaky breath, hoping it would settle your nerves.

“How long, Mr. Park?” you asked, your voice quieter now, the fight in you momentarily drained.

“Not far,” he replied, glancing at you briefly before returning his eyes to the road. “My house is just a few blocks away. We’ll be there soon.”

Your heart stopped. You sat up straighter, your hands clutching the blazer tightly. “What the hell do you mean, your house?”

He spared you another glance, his brows knitting together in mild confusion. “I’m taking you home,” he said, his tone matter-of-fact.

“Whose home?” you nearly screeched, pulling the blazer tighter around you as though it could somehow protect you from this insanity.

“Mine,” he said simply, his eyes darting back to the road.

"Home. Your home," you repeated, your tone sharp as you gestured toward him. "I wanted to go to my home."

Jimin’s knuckles tightened on the steering wheel, his jaw ticking in irritation. “I didn’t know the address,” he said flatly, avoiding your gaze.

“You could’ve just asked!”

“I wanted to, but you yelled at me to shut up.”

“And so your brilliant solution was to bring me here?” you retorted, throwing your hands up in disbelief.

His eyes snapped to yours, narrowing as he pulled the car to a jerky stop. “Excuse me? I live here. What the hell do you mean by here?” he asked, his voice low and offended, his brows drawing together.

You glared at him, your lips curling into a bitter scowl. “Then why have you stopped in the middle of nowhere?”

Jimin’s lips parted, a humourless laugh escaping him as he ran a hand through his damp hair. “I think you’ve been out in the rain too long. Maybe some water leaked into your brain because it’s clearly not working. We are not in the middle of nowhere, you deranged woman.”

Before you could retort, he pushed his door open with a sharp motion and stepped out, slamming it shut behind him. You stared after him in disbelief, his broad back retreating into the rain. Grumbling under your breath, you wrestled with your seatbelt, finally kicking the door open and following him.

The rain hit you like icy needles, soaking through your clothes as you stumbled out of the car. The moment you stepped onto the pavement, you froze, your jaw slack. In front of you stood a towering, modern building, its glass facade gleaming despite the downpour. “Wow,” you muttered under your breath, momentarily forgetting your anger. But then you caught sight of Jimin’s retreating figure, and you cursed under your breath, hiking up your heels to chase after him.

“Of course, you’d leave me behind,” you muttered as your heels clicked against the wet pavement.

Jimin turned his head slightly, flashing you a grin that made you want to slap it off his face. “Oh, you’re here! I thought you’d decided to spend the night in the car,” he teased, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

You narrowed your eyes at him, shivering as you wrapped his blazer tighter around yourself. “Do you have a knife at home?” you asked, your tone casual as you both inside the elevator.

He paused mid-step, his shoulders stiffening slightly. “Yeah… why?”

“Just so I know where to find one,” you replied, tilting your head innocently. “For when you start talking too much rubbish.”

Jimin turned to face you fully, his brows lifting as his mouth parted in shock. For a brief moment, he looked genuinely alarmed. Then, as you burst into laughter at his expression, he sighed in relief, shaking his head.

“You think you’re funny?” he asked, his voice low as he stepped closer to you, his eyes narrowing slightly.

You smirked, lifting your chin. “I think I’m adorable.”

His lips twitched into a smirk of his own as he leaned in, his face now dangerously close to yours. You wanted to step back, but the cold glass of the elevator doors pressed against your back, trapping you. His dark eyes glinted with amusement as he opened his mouth to respond—

And then you sneezed.

Hard.

Right into his face.

The moment froze, your eyes widening in horror as he flinched, wiping at his face with his sleeve. “What the actual hell?!” he yelled, his voice a mixture of disbelief and rage. He stepped back, his face scrunching up in disgust as he muttered a string of curses, switching languages with every expletive. English, Japanese, Chinese, and then a barrage of rapid Korean filled the small elevator.

You stared down at your feet, heat crawling up your neck. “Sorry…” you mumbled, barely audible, too mortified to meet his eyes.

He glared at you, his nostrils flaring. “Sorry? Sorry?!” He stepped forward, looking like he had a whole speech prepared—

But the elevator dinged, its doors sliding open.

For the first time that night, you silently thanked every god you could think of as Jimin stomped out, muttering under his breath. You hurried after him, sneezing again as the cold air hit you.

“Sit,” he barked, pointing to the plush couch in his spacious living room. His voice was sharp, but his eyes softened for a moment as they flicked to your shivering form.

You sat without a word, clutching his blazer tightly around you. Jimin disappeared into hallway, still muttering under his breath. As you sneezed again, you couldn’t help but laugh softly at the ridiculousness of it all, even if he was plotting your demise in the next room.

He came back, dressed in a plain sweatshirt and gray sweatpants, his hair sticking up in messy tufts, like he’d been running his hands through it. Barefoot and casual, he should’ve looked harmless, but instead, he looked annoyingly good. His sharp gaze locked on you as he walked closer, his lips pressed into a tight line, like he had something serious to say. Your throat dried up when he stopped right in front of you, the scent of his and something uniquely him filling the air between you. He leaned in, his face inches from yours, and just as his lips parted to speak—

You sneezed.

Right on his face.

“Women, seriously?” he muttered, his lips curling into a smirk as he wiped the back of his hand against his face.

You scowled, tugging his oversized blazer tighter around yourself. “What? I can’t help it!”

“You can’t help anything. The only thing you can help at is being mean and senseless.”

“Excuse me?” you snapped, leaning toward him, ready to unleash your fury—but another sneeze erupted before you could get the words out.

“Eww!” he exclaimed, jerking back like you’d just sprayed him with acid.

He pointed toward the hallway, his expression torn between disgust and resignation. “You, come with me. Before you drown my house with your sneezes.”

You rolled your eyes, trudging after him as he led you through the sleek, modern interior of his house.

“I didn’t ask you to bring me here,” you grumbled, your damp hair sticking to your neck. “You could’ve just dropped me off at my place.”

He turned his head slightly, his brow furrowing in exasperation. “Did you see how hard it was raining? You wanted me to take you home and then drive back through that storm? I could’ve gotten stuck—or worse. You should be grateful!”

You glared at his back, muttering under your breath, “Grateful, my ass.”

Jimin stopped in front of a door and pushed it open, revealing a spacious, minimalist bedroom. He disappeared into the walk-in closet without a word, emerging moments later with a hoodie and a pair of sweatpants.

“Here,” he said, shoving the clothes into your arms. “Change into this.” His voice softened, just for a second, before he added, “Bathroom’s on the right. Don’t take forever.”

You raised a brow as he turned and left without waiting for a response. Rude.

But as you glanced around his room—simple yet elegant with muted tones and clean lines—you couldn’t deny the faint flutter in your chest. It was surreal, standing here, surrounded by the essence of him. Once upon a time, when you’d first started working at the company, you’d harboured the most ridiculous crush on him. Obsessive, even. But you’d gotten over it. Or at least you thought you had.

Quickly peeling off your wet clothes, you slipped into the hoodie and sweatpants. They were far too big, the sleeves swallowing your hands, but they were warm and soft. And they smelled… like him. Clean, woodsy, with the faintest hint of something sharp and intoxicating. You hated how comforting it felt.

Or maybe you didn’t.

When you returned to the living room, he was sprawled on the couch, one arm draped over the backrest. His eyes flicked to you, scanning you briefly before he gestured toward the coffee table. “Soup,” he said simply.

Your gaze shifted to the large bowl sitting on the table, steam rising from the golden liquid. Your heart softened a fraction as you sat beside him, the warmth of the soup drawing you in. Without a second thought, you grabbed the bowl and scooped up a spoonful.

The second it touched your tongue, the heat seared your mouth, and you yelped, dropping the spoon back into the bowl. Jimin’s eyes widened, as he shot forward. “What the hell?!” he exclaimed, snatching the bowl out of your hands and placing it back on the table.

Before you could respond, he was in front of you, crouching slightly, his face a mixture of panic and concern. leaning closer. He started fanning your mouth with his hand, his brows furrowed as he muttered under his breath. Then, without warning, he leaned in further and blew.

The cool air hit your lips, and your breath hitched. His face was inches from yours now, his dark eyes focused intently on your mouth. You froze, acutely aware of the way his hand hovered just beneath your chin, steadying you. The moment stretched, the air between you thick with unspoken tension. His gaze flicked to yours, and for a heartbeat, neither of you moved. His lips parted slightly, his breath warm against your cheek.

“Are you blind? C-Can’t you see it’s hot?” he scolded, his voice breaking slightly as he cleared his throat and shifted awkwardly on the couch. His eyes darted away from yours, and for a fleeting moment, you caught the faintest hint of colour creeping up his neck.

You nodded, the sting of embarrassment silencing any snarky retort. Any other day, you’d have torn into him for bossing you around, but now? You couldn’t even muster a glare. Instead, you pressed your palms to your cheeks, only to realize they were burning.

What the hell was wrong with you?

Your mind raced as you sat frozen in place. You’re over him. You’re over him, you chanted silently, willing the blush to disappear. But deep down, you knew the truth—your heart was still as stupid as ever.

And then, just as you thought you could gather yourself, you sneezed again.

His head whipped toward you, eyes narrowing slightly. You braced for the scolding that was surely coming, shoulders tensing as you sucked in a breath.

But instead, he shifted closer.

Your breath hitched.

His gaze softened, his brows knitting together with concern as he leaned in. “Are you really sick?” he asked, his voice quieter this time, almost gentle.

Before you could answer, his hand moved toward your face. You froze as his fingertips brushed your forehead, testing your temperature. His touch was warm—too warm—and your heart thudded violently in your chest.

He frowned, his hand lingering for a moment longer before sliding down to the side of your neck, his thumb grazing your jaw.

That was it. You were doomed.

Your pulse quickened beneath his touch, and you swore he could feel it. His brows furrowed deeper, his expression shifting from mild concern to genuine worry. “You’re turning red,” he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. His thumb moved slightly, tracing an invisible line along your skin. “Do… Do I need to call a doctor?”

The tenderness in his tone almost shattered you. Why did he have to be like this? Why now?

You shook your head quickly, snapping out of your daze and leaning back, desperate to put some distance between you. “No,” you managed to croak, your voice embarrassingly hoarse.

He blinked, his hand falling back to his side as he sat upright. “Oh,” he said, his tone clipped. His shoulders stiffened as if he suddenly realized how close he’d been.

You caught his slight grimace as he scooted away, the small gap between you growing wider.

Your chest tightened, and before you knew it, you were pouting.

His gaze flicked to you, one brow arching in confusion. “What?” he asked, his voice tinged with suspicion.

You shook your head quickly, too flustered to explain.

“Seriously, what’s wrong now?” he pressed, his brows drawing together again.

But you just shook your head once more, biting your lip to keep from saying something stupid—like how much you’d missed this, how much you wished he’d never pulled away.

And yet, even as he leaned back into his corner of the couch, his gaze lingered on you for a second longer than necessary, his expression unreadable. And that tiny, almost imperceptible pause was enough to make your heart ache with hope.

“You hungry?” he asked, his voice low and casual as he glanced over at you.

“No,” you said quickly, your tone sharper than intended.

His lips quirked up, clearly not believing you. “You sure? I can cook,” he offered, his brows lifting in that way that made his face unbearably soft, like he was trying to coax the truth out of you.

You shook your head firmly. “I’m sure,” you mumbled, shifting your gaze back to the soup in your hands. You’d already eaten, and you knew he had too.

A comfortable silence fell between you. He leaned back on the couch, his head resting against the cushions, eyes fluttering closed. His chest rose and fell evenly, and for the first time since you’d met him, he looked utterly at peace.

And absolutely stunning.

You tried not to stare, but your eyes betrayed you, taking in every detail. The way his jawline looked sharper under the dim light, the soft curve of his lashes resting against his cheeks, and his lips—God, his lips—full and slightly parted, as if he was moments away from whispering something that would undo you.

Your gaze trailed down to his clothes, his sweatshirt slightly rumpled but hugging his shoulders perfectly. His loose, comfy sweatpants sat just right on his hips, and even in such an unassuming outfit, he looked... ethereal.

It wasn’t fair. How could someone look like that just sitting there?

You pulled your eyes away, forcing yourself to look out the glass wall instead. The rain pounded relentlessly against it, streaks of water catching the faint glow of the city lights outside. The storm showed no signs of stopping, and you couldn’t help but regret staying late at the office.

I could’ve finished it all tomorrow, you thought bitterly, tightening your grip on the warm bowl in your hands. Your eyes drifted back to him, unable to help yourself. The question burned at the back of your mind: why had he stayed late? You knew he often worked late, but on busy nights like this, he typically stayed at the office rather than going home. Tonight, though, he’d changed that.

You frowned slightly. What was different this time?

You didn’t know—and couldn’t have known—that the difference was you.

He had seen the storm warning on the news and had sent everyone home early, but you had stayed behind, stubbornly working. He had been about to leave, but seeing you there, so focused, so unaware of the weather worsening, had stopped him in his tracks. Jimin was nothing if not professional, but he had always harboured an unspoken interest in you—a quiet, persistent fondness he never let show.

And now, here you both were.

The silence stretched on, the sound of the rain filling the space between you. You weren’t sure how much time had passed, but when you finally opened your mouth to speak, the words were out before you could stop them. And you almost regretted it. Almost.

"Do you have a girlfriend?" The question slipped out before you could stop yourself, your eyes widening in surprise at your own words.

Jimin’s eyes flicked open, locking with yours instantly. There was a quiet amusement in his gaze, and his lips tugged up into that soft, teasing smile that made your heart do something you tried to ignore. He didn’t speak right away, just studied you as if he could read everything you weren’t saying.

“No,” he replied, his voice quiet and surprisingly soft. “Why do you ask?”

