#he won’t stop growing branches on the bottom

[spoofyleaf]

Sometimes I remember that my whole house was so obsessed with the show Merlin, that we named the first tree we planted in the yard Merlin.

When it was given to us 11 years ago it was hardly a scraggly stick, and now it looks like a giant bush

Artist rendition

[sirjaketkiszka]

Josh Kiszka One Shot: Just Friends

You share an embarrassing secret with Josh. Turns out, he shares the same one.

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Josh Kiszka x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 5,253

Warnings: 18+!!, sexual content, cursing, mutual loss of virginity, slight dirty talking, kissing, dry humping/grinding, oral f!receiving, fingering, unprotected sex, oral m!receiving, swallowing, and, of course, mediocre writing.

Disclaimer: apologies for any potential spelling errors or grammar mistakes.

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The slight chill in the early summer air causes goosebumps to pepper your bare arms and legs, making your hands subconsciously rub the textured skin. You and Josh retreated to the backyard when Jake’s end-of-the-school-year party got too overwhelming, but a majority of the company had vanished by now. The previous music coming from the house is no longer playing, and the cars that littered the streets have all pulled away.

Golden and blush pink hues paint the skies like rough brush strokes, and minuscule twinkles of surfacing stars shine through the fading clouds. You could stare at the sun-setting sky for hours, but the brisk wind sends a chill up your spine and you grow noticeably uncomfortable.

“Want my jacket?” Josh asks, his head turned toward you as yours cranes upward to the scene above you. His soft voice pulls you to look at him, and you can tell by the way the tip of his nose sports a gentle shade of pink that he’s also cold.

“I’m okay,” You dismiss his question, hoping he’ll leave it alone.

“Please, just take it,” He insists, his hands finding the bottom hem of his oversized hoodie and lifting it above his head, “You know I run hot anyway.” He winks, handing you the bundle of warm fabric. You know his statement is a lie to get you to accept the jacket, but you also know he won’t let the topic go until he gets his way.

“Thank you,” Mumbling under your breath, you slip your arms through the sleeves and allow the fabric to fall over your shoulders and cover your torso. Immediately, your senses are flooded with his rich and comforting scent. Notes of cinnamon, firewood smoke, and the faint smell of weed intertwine themselves in the carefully woven wool of the Baja hoodie.

A comfortable silence falls between the two of you, and the light breeze creates a soft woosh sound; a product of the branches on bordering trees brushing up against each other. The bonfire before you dissipates into a low amber glow, the quiet crackles indicating its last leg. You know it’s time to head back, but just by glancing over to the house, you can tell that Jake is cleaning up and he’ll ask for help the moment you two walk inside.

“So,” Josh’s voice turns your head back to him, “Did you enjoy your first year of college?”

“Um,” You hesitate, giving the question some thought, “Yeah, I did.” Though the tone of your voice says otherwise, and Josh, of course, notices. As a form of comfort, you bring your thumbnail to your parted lips, anxiously nibbling on it while you zone out.

“That wasn’t convincing at all,” Josh chuckles while leaning over and gently wrapping his long fingers around your wrist, stopping you from chewing your nail off. This time, you really look at him; concern is reflected in his furrowed brows, his eyes searching your face for any indication of the truth, “What’s wrong?”

One thing is for certain, Josh always knows when you are upset. It sometimes feels like he knows you better than you know yourself, which can get a little annoying, especially when you prefer to process certain things privately. Although, with being friends since elementary school, his accurate reading of your emotions is a given.

“Well, I guess I expected more,” You shrug, avoiding the real reason.

“Like what?” He pushes, and your pulse begins to climb under his interrogating stare as he’s nearly falling out of his seat, quite literally on the edge of it. If you tell him you don’t want to talk about it, he will let it go, but another part of you wants to tell him.

“I just– Ugh,” You groan, the words proving hard to form because of how embarrassed you feel by them, “I expected more male attention.” Your words are rushed, your eyes diverting from his softening gaze. God, you hate when he pities you.

“Oh,” His lack of response surprises you, and you can’t help but notice the subtle disappointment laced in his features, “What were you expecting?”

“I don’t know,” A frustrated huff exhales from you, and you slump in the uncomfortable lawn chair, “A relationship maybe– my first relationship.”

“Well, you know, the right person will–”

“And my first time,” You blurt out. Both yours and Josh’s eyes widen at your admission and, of course, you panic and continue, “I know we don’t talk about our sex lives with each other, but I thought maybe I would’ve lost it by now.” You feel so juvenile avoiding the word virginity, but you can’t help it, and you’re afraid of any potential nearby listeners.

“It’s perfectly normal to wait,” He soothes, and you only now realize that his hand is still wrapped around your limp wrist, absently rubbing small circles on your smooth skin with his thumb.

“I know, but… I don’t want to,” You sigh, feeling as though a weight’s been lifted off of you, and now you can openly express your disappointment, “I know I shouldn’t feel embarrassed, but I am, and part of me does want to wait for the ‘right’ person, but another wants to just get it over with, you know?”

“Yeah, I get it,” He sits back in his chair, releasing your wrist and resting his hands on the chair’s armrests, “If it makes you feel better, I haven’t done it either.”

“Wait, really?” You sit up a little, and he smirks at your enthusiasm. When you think about it, Josh hasn’t ever dated anyone long enough to get to that point, so it should make sense, yet you still assumed he lost it somewhere along the way. You’re not entirely sure why you’re so relieved to hear that he’s still a virgin, like you, but you can’t help but smile.

“Don’t sound so excited,” He laughs, his head thrown back and perfect teeth flashing.

“I’m not!” You giggle, “Just surprised, that’s all.”

“I guess I’m just waiting for the right person,” He shrugs, resting his head on the back of his chair and staring up at the darkening sky. The previously colorful shades morph into a jet-black sky, and the stars freckle the dark backdrop. The temperature will only lower from this point on, and when you take another glance at the house, there’s no more movement, just the soft glow of the television from the living room. “Hey, what if–” Josh breaks the brief moment of silence, and you’re eager to hear his thoughts, “Never mind.”

“What if what?” You urge, fully sitting up in your seat.

“It’s nothing,” He shakes his head, brushing you off.

“Oh c’mon, Josh,” You nearly whine, curiosity getting the best of you. You have an inkling of what he might say, but then again, the idea is ridiculous. Absurd, even. He’d never suggest a thing like that.

“I was going to say we could… you know… together,” Oh, he would suggest it, apparently. He glances over at you, then away, his voice hardly a whisper by the end of his sentence, and you’re left speechless, “It’s stupid, I know. I thought maybe because we’re best friends that it wouldn’t be so weird, but I can see now that it is weird, so let’s ignore–”

“Okay.” You cut him off, his lips sealing and eyes holding yours.

“Okay… let’s ignore it?” He asks.

“No, okay as in ‘let’s do it’,” You explain, and his jaw nearly drops, “If you’re okay with it, and I’m okay with it, what’s the harm?”

“I–” He pauses, “That’s true. Are you sure?”

“Yes,” You respond confidently, “Are you sure? We totally don’t have to.”

“No, no, I want to,” He rushes out, and you have to fight back the smile that threatens to pull at your lips.

“So,” You drag out the word, feeling a little awkward, “When should we…?”

“Oh! Um,” He looks around and takes note of the empty house, all prior company is suddenly gone and the street is empty, “We could do it now?”

“Like now, now?”

“Unless you don’t want to!”

“No, let’s go,” You say, nodding your head toward the house and getting up. His gaze follows you, his eyes locked on yours as he gets up from his chair. The fire has dwindled into nothing but smoking ashes, and the only light that guides your way is the dimly lit back porch light. Your footsteps create quiet thuds into the overgrown grass, and you try to be courteous while climbing up the steps to the sliding door. Josh follows closely behind you, letting you walk in first, and you both remove your shoes by the door.

The kitchen is surprisingly clean– you almost can’t tell that there had been a party just over an hour ago. The rest of the house is eerily quiet, but the muffled sound of the living room TV carries into the kitchen, and you both have to walk through the room to get to the stairs. When you peer into the living room, Jake is sprawled out on the couch, clicking through channels and sipping on his last drink of the night.

“Hey, guys, I was wondering when you’d come inside,” He greets you and his twin, although he doesn’t look away from the TV.

“Hey, Jake,” Josh steps in front of you, addressing his twin, “We’re going to go watch a movie in my room, let us know if it gets too loud.”

On any other day, that would be a normal thing for the two of you, but tonight, it feels very different. It isn’t out of the ordinary for you to stay late and watch movies with Josh, but it is out of the ordinary to lie about what you were actually going to do, and somehow, you feel like Jake knows. He couldn't possibly know, but your conscience says otherwise.

“No worries,” Jake mutters into his cup, taking a sip and finally settling on a channel to his liking.

Josh motions for you to follow him, walking past the TV and up the stairs. Your pulse pounds in your ears the closer you get to Josh’s room, and you swallow down the anxious lump in your throat when he opens the door for you, allowing you to walk in first and lock the door behind you. You’ve been in his room plenty of times, but again, this is under different circumstances.

He rushes past you and slips a random DVD into his small TV, turning the volume up considerably loud. When he turns to face you, a nervous smile is on his lips, and you’re sure your expression is mirroring his. Was this a good idea? Only one way to find out.

Taking a seat on the bottom edge of his twin-sized bed, you pat the empty spot next to you, urging him to sit down. He moves quickly, sitting beside you and turning to look at you. His eyes frantically search your features, and yours do the same, taking in his appearance; his face is slightly flushed, and his shoulders show how deeply he’s breathing, slowly rising and slowly falling.

“Can I kiss you?” He asks, his voice coming out in barely a whisper.

“Yes,” The single word comes out in a quick huff, and only now do you realize how you’ve been holding your breath, anticipation prickling up your spine. Josh’s eyes zero in on your lips, his upper body leaning toward you, gravitating your own to him. Through parted lips, quick breaths exit the both of you, brushing against each other when you get closer, and eventually collide.

With eyes fluttering close, his lips are plush and perfectly molded against yours. The feeling is foreign, but a feeling you wholeheartedly welcome. Only a fleeting moment passes before your lips move fluidly with his, causing heat to rise to your neck and settle in your scarlet cheeks. Desperate for his touch, your hand reaches for his, guiding him underneath his sweatshirt that you’re still wearing, and allowing his fingers to glide along your bare waist. Your stomach clenches and a small gasp is pulled from you when his hand slides up your ribs and settles just below the cup of your bra, gripping the heated flesh slightly.

Pulling away, your eyes peel open to hold his gaze; his pupils are blown, his irises nearly pitch black, and his plump lips are a shiny maroon. Soft pants leave the both of you, eyes wide and yearning for more.

“Are we really doing this?” He asks, breathless, his brows scrunching in disbelief.

“I don’t want to stop,” You admit, your hand on his caressing reassuringly.

“Neither do I,” He says with a smile, flashing the gap between his teeth. You always love it when it shows through his toothy grin, a result of his goofy laugh or pure excitement. From now on, you will think of this moment, and that thought scares you, but yet, you can’t find it within yourself to care.

“Good,” You smirk, pulling away from him while backing up fully onto his bed, only stopping when your head hovers above his pillows. He remains at the end of the bed with his hand that was once on your skin subconsciously reaching out to you. “Come here,” You instruct him.

He turns over to crawl up the bed, his eyes bouncing from yours to your opening legs when he gets closer. Inching over your body, his hips lay snug against yours, and you hold back the surprised moan that settles in your throat when you feel his growing bulge against your core. He wastes no time placing his lips on yours again, letting his arms hold himself up on either side of your head, caging you in.

Your legs lazily tangle with his, your hands coming up to grip his clothed waist. This kiss is unlike the last; it’s fervent, hungry, and urgent. His breathing is heavy through his nose, and your small whimpers travel into his haste kisses while he absently grinds into you. Heat pools in your core when his bulge massages your aching clit, causing whimpers to mix with needy moans, and rough grunts to catch in the back of Josh’s throat, muffled by the kiss.

Moving his hips faster, your mouth opens to let out a moan, but his tongue swipes against yours, silencing you. The simultaneous sensation of him grinding into you and his tongue clashing with yours dulls your senses, drowning out the blaring sound of the movie playing, making you dizzy. If you found his scent comforting, his taste is all the same; smokey, cinnamon, and just Josh.

Pressing a final peck to your partially open lips, he travels down your chin to your jawline, leaving open-mouth kisses along your jawbone. Breathless moans consistently brush past your parted lips as he moves to your neck, your head tilting to allow him better access. Traveling up from his waist, one of your hands rests on the back of his neck, intertwining his braided rat tail between your fingers. He gently sucks on the sensitive skin below your ear, making sure to pull away before leaving a mark of any sort.

“Can I try something?” His words are broken up between gentle pecks, slightly muffled by the crook of your neck. When he pulls away, you nod eagerly, watching him sit back on the heels of his feet and gripping the bottom of your hoodie. Sitting up slightly, you let him lift the garment off of you, leaving you in just your tank top and shorts. A small smile pulls at the corner of his lips, his eyes shamelessly admiring your flushed state, heavily breathing with legs spread open for him. “May I?” He asks, sliding his hands up your bare thighs, inching up the rough fabric of your denim jeans, and stopping just where the button and zipper are.

Nodding again, he unbuttons your shorts and slowly unzips them, his fingers hooking into the waistband and tugging gently. You lift your hips, allowing him to slide the fabric over your ass and hips, and down your legs. He tosses the shorts somewhere behind him, his focus solely on your clothed cunt. His jaw is slack, his tongue swiping along his lower lip as fingers trace the hem of your underwear.

You silently thank your past self for choosing such cute underwear; a simple black cotton pair with a lace waistband. If only you knew how handy it would become. His eyes flick up to yours, “Can I take them off?” His voice oozes with tenderness, though there’s a slight tremble, telling you that he’s just as nervous as you are. The thought oddly soothes you, reminding you that this is his first time too.

“Please,” You beg, slowly nodding and swallowing back the nerves that come with being completely exposed to him. You figure the anxiousness would be worse had you agreed to do this with someone you don’t know as well as Josh, and the closer you get to the real thing, the more eager you are. He removes your underwear at a tantalizing pace, the stretchy fabric sliding over the hills of your ass when you lift your hips, and peeling off your wet slit. If your face could get any hotter, you’re sure your cheeks are dark maroon, and you fight the urge to close your legs when he nearly stops breathing at the sight of you.

“So beautiful,” He mumbles to himself, and barely audible enough for you to hear. Your hands fidget with the sheets on either side of you, and you watch as he leans forward, pressing a tender kiss to your bent knee, and then to the other. He takes his time alternating between legs, leaving gentle kisses along your thighs as he repositions himself to lay on his stomach, his head just inches from where you want him. Feeling his soft breaths cascade on your soaked cunt, you fight the urge to grind your hips upward, desperate for relief of any sort.

Thankfully, he takes the hint, likely noticing your restraint and near lack thereof. His hands press on your inner thighs, prompting you to spread them wider, and he holds you there. Leaning forward, he presses a light kiss on your clit and your hips writhe at the simple gesture. If that can get you worked up, you aren’t prepared for what’s next.

He places another kiss, firmer this time, and a moan carries itself out with the shaky exhale you release. Just when you think you can’t take the teasing any longer, Josh swipes his tongue along your slit, and your back arches at the foreign feeling. If this felt otherworldly, how did actual sex feel? More swipes of his tongue pull incoherent words from you, mumbled between desperate whines and surprised gasps. Low hums vibrate his tongue, and his hips absentmindedly grind into his mattress, his eyes closed and eyebrows synched while he tastes you.

“Oh my, God,” You breathe out, feeling the warmth erupt in your lower abdomen and send waves of pleasure straight to your core, “You’re so good,” Encouraging words elicit him to flick his tongue on your swollen clit, and a deep groan pushes past your lips as you throw your head back in his pillows and a free hand carefully grasps at his curls, “Fuck— Just like that, please, Josh.”

One of his hands holding your thighs apart slides along the plush flesh, and you gasp when his middle finger toys with your entrance, “Is this okay?” He mumbles against your clit.

You nod frantically, “God, yes, please.”

Slowly pushing his middle finger in, he continues his attention on your clit, distracting you from the feeling of your walls stretching around the digit. There’s no pain, but you know he’s just trying to get you adjusted to feeling full. Short pumps and the curl of his finger press against your g-spot, and you whine at the feeling, your back peeling off of the mattress.

Trembling legs, the string of breathless moans, and the uncontrollable writhing of your hips signal a close release. You’re so close to finishing, feeling your walls pulse around him, but you’re afraid that it’ll end once you reach climax.

“Need more,” You mutter while lifting your head and tugging on his hair slightly, making him look up at you, “Need you inside me.”

He pulls his mouth away quickly and removes his finger leisurely, eager much like you are, and returns to his kneeled position between your legs— your hands returning to their resting position on either side of you. Without a word, he lifts his t-shirt over his head and you nearly salivate at his impressive physique. Sure, you’ve seen him shirtless plenty of times, and yet, this is different; his abs clench with every passing breath, his shoulders visibly heaving, and to top it all off, his lips and chin shine in the dimly lit room, a product of you.

Cautious eyes observe him while he unbuttons his khaki shorts, unzipping them and pulling them down just enough to pool around his bent knees. His erection strains in his boxers, begging to be released, and when he pulls the waistband down, you swallow thickly. The tip of his cock leaks precum, and his hand wraps around the shaft, pumping lazily. Your gaze travels up his body, settling on his face, which reflects how eager and nervous he is.

“Shit… I don’t have a condom,” His meek voice admits with a chuckle, “We don’t have to—”

“No! It’s okay,” You rush out, a little too impatiently, but you really wanted this and didn’t want to back out now, “We’ll just be… safe.”

“Okay… Okay, yeah, we’ll be safe,” He nods, understanding what you mean. Leaning forward, his fingers still wrapped firmly around his length, he rests his other hand on the pillow beside your head. A shared shaky breath leaves both of you when his tip glides between your folds, roughly circling your clit and gathering the wetness. Slowly, he positions his tip with your weeping entrance, and the pressure causes you to hold your breath, “Ready?” He asks, making sure to maintain strong eye contact.

“Yes,” You choke out, still afraid to breathe.

“Let me know if it hurts too much,” He comforts, and while you appreciate it, you want— no, need— him now, “We’ll stop, okay?”

“I know,” You swiftly nod while your eyes shoot between his and his erection poking at your cunt, “I’m ready. Are you?” You make sure to ask, realizing how reassuring he’s been this entire time, and afraid that you’ve been lacking the same hospitality.

“Of course,” He smirks, and his hips move forward by an inch, letting his tip be consumed by you. Your chest gets tight, your lungs stalling as you anticipate pain of any sort, “Breathe,” He comforts, inching deeper into you, “Just relax, mama.”

His unusual pet name almost distracts you from the stretching feeling of his cock pushing into you, your walls doing their best to accommodate his size. You breathe deeply, letting out shaky exhales as your wide eyes lock onto his, a sharp gasp pulling into your lungs when he eventually bottoms out. A relieved groan melts from Josh’s tongue; his eyebrows scrunched in pleasure, and his lips agape. The stinging sensation is dull, not overwhelming in the slightest, but you still grip Josh’s waist, waiting for it to hurt.

“You feel so– fuck,” His voice is strained, his hips unable to move while his cock twitches inside of you, wanting more. His eyes nearly roll when you absently squeeze around him, pulling a drawn whine from him, “How can someone feel so… good.” His words send a rush of arousal to your core, coating his erection as he inches his hips back, and carefully pushes back in.

“Holy shit,” Your words are dragged out by a moan, surprised by how natural this feels. You expected blistering pain with little to no pleasure involved, but this felt delicious. As his tip brushes against your textured walls, a mixture of your whimpers and his breathy grunts tangle in the space between you, silencing the TV that plays loudly just feet away from you.

“How does that feel?” He murmurs, his voice lost when he speeds up slightly, the previous resistance no longer present, allowing him to glide in and out of you effortlessly. With his gaining speed, your legs wrap around his waist, creating a new angle that pulls him in deeper.

“So good, Josh,” You cry out, your eyes squeezing shut as the pressure rebuilds itself in your gut, “Please, don’t stop.” He quickens his thrusts, repositioning his arm beside you, resting his upper body weight on his elbow and forearm. His free hand explores your curves; gripping your thighs, your waist, skimming over your clothed breasts, and finally sliding down to your spread cunt.

“Does that feel good?” He sweetly whispers directly in your ear, lazily rubbing circles around your clit. Your hand flies from his waist to his, guiding him to press firmer and rub faster.

“Fuck, yes!” Your words grow increasingly louder the closer your climax gets, and your distracted mind forgets the company that resides in the story just below you.

“God, you feel so good,” Josh’s husky voice and quick breaths brushing against your earlobe add to your pleasure, heightening your peak and tightening the wounding coil, “So warm, so tight.”

“Oh god, Josh,” You whine, your other hand leaving his waist and sliding up his back, your nails pressing crescent moons into the warm skin. “I’m close,” Crying out, your legs tighten around his waist, and your hand grips his wrist, encouraging him to keep going, “Shit!”

The coil in your abdomen snaps, sending a rush of heat through your limbs and core, causing your legs to frantically shake around him and your cunt to rapidly squeeze him as he continues pumping into you. Eyes shooting open to look at the ceiling, your vision is hazy and hearing is muffled, the only sound being let in is the distant string of profanities and cries. Whispered phrases like “That’s right,” “It’s okay,” and “Holy shit.” leave Josh’s lips, which press against the top of your ear.

The final pulses of your orgasm grasp around his length and your moans melt into exasperated breaths, your chest heaving against his. Placing soft kisses along your jawline, he moves further down, peppering along your exposed collarbone and nibbling on the thin skin. His hips gradually slow down, and he practically comes to a halt.

“What- why are you slowing down? Are you okay?” Your words are rushed, and they pull him to look at you, a lazy smile plastered on his plump lips. His face is completely flushed; red splotches cross the bridge of his nose and make a home of his naturally rosy cheeks.

“It’s okay, nothing’s wrong,” He assures, pressing a soft peck to your parted lips, “I just need a minute,” He chuckles as his hips tiredly thrust into you, “I’m so close.” His admission gives you an idea and a favor you’d like to return.

“Wait,” He immediately stops when the word leaves your lips, and his eyes are piercing, afraid he might’ve done something wrong, “Can I– Can I taste you?” Your shy voice comes out in a whisper. His face is stunned, but if it’s possible, his eyes grow darker, clearly enjoying the thought.

“Of course,” He chokes out, clearing his throat. Carefully pulling out, a noise of resistance exits both of you. Glancing at his cock, it’s covered in your release, and your mouth waters at the sight. You switch positions with him, letting him lay on the bed while you sit in between his legs. In the process, he’s taken both his shorts and boxers off, leaving him bare to you.

