#i wish i could cease to exist in this reality

[certainlynotlost]

i wanted to write a light-hearted, kind of dumb fic about james being a prince and sirius meeting him in his early adulthood and them falling in love while resolving some issues of their own and now i am so tempted to make them go fucking feral? set them loose and be terrible people to everyone but each other? and i can't because i know i'll regret it if i do? as in. i want the fic i wanted originally but also i want one where they're feral and i--

i cannot start another fic before finishing this one, ffs.

[kteezy997]

The Heart of a Bene Gesserit- Part Four//Paul Atreides//Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen

Warnings: cursing, smut, threesome, f and m receiving oral sex

“As a Bene Gesserit, I feel that it is my duty to see how you are being treated here. But please trust that I have no ulterior motives. I’m not wholly certain of the conditions of the slave quarters, but I’d like to find out.”

“Well, the food is shit, they give you just enough water to stay alive after being out in the scorching desert all day, and the beds here are hard and cold, but other than that, it is rather pleasing.” the biting sarcasm from the youngest Harkonnen was palpable.

“Mm-hmm.” you nodded, “I will speak to the Emperor, he needs to be more generous to the men who mind his spice. What you have is not enough.”

“That is very honorable of you…”

“Y/n.”

“Y/n.” he said your name, smiling and giving you a glimpse of his teeth. “But I fear that your suggestions will fall upon deaf ears. I cannot blame Atreides, if our roles were reversed, I'd have him enslaved as well, or I'd have just killed him. Our families have held hatred for one another for centuries, you should already know that."

“But he shouldn’t hate you, Feyd. You were just a boy, the same as Paul, when his father was killed. You were not a conspirator against the Atreides.”

“I have to ask: why are you lending yourself to my cause? Is it because Atreides has rejected your advances? Has he refused to give you the heir you were sent to acquire?” his dark eyes narrowed down at you, putting you on the spot.

You shook your head, “How did you know about the mission?”

Feyd-Rautha shrugged, “People talk. We don’t have much down here besides talk of spice. But the slaves have learned much about you, y/n.”

“Hm.” you huffed, “Well, you may know that I never did advance on Paul. He is my friend.”

“Friend? An Emperor has no friends, only followers.” he knew this to be true, as he was almost Emperor himself.

“Paul and I knew each other as children on Caladan.”

His non-existent brows raised up, he blinked slowly, “Oh, a childhood crush, is it?” he smirked.

You looked down, "I do not wish to speak of this."

"I suppose he rejected you, and now you're bored, so you're after the next best thing-"

"Silence!" you used the Voice.

Feyd's eyes closed, the movement of his mouth ceased against his will. "I see you've mastered the Voice."

"I am Bene Gesserit, of course I have. They do not let you graduate without doing so."

"I can also see that this is a sensitive topic for you, so I'll change the subject." Feyd slowly walked over toward the shadow edge of the roof. "I have a request for you, since Atreides won't likely show me any kindnesses."

You were intrigued, but also worried at what he could have wanted from you. "What is your request?"

"Get me off-world, back to Geidi Prime. Somewhere I can hide out from the Emperor."

"Feyd, he would kill you if he even knew you asked me that." youj warned.

"Precisely. Which is why he would never know."

You sighed, "You have given me much to consider, but I should be leaving. I have a feeling we are being watched by one of the servants."

Feyd gave you a smirk, "Well darling, if I knew we were being watched, I would have given them a show."

........

You left Feyd-Rautha and the slaves' quarters, returning to your wing of the House. You felt a little bit exhausted after your conversation with the Harkonnen and all the thoughts of Paul's reaction. You just wanted to sleep. You couldn't believe how quickly your life had come to revolve around two men.

You found yourself wrestling with thoughts of them both. You loved Paul Atreides, but there was something charming and also forbidden about his cousin Feyd. Were you attracted to the anti-Paul?

You took an afternoon nap, and your dreams became increasingly indecipherable from reality. First, there was Paul, your sweet Paul, his rich, dark curls falling in his face. The look of tenderness on his face warmed you up from the inside out. Then, the smooth, naked skin of Feyd-Rautha, his piercing eyes sending chills all down your body.

In this dream, you were in bed. Were they, taking turns with you? Feyd was waiting patiently by the bed, while Paul was kissing you all over. You were naked and breathless, trembling, even.

Paul had moved his face between your legs, flicking his Fremen blue eyes up at you. He started to lap his tongue between your folds. But it seemed that Feyd was having a difficult time only watching. As Paul sucked at the tiny bundle above your opening, you felt the bed sink at your side.

Feyd placed his big hand on your head, smoothing your hair back. He traced his fingers along your face, trailing down your chin, your chest, all to cup your breast in his hand. You gasped as he pinched your nipple.

Paul nibbled and kissed your inner thighs and rubbed your clit with his fingers.

You noticed Feyd's other hand at his waistband, and he pulled his pants down. Your eyes met his pale, veiny cock as he brought it to your lips. You opened your mouth, obediently, inviting his length. You moistened him with your saliva, sucking as best as you could.

Paul was moving up your body, his lips traveling along your stomach. He too, cupped your breast. Each man held your breasts, and your nipples hardened against their palms.

Paul's face was now close to yours as you had Feyd's cock in your mouth. He watched you, adjusted his body between your legs. You could then feel the tip of his cock prodding at your wet entrance.

You were then in a horny daze as you were abruptly woken by a servant barging into your bedroom.

"Sorry to wake you, my lady, but it is time for dinner."

"Who gave you the right to barge into my room while I'm sleeping?" you barked, rubbing the sleep out of your eyes.

"Well, His Majesty, the Emperor, does, my lady."

You rolled your eyes, "Of course he does."

…….

That evening at dinner, you didn’t sit next to Paul, you didn’t talk to him, you didn’t even look at him. You wanted him to feel your absence, your neglect of him. He had been cold and rude toward you, so why should you warm up to him?

As you ate, you looked over at Gurney Halleck, sensing something about him. You were nearly positive you were being watched with Feyd-Rautha earlier. Gurney was behind it, you were certain. But why? Was it Gurney acting alone in his suspicion of you? Or did Paul put this into place?

As the meal ended, you made it a point to get up from your chair and simply head back to your room, without trading words or even a glance with Paul. No Bene Gesserit tricks, as you promised. You would get him to come to you, if he so wished, the natural way. Deprivation.

It was nary a moment after you closed your bedroom door before there was a knock. You knew who it was. You opened the door, “Paul.”

“Y/n.” said the Emperor. “Are you alright? I heard you spent the whole afternoon in your room. You did not come to council. Are you ill?”

“No, I am not ill. You should not bother yourself with worry about me, Paul Atreides. You have much more important duties.”

“You know you are important to me.” he said, resting his hand on the door frame. “You are my one true friend. As long as you are alive, I will care for you. That is all this is.”

“A true friend? Is that why you sent a spy for me?”

@gatoenlaciudad @thebetawolfgirl @musicandbooksaremyhappyplace @softhecreator @tchalamss @lixzey @bitchyunknownuser @ducktapebar @aoi-targaryen @yukideadinside @elloise0 @thatoneweirdgirl17 @mel-vaz @sammy-halpert @iwishchalamet @that-one-fangirl69 @jindongdongie @briefkittenearthquake

[rottencherrypie]

R-18+; The King's Whore (Thorin x Fem!Reader)

Summary - Before reclaiming Erebor, the king had propositioned you to become his personal whore, a proposition which was rather beneficial on both sides. However, it appears you have forgotten who owns you and now all of Erebor and its' visitors must know that you are the king's whore.