You swallowed, suddenly feeling silly, and looked everywhere but at him—out the window, at your hands, the bowl of soup on the table. Anywhere but him.

He leaned back into the couch, clearly amused, a playful edge to his tone. “Why are you behaving like this?” His smile was still there, small but knowing.

“Like what?” you blurted out, but even as the words left your mouth, you knew it was a bit of a dumb question.

“I don’t know. You tell me.” He raised an eyebrow, watching you like you were a puzzle he was determined to figure out.

You stared at him, blinking a few times like he’d just sprouted another head, making his laughter bubble up, soft but genuine.

“Why are you staring at me like that?” he teased.

“Because you’re talking weird,” you said, voice a bit sharper than you intended, but your words faltered under his gaze.

He chuckled again, the sound warm and disarming, sending a flutter through your chest. “You’re behaving weird,” he countered.

You let out a frustrated huff and turned away from him, crossing your arms tightly over your chest, hoping the action would somehow shield you from whatever was happening between the two of you.

He chuckled again, and it was like a spark igniting inside you, frustrating and electrifying all at once. You glared at him, but even that seemed pointless when he was looking at you like that—like he could read the thoughts swirling in your head.

The silence that fell was oddly peaceful, but it didn’t sit well with you. You always needed something more. Chaos, noise, anything but stillness. Fidgeting in your seat, you couldn’t stand it anymore. You broke the silence, your voice sounding louder than you intended.

“Mr. Park—”

He cut you off with a soft smile, sitting up slightly. “You can call me Jimin,” he said, the words coming out like an invitation, a subtle challenge in his eyes.

You raised an eyebrow, hesitant. You glanced away quickly, feeling the heat creep up your neck as you crossed your arms defensively. “Are you sure?”

His gaze didn’t waver, locking onto yours with an intensity that made you feel suddenly exposed, vulnerable in a way you couldn’t explain. “Why do you look so unsure?” he asked, his voice gentle but with a teasing edge.

You stiffened, trying to find something—anything—to say. “You were perfectly okay threatening me and cursing at me. What happened now?”

His face twisted into a playful look of disbelief. “When did I—”

You were about to cut him off, but the teasing glint in his eyes silenced you.

“Huh?” His head tilted, and his smile grew, mischievous and daring.

“Okay! But I don’t mean any of it,” you blurted out, the words tumbling over each other as you sat up straighter, hoping it would make you look less flustered.

“Of course you don’t,” he said, his laugh escaping just beneath his words. The playful glint in his eyes only deepened as he relaxed back into the couch, arms spread wide like he was claiming the space between you. A soft smile tugged at the corners of his mouth, and you couldn’t help but feel that same pull in your chest, though you tried to ignore it.

You crossed your arms tighter over your chest, trying to regain some control over yourself. “You really think you’re so charming, don’t you?”

He leaned in slightly, his smile widening, and your stomach fluttered despite your best attempts to stay unaffected.

“I don’t just think... I know.” His voice was full of that confidence that made your heart race, that impossible assurance that had you questioning everything.

You rolled your eyes, but even you knew it was more for show than anything. Your lips wanted to curl up, but you kept them pressed tight, the heat in your cheeks betraying the hard facade you tried to maintain.

“Yeah, right. Your just full of yourself,” you shot back, trying to sound unaffected, but the playful tone that slipped into your voice gave you away.

“Maybe,” he said with a shrug, his grin widening. “But I’ve got goods to back it up. Just look at how you're blushing.”

Your cheeks burned at his words, and you immediately shifted in your seat, trying to hide the heat spreading across your face. Your heart was racing now, and you could barely keep your breath steady.

“Am not!” you protested, but it came out weak, a poor defence against the blush that was clearly visible.

He raised an eyebrow, clearly amused, before standing up. “Sure, let’s go.”

Confused, you followed him, your feet moving almost mechanically. You barely registered his words at first, still caught in the strange feeling his teasing had left in your chest. “It’s getting late. We should go to bed.”

Something about the way he said "we" made your stomach twist, or was it flutter? You weren’t sure. All you could hear now was the odd ringing in your ears, a soft buzz that drowned out everything else.

“We?” The word slipped from your mouth before you could stop it, confusion knitting your brows together as you watched him.

He gave you a small, almost reassuring smile as he stepped into his bedroom, holding the door open for you. His eyes never left you as he waited, his gaze warm, not at all like you had imagined it would be.

You stepped in hesitantly, your heart pounding with every step you took closer to him. Your mind was swirling, but you couldn’t place what was happening. You trusted him, you did, but something about this moment felt different—felt new.

“What happened?” he asked softly, his hands reaching out to gently pull you toward him, his touch grounding you in a way that made everything else fade into the background.

You blinked, confused. “Huh?”

His eyes searched your face with concern, his brows furrowing as his fingers grazed your cheek. “You’re so... pale.”

“Am I?” you whispered, suddenly aware of how unsteady you felt.

He didn’t seem satisfied with the answer. His touch moved from your face to your forehead, gently pressing as though checking for something. His fingers trailed down to your neck, the soft touch sending shivers down your spine.

You felt lightheaded, almost as if his hand was the only thing keeping you grounded. Your knees wobbled, your breath catching in your throat as your vision blurred.

“What happened to you?” His voice was barely a whisper now, a trace of worry creeping in that made your heart thud painfully in your chest.

The softness in his tone made your legs feel even weaker, like they could give out at any moment. Your body trembled slightly under his touch, your mind too foggy to make sense of anything.

Before you could even respond, he scooped you up effortlessly, his strength surprising you. He laid you down gently on the bed, the sudden movement making everything feel even more surreal.

You felt lighter than you ever had, almost weightless, like you could just float away. But your head—your head felt impossibly heavy, as if you couldn’t hold it up anymore. The dizziness washed over you in waves, your senses fading. You barely registered the way his face hovered above you, worry etched deep in his expression as he watched you. His hand was still on your forehead, his touch warm against your cool skin.

You barely registered the way his face hovered above you, worry etched deep in his expression as he watched you. His hand was still on your forehead, his touch warm against your cool skin.

“God, what... hap-happened?” he murmured again, but you couldn’t find the strength to answer. Your vision blurred even further, the world around you spinning uncontrollably. You felt yourself slip away, your body growing heavier.

And then, without warning, everything went black.

You blinked your eyes open, still disoriented, only to find Jimin staring down at you. His face was inches away, concern etched across his features. His hand was gently placed on your arm, and his eyes were wide, scanning your face for any sign of distress. The dim light in the room made the worried expression on his face all the more intense.

"You okay?" His voice was soft, almost hesitant, as he helped you sit up, his hand guiding you gently. He reached for the glass of water from the bedside table, offering it to you with a quiet determination. Without thinking, you drank it in one go, the cool liquid helping to clear the fog in your mind. You nodded weakly, still feeling lightheaded, but trying to reassure him.

"You fainted," he said, his voice unsteady as he watched you closely, his brows furrowed in disbelief. You nodded again, still not fully processing what had just happened.

He looked at you, his eyes wide with surprise, lips parted in a mixture of concern and confusion. His expression was so pure, so real, it made something twist in your chest. You couldn’t help but chuckle, though it was soft, a little breathless.

"I’m fine, Jimin," you reassured him, the words coming out far less convincing than you hoped.

"No, you're not," he said firmly, his voice almost pleading, his tone so filled with worry it made your heart clench. "You fainted. Let’s go to doctor."

"I’m fine," you repeated, though the words felt weak. His eyes never left yours, searching for any sign that you were telling the truth. His hand reached up, rubbing his face in frustration, his worry only growing.

"And I’m worried," he said, the words hanging heavy in the air between you. His gaze softened, and you could see it in his eyes—the deep concern, the care that he couldn’t hide.

You felt a strange warmth spread through your chest, something raw and unspoken. But you also didn’t want him to act like this, not with you. Not now, not after everything.

“Why?” Your voice came out softer than you intended, almost a whisper, and you couldn’t look him in the eyes. It was the question you’d been asking yourself for so long, and now it slipped out before you could stop it. Your heart raced, your chest tightening as you waited for him to answer.

For a moment, he was silent. His eyes flickered with something unreadable, his gaze softening, and you could feel the tension between you grow thicker, thicker still. Then, as if to break the tension, he slowly reached up and tucked a strand of hair behind your ear, his touch so gentle it sent a shiver down your spine. His hand lingered, resting on your skin, as if he wasn’t ready to pull away.

“Sleep,” he murmured, the word leaving his lips like a tender command. But the last thing you wanted to do was sleep. The night was still young, the rain pouring outside, the sound of it filling the room. The cold breeze from the open window brushed against your skin, but it was nothing compared to the warmth in your chest.

“I’ll sleep on the couch in the living room,” he said, as if it was the most natural thing to do. You stared at him, confused, unsure why he was saying that. You hadn’t asked him to, hadn’t even thought of it.

“Why?” you asked, your voice cracking just slightly.

“Because you’re sleeping on my bed,” he said, his voice firm but kind, as if it was obvious. He made you lie back down, covering you with the duvet, the soft fabric comforting against your skin. As he stepped back, you couldn’t stop the aching feeling in your chest, that unbearable pull that made your heart beat faster.

He moved toward the door, slow and deliberate, like he didn’t want to leave but had to. Every step he took felt like an eternity, and you wanted to call out to him, tell him to stop. But you couldn’t. You didn’t have the words.

When he reached the door, he paused and turned around to face you. His gaze softened, and he smiled—a small, almost shy smile, but one that made your chest ache. "Sleep tight, love. We have something important to talk about tomorrow." And with that, he closed the door softly behind him.

You lay there in the quiet room, your heart still racing, your mind spinning. You stared at the door, your thoughts scattered, your breath shaky. Did he just…? Did he just call you love?

The word echoed in your head, a faint warmth spreading through your veins. It was too much, and yet, you couldn’t stop the flutter in your chest. The night had shifted, everything had shifted, but you didn’t know what it meant. You didn’t know what tomorrow would bring, but for the first time in a long while, you felt a flicker of hope.

And as the rain continued to pour outside, the sound somehow soothing your frayed nerves, you let your eyes flutter shut, your heart still thumping, your thoughts tangled in him.

I don’t know if you liked it or not, but please, leave some feedback. Like, tell me how much you loved it or absolutely hated it. I’m all ears... honestly, I’m mostly just here for the drama either way.

#thankyou so much for sending me this ask anon #thanks anon!#anon ask #kookiewithluv #bts ffs #bts ff #bts fanfic #bts smut #jimin fic #jimin smut #park jimin #bts jimin #jimin #jimin ah #jimin x reader #jimin x you #jiminshiii

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imaginethezeldaverse · 1 year ago

Note

I feel like you should type up something facesitting related about Ganon to make that ask reality (as much reality as you can get with fictional characters at least)

I…………………………………………………..oh my god okay yes

(this ask is in reference to this post)

“Sit” his voice commands from under you. The ferocity and domination in his amber eyes hold you in place, however. There’s apprehension pooling in your spine; youv’e worked your courage up to this point: kneeling just above his face but being unable to lower yourself any further your current frozen state. You had expressed a concern about bearing all of your weight on his face. A statement that simply lead to his laughter and in the exact position you were presently at.

Ganondorf’s tone drops a touch, thick fingers sinking into the meat of your thigh with a hint of power, “If I have to make you, rest assured you will lose the ability to walk for the remainder of the day. Sit.”

The whimper in your throat dies as you shift slightly, “A-Are…Are you sure?”

His snickering almost sounds threatening, a mix between devious amusement and an icy taunt. His hands glide up to sit at your hips now, pulling you down just enough so your thighs have no choice but to separate. He hums, the dark purr whirring in his throat as his breath rolls over your inner thighs - ghosting over what he’s finally exposed of you. The grip on your hips tightens,

“You could not hurt me even if you tried.”

Without another word, your body was yanked downward, your knees buckling completely as his mouth slotted over your heat. Doubled over from the rush of pleasure sending shockwaves through you, your hands finding purchase wherever they can roam - which for you seems to be aimless: the sheets, the long crimson locks of his hair, even mindlessly digging your nails into his forehead at one point. Ganondorf pinned you strategically to his face, his long, lithe tongue curling and writhing inside you, drinking from you as though he was a man desperately parched. Each salacious slurp and coiled lick around where you were most sensitive had your vision dotted in fading technicolor, your fingers unfurling and remaking the same fists over and over. Your voice had gone from breathy moans to full of on out-of-breath squealing when he maneuvered your hips to drag back and forth.

“G-Ganondor-ahh!” you whined, electricity zipping through your body at a record pace. His only response was a curt chuckle before lapping at you quicker this time. You were losing control, your body winding and unwinding, before crashing into a full spasm against his lips. With all the strength you could muster, your fingers locked into his fiery tresses, tugging at his scalp. Both of your breaths hitched in unison, though below you, Ganondorf instantly recovered, devouring you still through the tidal waves of your peak. Stuck in your throat was your voice, your hips able to do little other than rock over his still active mouth. Slowly his tongue ceased its ministrations, and you found the breath you’d be holding for the past several minutes. You shivered with ecstasy, chest heaving and lip trembling from the sheer strength of your orgasm. Your hand flattened out, untangling from his locks and bracing to lift yourself off of his face.

Oh but how foolish you were.

The same impassioned amber eyes kept focus on you, like a predator to its prey. His ears remained sharp at their catch of your confused sounds, especially when you can’t move away from him because he’s locked you in place.

It’s then you realize that Ganondorf was keeping true to his words. His previous brutish timbre rolls around in your skull, the reality sinking in when you realize his fingers haven’t moved an inch since he seated you onto his face.

You could only hope he’d be so kind as to carry you later.