His eyes are expectant, patiently waiting and watching as you bend forward, lightly grasping his member with your hand and gently placing a kiss on his leaking tip. His hips jut forward, chasing your mouth when you pull away, looking at him with a satisfied smile on your face.

Leaning forward again, your lips part and wrap around his sensitive tip, sucking delicately and pulling a trembling sigh from Josh. The saltiness of his precum and the taste of your climax coat your tastebuds, making your mouth water. Swirling your tongue around him, you plunge deeper, inching his erection into your mouth until his tip pushes against the back of your throat. To prevent yourself from gagging, you hum, making his cock twitch. A sharp gasp pierces his lungs when you pull away and immediately sink back down, your head slowly bobbing on his length.

“Oh, my God,” He mumbles, your eyes shooting to his while you work your way up and down, sucking just enough, “that feels so– fuck.” His head falls back with his eyebrows scrunched, and his hips do their best not to thrust into you, chasing his own release. You move quicker, ignoring the stinging sensation of tears gathering on your waterline, “Keep going, oh god,” You do, sucking harshly, “I’m gonna come.”

His choked words morph into mouth-watering whines, encouraging you to work faster, pulling his orgasm from him. Rushed-out curses leave his sweet lips as his hips sputter and stomach clenches, his cock twitching deep within your mouth. A hand flies to your hair, silently begging for you to keep going while spurts of hot cum coat the back of your tongue. The feeling is overwhelming, and the liquid threatens to leak from the corners of your mouth as you continue your work on him, only pulling away when his erection no longer spasms with every passing of your lips.

When his head finally lifts from the pillows, you swallow eagerly, making sure to hold his amazed stare when you do so. His eyes are shining, cheeks deep red, and his lips stay parted. His eyes are wide as his hand travels from your hair to your cheek, cradling your face and wiping away the drop of cum that escaped on the corner of your mouth with a swipe of his thumb.

“That was—” He breathes out, his chest rapidly rising and falling, an appreciative smile falling on his lips.

“It was,” You shoot back, smiling in return and crawling up his body, surprising him with a firm peck. His hands grip your waist, his chin lifting to deepen the kiss, a pleased hum vibrating your lips.

Knock Knock

The two of you separate at an impressive speed with Josh scrambling to cover you with the blanket located at the end of his bed. Even with the door locked, you feel panic rising in your throat, making you feel sick, “Yeah?” Josh calls out.

“I’m going to bed, can you turn the volume down?” Jake’s muffled voice comes from behind the door, presumably clueless to the state in which you and Josh are in.

“Yes! Sorry!” Josh quickly replies, rushing to the TV and turning the knob, making the volume gradually lower until the room is near silent. When he turns back to you, you both stifle a laugh, and you lift the blanket, motioning for him to join you. “Shouldn’t I get dressed first?”

“Hmmm,” You think about it, lifting a brow and smugly smirking, “Nah.”

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My second Josh one shot, hurray! It’s a little different from what I usually write, but I hope you enjoyed! <3

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Taglist:

@musicislove3389

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[angelwings-crossbowstrings]

Whumptober 2024 No.3

Prompt: Shivering (Alt)

Warnings: Mentions of injury

Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Fem!Reader

gif by @mcbride

The small fire did little against the cold. Daryl had fashioned a tent of sorts out of branches and leaves but chilling droplets of rain seeped through with ease, only keeping your already wet clothing in its perpetual state. The wound in your side still wept, the loss of blood not helping matters in the least.

“How’re ya holdin’ up?” Daryl asked as he added more to the fire. Dry kindling was impossible to locate so he had resorted to burning some of the extra clothing in his bag to keep the flames alight. “Lemme take a look at it.”

“It’s no different than it was five minutes ago, Daryl. Stop fussing.” You admonished gently, clasping his wrist as he reached for the wound. You brought his chilled fingers to your lips and kissed them before tugging on his arm. “Sit close to me. You’re a human furnace. You’ll keep me warm until they find us.” The pallor of his bruised and bloody face begged to differ but if it would keep him from his nervous fidgeting and soothe his anxiety, it was a lie worth telling.

His jaw moved, bottom lip tucked between his teeth. With a smile, you tugged again and this time he let you pull him toward you, settling in at your good side to pull you close. Surprisingly, your shivering lessened and you felt your body growing heavier with fatigue.

“Getcha home in the morning, with or without ‘em. Won’t let nothin’ else happen to ya.” And as you hummed and huddled closer, feeling his hold around you tighten, you knew you’d be fine.

[itsagrimm]

He Who Comes from under the Water

Chapter 11 - The Dive

Monster!König X she/her afab Reader

CN: Mentions of possible death and injury, fear of water, nearly drowning, mentions of possibly getting hurt, inappropriate use of an axe, depression and bad mental health, on character is passively suicidal, cannibalism, fear of being alone, fear of separation from a loved one, lack of self-confidence, kissing, making out, partial nudity

Notes for better understanding at the bottom!

Beta-read by the equally afflicted @queenquazar. Unhinged writing and editing sessions in the dead of night wouldn't be the same without you.

6.0k words

Masterlist

Hope you enjoyed your summer as I have but now as it's getting colder, darker and most importantly weather outside, I am fairly sure updates will roll quicker now.

also I need to do more trips with my camera, I am running out of decent looking header photos.

I made a playlist for this series. Enjoy.

The fresh morning breeze caressed over your slowly warming up skin. Branches of trees danced a lazy rhythm and the late birds of summer sang their song. Ghost stood next to you, wrapped in his coat made of leaves and moss and sturdy solitude, as you both looked up to the window of your bedroom. König was in there, still asleep and out of your reach.

“Let’s try to wake up König one more time.”

Hope reared its head as you heard Ghost’s words.

But not too high.

“How?” You wondered out loud. “I am sorry that you feel stuck here with me, but König did not wake up last time you tried. Why should he now?”

“Maybe we need to try harder,” Ghost replied and grabbed Königs axe.

Your eyes widened.

“Hold on!” You tried to stop what was unfolding before you, only to witness Ghost grow in size, taller than the trees, taller than the house, and far away from your little human words.

“Enough, little brother,” Ghost groaned from high above you and you had to shield your ears from the loud thundering voice “It is time to wake up. I am tired of guarding your Bride in your stead.”

Birds took off, the earth shook and trees froze as in fear of the giant that was said to be their guardian.

Ghost straightened up and turned to the house.

“Hey!”

Like an animal on the hunt that got caught, Ghost froze and turned back, staring down at you with an oddly blank expression.

“What are you up to, Ghost?” You called, trying to ignore the little voice in your mind telling you that shutting up and quivering in fear before the giant was a smarter strategy to survive.

“Why the axe?” You squeaked as you tried not to squeak.

Ghost blinked, confused by this little being that was his future sister in law. Such a flimsy thing of flesh and bone, shouting at him from her place in the dirt. Ghost glanced at the axe, shaking his head.

“Right. I am sorry. I am not used to explaining myself but you have every right to ask,” Ghost admitted, and fell back into a shape more approachable to you, like a shadow growing smaller by the change of light.

“You can do it.” Ghost said. “Hit König with the axe to wake him up.”

You blinked, it was your turn to stare confused.

“He is just the Vodyanoy napping in water. Swinging an axe against him is like hitting the surface of a lake, stirring up a few waves but nothing else. He will be fine. And hopefully he will wake up from it.” Ghost explained and passed you the heavy axe before growing in size again.

You looked down onto the massive wood axe in your hands, the wooden handle old and used.

“Are you sure that will work, Ghost?” Uncertainty creeping up in your mind and voice, worry and frustration manifesting about your fiance’s wellbeing and actions.

“Have you ever heard of running water getting cut?” Ghost answered. “I am not saying König will like it, but it won’t harm him. Trust me.”

You swallowed, feeling uneasy. Hitting a human with an axe in their sleep was murder. Plain and simple. But, König was as much a human as you were a fish. His skin shifted and shaped as he pleased. He ruled the waters and even summoned them in his dreams after not sleeping for who knows how long, destroying your room. And his eyes…

“I understand this might be a lot to ask,” Ghost paused. “You will have to trust me on this one, Vodyanitza.”

His words danced through your mind like willow branches in the wind. If Ghost would have wanted to and this was ill-intentioned, he could have harmed König without bothering to talk and convince you of this plan. Maybe there was a point in trusting Ghost even if the thought of König getting hurt made you grow colder inside than the cooler morning breeze ever could.

You looked up to the giant and nodded.

“Let’s do this.”

“Hold on tight,” He stated and grabbed you to place onto the window sill to your bedroom. Like a leaf he tumbled into the room after you, turning himself small again and landing in the splashing water on your bedroom floor.

You cried out, first in surprise than dreadful fear from all the water suddenly around you as the heavy axe slipped out of your fingers and landed in the water, sinking down with a shallow ‘clunk’ against the wooden planks. 

“Ghost. I-” you eyed the water splashing around the room like a lively river. Or a dark river, a deep river, deep enough to drown. “I am afraid of water. I can’t get down from here. I can’t do it.”

Ghost made a sound that could have been a grumbled curse whispered by a tree before being hit by lightning.

“A Vodyaniza who fears the water,” He stated. “Sounds right like the mess my brother would cause. Alright, I’ll do it then.”

“Wait,” You looked at König as you tried to calm your nerves as you took deep calming breaths. He was still deep asleep. A mess of tangled unhuman limbs and scales and hair and skin in the waters of your flooded room. Panic and fear surged from all the water, but you forced those emotions in you aside as you tried to commit his sight to your memory, just in case something was to go wrong.

“Okay,” You finally agreed and nodded to Ghost.

This was it.

Ghost picked up the axe from the water and raised it high before swinging it down onto König.

The impact of the axe connecting with Königs head sounded like thunder rolling over you.

Loud and painful and final. 

Suddenly, like a storm, the water rose and reached high before you, waves building and crashing at your feet as you held onto the window frame for dear life while trying to see through the room filled with fine droplets of water and foamy waves.

A groan rang through your ear.

Königs voice - strained and painfully familiar.

Another groan as you heard a second hit from the axe through the wild waters before you … like…

…like a yawn before having to leave bed, yet still feeling tired.

“König?” You hoped aloud, your voice being drowned out by the rushing water and Ghost’s deep voice.

“Wakey-wakey, brother! Stop making your Bride wait for you!”

“Urgh.”

A massive wave crashed right next to the wall with your window, breaking the glass and causing the house to shake from the impact.

“Get up, little brother.” You could not see through all the splashing water before you, only hearing the sound of Ghost’s deep voice. “Stop being dramatic and flooding your girl’s room. It’s rude.”

A third axe hit thundered through the little space before you. More water rose and a wave finally hit you. You wailed as you tried to fight against the dreadful flood, with desperate fingers you reached for safety. Catching the clammy window frame, the sill, and finally just the thin fabric of the curtains until the pull of the retreating water consumed you and took you in to the deep waters.

The silence of being underwater was more unbearable for your mind than the loud crashing of waves and shattering sounds of the hitting axe above.

For a moment fear froze your body and you could not help but stare as you floated impossibly downwards at the sight of König, coiled up like a serpent snake and shifting scales reflecting the light. His eyes were closed except for a sliver of that beautiful blue peeking into the world as if the king of everything under the water was about to wake up. Bubbles of air fought their way out of your lungs and you felt panic as you watched the axe hitting König from above.

Would he be fine?

No blood came out of the wound that broke as the axe connected with Königs sleeping shape. You watched König being unharmed and lazily stretching his long limbs and body as you floated downwards, taken by a strong current in the impossibly deep waters of your bedroom.

Wait, would you be fine?

König did not notice any of it. Instead, his eyes only slightly fluttered, as if merely being tickled awake - lazy, unfocused blinking of blue eyes before sharpening up. Still sleepy, he looked around as if confused if he was still dreaming or awake. Finally, König locked eyes with you and smiled. It was a beautiful smile, toothy and life-savingly-relieving to see him coming back to his senses.

You did not smile back. The air bubbles in your mouth were too precious a cargo to smile for König, opting instead for an unhappy grimace and some waving motions that hopefully spelled out: ‘I don’t want to be here and need your help to get out’.

For a moment, a very long moment as you struggled, König blinked before the realisation kicked in. He was far away, so far away from you in the waters that he had dreamed up. Yet, unbelievably quick the serpent body moved and changed as König headed for you. With hands, not scaled claws anymore,  König reached out as he fought his way through a whole ocean between you and him as a last air bubble left your mouth. 

Your head was spinning and you started to lose sight as you felt hands on you that lifted you up and out of the water.

You coughed, ungraciously spitted out water as König tried wiping out hair and tangled clothes out of your face.

“Bride! Are you okay?”

You vomited water at his feet and chest while he held you like a cat that got rescued from the floods, close to his body and patting you like a little animal.

“She looks fine.” Ghost’s gravelly voice sounded through the air as you still tried to blink and see. “You better worry about this flood you caused.”

“Oh. Right.” You felt König shift and then the sound of water draining away as if someone  had pulled a plug.

You coughed again for good measure, still feeling weak and miserably wet. The cold was starting to set in as the rush of fear and panic started to run out.

Shivering, you tried wiping away the water from your face and opened your eyes.

Your bedroom was a mess. But not in the way your mother would have disapproved of but in a way she would have questioned whether or not it was still habitable. The water was gone, but the signs of the flood were catastrophically clear with nothing being dry, in pieces or not where it ought to be. Your bed was a pile of torn fabrics and splintered wood. The chest with your clothing, tipped over and empty, looked like a sad hungry animal no one had bothered to feed. And your few personal possessions, kept toys from your childhood, gifts from friends, clothes lying around the floor. Ghost was standing before you on something that might have been pieces of your wedding dress, leaning on the axe with the same skull-covered expression as always, yet appearing somewhat amused under it.

And König - he was holding you up to his chest, his hands still patting you helplessly as if that could help you. He looked human. Mostly. The hair was as messy as the first day you saw him, covering most of his face except for blue eyes burning through with worry.

“I-” you rasped despite the storm of emotions waging through you. “I was so worried about you, König.”

Another cough.

“But I have never been as angry as this before. What did you do with my room? And my wedding dress. Also-”

You felt like there was still some water in places of your body where none was supposed to be, wheezing and shaking your head from the uncomfortable feeling.

“-put me down. You are so cold and I feel like I am freezing in your arms.”

Guiltily, König put you down, mumbling something that could have been an apology while Ghost choked on something that could have been a laugh.

You paid no attention to them, concentrating on your weak legs to hold you and carry you to the torn pieces of your wedding dress. Ghost stepped aside and watched you with open curiosity as you held your dress in disbelief of how quickly your work had turned into rags.  Holding back tears, you let the fabric fall back down with a wet squelching sound and turned to the door. If you were lucky the hinges still worked and you could walk out on your own and warm you up again downstairs, away from the left battlefield that used to be your sanctuary.

You stumbled, reaching for the handle and opening the door only to face another cruel adversary.

The stairs.

There was no way you were able to make it down the steps without breaking your neck with how wobbly your legs felt and how ridiculously shaky your hands twitched.

You turned around, the pleading frustration in your eyes too visible for König not to step closer and peaking at the obstacle in your way.

He nodded while trying to control whatever emotions attempted to govern his face.

“Allow me, Bride.” He asked and lifted you up again before carrying you downstairs and into the kitchen, setting you down before the warm oven.

Ghost followed and started preparing tea and a hot stone before leaving the room as König returned with dry clothes for you, magically found somewhere in a part of the house that hadn’t been flooded. You looked at the pieces offered in his hands, only to see that it was a mix of mostly your fathers and brothers clothes from the storage. You did not care. They were dry and the village would judge you no matter what you wore. Might as well just do the best for yourself.

Unceremoniously, you stripped out of your dripping clothes. König held and steadied you where you needed it and grabbed the discarded pile of fabrics to put it up on the laundry line outside once you were done.

You stayed where you were, leaning close to the oven in the hopes of warming up quickly, and refusing to do anything before feeling less miserable.

Ghost was still a guest. And König was your fiance. A good hostess and bride would have started serving them the food that you had previously prepared.

A good hostess and bride would not have been dipped into a pool of dreamed up water in their own bedroom either. You thought bitterly before adding a relieving Fuck it.

Someone knocked at the door and you called them in.

Ghost reappear from the outside with a blanket of moss and leaves, wrapping it around you and placing you in the nearest chair to the oven before passing you a cup of the freshly brewed tea.

“Thank you,” You rattled through cold lips.

König returned with more wood for the oven and added a large log to feed the fire. You had shown him how to care for a fire, never expecting he would ever find a need for it. Both brothers hustled and moved around your little kitchen, hardly speaking and only every once in a while giving you worried glances as they made sure all work of a proper household would be done while you rested and warmed yourself. You closed your eyes, letting the feeling of being safe and cared for, seep in.

This day, even if it was slightly past midday, had punched all energy out of you while also confronting you with every possible emotion a human heart could feel. Waking up in the flood, alone and confused, next to your water serpent like fiance, meeting your future brother-in-law who thought you would die soon, nearly drowning once again while your fiance woke from the literally deepest nap possible in your now destroyed room. You sighed, not even bothering to bring order into your mind.

Instead, you gratefully thought how you finally weren’t alone even if it was scary at times to share your life with beings so different from you - König, Ghost, Farah, talking animals and murderous Rusalkis. Yes, this had been another moment where you could have been harmed. And mourning your room and things destroyed by the flood, was one of many things in the curled grey corners of your mind. There was still anger and confusion in you why it all had happened. But you weren’t alone anymore to face those things on your own. There were people around you now that noticed you and cared for your well-being. Clearly, not all of them to the same degree or out of the same motive. You understood that. But your lost room and wedding dress, your fears and secrets and longings felt more like a coherent song than a desperate cry for help when it wasn’t just your voice.

Someone touched you softly on the shoulder and you opened your eyes.

“Hey.” König stood before you with his blue watery eyes and wild hair.

Both brothers had paused their busy work and stood with their attention turned towards you.

“How are you feeling?” Ghost asked gravely from his far away spot at the door and reached for more tea for you with his long unhuman arms without moving.

You shivered, unsure if from the cold or from the odd reminder that neither of the men were human.

“Better,” You replied. “Thank you for giving me time to recover.”

Your eyes wandered to König, craving to hear his voice again and feel his warming eyes on you. He looked away, avoiding your gaze.

Your little heart dropped deeper than the waters in your room had been, fighting hard to soldier on.

You cleared your throat.

“Well,” you squeaked, your voice still feeling thin and fragily human as you addressed the giant men. “I am starving. This is not how a host normally does it in this house since all I did was sit and rest now. But how about we eat?”

The rabbit stew that you had made this morning smelled tempting and promising from its reheating spot in the oven and you heard your own stomach growl.

“Thank you for the invite, Vodyanitza,” Ghost declared, slightly bowing his head. “But we will have to do that another time.”

“Oh,” You huffed, slightly disappointed.

Ghost stilled, as if thinking before taking a deep breath.

“It has been lovely meeting you, my dear sister-in-law. It’s been a pleasure. Also- ” He paused. “I may have treated you rougher than necessary and I do apologise for that. If you ever need help, just send for me. I may not appear to be the most, let’s say, approachable. But I do hope that there is nothing but the best for you and I am looking forward to your wedding.”

“You are coming after all?” König finally spoke, surprise ringing in his voice as he turned to his brother.

Ghost nodded. “It’s not every day a brother of mine gets married. I need to make sure you don’t drown your own wedding guests.”

König forced a smile.

“Graves marries someone new every couple of years,” He interjected.

“Graves married and remarried so much, he hardly needs his elder brother to tell him how to plan a party. He knows what he is doing.”

Both brothers chuckled and you smiled at the sight, remembering your own brother.

“Before I go, dear sister, allow me to give you something.”

Ghost  reached into his coat. From the depths of his pockets he produced a huge leaf, rolled up into a package and bound together with a simple string.

“I suppose you have none yet, but a future queen should wear one. It would look good on your wedding day.”

You took the package from his hands and pressed it slightly, trying to guess what was inside.

“Thank you, Ghost. Why-“

“Open it.”

Obediently you opened the little knot holding the leaf together with slow, cold fingers and unrolling what was inside.

You gasped.

In your hands was a Kokoshnik, large and covered with fine embroidery and colourful stones of green and blue. It felt firm in your hands. And it wanted to be worn. Like a crown, proud and bright for a special day. At least one thing you would have for your wedding day.

You thought back a sob at the thought of your torn wedding dress, your fingers still holding the precious crown like an anchor.

“I am sure König will gladly help you put it on. But don’t lose it. I made it for you and there is no other like it. It will protect you when you walk in the forest.”

“I…”, you huffed, “…don’t know what to say. This is very beautiful. Thank you.”

Ghost just waved with his hand like it was nothing.

“Don’t say anything and just wear it to keep you safe. Do me that favour.”

You nodded, out of words.

“Well, I’ll be gone then. The forest calls me.” Ghost turned to the door and you started to get up to send him off. “Don’t you dare get up, sister. What’s the point of the Kokoshnik if you fall sick from the cold and exhaustion. No, stay right where you are.”

You fell back onto your spot, the moss blanket encasing you like a cocoon of earthly smell and warmth.

“Save travels then, Ghost.” You spoke. “Thank you again.”

“Don’t mention it.” He waved and stepped outside, followed by König.

You sat there, hearing them talk and laugh and wishing each other well without making much out of it.

Then, finally, Ghost was away.

The rest of your day was spent alone with your own thoughts. König, aside from making sure you ate and rested, hardly spoke to you. His distance confused you. It gave a feeling of newfound loneliness when you stared at the unfamiliar ceiling with the wrong knots in the wood and the wrong bedding around you as you leaned against the oven. Ghost’s reassurances just a couple of hours ago now felt like a lie. You were no queen. And there was no way for you to live long enough to ever learn how to be one for König that was good enough. No standing on a box or life saving spells could change that. The finality of your fate was devastatingly simple. You would drown and König, your beloved König, would find himself a better queen. Why else did he withdraw himself like that?

The mauling insecurities inside of you stopped you from asking.

Instead you listened to König rummaging upstairs while you dozed under your moss blanket, practised drawing letters in the ashes of your oven or thought about how you could fix your wedding dress. It was pointless but you had little else to do and so you continued like you had always done.

König had brought the dress out together with the rest of your wet belongings, hanging it up to dry in the sun. The liberating concentration kept you from your dark thoughts: you had watched the dress through the window, mentally placing one piece of rag over the other in the hopes of possibly having a saving idea as the rags swayed gently in the breeze. It had worked until the light grew low and the trees around the house in the garden had started to spawn more unpleasant shadows than welcome distractions.

You got up from your cosy spot and started preparing dinner. Still feeling weak, your legs carried you with a slight tremor as your whole body was plagued by a deep tiredness. It came from all those times not resting. It felt like all those tears not shed. It was a tiredness that wasn’t fixed by sleeping longer one night because it was deeper than the soreness in your muscles and bones. It was the dark abyss of water calling for you. But you could lie to yourself. Opting to go to bed and calling it a day in the hopes that tomorrow would be better. Sometimes, giving up was actually a smart thing.