Warnings - Smut, afab reader, female reader, degradation, harassment, xenophobia (brief), possessiveness, teasing, slapping, choking, bodily fluids, unprotected sex, spanking (brief), kinda-dom!thorin(?),kinda-dom!reader(?), semi-public sex, being called a whore (an unhealthy amount of times), thorin whimpering, creampie, (brief) mention of a womb.

Pronouns & Pov - She/her, third-person-ish

Word Count - 4,100+

A/N - An old smut from my old Tumblr account, I honestly do not remember a single word I wrote back then...it's good to be back <3 (I swapped phones so I no longer have the collage I originally used with this, I will make a new one soon)

Read on AO3 Read on Wattpad

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It had been mere months since the painstakingly long journey to reclaim the kingdom of Erebor had come to fruition. The terrifying battle nearly took your lover and his beloved nephews from this realm but by the grace of the gods, you had managed to swoop in and save them one by one. The scars on your body, ranging from large to small were a reminder of how lucky all of you were to be breathing.

A soft smile graced your lips at the thought of each dwarf sleeping peacefully within the large stone walls, walls that shielded out everyone else except for you. You were the only exception when it came to humans, according to the company you had traveled with, all doubts had ceased to exist from their minds though you could not say the same for the rest of their people.

Some had shown you great hospitality, it often debated if it were for your association to the king or for your bravery on the battlefield, while others showed you relentless cruelty. Shared cruelty both you and a rather familiar she-elf had grown to endure, none thinking of how the pair of you had thrown your lives away for the safety of their people yet they were often quick to judge on how those who stood before you did nothing for those before them.

A sudden frown spread upon your lips at the sudden reminder of those awful words the pair of you were often called, many ranging from outrageous to simply hissing 'human' or 'elf' in your directions, though there was one supposed insult that always forced a knowing grin onto your soft lips. The king's whore.

Little had they known, you had earned this title far before you had stepped foot into Erebor. They would never know nor accept that it was the king's suggestion to aid him during his sleepless nights, to give him momentary relief up against a tree, or to share your tastes upon each other's tongue.

No, to them you corrupted their poor king the moment the battle was over for your selfish gain, many reminding you through a slum of insults they would never accept you and you would never be their queen. A title you did not care for and you could easily have cast away with a few words to your lover, as you had made clear to him and all of Erebor; the title of their queen was pathetic compared to being his whore.

Many believed being his queen would give them more power than some measly whore could ever gain yet here you were, sitting across some of the most powerful rules in middle earth as they sought out your opinion, a simple whore, to aid them for future conquests. On top of keeping the king's bed warm, you kept their kingdom and many other kingdoms safe yet no one would ever credit you with that.

"Is there anything you wish to add, Y/N?" The soft tone suddenly anchored you back to reality, a quiet hum escaping your lips as your eyes raised the rouge-colored fabric that hung loosely around your lap. The form-fitting outfit, one you had chosen to get a rise out of the dwarven king, a form of revenge for him leaving you craving his touch and taste all so he could go back to his pointless paperwork.

"If all is well with his highness, then I have nothing else to add." Your melodic words falling gracefully upon his ears, the corners of his slightly chapped lips turning upwards into a proud smile. "Then it is settled." The dwarven king announced, slamming his bare palm against the dark-oak table allowing the men to rise from their seats to commune with one another.

Many coming to his side to compliment him on retrieving his home, a compliment he often reflected onto you yet this time he didn't. As he glanced across the table, his calloused hand stretched out, prepared to introduce you in a way he often did, he noticed you were talking to another. Not just another dwarf, they knew better than to do so without his permission, but another man. This alone would be fine if you were not flirting with him!

The tips of your fingers softly kissing his lightly scar-tattered arms as your plump lips curved upwards into a smile, your jewel-colored eyes sparkling as you took in each boring word the man spoke. To the king's displeasure, you wrapped a soft palm around his upper arm and allowed a soft giggle to escape your lips, a similar action that had sparked his proposal for you to be his whore and only his.

"Excuse me." The muttered words barely caught his company's ears as he quickly rose, his limbs moving on their own towards your direction as the light behind his eyes quickly began to match the shade of your dress. "And that's when I-oh hello your highness," The male began, a knowing smile painted upon his lips. "I was just telling your whore about my latest journey." The words flying out of his mouth far too comfortably, the palm which loosely wrapped around his upper arm suddenly released whilst you backed away in disgust. How dare he call you that? Only your king could refer to you as such!

"I beg your pardon?" The words passing through the king's gritted teeth, though he was furious at you for flirting with another male, the rage he had felt when your title slipped through his lips was far more powerful. "Your whore, how much gold for a night with her?" A smug grin spread upon his grimy face, a grin he wished to wipe clean from his face with his sword. "My whore, is not for sale. She will not warm anyone else's bed other than my own." The low growl sending a sharp shiver down your spine, you could not deny the effect his possessiveness had upon you.

Your breath hitched in the back of your throat as the king inched closer to the lower-class male, eyes burning blazes far more powerful than Smaug's breath. "You shall refer to her as Y/N or her highness and only as such, the title of my whore is meant for myself and myself alone." His fingers tightly clung around his thumb, chest rising and falling quickly as his gaze burnt further holes into his competitor's skull. "If you wish to leave Erebor intact, I highly suggest you do so. Understood?" The opposite male quickly bobbed his head, face draining of all color the moment the king's harsh tone caught his ear.

"Good, now get out of my sight." And with those words, the male quickly scurried off leaving you with the fuming king. "Outside, now." Another low growl further dampened the undergarments that rested between your thighs. Without the chance to respond, he quickly dragged you out of the meeting halls without the notice nor the care of others around him.

"What did you think you were doing?" Hissing as he shoved you up against the cold stones, your words quickly catching in your throat as the glint in his eyes grew darker. "You know what, my whore? I simply do not care now, it appears someone has forgotten who she belongs to." The hot air on the nape of your bare neck forced you to swallow a mouthful of air, the burning fury within his ocean eyes furthering the lust you had towards him.

"No clever comment? Or are you too overwhelmed by your pathetic need to be full of cock already?" The sensation of his rough calloused hand inching up your thigh caused your breath to hitch in the back of your throat, your lust-filled eyes boring back into his enraged ones. "Thorin, we should stop. Someone could spot us-" "If they do let them watch, you are mine and all of middle earth will know it when I get done with you." The once silent halls filled with the sudden tearing of your panties, the damped fabric sprawled onto the murky ground beneath you.

A small pathetic gasp escaped your plump lips as his fingertips grazed your sensitive clit, excruciatingly sensitive due to his highness's neglect towards it in favor of his work. "Look at you, so responsive already. Such a good whore for me." A proud smile spread upon his lips as a singular thick finger traced a path down your drenched cunt, the very tip slowly delving inside of your soaked walls before slipping away.

An irritated sigh slipped through your lips as you attempted to lower yourself down upon it, your movements quickly stalled by his harsh grasp digging into your left hip. "Ah, ah, ah." He tutted pulling his finger further away from your soaked cunt. "Only good whores get pleasure, have you been a good whore?" "I always am-ah!" A harsh thwack against your clit forced your entire body to tremble. "Wrong answer." His cock stirring against the tight fabric he called trousers at your pathetic whines.

The continued thwacks against your sopping pussy echoed throughout the empty halls, soft whines and desperate pleads filled the king's ears amongst his torturous touches. "Oh please, your highness! I'll do anything you desire, please use me. I need it so badly." The pathetic excuse for words choked out of your swollen lips, each thwack digging your teeth further into the tip of your upper lip. "Anything?" A mischievous smirk spread upon his lips, your neediness was a sight, a rare one yet one he adored more than any treasure in all of middle earth.