#legend of zelda #legend of zelda: tears of the kingdom #loz: totk #tears of the kingdom #ganondorf #ganondorf x reader #nws #n$fw #totk ganondorf #totk fanfic #tears of the kingdom fanfiction #ganondorf imagines #ganondorf smut

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rottiens · 6 months ago

Text

✮ tags. . vampire gojo x afab! human reader, helltown au. divider creds: cafekitsune.

✮ cw. . 1.5k

It's late in Helltown, your boots struggle against the pile of white snow under your heavy boots and every so often you sniffle through your nose looking to somehow escape the cold that builds up on your face, exposed to your least favorite weather.

The trees rise above your head and lull you as if they carry words inside their leaves, autumn is giving way to winter and the whole transition, along with the news that has filled the papers these past weeks gives the picture a gloomy tone. Your hands are inside your coat while an icy air escapes through your pale lips.

You shouldn't be out on the street so late, much less alone, much less with the news of the disappearance of those young women.

It wasn't just disappearance. It was the murder of that young woman who studied at the same university where you teach and then her best friend who had been missing since Halloween night and of whom nothing was known after that day. The parents had announced rewards, and the local police were scraping clues even under the rocks; however no one had heard anything from her or anyone had managed to provide relevant information.

You grab the edge of the coat around your neck and pull it upwards in an attempt to battle the cold as your steps quicken, you are close to your house, however due to the lack of movement on the avenue it feels more like a much longer walk than it really is. All the doors and windows are closed, including the houses and premises, you only have the company of pale light bulbs illuminating the entrances and your way home.

A shiver runs down your back as the wind howls around you, a foreboding feeling tells you that you are not alone, though you dismiss one terrifying idea after another as this can and must be due to your suggestion. You grab the pepper spray inside your pocket as if your life depended on it and quickly turn around to verify that it was all in your head, holding the white bottle at the level of your head, your finger trembling on the tip of it.

The wind roars in your ears, the noise of the blood pumping overwhelms your senses. In the distance you hear fluttering and your eyes snap, checking the shadows for movement within them. You remain in this position for a few seconds, frozen in time, until your legs tingle with warm blood and you return to the front to hurry on your way.

Turning your eyes forward you meet a pair of piercing blue eyes that lock with yours for a few seconds before the man quickly looks away, you stifle a scream by clenching your jaw and the adrenaline makes you spray the pepper near his shoes.

You take two steps back, raising the pepper spray to a considerable height. The blue-eyed man wears a baggy black hooded sweatshirt and a leather jacket of the same color over it making uncovering the features of his face an impossible task.

“That's not how you use pepper spray,” he says in a strangely friendly voice.

You look him up and down wondering where he came from, though the voice sounds familiar, you don't remember seeing him anywhere before. Although you can't tell for sure since most of his face is covered, all you can see are those intense blue eyes scanning you up and down.

“Tell me who you are or I'm going to scream,” you warn him, raising the spray to the level of his face.

He raises his gloved hands to his chest in surrender.

“Hey, take it easy. It's me.” He brings his hands to his hood and pulls it back to reveal a shock of white hair swirling in the icy wind.

“Oh my...” Your horror turns to panic as you realize you were about to ruin the eyes of the new Biology teacher's assistant, he had only just moved to town a few weeks ago. You slowly shake your head, moving the spray away from his field of vision, back into your pockets. “I'm so sorry,” you utter, your panic slowly transforming into an embarrassment that burns like a torch on your face.

“It's okay,” he smiles sideways, pulling the hood back over his head. “You acted properly.”

The now not-so-stranger looks you up and down again, with those blue eyes that break the harmony of the white snow. You run away from them when you get the chance, hurrying your pace along with him who starts walking with you.

“It's terribly cold.” You laugh, downplaying the sudden fear that still rubs your veins against each other. “I'm freezing,” you try to make it sound like something to break the tense moment, but your voice comes out cracked as you hide your face in your coat at the same time as you lift your shoulders to get out of the chill.

“It is dangerous for you to be out here.” He looks down at you, you can feel it out of the corner of your eye.

“I know,” you stutter, avoiding those haunting eyes. “You mean because of the deaths and stuff?” As soon as you add the last you regret it, you really didn't want to talk about it. “I was running late reading my students' papers, then visiting my grandparents,” you add, giving him explanations he doesn't need to hear but you feel somehow compelled to say. “I hope the police catch them soon, whoever the culprit is,” you finally say with a frown, remembering the news.

“Hm.” Is all that comes from his lips. “Mind if I walk with you? I live close by anyway.”

At the proposal your heart pumps fast. Despite the fear you feel, you think it's better to accept than to walk alone. You nod, swallowing hard. Saliva cuts your dry throat.

You say your name waiting for him to introduce himself. “I haven't seen you around here before? Are you new to the neighborhood?”

“Yeah, I just moved in a little while ago. I- I've been watching you,” he whispers, you stop walking abruptly looking at him with wide eyes and quivering lips, pepper spray hovering against your fingers hidden in your pockets. The man stares at you for a few more seconds, before throwing his body back, chuckling. “I meant to say that I've observed your classes and you're good, my name is Gojo Satoru.”

You relax a little at the joke, forcing a smile but still tightening your spray, maybe you were too tense, maybe your friend's assistant... Satoru, how he had introduced himself, was nothing more than that. So still with your nerves making your senses more responsive you decide to keep walking beside him.

“Thank you,” you reply. “My house is the next one,” you point to a tall brick house around the corner.

“All right.” He walks in the same direction you pointed, still staying close to you. His steps are light, as if he's gliding along the sidewalk. “I imagine your husband must be worried.” You look at him briefly, clearly confused. “I mean the man who comes to pick you up from college sometimes...”

“Oh,” you chuckle. “No, no, that's just a friend. No husband... I live with my friend,” you say. “But now she's visiting her parents for the vacations.” This time your eyes go to him shortly, hair escaping through his hood in white snowflakes, falling softly over his eyes.

You flee to the road before he can notice, your cheeks burning. As you stand in front of the door, you pull your keys out of your backpack.

“Thanks for walking me out, Satoru.”

“No problem. I'm glad I could help you get home safe and sound.” He gives you a warm smile even though you can't appreciate the fear and hesitation of the moment.

You want to invite him in and be nice, but you know your friend would slap you if you told her about the stranger you let in the house knowing there's a killer on the loose. So you smile weakly at him and lean your body forward momentarily in a bow.

“I'll see you at school,” you say instead.

Satoru doesn't reply anything else. He remains still, standing a few feet from the front door, waving his fingers in a goodbye that you cut off as you close the wooden door. Inside, the heat envelops you and you let out a purr of reassurance. Warmth surrounds your neck and cheeks cool as a woolen scarf, and you sigh in relief, letting out the fear and tension that encounter had caused you.

Satoru was a interesting guy… You try hard not to think of situations that might make your job uncomfortable, but you can't help the questions that arise in your mind. You wish, deep down, to know a little more about this mysterious man.

#wr #vampire gojo #gojo x reader #gojo x you #gojo x y/n #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru x you #gojo satoru x y/n #helltown au

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magics-neptunes-things · 1 year ago

Text

Camping Love

Hi guys :)

This one is based on this request, I hope everyone will like it :) First time writing for Lia, but she's like the sweetest girl ever, so enjoy :)

Resume : Your girlfriend take you camping in Switzerland.

TW : None.

______________________________________________________________

You were not surprised when Lia proposed to you to go camping. You know how much she loves being outside. She can pass hours picking up leaves in her garden, walking tirelessly in the forest and simply enjoy the fresh air whenever she has the opportunity. It's therefore no surprise to anyone that her choice of home was a small house set back from the city, close to nature. Even if it lengthens her journey to work every day.

You’re not a footballer, it’s actually Leah Williamson who played matchmaker between you two. After Lia's break-up, the blonde made the decision to present her the one she imagined perfect for her, not wishing that her friend suffers again. It just so happens that one of her childhood friends was back in town, single after a recent breakup. You.

Things with Lia took a little time to set up, both suspicious to open her heart to another person again. You must admit that you have longly tested the sincerity of the Swiss girl, but her unfailing patience and honesty have finally convinced you. Apart from all the other qualities that qualify her, obviously. Leah has already proclaimed herself the First Lady of your possible future marriage, and that amuses you very much. You know you owe her a lot.

"Should we settle here?" Lia suggests, looking around.

You do the same before nodding. You’ve been wandering around the Bernese mountains all day and the place you’re in is pretty good. There is no one around, a small lake to refresh yourself and the view is especially breathtaking.

You were never one to camp before meeting Lia, but she showed you that it could be more than just sleeping on the ground in a tent that can’t hold the cold. So you watch her build the tent with expertise, proud and surprised to discover her talents as an architect. She turns around and catches you looking at her butt, smiling at you.

"I did nothing" you justify while raising both hands.

"Exactly" she laughs gently before pointing at her backpack with a nod. "Get our stuff out please."

You smile maliciously and obey, taking out what she asks you. You also say her that you will write to Leah to inform her that you are still alive, the captain being convinced that you will be eaten by a bear.

"She's so dramatic. There are no bears here, only wolves."

"Huh?"

Eyes wide open, you raise your head towards Lia who bursts with laughter. You can’t tell if she’s laughing or not, but you don’t know if you really want to know.

"I’ll tell Leah to come get me."

Lia laughs again, but she managed to set up your tent in the meantime. You take care of inflating the mattresses and let her manage the rest, realizing your uselessness. But the Swiss captain doesn't seem to be bothered by this in the least, a smile never leaving her lips.

"A little bath now?"

You accept with pleasure, changing quickly to put on the swimsuit that your girlfriend advised you to take. The water is icy, but after walking all day it does make your leg muscles feel good. You do sports, but in a much less advanced way than Lia and you are therefore less accustomed than her to intense muscle fatigue.

The next game is to see which of the two gets the most wet and you can happily announce that you are the winner.

And the rock you slipped on has absolutely nothing to do with it.

"Are you ok?" asks Lia, smiling when you return to the tent.

You nod, without being able to mask your teeth that snap in spite of you. You are frozen. You don’t fool the beautiful eyes of Lia, who takes you against her to lay a kiss on your forehead.

"Go change, I’ll light a fire."

You accept happily, quickly getting rid of your wet swimsuit to put on clean and dry clothes. The outfit you opt for is not the sexiest, you come out with sneakers, a pair of jogging pants with the Swiss national team crest that you clearly stole from Lia and a hoodie. You also folded the hood on head to protect you from the cold.

When you reach Lia, the fire cracks lazily, the noise immediately bringing a comforting side. The heat that emanates too. You sit next to it, letting your girlfriend go change too. Even if you grumble a little for form, you really appreciate the place in which you find yourself. And being able to have Lia just for you for a few days suits you very well. You went to her family before coming camping and there are other people to see after. Fortunately, each member of her family seems to accept with open arms.

"Hello you" you whisper softly when she comes back to you, passing your arm around her waist.

"Why do I feel like I know this pants?" Lia say with an amused smile, stroking the patch with her fingertips.

"I don’t know what you’re talking about."

Lia laughs softly and it makes you smile. A look is exchanged between you two, who do not need to utter a word. You just hold her tight, let her put her head on your shoulder. You both get lost in your thoughts, watching the sun disappear behind the mountain in front of you.

"Are you still cold?" Lia gently asks after a few minutes.

Instead of answering, you slip your icy fingers under her clothes with an evil smile. The good news is that the cry that escapes from Lia’s lips has undoubtedly helped to scare away all the wildlife around you. The bad news is you were tortured to tickles for long minutes after that.

********

Lia.Walti Instagram

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lia.walti Happy life with Schatzi ♥ @Y/NInstagram

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alessiarusso I'm freezing just looking at this picture

Y/NInstagram Ich liebe dich 🤍🤍🤍

↳ lia.walti Glad to see my lessons begin to serve

↳ Y/Instagram I have a very persuasive teacher ;)

↳ ramona.bachmann Ew

leahwilliamsonn OMG are you both alive?

↳ Y/NInstagram Yes it's quite nice actually :) (Send help please Leah, she's trying to murder me)

↳ lia.walti Watch out.

#woso x reader #woso imagine #lia walti x reader #lia wälti x reader #lia walti #lia walti imagine

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the-kr8tor · 6 months ago

Text

What is Normal for the Spider is Chaos to the Fly

Pairing: Cowboy! Hobie Brown x fem! Reader

Word count: 8.7 k

Tags: Use of Y/N sparsely, No specific physical description of the reader, CW violence and gore, CW blood, TW death, CW guns, CW food mention.

Our Place in the Middle of Nowhere Masterlist

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CHAPTER 3 >>> CHAPTER 4

Eyes closed, you breathe in the fresh spring breeze, the first of many this season. Pollen makes your nose itch, bees buzz around the field of flowers, yellow dots kissing the soft petals. A babbling brook sits near you, perfect spherical rocks worn down by the waters makes you want to skip them across the transparent clean water where fish lie and swim right under the currents.

The bright sun above shines down on you, its light fighting through your eyelids and through the canopy of the oak tree. Its strong trunk provides the perfect back rest, the wood is stable and protective of your relaxed form. Like the softest carpet, the green grass below is splayed under you. Blades of grass and wildflowers swaying amidst the wind just like how your lashes flutter with every soft blow of the cool air.

“Why'd you stop?” Hobie asks from below. You crack open your eyes to see his lopsided smile, jade eyes crinkling in the corners. His head is resting on your lap, fingers absentmindedly playing a tune on the beaten up guitar on his chest. There's flowers in his hair, courtesy of you. “C’mon, lovie, I was just starting to fall asleep.”

You chuckle, and he smiles wider. The sun bathes you in its glow, a halo of light around your head, a heavenly sight for a mere mortal. “You're spoiled you know.” You realize your fingers are in his hair, soft fingertips paused on his skin. Your vision goes blurry, with a blink, everything shifts back. “So spoiled.”