You huffed, once again forced to consider the reality of your situation.

Going to bed? Where? Your bedroom was destroyed. And the other rooms in your house had been packed up and sealed when your family died. Back then it was too much to bear seeing their things and looking at the places they used to rest. Even now, under no condition were you ready or willing to disturb those rooms. The easiest for you would probably be to sleep here in the kitchen.

But what about König? Would he need to sleep too? Flood the rest of the house and destroy every last bit of habitable space as he took you out in your sleep? Or would he leave you tonight and watch as the human-monsters and monsters-monsters finally had their feast with you. The thought nearly entertained you. Maybe that was better than drowning and at least some poor Tschort would enjoy a bit of your precious meat.

You chuckled at your own morbid thoughts.

But it was not night yet, and maybe there was a bit of queenly pride inside of you yet as you decided to brace yourself for an overdue conversation with König, leaning against the kitchen counter for support.

You opted to make some food. Since it might be your last chance to enjoy a meal before you became a meal, you took your time. There was not much to be done for dinner: heating the left-over stew, cutting some bread made of acorn flour, setting the table. After you finished, you steeled yourself for the hardest part.

“König?” You called upstairs. “Would you like to eat dinner with me?”

You held your breath and waited as the rumbling from upstairs stopped.

“It’s fine if you are busy, but I am hungry and would love your company,” You coaxed.

Heavy steps sounded through the wooden house, causing the old stairs to creak under the weight of the Vodyanoy.

König emerged into the kitchen, bowing down slightly under the marginally too low ceiling and looking at you sheepishly.

“Are you sure, Bride?” He asked. “I haven’t finished repairing your room.”

You raised your eyebrows in surprise, too stunned to speak before you swallowed down a good chunk of your raging insecurities. 

“So that’s what you have been doing up there,” You finally said. “I did not know.”

König looked to the ground like he had been caught stealing goodies from the pantry. It was a look that made your knees weaker than even a day facing terrors could.

“I wanted to repair it. I wanted to apologise with more than words. It’s what good kings ought to do.” He explained looking immensely guilty.

Your breath hitched.

He cared?

You looked down, still thinking of your room and your ruined wedding dress. It did hurt you.

But there was hope because he cared. You nearly hated yourself how desperate you were from the affection of someone who you could never have.

“It’s fine,” You said, after a few moments of heavy silence as you fought the storm inside of you. “It’s fine for now. We will make it work and repair it together. It’s, ah, fine.”

He looked relieved as you looked up from your hands.

“I also want to apologise,” You continued. The words in your mouth felt relieving to spit out like bitter medicine. “I thought about this. I was really cross at you. Not entirely sure how much nicer I could have been considering the moment. But I don’t strive to talk to others like that, especially not my fiance. I just felt hurt and alone.”

He turned his head like the Heron when hunting little fish in the water.

“You have every right to be angry, dear,” König stated

“I...” You tried before stopping and starting anew. “That does not mean I am proud or okay with my words. Especially after Ghost explained to me that you probably overworked yourself on my behalf. I am not sure how to feel about that yet but it does not make me feel good. I don’t want you to suffer because of me. I feel so guilty. And like a burden.”

König stared at you.

“Dear,” He said softly. “I know you want to be good and kind. I know you are. But please give me your bad as well.”

You blinked at him.

“What?”

He raised his arms like a man at a loss of word, stumbling around the room until he turned back to you.

“Guess how I feel failing you over and over again when your reaction to me is kindness and surrender? I feel bad. The worst! Don’t do this to me. Be a burden. Be angry. Be the biggest inconvenient person wherever you go. Please be angry and demand better of me! I want all of you. Not just the nice parts.”

Your head was spinning. Was he…? Did he really…?

“I am not good enough!” König continued his tirade with a voice rising louder and louder like a tea kettle that had reached its boiling point. “I am who puts you in danger over and over again. I hardly protect you from the dangers of the world. I am a danger of the world. I am making a poor husband for you. But the reality is, I am not good enough to step away because I am selfish. So, how dare you make yourself feel any less than you are.”

His eyes gleamed with a madness you had never seen before in him as he lowered his voice with the last of his words. It was dangerous. A sign of warning that told you to step back and run as far away as you could like a good girl should.

But you were just invited to leave that behind you.

“I don't want you to leave either!” You hit back, squaring up to the challenge. “I just don’t want to feel like I am a constant problem. I am just a human! A peasant! And a bad one at that since I will likely starve next winter without help! I know nothing of how to be a queen! I nearly drown all the time! How can you not understand that I don’t feel like I am allowed to be a problem when my reality is that no one cares if I live or die!”

“Because you are wrong! I care.” König's eyes gleamed as he hissed his answer.

“Why?” You spit back, the fire in you burning and ready to torch any bridge behind without thinking.

“Because I love you.”

Königs words hung in the air, irretrievable and powerful enough to break whatever you two had.

You looked at him. His face was frozen in fear and panic. Like he had admitted to a crime he’d sworn to keep a secret.

He loved you. The thought raced through your mind, unsure where to be put and what to do with it now.

“I am sorry,” König said. “I understand. I will make sure you are okay as promised anyway and-”

“Please…” you managed to your own surprise.

“Please?” König asked with his eyes shining down at you.

You took a deep breath and all the courage in you that was left, “Please lean down so I can kiss you.”

König looked at you, too stunned maybe or unsure how to touch you without breaking this human body of yours, before finally kneeling down in one, not so smooth, motion. You stumbled forward, colliding into his chest and tangling in his arms before lifting your head and kissing him.

It was all teeth and desperation. König met your lips with a hunger matching yours, and an anger challenging your long hidden fury. He moaned and you wanted every bit of air you could get from him as you roamed his back and shoulders and arms and chest and neck, and at a certain point you got lost in him. You bit his lips and tasted blood. He snarled and pushed you back, catching your head before you could fall and hurt yourself. You stumbled and fell back anyway, taking him with you. The crash rumbled loudly as König caught himself on his arms, hovering above you before continuing where you had left off. His mouth was addicting, and willingly you answered his salty lips and tongue. A bit of revealed skin at his neck here, a tug at your shirt there. You scooted up feeling hot and needing that damn old shirt off your body because you were burning up with it. Instead of getting it off quickly you got yourself tangled in the large sleeves, nearly ready to just tear it off your body as you felt Königs hands pulling at the fabric and freeing you. The kiss of the cooling air on your skin made you still. For a moment you felt shy, making you cross your arms in instinct before your chest.

König looked at you from a position that was something between kneeling, sitting and lying before you, also half out of his clothes with his Rubacha hanging around his neck and head.

“Not sure why I feel like this is new, now.” You admitted. “You have seen me naked before.”

“That was a different nakedness,” König offered and finished getting the shirt off. “This is new.”

You nodded, understanding entirely what he meant, and continued to feel vulnerable. What were you supposed to do? You had no idea what you wanted now except being close to König.

“We don’t have to continue, my love.” Your fiance said.

You nodded again, reassured yet still utterly lost on what to do.

König scooted closer and slowly raised his hands, “Can I touch you? I just want to hold you.”

Instead of bothering with words or another creative and variety serving nod, you leaned into him. Königs warm hands caught you, pressed you closer to him and embraced you.

You hummed.

“Is this good?”

“Yeah, I am sorry-”

“No,” König shut down instantly. “No more ‘sorry’ for you tonight. Or ever. I really meant that.”

You knitted your eyebrows together in confusion.

“But what if I do something bad?” You countered as you enjoyed feeling close to König. “Shouldn’t I say sorry at some point?”

“To me? Always.” König grinned teasingly before growing serious. “The rest of the world, however, has a lot of apologising to do before you ever get back into a situation to be sorry for something, dear.”

“You just want me to be as bad as you are,” You teased back half-heartedly.

“Naturally.”

You stayed silent, not sure what to say or do except enjoying being safe and loved in Königs arms as you mindlessly explored his back and chest with your fingers, drawing little circles and charms into his wonderful skin.

“We should talk about the sleeping situation tonight.” You finally spoke, breaking the silent spell over you.

“Yeah.” König agreed. “I have an idea.”

Cultural Context Notes:

The theme of the unkillable giants as beings connected to nature can be found in the Edda, but it’s not the only place this theme is explored. It’s just the most clear one I thought of, and can be put into words as a place to maybe start researching if your are interested in that. The idea of hitting König as something akin to a giant to wake him up, comes from the tale of Thor and Skrímnir.

Generally, the idea of paralleling gods/godlike beings, humans and giants, escalated into a bit of a philosophical excursion at the kitchen table when I mentioned how the story is unfolding, leading to the question what exactly the difference between godlings, giants and humans is and if there even is one. In plenty of pre-Christian European tales, there aren’t boundaries between godlike beings and humans. If a human stays with a godlike being, they kind of tag along and don’t die like they would have had when staying with their fellow humans. Sometimes there is an explanation for it (godly ancestry, nectar or Idun’s apples, magical blessings), sometimes there isn’t (Thialfi and Röskva as Thor’s entourage, general trope of humans in service of or in marriage with a non-human being). 

Warming stones or using ceramics is an old practice when hot water bottles weren’t available.

There are several legends and myths associating the water or waters generally with snakes. Naturally, there is the saga of the Midgard snake, encompassing the world in Norse mythology. The theme of a great water snake or mermaid-like half-fish, half-human body encompassing the world also comes up in Greek mythology in the figure of Oceanos as the great river god and father of river gods. Since we don’t have plenty of sources about old Slavic beliefs, I am taking the liberty and filling some gaps here from geographically closer regions where we do have more sources on mythology.

Acorn is edible and can be made into a fine flour from which it is possible to bake bread. However, do not just make flour from acorns. It’s a huge process to disinfect and debitter acorns before grinding them into flour. There is a reason why nowadays most cultures opt for utilising cultivated crops like grains and legumes instead of using low yield giving nuts and seeds. (Also, we really need those acorns as food for wild animals and for reforestation!) Cultivation of plants is a huge game changer for human life quality and communal living. It’s really cool. But it does require more cooperative systems of labour since harvesting and processing plants like grain requires sharing of work, space to do it, and natural weather & ground conditions to grow. Plus the grain in itself needs to be cultivated first. And these amazing food sources can be exploited by having control over places in which one can grow certain high yielding crops which can trigger war and oppression. Most noticeably in the Central and Eastern European region, which is obviously what I write about a lot, this is the case with Ukraine. This now independent country has good climate and ground conditions, yielding great harvests of wheat grain and sunflower, leading to the region being dubbed the Granary of Europe. Ukraine was fought over not just today but also occupied in historical moments like WW2 by the Nazis or under the Russian Empire precisely to have access to these high yielding conditions. So, food and where food comes from, is an important angle to understand plenty of conflicts, imperial oppression and cultures. I invite you to read more about the history of grain, why Ukraine has a flag literally depicting a grain filed under the blue sky or maybe learning how to make bread yourself. To return to my point:  Bride lives in an area which has seasons. However, the climate is cooler with lots of swamps and waters around. The forest takes most of the shore space in her immediate vicinity. She has a garden in which she (tries to) grow buckwheat, a very climate-resistant pseudo grain. And technically she owns fields, but has no way to work them on her own due to the lack of manpower, possible lack of seeds, as well as timing issues for the sowing. But common grains like wheat require a warm and steady dry climate which is not the case here. Other grains like rye are historically common in Central and Eastern Europe, however one needs to plant them first and after the harvest it still requires labour to dry and deshell the rye first, a luxury that Bride does not have because she has been on her own for most of the year. So, to finish this long excursion on grains and flours - she uses acorn flour for bread because she was isolated and on her own. Also, agriculture is really cool and maybe you will think about the amount of labour, logistics, politics and historical development when biting into something flour based.

Vodyanitza is just the female version of Vodynoy

Rubacha is the name of the traditional linen shirt worn by historically both men and women but nowadays mostly associated with male clothing traditions. This shirt is often loosely fitted and bound at the hip with a belt. Having embroidery, especially red embroidery on a Rubacha is very common as red natural dye was widely available in the region. The embroidery and introduction of other colours is dependent on the exact time and place a Rubacha comes from. Even nowadays the Rubacha is part of plenty of Eastern European traditional dresses.

Quick reminder: a Tschort is a type of evil spirit.

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[riahlynn101]

Can you write a little O.S. About Mike x Vanessa during a festive period like Christmas, with Abby ( only for a moment ) and the ghosts of the animatronics, out of the bots but somehow, they still can be seen by Mike, Vanessa and Abby

I wrote more than I thought I would :D!! This request was so fun to write, so thank you for asking for it! Hope you enjoy <3

Trigger warnings: Implied/referenced murder and kidnapping (but it's not the focus of the one shot).

Word count: 1, 387

--

It’s the day before Christmas. 

Boughs of (plastic) holly and colorful tinsel hang from the restaurant’s walls. Mike couldn’t afford a tree (fake or otherwise), so he improvised (if only for the children). In its place sits the saddest bare branch tree. Hardly a tree, really, and more of a large stick with a few Christmas ornaments hanging off it. 

The children adored it, though. Which is all that matters, at least in Mike’s book. 

They sit with his sister in front of the tree. Abby’s teaching (or re-teaching. There’s no telling what they knew before they…..) them Christmas Carols. 

“They look like they’re having fun,” Vanessa says. They stand near the arcade, supervising. 

“Good,” Mike mutters, keeping a close eye on them. After what happened last time he let a younger sibling wander out of his sight, he’s not taking any chances. “It’s the least they deserve. And it’s not like any of us are going anywhere, anytime soon.”

Vanessa, Abby, and him were all snowed in during his shift. It might be possible to drive home, but he would rather not risk it with his sister in the car. And Vanessa decided to join them until the storm passed. 

It’s not a bad situation by any means, and certainly not the worst Christmas Eve Mike has ever experienced. They’re warm and safe and together. That has to count for something.

Vanessa seems to process his words, lips pursing into a thin line. “Yeah,” she agrees. 

They continue watching over the kids for a moment longer. 

“Hey,” Vanessa says, nudging his arm.

Mike looks at her. “What?”

“I wanna show you something, c’mon.” She heads into the arcade. Worry gnaws at Mike, keeping him in place. It’s not that he doesn’t trust the other kids, it’s just….

“She’ll be okay,” Vanessa reassures, grabbing his hand. “We won’t be long.”

It didn’t long for Garrett to be…

He doesn’t finish that thought. Mike allows her to slot their fingers together. The action makes a part of him feel dizzy. But the good kind of dizzy. 

The kind that feels like a thousand butterflies have taken up residence in his stomach, and are flapping their wings at the same time. 

Mike looks over his shoulder at his sister, one last time. Before following Vanessa deeper into the pizzeria.

She leads him by the hand, making idle chatter. Mike finds he likes listening to her. Not a second goes by that he grows bored of her excited ramblings. Even when she tells him the same story for the tenth time, he still reacts like it’s the very first time. 

Vanessa stops suddenly. “Here,” she murmurs. 

“What?” 

Giddily, like a child on Christmas morning, she points at something above their heads. 

“Oh,” Mike says, staring at the mistletoe hung in the doorway of the backroom. He can’t remember bringing it here, nor can he recall hanging it up. Which means….

Vanessa deflates a little, backing up. “I didn’t mean to pressure you. We can just shake hands if you-”

Her lips taste like peppermint. Mike thinks, fingers tangling themselves in her hair. Most likely from the candy canes they ate as an after dinner treat. Vanessa’s warm. Warmer than anyone he has ever met before. It’s a good warmth, too. Like a blanket on a chilly morning. 

She grips the back of his shirt, kissing him with just as much fervor. 

They pull away, panting, and faces red.

“Uh….thank you,” Vanessa says, awkward as ever. 

Mike quirks an eyebrow, trying to think of the right words. Something to put her at ease, and make things not awkward. “....Anytime….?” He tries, biting his bottom lip for emphasis. Which instantly makes Mike feel more awkward, so he immediately stops doing it. 

She laughs. “Anytime,” Vanessa says, nodding her head. Turning to leave, she looks over her shoulder at Mike. “That was….fun.”

It takes him a solid five minutes for his brain to process what just happened. And another five minutes to actually head back to the lobby. 

The kids have curled up together and fallen asleep, like a bunch of puppies. Which raises the question of how ghosts can sleep, but Mike is in too much of a good mood to put much stock in what sleeping habits the supernatural have. 

He sits beside Vanessa in a booth. Snow continues to softly fall outside. The lights are dim. All of them are together. 

“It’s peaceful,” she says, a sort of fondness in her eyes whenever she looks at the kids. 

Mike hums, resting his chin in his hand. The Christmas lights they strung up around the stage are set to change colors every so often. He watches them change from red to green, a smile forming on  his face.

“Christmas used to be my favorite,” he admitted.

“Mine, too. It was the only day of the year that my dad paid attention to me. He would make me breakfast, always pancakes in the shape of rabbits and bacon. And then, we would open gifts.” Vanessa frowns. 

Mike sighs. It hurts to talk about the past, but if it makes her feel less alone. “My parents would make Garrett and I breakfast, as well. Mom liked to change it up every year. One year was pancakes, the next was this jell-o concoction that she found in a Reader’s Digest.”

A smile returned to Vanessa’s face. “Did it taste good?”

“No.”

“No? It couldn’t have been that bad?”

“Imagine if the grossest meatloaf you’ve ever had suddenly had the consistency of jello.”

Vanessa stuck her tongue out. “That sounds disgusting.”

“It was, but mom was proud of it. So, we all ate it without complaint. You should have seen how happy it made her,” Mike says, smiling fondly at the memory. He can still recall the stomach that followed, but his mom’s genuine reaction made it all worth it. (It wasn’t until later that Garrett and his dad admitted that they gave their portions to the dog. Something they failed to fill him in on). 

“I remember one Christmas in particular. Now, Garrett was really into all things airplanes. He drew them all the time. Liked to play pilots. And even his blanket was covered in images of tiny airplanes.”

Vanessa listened to him, chin propped on her fist. 

“Well, one day, when I was walking home from school, I saw a toy airplane in the window of an antique store. I immediately thought of my brother. Our parents would give us money to buy each other a present. But the plane was far out of my budget.”

“Did you find a different one?” Her tone is soft. “I can’t imagine you gave up.”

“I shoveled a lot of driveways that year. Babysat, and did extra chores, too. I was beyond exhausted, but Garrett’s joyous squeals as he pulled the plane out was worth every penny.” It’s Mike’s turn to frown. “That was our last Christmas with Garrett.”

Vanessa takes his hand, rubbing circles with her thumb. “It sounds like you’ve always been a good big brother.”

“Yeah,” he mutters sheepishly. Suddenly, he feels embarrassed. “I guess I was.”

“Are,” Vanessa corrects. 

“What?”

“You are a good brother. Nothing’s changed.”

He thinks of Abby right then. Of her drawings that feature them together. Of tucking her in at night. And of them joking around and being silly together. 

He thinks of the children. Kids that-had that gotten a chance to grow up-would have been around his and Vanessa’s age. Mike thinks of how they seem eager to show off to him, crowding around him first thing during his shift. Pale cherubic faces staring up at him with something akin to wonder.

Even the blond-haired boy, who only occasionally finds time in his busy schedule to visit Mike while he’s at work (and less rare, but definitely not welcomed, while he’s at home). 

He smiles, squeezing Vanessa’s hand. “You’re right. Thank you.”

“Anytime,” she says, echoing her sentiment from earlier. 

And, for some inexplicable reason, Mike knows she means it with all her heart, mind, and soul. With every single fiber of her being. 

Him, too. Mike thinks, idly, staring into the most beautiful blue eyes. Like two stars shining in the deep, dark void of space. Anytime, anywhere he’ll be there for her.

[siriusly-rem-writes]

Where will we end up? (TEASER)

A build-up to Sunset Curve and their honorary member. Pls see the bottom for more info!!

Content warnings: Female reader, mentions of anxiety, Alex’s hinted feelings for Luke, parents fighting, lack of father figure, hinted selective mutism and use of Y/N (could change for actual fic)

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July 27, 1990

The air was sticky. The Los Angeles sun beat down on three kids who were on the verge of being teenagers as they rode their bikes down to the pier. School was starting soon and all three had different worries that led to the same conclusion; what’s gonna happen to them? 

For Alex Mercer, worrying about everything was his job. If he didn’t worry, how would he be prepared for every possible outcome? He was starting his 8th-grade year. The ‘Kings of Middle School’ as everyone would say, but he felt sick thinking about stepping up to the crown. Of course, he felt like this before every new school year but that wasn’t going to stop him from doing it again. He worried about his classes, and how many he would share with Y/N. He worried about how Y/N was going to handle the classes they didn’t share. He worried about how hot-headed Luke would handle 9th grade. He worried that Luke would make other friends and not want to hang out with 8th graders. He worried that Y/N won’t need him as much this year. And he worried she’d grow tired of him on the days he struggled to leave the house. He worried about the feeling he’d get in his stomach every time Luke smiled at him. Why did his friend make him so anxious? He shook his head and pedaled faster.

For Luke Patterson, worrying about the future wasn’t something he experienced often. Sure he wondered what his life would look like 5 years from now but didn’t everyone? He was starting 9th grade, ‘fresh-meat’ as upper-classmen would call them. He worried it would be too much. Heck, he’d only been living in LA for a year and now he has to leave his only two friends behind. He had tried to flunk 8th grade just so that the three of them could be in the same grade moving forward. Y/N had smacked him upside the head so hard he hissed just remembering it. He worried that if he stayed away too long, Alex and Y/N would realize they didn’t need him. The two were already attached to the hip when he came along and wedged his way in. Maybe they don’t need him as much as he needs them. They have each other and perhaps that’s enough. He worried he’d fall behind without Y/N keeping him in check. He worried about how he won’t be there to help Alex on the days everything was just too much. And he worried about who would be there to calm him down when everything was a little too loud and the clothes he wore were a little too rough that it made him want to peel his skin off. He sighed and pedaled faster.

For Y/N Y/L/N, worrying about the ‘what ifs’ was her favorite pastime. It wasn’t really. But they plagued her mind every free moment she had. What if Alex branched off? What if he didn’t need her anymore? What if Luke made friends? What if he spends more time in high school and won’t hang around them anymore? What if both Luke and Alex split off together? They were both guys and maybe they’ll realize it’s better with just the two of them. She worried they’d become someone she’d walk by and have to pretend the time they spent together didn’t exist. That the secrets they whispered to each other in the night disappeared as the sun came up. That the dreams they shared were snuffed out as time went on. She worried that she’d look into their eyes and instead of being met with the familiar warmth of home, she’d be met the reflection of who they once were and what they once met to each other. She wondered if she’d be able to navigate the 8th grade and life afterward without her two fellow musketeers at her side. She wiped the single tear off her face and pedaled faster.