The blur of your beautiful hair caught his eyes, he had trained you to be his perfect cock whore so well. "Face the wall, legs spread wide." His hot breath was suddenly removed from your neck as he backed away from you. "Now." His command jolted you up from the wall, legs trembling in an attempt to keep you steady as you quickly spun around.

"Such a good little whore." He hummed lowly while he kneaded your plump arse. "My good little whore." The soft tickle of his beard against your neck allowed a small giggle to slip between your lips. Finally, you were getting what you wanted. Arching your back downwards, you pressed your covered arse further into his calloused palms receiving an appreciative groan from him. "Needy today, aren't we?" Though you could not see it, you could feel the smile upon his lips due to the amusement dripping from his words.

"I am always needy for you, my king." A silent whine disrupting your words as the king's rough hands roamed beneath your skirts, a harsh thwack on your plump arse forced a choked moan out of your lips. "Must you tease me?" You whined slightly louder than desired, all care you had for getting caught slowly inching out of your mind as you thought of the inches between the king's legs.

"Patience, my dear whore." The king hummed lowly as his hands continued to further explore your desperate form, gliding over each curve and ounce of your body. Each bump and rough patch of skin received a momentary hover of the king's hands, some ounces in small circles, before gliding to the next mass of flesh, admiring and loving each scar and imperfection your body held.

Though it typically warmed your heart knowing how much his highness adored you and the things you have done for him, now was not the time you wanted him to be gentle with you nor receive any praises from him. You needed him badly, you needed him now.

Further pressing your plump arse into his large palm, you slowly began to roll your hips in a desperate attempt for him to gift you with any form of pleasure. "You know you want to." The words dripping with lust, your low sultry tone causing his aching cock to twitch against those damn restraints he called trousers.

"Is that so? What else do I want to do, if you are so clever?" As you opened your mouth to answer his inquiry you felt the sudden shift of your skirts going upwards. "Go on, whore. Speak." "I-oh fuck!" Your attempt to form words dying off on your tongue at the sudden pressure between your legs, the tip of his throbbing cock slowly pressing into your soaked cunt without fair warning.

A small gasp of pleasure escaping your lips as his throbbing cock continued to push further inside of you, the gentle stretch of your walls allowed your eyes to loop upwards into your skull. "Shit, Thorin." The pathetic little mewls from his pulsating cock deep within you sounded more heavenly than any instrument's tune before, a pleased grin spreading upon his lips as he bucked his hips upwards allowing his cock to further stretch out your soaking cunt.

"Such a good little whore, taking all of me so easily." The muttered words against your neck sending a shiver down your spine, the soft tickle of his beard against your bare neck was accompanied by gentle nips at the curve of your soft neck. The bucking of his hips stalled at a gentle pace allowing you time to adjust to the heavenly stretch inside of you, each fiber of his being burning as he restrained himself from further carving his cock inside of you.

The attempts to allow you to adjust quickly failed as you backed your hips against his, your soaking cunt squeezing around his throbbing cock with each movement. "Fuck." He groaned tilting his head backward, eyes closed at the heavenly sensation as his hands roamed up your body before resting snugly around your throat.

Your eyes widening at the gentle pressure that surrounded your neck, the warmth which radiated off of his palms soothing the faint bite marks given mere moments before. "Be a good whore and stay still." The roughness in his voice further drenching your aching cunt, a tone you had heard once before he pulled out of you and left you there, desperate and begging for the smallest touch from him.

The squelch of your drench cunt accompanied the sound of skin slapping against each other throughout the stone halls, your pleased moans ever so slightly muffled by the king's hands clenching around your throat. The pair tightening as his movements grew faster, his cock hitting the most sensitive spots deep within you with every stroke.

Though he was not mighty when it came to his height, his cock was far different, much larger and thicker than you had ever dreamt of. The faint sting of it stretching you out upon entrance far too heavenly for words to describe, a statement you had once told him only to be met by his mocking as you sobbed on his throbbing cock that very night at the intensive stretch he gave you.

"So fucking tight, so tight for me." He growled lowly into your ear as the thrusts of his hips became harder and quicker, your hands desperately clawing against the smooth walls as each rough thrust further carved his cock into your inner walls. "All for you, Thorin." The words choked out weakly as your eyes looped upwards within your skull, your mouth agape as each thrust allowed a moan to escape.

"Who's pussy is this? Fucking say it." Another low growl greeted your ease whilst he rammed his cock deeper in your depth, hitting the most sensitive part of your core with each powerful stroke. "It's your pussy, Thorin. It's all yours." You sobbed loudly, a familiar tingling spreading up from your toes throughout your entire body as a knot formed within the pit of your belly.

"What was that, whore? I couldn't hear you!" The pressure against your neck slightly eases before a harsh thwack fell upon your arse, your body jolting forwards at the sudden sensation as a whimper suddenly left your lips. "You own my pussy, Thorin!" You yelped out, your loud cries bouncing throughout the large halls. Any concern of your peers hearing your slutty cries melted out of your pleasure-filled mind, your only thoughts on how harshly the king was treating your pussy. The knot within your stomach tightening further, your cunt clenching around the massive cock buried within you.

"AH!" His rough thumb began toying with your throbbing bundle of nerves, his animalistic thrusts refusing to ease up on your beaten pussy as your body trembled before him. Sweaty palms gliding down the cold walls, back arched further towards him as his calloused hand clenched tighter around your throat. "Fuck, I can't." You choked out another whine as both of his movements became sloppier, soft grunts escaping his lips as your pussy began to pulsate around his swollen cock.

"Cum." He commanded lowly, his hips beginning to burn at the pace of his animalistic thrusts. Each thrust ramming his cock at the most sensitive spot in your body, his thumb perfectly circling the tense bundle of nerves between your legs. "I can't." He snarled at your pathetic whine, the circles from his thumb quickly removed by a harsh smack against your throbbing clit.

"I said fucking cum, whore! Do it, cum for me. Now!" A loud yell escaping your lips as your body trembled, the static sensation spreading upon your body as the knot within your belly finally burst. His sturdy hand moving from your clit to your chest to keep your trembling form steady whilst you gushed around his cock, a proud smile spread upon his lips as his thrusts began to slow. "That's a good whore, cumming for her king." He cooed softly, his hand moving from your neck to caress your cheek whilst your walls fluttered around him.

The cool air filled your lungs as your gasps returned to steady breaths, your tense shoulders slumping towards your sides as a blissful look spread across your face. "I've got you." His words came out as a soft chuckle as he pressed a gentle kiss upon your neck, a soft nod of the head signaling him you were prepared to go again.

"Are you sure, Y/N? You nearly collapsed there." The back of his rough hand gently caressing your cheek. "Please, Thorin. You need your release as well." A mischievous smile spreading upon your lips, without warning you began to move forwards before lowering yourself back down on his length allowing a bliss-filled moan to slip through both of your lips.

The temporarily silent halls quickly filled back with the sound of skin slapping against each other yet again, the much softer rhythm accompanied by the faint moans from the king. "Fuck, you feel so good." He moaned into your ear as you met his soft thrusts by pushing your ass further against him, the hands which once held your neck now squeezing one of yours and gripping the flesh on your hip.

Each throb and thrust allowed your body to tremble, the aftershock of your orgasm still rang fresh throughout your body. His thrusts slowed down in speed as he squeezed your palm tightly, eyes glued shut allowing him to further absorb the sensations of your squelching pussy.

