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clanborn · 10 months

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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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magics-neptunes-things · 10 months

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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.

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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

liked by leahwilliamsonn, y/nInstagram, ramona.bachmann and 9,937 others

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 · 3 months

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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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rottiens · 4 months

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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whoreish-behaviour · 1 year

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 · 8 months

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 · 7 months

Text

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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tragedybunny · 10 months

Note

If you are in the mood for writing and taking requests, could you pls write a short fic about crying f!Tav and Astarion comforting her?

Hello! I hope you like it. This was actually a scene I had been thinking about for awhile as it fits in with my Tav's story. Thank you to @satanicspinosaurus for the beta.

Lean On Me - Astarion x F!Reader

Your group stepped through the Basilisk Gate after your confrontation with Gortash at Wyrm’s Rock, entering Baldur’s Gate properly for the first time. The clamor and crowds of the city were overwhelming, smothering you in an alien way of life you’d only glimpsed in bits and snatches from the Patriar’s ivory walls of the Upper Gate.

were familiar, and yet not, and entirely overwhelming. You almost stumble as you glance around, trying to take everything in. Muscles tense as it all blurs together and you frantically try to figure out how to navigate the section of the city you’ve rarely seen. Someone soundlessly hovers at your shoulder.

“Everything alright, Darling?” Astarion whispers to not draw the attention of the others.

“Y-yeah,” you stutter before stepping away. There isn’t time for you to be anything else, so you breathe deep and take a step.

“Should we start at the Elfsong? Could be a good base to operate from, and there’s always information to be found there.” Wyll’s point is solid, and the Emperor already urged you to stop there.

“Good call.” There was just one problem.

“Lead on, fearless Leader,” Wyll says jovially, but you’ve frozen where you stand. “You do know the way to the Elfsong right?”

“I…” Frantically, you try to recall anything you know about the Lower City.

“I thought every Baldurian knew where the Elfsong was,” Karlach asks, without malice, but genuine curiosity.

You open your lips, but instead of words, a small noise comes out. It’s not their fault, they have no way of knowing, the Lower City was worlds away from your gilded cage. A place forbidden, it was below you. Or so you were told.

“You're not familiar with the area, are you?” Wyll offers kindly, sensing something is wrong and trying to take some of the sudden pressure off.

He says something else, but you can’t even hear him. The busy streets fade into visions of dark, cold rooms with windows to a world you can never touch. Tears embarrassingly prick your eyes as you’re drawn back into a place where fear motivates perfection, where hurt is a price paid to be molded into who you need to be. Eyes that mirror your own, blue and icy as a winter storm, stare at you with disdain. The message is clear: you’re not enough.

Vaguely, more voices flit across your consciousness, but you can’t focus, until one voice in particular breaks though. “Go on ahead, I’ll take care of her.”

Cold hands clasp yours, a momentary calm in the storm. “Can you hear me, Love?” Wordlessly, you nod. “I’m going to lead you into this alley, just so we get out of the street.” The insistent pull is easy to follow with nothing to anchor you.

The clustered buildings block the daylight, plunging you into shadows and shade, any progress of Astarion’s reassuring voice is lost. Daylight is a reward for obedience, and there is none of it here. Mother’s voice is in your ear, the matriarch of ice. You want to leave, but the door is locked, useful trinkets can’t be left to their own devices, lest they be lost. You feel yourself trembling, and you know you’re still crying. “You’re not there, you’re safe. Just focus on my voice. You can do that for me, right, my Sweet?”

Eyes squeeze shut, and you yank your hands away from his to rub fitfully at the scar on your wrist. You never could get away from her, you're drowning in frigid water, you can’t breathe. She wouldn’t let you go, even when your heart stopped beating. Foolish to think you’d ever escape. “I’m going to take your hand again. I won’t hurt you.”

Astarion makes a strangled gasp when he pries your hand from your wrist, but he holds it gently, rubbing softly with his thumb. “Come back to me, Sunlight, I’m right here.”

Sunlight. “...you’re bright, and warm, and beautiful,” you can still hear those words of his as clear as the night he said them. Warm, bright, nothing like what you’re supposed to be. Because you’re free now, you’re no longer currency to be traded, your life is yours to mold.