----------

The comic book shop was cool as the air-conditioner rumbled in the background. Hot gusts of wind accompany the little bell as someone enters the shop. The sign on the door encouraging customers to fully close it so as to keep the cool air from escaping. School was starting soon and as a boy sits on the beanbag that’s become his designated spot, he worries about starting the 8th grade.

For Reggie Peters, worrying about school has never been a big thing unless it involved bringing home classmates for a group project. Which he always managed to avoid. At least, that was his only worry until recently. His parents’ fighting had gotten worse. The words he had heard his parents yell at each other as he sat on the stairs had caused him to gasp. Which happened to be the last sound he made. He wondered how two people who swore to love each other could utter such things. He hadn’t been able to talk in almost two months and now school was right around the corner and he worried about interactions. He worried teachers would get upset with him like his parents had. He worried people would find him rude, thinking he was ignoring them. He wondered how he would make friends in his classes if the mere attempt at speaking caused him physical discomfort. He grabbed the water bottle and granola bar that sat on the napkin with “For Reggie” scribbled on it. He smiled at the gesture. He hoped his voice would come back so he could properly thank the owners of the comic book store that felt more like home than his house ever did.

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The sun shone brightly as a boy skated through the park. His eyes squinted as the light hit him directly in the face. Placing a hand over his forehead in an attempt to block the rays, his eyes widened as he realized he was heading straight toward a girl walking her dog. He quickly maneuvered around to avoid hitting her only for his wheel to catch a stone causing him to land on his side. He groaned as he sat up, dusting off his dark jeans and rolling his eyes as he noticed he scraped his elbow yet again. He leaned back on his hands and looked up at the sky peeking through the leaves of the tree he had found himself under.

For Bobby Shaw, worrying about stuff was something he always tried to keep under wraps. His mom worried enough as it was and he didn’t want to add it. As the ‘man of the house’ he had to keep cool under the gaze of both his mom and grandma. He briefly wondered where his dad was. He had recently promoted from the 8th grade without a father in the crowd. The thought immediately went away. Why should he care about the man that walked out on him and his mom? He was starting 9th grade soon and his mom was making a fuss about it. Something about him growing up fast. He was tall for his age and his grandma always nags him about the ridiculous clothes he wears. Asking him how he hoped to make friends if the sight of him was enough to intimidate. He was worried. For what? He wasn’t sure. He didn’t care much for school. He didn’t care much for consistent company. He had skatepark buddies but that was all they were and he didn’t mind. He worried the most about disappointing his grandma. He didn’t hold the same traditional views as she did but he knew that she loved him regardless. And maybe he was lying about how little he actually cared about everything else. But that wasn’t something he was ready to unpack. He stood up, grabbed his board and kicked off.

CONTEXT

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A/N: Hi! I finally have motivation AND some free time to actually write something. This story is going to follow the boys and the reader as they navigate through high school, meet each other, start the band, be teenagers, face struggles, and feel feelings. I'm not sure how you all feel about "Y/N" Please let me know, I can totally name her and have it be more of an OC!

The fic will be including my personal headcanons for the boys and there's more backstory to how Y/N, Alex and Luke met if you're interested in like a flashback thing. Or a separate headcanon list/context for each person.

Also, this is probably going to be a Reggie x Reader/Bobby x Reader. I have not decided 100%

Thank you for taking the time to read this little thing, please let me know if you'd like it to be an actual fic!

[blueberryrock]

An Inquisitive Took

A/N hmph i can't find a good Christmas gif for this fic, oh well, merry late Christmas @starryeyedrogue!!! I meant to post this to tumblr yesterday but oh well, i hope you enjoy it again lmao 😏

Rules, Requests, and More!

"Thank you for helping me out with these Frodo," Y/N says with a small huff as she sets down a small dusty chest on the wooden floors of her house. Watching as her new cousin sets a larger and dustier chest down beside hers. "Is it weird that I am nervous about our first Christmas together?"

"Well it will be your first Christmas together as a married couple," Frodo corrects as he wipes his brow. "Have you gotten him anything?"

"Yes actually," Y/N sighs, bending down to unlock the small chest she was carrying. "I have a gotten them a few hours ago but Pippin won't stop pestering me for them the whole week."

"Ah yes," Frodo hums as he watches Y/N open the small chest. "He does live up to his title as the inquisitive Took, you know."

"No need to remind me," Y/N huffs as she opens the small chest, cringing at its squeaky hinges. "His birthdays are a nightmare, but alas it is worth it to see how his face lights up after opening his gifts."

"Well if you ever need any help or a safe space to hide the presents,” Frodo says with a small smile, watching as Y/N pulls out a striped red and green knitted stocking with a large golden embroidered ‘P’. “I have plenty of space.”

Y/N hums as she lays the stocking on the floor next to her. “Thank you, my friend,” Y/N mutters as she pulls out another matching stocking with a large golden letter with the same letter as her name. “But I should be fine, I just have to be crafty with my hiding spots, you don’t think he will look behind the squashes in our pantry will he?”

“Knowing him,” Frodo sighs as he crosses his arms. “He won’t look behind them, just do not hide them behind the potatoes.”

“Good, good, hopefully when he is out with Merry today I can wrap them,” Y/N mutters, sitting back on her knees to look up at her cousin-in-law. “Well, I believe we can handle the decorations here.” 

“Sounds good, be sure to head to Baggend with Pippin later tonight,” Frodo hums as he turns towards the front door. “You both have been invited for dinner by Bilbo.”

“Tell him that we will be there!” Y/N calls out before Frodo closes the front door behind him. After pulling most of the decorations out, Y/N piles them neatly on the floors of the large living room. 

Standing to her feet, Y/N stretches her back with a quiet groan before she wipes off the dust on her dress. Turning her head to the left, Y/N spares a glance at the small clock resting on the living room's large fireplace mantle. It was only a quarter till four, and if Y/N remembers anything from last year, Pippin will be out for at least another hour or two, giving Y/N plenty of time to wrap his presents.

"Y/N!" Pippin's cheerful voice rings through the house, making Y/N scramble to her feet. "I have the tree that you asked for!"

"That's wonderful love!" Y/N half-heartedly replies, trying to hide her growing panic as she looks down at the barely wrapped presents at her feet, wondering where she can quickly stash them. 

"Merry had to–ugh–help me carry it a-all the way up here you know," Pippin grunts as the sound of rustling tree branches grows louder. Y/N chews on her bottom lip as she looks around the living room, she had thought he would be out for much longer so now she has to improvise. 

Her eyes land on a large blanket lazily draped across her reading chair by the fireplace. As Y/N's fingers sink into the blanket's soft fibers, she tosses it over the wrapping supplies and Pippin's presents. "At least it didn't take me all day like last year you know?" Pippin says, rambling on as he continues to drag the tree closer and closer towards the living room…towards his presents. 

“Yes, yes,” Y/N says dismissively as she continues to look over the blanket to make sure nothing is peaking out. “I am so glad you got home early.”

“Now we can put up the decorations early!” Pippin exclaims, a smile grows on Y/N’s lips as Pippin turns the corner into the living room. His hair sticks out from the hat she had to wrestle him to put on and his cheeks are red from under his small scarf, which Y/N chalks up from dragging the large tree that she can see behind him.

“Yes,” Y/N replies with a simple nod, earning herself a confused look from Pippin. “And I can’t wait!”

“Y/N are you okay?” Pippin asks as he sets the trunk of the tree he was dragging onto the floor beside him. “You seem off?”

“What? No, I’m fine,” Y/N says quickly, hoping to shut down any more of his questions before he notices the blanket behind her. “Just umm, just happy that we’ll be able to spend our first Christmas together,” Y/N adds as she pushes some of the blanket away from her foot. “W-why don’t you change into less layers perhaps and we can put the tree up?”

Pippin watches her carefully before taking his hat off with a slight shrug, a small snort leaves Y/N at the sight of his unruly hair. “Remind to never wear a hat again,” Pippin mutters as he runs a hand through his messy curls before turning to walk out of the living room.

Y/N waits, listening to Pippin’s fading footsteps, before whipping around to look at the hidden presents. Grabbing some of the thick blanket in hand, Y/N carefully peels it off in order to not disturb the presents underneath. Once she sees both gifts, Y/N quickly scoops them up in her free hand before tossing the blanket back onto the reading chair. 

Not wanting to drop either gift onto the unforgiving floor, Y/N carefully cradles the presents carefully in both hands as she quickly leaves the living room. Turning her head to look down the hallway that (after a few turns) leads to their bedroom, Y/N quickly decides to head down the other way towards the main entrance and more importantly the pantry. As Y/N starts to make her way down the hall, past the main entrance, she fails to hear Pippin sneaking out of their room and following her down the hall. 

“Where are you going?” Y/N jumps at the sudden sound of Pippin’s voice behind her, a grimace grows on her face as she looks down at the gifts she holds in her hands. “Were we going to put up the tree or…”

Turning on her heels, Y/N was grateful for the gifts small size as she hid them behind her back. “Oh yes of course,” she replies with a smile. “I was just umm…just…”

Pippin watches her with curiosity as his gaze then moves to her hands or lack thereof. “You’re hidin’ something aren’t you?” a large grin spreads across his face at his realization. “Let me see!”

Y/N opens her mouth to tell him that she has nothing in her hands but she knows that he won’t stop pressing until she gives him proof of empty hands. “Yes I do have something for you,” she says with a sigh as Pippin starts bouncing in excitement. “But! It is for Christmas, so as much as I would love to give them to you, you must kno-”

“Them?!” Pippin asks excitedly, stretching to stand on his tiptoes to try and look over Y/N’s back.

“Pippin!” Y/N exclaims, quickly regaining her husband’s attention. “Yes, there are two gifts in my hands, now I want you to go back to the living room and wait patiently.” A deep frown grows on Pippin’s face as he studies Y/N, wondering if she’s being serious until she starts shifting the gifts behind her back to grab his shoulder and turn him around. “Now shoo! I must hide these!”

With a little nudge, Pippin’s shoulders droop as he shuffles back down the hall to the living room. Y/N watches him turn the corner and then swiftly turns around to continue to head down the hall towards the pantry. After shoving the small gifts carefully behind a large sack of squashes in the very back of their pantry, satisfied with her work Y/N nods before deciding to grab a small tray of rolls as she exits the pantry. 

Humming a soft tune, Y/N quickly makes her way back to where she knows Pippin is waiting for her. “I thought rolls would go great with decorating,” Y/N says as she turns into the living room, finding Pippin had already got the tree standing.

“Great idea love,” Pippin says with a soft smile, making a soft blush grow on Y/N’s face as she crosses the short distance between them to hold out the small tree. “I have already put the skirt on if you want to grab the first box of ornaments?” he says as he takes the biggest roll and shoves it all into his mouth.

A small giggle escapes Y/N as Pippin tries not to choke on the roll. Setting the small tray on the arm of the reading chair, Y/N grabs one of the boxes of ornaments she found in the chests earlier and drags it right over to Pippin. "Thamks dear," Pippin says around the large roll as he pulls out a small silver ornament. "I'm glab to hase some help thiss year."

"Swallow your food Pippin," Y/N hums as she carefully pulls out a large red and silver ornament and places it near the bottom of the tree.

"Ah yes," Pippin replies as he quickly finishes the last of his bread roll. "I'm glad to finally have some help this year ya know! Last year all my cousins left me to do all the decorating!”

“Well I’m sure none of them could decorate a tree half as well as you,” Y/N says, bending down to take out another ornament,  finding the box to be half empty already. “Or as fast as you too.”

“Thank you Y/N,” Pippin mumbles as nothing but the sound of the crackling fire and the soft sound of rustling branches fills the room. As Y/N grabs the last delicate ornament in the crate, she takes a few steps back to look at the half-covered tree before glancing over at Pippin. A warm smile spreads across her face as she watches her husband fiddling with a star-shaped ornament.

“I shall grant you one question,” Y/N says, handing him the ornament in her hands. “But no more that.” She can feel the excitement radiating off of the Took as he takes the ornament carefully from her hands.

“One question?” Pippin hums as he walks around the tall tree to find the perfect spot for the ornament. “That’s no fun.”

“Mmmm well you better hurry up before I change my mind,” Y/N quips, turning to find the other half of their ornaments. 

“Fine, fine,” Pippin huffs quietly. “How big are they? Ooooh, are they food?”

“That was two questions Pip,” Y/N softly laughs as she drags the other crate to the tree. “But no they’re not food, and they can fit in both hands….I think.” Y/N looks down at her hands, quickly remembering the size and smoothness of the gifts. “Definitely palm-sized.”

“Hmmm they’re palm-sized but not food,” Pippin mutters as he stretches to put a small ornament near the very top of the tree.

Y/N scrunches her nose softly before plucking another large ornament out of the crate. “Why does it sound like you’re guessing?” She asks, shooting him a slight glare which earns her a mischievous smile.

“Well,” Pippin starts with a grin. “Guessing is fun….is it a book?”

“I said you get two questions Took,” Y/N sighs as she crosses her arms across her chest. “But no it is not a book.”

“What about a….”

“Pippin….”

“A stone statue? Well, statues?” A frown grows on Y/N’s name at how close his guess is, surely he won’t guess wood carving. “I got close didn’t I?” He asks with a sly grin just before he gets a small smack to his shoulder.

“Maybe…” Y/N sighs. “But also not at all, so stop guessing!"

"Ah, but if I'm close, that only means I should continue." That earns Pippin a scowl from Y/N, which he just laughs off. 

"I am going to throw something at you Pippin," Y/N says with a frown, turning to look at the rolls resting on the reading chair. 

“You wouldn’t,” Pippin says, glaring at Y/N as he steps away from the tree in case she does decide to throw something his way. “Especially if I get really close to the tree.”

Y/N snaps her gaze back to her husband as he carefully takes a few steps back until some of the tree’s branches are poking through his hair. “Hmph,” Y/N frowns. “Just be careful not to knock over the tree Pippin.” She adds with a small sigh as she bends down to grab another ornament. 

“Can I ask just one more question?” Pippin asks as he slides up next to her, brushing his hand against hers.

“Hmmmm maybe,” Y/N hums, a small smile growing on her lips as she slowly inches closer. “Only if you give me something in return.”

“What’d that be?”

“A kiss,” Y/N grins as she sees a slight blush creeping up Pippin’s cheeks.

“Anything for you love.”

Join the Taglist!!!

@starryeyedrogue, @errruvande, @sotwk,

[smollangrycat]

Eek

(Avatar: WOW Oc)

Note - If you haven’t notice, Prt 4 of Drown mentions a new character … Eek!  P.s Chapter 5 will be out soon 😇😁

I have a couple personal head cannons for some characters but just because I like them doesn’t mean you have to but it also doesn’t mean that there wrong so please be mindful that everyones allowed to have an opinion (it doesn’t mean you have to agree with them) thank you! 🥰

Eek is the youngest child of Tonowari and Ronal

I totally HC’s that Ronal and Tonowaris children call them mama and papa. (I just think it’s so dam cute 😆😅)

Eek loves diving and swimming, he can often be found collecting sea shells from the bottom of the reef. (He gives them to him mama🥺)

He enjoys spending time with his older sister Tsireya, she helps him bead his hair or add little shells.

Aonung has middle child syndrome. Kidding, he’s fine (probably). He loves his little brother tho, when they were younger he would always hold Eeks hand to make sure he didn’t get lost. (He still got lost but Aonung tried) 

Aonung is very protective over his little brother and will just aggressive hiss at him if he dose somthing stupid (doesn’t notice the hypocrisy in the situation as Aonung did the exact same thing the day before) 😑

Eek and Rotxo joke around together (I Hc that Rotxo was taken in the Ronal and Tonowari … I just think it’s cute) Eek constantly jumping in Rotxos back and then playing hide and seek all the time.

Eek is terrified of heights. He’ll freeze if he’s to far up from the ground meaning someone (Most likely Anoung or Tsireya as Rotxo can’t reach) will have to come get him down.

He climbed up a tree when he was little (around six) and was to scared to clim down and after about an hour of Aonung, Rotxo and Tsireya trying to coax’s him back down they gave in and went to get there dad que Tonowari being nearly the same hight as the tree and lifting his son from the branches and into his arms. 🥹

(Six year old) Eek - My papas a giant.

Eek did not let go of his dad for the rest of the day. Tonowari walked around the clan doing his chiefly duties while carrying a six year old on his hip (tbh it wasn’t that uncommon)

Eek was (still is) a cuddle bug - his family tease his relentlessly about it.

As Eek grows up he develops a kinda flirty, comical attitude. (Reminds me of Nick Wild from Zootopia/Zootropolis) 

He is very caring and soft but after being teased a lot for it growing up doesn’t show it very often.

He is the kind of kid that If a little one has lost a toy he won’t stop until it has been returned 

He’s soooo sweet, but has an attitude you know? (He’s definitely Nick Wild from Zootopia/Zootropolis)

Note - There will be some HC’s of him interacting with his family/ his reaction to the Sullys 🥰🥰 Hope your exited!!

[karebear4499]

You Are My Sunshine Chapter 5

Sunshine observed a page in the scrapbook before flipping back to the map. She remembered Poppy teaching her and the other trollings that shortly after the tribes reunited, some trolls decided to broaden their own horizons and live amongst each others’ tribes. It wasn’t unusual nowadays to see Country trolls living in Volcano Rock City or Funk trolls living in Symphonyville, for instance.

Maybe that was how she would find her family. There were bound to be other Pop trolls in the kingdom, not just in TrollsTopia.

She looked out at the expanse of water before her, almost too scared to even dip a toe into it. Techno Reef would definitely be the hardest region to explore, so it seemed like a good place to start her journey.

She took a few steps backwards and tried to swallow her fears, but she was already having second thoughts about taking this plunge. She had never been the best swimmer, and while she had visited Techno Lagoon before, that region was a puddle compared to the Reef. How easy would it be for her to lose her way, or dive too deep and not be able to come up for air in time?

She steeled herself, looking at the water’s surface with newfound determination. “I can do this,” she thought, “For my family.” Taking a deep breath and counting to three, she was just about to jump when…

“Whoa, that was close!”

King Trollex had appeared right as Sunshine’s feet had left the ground, catching her and bringing her back to the shore. “You can’t just dive in all by yourself like that,” he said, sternly, “Not trying to be harsh or anything, I just don’t want to see any kids get hurt.”

Sunshine felt her face grow hot with embarrassment. While she was upset at the sudden interruption, she knew the Techno king was right; she hadn’t put enough thought into what she would do when she reached the bottom.

“S-sorry, Mr. Trollex,” she said shyly, “I-I’m just trying to find my family. I don’t know if you remember me, but—”

“Oh yeah,” Trollex interrupted, “You’re the troll Poppy and Branch found in that storm years ago.” His fins drooped sadly as he added, “you still haven’t found your parents?”

“I haven’t really had the chance to look,” Sunshine replied, “until now. I know they have to be somewhere in Troll Kingdom.”

“Well, I’m afraid you won’t have much luck finding them here,” the king said, “Non-Techno trolls are pretty few and far between here.”

“I was afraid of that,” Sunshine pouted, looking at her map again. “Well, thanks anyway.”

“Wait,” Trollex called as she began to walk away, “Aren’t you gonna give Poppy and Branch a chance to catch up with you before you run off?”

She froze, her back turned to him. When she didn’t respond, he asked, “Sunny, they are here with you, aren’t they?”

She still didn’t respond, instead letting out a quiet sob. “They never would’ve let me do this if I told them.”

Trollex gasped in shock. “Oh, hun,” he said, “I’m sure that’s not true. They know how important this is to you, and they want you to be happy. Now they’re probably worried sick about you.”

Sunshine’s sobs began to get a bit louder. “You don’t understand,” she cried, “I have to do this on my own. I’m not letting anyone stop me.” She ran off before Trollex could say anything in response.

…

“Okay, let’s see if we have any luck here,” Branch said as he and Poppy approached the melodious sounds of Symphonyville. The Classical trolls were flying about among the clouds, some strumming harps and others playing various wind instruments. These tunes were being accompanied by a couple of Rock trolls on guitars and a Country troll on harmonica, the latter blending surprisingly well with the more traditional sounds.

“Ah, Queen Poppy,” Trollzart greeted as he approached the two pop trolls, “To what do we owe this pleasure?”

“It’d better be a pleasure,” Branch muttered under his breath. Ignoring him, Poppy told Trollzart of their predicament. “Do you have any idea where Sunshine might be?”

“I’m sorry to say I don’t,” Trollzart replied, “but I wish you good luck in your search.”

As they turned to leave, Branch and Poppy were suddenly stopped by one of the Country trolls and Beetrollven. “It just so happens,” the Classical troll began, “We came across a little trolling who was looking for her family.”

“You did,” Branch shouted, hopeful smiles spreading across his and Poppy’s faces.

“We helped her out where we could,” the Country troll, Cash, said, “But we didn’t have much luck.”

“Where is she now,” Poppy asked.

“Well,” Beetrollven sighed, “we don’t know. We figured you two would be worried about her, and we told her as much. For whatever reason, it seemed to make her very upset.”

“She hightailed it outta here before either of us could stop her,” Cash continued.

Poppy and Branch’s smiles quickly faded as they looked at each other with sadness and concern. Trollex had told them the same thing.

Branch turned away from his girlfriend and began storming angrily towards Cash and Beetrollven. Being so close to finding Sunshine only to be sent right back to square one seemed to have set something off in him.

“Did you even try to go after her,” he said, exasperated, “Or did you just let her get away? You can fly, for hair’s sake! You had a chance to stop her and you let her go off on her own?! She’s just a kid! I swear, if anything happens to her because of you, I’m gonna—”

“Branch!”

He snapped out of his wrathful state as Poppy quickly wrapped her arms around his waist, stopping him from starting a physical confrontation. He hadn’t even realized what he was doing until he saw his raised fist and the two trolls cowering in fear. He slowly lowered his hand and sighed guiltily. “I’m-I’m sorry,” he stammered, “I just…”

“I know,” Poppy said, squeezing him a little tighter, “You’re worried about her.”

Trollzart flitted back over to them and placed a comforting hand on both of their shoulders. “I am certain that little girl is going to be just fine,” he said, pointing towards the setting sun, “But I recommend waiting until morning to continue your search. I’ve arranged some accommodations for you in the meantime.”

He clapped his hands together twice. “Trollieri,” he called in a sing-song voice. Once the beckoned troll arrived, Trollzart ordered, “Please escort Poppy and Branch to the nearest inn.”

“Of course, my liege,” Trollieri replied sarcastically. “I get no respect around here.”

… Poppy adjusted the pillow on her bed at least four times before getting it into an acceptable position (the way it had been before she started). “Good night, Branch,” she said as she closed her eyes. She opened them again cautiously when she got no response.

Branch was sitting on the edge of his bed, staring out the window at the clear night sky. Poppy could tell even though he seemed calm, he was out of his mind with worry.

“I don’t think I’ll be sleeping tonight, Poppy,” he said. He just couldn’t help feeling that something was going to happen, and he wouldn’t be there to stop it. “ I haven’t been this worried about her since she was five.”