“Says the one who was born with a silver spoon in her mouth.” He says it with no ounce of malice.

“How'd you know about spoony?” You joke, he laughs, a sound better than anything you've ever heard of. “How was work?”

“Lonesome, you didn't come by.” You tilt your head, lips pursing into a soft smile. “Do I still smell like gunpowder to you?”

“No, you smell like flowers.”

“Is it too late to say that I'm allergic to ‘em?”

You giggle, “No you're not. You haven't even sneezed.” Grabbing a daisy from his hair to wiggle it under his nose, his face scrunches up comedically, and then he fakes a sneeze. The loudness of it startles the birds nesting by the branches, wings fluttering rapidly further away.

“Good job, you scared the birds.” You look down at him, hand inching closer to the daisy ring you've made a while ago.

“What? I can't sneeze?” His eyes are glued to you, the sun paints a pretty picture of his viridescent eyes shining in the light.

With a deep inhale, you take his hand away from the guitar, slipping the flower ring you've been itching to place on his finger. Hobie seems to freeze up either in your touch or the sight of the makeshift ring. You show him your hand, an identical white flower whose stems are wrapped gingerly around your middle finger.

“Ta dah.” You say shyly. The tightness around your chest clenches at his silence. “I'll take it off, I'm sorry. I thought—”

Hobie quickly reaches up to shield the ring away from you, “No, don't—it’s brilliant. Thank you.” You beam at him as he intertwines his fingers around your own, the rings in full display. “Suits me, I think. But it looks better on you.” You inhale, the comfortable warmth is replaced by icy air. Everything shifts.

The breeze is colder now, the grass is frozen under your feet, frost clinging to each blade. The canopy is no more, only dark angled branches with tiny leaves hang off the precious oak tree. A puff of smoke billows out of your dry lips, Hobie hugs you closer, hand rubbing up and down your arm, body heat shielding you from frost bite.

“Cold?”

“Yes, very.” You shiver, and he holds you closer. “This sunset better be worth it, Hobie, I had to put down a really good botanical book for this.” You say, cheek pressed atop his chest, breath warming his neck. You'd choose him over any book.

“First sunset of the season, love. It's worth it, I promise.” Without a second thought, he takes his coat off to place it over your shivering shoulders. You huddle closer, wrapping yourself around him. Sharing your warmth.

Blue slowly ebbs away as he pulls you closer. The clouds part ways for red and orange, pink splashes across the sky, a watercolour painting that leaves you gasping for air. Or was it his lips upon yours for the first time that has you heaving for air?

Hobie kisses you with the gentleness only a lover could provide, yet with the tentativeness of someone who isn't sure you'd kiss back. The pads of his fingers brush along your jaw, ghosting over your flustered flesh. With a sigh and a pull on his jacket collar, you kiss back. Lips pecking the corner of his own, clouds of smoke mixing in, hands warm on your searing cheeks— he slowly leads you towards the same oak tree. Your back hits the wood with an almost silent thump, his hand protecting the back of your head. Eyes closed, you memorize his lips by kiss alone. Your hands knead at his nape, he shivers not from the cold.

“I'm in love with you.” He says it confidently, like he's been saying it to himself for years. He feels like he has.

“I've been waiting to hear you say that.” Your eyes meet his own in a dance. Eyes flicking down to his lips, jade eyes looking between your blown out eyes and your quivering lips. “I've been in love with you. For a really long time.” You feel his lips open, mouthing the three words back against your own. It's barely above a whisper but you know that he'll scream it if you asked.

A flash of his warm hands around your own, a glimpse of a knife carving yours and his initials on the wood that you both call home. A muffled promise lingers in your ears, soft, just like his lips on yours.

You open your eyes and you see him above you. Hobie pinches your nose with a laugh, calloused fingertips squeezing lovingly at you, emerald eyes swimming with affection. The warm air passes by, humidity stuck in your nose. The sweat of your brow is quickly wiped away by him.

“Stop sayin' that, yeah?” You don't remember what you said. “You're bloody gorgeous, she doesn't know real beauty even if it hits her powdered arse.”

“Hobie!” You laugh, hands planted on his hips, the fabric of his shirt is hitched up for easy access. “She's still my aunt, and my legal guardian.”

“Unfortunately.”

Your smile agrees with him, but if you say it out loud you're afraid that the ground will swallow you alive and Hobie will be ripped away from you.

“It's a nice day today, you plannin’ on gropin’ me the whole afternoon?”

“Yep!” You look down at where his hands are placed, palms cupping you right above your ribs. “You planning on doing the same to me?”

“Say otherwise and I'll take my hands away from you—”

“No!” You say quickly before he could finish.

Hobie guffaws loudly, face leaning closer to yours. You close your eyes, expecting the expected. Instead, his head falls on the crook of your neck, blowing warm air into your skin.

Your laughs echoes around the clearing, fading into the sound of leaves crunching under your footsteps.

Orange leaves fall down on you like rain, a puff of breeze settles in your muscles, rattling your bones. Despite the cold, you inch your way closer to him, his smile beckons you over, grassy spring coloured eyes lighting up at the mere sight of you. His back resting on the strong oak tree that carries both your names.

“You know, we could always meet up at your place now that you're the up and coming associate.” You hold your hand out towards him, his fingers slide on your palm so naturally that you think you're made for eachother. “We can stop sneaking around now thanks to you.”

Hobie feels like he can finally breathe once he has his hands on you. He twists your wrist gently, leaning down, he presses a quick kiss on your pulse, eyes meeting your own. Years of being together, and he still makes your heart race.

Warm lips on your skin, he pecks it again for good measure before leaning away and pulling you closer. His hands are around your hip, while you wrap yours over his shoulders. “We could. But even after all my hard work, your aunt still doesn't—won't approve of us together. I'm me and you're you, love. What would they say when they see their heiress skulkin’ around the harbour, hm?”

“They won't say anything because I'm good at skulking around.”

“Or they'd say you're hurtin' your prospects of a good husband.”

“Fuck them! You and my garden are all I need.”

He calls your name solemnly, “we have to face the fact that—”

“What? That I'll be stuck in a loveless marriage in the near future?” You shake your head. “I refuse.” A humourless laugh breaks through.

“Good thing you said that or this will be awkward.” Hobie takes out a pair of gold rings from his pocket, it shimmers in the sunset, cold metal upon his warm trembling hands. “It took me a hundred days to save up for them, they're scraps from the factory. All melted together to make a pair.”

“Y–you're stealing from us now?” You could barely finish your joking sentence with the sob fighting to escape your throat.

Hobie laughs, a breathy one that has you mentally making up another joke just to hear it again. “Been at it since they hired me.” He hands you one, not sliding it down your finger, no, he places it right in the middle of your palm. “Remember those daisy rings you made years ago?” You nod, eyes brimming with tears. “I've made ‘em real this time. But the next one would be pure gold, none of the mixed ones I've melted with it.” He bounces on the balls of his feet as you glance at the gold ring that is a hodgepodge of different shades of yellow gold. Some seem to be darker, some lighter. “You deserve real ones.”

“You could make me a ring out of grass and wood, and I'll still wear it everyday.” Taking the ring, you slide it into your middle finger, a promise, he says in your ears, a promise, you repeat against his lips as you slip his own ring around his finger. A promise you both carved out into the tree and into your hearts, a promise that you'd carve out into your skin if you could.

The smell of burning wood wakes you up with a start, You've woken up with tears trapped in your eyelashes.

Your eyes open to a boiling pot of brown liquid. It's familiar, awfully so that you've hated it, it reminds you of someone you'd rather not remember. Looking up at the sky that is darkened to a pale blue, turning the orange and green plains into its royal colour— The roaring open fire is the only bright thing in sight, a yellow glow amidst all the bitter blue.

The amber flames screams among the dead silence and the vast emptiness, ‘Someone’s here! Someone’s alive over here!’ yet, you don't feel like you are.

You cough from the cold, throat itching from dryness. Lifting your hands up to tug the blanket further up, you now notice the deep crescent moons left on your palms. Some even bled through the night, dried blood decorating the lines on your palms and under your fingernails.

“You're awake. Good.” Hobie's voice hits you like a carriage, sleep ridden mind still hazy. For a second you thought that you're still dreaming of him. But his solid form and smoke from his cigarette resting on a stone says he's real. Your mind can't dream of something so tethered to reality like this. “You want some?” He rattles the now empty tin cup, brown liquid dripping from the rim to the ground below.

“You're offering me a cup?”

He furrows his pierced brows. “‘course, there's plenty.”

“No, thank you. Do you have something to eat instead? Or water?” Sitting up, you wipe the sleep off your eyes. Your joints hurt, stomach gurgling, and ankle aching. You hate it here, he's the only one that's making everything bearable even though he looks like he'd rather be anywhere else than be with you. It still hurts, thinking that he does.

“Yeah.” Standing up with a groan, it seems like sleep didn't agree with him either. There's bags under his eyes, worsened by the shadow from the brim of his hat. Taking something from his pack on Buckeye, who still slumbers quietly, he holds out a canteen and a piece of dried meat wrapped in cloth. “‘ere.” The familiar scar on the back of your hand has him reeling away. He remembers the day you got it, he remembers how his hand trembled as he stitches your hand back together.

“Thank you.” You say, stiffly smiling. He nods, returning back to his seat.

Breakfast went over fast, with dawn turning into morning, and the crisp air warming down, you take the blanket off your shoulders. Bucky trotts on the road, coyotes chirp on your left and a tumbleweed passes by on your right. It feels like you and Hobie are the only people on the road, or even in the whole world.

You clear your throat, attempting to break the quiet after riding for hours in absolute silence. “So…are you an outlaw? A mercenary for hire, or even a trapper?”

“‘m one of those things, yes.”

“So mysterious. You know you're still an open book to me.” Looking over your shoulder, he grabs your chin to make you look away and to keep your eyes on the dirt road. To which you laugh at. “Yep, still an open book.” It's true that you still know him for the man that he was, but there's missing pieces of him in your mind. You intend to dive to find the pieces so you could piece together who he is today. Before you go home, before you part forever again.

“How would you know?” Hobie tamps down a smile even though you won't be able to see it. “Maybe I've changed in those five years.”

“Oh you have.” You'd know. “But I can still see through you. I know you, Hobart Brown. Or did you also change your name too?”

“It's Larry now.”

“You serious?” Looking behind, you see him sporting a smirk. A smile spreads across your lips at his playfulness, a semblance of the Hobie you once knew.

“For example?” He asks, something he might regret. “What do you see through me?”

“Well, you put this big bad façade up because it's what everyone expects you to be. But in truth, it's so you could survive here. I bet it's working well since you're still here breathing.”

“I don't care what anybody thinks, Y/N.”

“I know that too. But you still do it because you don't want them talking to you, coming close to you. I remember how hard it was to even get you to speak to me.”

“I was a kid, we were children, and I was new in town.”

“I got you to talk though. Still proud of myself that I got to see the real you.” You puff out your chest. “This place is just like our old town, you know. Harsher, yes, but this time you don't bother to try, not like last time.” Your voice lowers into a murmur. He knows why he doesn't bother, because there's no one out here that could get him out of his walled up shell just like you did. There's no one like you. “I still know you, after all these years. Even if you think I don't, or at least the version of you that you left me with.” The sky gets darker, grey clouds floating next to white fluffy ones, and you still remember how he held you the first time you shared a bed. “You've changed and I confess that I barely know this side of you. I don't know what happened to you in those five years but could you let me try to get to know you again? Just like last time?”

The clouds above darken his green eyes, something passes by them, something that has his hands gripping tighter around the reins.

“It's goin’ to rain.” Is all he could say. “We should hurry and find shelter, there's a shortcut I know.”

You inhale the sharp familiar smell of petrichor, letting it settle in your lungs, letting it drown you, letting it seep through your skin so you can focus on it rather than the flatness of his voice that lacks what you're used to.

“Sure,” you swallow thickly, nails digging into your hemp bindings instead of your flesh.

Hobie clicks his tongue thrice, a sharp almost whistle, and out runs Bucky faster on the sandy lonesome road. Hooves thudding like the rumble of the heavens above, a lightning storm races behind you, sparks of light flashing and clashing on the mountainous rocks of the west.

“Hold on,” Hobie whispers close to the shell of your ear, goosebumps spreading through you like poison ivy on skin. He leans forward, leather clad body shielding you from the harsh howling winds that approaches quickly. “This storm's comin' in fast.”

Wind whips your cheeks, cool air making you narrow your eyes into slits to protect it from the dusty debris. A silhouette of a person appears at the end of the road, you feel Hobie stiffen up from the suspicious man. Arms cage you in, the mysterious man's shadow gets closer and closer as Bucky whines and halts to a stop. Hobie hides your hands with his own, a small act that brings your mind a minute of peace.

“State your business.” Hobie says in a practiced tone, commanding like the one he used with the man who snatched you.

The old man walks with a twisted cane, a makeshift one made from an old branch. His eyes are dull and almost silver, blue rings around his irises, eyebrows thick and white, beard bushy and hair almost gone. Right behind him lies a dip in the road, a chasm from where you sat, a deep gorge from what you surmise. Right next to the road sits a dingy solemn cabin, roof looking like it's about to collapse under its own weight, hinges creaking, window shutters opening and closing harshly from the wind. A border collie barks at you, mismatched eyes unwavering, warning you of something to come.

“Just ‘ere to warn you, son.” The old stranger trembles, either from the cold or from his bad leg. “Anyone who come ‘ver down that road doesn't come out unscathed.” He wipes his face with the sleeve of his yellowed shirt. “Just tryin' be a good samaritan.”

“Yeah? Penance for the war then?” You give Hobie a look. He glances over to you in return.