“Astarion,” you force your eyes open and struggle to get more words out between ragged breaths, burying your tears back down inside yourself. Wide crimson eyes stare at you with open concern, traveling down to where your nails have worried jagged, red lines in the skin of your wrist. Pulling it to your chest, you tuck it out of sight, wanting both of you to forget what you saw. “I’m fine. We should get going.” There’s so much that needs to be done.

Astarion is never good at hiding his emotions from you, and hurt flickers across his face for a moment before he regains control. “But you’re not, and you don’t have to be all the time.”

Deep breath, reassuring smile, the composure of a leader. Everyone is counting on you. That’s why they love you, you lead where they can’t. “Really, I’m alright, I-”

Gently, he pulls you into himself, and runs fingers comfortingly through your hair. “I know what it’s like, remember?” Gods, you’d almost forgotten who you were trying to convince. Instincts want to fight him still, to go on, to stop making a scene. But his comforting touch persists, and he raises your stinging wrist to his lips, laying the most delicate kiss on it.

The tears you’d so successfully banished well back up, and you find yourself sniffling into his shirt, building to genuine gulping sobs.

Composure shattered, there’s no going back. All your weight leans into him as you cry. “Sorry, I’m sorry, really, I’ll be fine.”

“Shh, no apologies, you’ve done nothing wrong.” Lips kiss the top of your head, and you bury your face against him, still ashamed of breaking down.

Time slips away from you as you let the fear and hurt drain away in tears. Astarion’s hold never waivers, soothing words falling from his lips in a low whisper until you finally quiet. There’s an emptiness where it all was, but it’s better than the pain. “I-”

“That had better not be another apology on that sweet little tongue of yours.” He lets go just enough to pull back and study you, concern written on his features, despite the lighter tone to his words.

You offer him a shaky smile. Despite his faults, Astarion tries to be a good partner. “It burns like failure. I should be better.”

“Hmm, that sounds like it comes from your family I'd wager,” your eyes go wide at his deduction, “it wasn't hard to figure out from the little bits I've been able to get from you. But they're not here, and I am. And I say you're so very strong already, you deserve some time when you’re not.”

Silently, you let your head fall back against his chest. You don’t have an answer for him because you want to argue. That’s a pointless endeavor, though, both because Astarion is nearly impossibly stubborn and a little part of you is starting to think he’s right. “Maybe,” you finally say.

“You know I’m right Darling, like always,” it’s such a typical Astarion way of ending a heavy moment, you give him a genuine smile. “But I suppose we should catch up with the others, gods know what trouble they’ve gotten into without us.”

If only you had time for just the two of you right now, it will have to wait though. More than just your friends, a whole city is at the precipice of disaster. And who knows how many more than Baldur’s Gate will suffer if you fail. One more kiss and you stand up straight, finding the will to press on again.

A hand catches yours, a reminder you’re not doing this alone.

Tag list:

@micropoe10 @spacebarbarianweird @writingmysanity

@mxxny-lupin @azu21 @tallymonster @dependsonthedream

@sunfire-ancunin @bambamwolf87 @fayeriess

@lumienyx @lisrelly @elora-the-slutty-songstress

@astariongf

#bg3 #astarion #baldurs gate 3 #astarion x reader #astarion x tav #astarion x f!reader #x reader #asks #my fanfiction #my writing #baldur's gate 3 fanfic

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gffa · 5 months

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PLANET: ILUM Astronavigation Data: Ilum system, 7G sector, Unkonwn Regions Orbital Metrics: 1,078 days per year/66 hours per day Goverment: None Population: 5,200 (support crew 45%, temporary researchers 30%, military 20%, other 5%) Languages: None Terrain: Frozen lakes, mountains, ice steppes Major Cities: None Areas of Interest: Holenesh Canyon, Jedi Temple, excavation sites, various ruins Major Exports: Ilum crystals [Source: Star Wars - Force and Destiny - Nexus of Power - Force Worlds] BACKGROUND: Ilum is a small, obscure world located far out in the Unknown Regions. The fifth planet of the Ilum system, it orbits an exceedingly bright blue dwarf star called “Asar.” Surveys of the system by ancient Jedi scouts show a handful of uninhabited, inhospitable worlds that are either heavily irradiated, completely covered in ice, or both. The rest of the system is largely empty, with no asteroid belt and few navigation hazards. Due to its location in the Unknown Regions and its isolation from charted hyperspace lanes, nothing was known of the Ilum system until a wandering Jedi discovered it in the earliest days of the Republic.