"You fuck me so good, my king." You cooed, squeezing his palm back as you further bounced yourself on his cock knowing well he was not short from falling into the depths of his pleasure, the slow teasing circles your hips would trace whilst on the base of his cock sent a loud groan throughout the halls.

"Fuck, Y/N. If you keep that up I'll-" A soft whimper slipping through his lips as you released his hand from yours, both palms planted firmly on the wall as you continued to ram yourself back against his throbbing cock. "Do it, my king. Cum for me." The sight of your arse bouncing upon his cock and your encouraging words almost too much for the lust-stricken king.

His sturdy arms wrapping around your waist tightly as he held you steady, his pace gradually picking up as his whimpers rang throughout Erebor. "Fuck, I want to fill you up so badly." His whines in your ear were your favorite tune, much like your desperate moans and whimpers to him, it was one no instrument could compare to nor recreate.

"You want to fill up your whore's pussy? Would that make my king happy?" You hummed out softly between moans, the heavy slap of skin against each other speeding up as he bobbed his head against your neck. "Please." His pathetic little whines making your pussy flutter around him, a single hand trailing down back towards your cunt and greeting your bundle of nerves yet again.

"Then do it, your highness. Fill me up with your cum." The moment that heavenly tune left your lips he began to plow into you faster, sweat glistening upon his forehead as his thumb swirled around your sensitive bundle of nerves, desperate to get one more orgasm out of you during his own.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck!" The loud cries of the king ringing out throughout his kingdom as his grip around your waist tightened, his body slumping further into yours as his hips bucked roughly into yours, his thumb still twiddling around that sensitive bundle of nerves he adored so deeply bringing you to yet another blinding orgasm.

White-hot ribbons painting the deepest depths within your womb, the overwhelming sensation of being filled to the brim made your nails puncture his toned arms. A soft hiss escaped his lips at the new puncture wounds, ones he would later claim he received during battle, and hoped the stirring of his cock would not give the truth away.

Trembling bodies clinging onto one another tightly, your nails still digging into his toned flesh while your lips curved up into a looped smile. "Thank you." He muttered softly, kissing the nook of your neck between pants for the cooling air. "Anytime, my king." You cooed happily, glazed-over eyes staring back at one another as your soft lips met his.

A tender moment erasing all images of the day before from both minds, simple orgasmic peace within you was all the new king needed in these silent moments, moments he wished he wasn't required to end. "Ready to return to our guests, my whore?" He hummed softly, pulling his softened cock out of your warm depths. A soft disappointed whimper escaped your lips at the sudden departure, wishing to have nothing more but a few more moments or hours with him.

"If it were up to me, my king, we wouldn't return till neither of us could walk." The soft mutter barely catching his ear, your attention now focused on fixing your disheveled appearance before facing the men in the other room. "After this, you will have me all to yourself until the next full moon." His lips gracing yours again for another few blissful seconds, the soft sensation easing all tension and worries from your body.

"I suppose I can bear with our guests for a few moments longer." A pleased smile creeping up onto your face causing the king to shake his head, both knowing well this would not be the first outburst towards him.

"Come along then." The sturdy thumps of his heavy boots ringing throughout the halls as you walked by his side, hands tightly wrapped around the other. "Oh, and before I forget." Pausing a few feet from the large metal doors in front of you, watching curiously as his opposite hand delved into his furs. "Remember, I own you, whore." Your body froze seeing your soaked panties in his clutches, a mischievous glint sparkling within his ocean orbs whilst he quickly tucked it away.

The soft clicks of his boots brought you out of your shocked daze alongside the sudden trickle of cum rolling down your inner thighs, a heavy heat quickly burning beneath your cheeks as you rushed after the mischievous king. "Thorin! Give those back to me this instant!" Your yells bouncing off the walls whilst you attempted to grab within his robes, his amused chuckles only fueling your desperate attempts to cover your bare cunt.

"You said it yourself, my lovely whore. I own your pussy and as the owner of it, I want it bare at all times." The smug grinning king pressed a soft kiss upon your cheek before waltzing into the meeting room ever so calmly as if him pounding into you mere moments ago was simply a figment of your imagination, you trailing close behind him with your gaze pointed towards the floor.

His hot cum further staining your inner thighs as you took your spot next to him, a calm smile spread upon your lips as you remembered his words. 'you will have me all to yourself until the next full moon.' How he would regret his actions at nightfall, if he wished to play dirty you could as well.

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[thechibifoxcub]

I can’t take it-

He couldn’t take it anymore. The pain. The anguish. His blood ran like molten lava beneath his skin; feeling every vein traversing beneath muscle tissue and winding sinew.

His breath felt weak yet heavy at the same time. Something that shouldn’t coexist by any means, but still does despite its unrealistic design. The analogy doesn’t make sense- it shouldn’t make sense! But how can he describe the sensation that plagues him?

It must be pain… right? How else can he describe the adrenaline rushing in his body each time his eyes landed on you? He must be ill if the sudden rush of heat dusts his neck and ears each time you smiled in his direction. His mind must be loosing its grasp of reality with every syllable that dances past your lips or when the sound of your unapologetic laughter sings a sweet tune in his corrupted ears.

He must have been in pain; surely he must have been injured or poisoned or tortured in some past life from eons-past. Surely he is dwelling in some sick, twisted form of hell. His own personal prison cell. How else can he explain this newfound revelation of emotions each time his mind drifted back to you.

You.

You, who has brought some semblance of humanity back into him.

You, who has brought forth his demons and have withstood each one with a smile one your face. Like you were happy to have seen his flaws. His imperfections. His sins. To have been overjoyed to have witnessed each deplorable side of him as if it was a gift. Fought against them and (surprisingly) won when he, himself, has failed to beat them on a good day.

You, who has never left him. Never doubted him despite the lies that flow past chattering teeth. He hates himself for every word that brings you pain or that pitiful frown on your pretty lips.

He’s in agony. Because he knows that if he were to sit down and actually think about this for one second longer he’d realize that what he’s feeling isn’t anguish, but something opposite. Something softer. Sweeter. Delectable even.

He can’t take this anymore. Not after watching the crystal-like tears that now streamed past your redden cheeks after he snapped at you for something that you didn’t even do. He can’t take it anymore. He just can’t. The magma that flows through his veins hardens like coal with each drop of a salty sorrow-filled tear that drops past clenched fists and furrowed brows. The breathe that once conflicted against all reason began to cease as your once brilliant smile turned sour with anger and hurt.

He can’t take it anymore; the pain he means, as you turn your back to him for the first time since you waltzed into his once dark and lonely existence. He was in pain as he reached out in a pitiful display of remorse and fear as you stormed away into the distance.

“Misery loves company after all~” he once told himself. How he wish he could turn back time just once- to take back what he had said. To stop himself from saying things that you didn’t deserve. You had only wanted to help him. You were a kind soul, practically a Saint! And here he was, convicting you of a “crime” that you had not committed. His one sanctuary. His oasis. His SALVATION.

He can’t take it anymore. And he will do whatever it took to make it up to you.

[This is the first time I’m posting anything here so I’m sorry for any mistakes! Doing this on 3-4 hours of sleep so I apologize for any errors you might see lol. This is could be seen as an “open ending” sort of thing so take it how you see fit. Also, this can go to any person/character that you fancy, but I mainly thought of Genshin Impact/Honkai Star Rail characters and Leon Kennedy from The RE series.]