“I was on yer side, son. I won't be out ‘ere warnin’ you and the missus if I wasn't now eh?”

“Thank you for the warning.” You pipe up, the brief silence has made the whole situation more awkward. “We'll try another route then—”

“No,” Hobie stands his ground, “just like she said, thank you for the warnin’ but that's the closest route to Strawberry.”

The man takes his hat off even with the intense shaking of his hand. He then places it on his chest like he's already mourning you. “Safe travels. Don't say I didn't warn ya.” With a whistle, the dog runs over to him before helping him walk home.

“Wait!” The man stops in his tracks, even the dog turns around to face you. “A storm's coming, you'll be cold. Here.” Sliding your hands away from Hobie's, you take the blanket from your lap.

“My eyes are bad but do I see you givin' me your coat?” He smiles toothily.

“Y/N—” Hobie warns.

“Yes, but it's a blanket, not a coat.” The man chuckles deeply, cheeks red and warm.

He whistles again, and the dog walks over to you. “Give it ‘ere to ol' Nellie.” The dog wags her tail, tongue lolling.

“Hi, Nellie,” you giggle as you lean down to place the fabric in her mouth. “Take good care of it. Good girl.” Hobie's hand is holding your waist, single handedly preventing you from falling over.

He remembers your kindness, how you don't falter when you see someone you can help. You're unequivocally kindhearted, a stark contrast to himself, and what he has become in those five years he wasn't by your side. He remembers how much he loved and longed for you. He needs to know who sent the letter on his behalf, but it can wait, maybe he'll thank them when he does find them.

You don't notice him look at you with the same expression he had years ago.

With a happy wag of her tail, Nellie skips over to her owner, handing him your blanket. “Thank you, miss, you've got a kind soul.” There's warmth in your chest, nodding towards the man. “You take care now. And you.” He looks over your companion. “Better watch her back and protect her kind soul eh?”

“Get inside, don't want you gettin' my blanket drenched.”

A laugh billows out as he waves you away. Entering his humble abode with a loud bang of his door.

“I think we should listen to him.” You say above the winds.

“We'll be fine,” Hobie's voice is softer. “I've been ��ere before. Just listen to me, yeah?” He kicks gently, and Bucky takes his cue to run in the same direction again.

“If I listened to you back there then the poor man would've shivered from the cold.”

“And now you'll be the one shivering from the cold.”

“He needed it more than I did.” You almost scoff as you hold on tighter around the horn of the saddle while Bucky trudges downward on the slope and into the gorge.

“Don't expect me to get you a new one.”

Now you scoff. “Then don't.” Yet, your chest clenches from his words.

Buckeye finally slows down halfway through the gorge. Hobie inhales deeply, jade eyes flicking above the rocks. The walls seem to close in on you, fifty foot tall walls of ancient stone looming over you. A stream runs along the path, murky brown water splashing with every movement.

“Why'd you slow down—?” Your eyes widen at the moving figures above. “There's people up there.” You whisper as you watch them observe you. The bows on their back gather your attention, eyes piercing through you than the sharpest of arrows. Hobie suddenly grabs your chin, still gentle but with a sense of urgency this time. He turns your head towards the road, rough leather sliding from your chin to your hands.

“Keep your eyes on the road. And keep your mouth shut.”

“Will they let us pass?”

“Yes.” He says immediately.

“Do you know them?”

“Yes, now keep quiet.” Tipping the brim of hat in respect, you do as you're told. “Or they'll be the one askin' me questions. And we don't have time for friendly banter.”

When he says those words, you hear a whisper of his name from above, then a bout of laughter echoing downwards. Subtly looking over your shoulder, you see him crack a small smile.

You turn back towards the road, a soft morose smile on your lips from how much you've missed from his life. You want to know what happened to him in those five years, to be told stories of his adventures under the campfire. To be part of those stories once more, not whatever you're in with him. An afterthought, a burden.

You're starting to feel all the love he once gave you was just from your mind. Made up by you, dreamt and imagined.

—

The cave you've found shelter in is perfect. It's big enough to house you and Hobie, even Bucky rests inside, dry and happy while his dark eyes follow you— as if trying to keep an eye out for you. The cave protects you from the hammering rain outside and from the lightning that pierces the clouds. You lean on the rocky mouth of the cave, hands reaching outside to cup the rain and feel the sharp water droplets drench your skin. Lifting your head up, you watch the sky. The storm has no end in sight, yet, there’s a bit of light passing through the grey, a ray of sunshine that brings hope, blue peeking in between the dark clouds.

Water splashes against your flesh, cleaning the tiny gashes and dried blood that you're not sure is all from your body. The rope that binds you is soaked, weighing heavy around your wrists like steel bracelets.

Wind howling, lightning cutting through the sky like a bullet through skin— You don't feel his heavy gaze on you.

The roaring fire behind you provides warmth just like the man tending to it. And like the fire he's tending, he realizes that his affection for you still burns him inside out no matter how he tries to snuff it out.

The fire crackles, you watch your shadow dance with the flame's movements. You still don't feel his heavy stare on your back.

With a forced smile, an idea pops in your head. You let the water on your palms fall, flicking away the droplets, making your own patch of rain.

“I've got a proposition.”

“Come eat, smelly” You both speak at the same time, amusement flashes behind his precious emerald eyes that's illuminated by the embers.

"I don't smell." You laugh in between, loving the fact that he seems to be in a better mood. Sniffing at yourself, you scrunch up your nose from the smell. "That much. You're not any better.”

Hobie shakes his head, hiding the curl of his lips with the brim of his hat. He places a can of peaches in your direction. “We'll be in Strawberry by late afternoon. There's an inn there where we can rest and bathe.”

Sitting down next to him but still giving him enough space, you tuck your legs under you, wiggling your hands in front of him.

“Can you untie me now? I'm not going to run, Hobie. Where will I go?”

“Tell me about your so-called proposition.” Hobie raises a brow, teeth biting down and clenched around the leather before fully yanking his glove off. You suddenly feel hot when he unties your hands without another word.

There's no identical ring around his finger. Your happiness is snatched away at the sight of his empty finger. What was once a promise is now gone from his flesh that you used to trace with your own hands.

Clearing your throat, you watch the shadows on the cave walls flicker behind him. “W–we take the scenic route. I want to see the sights the new world has to offer. Before returning.” You don't even want to call it home anymore.

“The new world? You sound like a grandma.”

“You saying ‘state your business’ wasn't any better, grandpa.”

Hobie's eyes meet your own, green eyes aglow. A remnant of the Hobie five years ago. You could get used to this, his warm gaze that soothes you from the inside out, something that you never took for granted before but never thought you'd miss dearly. You welcome it back with open arms. Even if it was brief.

A flash of bright lightning hits outside your cave, startling you, free hand placed on your quaking chest.

“It's just lightning, love.” A freudian slip, a term of endearment that travels you both back in time. Now that he said it once more, he finds that it still fits you like a warm hug on a cold winter's day, or a first kiss, one of many.

Slowly turning your head, your lips tremble, eyes watering from a silent cry. You try to reach for him, but he deflects your touch by twisting around on his seat, taking a swig from his canteen. The only one that he has.

Quietly eating, your insides are yelling for you to hold him close, to be near him, to hug him until the screaming stops. You can't satiate the feeling, it bites at your bones, chewing, eating at you, going hungry, starving. You stand up, leaving the can of peaches on the ground, returning to the mouth of the cave so the feeling will ravage you alone once again like it always has for the past five years. You've survived this long, but there's barely anything left of you now— a husk, barely a speck, so you cry and cry, sobs muffled by the rain.

You don't feel his gaze on you. He feels the same gnawing feeling in his belly, crawling up to his chest, eating what's left of his heart like a vulture that carries all his grief and guilt.

—

You're back on the road again, the ground is wet and muddy. Clay and grass sticking to Bucky's hooves as he trudges along the soil. You purposely don't remind him about the missing rope around your wrist. Loving the freedom the lack of it brings, you brush your fingers through Buckeye’s hair; dark wavy tresses that reminds you of fine silk.

“You take good care of him.”

“You said that already.”

“I know, I'm just saying it again for emphasis. I hope you're taking care of yourself too.”

You feel him shift in his seat, fatigue rattling his bones that's exacerbated by the rocking movement.

“Do you feel alright?” You ask, looking over your shoulder. His eyebrows are furrowed, sweat dribbling from his forehead.

“‘m fine.”

“You don't look fine. Riding bareback this long hurts, we can switch places—”

“It would be better if you had your own horse.” Hobie groans, stretching his shoulders. Buckeye seems to notice the conversation, huffing and staring back at his rider. “‘m not replacing you, Bucky. Not yet anyway.”

The dark horse neighs, a high pitched sound that makes you laugh. “He was not happy with that.”

“He's not happy with anythin'” Hobie shakes his head at the horse, you're amused by the whole situation. “Picky eater, always demanding sugar cubes instead of a carrot or an apple. Fuckin' spoiled.” Bucky neighs again, louder this time, clearly annoyed.

“Just like his rider.” You giggle, Hobie stifles a roll of his eyes, a ghost of a smile on his pierced lips. “Careful with your comments or he might buck you off and have me as his rider instead.”

Hobie's amusement fades, his eyes hardens, a sight that has your heart thrumming loudly, a sight that you're very familiar with back at home.

“I‘m sorry— I–I didn't mean to.” You frantically apologize, shaking your head, hand reaching for his own, palm hovering over his gloves.

“Look ahead.” He gestures forward. “Nothin' to apologize for, love.”

“Are you sure?” You can't seem to slow down your breathing.

Hobie notices, blinking, he tentatively takes your hand in his. Squeezing once, jade eyes searching your hurt face. Guilt passes through him.

He should've come back for you.

“Yes,” he swallows thickly, slowing down Bucky's steps. “Breathe for me, yeah?” You nod, inhaling and exhaling. “Good, keep doin' that.” Inhale, exhale, “atta girl. Now listen to me, I need you to hold on tight, and do what I say.”

“What's wrong?” Did you do something wrong again? You hold on tight just like he asked.

“Eyes up front, sweetheart.” The floodgates open, he can't stop himself from calling you those honeyed names. And you can't stop looking at him. With a gentle hold to your chin, he carefully moves it forward. You see five people waving you over further down the road. They're accompanied by a broken down carriage, three wheels missing, no oxen in sight, just a few horses hitched near them.

They call you over, grinning from ear to ear. “Oh thank God!” You hear them say, their forms getting closer and closer.

“They need help.” You say, Hobie's hand around the reins tightens.

“And we're not goin' to give it to ‘em.”

“What? Why?”

“That's bait, we're not fallin’ for it.” His eyes don't leave the strangers’ hands.

“Bait—? They genuinely look like they need help.”

“We're close to town, and they have horses. They could've gone over there instead of flagging down an armed stranger.”

“I'm not armed.”

“Yes, but I am.” With a swift kick, Hobie guides Buckeye to a mad dash. Your back hits his chest from the sudden momentum. A dull ache on your spine, a tingling sensation on his ribs.

Buckeye passes by the broken carriage, leaving dust in their eyes. “C’mon, Bucky! Get us out of ‘ere, boy!”

Wind in your eyes, you look behind, your heart falls in your stomach when you see them follow immediately on their horses, guns drawn, aiming at Hobie.

“Oh fuck!” A bullet whizzes past your head, missing you by just a few inches. You feel it's hot searing metal fly past, “they're shooting at us! Why the fuck—!”

Hobie twists, with one hand on the reins, and the other on his gun, he shoots down one man with precision. The bullet hits its mark, right in his heart. A fountain of crimson splashes from his wounded body, his feet still strapped in the stirrups, flinging the now lifeless body around like a window shutter in a storm.

Hobie shoots again, a horse falls, another bullet, and one gets iron in their gullet. And another and another, one on the leg and one on the shoulder, but they still ride on. Until Hobie's gun clicks, its chamber now empty, in slow motion, you see the remaining survivors use the opportunity to aim at Hobie's head. With quick thinking, you twist uncomfortably, body stretching behind to grab the hunting rifle strapped on Bucky's back. Within a second, you sit upright with the barrel pointing at them.

Hobie sees it all happen while he frantically reloads. His gun jams from carelessness, heart beating like a snare drum, fingers frantically trying to fix it. The sun is in his eyes as he sees you cock your head over his shoulder, the long barrel of the rifle is placed atop his leather jacket, finger itching to press the trigger.

“Duck.” Your voice is calm as Hobie follows through your command, the firing pin ignites, sparks fly, the smell of gunpowder permeates the air, bullet whizzing and hitting your mark— Right in between the eyes.

Gore explodes from what used to be a head, then a scream from the remaining target. Hobie steers Bucky, whilst you fight. Fight for him, and for yourself.

Pulling the bolt handle, without missing a beat you release the shell with a clink of metal. The remaining man looks at his dead companion in horror, still riding on next to him, now missing a head. Just like they did, you use the opportunity to reload, hand reaching for Hobie's gun belt, taking what you need, reloading with an expert hand. You pull the bolt to place the bullet, pushing it in, you aim once again. At the same time, the man screams, aiming at you. But you're faster.

Inhale. You shoot, hand steady, eyes focused.

A wet squelch can be heard, then a body thuds harshly on the ground as a horse neighs, crying and trotting wildly. You finally exhale. Hobie reins Bucky in, hooves digging in, he stops.

“Holy shit.” Hobie stares at you with a growing smile, cheeks aflame, not from the adrenaline nor the fight. “You can shoot.”

“You taught me.” Your eyes doesn't leave the violence you left behind.

“Yeah, but not like that!” He laughs in disbelief. His heart hammers in his chest, and he remembers all the times he held your hand in his while he teaches you the basics.

“What do you think I've been doing since you left?” You swallow thickly, nerves catching up, hands trembling around the rifle. “My books can only take me so far until I've read the entire library.”