Roughly equidistant from Asar and the system’s cometary cloud, Ilum is the only world in the system that can support life. “Support” may be too strong a word for the relationship between Ilum and its flora and fauna, however. It is a large, terrestrial world orbited by two small moons and encircled by a wide set of rings made mostly of ice crystals. It is a land of broad continents, towering mountain ranges, and shallow seas locked in a perpetual ice age. Huge glaciers scour the planet’s face, slowly grinding the land flat. Where the glaciers have passed, deep snows or sheets of ice dozens of meters thick entomb the surface, making agriculture impossible. Ilum's few seas are shallow and broad, their waters choked with great floating ice mountains and thick sheets of drift ice. In addition to its frozen, snowbound landscape, Ilum has an atmosphere that is a near-constantly churning vortex of storms. High winds, sleet, thick snow, and freezing rain are to Ilum what gentle winds and soft rains are to Naboo.

Life, where it can survive, does so primarily along Ilum's equatorial region. Here, at least, the temperatures are only in the double digits below freezing, which has allowed a small number of native plants and animals to evolve. A few eke out an existence on the planet’s frozen surface, but most live either in the icy seas or deep beneath the ground in the uncounted thousands of kilometers of caverns and tunnels that worm through the planet’s crust. Savage gorgodons, cunning asharl panthers, and the terrifying razhak call Ilum home, along with hardy species of small rodents, birds, and worms. Alongside these are tough plants and fungi adapted to sub-zero temperatures, many of them completely undocumented.

LIFE ON ILUM: To date, no evidence has been found to suggest that sentient life ever evolved on Ilum. There are no ruins, nothing in the fossil record, and nothing recorded in the galaxy’s various ancient databases to suggest that Ilum was ever anything more than an obscure, uninhabited frozen rock. Indeed, the planet would have stayed that way until Asar burned itself out if the Jedi hadn’t come along and stumbled onto a discovery that would make it one of the most important places in the galaxy to that ancient order.

ILUM'S HISTORY: Ilum's recorded history begins tens of thousands of years ago with its discovery by a Jedi scout whose name is lost to history, performing Force-assisted hyperspace navigation. As the scout moved through the hyperspace lanes, she was drawn to the Unknown Regions by a particularly powerful resonance in the Force. Following the siren call of the Force resonance, the scout eventually discovered a lonely, hitherto uncharted system in the far reaches of the Unknown Regions, centered around a bright, blue-white star. The Force was strong throughout the system, but there was something powerful, something special, on the fifth planet, and that's where the Jedi scout focused her attentions.

The first scout's initial reports, as well as those from sub sequent survey teams, reported a barren, windswept world of tall, jagged mountains and shallow, frozen seas locked away beneath dozens of meters of ice. No settlements or ancient ruins were discovered, and all evidence pointed to the world being devoid of sentient life. What the teams did find was a world that, despite its inhospitable environment, managed to support some plant and animal life. Packs of large felinoids stalked the planet's steppelands; huge, slow moving aquatic mammals thrived in the icy seas; powerful and aggressive humanoid reptiles haunted the many mountain chains; and plants and fungi clung to life in sheltered spots away from the constant wind. These animals and plants didn't explain the planet's strong Force shadow, however. Its presence in the Force was enormous, a fact that the surveyors could not explain until one team was chased into a mountain cavern by dangerous creatures and discovered Ilum's real wealth.