[diacripticcomplex]

Shu x Yandere Yui

Shu's Pov:

We spent days looking for Edgar...I mean Yuma but he actually was Edgar, I still could not fathom the fact he was alive after all these years I was convinced he was dead. After the fire he set for me to prove my love for her he had completely vanished, without a trace as if he was never here to begin with. I think I'm starting to go insane..I sigh out loud, even my music was helping me, I was not able to sleep without having this constant thought on my mind, I yearned to find him I had so many questions that I want to ask him, this is the first time in a long time that I have wanted to actually converse again. I guess I was too much in my head, I kept hearing my name being called out and it zoned me back to reality.

"Shu..? Hey..Shu..?" she was calling out for me. I looked at her. "Yeah?" I replied back, she began saying something, about finding Yuma and trying again but I was not really paying attention. I found myself zoning back into my thoughts as she spoke to me. It was foolish really, we won't find Edgar..I mean Yuma again, this is pointless, I sigh out in annoyance. " Shut up already..Leave me alone.." I tell her, I didn't want her to get more involved with this and me anymore, if she keeps getting close to me she will just end up in the same predicament as that guy too, I don't care if I stop drinking her blood, I love her so I have to protect her this way. She might not understand but this is the only way.

I've been in my room all these weeks, avoiding her, avoiding everyone and everything, it was all so pointless, I wasn't even hungry..this feeling was familiar..Another knock on my door, probably from her again. I didn't answer, I needed to get away from this manor for a bit.

I decided to leave for a few weeks, without telling anyone, not even her. I knew it was stupid but I still had a glimmer of hope left in me that I would be able to find him, I searched the deep forests, and mountains, by the ocean as well, nothing. I ventured into the demon world as well, no one heard anything, it is as if the name Mukami ceased to exist. Time works differently in the demon world. A month quickly turned into a year when I arrived back at the manor.

When I returned I wanted to just crawl into my bed and sleep, I was truly exhausted..this is the most I've been energized in years..I walked past her room and it was as if she could sense me walking by because her door opened, she looked at me with such sorrow in her eyes, I gave her nothing but a blank stare, my love did not die for her, it was simply closed off, I'm a creature that harms everything it goes near, I do not deserve her and I do not wish to see her in pain but she looked gravely saddened. "You left..no one heard from you in so long and you just left without a trail...I was so worried." She cried to me. "I do not have to explain myself..leave me be, I'm tired." I told her, I could see she wanted to say something but stopped herself, she nodded then smiled strangely, it was a twisted smile, unsettled by this, I went to my room and closed my eyes.

I believe a few days or maybe weeks had gone by, no one came to my door or bothered me at all, it was strange, the usual chaoticness of my brothers was at an all time low, as if no one was here, it was too quiet. I finally got up from my bed and the sight I saw when I opened the door shocked me, there was writing on the walls of the hallway that said "I love you" " I did this for us." , in deep red, it smelled like fresh blood, my first thought was Laito or Kanato went insane but then I felt my heart drop, did they hurt her??!

I felt adrenaline hit, in cold sweat I ran to find her. This cannot be happening again, I do not want to lose her too..I kept repeating this to myself, please let her be alive, please make sure she is unharmed, I found her in the dining room, all of my brothers were there, all of them lifeless, sitting in the chairs. She was there drinking a cup of tea and it smelled like, "Shu, you've made it.." she said smiling warmly at me, I was horrified.. "Why did you do this?" I asked her. "You don't understand..I found Yuma, but your brothers did not want you to see him..they were getting in the way." She said to me, it feels off though, I couldn't tell if she was being truthful or not but I decided to trust her.

She offers to take me to him, so I follow her down to the dungeon..strange place to keep him. "Why would he be here..?" I asked her, trying to not make my suspicion obvious. She gave a shitty explanation and honestly I was not buying it..I wanted to get out of there, before I could leave she stabbed me right before my heart so I knew I wasn't going to die but it hurt horribly, then she locked me up in a cell, making sure to restrain my hands. She took the blade and cut her wrist then licked the blood from the wound, kissing me deeply, feeding me her warm oozing blood, I've missed how hot it was, I wanted more but she pulled back and left.

"Let me out.." I told her, then I began screaming it but she was just walking away, before she shut the door she said in a whisper "Now, you'll never leave me.."

[cringefail-clown]

I'm so fucking invested in your turnabout au I'm going to explode please just like ramble if you up to it

hoo boy lets do it

so atm my favourite part of the au to think about is post scratch bro and his relationship with hal, post scratch roxy and what dave would think about him. like for example i don't think he'd be this big superstar like post scratch dave was in canon, his work against the condence would be much more subtle. i imagine him working much more closely with roxy and grandpa jake - its not clear in canon how much dave, rose and jade collaborated together, they for sure were in contact, but its honestly up to interpretation. those three in the au would probably work very closely together, maybe roxy and dirk could help jake with building up skaianet - dirk as an engineer and rox as a programmer. they'd also have their own gigs on the side, roxy would sure as hell hijack crocercorp with malware every chance she got, and dirk would have some obscure websites that'd spread propaganda against condence under the veil of weird puppet stuff and insane chatbots. he'd probably write some kind of this universes detective pony parody book and get it published and it'd become one of the most recognisable pieces of literature documenting the takeover of the troll empire and the rebellion against it

(some quick designs of hal and bro i pulled outta my ass)

honestly he'd probably become some sort of vigilante batman-esque figure in this universe?? he'd show up unexpected, blow some crockercorp warehouses and disappear into the night. and after hal joins him when he builds him a body the media would paint them as some sort of twin antiheroes lmfao

oh man and hal. it'd go simialrly as it was in canon, dirk would fuck around and copy his brain at a young age and they'd HATE each other at first. like dirk would feel responsible for creating hal, and hal would resent the shit outta him - like how dare he be the one who gets to keep the body and hal must be stuck in a pair of glasses, trapped with no means of escaping? but they'd start working together when they find out about dave and the future to ensure their lil bro has the best chances of survival, and in time they'd bond over it and their shared work against condy. they'd come up with a plan so that hal goes into sleep mode until the arrival of the meteor (bc no way in hell dirk would make hal go through hundreds of years of lonely existance, watching as humanity slowly ceases to exist and unable to do anything about it, he'd go nuts).

and the day finally comes when dirk would have to go face the batterwitch so he'd put hal in the apartment and they would tell each other one last goodbye and dirk would put hal in the sleep mode. and hal would wake up like only seconds passed, not years upon years, only the vast ocean streching as far as his eyes could see behind the dirty, dusty windows, and he'd know his one brother is long dead, gone while facing the enemy he was destined to lose against but had to do it anyway, and the other one moments from crashing into the waters below on a meteor sent by some insane video game that creates new universes. he'd sit there for a while, reality slowly sinking in, and he'd probably desperatly wish like he hasn't in years, to be human again and to mourn his losses the human way, because as advanced as his robotic body was he haven't thought about updating it with some goddamn tearducks.

on a lighter note, imagine dirk crunching numbers for three days straight to figure out how much food he'd have to stock in the apartment to make sure dave doesn't grow up malnourished, desperately googling "how much calories does an *insert age* year old need". he'd be banned from every supermarket in at least two states. he would walk into the store and employees would start weeping at the sight of him. i think about it a lot

[maripr]

Ozcarnation merge musings from my twitter

I wrote these months ago and finally sharing them on tumblr.

Why I differentiate between Ozma and Ozpin, a 🧵

I disagree with the general interpretation of where the merge subplot is actually heading in canon: most people think it will actualize, I think it will be reversed, either stopping the merge for good or reversing it after it comes very briefly into reality.

Oscar's arc, paralleling Ruby (mainly, but other characters share the trait as well) has been about him trying to find his own place and his own story, but the shadow of supposed ego death is always looming on him and terrifying him.