Poppy sighed; that may not have been entirely true, but she understood what he was talking about. That had been the first and only time Sunshine had ever gotten sick, and even though it had been just a run-of-the-mill flu, Branch had refused to leave her side until she was better.

“Don’t worry, Branch,” Poppy said, wrapping an arm around his shoulders, “Sunny made it through that just fine, and she’ll do it again.”

“How can you be so sure, Poppy?”

“Well,” she replied, taking his hand in hers, “I’m not. But I trust her. You taught her everything she knows about surviving, and she’s got a good head on her shoulders. Everything will work out in the end, Branch.” She kissed him on the cheek and returned to her bed. “See you in the morning.”

...

The Snack Pack’s search had been just as unlucky as everyone else’s, if not worse. They had no means of navigation and hadn’t come across a single troll before night had fallen. Biggie had tried in vain to ask a giant spider for help, but that just ended in the group trying to keep the spider from eating Mr. Dinkles.

They were now all gathered around a campfire; Smidge was roasting a marshmallow with her hair, Satin and Chenille were playing Rock, Paper, Scissors, and Tiny was doing his best to keep from breaking down in front of his dad. He couldn’t help but wonder if he was partially responsible for Sunny’s disappearance. The incident with the crossword puzzle hadn’t been the first time she’d called him annoying.

“Aww, I miss her, too, Mr. Dinkles,” Biggie said in response to the worm’s sad “mew,” “What do you think she’s up to right now?”

“Probably thinking I’m annoying,” Tiny blurted out.

Guy Diamond gasped. “Where did this come from, Tiny,” he asked, “You might get on Sunshine’s nerves from time to time, but you’re still her best friend.”

Tiny looked up at the night sky, unsure whether to believe him.

…

Meanwhile, Sunshine was struggling to find comfort in the outdoors herself; she had made no progress in her search for her family. The last place she searched before the sun went down was Volcano Rock City, and part of her was glad she hadn’t found her parents there. The Hard Rock life seemed much too overwhelming.

Despite her exhaustion, Sunny couldn’t get to sleep on the cold, hard ground she lay on. “Come on, ground,” she muttered, tossing, turning and punching the ground, “Get comfortable!” Finally, she gave up, and resigned to leaning up against a tree nearby.

“Geez, Branch makes it look so easy,” she mused out loud, remembering the little camping trips Branch had taken her on every summer. Then again, she had brought a sleeping bag with her then. She tried to fight off her homesickness by reminding herself that she was doing this for her mother. Gazing up at the sky, her focus was brought to a single star twinkling in the night.

One little star

All alone in the sky

Do you ever get lonely

As the twilight drifts by

Branch had his eyes set on the same star, hoping it was a sign that Sunny was okay wherever she was.

One little star

In the darkening blue

Do you long for another

Just the way that I do

Satin, Chenille, Biggie, Smidge, Guy Diamond and Tiny were admiring the star as well.

(Satin) Sky begins to fill

(Chenille) Darkness ends the day

(Tiny) Someone that I love is far away

Guy Diamond hugged his son close.

Biggie joined in next, Mr. Dinkles whistling in harmony.

One little star

Shining far in the night

While Smidge did not exactly have the most fitting voice for this song, she could at least carry a tune.

Do you shine on our someone

Are we sharing your light

Guy Diamond finished it off, Tiny shedding a tear.

Oh, one little star

Shine on us all tonight

“I wish I had said goodbye before I left,” Sunshine thought. “I wonder if they miss me as much as I miss them.”

She momentarily lit up as she wondered, “Maybe I can talk my family into moving to TrollsTopia with me. That way I don’t have to say goodbye.” She sighed sadly as she looked back at the star. “That is, if I can find my way back.”

One little star (One little star)

Shining far in the night (Shine through the night)

Do you shine on my someone

Are we sharing your light (Share your light)

Oh, one little star

Shine on us all

Tonight

“Good night, Sunny,” Branch whispered to the star, “Wherever you are, please, please be safe.”

…

The song that I used in this chapter is “One Little Star” from Follow that Bird.

[vincentpeltzer5]

In The Field

Cars pass. Cars never stop. It stays alone. Buzzing of bees fills the field, a single tree sits upon its body. A vast sea of emeralds that held gleams of ruby upon its branches. The leaves never fall, the apples forever unpicked. Splashes of yellow grow upon its body. It feels too lonely. It wants someone to stay. It knows what to do. Pushing fuzzy balls into the air, cars start to slow until one day a deep blue car stops. Out comes a dog, running into the field. The beast's jaws clasp around the Daffodil. It has the poor thing in its grasp. Next were two children. A child of a God and a child of a Demon. Golden hair contrasting with the sleep brunette. Tan skin compared to the ghostly pale. Yet, it beckons them over, watching as the two children run through its flowers before picking two petals off a single daffodil. Into their mouth it goes and before it knows it, the children are running back through the fields, never slowing down. Never getting tired. Never getting old. Finally, a man comes strutting out the car, stepping upon the dead flowers, trying to follow the children before becoming tired. He sits underneath the tree. 

Plop. 

A single ruby red apple falls upon his laps. Perfectly standing up. The man stares at fruit and it pushes him to eat. Ghosting over his earlobe. Its lips press to the bottom of his ear, its hand grasping his. Wrapping the thing around the fruit before pulling it up right to his lips. 

“Try it.” It whispers. His teeth dig into the body of the fruit, its sweet liquid slips into his mouth and fills his mouth with its sweet essence. It has him. It moves away as he sits back, head lolling up and the apple rolling from his hand. Down, down the hill until it hits a daffodil. Roots slither out, twisting around the ruby red fruit. Pulling it back into its body. The car starts to become an eyesore and it makes sure the metal machine won’t be there anymore. Dragging the thing into its body and allowing vines to crush and twist. Screeches and bangs from the car hurt its ears but it kept doing until the car was deep under. 

It watches. Sweet honey fills the air and the tiny fairies dance in the air. Another car passes until it comes to a screeching halt. The smell lures another human. Yet, this is a woman, golden hair like the sun. She comes out, staring upon it. 

“Paul! Paul! Boys! Come here!” Yet, the people don’t listen. The children keep playing… Like they have for days. The man keeps sleeping. His snores are loud enough for the flowers to giggle at the silliness of humans. Humans are… Fascinating. The woman makes her way down into the field. Passing the flowers. Passing the buzzing bees. Passing the sweet smell of honey and right up the tiny hill. It watches as she kneels down, starting to shake the sleeping man, yet he doesn’t wake up. It decides to sing to the woman. Its voice filtering into a high pitch. Convincing the woman to stop her feeble attempts and to the lakeside. She comes closer and closer until she meets her reflection in the water. It takes a hold of her hand, pulling her in. The woman should relax and swim. That’s what she does, her head sinking below the salty surface and filling her lungs. It only takes seconds before her head comes up and she starts to swim. It lets go. 

Another car sinks below its surface. Soon enough, it beckons a bus filled with tiny humans, a long line of black cars filled to the brim with strange humans in black, a funny yellow and blue car with funny people in yellow and black, a truck of cute animals and a small white bus of frail humans. It watches the field of humans and enjoys the feeling of fulfilment. 

It feels complete. 

Yet… Even in paradise. Nothing ever stays. Soon enough, the first dog drops. Its body blooms an assortment of flowers. Then the two children collapse. Their bodies melt into a puddle of petals that swirl in the night air. The man that lays upon the tree sinks into the bark until his body becomes wooden. Stiff and no more life. The woman in the water becomes transparent and soon… It could not see her graceful moves any more. It loses everything within a couple of days and it becomes once again lonely. Too alone. Cars pass. Cars never stop. 

Until a crimson car pulls upon the edge of its body. A dog comes barrelling out the back door. It sniffs a daffodil. 

[transanimegirl]

Chapter 1 of Nuclear Wasteland Precure

I stand atop a tree just outside a raider camp. Beside me, Marie is sitting down on a branch, looking through some binoculars at the swarm of raiders down below.

“How’s it looking?” I ask.

“Bad?”

“How bad?”

“We’re outnumbered like 50-to-1?”

“Oh, that isn’t too bad.”

“Are you kidding me? How are two young girls supposed to take on what is practically an army?”

“Might I remind you,” I say, holding up a finger to point to our special ally, “that we’re not just two regular girls?”

“Woah, woah,” Vault the Roach fairy says, hovering in the tree beside us. “I sure hope you’re not implying that I’ll fight too!”

I bat the stupid roach away. “No! We’re Precure!”

“Ahh! Watch it!” Vault complains as he flies out of my reach.

“Yuri, let’s be serious here,” Marie says, looking me in the eyes, and then speaking slowly as if I were an idiot. “There are two of us, and 100 of them. Let’s go back and get reinforcements--”

“Reinforcements? From who? The poor villagers who got looted by these raiders? They have no way to help us! They have no food, no weapons! We’re their only hope!”

“She’s right!” Vault says smugly. “You’re Precure! That means that you must help those in need!”

“I never signed up for this!” Marie complains.

“Tough luck!” I tell her. “The fact of the matter is that this is a terrible world, and that a lot of people out there are dying! We have the power to help, though! Will you help me take these supplies back, or will you turn your back on me?”

“I...” Marie almost seems as if she’s ready to cry.

“Woah, woah,” I say, patting her on the head. “No need to cry. Look, I won’t force you to fight, alright? I’ll get rid of all these raiders all by myself, no problem!”

“Huge problem! You can’t take a whole camp out all by yourself!”

“Who can stop me?”

Marie stands up. “Nobody can. But I can’t let my only friend go out and fight by herself, can I?”

I smile at her. “Marie...”

She offers me her hand.

“Shall we get started?”

I nod my head, and take her hand.

"Alright~! Let's have a blast!" I shout, standing up hand in hand with Marie.

As I shout my catchphrase, light envelops the pair of us. My leather pants and jacket disappear into light, and one by one, the pieces of my magical girl outfit appear. A yellow dress with black lines appears, with a longer transparent skirt with bows appearing over it. Poofy white sleeves and black bracelets follow soon after, along with some yellow shoes and white knee high socks with black frills. A yellow bow appears on the back of my neck, and a black one appears in my hair as my hair grows out from my short brown pixie cut to long, yellow, wispy hair with a golden crown.

For Marie, her denim shorts and tank top disappear into light as well, and her outfit slowly appears on her body. A black dress with a green collar area appears, with lots of frills on the right side of her skirt. The frills fade from black at the top to green at the bottom. The left side of her skirt is just one green piece that stops below her knees, around the same area as her right side. She has transparent black flowy sleeves that go down to her elbows. Below that, she has a pair of golden bracelets. Her socks are similar to mine, but they’re black with green frills. Her shoes are green, with green and black frills by her ankles, and a gem on each shoe. She has a golden bow on her waist, a golden gem on her chest, and a green bow around the back of her neck. Her hair is mostly black in a fancy ponytail, with green accents and a green scrunchy holding it back.

"Prepare to get blown away by Cure Atom!" I shout, striking a pose.

"Prepare to be cleansed by Cure Rad!" Cure Rad shouts, striking a similar pose.

We jump down from the tree over the walls of the raider camp below. As we land on the ground, the raiders all freeze in shock for a moment, but only for a moment. Soon after, threats echo out through the compound, threats that I promise would shock the poor grandmothers of these raiders.

Some raiders race towards us, machetes and baseball bats in hands. Others head for defensive positions to shoot at us from afar. I throw bombs at the nearby raiders to keep them away from us. Meanwhile, Vault flies through the air, blocking the incoming bullets with shields. He may act like a coward, but the fact of the matter is that he is a vital member of our team. He may not have any offensive abilities, but his defensive abilities are invaluable.

While Vault and I keep the enemies at bay, Cure Rad steps forwards, her hands clasped together as if in prayer. Light shines from her, as we watch the trees around the camp grow their leaves back as the radiation is stripped away from the trees. The raiders watch in confusion as the radiation is cleared from the land.

This is Cure Rad’s ability. She can cleanse the radiation from the land... and then store that radiation for her own devious purposes. This soon becomes clear, as the nearest raiders start glowing green. They jump in surprise, stepping backwards and looking at one another.

An arm grows out of the stomach of one nearby raider, which then starts slapping the enemy raider in the face! His allies nearby move in to help him, chopping the arm off. Of course, that arm was attached to him, and he now has a gaping hole in his abdomen. That would be a problem, if not for the fact that he won’t be around much longer.

I hold a large round bomb over my head, and call for the enemies’ attention

“Hey! Losers!” I shout. 

The raiders turn their attention back to me, and I throw the bomb at them. It lands right between them, and explodes, leaving the forces there scattered.

Cure Rad and I split up, and run straight towards the dumbfounded enemies. They never could have imagined that a pair of girls could break into their base and cause such chaos. They certainly didn’t expect our strange magical abilities. Unfortunately for them, we’ve also got some serious physical strength, as is evident when I jump over a group of close ranged enemies to land atop a makeshift wooden tower, and wrench the rifle out of the sniper’s hands. I then smack him over the head with the rifle, knocking him out. The weapon, now bent nearly into the shape of a boomerang, is useless to me, but the shape gives me an idea. I throw it like a boomerang at a group of melee enemies that are trying to run up to me, and though my accuracy is less than perfect with such a weird weapon, I do hit one lady in the knee, and she falls to the ground.

On the other side of the camp, Cure Rad is holding the wrists of a rather large raider, who had retrieved a missile launcher. The missile launcher is now lying on the ground, and as Cure Rad continues to hold onto the wrists of the giant raider, his skin is turning green and wrinkly. It spreads from his wrists, up his arms, and through the rest of his body. He resembles a ghoul, to an extent, but with how much radiation Cure Rad is pumping into his body, it quickly becomes too much for him, and the man’s body slumps, unconscious.

I take a look at a strand of my hair. There’s some white at the end of it, which is quickly climbing up my hair. I share a look with Cure Rad, who seems somewhat annoyed.

“I’m sorry!” I mouth to her.

My powers can only last so long. Like uranium, I’m quickly depleted as I use my magic, and if my hair turns entirely white, I’ll be out of power completely. Cure Rad has a similar issue, in that she has to store away radiation to use it against her enemies. Both of us are running on a timer.

We jump back near the front of the base, and hold hands.

“Scourge of the heavens!” I shout out. “You have been a foul stain on this world for far too long!”

“Prepare to be purified by the light!” Cure Rad finishes the phrase of our team attack.

We hold our hands up to the sky, and together, scream the name of the attack. “Heart... Nuke... Blast!”

A giant nuke forms in the air, pink with different colored hearts and smiley faces drawn on it. The nuke drops down on the raider camp, and everyone screams as the evil is purified from their hearts.

All of the raiders around the camp are slumped in various uncomfortable positions.

“Are they dead?” I ask.

“Of course not!” Vault says, buzzing around in the air nearby. “Your powers as Precure cannot kill anyone! They’re fine!”

“... Are you sure?” Cure Rad asks, poking at the man who she turned into a ghoul earlier.

“I’m certain! I mean, you could bludgeon them to death with their own weapons, I guess, but you just barely avoided that, so good job! They’ll be fine in a few hours!”

“And then they’ll be free to continue raiding?” I ask.

“No, no! You cleansed the evil from their souls!”

“Uh. So, what? They’re gonna be upstanding citizens now?”

“Not strictly, but they should stop raiding. Maybe they’ll make an honest farming community! Or maybe they’ll just scatter!”

We stare around at the raiders. Some of them are twitching, while others are making pained noises. I almost feel bad. But the only other outcome here would be death -- either ours or theirs -- so I don’t feel bad about it for too long.

“Alright, let’s go gather those supplies that they stole,” I say.

Marie and I return to our civilian forms, and spend the next couple of hours gathering supplies from the camp. Most of these were stolen from a nearby town. The town is going to need these, though, as a hurricane is coming in about 14 days or so. Hurricane Hannah. If we hadn’t retrieved these supplies, they would be without clean water, food, wood, and other supplies to help protect themselves from the hurricane, survive as it hits them, and then rebuild.

The hurricane is coming straight this way, and this town isn’t the only one that needs help. Marie and I have been bouncing around different towns the past few days, helping out where we can. This was a particularly dangerous assignment, but one that we were willing to take. We’ll do anything if it can save some lives.

We gather the supplies up in boxes and carts, and then transform into our Precure forms once more. In this form, we’re able to carry the entire stack of carts and boxes, not necessarily with ease, but we’re able to return these supplies in just a single trip with the two of us. The townsfolk seem pleased.

“We can’t thank you enough for this!” the mayor tells us, shaking our hands. All around us, people are watching and cheering. “Please, do stay at least for the night!”

Cure Rad shakes her head. “No. We’ve got other towns to help. There’s only two weeks until that hurricane comes, and it looks like it’s gonna be a tough one. We recommend that you all leave, but I understand that something like that isn’t always practical.”

Leaving towns when there are raiders and monsters out there is dangerous. Caravans take mercenaries with them for protection, and even then are often attacked and killed. We’ve helped a few towns evacuate that were closer to where the hurricane is expected to make landfall. Basically all of Florida is in danger, though. And even if they can flee, other towns aren’t always eager or able to help them until they can return home. In short: most people are just stuck.

We stay in town for another 30 minutes or so, receiving thanks from the locals, and making sure that we talk to anyone who wants to talk. We make sure especially to speak to the kids, who need more hope than anyone. By the time we leave, my hair is basically pure white, and though I smile at the villagers as I leave, I’m feeling a lot of pain throughout my entire body.

Several miles outside of the town, I collapse, and Marie brings me some water. I’ll be fine, of course, but I’m exhausted. We can’t let people know who we really are, so when doing work like this, I have to be in my cure form. It’s exhausting.

“You did well, Yuri,” Marie says.

“Yeah, yeah,” I mutter. “Just let me sleep for a bit.”

She pats me on the head, and then leaves me alone to sleep. Of course, we’re using a broken down house on the side of the road as a temporary rest spot, so it isn’t safe to leave me totally alone. She stays nearby, keeping an eye on things. I rest through the rest of the evening, and through the night. In the morning, we set off once more.

[miracleweaponhunt]

Miracle Weapon Hunt Chapter 6: Night Terrors

The Torthai was massive. Roxanne looked up towards the tree in front of her, and it was wood all the way upwards, with thick green casting shade on almost the surrounding mile of area. And between the greens were small specks of coloured orbs above them.

“Welcome to the Torthai!” Dermot yelled. “Anyway, this is probably where’ll you be staying while you’re here.”

“By the tree?” Julian asked.

“In the tree!” Dermot replied confidently. “Walk with me, please.”

Julian groaned when he heard about more walking. The four of them walked around the tree, which felt like forever with its size.

“So what’s the deal with this tree, anyway?” Roxanne asked, touching it’s roots. Her experience with trees was limited, only really being familiar with the small potted ones around the miracle scouting group. But she had read up on the bigger trees around Saoloro, and this one just made no sense in comparison. The trunk would randomly have slashing shades of brown against each other. When she ran her hand through it, there was a completely different texture every few seconds.

“Oh, you mean with the tree? Basically, the whole thing is just a giant project to see if we could make the ultimate fruit tree by grafting all the fruits we could into the tree. I think there was a merging wielder around when it happened to speed up the process too, but the end result was a tree which can grow almost any fruit you want it to. And as our next experiment is gonna test, if three people can live in it!”

“Excuse me?” Julian asked.

“Look, we’ve had our own little sky society for around two hundred years. Housing ships are good and all, but the resources to build them won’t last forever even with wielders working with us. So the answer isn’t expansion, but rather integration! Which is why I brought you here!”

“Okay, but why do we have to do it? Can’t you get more willing test subjects?” Julian asked again.

“And am I meant to pay them? With what, exactly? Luckily, we do accept fruit-based beverages as currency, so you’re getting in the treehouse.”

Dermot stepped on a low platform, looking at the trio with such intensity that they felt a need to get on. Once they were, Dermot turned a lever, and the four of them shot into the sky like a speeding bullet. Once they were over and the platform stopped, Cassandra was clutching her head in one hand. Roxanne was trying not to puke. Julian was clutching to the wooden railings of the platform for dear life.

“So I have to adjust the speed you go up?” Dermot asked. Cassandra nodded wearily.

“Got it.” Dermot sighed. “Well, if you walk through the thick branches to the north, you should find the house. Anyway, your bodyguards should be here in the morning, so I’ll grab you then.”

“Wait, did you say-?” Julian asked, but Dermot already shot down before he could hear anything. Julian looked behind him, and the girls were already on their way to the house.

“Is this all?” Cassandra asked. The treehouse was a small wooden cube, with a small square cut in the end in an attempt to create a window. And inside the cube was nothing but two small mattresses and thin blankets over them.

“Any idea what the weathers gonna be like?” Julian asked.

“Probably fine if we’re expected to stay a whole night here.” Cassandra answered. “Besides, you can just cuddle up to me if it ever gets too cold, kay?” She continued, playfully rubbing Julian’s chest.

Roxanne looked on as Julian jokingly pretended not to be into it. She was hoping to spend the night looking for love, but Dermot had to push that out of the way thanks to Cassandra’s stupid slushy habits. So she looked around the room for something to distract her.

“Anyway, I’m assuming that’s a berry outside the window.” She whispered to herself, grabbing the big pink orb from outside the window. It was a solid circle, with spines on the sides but not the top or bottom.

“Hey, is that an Akid?” Julian asked. “Wanna open it up?”

“Yeah, sure.” Roxanne replied. “Just let me…”

She tried slowly ripping the spines off to see what would happen, only for the pink centre to slowly drop and spill onto the floor.

“Yeah…you kinda have to pull the whole thing out in one motion before it…spills.” Julian sighed with a weary chuckle. “Whatever, I guess we’ll just have to sleep off the hunger.”

“The sun hasn’t even set yet.” Cassandra said.

“Any time is sleep time if you’re brave enough. Night.”

Julian took his hat off and lay on the mattress, which was followed by a solid minute of shuffling to find a position that felt somewhat bearable. He finally found it, but only after looking like the aftermath of falling out of the treehouse. Roxanne and Cassandra stayed up a little longer, talking about anything that came to mind.

“So, you look at Dermot?” Cassandra asked.

“Not much.” Roxanne replied.

“Really. I don’t know, he’s kinda handsome. His hair is just so…dorky? But in a hot way, you feel me?”

“Kind of?”

“I don’t know, maybe think about asking him out. Couldn’t hurt.”

“Maybe I will, honestly.” Roxanne sighed. “Anyway, I think I’ll go to bed. Night.”

“Yeah, me too. Night.”

The same dream.

The dream came to Roxanne every once in a while. Sometimes more intense. Sometimes it felt more real. This seemed to be one of those nights. She was alone in an empty void of darkness. Nothing but black as far as the eye could see. The place felt intimidating, despite it being her hundredth time there at least.

And then the figure appeared.