Hobie holds your cheek, face concerned, thumb running along the tear you don't notice slide down your cheek. “Can you look at me, lovie?”

Slowly but surely, you turn your head. ��We manufacture guns, Hobie, it's important for me to learn.”

“I know, but shootin’ it at people is different.” He would know, he worked at the same place. “Are you alright?”

“Now you ask me that?” You hand him the rifle, breath shuddering. “Can we go now, please?”

Hobie could only nod, hand itching to hold you again.

—

You finally reach Strawberry, it has a sweet sounding name but it's anything but sweet. The streets are thick with mud, the smell is much better than the other town but it still makes your nose itch. The place is situated on the foot of a mountain, the air is cooler with heavy winds persisting. Rows and rows of establishments lie along the road, a saloon with a balcony on your right, a doctor's office on your left. Convenient, you think.

A brothel sits next to the saloon, women gathered around on the porch, smiling and hollering at the people who pass by. Hobie garners their attention, (who wouldn't be?) despite riding with you on the same horse. He doesn't give them any attention, a disappointment on their part. His eyes are too busy looking over your profile and the inn that's situated on the hill.

You flick your eyes over to him, as if he has a sixth sense, he stares back. “What?”

“Nothing.” You whisper.

Hobie hides a small smile over your shoulder. He stops Buckeye at the front of the inn, hopping off, he hitches his horse first before giving you a hand, surprising you.

Without a second thought, you take his outstretched hand, bare against his leather clad one. You land carefully on the soft ground, cringing at the wet squelch of mud on your shoes.

“I need a bath,” you stomp over towards the porch and out of the mud. Hobie's hand finally leaves your side once you step foot on the steady planks. “And a nice bed.”

“That's why we're ‘ere.” He says while he takes his pack from Bucky's back. Giving the horse a pet and a much deserved sugarcube. He whispers something to the horse, to which Bucky neighs in reply. Stepping on the porch right next to you, the dark horse nods at his rider.

You laugh at them. “What'd you tell him?”

“I promised him a place at the stable so he could get a proper rest. ‘m gonna take him once you're inside.”

“Are you gonna leave me here?” Panic sets in your stomach.

Hobie furrows his brows, “no, ‘course not.” I'd never do that. He thinks, but he already did, years ago. “C’mon.”

Bucky neighs to you this time, tail swishing behind him. “G’night, Buck.” You give him a small wave. “You did a good job today.”

Entering the inn, the smell of pine and something fruity catches your nose. Its walls are all wooden, lined with old photos and animal furs. There's a fireplace in the common area where a couple of people sit and chat by the fire. The place is cozy, it's the first time you feel like you can finally have a nice comfortable place to sleep in since you landed in America.

Hobie knocks on the reception desk, leaning on the table, clearly tired and weary. Whilst you try not to think about what you did earlier, you roam your eyes everywhere in an attempt to push all the thoughts away, to kick the gore you saw, and the act that you've executed far far away from you. Your hand trembles at the sight of a deer head hanging on the wall. Then you remember the man whose head you blasted to pieces. Heart beating faster, breath stuck in your throat, Hobie suddenly takes your hand— squeezing, reminding you to breathe.

Before he could comfort you further, a middle aged man appears behind the desk. Shoulders broad, mustache well maintained and curled at the ends. Blue eyes wide and full of wisdom.

“Welcome to Strawberry inn.” He says in a comfortable yet deep tone. His eyes flick towards your intertwined hands, lips smiling faintly. “The name's Finn, room for one?”

Hobie clears his throat, taking his hand back on his side. “Yes, two beds.”

“Ah, a conservative couple eh?”

“Sure,” Hobie acts, nodding along.

“Name?”

“Larry Smith. And baths for the missus and I.”

Finn nods, showing him a sign on his desk. “three dollars for a regular one, five for a deluxe bath.”

“Deluxe?” You ask, curious.

Hobie beats Finn to the punch by explaining it himself. “It's when a woman helps you scrub down.”

You blink twice in quick succession. “Oh.” Cheeks warm, you awkwardly bounce on your feet. “A–are you going to take the deluxe one, Ho–Larry?”

“I might.” He says with a smirk, eyes shining.

“Okay.” You crane your neck towards Finn, “what's our room number?” Your tone inches towards something that has Hobie amused.

“Uh, three—” You're already snatching the keys from him and then quickly speed walking up the stairs. You turn to the right, Finn calls after you. “Left side, ma’am.” Frustrated, you walk the other way. He then turns towards Hobie with a shake of his head. “Happy wife, happy life, english. Don't tease her like that or you'll end up sleeping in the stables.”

Hobie bites his tongue so he couldn't laugh. “I know that now, thanks, mate.”

—

You feel nice, nicer than you should be after what you did. There's a pebble inside you that keeps growing and growing in the pit of your stomach right next to the boulder that has resided there for years. You have no idea what is, but you want it gone just like how you disappear under the tepid water of the tub.

Hobie has laid out clothes for you, it sits on the chair in the corner. A white work shirt that smells like him and a pair of clean socks. Your skirt hangs on the doorway, days worth of dirt and dust clinging to it. The walls are thin, you hear the hinges squeak in the next room, the arguing couple above; and a child's cry from below. The water laps at your chin, now cold and icy on your slowly freezing skin. Like muscle memory, you hold your hand up, the jagged long scar across the back of your hand has you tracing the remnants of the injury— what he used to do to remind you that he's there, that you're safe. But when he left, when he disappeared into the night, leaving you to the horrid predetermined life, you had to do it yourself. You had to carry yourself everyday with the heavy boulder in your heart, surviving each day without him, hurting, rotting in that damned empty mansion you never asked for.

You thought you could finally take the boulder out of you and place it down once and for all when you saw him. it's still there, weighing you down like a hundred ton steel of grief and longing. You don't resent him for what he did, running away, leaving you when the night before he promised you sweet words, words of freedom, words of an escape. No, you don't hate him. Yes, there's days where you would curse his name, but it never lasts. It never does, even now. You still love him even when he doesn't feel the same way anymore.

Your eyes prick from all the unshed tears, everything makes you cry nowadays, even the old lonesome man you met on the road brought a tear to your melancholy eyes. But you can't seem to find the courage to cry in front of him, to let him see your salty tears flow out of you like a raging river of sorrow. And moreso, you're afraid, afraid of home, afraid of what's waiting for you at the end of the road. Whether it be a coyote with its maw opening to lunge at your neck. Or a rattlesnake ready to strike silently at your open wound.

You're not afraid of him, you're afraid to lose him again to the coyotes and rattlesnakes.

Lifting both hands, you watch the blood that collects within the lines of your palms. Rubies ebbing into your life line, your love lines, and into your death— you'd carry the life you've taken until you're six feet underground, decaying, milky bones turning to dust, food for the worms. And yet, the blood in your hands would stay there, even when your hands are eaten by the soil, brought back to where you once came.

Hobie's right, this place changes you. Molds you into something that can survive its harsh environment, just like the plants you once read about. And just like the coiling vines, the flowers that wait and bite their prey; the leaves that kill when cut— you intend to survive the harshness of it all.

With a deep inhale, you leave the metal tub. Water splashes across the floor as you stand up, the even colder air leaves goosebumps in its wake. You dry yourself and dress like an automaton, movements rigid, eyes blank.

Opening the door with a creak, you're met with Hobie standing in the hallway, just across from you. His hand still lingers around the doorknob, viridescent eyes blinking slowly at you.

For a second that felt like hours, you watched each other. How his eyes flick over your form and over his work shirt that you wear. How water still clings to his chest, soaking parts of his white shirt. And how his finger twitches around the doorknob whilst steam escapes from the slits in the doorway. He observes you with vigilant eyes, how your lips are slightly parted, chest breathing heavily. And how much your legs are begging to run towards him, feet pointed in his direction, heels lifted up slightly, but you don't. You don't run to him, instead, you toss him the keys to the room before he could ask for it himself. He catches it with ease.

“You're closer to the room.” Walking closer, you rub your arms for warmth.

Hobie sniffs, hand wiping a stray droplet from his forehead, pack slung over his shoulder. He unlocks the door that's a few steps away, with a click, he opens it for you.

“You look like you're about to pass out.”

You push past him, trying to smile, but you fail. “I feel like I will in a second—” pausing by the doorway, you sharply inhale. “You asked for two beds right?”

“Yeah— fucker.” Hobie clicks his tongue at the sight of the single bed standing in the room. “I'll go get our rooms changed.”

“I'm fucking tired, Hobs.” You lumber your way towards the inviting bed, too tired to even check the room and its sparse décor. “Complain tomorrow. It's not like we haven't shared a bed before.”

“That was different—”

“How is it any different?” Shucking off your shoes, you blink at him through tired eyes. “It's just sleeping next to each other. We were doing anything but that back then.”

He curses breathlessly under his breath. “Fine, don't hog the blanket.”

“Don't kick in your sleep.” You smile for the first time since you pulled the trigger. Slithering inside the warm covers, you lay your head on the lumpy pillows. Heaven to you after sleeping but nothing on the ground or hay for the past few weeks.

“I don't kick in my sleep.” Hobie does the same, laying next to you, giving you enough space in between. “You're the one who kicks in your sleep. Like a fuckin' donkey.”

You lay on your side, inching closer to him. “Please, I'm more of a mustang, not a donkey.”

“Back then you were more like the rider than a horse.” He jokes with a smug smile across his lips.

Your cheeks are aflame, laugh creeping up your throat. The heaviness in your chest subsides, the blood in your hands thins. “You wanna bet?”

Hobie's joking expression is replaced by something else. Flustered, amused, and a mix of an emotion that he has only felt for you. “Fuckin' hell, love.” He turns away from you, lest he lets his thoughts get to him. “Good night, you fuckin' minx.” He hears you laugh, immediately he wants to turn back around and meet you face to face, just like before. But he doesn't.

You're met with his back. The feeling comes back, like a cockroach that wouldn't die even with how much you try to stomp on it. It was foolish to think that he'd love you forever. It was foolish to think that he'd greet you with open arms after years of being apart. How foolish, they'd always whisper to you, naive, and stupid, always standing on the edge of the crowd, eyes always looking for something, someone. Someone that lays before you now.

“Good night, Hobie.” He mouths your next words like clockwork. “Only dream of good things.” You refrain from doing the next thing, a kiss for sweet dreams, a whisper of the three words to remind him of you in the dreamworld.

Hobie silently wishes you did.

Soon enough, soft snores can be heard from behind him. Peeking over his shoulder, he makes sure you're asleep before quietly standing up. Sheets rustling, he tiptoes over the noisy planks, breathing silent. Hobie takes a chair from the corner, propping it under the doorknob, shaking the chair, he makes sure that it's locked up tightly. He can never be sure with the simple singular lock on the door.

Once he's sure that it will hold up, he takes his gun from the hanging gun belt, checking the chamber, he keeps it on the waistband of his trousers. After checking all the windows and the fireplace, he finally joins you back in bed. Gun placed on the bedside, ready to be used just in case. Laying on his side, he faces you, observing how the moon shines just across your face. You look peaceful, relaxed, and he remembers how much he has missed you. Like an impossible itch. A craving that cannot be satiated. Incurable, until you're within reach.

His tired eyes stare at the glaring scar across the back of your hand. Hobie remembers how you got the scar on your hand, it was warm that day, searing hot whilst you ran into the woods frantically to meet him. As a result of your unmindful actions, a sharp branch takes a chunk of your skin; leaving him to sew it close for you. He reminisces of how your face contorts to pain with every suture, and how you grip his shoulder to tamp down your screams. He wasn't careful, or even thinking about how it would scar, he just wanted to get it over with so you'd stop hurting. He held you for hours after, held you more after your great aunt saw the damage. She called you broken that day.

He blinks and he's back to the present. He can never go back. You can never go back. So he inches his hand closer to yours, pinky brushing along your skin. Finally, he curls his pinky finger around your ring finger. Linking his life line to yours. Just like he always does to the identical hidden ring around his neck. Your scar peers from the side, a reminder that everything that happened before was real. That all those saccharin touches and words were flesh and blood. He wishes he could go back, to take you away the moment she called you broken.

In his sleep he dreams of you.

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whoreish-behaviour · 1 year ago

Text

Rain and Rooftops

Miguel O’hara x F!Reader

Enemies to lovers fluff ig and use of google translate (my Spanish grandparents are defo cussing me out) NO SPOILERS I think??

You could feel your body temperature slowly drop, bones threatening to rattle against your dimming soul as you stared out into the city below - cold and harsh wetness rapidly falling against your once warm cheeks.

The rain seemed to melt against you once it hit your cooling skin, the icy water running fast and unforgiving - turning everything so numb that you couldn't feel the warmth of your tears as they fell too - mixing and sloshing together.

You didn't bother to fix your lopsided bomber jacket, your ripped 'hero' costume exposing most of your upper-body and letting the rain lick away at the various cuts and soothe the bruises.

It was oddly comforting.

Averting your eyes, you trailed over the rapidly growing pool around you, smears of red becoming more and more prominent the more you let yourself sit.

You were too tired to move.

Too tired to fight.

Fiddling with the mask in your hand, you waited patiently - feeling yourself grow more limp as your decision sunk in, smiling fondly at the cloud of pride blooming in your chest at how long you had survived.

You were beginning to think he was going easy on you but today proved how grossly wrong your underestimation was.

'Estoy empezando a pensar que has olvidado cómo hablar Bandog.' You weakly joked, the nickname rolling off your tongue.

'I'm starting to think you've forgotten how to speak Bandog.'

His sigh from somewhere behind you made the smile on your lips deepen even more.

'Your nickname is stupid.'