Everytime he takes a step forward, he's reminded again of the expected fate for him, something that some characters actively want (like Ironwood).

Examples:

volume 6, after being treated as a stand-in for Ozpin, currently MIA, Oscar takes his own decision to forgive the team and be prepared for battle alongside them. While reconciling with tem, with his new combat gear, he still can't help but be haunted of "how much time he has left".

Volume 7 places him in a conundrum the entire volume: he's developing as a fighter, growing up as an adolescent and forging stronger relationship with his newfound friends. Jaune clearly comes to see him as a little brother and there's something interesting going on with Ruby that may or may not result in a romantic relationship down the line. The team actually worries about his opinion on stuff as well, and Ruby clearly values him as Oscar Pine. Meanwhile, the very person who's helping in his growth is James Ironwood, who cannot shut up about wishing Ozpin was there everytime they meet, and telling Oscar he will basically cease to exist to his face with a big shiny smile. It's unclear at this point if James knows or not about how terrified Oscar is of the merge, as the boy never voices this fear. I think he just wants not to think of it. So even at the end, where James finally says "fuck it, Oscar or Ozpin, i don't need either" and shoots him, Oscar starts coming onto his power, in a scene that's both powerful and bittersweet, paralleling Penny.

Both of them, for their qualities, were chosen by a magical destiny, one capable of beautiful and powerful magic, that they don't want, never wanted and will struggle with with the next volume. Penny's arc is a direct parallel and commentary to Oscar and the way it ends might comment on Oscar's arc. Not in death but that Penny could finally show everyone she was her own person who could choose for herself.

Coming back to volume 8, Oscar has his worst time yet, finally voices his fear of merging with Oz, and comes back from it scarred but stronger, having helped Ozpin trust himself and others and gaining a new ally in Emerald.

But, see where I'm getting at? This is no resolution.

Oscar has briefly shown his fear but at the end of the volume, much like Ruby has done for several seasons, swallows the literal torture he endured for half of it and the fear of imminent ego death due to reawakened magic, and chooses to focus on the positives.

Boy, if he had fallen into the ever after maybe he would have healed too. Or maybe we would have no plot at all bc Oscar and Ruby would have noticed each other's pain, which would have been nice as well, but sometimes therapy has to be brutal.

And also Oscar can't conclude his arc in the ever after because his own is complimentary to Ruby's but also a contrast to it. Ruby wants to emulate her mother and ideal of what a hero is and must learn that she is enough as she is already. Oscar does NOT want to emulate or be his father figure, whose og incarnation was basically THE ideal hero of fairytales. He wants to be enough but doesn't know who he is yet, since everyone keeps telling him to his face that Oscar Pine isn't enough.

SO anyway. If both Penny (a commentary on Oscar) and Ruby (a direct parallel)'s arcs end with them realizing their own individuality, I 100% believe Oscar's arc will end like this as well.

And when i say end i mean end is just a new beginning.

Before moving to my final argument, let me also briefly comment on how Jaune and Weiss' arcs are similar but different to Oscar and Ruby's. It's interesting because, by main character status, Jaune as the leader of team JNPR, is a lancer and a foil to RWBY and Ruby inside of team RWBY's dynamic, Weiss, as Ruby's partner, is the lancer and foil to Ruby and inside new JNPR/ORNJ, Oscar, as Jaune's new partner, is his lancer and foil.

And both Jaune and Weiss deal with identity but more in a role they want to play as expected to what their family might want, initially, and later as the knights they idealized in fairytales. This is way too long for this post, but again, fascinating. And also Whiteknight slays.

So, my final thesis:

Oscar's arc will end with him affirming his own individuality over the merge.

So why can't Ozpin also do the same?

The god of light's intention in bestowing Ozma with this method of reincarnation was the positive idea of him never being alone.

And this works, more or less, in different lifetimes. Even in the very first, the farmer who we initially assumed was completely eradicated, still voiced his opinion and reminded Ozma of the good path.

In later lives, the spirit and the host lived more comfortably, having estabilished an equal partnership.

But... They still end up as one person? They're literally so like-minded that their enormous guilt complex makes one believe he's responsible for everything the others did?

I feel like this is what the story is trying to say, much like what many characters say of Oscar, and it's framed as a bad thing.

And incorrect. Oscar is always "punished" for what his predecessors did because he will be Ozma eventually.

The voice still going by the name of Ozpin feels responsible for everything that happened since Ozma was brought back to life and literally agrees with his own torturer that yep, he deserves all the punishment and pain for it.

Every incarnation eventually reaches a point where they start to identify with their predecessors in such a way that contradicts what the god of light's intention was (then again, we have been shown time and time again that the god of light is not very good at his job).

Instead of a partnership where each soul helps the other moving forward and never los hope, we have a continuous cycle of guilt and self-abuse accumulating. Oscar is gnawing at it the entire time. Who's to say Ozpin, as the professor, also didn't?

And Oscar is going to break the cycle.

As he does that, I want Ozpin to also realize his own individuality.

This is why I want an happy ending for all the incarnates, not just Ozma. Merged they may be for now, in the physical realm, why should only Ozma move on to a peaceful afterlife? All the people who ended up clogs in the ever ticking clock and had no say in it were all people with their own lives, their own friends and families, their own name. And they deserve peace too.

[siampie]

Finding You||Chapter 8

Pairing: Michael Kinsella x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 1.7k

Warnings/tags: Fluff and a hint of angst

A/N: Enjoy this chapter, you guys. Comments and reblogs are always welcomed, greatly advised and strongly appreciate.

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@flowher

Dividers by @cafekitsune

You both shared breakfast in the early hours of morning, both basking in the afterglow of the previous night. Enjoying the small bubble you had created for yourself for as long as you could. For a few hours, the outside world didn’t exist. Your families, your own issues ceased to exist. It was a brief moment of respite before reality would ultimately come crashing down.

You walked him to the door, “can’t you stay a little longer?”

“Wish I could but Frank called for a meeting,” Michael said, his hands taking a hold of your hips. “Got to deal with all the shite we just started. I’ll come find you as soon as I can, yeah?”

You nodded, “okay.” You slid your hands up his arms; to cup his face and you pressed your lips to his. In a soft kiss at first, his tongue had demanded entrance and quickly the kiss turned heated. As though the fire burning within you could not be put out. You moaned into his mouth when his right hand slid around your waist, and over your ass. Palming you through your sleeping shirt. You instinctively pressed your hips into his, feeling his half-hardened cock through his jeans. Your arms slid around his shoulders.

He pulled away, reluctantly, bringing his forehead to yours, “let’s not start something we can’t finish, Pet,” he panted out.

You let out a small laugh, sucking in your lips, “you’re right, let’s not.”

He smiled down at you, before leaning for another kiss, his hand squeezing your ass gently before letting go of you. You closed the door behind him, thinking about ways to busy your day before you could see him again.

You were elated, more than you’d ever felt before. After confessing your feelings for each other, you both decided to give it a go. To try and see where would this relationship go. It was probably unwise to start something new with Michael Kinsella of all people. Especially now that he had a bounty on his head. Now that he was a target, a man to be taken down. His family was now at war with Eamon Cunnigham. You were not stupid. You knew how dangerous this could be. How dangerous it truly was. Any man with a gun in Dublin, greedy for money or trying to make a name for themselves, would come looking for any of the Kinsellas and more so for Michael.

You were aware of how dangerous it was to start a new relationship with Michael. And yet—you couldn’t care less. No matter how dangerous or unwise it might be, you thought—you were convinced that it was worth the risks.