Sometimes it was upfront and appeared before her, and sometimes it tried to sneak up. This night was one of the latter. But it was so illuminated that it was always obvious. She turned around to greet it. Under all that light was a female figure, but tonight was so bright it was just a solid chunk of light.

“You’re nothing.”

That was what this being beamed into Roxanne’s head whenever they met. The voice was too echoed to make out a tone or voice, but the words always stuck with her. She tried standing still, trying not to meet the conditions for the next stage, to see what happens next if she’s to just stick this out. But she felt her legs move on their own and try to attack the creature. The creature then fades from the dream, leaving her alone in the endless darkness.

Then the tendrils came.

They wrapped around her legs. She tried to stay standing this time, but more tendrils just appeared by her shoulders and dragged her into the ground. The tendrils covered her mouth and eyes as she sank into the ground, and her only instinct left was to scream.

“Roxanne! Roxanne!”

When Roxanne gained consciousness, Cassandra was looking over her, her green eyes looking terrified.

“Are you okay?” She asked, moving her head. “You breathing fine?”

Roxanne coughed. Nothing built up in her throat while she slept tonight. Which was good, as sometimes Cassandra had tilt her head to let all the saliva out.

“So these are the night terrors?” Julian asked.

“Yeah.” Cassandra sighed. “This is one of the less harrowing ones.”

“Yeah, I saw the worst of it.”

“So what’s her deal, anyway?” Cassandra asked, still holding Roxanne’s face.

“I inspected her, and she doesn’t have many physical issues. I’m guessing it’s a mental issue of some kind.”

“And you can’t sort that out?” Roxanne asked.

“I’m a doctor, not a psychologist. Although if you want, we could definitely hit up Sangaria if you wanna get a proper diagnosis.”

“Are the guys there hot?” Roxanne asked.

“It’s a bunch of pale dudes in tight clothes and medical supplies. So yes.” Julian nodded.

“Awesome.”

“Anyway, does anybody know when we’re getting out of the tree?” Cassandra asked. “She’s losing love time.”

“Yeah, I am losing love time!” Roxanne yelled, freeing herself from Cassandra’s hands. “What time is it, anyway?”

“It’s about six.” Julian replied, checking his watch. “If I remember correctly, they usually wake up at around seven here, so it’ll be a while before Dermot gets back.”

Roxanne went back to bed, being woken up when Cassandra shook her awake. Dermot was standing over her, ready to go back to the ground.

“So, how was the treehouse?” He asked when they were out of the tree.

“Pretty good.” Julian replied. “It’s night terror proof, anyway.”

“Julian!” Cassandra yelled.

“I mean…we weren’t testing for that, but I’ll make a note of it.” Dermot shrugged.

“But anyway.” Roxanne asked. “What are you doing later?”

“Looking after you lot?” Dermot responded, looking confused.

“Awesome.” Roxanne nodded.

“But anyway, I was told that I need to hold off any discussions until your bodyguards get here.” Dermot replied.

“We need bodyguards?” Cassandra asked. “We did fight off a guy with a relic weapon on our own.”

“Look, it’s what the Lux lads want.” Dermot sighed. “And it’ll be a while till they get there, so feel free to get breakfast somewhere else.

“And we can go anywhere?” Roxanne asked.

“Basically.” Dermot shrugged. “You aren’t allowed to leave, but we have guys guarding your ship anyway.”

“Well, where are you eating breakfast?” Roxanne asked, placing a hand under to chin in an attempt to seductively present herself.

“Probably the lab.” Dermot sighed. “I’m too broke for anything else.”

“Well, if it’s good enough for you, it’s good enough for me.” Roxanne said, adjusting her voice in an attempt to sound dreamier as she stared into his eyes.

“We can get breakfast somewhere else.” Cassandra said calmly.

“Yeah. Besides, I need to stock up on insects.” Julian said.

“So we’ll leave you two alone for a while.” Cassandra said. “Don’t have too much fun without us!”

[theladyofbloodshed]

A Court of Tangled Flames - Chapter 6

After the previous day’s deluge of rain, they were greeted with a gloriously warm day. Eris had caught Nesta tipping her face towards the sun in the garden as the chickens pecked about her feet so had invited her for a day of fun.

‘Don’t you have a lot of work to do?’

‘My court won’t fall apart without me for a few hours. Orla sent word that she’ll return tomorrow – so I’m afraid you’re stuck with me. I thought maybe I could show you a little more of my court.’

That was not the worst prospect in the world, but Nesta couldn’t admit that to him. She reminded herself that Eris was an ally to the Night Court but also an enemy. A male who’d abandoned Morrigan in the woods. Yet a small voice said that Eris hadn’t actually hurt Mor. Mor had been the one to snap at her at every occasion – so why did she care what had happened between the female and Eris, especially when he had been nothing but hospitable to her? Maybe one day, she’d question the male on it.  

Eris led the way through a forest, seemingly finding a path for them over ferns and spongy moss because he was made from the wild winds and the earth itself. Birds sang from the branches, undisturbed by their walking or the dogs loping through the woods, tracking any smells of interest. The forest smelt damp from the rain, a musty scent.

She had never ever considered herself a nature lover – that was more Elain’s thing. Forests in the mortal lands were filled with danger. More than that, she was never dressed for them. Eris had ensured she had a sturdy pair of boots that did not allow any water in. Her skirts hung a few inches above the ground and it was warm enough to not need a coat. Even Nesta could admit that the forest was beautiful. The sun filtered through the branches, showering the fallen leaves with buttery light. The forest seemed to have a heart. It breathed with them. The trees reached impossibly high and their golden canvas filled Nesta with a wonder that she hadn’t had since childhood.

‘How does the magic work? How is it always Autumn?’

It frustrated Nesta that she could not understand it. The Night Court followed the regular pattern of seasons. How could this exist in a perpetual Autumn? How could crops grow? How did people not grow tired of it?

‘I can almost hear your mind whirring, Nesta. Although it’s always autumn, we fluctuate between the beginning and the end of it. Some days are glorious like this, some are bitterly cold and wet. The way the magic works is still a mystery to me. I’d be glad for assistance in understanding it.’

‘How do the trees not run out of leaves?’

His hands rested on her hips as Eris lifted her over a fallen trunk in an ease that had settled in quickly between them. It was odd. Similar to Cassian, Eris did not pause to check if she kept up – but it was because he remained walking beside her, her arm linked with his. The pace was gentle, not a hurried march. He always stopped to pull back a branch so she could pass easier or stamped down on nettles for her.

Nesta sensed he had as much enjoyment to be out in the fresh air as she did. She could appreciate the world more when she wasn’t forced to trudge behind somebody trying to keep herself from falling.

The gargle of a river sounded in the distance so they pushed forwards to seek it out.

It fell over boulders slick with algae then frothed and continued on. A dragonfly skittered past her head then flew low over the water’s surface.  

‘It’s a nice day. Fancy a swim?’

‘In there?’

The river wasn’t particularly fast and Nesta could see the bottom. Her brows were tugging downwards. Never would she ever swim in a river as a mortal. It was a death sentence. She’d never warm up again. But Eris wasn’t joking. He had already slipped off his light jacket and sought a branch to hang it from.

‘You can swim?’

Nesta’s mother had been belligerent that all of her daughters must learn. ‘My mother swore that her cousin was drowned by a faerie. That’s not your plan, is it?’

‘Not today.’ Eris shucked off his boots first then his socks, tidying them into a neat pile and placing them on flat rock. 

‘You’re going in there? Seriously?’

‘It’s quite safe,’ Eris reassured her as he unlaced his breeches. ‘We are going for a swim. It will be good for you. The true Autumn Court experience.’

He turned his back to her to slip off his shirt and add that to his clothes. There were markings along his back. Thick rivets of purple or slim white lashings marred all of the skin. It was so rare for the fae to scar. Such wounds had to be serious. 

Nesta turned her face away and busied herself with the laces of her boot instead rather than stare although she wanted to know more about those wounds. 

She heard the sloshing of water as Eris entered the river. 

It was a lazy river so he waded in as deep as his stomach without the current tugging him away. Eris lacked the bulk of Cassian, but his body was lean and muscled still, the pale skin standing out starkly against the sun. Nesta didn’t know where to look. Her face felt hot all of a sudden. She glimpsed his trousers folded neatly and, for a second, wondered if he was completely naked in the water – then her face really did glow with heat.

‘Do not look,’ Nesta warned as she unlaced her stay. 

‘On my honour,’ he declared before throwing himself underwater. 

When Eris emerged, Nesta had removed most of her clothes but remained on the river bank in her white slip. Hurriedly, she covered her body with her hands. 

‘I said don’t look!’

‘Well, I thought you’d be in the water by now.’

Nesta dipped her toes in to the shallows. ‘It’s freezing, Eris.’

‘It’s not really. Once you get in, it’s divine. If you’re up for it, leap in from that ledge.’

Eris jerked his chin towards a steep ledge overhanging the river. He would need to follow the gorge upwards to the pool it landed in and Nesta would need to walk alongside the river to reach it. 

‘So, you can look up my dress?’

The male laughed richly. ‘Since you’ve suggested it, it would be rude not to.’

‘Do not,’ she warned again, pointing a finger at him.

It had to be sheer insanity that drove her to this: leaping into a river with Eris Vanserra lurking in it. She was still muttering to herself as she trod a path up river while Eris scrambled up the gorge with movement that suggested he had done it before. She did not dare to look and see if he was truly naked even if her traitorous eyes kept trying to flick towards him. Safera followed her along the path before leaping into the water after her master.

‘If you look up my dress, I will drown you.’

‘You’ll have to jump in to get me. Be brave, Nesta.’ Eris flopped back into the water, spreading out his arms to float.   

On the third attempt at jumping in where she skittered back from the rock, Eris made a raspberry sound. ‘Just jump. Stop being a chicken. It’s refreshing.’

With a final grasp of her courage, Nesta jumped into the river.

It was absolutely freezing.

Her teeth chattered when she broke the surface. ‘You lied!’

‘I’m a Vanserra! It’s what we do.’

Nesta was too cold to care when Eris hauled her through the water so she was flush against his body. His skin was too delightfully warm to care about propriety. Her teeth chattered in his ear as her arms weaved around his neck.

‘What part of this is enjoyable?’

Eris made a strangled sort of noise and seemed to struggled to keep his eyes on hers. ‘I can think of many reasons.’

Nesta glanced down. Her chemise had turned see-through in the water and clung to her skin where she pressed against Eris’ warm body. She pushed away from him in outrage.

‘You snake!’

The male’s laughter was ringing in her ears as she waded back towards the bank. She hissed over her shoulder for him not to look so the laughter stopped for a moment while his head dipped under the water. At least he’d given her that privacy.

Her teeth were still rattling painfully even as Eris winnowed out of the water and walked a few paces ahead of her. Thankfully, he was not completely naked, but he may well have been because the water had his undershorts clinging to his body. Her eyes went to the scars on his back again. Nesta could not be certain but due to the uniformity of them, they looked to be from a whip. She had not heard of Eris being captured in the war – and she knew he was not old enough to fight in the last one. The scars varied in age. This was a repeated punishment over years, decades, maybe longer. And it did not take much imagination to guess who might be responsible for it.

Eris held her clothes in his arms and gripped two of the dogs by their collar.

‘Slip my jacket on,’ he said, jerking his chin towards the branch.

Nesta did as she was told if only to keep her body covered then she felt Eris’ hand glide over her waist and they were winnowing back to Orla’s home. Fires burst to life in every hearth of the house.

‘I’d offer to warm you up, but I think you might kill me.’

‘I certainly would,’ Nesta grumbled, as she stomped towards the stairs, her body painfully cold.

Eris laughed loudly once more. ‘I cannot believe you trusted me enough to jump in.’

‘It will not happen again.’

***

Only five of them remained at training. The other three priestesses who still came were jittery, still inquiring after Nesta in her extended absence. Gwyn and Emerie followed suit too, not wanting to cast any suspicion upon themselves. Rumours swirled that her illness must be serious if a healer had not cured it in all this time.

The number dwindled each day that Nesta was gone. Soon, it would only be her and Gwyn coming to the roof. At their heart, they weren’t fighters – Emerie enjoyed the social aspect more – but soon it wouldn’t be worth somebody coming to Illyria to collect her.

They had not seen Cassian once since Nesta had disappeared. Even Azriel had been intermittent at their training sessions with them falling to Morrigan to instruct instead in recent days. She made the other females more comfortable than being alone with a male, at least, but the atmosphere without Nesta was tense. They’d overheard her complaining to Azriel that she couldn’t understand why the priestesses had stopped coming before he winnowed Emerie back to Illyria.

In a lull that day, Gwyn had managed to ask if Emerie had heard from Nesta since her first letter – but no others had come. Emerie had taken to sitting in her bedroom window and watching the streets after the sun had gone down with a delicate hope flickering that another letter might come. She just wanted to know if her friend was well. Nesta hid things too well. They didn’t know that she had been trapped in the House of Wind or forced to change herself. Unspeakable things could be happening to her. Then again, they had already happened to her in the Night Court.

It was becoming harder and harder for them to speak. With such low numbers at training, there was little noise. Shadows always remained in the training ring too. They spooked Emerie though Gwyn wasn’t particularly bothered by them. They tended to enjoy swirling around the priestess’ feet, but Emerie was certain they were listening in on their conversations.

‘You should visit Illyria one day,’ Emerie said casually. It might be the only way they could talk without a shadowsinger eavesdropping on them.

Gwyn did not seem thrilled by the idea of leaving the library, but before she could say no, Emerie continued on. ‘Remember the miniature Pegasus? We could have another sleepover like that.’  

***

Seeking redemption so early into their friendship was likely an ill-omen, but Eris feared he had pushed Nesta too far. Still, it had been good to see her temper lash out at him rather than her fire extinguishing into nothing. He prepared a hot lunch and drinks for them – and had been just about to deliver it to her bedroom when she emerged. Her golden hair was loose and damp, falling as far as her waist. Nesta had selected a soft, velvet dress the colour of dusk that had his breath catching in his throat.

‘I don’t think I will ever be warm again,’ she snapped.

Nesta moved past him, the scowl on her face so dramatic that he had to bite his knuckle before he laughed at it. She went to her knees as close as she could to the fire without setting herself aflame. Safera brushed against her then Yenor greeted her. Faintly, Eris could hear Nesta muttering insults about him to the dogs as she fussed them. He believed he heard the words pompous, arrogant prick.

‘I’ve made soup as an apology.’

‘Have you poisoned it?’

‘Oh, no. Poison is a female’s weapon. When I commit murder, I prefer it to be far bloodier.’

She shot him an incredulous look from her post by the fireplace. ‘I am beginning to understand why you are not well liked in Prythian.’

The more she insulted him, the more Eris enjoyed it. Nobody would dare such a thing in the Autumn Court – even Orla had needed a good three centuries before she could insult him without fearing her execution. Either Nesta did not care for his reputation or the need to insult him overrode that fear.

They ate with trays on their laps with Nesta occasionally shooting him a glare as she dipped a crust of bread into her soup.

‘Your cooking is fine.’

Eris covered his heart with his hand. ‘A compliment I will always think of fondly.’

‘Where is Maceo?’

‘It’s Sunday. A day of worship and rest.’

‘Rest? I almost died of shock in that water.’ Nesta settled her tray onto the table then reached for a blanket to draw around her shoulders as if she was still chilled to the bone from their dip in the river.  

‘I wouldn’t let you die. I enjoy your company too much.’

Nesta’s jaw tensed. ‘There is nothing enjoyable about my company, Eris. You will learn it soon enough.’

How much of these words were her own thoughts and how much was the parroted words of others. Five centuries of crossing paths with the Night Court meant Eris knew exactly how cruel and manipulative they could be.

‘What is so undesirable about you?’

It was a stone that Eris had to turn over. Even as Nesta’s face drew sullener, Eris knew he had to pursue this. He’d heard similar lines from his mother that she was a bad wife or a bad parent. Repeated enough times, lies become truth. He did not want the same for Nesta.

Nesta spoke again of her perceived failings as a child who did not go into the woods. She would not hear his rebuttals that she was only a child herself, one who did not know how to hunt, and one who would likely die if she had gone. Eris almost wished her father was still alive to hold him accountable for his negligence of his daughters. That lack of care had resulted in the discord that settled between the sisters.

She spoke of how she had failed her sisters. Failed to stop the fall of the Wall. Failed a father who died in front of her. Failed her family by slipping into drinking and sleeping with strangers to cope. Failed Feyre again by telling her the truth of her pregnancy.

‘Feyre seems desperate to be loved.’

‘Elain was my father’s favourite. Feyre was ignored by both of our parents.’

‘And you were your mother’s darling?’

Nesta’s hands stilled on Safera’s fur. ‘I was her project. A daughter who brought a duke to his knees at fourteen years old. I should have married for wealth to elevate our family further and instead, I became this.’

‘What was your mother like?’

‘A worse version of me.’

Eris knew exactly the sort of female that the matriarch of the Archeron was. He had experienced enough mothers who manoeuvred their daughters into social situations to talk to him, to force him into requesting a dance. His brothers were stupid enough to engage in the folly – and cruel enough not to care when hearts were easily broken or reputations ruined. If Nesta truly was her mother’s daughter, she’d have already tried to engage Eris into a relationship to seek his status. And definitely she would not have chosen a bastard born Illyrian to lie with.

‘I see a female who was willing to do anything to save her people. A female who had the courage to make seven high lords listen to her. Nesta, you were willing to sacrifice yourself for a nation that you did not know. You are a good person.’ Nesta turned away at his words, blinking rapidly as she resumed her stroking of the dog. ‘You were wasted in the Night Court.’

Over the patter of rain, Eris heard a small sob.

In an instant, he was there, arms weaving around Nesta. At first, she resisted his touch then she broke. All the parts of her that had been clinging on finally shattered. Through her tears, Nesta said that she did not want her sister to die. It was a fear she carried daily. Feyre Archeron was staring into an abyss that encroached closer every day.

‘I can’t go back there. I can’t. I already feel better here.’

Eris stroked the back of her head. ‘You are safe with me. I won’t let them take you. When Orla returns, I’ll figure out a plan that protects you and saves your sister.’

‘Why are you helping me?’

He could have lied. He should have. Should have said that she was valuable and nothing more. That Nesta Archeron was connected to the Cauldron and Eris knew there was a bottomless depth to her powers. Powers that were capable of tracking the Dread Trove and wielding them. He helped her only for his own benefit.

He could have said that he hated the Night Court so relished any opportunity to punish them. Stealing Nesta away from Cassian would be a delightful sort of justice. It was all lies. It didn’t matter that Nesta had tangled herself with him. He ought to have found it repulsive, but Eris found that he did not care what males had touched her.

Eris could not lie to Nesta.

Against everything he stood for, Eris told Nesta the truth. ‘When I saw you, you reminded me of my mother. I couldn’t bear to see another female be broken until she fitted the shape somebody else wanted.’

Soft eyes blinked at him. ‘I remember your mother from the Dawn Court. You protected her from Feyre’s fire.’

‘I’ve watched my mother recede more each year and soon I will no longer be able to reach her.’ There were only so many times that Eris could coax his mother to take a walk or to see the dogs. It took all of her energy to leave the confines of her bedroom some days, a prisoner of her own accord. ‘I want you to be happy here. How can I ensure your happiness?’

The sun had been banished with rain seizing dominance over the sky. It was a cosy afternoon, wrapped up in blankets beside each other, Nesta becoming braver with her words and requests. She wanted her friends to visit somehow. Eris did not know how he would achieve it, but promised he would do all he could to make it happen. Emerie, the Illyrian, would be easier. The priestess was cloistered away in their secret city that Eris had no access to. Somehow, he’d need Gwyneth to travel to Illyria so he could take both females from there. It was a minefield, but Eris would manage it.

More than seeing her friends, Nesta still held firm that Feyre’s life was a priority, despite what had occurred between the sisters. It worried Nesta in moments of silence; her brow would pinch as she pondered ways to introduce Orla to Feyre without revealing her own position in the court. More than that, she even expressed a worry over him – of what might happen to Eris if he was found to be harbouring her. His heart had thumped painfully loud at that. Only his mother worried for his safety.  

‘I’m grateful to Orla, but I would like to have my own residence. I have no money, but I’m willing to work. If you could find somewhere for me, I will work hard. I don’t need anywhere large. I value my own space.’

Money wasn’t an issue. Eris had enough. He amassed more each year with investments in the surrounding courts. If it would convince Nesta to stay then he’d buy her a damn palace. Despite better judgement, Eris was desperate for Nesta to call the Autumn Court home. He could hear Orla’s voice in his head, pealing as a warning bell to stop whatever feelings were filling up the cavern of his chest before they could take root.

‘I don’t want to be a burden.’

‘Stop.’ Eris counted to ten before he began again. His issue was not with Nesta, it was with the Night Court. ‘I am not keeping you here so you can be useful for me. I will not abandon you because you cannot offer me anything.’

Despite Eris’ best attempts at calming himself, wrath still charred inside of his veins. Nesta Archeron saved everybody’s lives in the war. It was because of this female that they weren’t on their knees serving Hybern. There ought to be a statue of her built in every damn court of Prythian. She should be sat in a palace surrounded by wealth for all of her sacrifices.

‘Is this how the Night Court works? They threaten a punishment if they cannot use you? Did they try the same tricks they did on your sister?’

‘What do you mean by that?’

‘What Rhys did to her Under the Mountain.’

Nesta gave him a wary look. ‘What happened Under the Mountain?’

That bastard had not told any of them what he’d done to Feyre. Night after night of drugging her. Eris had seen Feyre Archeron naked more than himself. That was why it had been such a surprise when she had remained in the Night Court. Eris was certain Rhys had used his powers on her to spite Tamlin. The knowledge that they were mates was even worse. Nesta sat in muted horror as he explained what had been done to her sister over that prolonged period. Amarantha hadn’t cared much for the mortal, but Rhys hadn’t been able to help himself from parading her out each night.

‘It explains why he’s so wary of Lucien,’ Nesta mused. ‘He’s the only one who knows what Rhys did. I cannot believe my sister can love him after that – and the secrets over her pregnancy.’

‘The Night Court has no allies for a reason, Nesta.’

Eris sensed the churning of her power within. An ancient beast awaking from a slumber. ‘That bastard had the gall to hold it over my head at every occasion that I didn’t hunt for Feyre and Elain meanwhile he humiliated and abused her night after night.

He thought of the weapons she had Made, her power that could likely rival Rhys’ if given the chance. Eris knew exactly why the Night Court hadn’t wanted Nesta to train her power – because she’d topple their court.

‘I’d like you to train, Nesta. That’s my only stipulation. Not physically, but your power. If you train your magic with me, I’ll buy you a castle.’ He swept her hair from her face. ‘When you set this world on fire, I want to stand beside you.’