Beneath Ilum's ice sheets and permafrost, the planet's crust is honeycombed by countless kilometers of interlocking cave systems. Within these caves, the escaping survey team discovered a motherlode of pontite, mephite, and other kyber crystals—the heart of a Jedi's lightsaber. The discovery of Ilum's mineral wealth quickly changed the char acter of Ilum's exploration from one of curiosity to one of grave importance to the Jedi Council. Upon receipt of the news that Ilum possessed an incredible wealth of kyber crystals, the Council immediately dispatched teams of scholars, artisans, and warriors to secure the world and to further study its natural wealth and importance to the Force. To pro tect the crystals, the Council made a decision to keep Ilum's existence a secret from the galaxy at large, and a number of steps were taken to ensure that it stayed that way. Hyperspace surveyors mapped out an uninterrupted, dedicated hyperspace lane from Metellos, a world in the Core region, straight to Ilum's orbit. The navigation of this route was so complex that a ship’s pilot needed to be at least sensitive to the Force, if not a fully trained Jedi Master, to even attempt it. In addition, all references to Ilum in official reports were quashed, and the world was even kept from local, sector wide, and galaxy star charts.

DARK LEGENDS: For thousands of years, the Jedi Order kept Ilum and its bounty secret and safe from harm. Generations of Jedi, from the greenest Padawans to the most ancient masters, traveled from all across the galaxy to search for crystals, study the planet and its connection to the Force, and enjoy the mental quiet of the uninhabited world. There is a nearly forgotten legend that speaks of a dark and violent time in the planet’s past, however. Ancient sources suggest that the Sith may have laid siege to the world, eventually taking possession of it for a time.

ENTWINED WITH THE JEDI: With Ilum secure, the exploration of the world and its connection to the Force was begun in earnest. Numerous settle ments were founded over the subsequent decades, typically near the sites of important scientific or Force-related discoveries. At places with a particularly powerful connection to the Force, the Jedi erected temples that served as training centers or pilgrimage sites where members of the order could go to meditate and heal. In addition, thanks to the abundance of kyber crystals on the planet, the Jedi Council established a massive, baroque temple over the entrance to the largest and richest cavern complex the survey teams had discovered. Once it was completed, the council began sending Padawans to Ilum to harvest the crystal for their lightsaber and to undergo the important training rituals associated with lightsaber construction.

Countless Jedi over the millennia traveled there to build their first lightsaber or to find crystals to build new ones. Eventually, as other sources of kyber crystals were exhaust ed or became otherwise unavailable, Ilum became the Jedi’s sole source of these precious crystals. While the planet remained a place of great importance, the Jedi Council recalled those members who were living on Ilum and shuttered all their settlements and temples save for the main temple used for lightsaber construction. With the world’s inhabitants gone, its glaciers and ice sheets quickly consumed the Jedi settlements and research sites, burying them beneath dozens or hundreds of meters of ice. By the beginning of the Clone Wars, there were no permanent residents on Ilum, nor any real evidence that there ever had been, and the main temple stood empty, save for the occasional Jedi pilgrim there to find a new kyber crystal.

CRYSTAL CAVES: Home to perhaps the largest deposit of kyber crystals any where in the galaxy, Ilum’s crystal caves were said to be the Jedi’s most sacred place by none other than Jedi Master Yoda himself. Winding for countless kilometers through and beneath Ilum’s largest mountain range, the crystal caves were first explored in the ancient past. Within the labyrinth of corridors, shafts, tunnels, and chambers is a staggering wealth of the kyber crystals—mainly mephite and pontite— that make up the searing heart of every Jedi’s lightsaber. Within a few short years of the crystal caves’ discovery, the Jedi Order erected a temple over the entrance to protect the caverns from trespass and to provide shelter and training facilities for visiting Jedi. The caves eventually became a pilgrimage destination for Jedi seeking crystals for new lightsabers and were incorporated into a Padawan coming-of-age ceremony called “the Gathering.”

The stone from which the crystal caves are carved is a smooth, black, basalt-like volcanic rock that absorbs light and is surprisingly easy to work with. The crystals themselves grow unimpeded from the walls and ceilings of the caverns and can occasionally be found littering the floors of corridors and chambers. In many places, the crystals can be removed from the surrounding stone by hand, and even the most stubborn, inaccessible crystal veins require only basic hand tools to excavate. It was this ease of excavation as much as the sheer quantity of crystal deposits that made the crystal caves so valuable to the Jedi.