There was a freedom that came with your father’s death. Regretfully. You loved the man but you never felt as though you could be free for as long as he was alive. There was a responsibility and guilt that came with being the first-born daughter. Constant worries that you were not doing enough, slaving away to make sure the house was cleaned, that food was prepared. And on top of it all, you had to be an example for your younger siblings. You were raised to be strong and self-reliant which led you to feel lonely and isolated.

Your loneliness and isolation had slowly disappeared since you’d moved to Dublin. It first started with Birdy. The woman was sweet on you, always making sure that you were taken care of. She, too, was the first-born daughter of her family and naturally, she had taken on the part of the nurturing caregiver. It was in her nature. You were kindred spirits.

Although, afraid at first, you couldn’t help but take a liking in her. She was caring and took you under her wing pretty quickly. Making you feel less lonely and isolated.

And then came Michael.

There was a deep connection between the both of you. You couldn’t deny it, even if you tried. You both found solace in each other’s arms. You found peace and safety in his arms.

You felt understood in ways you had never been before. Although, a criminal, you had more in common with him than you had with anyone you’d met before. And maybe that was why it had been so easy to fall into bed with him. So easy to open yourself up to this man.

There was no judgment. Only understanding.

You couldn’t help the permanent smile on your face. Even if you tried.

It was crazy to think that you had to come to Dublin to find this level of understanding. To feel this deep connection with someone. You would think that moving to another country would isolate you more than anything. And yet.

You felt freer. More connected. Less lonely and isolated.

Free of this martyrdom that had been plaguing you for most of your life, you weren’t burdened by the constant worry of your family not being able to function without you anymore. The constant responsibility of pleasing and appeasing were no longer your cross to bear.

There was a true freedom that came with stepping out of that martyrdom of being the eldest daughter. To be able to let go of pressures and responsibilities, and all of the resentment and blame that often came with it.

It was still hard for you to do as much. There are things that were inherently ingrained in you; work hard, cater to everyone’s feelings, to people please. Those were things that you couldn’t just let go of. It was hard to.

But eventually, one day, you hoped you would get there.

Hair slightly damp from your recent shower, you opened your door to a smiling Birdy. She greeted with a wide smile as usual, and a plate.

“You know you don’t have to do this,” you told her as she followed you inside. “Especially, with everything that you have going on.”

“’S no trouble, really,” she waved you off. “Like takin care of ya, Pet.”

“And I appreciate it,” you smiled softly. “Tea?”

She nodded, “yeah,” and sat down at your small kitchen table. “You and Mikey are getting close,” she stated.

Caught off guard, you froze for a moment. Your heart started racing underneath your ribcage. As though you had been caught doing something you shouldn’t have. Bracing yourself for blame, perhaps, or something more.

You cleared your throat, and stuttered, “yeah—we—uh—we got to know each other a little.” Heat creeping up your face and neck. “He’s—a—huh—he’s been—very good to me,” you turned around to face her. “It doesn’t bother you, does it?”

“Not at all, dear,” Birdy stood up and walked up to you. She tucked your hair behind your ear, “I’m glad you and Mikey are gettin’ close to each other.” Your eyes roamed over her face, a soft and tender smile making its way onto her face, “I’ve seen how happy you’ve been makin’ Mikey. How happy he’s been makin’ you.”

“Yeah,” you huffed out a laugh. “He does. He—uh—we understand each other a lot, I guess. Makes it easy to get close.”

“He cares ‘bout ya.”

“I care about him too.”

“Good,” Birdy hummed happily.

“Are you sure you’re okay with this?” You questioned, “whatever it might be. It doesn’t bother you, does it?”

“It doesn’t bother me, pet,” Birdy patted your cheek softly. “And I’ll make sure to keep the others in line, if I have to.”

“I bet they won’t be as happy as you—when—” you sighed, “—once they know about it.”

“Don’t worry about it, dear,” she reassured you. “I’ll handle it.”

You weren’t worried about the others. Neither were you in a rush to meet any of them, really. You were perfectly fine with keeping your relationship with Michael as far away as possible from the rest of them. You weren’t fool enough to think that they won’t find out about it. Or want a say in it. But you’d rather face them further down the line.

You locked your door behind as you left the safety of your home. Your eyes inevitably drifting to Michael’s home. He had not come back yet. You’d figured he must be still dealing with the consequences of Caolan Moore’s death. They were probably getting everything in order, organizing themselves and their business. You didn’t know exactly, and you wouldn’t ask.

Walking down your street, you noticed the guards’ car that sat at the end of it. Reality was slowly crashing down on you. Those were the things you would have to live with. These were the sorts of things that the Kinsellas would bring to your life.

Could you live with this?

Strolling down the streets of Dublin, enjoying your lazy day, you had pushed all thoughts of your mother in the dark corner of your mind. Where she truly belonged. You had almost forgotten her and everything that came with her. The dread in the pit of your stomach, the tension in your shoulders, the irregular beating of your heart, the shortness of your breath. Those were the things you always seemed to feel when she was in your life. Her presence burdened you with dread and anxiety.

It was so easy for her to make you feel this way. And you hated it. You hated how much power she had over you.

When thoughts of her came to your mind, and you inevitably tried to remember her features, it was fuzzy. Always. You couldn’t remember how her nose curved, or if she had moles on her face. Or how big her eyes were, or even what her smile looked like. You couldn’t remember any of those things.

And yet—

Why, while you were there, rooted to your spot in the middle of the crowd, across the street, did you recognize her so easily? Before you could even catch a glimpse of her face, why did you know it was her? Like a rock, your heart dropped. The wind got knocked out of you. You should be moving. Run away. You didn’t want her to see you. You didn’t want her to know you were there.

But you couldn’t.

It was your mother. She was right across the street. And after so many years of not seeing her, it felt like a miracle to have her within reach. You weren’t going to reach out to her. But you wanted to.

Your breath hitched in your throat when her eyes locked onto yours. And in a moment of panic, you fled.

Your mother was in Dublin.

Like a freight train, reality just crashed into you.

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[midnightsun-if]

Ahhhh! I just read the MC death questions, author, why did you pull my heart strings like that…but now I want to ask what would be going through the RO’s and the family mind at MC funeral if they didn’t survive?

BEFORE

Koda: Why did this happen? This shouldn’t have happened. Clenched hands press tightly into his thighs, bottom lip wobbling with the force of his thoughts. His bear, that normally lays contentedly dormant within his chest, roars out in the shared agony between them both. Tears, that had not ceased since he had lost you, overwhelm his vision in a murky film, but he no longer has the strength to wipe them away. Why did this happen? Why wasn’t I faster?

Scarlett: No thoughts are prevalent within her mind, everything just a complete echo chamber of her grief, of her enraged agony. Emerald eyes stare unseeingly, having nothing worth looking at any longer, towards the front of the church, only barely aware of the hand still clasped to her shoulder, keeping her in place, keeping the monster within her in check, but she could feel it clawing at her chest even now, just waiting for the chance to finally be free once more. To make sure the world understood the pain, the rage, that’s currently boiling within her, to showcase the heartless beast she had become the moment her mate had been taken from her. No thoughts were present, because she had stopped existing the moment you did.

Cyrus/Cyra: Failure. Failure. Failure. The single word, the single taunt, is all that they register. A simple truth that they had deluded themself into believing wasn’t one, that they had let themself think they could be more: You’re not that, my darling Phoenix. You’re so much more. The words, echoed within your sweet tone, from days that had long since passed, fill their mouth with an acidic twang, settled over their tongue with the same bitterness that wells within their chest. Something that used to bring them comfort, a reprieve from the weight they carried, only brought them pain now, because you were wrong. Wrong to think that they were anything else, that they were anything more, for how could they not be? If they were more then you’d still be here. They would still have you.