If you had the energy to shrug you would've, probably even spit a few nasty remarks about how he fitted the description of a bandog more than the breed itself and then boom - make a hasty get-a-way by the skin of your teeth and find another temporary home to call yours until you were found again.

You didn't reply.

You didn't move a single muscle when the pool of rain around you reflected a different kind of red, more fluorescent and mixed with a equally bright blue.

His obnoxiously brilliant suit poked at the corner of your stare, almost demanding your attention as he kneeled next to you, another sigh interrupting the cool rain and the sound of your soulless breathing.

You ignored his stare.

'No smart remarks or new tricks to show off?' You could feel his stare analysing you - guessing your next move although all your chest pieces laid scattered across the board beaten.

Your obvious defeat was humiliating to say the least but you refused to admit it aloud.

Instead you just allowed yourself to crumble, mask slipping from your grip and landing with a splat and your cheeks growing warm once again as your tears caught up to the rain.

I give up, it was so easy to say but your lips remained sealed.

Miguel watched silently as you seemed to deteriorate right beside him, ears just waiting for the words to leave you but even he knew that despite how utterly defeated you looked, you'd never give him that much.

He'd wait anyways though, it just made this all that much easier.

'I told you that you couldn't just run away niña pequeña. So. Many. Times.'

And now you were hurt.

He evaded his stare when you refused to spare a glance his way, jaw set in a hard and unforgiving grind as the rain surrounding you both bounced directly off his suit and onto the roof below in wet sloshes.

Yours, or what was left of it, allowed the water in - welcoming it to rock your temperature to a point where you looked frozen over, body the most unmoving and still he’d ever seen it.

He had been chasing you for almost a year now, your weekly run in’s together always ending worse than the one before.

He finally had you.

Yet, he didn't budge from he was kneeled beside your form - something raw and stubborn in his gut telling him to just stay fucking put.

In his head he replayed the last half an hour in his head, over and over again - searching in his brain for the exact moment you were injured but coming up short.

Coming to the conclusion that it must've been one of the other five spider-folk who's mission was to bring you in, he furrowed his eyebrows and scowled deeply at the relief that it wasn't him.

'Idiota.' He muttered to himself lowly.

He felt his chin jutt instinctually forward in surprise when there was a sudden weight on his bicep, the coldness emitting from the touch so much that he could feel it seep through his suit.

His hair swayed slightly as he turned his head to look down at you, head resting against him and your chin tipped down so he was barley able to catch a glimpse of your soft features.

He watched silently, eyes darting to your chest to make sure it rose and fell as it should before back up to you.

However, you were slowly slumping further and further down - supple cheek that was once squished against him now sliding away.

His arm opposite you shot out to cup your jaw in his large hand, careful of his now retracting claws and tilting your head up to his view - thumb and index making your cheeks look chubby and plush like.

He scoffed but felt himself relax slightly, lips twitching ever so slightly at the corners.

He gazed at you for a moment, red eyes taking in every feature that he was never give the chance to properly even look at, your goal of wriggling out his grip every chance you got proving successful so far.

Releasing his hold on you - he allowed you to fall, gravity pulling your weight down before he caught you and scooped you up with now both his hands.

He averted his eyes as he stood, almost as if it was taboo to have your form smooched to his chest and dead to the world - however the only remotely ‘forbidden' thing happening was the spread of warmth in his chest.

He felt lighter somehow, his footsteps weightless as he effortlessly carried you.

Hands moving on muscle memory, he fiddled with his watch - your body still supported by his forearms as sudden sparks of light and rapidly moving swirls materialised in front of him.

Using the excuse of having to wait for the portal to finalise itself, he allowed himself an innocent and brief glance down at you - lips set in a pout and disturbed slightly from where you had nudged your way impossibly closer to him.

He was just checking for any more scrapes or bruises that was all-

'Woahh, you finally caught her?' Miguel snapped his red eyes to the sudden appearance of Jess, her sunglass covered gaze peering down at you curiously.

'Yes.' He deadpanned, rolling his eyes.

'Only took you a year, you wanna wake her up or.?'

He let a beat pass over then before he sidestepped her, mask replacing over his face as he did.

'She's fine where she is.'

Daydreamed this and I've never rushed back home so fast in my life

Kofi <3

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the-iceni-bitch · 11 months ago

Text

𝖂𝖍𝖊𝖓 𝖄𝖔𝖚 𝕲𝖔 𝖀𝖓𝖉𝖊𝖗 𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖂𝖆𝖛𝖊𝖘, 𝖂𝖍𝖆𝖙 𝖆𝖒 𝕴 𝕾𝖚𝖕𝖕𝖔𝖘𝖊𝖉 𝖙𝖔 𝕾𝖆𝖞?

𝙼𝚎𝚛𝚖𝚊𝚗 𝚃𝚑𝚘𝚛 𝙾𝚍𝚒𝚗𝚜𝚘𝚗

𝚈𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚖𝚘𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛 𝚑𝚊𝚜 𝚋𝚒𝚐 𝚙𝚕𝚊𝚗𝚜 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚖𝚊𝚛𝚛𝚒𝚊𝚐𝚎. 𝚂𝚘 𝚑𝚘𝚙𝚎𝚏𝚞𝚕𝚕𝚢 𝚜𝚑𝚎 𝚗𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚛 𝚍𝚒𝚜𝚌𝚘𝚟𝚎𝚛𝚜 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚊𝚕 𝚊𝚠𝚊𝚢 𝚎𝚊𝚌𝚑 𝚗𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝 𝚝𝚘 𝚎𝚗𝚓𝚘𝚢 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚜𝚎𝚌𝚛𝚎𝚝 𝚎𝚖𝚋𝚛𝚊𝚌𝚎 𝚘𝚏 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚕𝚘𝚟𝚎𝚛.

𝙰𝚕𝚋𝚞𝚝𝚘𝚙𝚑𝚒𝚕𝚒𝚊 ~ 𝙰 𝚜𝚎𝚡𝚞𝚊𝚕 𝚏𝚎𝚝𝚒𝚜𝚑 𝚠𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎 𝚊𝚗 𝚒𝚗𝚍𝚒𝚟𝚒𝚍𝚞𝚊𝚕 𝚏𝚎𝚎𝚕𝚜 𝚊𝚛𝚘𝚞𝚜𝚎𝚍 𝚋𝚢 𝚠𝚊𝚝𝚎𝚛

Relationship: merman (havmand) Thor Odinson c princess!reader

Words: ~2.2k

Warnings: explicit language, explicit sexual content (unprotected vaginal and anal sex, size difference, multiple orgasms, double penetration), pet names, dub-con, SMUT!! 18+ ONLY!!!

A/N: I know it’s not October or 2023 anymore, but let’s not all about that. Let’s just talk about the fact that Thor is big and beefy and has two dicks.

I am no longer doing taglists so if you want to stay up to date on all my fics, follow my sideblog @the-iceni-library .

You felt as though you didn’t have any tears left to cry while you stayed curled up in your bed. You could still hear your mother shouting at you through your door, though it did seem as though she was finally walking away as her voice was getting quieter. Perhaps she was finally going to leave you alone.

The thought of having to leave your home made you sob again in spite of your lack of tears. Leaving the sea and the cliffs you were used to and having to be surrounded by mountains sounded like torture. You needed the sound of the waves crashing against the towering rocks and the smell of the salt air as the wind carried its spray against your face. What were you supposed to do with the scent of snow and pine?

At some point your eyes drifted closed, and when you opened them again it was the middle of the night. The moon was reflecting off the sea below your window. You rubbed your eyes as you rose to your feet to open it, sighing at the scent of brine and frozen air made goosebumps rise on your skin. Another hour passed with you just staring at the ocean, the movement of the waves and the silvery light of the moon stirring something deep inside you. That was when you made your decision. You couldn’t be the wife to some king in a frozen, rocky wasteland. The sea was your life, it meant everything to you.

Your dressing gown slid to the floor so you were standing in nothing but your shift. A few steadying breaths were all you needed before you climbed out of your window and found purchase on the notches in the stone wall of your tower that you had scrambled down so many times before. Even though it was slick from the spray and starting to get icy, you still made it down in one piece. It was freezing, but it made you feel alive.

As soon as you reached solid ground you didn’t hesitate, running the few meters to the cliff’s edge and diving off into the empty air. Wind whipped around you for the perhaps three seconds before you entered the water and the shock of cold forced all of the breath from your lungs. There was no time to adjust, though, you had to start swimming. You breathed deeply when you resurfaced, your limbs fighting against the brutal push and pull of the waves as you made your way to deeper waters.

Every time your body was rocked by the waves your breath caught in your throat. It was like the sea was calling your name, desperately trying to pull you under and make you one with its murky depths. If you didn’t have a goal in mind you may have let it, but your eyes were fixed on the massive rock that rose from the waves a few miles from the coast, the one that was almost an island unto itself. His rock.

You were almost there when something wrapped around your waist and pulled you under the waves, making you scream as seawater burned your throat.

“Do not scream, kjæreste,” the sound of his voice immediately soothed you, your face tucking perfectly into Thor’s neck when he rolled onto his back and carried you towards the rock that was his home above the sea, “swimming in the middle of the night, there are far more dangerous things then I that rise from the depths at this hour, little princess.”

“I don’t care,” even in the freezing cold water he was warm, as was his smile when you peeked up at him through your lashes. “It would be better than what my mother has planned for me.”

“She still intends to marry you to the inland princeling, then?” Thor lifted you onto the slick black stone and climbed up after you, hushing you when you immediately crawled into his arms and buried your face in his chest. “My sweet little princess, you haven’t even met the man, you may like him.”

“No I won’t,” you gave him a stubborn pout. “I need the sea, I need you. I love you, Thor.”

“Little one…” Thor kissed the top of your head when you pressed your body even closer to his. “You may or you may not, kjæreste. Give it time. When you have been married to your princeling for a few years it will pass.”

“Don’t say that!” Your wail was truly miserable, your tears falling freely as you looked up at Thor with a wretched expression. “I don’t want to marry him! I want to be with you! Don’t make me go back, please.”

“You do not realize what you are asking, princess.” Thor stroked your hair and let out a deep sigh. “You would never be able to go home. You would never see another human being for the rest of your life.”

“I don’t want anything except you.” You clambered so you were straddling his tail, running your fingers through his golden hair and grinding against his sheath. “Only you, Thor. You’re all I need.”

“You are such a tenacious little thing, I do not believe I could ever say no to you.” Thor pulled you close and kissed you deeply, groaning into your mouth as he felt his cocks sliding from their sheath and growing hard under your ass. “You must be sure though, little one. You must tell me now that you can give up your family, the land of your birth, and all of your friends to be mine. That you will stay true even when I must stay beneath the sea for weeks at a time. Can you promise me, kjæreste?”

You felt your lower lip starting to quiver as you gazed at him. Of course you would miss your family and your friends, and the thought of not seeing them ever again gave you pause. But you really did love Thor. He was like the sea brought to life, and you could no sooner live without him than you could the sea itself.

“I promise, Thor.” You moaned into his mouth and fluttered your eyes when he kissed you deeply, one of his large hands gripping the edge of your shift and dragging it up your hips. The fingers of his other hand were suddenly filling your mouth and you sucked on them greedily, making sure to soak them with your spit as they muffled the sound of your voice. “I love you.”

“And I love you, little princess.” Thor smiled warmly as he dragged his fingers out of your mouth and kissed you again, his tongue tracing the curves of your lips as he slipped his spit-soaked fingers between the cheeks of your ass and teased them over the satiny skin of your asshole. “Just remember to keep breathing for me.”

Even though you nodded you couldn’t help but choke on your tongue when suddenly both of the trembling holes between your legs were full of him; your pussy with one of his thick cocks and your ass with two of his fingers as he stretched you in preparation. He swallowed each pathetic, desperate noise that fell from your lips when he started to move, cooing softly when your cunt fluttered around him and your fingers gripped his hair at the base of his neck. It was exceptionally adorable how quickly you turned into a whimpering mess once he started to fuck you, but he found it endearing.

You were very quickly starting to fall under the same spell you always fell under once he was inside you, murmuring nonsense words in between your whimpers while you struggled to move your body on top of his. He was so big, he always made you feel so tiny but never more so than when the two of you were locked together like this. The way he stretched you open to take him was almost painful from the strain but you secretly loved it, and when he removed his fingers from your ass and replaced them with his second cock you couldn’t do more than let out a garbled scream of pleasure as an orgasm raged through your body.

Thor took control when your body succumbed to the unimaginable bliss he always inflicted on you, kissing you gently in a way that contrasted beautifully with the sudden sharp and brutal movements of his hips. You were lost in a warm, gray haze when he rolled the two of you so he was on top, mumbling when you felt the sharp scrape of his teeth along your jaw as he fucked into you with abandon. Even in your incoherent state you still rolled your body to meet his, your breasts pressed against the smooth plane of his chest and your fingers clawing across his back as they struggled to find purchase on his slick skin.

Even though he made his home in the arctic waters of your country, Thor was so warm. Slippery and warm and large all over. It was addictive, like bathing in the volcanic pools and hot springs you had enjoyed in your youth. But in truth they were nothing like having Thor fuck you. Both of his cocks seemed to fit inside you perfectly, drawing orgasm after orgasm out of your body until your own body was almost as slick as his. His hands seemed to be everywhere at once; cupping your breasts and squeezing your ass, gripping your hips and massaging your thighs. Then suddenly they were holding your face tenderly as he kissed all the breath from your body and fucked you so deep you could feel him in your throat.

When he ground against your clit you sobbed, your pussy fluttering wildly and your asshole clenching around each of his cocks as he kept moving faster and deeper. Your eyes stayed fixed on his even as they grew glassy and unfocused, your lips moving as though in a silent prayer as he growled into your mouth and began to thrust even more wildly. Thor’s lips trailed down your throat as you squirted and writhed against him, the low timbre of his voice vibrating your whole body and making everything even more intense.