Despite the millennia in which the Jedi lived and worked on Ilum and the planet’s importance to the order, surprisingly little of the crystal caves�� total area has been explored. Most of the known caverns lie within the boundaries of the temple’s training area, and those few charted areas outside of the temple’s footprint are a warren of dead-end caves, tunnels that turn in on themselves and either come to abrupt ends or plunge thousands of meters into dark cracks, and a confusion of chambers, side caves, and strange rock formations. The sheer size of the cave complex is staggering, with some ancient survey records suggesting thousands or even tens of thousands of kilometers of tunnels and caves stretching deep into the bowels of the planet. In addition, the Force tends to have a distressingly disorienting effect on visitors to the caverns. So powerful is the presence of the Force in the crystal caves that it causes vivid hallucinations in even the most guarded mind. This has led many an explorer astray; countless Jedi have wandered into the uncharted portions of the crystal caves in pursuit of some phantom, never to be heard from again.

JEDI RUINS: The Jedi worked and lived on Ilum for almost as long as they existed as an order. While they never established cities there—it was too remote, too hard to reach, and too sacred to the Jedi for that—they did build scattered small settlements, research stations, temples, observation posts, and other structures on and beneath the planet’s surface. These abandoned sites lie scattered all across Ilum in various states of ruin.

Some are still intact, seemingly awaiting the return of their inhabitants; others are little more than rubble. Most, however, have been buried deep beneath the shifting glaciers and massive, slow-moving ice sheets that cover most of Ilum’s surface. Nevertheless, a number of interesting sites can still be found here and there in sheltered mountain passes, at the bottoms of valleys, or within Ilum’s labyrinthine cave systems. One such ruin is the settlement at Holenesh Canyon.

HOLENESH CANYON: Located some five hundred kilometers from the main Jedi Temple at the mouth of the crystal caves, Holenesh Canyon is a deep, sheer-sided cleft in the planet’s surface over a kilometer deep that runs for roughly ten kilometers through one of Ilum's vast mountain ranges. The settlement, once home to around one hundred sentients, was built near the canyon’s end in the shadow of the mountain range’s highest peaks. It was established millennia ago to study a strange fluctuation in the Force that seemed to occur only once every few hundred years. Named for the Jedi who first recorded the anomaly, this small, isolated outpost stood for centuries before being destroyed in an avalanche triggered by a massive groundquake coinciding with the reappearance of the Force anomaly. Many of the settlement’s inhabitants were killed as they slept, but some managed to escape with little more than the clothes on their backs or what they could grab in their flight. Further seismic disturbances, combined with freak storms, prevented the mounting of a proper rescue mission, and by the time the Jedi were able to return to the canyon, the settlement was completely covered in snow and countless tons of fallen stone.

In the millennia since the destruction of the settlement, parts of it have been exposed through erosion and seismic activity. While the buildings are barely recognizable as such, their contents were surprisingly well preserved. Thanks to the remoteness of the ruined settlement and the difficulty of reaching it, precious little has been removed from the site. Anyone possessing the skills and courage to excavate the site might unearth any number of ancient Jedi relics.

CREATURES AND CHALLENGES: Ilum's climate is exceptionally harsh. Its land and most of its surface water are locked away beneath glaciers and permanent sheets of ice. Temperatures, even in what are usually considered temperate or tropical zones on other worlds, can sink to dozens of degrees below freezing. These temperatures are typically accompanied by howling gales and blizzards full of driving snow and ice shards. Few creatures, and even fewer plants, live on Ilum. To survive in these brutal conditions, Ilum's creatures and plants are both extremely hardy and extremely dangerous.

ASHARL PANTHER [RIVAL]: Asharl panthers are one of the more common predators on Ilum. They are large, aggressive, territorial felines that make their homes in Ilum's high northern and southern latitudes. Adult asharl panthers average between two and three meters long and stand roughly one meter high at the shoulder. Their four powerful legs end in two-toed feet equipped with nonretractable claws. The creatures’ bodies are covered in dense, smooth fur in shades of white, gray, and blue that holds their body heat in to protect them from the cold and driving wind. They have broad, earless heads with pronounced brow ridges, and their faces are remark ably expressive, with short, blunt snouts and golden eyes. The most noticeable feature is a pair of long, tentacle-like sensory organs that grow from their shoulders. Asharl panthers live in small family groups and typically hunt in pairs or in groups of four.