Taglist:

@kitkat-writes-stuff @owllover123 @rarephloxes @this-is-rochelle

[my2phetaliaheadcanons]

I was wondering if you could do the Allies for the one ask you done with the Axis in the “Death is much more merciful than being with you” scenario?

Sharp branches snapped and scratched against (Y/N)’s (S/C) skin leaving small crimson rivers with red, raised banks. The dried, yellowed, grass crunched under foot as she ran between the lifeless trees like a panicked doe.

His calls were growing closer and louder by the second.

Heart racing with prayers for escape thrumming along like a broken song in her mind, (Y/N)’s eyes danced around for a break in the dense, wasted foliage.

The rising sun teased safety by showing an exit as a lighthouse would to a sinking ship. An abrupt crack behind (Y/N) forced her to the unknown.

The clearing she had torn into felt like a cruel trapped set by the universe. It short, dead, grass didn’t go more than ten feet before suddenly ending. Below lied a deep gorge full of uneven stones, whose edges glinted like sharpened knives in the morning light.

(Y/N)’s heart continued its pounding, creating an ache against her bruised ribs, as she backed away. Shuffling back like a nervous horse, she hoped to disappear again into the cadaverous woods.

Except she couldn’t.

Her fearful (E/C) meet his angry glare.

Tears flowed like salty, crystal streams. She trembled as he stalked forward.

“It’s time to end this game (Y/N).”

“No,” (Y/N) shook her head and stumbled back, the cliff’s edge pushing into the middle of her soled foot., “I won’t go back to that hell.”

Gritting his teeth her tormentor reluctantly backed up. Watching her wobble on the blade’s edge.

He lowered his stance, offering his hand. Gently, the devil plead, “(Y/N), please. Let’s just go home-“

“HOME?!” (Y/N) shrieked as the stream of tears became a torrential flood.

“YOU’VE TAKEN EVEYRTHING!! MY SANITY, FAMILY, FRIENDS, THERE IS NOTHING LEFT OF ME!” Sobbing, (Y/N) proclaimed that the reaper would be a better lover than he ever could be as her arms crossed to hold herself in a comforting embrace.

Scoffing at her hysteria, the fiend again attempted to coerce her away from the edge. Logical and emotional appeals came from his lips like sinful desires.

A final sniffle came with the slowing of (Y/N)’s tears. She gazed behind her to see that the sun had barely risen above the bottom of the canyon.

Her voice now cold and hollow as she spoke a truth that she never wanted to admit.

“You’ll never let me go. Not in this life anyway.”

Empty-eyed, she smiled at her executioner and allowed gravity to take her.

France: Frozen François sat as his love fell backwards. The sickening, heavy crunch that followed felt like boiling water poured on icy skin. He raced forward and shuddered at the sight below him.

Sobs slowly bubbled up like the blood flowing many feet below him. Sinking to his knees, François brokenly cursed the heavens above.

America: Allen leapt forward, his gloved fingers brushing against the front of (Y/N)’s white shirt as she dropped.

“NO!” He screamed.

The wet splat and silence that came made the world power tremble. With unstable legs, Allen crawled to the edge and gazed on the gory sight underneath him.

Stifling a sob, he climbed down to his beloved doll. Pebbles scuttled and rolled like pill bugs as he approached his broken bride.

His dark boots were soaked in by her ruby pool, his jeans followed as he knelt beside her. Carefully cradling her damaged head, he cried into her stone chest. Begging for her to return.

Canada: “WAIT!” Exclaimed Matt as he dove.

Together they dropped down into the ravine. Both grunted as they collided with the solid ground before rolling before into the shadowed abyss.

His body slowly slide to a stop, scraping against the various stones along the rocky bottom. Matt groaned as he drunkenly sat up. The world spun as ventured to stand.

Forcing the tide of vomit back to his stomach, Matt’s violet eyes whipped around for (Y/N). Dizzily dancing as, he fought to maintain his balance, he saw her still form six feet up the ridge.

Her limp form was soul crushingly beautiful in the dawn’s glow. The blood slowly dripping from the large obsidian gem stuck within her forehead, down her face to her half open (E/C) eyes.

“NOo…” Was all he could whisper as the tears began to flow.

England: Oliver slithered down the gorge after his beloved. Her busted body speared by many tiny stones like ancient arrows.

“Get up.” He chirped as his foot pushed against her.

(Y/N) body slumped back with the release of pressure. Again, he repeated the action as a stressed giggle seeped with the beginning of Oliver’s panic.

“Poppet, this isn’t funny.” Harder he pressed.

As the results imitated the original. Oliver’s chested heaved as his hands scrambled downward to feel along her body.

Reaching the crown of her head, something wet and sticky covered his pale hands. With practiced grace, Oliver twisted her head. Slowly he processed the haunting wound before him.

The giggles resurfaced for only a couple moments before morphing into a tear fill cackle of madness.

Birds scattered and rabbits fled as Oliver loudly promised to return what was lost back to himself. No matter the price, he would have (Y/N) returned to his arms.

Russia: Crimson eyes widened as (Y/N) descended into the deeps of valley. It felt like slow motion to the giant Russian as his wife took herself out of this world.

Large hands plunged into his pockets as he fished for his phone. Cursing in his native tongue when the cold plastic didn’t meet his hands fast enough. With a quick button press, Viktor demanded an air ambulance come to his location.

Keeping the phone in the juncture between ear and shoulder, he slid down the canyon wall. Stones were crushed under his heavy boots as he ran to his beloved’s side.

Answering questions in a sharp tone, Viktor applied pressure to the gushing wounds. Anger erupted like the blood around him as he snapped at the official. Telling them to hurry. That she was becoming limp. Dying.

The steady rhythm of chopper blades offered no relief to his anguished soul. For, his darling had died, unconscious and within his large, blood-soaked arms.

China: Jin swore he heard the shattering of glass, and not the harsh crack of bones as his Qin hit the ground.

Paralyzed on the cliff’s edge, the stench of blood rose like a polluted tide. A harsh cough wreaked his chest as he protested the tears. Gasps filled the silence as he sank to the cold ground.

Griping the grass, he ripped it from its own life-giving roots as he struggled to the edge.

Below him was Qin, soaked by her own liquid life. Her body bent like an exotic dancer’s with its unnatural angles.

She was gone, he sobbed.

What was he to do now?

[ptergwen]

smoke and mirrors

⇢ richkid!tom x richkid!reader ⇠

w/c: 4.1k

warnings: swearing, drinking, light angst, and implied smut

summary: because of your mother’s insistence on a pristine family image and tom’s messy one, you deny your true feelings for him

a/n: ok ok ok the pics of tom in monaco really made me think and i had to get everything out of my system so here we are! thank you and enjoy x

-

your living room is engulfed by a hushed chatter that comes from far too many guests. half the people, you hardly know. it’s overcrowded, superficial, and the last place you want to be. it’s one of your mother’s get-togethers, as she likes to call them. these things are always far from the casual affairs they sound like.

weeks go into planning, caterers and decorators making themselves at home in yours. the family’s image is everything to your mom, so being a good hostess is her top priority. ironically, she’s more concerned with throwing her gatherings than raising you. so much for family, huh?

the only reason you agreed to make an appearance tonight is that tom might do the same. he’s a really good friend, someone you’ve been able to count on through all the mess that is your lives. you met in high school, when he moved from london to the states. his dad was offered a job promotion he couldn’t pass up. plus, tom and his brothers would be receiving a stellar private education here in america.

it was a win for everyone, especially you. the freckle faced boy who got lost on his way to english class became your closest confidant. tom’s company is such a sweet escape. he’s not interested in opera or the stock market like most people you meet are. he sneaks you out to go on walks at dawn and does shots with you until you can’t stand straight.

as you two continue to grow together, revelations about yourselves have come to light. what you want beyond your inheritances, who you want beyond friendship. you figured out the second part on a faithful night recently. tom showed up to your place with a bottle of tequila. after you drank it down through lots of lime chasers and giggles, he kissed you. you didn’t kiss back.

your heart said to go for it, but your mind pulled you back in. you were so shocked and overcome with new feelings, you froze up. that, and you’d infuriate your mother. although she cares about tom a great deal, she loathes his public figure. he’s always getting papped in places and with people he shouldn’t be. the two of you together would just destroy her.

you still want to please your mom at the end of the day, no matter how deep under your skin she gets.

tom immediately apologized and tried play it off as him being drunk. you grew up with him, became part of each other’s families, which means you know him well enough to know he was lying. he meant every second his lips were on yours.

what you need to do now is something you’ve meant to for a while. the only problem is that you’re stuck at your mother’s party, and tom hasn’t shown up yet.

“y/n, darling,” your mom calls for your attention. she’s dragged you into a conversation with some bloggers, but you haven’t spoken a word. “why don’t you tell us about your trip to spain last summer?” she plasters on her award winning grin and squeezes your shoulder. it’s time to play along.

“oh, it was beautiful,” you halfheartedly reply, more to the bloggers than her. they nod in clear interest. one jots down notes. “we went for a few weeks and visited a bunch of different cities. i’d love to go back sometime.” the typical press formatted answer earns your mom’s approval. you’re off the hook. your eyes start to wander around the room, hoping to set on tom.

“we?” the woman taking notes asks. must everyone pry? “my friend and i,” you shortly reply. you’re standing up on your tiptoes to see over the crowd. you’d think six inch heels would do the trick. “i’m actually looking for him right now, so if you’ll excuse me,” you offer a polite smile and silently pray they won’t ask who. unfortunately, your wishes don’t come true.

the other blogger, a short and stubborn man, speaks up. “just a friend you say? come on, tell us. who’s the lucky fella?” he inquires. your mother raises a firm eyebrow, signaling for you not to.

tom has a reputation for his reckless behavior. it’s your mom’s worst nightmare when the media associates your names under most circumstances. you’re representing her, so she does whatever she can to control how you’re seen. you’re constantly in the papers, being a young socialite and all. it sucks.

“he’d like to stay out of the tabloids, sorry,” you cover for tom, on your mom’s behalf. “i should really go. it was nice meeting you.” the bloggers don’t bother to hide their disappointment as you shake their hands. your mother rubs your back in approval. “thank you for doing that. we’ll talk later,” she speaks lowly. “bye, mom!” you practically make a run for it. 

weaving through the sea of people, you end up by the main entrance. it’s hard not to get lost even though it’s your house. the place is packed with girls just a couple years older than you, wearing pearls around their necks. men’s strong colognes flow through the air. you’re in a form fitting red slip dress and louboutins yourself.

smoke and mirrors is what they call it. you show the pretty parts to distract from your ugly ones.

harrison suddenly comes waltzing in with a lady on either of his arms. you’d expect nothing less. he’s tom’s best friend besides you, considering the failed kiss attempt didn’t change that. their parents worked at the london branch of the same company. they each came to the states and met you. you happily introduced them to your world, helping to make it theirs as well.

“haz!” you meet him at the front door. he’s smirking while he leads the women inside. “fancy seeing you here, isn’t it?” he jokes. “very funny. i died laughing,” you deadpan, curiously eyeing harrison’s plus two. they merely giggle. “listen, have you seen tom anywhere? if he’s coming.” you’re fighting back a frown. “why wouldn’t he be?” harrison questions in a more serious tone this time.

“long story. you have guests to entertain, so i won’t get into it now,” you decide and manage a small smile instead. he perks up. “right. i’ll let you know if i see him?” nodding, you give him a wave goodbye. “enjoy yourself.” “you too, love. cheers!” the girls lean into him, harrison wiggling his eyebrows at you. he’s ridiculous.

hours pass by without word of tom. it isn’t like him to miss an event, especially if you’re in attendance. you despise these exhausting nights, and he’s supposed to be your rock during them. he should have his arm draped around your shoulders, whispering silly remarks to you while you hide out somewhere. you miss him more than you thought possible.

you’re just about to give up when you spot nikki ushering her husband inside. behind them follows tom, clad in a grey checkered suit with his locks perfectly tousled. he’s here. you waited the whole night, and he finally came.

tom kisses his mom on the cheek before strutting over to the drink table, not without a few reporters hassling him. they’re probably looking for another holland scandal to break. he declines their requests for comments on this and opinions on that, instead pulling up a chair next to harrison. the two exchange hugs and fix themselves glasses of champagne, you watching their encounter.

harrison fills tom in on the drama he’s missed tonight while they sip their drinks. tom keeps forcing smiles that don’t reach his eyes. he’s fiddling with his fingers, leg bouncing up and down steadily. those are the telltale signs he needs saving. however awkward it may be, you’re going to have to break your silence. it was bound to happen eventually.

“mate, i’m telling you. she fit her entire first right up her-“ “boys,” you cut into harrison’s story, greeting him and tom. his face tints deep pink upon your arrival. “don’t let me stop you. finish your charming anecdote,” you encourage him and subtly glance over at tom. he’s biting back a grin as he sets his elbows on the table.

“not with a lady present. let’s just… pretend you didn’t hear that,” harrison chuckles nervously and hops to his feet. “i’m gonna leave you two to chat.” humming, you move to take his chair. tom sucks in a breath. “what happened to the girls you brought?” you wonder. “they left. said they got bored,” harrison admits, tom stifling laughter. he elbows his friend for that.

“oh, fuck off. i’ll see you later,” he mopes, flicking your arm for good measure. tom salutes him and grabs his nearly empty champagne. “so long, bruv.”

it’s just you and tom now, seated side by side, silently so. he has no intentions of speaking first. he’s too embarrassed, and you don’t blame him. this is on you. you clear your throat before starting the conversation.

“can i top you off?” you tap the bottom of his glass with a tiny smile. tom shakes his head. “i’m alright, thanks.” he finishes the last sip and sets it down, turning to face you. your smile has vanished. “wasn’t sure you were gonna make it. i’m glad you did,” you change the subject. as if he’s considering the sincerity behind your words, tom furrows his eyebrows.

“mum wanted us to. she dragged me and dad straight off the golf course,” he explains and clasps his hands in his lap. his fingers interlock with each other. you fight off the urge to replace them with yours. “we would’ve been here sooner, but the paps are camped outside.” the hint of a smile forms on his lips, at last. “guess it’s not often you get the town’s finest under one roof.”

“you think i’m one of the town’s finest?” you tease, resting your chin in your palm. something flashes behind tom’s eyes. he looks right into yours, scooting closer. “absolutely. you’re the most eligible bachelorette in this whole building.” you allow a toothy grin to spread across your face. “tommy, stop it. you’re too nice to me.”

the nickname is music to his ears. tom looks you up and down, licking his lips simultaneously. “no, seriously. you look gorgeous,” he muses, you pushing at his chest. he exhales a breathy laugh, and you giggle yourself. “red’s definitely your color.” “reverse card. you wear it way better than i do,” you insist. your fingers tug at the collar of his suit. “too bad you didn’t match me.”

you’re relieved you two can talk like you usually do, light flirting and good vibes. it might not be so hard to put the kiss behind you. well, you can’t go on pretending it didn’t happen. you have to at least discuss the fiasco. tom should know why you didn’t reciprocate, then you can take it from there. whether he still has feelings for you, assuming he ever did, will depend on how that turns out.

“not to ruin the fun, but we still have to talk,” you murmur, tom’s body stiffening across from yours. he’s not sure he’s ready to discuss that. “can it wait? we’re at a party,” tom reminds you, running a hand through his styled locks. “yeah, my mother’s. don’t tell me you’re having a good time,” you playfully chastise him. he simply shrugs. “hardly. you’re the best part.”

you ignore the butterflies roaming about your body.

“you won’t mind a quick convo, then. it is with me,” you attempt to persuade him and place a hand on his knee. tom coughs a bit too loudly, the contact surprising him. “you know what? i think i’ll take you up on that drink first,” he decides with a mustered up smile. “coming right up.” you pat his leg before taking his glass. he chews on his lower lip while you poor the bubbling liquid. that was certainly… odd.

you slide tom his champagne back with an exaggerated wink. tom scoffs at this. “mm, thanks. care to join me?” he brings the alcohol to his lips, eyes never leaving yours. your mother specifically said no drinking tonight, since the press would be here. screw your mother, though. “please. could you hand me a glass?” you eagerly grab the champagne bottle. tom searches for an empty cup next to him.

you two are unspoken drinking buddies at this point.

“here you are, darling,” tom drawls, holding out the glass for you. every time he calls you that, you completely melt. “thanks, tommy,” you purr in response. you’re finally pouring your own drink when someone taps you on the shoulder, and hard. you look behind you to find your mother standing with her hands on her hips, less than thrilled. speak of the devil.

“hello, mother. can i help you?” you make sure to ask rudely. she responds with a smile that’s obviously fake. if tom weren’t here, you’d be getting scolded. “yes, my darling. those bloggers from earlier were hoping you’d finish your interview.” your mom shakes your shoulder in a motherly way. you squint up at her. “didn’t they leave hours ago-“ “they’re back,” she sharply informs you.

she’s lying, and you have a hunch as to why.

frowning, you hold tom’s hand in both of yours. “sorry, this won’t take long. why don’t you go find tuwaine?” you suggest instead. “he’s around here somewhere.” tom gives you an understanding nod and laces your fingers together, even if it’s only for a moment. “must be chatting up some producers or whatnot. i’ll see if i can help.” he’s such an incredible friend to everyone. he deserves the same from you.

“thomas, so lovely to see you,” your mom interrupts. tom stands up, kissing both her cheeks out of courtesy. “you, too. what a wonderful party. thank you for having us.” despite what the rest of the world believes, his manners are impeccable. “of course. give nikki my best, will you?” your mom puts her hands on his shoulders. he grins at her. “definitely. take care, mrs. y/l/n.” “always a pleasure,” she states, nudging you to come along with her.

you shoot tom one last apologetic look as your mother pulls you along and towards the crowd.

tom is no idiot. he’s well aware how she really feels about him.

when a swarm of guests is surrounding you, your mom lets go. you scowl, crossing your arms over your chest. “why would you do that? i haven’t seen tom in days.” she sighs without a care. “isn’t it time you branch out? expand your social circle?” her manicured fingers ruffle your hair. you push away her touch. “i’m social enough. we were in the middle of something really important.”

you begin to walk away, but your mother takes your arm. “whatever you’re about to do, it’s a mistake. he’ll make a fool of you,” she practically spits. yanking your arm from her grasp, you laugh bitterly. “of me, or of the family name? look around, mom.” you gesture to the spot beside her where your dad should be. “as far as i’m concerned, i have no family except tom. i’m gonna go check on him.”

you’re gone before your mom can stop you. she simply stands there, utterly mortified by what you said.

you run around the house to find tom, stumbling in your heels and not giving a fuck. you’d truly meant the part about him being your family. all the holland’s, honestly. they’re the most genuine and caring souls, and you don’t want to lose the one you’re closest to because of your mother’s delusions. 

tom is in a circle with harrison and tuwaine, the three of them chuckling amongst themselves. you’d hate to bug him, but this can’t wait anymore.

“uh, tom?” you mumble his name, appearing behind him. he steps away with another quiet laugh. “hey, y/n/n. that was quick, hm?” your face gives away your distress. his whole demeanor shifting, tom reaches for your hands. “what is it, love? is something the matter?” “just… come with me,” you croak out.

you manage to smile at harrison and tuwaine, dropping one of tom’s hands so you can lead him upstairs. they each return the smile and share curious looks.

following behind you, tom keeps your hand tight in his own. he’d thought you were going to grill him about the kiss that barely happened. it seems like this is a much more pressing matter. his outburst of emotions can be discussed another time. now, it’s time to deal with yours.

you drag tom into the first room on the second floor, which is your dad’s study. he’s away on business this weekend, so he luckily couldn’t make the party. tom sits down in the office chair. you sit up on the desk, in front of him. your lip quivers the second his worried features come into view.

“y/n/n, what’s going on? why are we in here?” tom wonders, his tone soft. your heart clenches. “i- i wanted us to have some privacy when i told you this,” you sniffle out and blink back the tears forming. you’re sort of shaken from the conversation with your mother, and mostly because you have no idea how tom will react to your confession.

his hands come to stay on your thighs, right below your dress. they feel warm against your bare skin.

“tell me what? i’m listening, yeah?” tom gazes up at you with so much love. “lay it all out for me.” god, he’s fucking amazing. if only you knew where to start. “do you, um…” you trail off, letting your tears subside and words settle. “do you remember when your family made your big debut in town?”

a grin replaces tom’s frown, painting his beautiful face. “how could i forget? you made it quite memorable.” he traces circles on your thigh and elicits a giggle from you. “i spilled a whole thing of soda on your white fucking button down,” you recount with a lighthearted sigh. “right before your dad was supposed to introduce you to everyone, too.”

tom presses his tongue into his cheek to hold back another grin. “took ages to get it out. dad went mad when i didn’t show.” he cocks his head to the side, you leaning back on your hands. “you held me hostage in the laundry room so you could do that bloody stain stick.” your mouth drops open in mock offense. “i had to clean up my mess! i wasn’t gonna let the world meet you covered in pepsi.”

that was one of your earliest memories together. the holland’s threw a party and invited everyone who was willing to attend. they had been hoping to properly introduce themselves to the town, and this was their way of doing so. although yours and tom’s friendship was fairly new, you spent all night together because you had experience with such events.

tom’s dad was making a speech to thank the guests for coming. you and him listened from the snack table, until his name was called. he rushed to go up there while you were pouring yourself a drink. he’d bumped into you, and the bottle ended up all over him. you snuck tom right off to his laundry room.

you’d felt terrible as he stood there shirtless and blushing, you aggressively swiping his button down with a stain stick.

“why do you bring that up?” tom questions and continues circling your skin. you purse your lips. “i dunno. it was the last party i actually enjoyed,” you admit, putting your hand over his that rests on your thigh. “like to reminisce when i’m suffering through one of my mother’s.” his eyes shift to where your hands are laced. “i see,” he affirms. “so, is that… all you wanted to talk about?” “not even close,” you laugh out.

a burst of courage coursing through your body, you say it. “when you kissed me the other night-“ “i won’t do it again,” tom cuts in, trying to avoid the rejection he thinks you’ll give him. “it was a mistake, and i’m so sorry. our friendship is more important than my feelings.” you seem excited to hear that, though it’s not for the reason tom expects. “you do have feelings for me?”

he’d forgotten about his i was drunk excuse.

“um, yeah. i do,” he admits, cheeks rosy and lip caught in his teeth. “but, i’ll learn to put them aside, if that’s what’s best.” “no, no. it isn’t,” you dismiss him and put your free hand on his chest. “i love you, tom. that’s what i was really trying to tell you.” your words bring an instant grin to his face. he chuckles in disbelief, standing from the chair.

“fuck, thank god. that’s all i’ve ever wanted to hear.” he’s between your legs now, his hands moving up to your hips. you’re beaming at him as your arms snake around his neck. a burning question comes to tom’s mind. “hang on. why didn’t you kiss me back, then?” he almost whispers, thumb brushing over your hipbone. “this is gonna sound weird, but… my mom,” you reluctantly let out.