You let him move your body however he pleased, putting up no resistance when he grabbed your wrists and pinned them above your head. When he bit your shoulder you just whined, shaking when the sudden sharp pain drew another climax from your exhausted body. It had never been like this before. It had always been intense and passionate but not like this. It was as though he was doing everything in his power to make his mark on you, and you were accepting it without protest.

All of your focus suddenly snapped to the sensations between your legs, one final, practically painful orgasm ripping through your body and making you scream so loudly the rock shook from the sound. And then his cocks were swelling and stretching you even wider and you could feel yourself about to pass out, the sudden warm rush of his cum into the deepest parts of you finally pushing over the edge into pitch black emptiness. Thor sighed as he watched your body sag and your eyes roll back in your head, smiling at you and gently cupping your cheek as you slid into unconsciousness. He took a few minutes to enjoy the sight of your sleeping form before carefully pulling out of you, chuckling when your pussy and asshole clenched around the emptiness and his seed dripped from your wide-stretched holes.

He pushed you into a corner near one of the steam vents to keep you warm while you slept, kissing your forehead before sliding back towards the sea and silently slipping into the water. It didn’t take him long at all to reach the murky depths, swimming through the algae as he sought the underwater cave he needed. Brunnhilde was there waiting for him, grinning wickedly as she flexed her tentacles around the stone she was reclining on and toyed with a brightly colored anemone. It was rare that she traveled this far north, but they’re kingdoms were friendly, and the sea witch would always be there for her friend and whatever assistance she could lend to his sinister ambitions.

“I take it your little princess gave her consent?” She chuckled darkly when he nodded, swirling her fingers through the cold water and sighing when it glowed with her magic. “How many have you collected now, seventeen?”

“Nineteen.” Thor found his own rock to rest against, burrowing his tail in the volcanic sand and beaming at his friend. “One for each of the rocks in the bay. Though I do find myself growing incredibly fond of this one.” A seahorse made the mistake of swimming too close to the havmand and he snarled as he snatched it from the water and ripped it in half with his teeth before chewing and swallowing. “If I sacrifice the others do you think you could work up a spell that might allow me to keep her?”

#natalie writes #monstrous mayhem #kinktober 2023 #merman!thor odinson #thor odinson #thor #thor odinson x reader #thor odinson x you #thor odinson x y/n #thor x reader #female!reader #marvel au #eighteen plus #thor odinson smut

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tadpolesonalgae · 9 months ago

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Fear of the Dark

Dark!Ghost!Azriel x reader

synopsis: after escaping from the Shadowsinger, the High Lord provides you with a new home, in a location entirely of your own choosing. One that just so happens to be frequently visited by window-rattling blizzards, and snow so heavy you’ll often find yourself trapped within the supposedly safe haven. But when things begin moving on their own, and shadows stalk your well-lit halls, you begin to think maybe the Spymaster somehow eluded death, too.

warnings: references to implied noncon, dark!az, paranormal events, nonconsensual touching (shoulders, mouth, hip)

a/n: dedicating this to @azrielhours , and inspired by her wonderful Company of Phantoms🧡💛

want to know more?

word count: 1,963

-Fear of the Cold-

It’s been six months since he died in the fire.

Six months of roaring screams echoing through the desolate hallways.

Half a year.

It goes by quickly when swallowed by delusion. Of persistent psychosis.

Of imagined shadows stalking your corridors. Of dragging footsteps just outside your chambers. Of the windows rattling, and not from the sudden blizzards that sometimes hit—seemingly out of nowhere. Unpredictable, and haunting.

Some days you’ll wake up, greeted by the barren landscape or grey skies and greyer rock, and others all that lays there is white. Blinding, dominating white, like a blanket smothering the harsh, unforgiving terrain.

You know why you picked here to be your place of refuge. For complete isolation.

The rocky landscape means no one could stumble upon your house without intention, tucked up in the sides of the rugged mountain, weathered by icy rain and lashing winds that could make the blood in your fingertips recoil in the space of a breath. Cold so penetrating it could snatch the air from your lungs.

Few understand the true horror of the cold.

Absolute, inescapable cold.

Nature’s blade, that could cleave glaciers in two.

With the stormy skies, there is no access by air. Winged creatures staying clear of your northern-facing home. And yet, despite the utter isolation, you’re faced with company.

After not even a week in your new house, the hairs had been rising at the back of your neck. Unexplainable drafts ghosting up your spine, or kissing the length of your throat. Doors clicking shut during the grey hours of limited daylight. Books that fall from low shelves, the chandeliers that swing softly when you enter a room, plates that appear where they hadn’t been left.

It’s rarely dark in your house, but the weight is smothering. Every corner is kept clear of shadow, flame purging the darkness with a quiet conviction that feels almost reassuring. But there’s nothing reassuring about your new home. Forearms almost constantly littered in goosebumps, hairs rising, skin prickling.

Even at night, candles burn away at the dark, eating at every shadow that tries to crawl in from the cold. But it feels like lighting a fire in the barren wasteland of the frozen tundra. Flame blazing with superficial strength, until it melts the snow bowing the branches far above, ice slipping free, and smothering the fire in one smooth avalanche.

The glass is rattling again, deathly cold wind whipping, icy rain lashing down as you try to lower yourself into sleep. But every time you near that precipice, something pulls you back: the groan of heavy wooden beams that creak through your house, flame flickering with dwindling light as if blown by a ghostly breath, a strange coldness rising from the foot of your bed. That seeps into your blankets first, then spreads to your feet. Slowly crawling up your body, until you’re wrapped in the haunting embrace of long-dead arms.

Even fire can’t always clear his kind of dark.

Dark that smothers, and festers. That concentrates in the hollow space beneath your bed, that hides in the softness of your pillow, that lurks in the pits of your pupils.

He found a way inside, and now he’s sunk his claws in. Like hooked blades that disembowel when they’re extracted. You’d have to empty your brains out into a bucket to be free of him.

Even then, your body would remember. His touch memorised into the tissue of skin, his terror embedded in the sinew of flesh.

The window spiderwebs, the distinct sound of fracturing glass dumping icy water over your near sleeping form. Hauling you up from the pit of an ocean, wrapped in seaweed to face the stormy grit of the blizzard outside.

Instead, your attention is sucked in by the ever-shifting shadow at the foot of your bed, chilling wind pouring in through the glass, candles winking out. Swallowed in darkness.

The air is pulled from your lungs faster than the cold can snatch it, sat bolt upright in your still-cooling bed.

The darkness holds no recognisable form, simply clustered together as a writhing mass of overwhelming shadow, but there’s no mistaking who it is. Who lurks beneath those suffocatingly concentrated umbras. Inky and undulating.

You’re frozen to your mattress, an icicle thawing out far above as it drips cold sweat down onto your brow, every breath biting at your lungs, making your throat raw.

It’s dark, and you have no protection as he looms so tauntingly before you, hands trembling as they try to grip the freezing sheets. But you can hardly move.

Air chokes in your throat as the shadowy mass expands forward, encroaching toward the foot of your bed. Your eyes widen with terror, watching as talons of darkness spider-crawl onto your duvet, feet recoiling like hot blood against the cold, knees pulling up to your chest, back pressed against the headboard.

“You’re dead,” you breathe out, air thin and slippery between your lips. “You’re dead. You can’t hurt me.”

Your stomach seizes, lurching as the shadowy tendrils stutter in their movements, like shoulders shaking with silent mirth. You get the feeling he’s laughing. Crawling closer still.

He reaches past your feet, darkness swarming over your knees, and within the cloying night you can feel the weight of hands. Of heavy, corporeal touch. One that sinks into your bones as they tremble with old fear.

“You can’t be here,” you whisper, pressing tight into the cold cushioning of the headboard, head tucking into your shoulders as you try to pull away from his overwhelming darkness, writhing throughout the deathly cold room, his touch like ice. “Leave me…” you breathe, voice breaking.

The weight of a palm weighs into the mattress, beside your hip, tying you in place as the living night, faceless and dominating, swells above you.

Your hand reaches sharply for your bedside table, viciously shaking fingers fumbling with the box of matches, sliding the cardboard out with a last trembling hope. Again the darkness stutters, a shadowy laugh whispering beside your ear, an icy draft kissing up the length of your throat.

The match strikes…once…twice…three time before sizzling into a small lick of flame.

In the few seconds of light you’re afforded, shadow easily melts away, pulling out instead hauntingly dark hazel eyes, piercing as the flame sharpens them. The cold, dead mouth that had once hungrily claimed your own, teeth dragging and prominent as they bit you into pieces. The eerily pale tones of his face, warmth vacant from the smooth planes.

You choke on a breath.

Soft, cruel lips curve at the edge, eyes twinkling with the reflection of your match, before his weight shifts over the bed and scarred, calloused fingers pinch out the flame. Skin that remembers its burn now extinguishing it without thought, freed from its sizzling agony.

You scream into the darkness, sinking down into the false safety of your duvet, hauling it over your head as you tuck yourself tight, trembling violently despite desperate attempts to still yourself. A cry breaks from your lips as you feel himself lower over you, directly atop you, trapped beneath his bulk. A cannonball shackled to your ankle, pulling you beneath a frozen lake, blood icing in your veins.

He shouldn’t be here, shouldn’t be alive.

You heard him die, watched as the flesh slid from his bones, muscle melting beneath the blazing inferno of the house fire.

You smelled it. Could taste it in the smokey air.

“Come out…come out…,” the shadow rasps mirthfully, weight brushing atop the blanket, stroking down your arm, drifting to your hip. Touch biting into bone. “Come out…and play…”

“Go away,” you beg under your breath, squeezing yourself tight, tears burning as they drip over the bridge of your nose, sliding off your face. “Leave me alone…”

The darkness laughs, and your stomach seizes as the duvet is slowly pulled back, dragged firmly from your grip. Numbed fingers try to grapple with the sheets, but he’s so much stronger than you. Just as he’s always been.

“Stop it…” you beg, trying to turn to the side as the blanket is pulled away, revealing his swarming darkness that looms above, with a weight that should not be possible. A spectre should not be corporeal, should not have the right to touch the living. He should have lost that privilege upon passing.

Icy fingertips brush your cheek, and a small cry breaks from your lips, quiet and terrified, eyes squeezed shut in feeble attempts to keep him out as the storm rages.

He dips down, and chilly breath grazes the space beneath your jaw, a whimper pulling from your throat as a broad palm makes its way up your front, settling across your sternum heavily, pressing down on your chest, making it difficult to breathe.

“Please…” you whisper, crying now, “just leave me alone…”

His cold mouth opens over your neck, soft lips sealing over a patch of skin as he tastes you, tongue slowly licking over the junction between your shoulder and neck. Darkness shrouds your bedroom, encasing you in a perpetually cold bubble, sealing out the lashing wind and rain, but trapping you in mist. Thick and impenetrable.

The phantom pulls away, lips grazing your jaw, and even with your eyes closed you can feel his proximity. The piercing weight of his attention as it presses up against your skin.

“Call out for me,” he rasps, voice shadowy and shifting, as if speaking in multiple tones at once. “Call out for me,” he urges, coldness thumbing across your cheek, as if trying to coax your eyes to open. So he can feel their warmth, and their terror.

But you shake your head, teeth chattering as you shiver, shuddering beneath his touch. “Go away,” you beg, “leave me alone.”

A soft puff of breath ghosts over your lips, like a faint laugh, and you shrink back into the mattress while his shadows wrap closer around your body, squeezing like serpents. “Call out for me,” he repeats, his gaze roving over your mouth, parted for air despite its bite.

Hot tears scald your skin as they drip out, peeking open your eyes, as breath is again snatched from your body. A mountain of pressure sitting atop your chest.

He’s as haunting as you remember, cruelly carved beauty, hewn from an ice that tries to be soft, but will only end up flooding if it thaws. Drowning you in his deadly affection. Filling your lungs until they’re close to bursting with his poisonous infatuation.

Hazel eyes flicker as they greedily devour your own, overwhelming and immense as you’re submerged into his obsession. Saturated in his hunger. Starvation so deep it persists after death.

“Azriel…” you breathe, lips trembling around his name, feeling as though its the last line of an enchantment, solidifying his presence, binding him to your own mortality.

Soft lips curve at their edges, a spark of life stolen from your existence. Fed off of, until he’s permanently entwined with your being. Persistent and parasitical.

He hums lowly, approvingly, and you swallow. Fear making you feel sick.

Slowly, as if basking in the descent, he settles his mouth atop your own, snow-soft lips slanting against a frozen stiff set, applying gentle pressure as he savours the feeling.

He still moves with such grace, such innate refinement that between the two of you, you seem the more lifeless. With unmoving limbs, and vacant eyes, you are the more dead.

The shadows pull away, blood gingerly rising to where his touch had been.

“I’ll return,” he whispers, mouth still faintly curved into a soft deception of tenderness.

Flickering night morphs and shifts, dissolving along with the wind.

“Find me in the dark.”

general taglist: @myheartfollower @tcris2020 @mali22 @amygdtjhddzvb @sfhsgrad-blog @needylilgal022 @hannzoaks @hnyclover @skyesayshi @nyotamalfoy @decomposing-writer @soph1644

az taglist: @azrielshadows1nger @jurdanpotter @positivewitch @nightcourt-daydreaming @assassinsblade @marvelouslovely-barnes @v3lv3tf0x @kalulakunundrum @vellichor01 @throneofsmut @vickykazuya

dark!az taglist: @honeyandhalfmoons

#azriel x reader #dark!azriel x reader #dark!azriel #ghost!azriel #dark!azriel x you #azriel fic #dark!azriel fic #fear of the dark

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