BLISMAL [MINION]: Blismal are small, furry, inoffensive rodents who live in the tunnels and caverns deep beneath Ilum's surface. About the size of a grown human’s hand, blismal have four legs; sharp featured faces with small black eyes, round ears, and long snouts; and short, hairless tails. Their bodies are covered in thick, luxurious, silvery fur that keeps them warm and sheds water and dirt. They feed mostly on cave fungus and insects, and they are happy to be left alone in the dark to live out their lives.

Like the harmless snowfeathers, which live on the surface, blismal have few natural predators. This is largely due to their speed and cautious natures, although they do have a frighteningly effective defense mechanism. When frightened, blismal make a shrill, painful, and sustained shrieking noise to ward off attackers and call for assistance from other blismal. When three or more blismal join in, they create a howl loud enough to shatter crystals and cause cave-ins, an ability that Jedi experienced firsthand long ago. The Jedi attributed this ability to the blismal’s close connection to the Force, and were able to counter the effects of the shrieking by manipulating the Force around the creatures. In doing so, Jedi exploring Ilum's cavern system were able to capture blismal, which turned out to be relatively easy to domesticate.

GORGODON [RIVAL]: Gorgodons are, perhaps, the most famous creatures to live on frozen Ilum. They are massive, non-sentient, thick-skinned reptilian creatures with long, powerful arms, short legs, and an axe-shaped head. A thick, shaggy coat of dark gray fur covers them from their shoulders to their feet, leaving only their head, which is a sickly orange color, bare to the elements. Gorgodons are incredibly strong and can with stand almost any punishment. It is said that they can even shrug off blaster bolts. They are a dangerous combination of dumb, aggressive, and brutal, and are one of the few animals that attack for no good reason. When the Jedi first arrived on Ilum, the gorgodons were the creatures that gave them the most trouble. Throughout the Jedi Order, the name of this creature was used in threats and curses, such as “thick as a gorgodon” or “as angry as a gorgodon’s mother.”

RAZHAK [NEMESIS]: Among the most fearsome predators on Ilum, these massive creatures are as agile as they are deadly. Averaging around eight meters in length, razhak-are armored, segmented, wormlike creatures that propel themselves using rippling muscle ridges. Their bodies are broad and flat, covered with thick, chitinous plates in shades of white and blue. While they have no apparent eyes, their heads are topped with long, segmented antennae that serve as sensory organs. Their huge mouths feature multiple rows of serrated teeth.

Aggressive and solitary, razhak live in the endless tunnel systems beneath Ilum's surface. They are deceptively fast and, when they attack, they rear up like a serpent and at tempt to swallow prey whole. Anything they can’t eat in one bite they tear into pieces by grasping it in their mouth and shaking it violently. In addition to possessing great speed and a savage demeanor, razhak also can generate intense heat strong enough to rapidly melt solid ice and cause serious burns to exposed flesh. This ability allows them to tunnel through ice as though it were soft sand. Razhak usually build their nests inside of ice walls or densely packed snow, typically leaving the nest only to eat or mate.

Thankfully, while they are terrifying to behold and extremely dangerous, razhak are also easily distracted and creatures of minimal intelligence. Keeping this in mind, a clever opponent can easily outflank them, lead them into traps, or make them lose interest in attacking altogether.

SNOWFEATHER [MINION]: Snowfeathers are small, clever, flightless birds native to Ilum. Their bodies are covered in a dense layer of oily, white feathers that protects them from Ilum's bone-chilling cold and vicious weather. Relatively harmless creatures, they live in nesting colonies built into ice shelves or cliff faces.

Despite their inoffensive nature and inability to fly, snowfeathers have few natural predators, for two reasons. First, their meat tastes terrible and is mildly poisonous, causing painful cramps, bloating, and loosening of the bowels in those unfortunate enough to eat them. Second, they have a connection to the Force that gives them the ability to project an illusion that makes them seem larger and more formidable than they really are. These characteristics have allowed them to survive and even thrive on an inhospitable planet full of savage creatures like gorgodons and asharl panthers.

#lumi.txt #star wars #jedi order #ilum #meta #reference #planets of the gffa

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