“you’re gonna have to elaborate,” tom prompts you and raises an eyebrow. you can’t hold back your eye roll. “she’s never been a fan of the person you are in the media.” his lips form a line. “i gathered.” your fingers tangle in his curls at the nape of his neck reassuringly. “i was subconsciously scared i would be letting her down in some way, if we were together.”

tom allows your hands to work their way up to his scalp. he exhales contentedly as you play with his ever so soft hair. “i understand, she’s intimidating. what’s changed that brilliant mind of yours about coming clean?” your nose scrunches up when he pokes one of your temples. “oh, yeah. i yelled at her earlier ‘cuz she stole me away from you.” his face lights up. “sexy.” “shut up,” you groan. “someone had to tell her off.”

“good thing it got to be you,” tom agrees with a squeeze at your hip. “‘m proud of you, y/n/n. it’s not easy, standing up to mummy dearest.” you tug on his hair. “like you’d know. nikki is a saint.” “that’s what she’ll have you believe,” he says under his breath, you gasping. his lips turn up in a smirk. “on that note… i love you, too.”

“would’ve been embarrassing if you didn’t say it back,” you acknowledge with a cheesy smile. tom dips his head down to rest his forehead against yours. “yeah, yeah. save the attitude for your mum.” your legs easily wrap around his waist, tom’s breath hot as it hits your face. “let’s give that kiss another go,” you mewl. he doesn’t hesitate to reply. “with pleasure.”

tom’s lips land on yours, you kissing back right away. he smiles into it as your lips gently move together. “about fucking time,” he grumbles, your hands situating in his chocolate curls once again. he’s savoring every second you touch him, kiss him, love him. the taste of your mouth is one he’s craved for longer than you could imagine.

it doesn’t take long for things to heat up, you messing with tom’s hair and tom rubbing your hips. you lay back on the desk as his tongue enters your mouth. holding you by your waist, tom hovers over you. his tongue tangles with yours in a deep kiss. between that and his fingers beginning to massage your thigh, you’re done for. you’re ready to take this a step further by the time he’s kissing down your neck.

“tommy?” you grab onto his shoulders, your head back. his lips detach from your skin with a grin. “yeah, love? ‘s everything okay?” he coos, pressing a final kiss to your collarbone. “more than.” you tilt his chin up to peck his lips. “you wouldn’t happen to have a condom, would you? just thinking ahead.” he laughs breathlessly, reaching into his suit pocket.

“conveniently enough, i do. not sure your dad would like me fucking you on his desk, though.” tom sets his hand on your leg that’s still hooked around his waist. “my room’s always available. carry me?” you make grabby hands and bat your lashes. he hoists you up by your waist, not lifting you just yet. “that would break the news of us, no? your mum’s gonna go apeshit.” he keeps his arms around you, chuckling.

“let her. besides, i know a couple of bloggers that would love to announce our status update.” you peck tom’s lips, grinning as you do. you’re suddenly in the air and being picked up by tom. the surprise of it makes you squeal, clutching onto his broad shoulders instinctively. he gives you the look of adoration that’s reserved for you only.

“we’ll go pop a few bottles with everyone, then we’re celebrating on our own.”

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

sweet as honey, hard as nails

Warnings: non-consent sex and rape; fingering, fisting, squirting, kidnapping, spanking/whipping, some allusions to breeding.

This is dark! nomad Steve Rogers x reader and explicit. 18+ only.  Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Synopsis: You’re trapped by more than four walls, trapped between the past and the present.

Note: Thanks to @lokislastlove​ for helping me brainstorm. I was just hungering for some good nomad.

Thanks to everyone for sticking around and putting up with me and thanks in advance for all your feedback. :)

I really hope you enjoy. 💋

<3 Let me know what you think with a like or reblog or reply or an ask! Love ya!

The light pad of your feet on the wooden floor was punctuated by the metallic clink, softened as you stepped onto the rug between the couch and the fireplace. You barely noticed the subtle weight around your ankle anymore. You barely remembered anything but those walls, the quilt spread neatly over the bed, the portrait of a woman in a Victorian era farm dress watching a field of sheep, the wooden bowl you filled with fruit from the garden.

The dress flowed around your figure as you strode to the counter and filled the sink with hot water from the tap. You slid the stack of plates into the suds and dropped the utensils on top. You watched the basin fill and took a gulp of the pollen-laced air blowing in through the open window before you. 

From there, you could see the garden and the swing that faced the endless forest. You could hear the birds and the critters chirping and searching for food. You sometimes saw the tawny fur of a deer between the brush or the red tail of a fox. The serenity of the place was deceiving.

You focused on your work, the plates printed with pinecones around the trim. They were old but worthless antiques, each piece in the cupboard matched, uniform and perfect, just like the life built for you in that cabin. You drained the sink and dried the dishes one at a time as you hummed. You were tone deaf but there wasn’t much else you could do to fill the lull.

You closed the cupboard and hung the towel on the bar. You looked at your wrinkled hands as you strode blindly around the couch. The metal at your ankle stopped you as the long chain wrapped around the furniture in your carelessness. You stopped and stared at the door and the heavy iron bolt above the handle.

Your eyes clung to the dark wood but you saw beyond. In your mind, you descended those steep stairs and sat against the cold concrete again. You closed your eyes. Don’t think of it, don’t. It only made it all worse.

⛓️then⛓️

You shivered as you hugged yourself in the corner of the dark space. There was no light, only shadows around you. It was cold and only the fleece blanket left for you kept you from chattering uncontrollably. You blew into your hands and sank down further as you heard the footsteps again, just above you on the groaning wooden floor.

It was an hour, maybe two, since you’d woken in that place. Your head hurt and a fog obscured your mind. You remember the beach, your sister laughing as you hopped from one leg to the other and whined that you would end up peeing in the water. You slipped into your sandals and left her on her towel. 

You heard the choppy waves, the lake growing more and more uneven in the last days of summer. You went early before the afternoon made the water too cold to bear. The sand weighed down your steps and you didn’t know if you’d make it in time.

You flew into the stinky stall just between the parking lot and the trails down to the lake. You hovered over the hole and relieved yourself with a shaky moan. It hurt but felt so good. You rinsed your hands in the foot-pump sink and swung the door open. That’s as far as you remembered.

The footsteps stopped at the door that stood at the top of the stairs, as they had several times before. You couldn’t reach them as the chain around your ankle kept you on the other side of the musty basement. That time, the latch turned and the door opened slowly with a creak. A light broke the blackness and a figure appeared above you.

You counted his steps, eleven. It was a him, you could tell by his broad silhouette, the way he walked, almost like a soldier. When he got to the bottom, he set something down on the bottom step and marched through the dark to the corner opposite you. You trembled but not from the cold.

Click. The lantern glowed suddenly and cast his tall form in a yellow haze. He turned back, you could make out his nose, long and slightly bent in the middle, his square jaw and the thick fuzz of his beard, and the line of his brow above the shadowed eyes. He went back to the stairs and took the tupperware and the water bottle. He neared and set them down before you.

You leaned into the wall and covered your face. You were terrified, still in nothing more but your onepiece beneath the blanket. You smelled like the lake, the sand, and the sun. He knelt and pulled the lid off the container. You still didn’t move, hiding behind your hands as you tried not to cry.

“Eat,” he said tersely.

You didn’t move, didn’t look, just hoped you could dissolve into the wall. He said your name and you gulped loudly. You parted your fingers and looked between them at him. You still couldn’t make out his whole face, just the shape of it, just the impenetrable wall of his body.

“Go on, eat,” he ordered again, “and don’t forget your manners.”

You slowly dropped your hands and reached over the top of the blanket. You kept your eyes on him, afraid he might grab you, hit you, or worse. You took a piece of the cut up chicken breast with your fingers as he nodded and stood.

“Thank you,” you rasped.

“Good girl,” he said and retreated, “you keep it up and you won’t be down here too long.”

⛓️now⛓️

You flinched and your trance broke. Your eyes were wet and you quickly wiped the tears away before they could trickle down your cheeks. You turned away and retraced your steps so that the chain slackened at your ankle. You went back to the counter and gripped the edge. You gazed out the window but not for too long, it only hurt more.

You pulled out the thick flanks of venison from the fridge and seasoned them, rubbing the cold meat until it was fragrant. You chopped it into chunks and fried it in a pan, the natural fat and oil spitting out at you.

You mixed together the dough in a bowl and rolled out the pastry thin before you laid it in the pan. You added veggies to the mix on the stove and added some more spice. You used the dripping for a gravy and added it back in. You filled the shell and crimped the edges as you stretched the top of the pie over the savoury innards.

You turned on the small stove, a fixture straight out of the sixties, and shoved the pie onto the rack. You rinsed your hands one last time and your eyes were drawn back to the window. You heard the crunch of leaves and fervent breaths, whimpers as another set of steps hammer close behind. You close your eyes.

⛓️then⛓️

You had no shoes, your naked feet scratched and scraped in the twigs and dirty, errant branches catching at your dress and whipping your bare arms. You didn’t know where you were going, you didn’t know where you were, you just needed to run until you found someone who could save you. Until he couldn’t find you.

You heard him getting closer and closer. He was fast and you were unused to physical activity. It was months since you’d left the cabin. Two, maybe. It was cold and your feet throbbed from the bite of the air.  You veered between the trees and your foot caught. You cried out as you plummeted into the leaves and rolled over as the rope clung to your ankle. You’d stepped right into a trap.

You loosened it, the knot meant for nothing more than a rabbit, but as you stood, you were knocked onto your ass. He stood above you and kicked you onto your back. He planted his foot on your chest and scowled down at you, his blues eyes bore into you angrily.

“Bad girl,” he pushed on your chest until you wheezed, “you’re going back to the basement.”

“No, no, no,” you slapped at him as he removed his foot and bent to lift you up, “please--”

“Shut up,” he growled as he dragged you back to the path, “it’ll be harder this time, don’t make it worse than you already have.”

⛓️now⛓️

You gasped as your eyes flicked open. The rumble of the engine reverberated and faded into the trees as the faded green truck pulled up before the low fences. The motor shut off and the man hopped out on the other side. You watched as he went to the bed and opened it, he pulled out and crate that he held under one arm and an odd leather suitcase in the other.

He saw you through the window and smiled. You batted your lashes and forced yourself to smile back. You went to the door and opened it for him. He kicked off his tan boots and strode inside as you waited patiently. He stepped over the chain and plopped his goods on the table.

“You miss me, honey pie?” he asked, “mmm, it smells good in here.”

“I did… dear,” you used the epithet that made him happy, that kept him placid, “I made steak pie.”

“Yum,” he unclasped the briefcase and paused as he looked at you, “I have a surprise for you.”

“You went to the city?”

“Why I left so early. Don’t you remember? I kissed you goodbye but you were sleepy so,” his thumbs rubbed the tarnished clasps.

“I remember,” you said, “I figured since you took the truck.”

“This is for you,” he said, “a surprise.”

“A surprise?” you blinked and watched his hands.

He opened the lid of the briefcase and revealed the interior with a ‘ta da’. You looked over the record player, the knobs worn and the upholster of the lid frayed. “It’s used, but it works.”

He reached over and slid the crate closer, “I grabbed whatever they had that wasn’t gospel.”

You didn’t move to look at the records or to admire the Victrola. You were too stunned. Not that he brought you a surprise, he always brought you small things, new dresses or a little figurine. Stuff you didn’t like but pretended to for his sake, but more so your own.

“What’s wrong?” he asked.

It was so long since you’d heard music. You knew that it was close to a year now. The days grew shorter, the air cooler, and the garden was at the end of its bloom. It was a lovely present from your keeper, the keeper you could never love.

“Thank you,” you whispered but still didn’t touch any of it. You cleared your throat, “thank you, Steve.”

“You okay?” he touched your shoulder. You learned not to flinch, that made him angry.

“You didn’t have to… do that,” you said.

“You’ve been good, you earned it,” he rubbed your arm, “there’s more in the truck. Why don’t you get it set up while I unload?”

“Yes, dear,” you nodded.

He bent and kissed your cheek, then caught your chin and laid a deeper kiss on your lips. You felt the shudder, the hunger, he wanted you that night, like most nights.

He went back outside and you hauled the record player to the table beside the fireplace. You plugged it in and went back to get the records. You sorted through until you found a familiar name. You took out the vinyl and checked for scratches before you laid it on the deck. You dropped the needle and it crackled before the melody began.

‘Oh my baby's comin home tomorrow

Ain't that good news

Man, ain't that news

Baby's coming home tomorrow

Ain't that news

Man, ain't that news’

⛓️then⛓️

The hammering stopped and Steve stood up. You watched him through the window as he replaced the tool in the metal box and closed it up. He tossed it back in the truck bed and came back through the open door of the cabin. It was spring, the long winter was over, a winter mostly spent below, and he wanted to clean up the garden.

He went to the hoop drilled into the floor and unlocked the chain from it. He tugged on it and led you outside like a dog on a leash and looped it through the one he’d just set into the concrete base. He yanked and tested its sturdiness then dropped the links. He dusted off his hands and looked around.

“Now you can come out and help,” he declared, “you should be able to reach everything you need. And I’m almost done the swing. We’ll be able to sit out here in the evenings.”

“Thank you, dear,” you recited the words, a habit you were almost compulsive about.

“Your welcome, honey pie,” he neared and kissed your forehead, “you understand right? Now that you’re back up here, you have to be good.”

“Yes, dear,” you swallowed your despair and smiled stiffly.

“We’re starting over,” he touched your cheek, “I forgive you.”

“Thank you…. dear,” you brushed your hand against his and he tilted his head. His other went to the sleeve of your dress and traced over your collarbone. He picked at the lace trim along the chest. His eyes darkened and he bit his lip.

⛓️now⛓️

You unclipped the cotton from the line and watched the leaves sway along the tree line. You shook the memory from your head. That night, the first night he’d… It happened so many times since, what did it matter?

You dropped the laundry into the wicker and lifted the basket. You went back to the door and stopped. He’d changed the record and the music kept the stifling silence from suffocating you. You stood in the doorway and watched his shoulders as he read.

“Dear,” you said carefully, “I’m ready to come inside.”

He put the book face down on the arm and stood. He crossed to you and you stepped just inside to let him past. He dragged his hand across your stomach as he sidled through the door. He disappeared for a moment and returned with the chain in hand. He secured it in its hook by the bed and you closed the door.

“Once I fold this, dinner should be ready,” you said.

“Alright,” he replied but sounded glum, “you work so hard, honey pie.”

“Yes, dear,” you set the basket on the bed and pulled out one of his shirts.

He was quiet as he sat. You felt him watching you. You stacked the shirts and went to grab hangers for your dresses. With the chain, all you could wear were dresses. Besides, there was no point in trying to be modest.

“You like the player?” he asked.

“Very much, dear,” you said, “it is a nice surprise.”

“Well, really, it’s an anniversary gift…” he remarked.

“Anniversary?” you trembled, only slightly as you pulled the dress over the hanger.

“It’s been one year. Can you believe that?”

“One year?” you repeated, “that’s… amazing.”

“Yeah, I mean, I can hardly remember what it was like before you. Feels like it’s been longer than that.”

“Happy anniversary, dear,” you said numbly and hung the last dress. You put away his clothes in the chest and put the basket back in the corner.

As you turned, you were startled to see him at the foot of the bed. He stared at the pattern of the quilt, his hands on his hips. He never had to say what he wanted, if you made him, it would be worse. You blanched and quickly scurried over. You shook as you climbed onto the mattress and pulled up your skirt.

“Dear?” you quivered as you lifted your dress up your chest. He leaned a knee on the bed and stopped you.

“No, later,” he said as he pushed the fabric back down, “and I want you to keep this on tonight.”

“Okay,” you sat back on your heels as his hands rested on your sides. His eyes lingered on your stomach. He looked sad.

“Dinner should be ready, right?” he drew away, “it smells ready.”

⛓️then⛓️

“I was out all day hunting and I come back to this!” Steve huffed, “you haven’t even started dinner.”

“I lost track of time, dear, I’m sorry--”

“You will be,” he snarled as he crossed his arms, “take off your dress and turn around.”

“Please--”

“Quiet,” he barked and his jaw ticked.

You sniffed and took the dress off. You dropped it over the edge of the couch and neared him. You turned around and he sighed darkly. He grabbed your shoulders and directed you over to the table. He pushed until you were bent over it.

“Stay,” he snarled, “I didn’t want it to come to this but you need to learn.”

You closed your eyes and braced the wood as you readied for another spanking. Your breath caught hover as you heard the subtle tinkle of metal. The leather rested against your ass and Steve tutted.

“I love you, honey pie,” he said, “that’s why I have to do this.”

The first strike was like fire, it burned your skin. The second was worse and you cried out. Your body wracked with sobs as he continued and by the dozenth or so, it hurt even when he wasn’t hitting you.

“I’ll do better,” you whimpered, “please, I’ll do better.”

⛓️now⛓️

You took Steve’s empty plate and your own and rinsed them off. You took the sponge and cleaned them completely and left them in the rack. You heard him behind you and you dried your hands before turning back to him. He stood with his back to you, he was looking at something.

You went to him and he looked at you as you came around the couch. He smiled, almost embarrassed, it was too late to hide what he was holding. He chuckled and held up the sleepers; one in pink and one in blue. “I got one of each… in case…”

You stood speechless. You knew it was a possibility, almost a certainty, but you tracked your periods almost religiously. So far, you’d been lucky. The idea of being out here with a child on top of everything else was more frightening than anything he’d done.

You spun away and covered your face. You began to cry. You couldn’t help it. It was a promise, a promise that you would never get away.

“What’s wrong, honey pie? I thought you’d like them--”

You shook your head but couldn’t stop. You walked away from him, the chain dragging loudly and you fell helplessly to your knees. Fuck him! Fuck him! You bent and beat on the wooden floor as you sobbed.

“Stop this,” his voice turned firm, “you’re being ridiculous.”

“No, no, no, no, no,” you muttered, “please, I can’t-- I can’t--”

“Don’t be a bad girl,” he warned as he came close, “now it’s our anniversary. Let’s celebrate.”

“I don’t want to,” you uttered, “I never wanted--”

He grabbed you around the waist and wrenched you up. He forced you over to the bed and pushed you onto it. He growled as you turned onto your back and gaped up at him.

“You know what happens to bad girls,” he sneered, “so you have one minute to suck it up and be good.”

You rubbed your eyes and wiped away the wetness from your cheeks. He took off his tee and flung it into the basket, then his jeans, socks, and underwear. His muscles bulged through his skin and his arousal bobbed before him as he came up to the foot off the bed. You got to your knees and gripped your skirts in your sweaty hands.

“How do you want me?” you said crisply as your throat squeezed. The lump stayed lodged firmly there as a nail was set deep in your skull.

“Mouth, first, honey pie, you know I like a warm up,” he stroked his dick and wiggled it.

You crawled to the end of the bed and replaced his hand with yours. Your breath glossed over his tip and you opened your mouth around him. He groaned and gripped his hips as he tilted his pelvis forward. You sank down until he was at your throat and you moved your hand in time with your mouth, easing the intrusion of his length.

“Mmm, that’s it, honey pie,” he purred as his hands went to your shoulders.

Your spit spread down his dick and slicked the motion of your hand. You gulped and gagged as he pushed on your shoulders and you sped up. You bobbed your head steadily. It was a habit, a pattern, you did it all so mechanically. It was easier if you looked at it like just another chore.

He grasped your shoulders and urged you away from him. Saliva dripped from your mouth and down your chin. You wiped your face with the back of your hand and reached to your dress. Finish him quickly and you might be done… maybe, or it would be another endless night.

“No, I said keep it on,” he spun his finger in the air, “let me see your ass.”

You turned around and gathered up the skirt of your dress. You bent over on your elbows as your legs stuck out off the edge of the bed. He kneaded the flesh and hummed as he pulled your cheeks apart. He pushed his dick between them and slid it up and down.

He reached under you and rubbed your clit. His other hand glided up your back and held your shoulder. You were wet, you couldn’t help that even if you hated it. He pushed two fingers inside without warning, then a third. Even after all this time, you were never used to the stretching, even just his fingers.

“Mmm, honey pie, you are so wet,” he stepped back and bent to push his face between your legs. You arched as his lip flicked along your folds and his fingers slipped out to follow it, “you taste so good.”

He stood straight again and licked his fingers clean noisily. He shoved them back into you roughly. He pulled in and out and added his pink. You whined as he got deeper and deeper. He’d never used more than three at a time.

“You think you can take all of it?” he asked.

“Wha--” you voice cracked as he folded his thumb against his palm and poked at your entrance, your juices spreading over his hand as he fucked you, “Ste--”

You gasped as he got his whole hand inside. He seemed surprised too and he bent over you as he forced himself in to his wrist. Your cunt sucked at him hungrily and the noises filled the desolate cabin.

“Good girl,” he slithered as you squeezed around him and his other hand searched for your clit, “look at that, huh?”

He sped up and your arms collapsed. Your head was on the bed as he kept your ass up and played with your bud as he kept his other hand moving inside of you. You whined and moan as the fullness sparked your core and your thighs began to quake. You puffed wildly and grasped the quilt as your orgasm hit and gushed down his arm.

“Oh, honey pie,” he slipped out of you slowly and pulled his other hand away, “what a start.”

He grabbed your skirt with his wet hand and bunched it as he stepped up behind you. He pressed his tip to your entrance and glided in easily. Your walls gripped him even tighter than before, still pulsing from your climax. He reached his limit and grunted.

“Such a good girl,” he purred as he moved his hips slowly, a smooth rock as his free hand stretched over your ass.

You murmured and mewled as he tilted into you. His motion built steadily until his skin clapped against yours. He twisted your dress until it was tight around your middle and he stopped to push you forward on the bed. You dragged yourself up as he climbed onto his knees behind you. 

He picked up his former pace and the bed shook beneath you. He lifted one leg over yours and then the other and pushed them together. He stayed inside of your and leaned on you until you were slat on your stomach. He straddled you as he pushed his shoulders up and gripped the straps of your dress. He rutted into you without restraint as the pressure around him was even more unbearable.

Your cunt quivered around him again and your head lolled back and forth. His hips snapped up against your ass as his thick breaths added to the heat all around you. He snaked a hand beneath you to grope your tit and his other gripped your head. He jerked into you sharply and you cried out, his next thrust sporadic but just as deep.

He spilled into you and your cunt milked him eagerly. You went limp as you spasmed and let the waves swell and crash around you. When he stilled, he stayed inside of you and ran his hands up and down your back.

Once you caught your breath, he began to move again. You were sore and battered. Even if he fucked you every night, it was always too much, and the ache never really left. You moaned and he spread his body over yours, cocooning you in his warmth as he kept his hips rocking.

“Good girl,” he gritted, “good girl,” he pet your head as he kissed your cheek and kept fucking you, “so good for me, honey pie.”

The same day over and over. The same words every night. Again and again and again and again.