Quinn: You need to rest. They wouldn’t want this. It’s the last shred of humanity pleading with them, hoping that the reminder of their mate would stem the ongoing rage, the ongoing agony, but it didn’t. In fact, it only made things worse— the reminder of what had been lost sending a bitter anger coursing through their veins. Claws extended, teeth bared, they plunge deeper and deeper into the forest, away from what they had left, from the place their mate rested, trying to put distance from reality, to get lost within the confines of nature. But, nothing would be able to keep them from their broken heart. Nothing would stop the enraged howl from ripping itself from their chest. Nothing would stop their pain, their anger, their grief. Because the thing that would, was far behind them buried six feet deep into the ground.

Caden: It’s not fair, their mind howls. I’ve done everything right, I’ve given so much. Why couldn’t I keep this? They know that everything comes with a price, each moment comes with an expiration date, but they had let themself foolishly believe that they’d finally have something that’d be theirs, that they’d finally get to cherish, and be cherished by, another— something that they’ve wanted for so long. They could feel the encroaching darkness beckoning them, luring them towards the tempting silence that it’d bring. But what would happen if they went? Would they lose themself again? Would they lose their memories of you? Of your touch? Of the sound of your laughter? The brilliance of your laugh? What would they give up to not feel this pain anymore? They’d be willing to part with themself, of their own memories, but they couldn’t do so with you. They would never wish to forget you— even if all you bring them now is agony.

Sloane: You’re fault. It’s all your fucking fault. If you had been better, if you had actually done something for once, they’d still be here. For once their wolf has no rebuttal to their anger, no sense of calm in the face of their wrath. Instead, it seems to cave in on itself, seemingly trying to hide from words it knows are true. A bitterness settles heavy over their chest then, anger tasting like fire against their tongue, because they couldn’t simply make themself disappear— couldn’t push back the world like their wolf could. Run away and hide like a coward. They had to face every single day with the knowledge that you were gone, that they’d never see you again, that they’d never be able to hold you. Would never get to hear your laugh, see your smile, or simply hear the sound of your heart beat within your chest. All of that, everything that made the world seem so much brighter, was gone now. Leaving just a monochromatic experience in its wake— everything duller without you their to brighten it with your presence.

Blake: The smell of ash and sulfur fills their nose, dull violet eyes staring into the stretch of darkness before them. Being home, in a place they never wished to return, hadn’t been an event they ever foresaw themself enacting, but how could they stay where they used to be? How could they live in a realm where you didn’t? How could they be somewhere, in a world, where every single thing reminded them of you? This realm, this place, may bring them nothing but misery, but at least it’d finally fit on how they’re feeling on the inside. Because without you? They don’t think they’ll ever feel anything else. So, it’s fitting to be in a place that never give them anything but.

Reginald/Regina: They still, despite themself, expect you to pop out from a corner, a teasing smirk on your face, laughter in your eyes, to tell them that it was all just some form of sick prank. That they’d be able to be in your arms again, that they’d be too overwhelmed with the knowledge that you weren’t gone to get angry at you, that they would finally be able to be home once more. Even days after the funeral, days after they saw your casket get put into the ground, they still slow down when approaching a corner— a part of them still hoping that you’d be on the other side. That they’d be able to see you once more… They’ve never wanted anything more.

BEFORE

Helena: No emotion is present on her face, nothing breaking through the ironclad facade she’s put up. Even if under the mask her entire being was breaking apart, that her very heart is crying out with her grief. She had to be strong, had to keep herself together, for not only her mate, but her remaining children. She couldn’t let herself fall into pieces, couldn’t let herself let loose the agonized screams that were bubbling in the back of her throat. Couldn’t let herself grieve… Not yet… Not when she still had her family to take care of.

Saraya: Dark brown eyes stare unblinkingly at the dark oak casket, at the thing that held her little light. The last embrace that you’d ever receive, that would take you away from her forever. She’d try to bite back a mournful wail, her agony seemingly ripping her chest apart, but she knows she’s unsuccessful when the feeling of her mates arm appears around her shoulder, pulling her tightly in an embrace that’d only be a bandaid to the gaping chasm that had opened within her heart.

Cienna: You had one job and you failed. A bitter smile twists her lips, electric blue eyes dimmed. Keep the family safe. That’s the only thing you’re supposed to do, and you couldn’t even manage that? What kind of leader will you be? Hands clenched tightly, she forces herself not to snarl, to not let her anger overrule her. After all, what could she possibly say to those thoughts? What could she possibly say in the face of the truth?

Persephone: Tears fall without even a semblance of stopping, she couldn’t wrap her mind around the fact that you were gone. That she had truly lost her baby sibling, that she hadn’t been able to protect you. How could she have failed so completely? How could she have let this happen? She wouldn’t be able to comprehend anything, wouldn’t be able to think of anything through the mind numbing grief that’s prevalent throughout her entire body.

Christian: Could he have done something different? Have been better in some way? Could he have been worth something for once? Those questions, those uncertainties, would plague him completely. Would haunt his ever waking thought and follow him into his dreams. Because he knows that he could have saved you, could have done something, if he had simply been better. If he had finally been the man you deserved as a big brother.

[infernalodie]

𝐟𝐥𝐨𝐰𝐞𝐫𝐬 & 𝐬𝐞𝐱 || 𝐌𝐢𝐠𝐮𝐞𝐥 𝐎'𝐇𝐚𝐫𝐚

“𝘐 𝘫𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘸𝘢𝘯𝘵 𝘧𝘭𝘰𝘸𝘦𝘳𝘴 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘴𝘦𝘹 𝘓𝘦𝘢𝘯 𝘣𝘢𝘤𝘬, 𝘐'𝘭𝘭 𝘥𝘰 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘳𝘦𝘴𝘵 𝘉𝘢𝘣𝘺, 𝘐 𝘬𝘯𝘰𝘸 𝘸𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘐 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦 𝘣𝘦𝘴𝘵 𝘐'𝘮 𝘢𝘭𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘺 𝘶𝘯𝘥𝘳𝘦𝘴𝘴𝘦𝘥“

Inspo: EMELINE - flowers & sex

Pairing: Miguel O'Hara x Gn!Reader

Summary: A mixed concoction for pleasure...

Warnings: Smut, bondage, vibrator, drugs (non-lethal), praise kink, dacryphilia and just some animalistic fucking.

a/n: kinda just random tbh. if its shit, my bad. i kinda just rushed it and filled in spots, so it for sure isn’t perfect.

Words: 1966

DNI IF YOU’RE YOUNGER THAN 18!

“Why can’t you be like this all the time?” There was a clear layer of humour in your words. The mockery that you made Miguel be submitted to. Genuinely, you were enjoying yourself.

Not many knew of this beautiful side of Miguel. Tied up, forced to his knees and completely bare for anyone curious about the choked whines heard inside the small office in his Spider-Society. A vibrator was attached to his twitching cock. The fiery red tip leaking pre cum caused a tiny puddle to form between his legs. A strap from the back of his head formed around and met a piece of wood that was forced between his teeth. Causing drool to slip from the corner of his mouth and display his sharp teeth.

He was as pliant as always. Yet, it never ceased to amaze you how someone to control driven would be on his knees, whimpering like a puppy, for you.

You met Miguel after Hobie had brought you into the fold when dealing with a villain that pierced into your reality. And when you met the Big Boss, you were not impressed. He was arrogant. He hated when someone protested against his decisions and he hated the fact that you fell under the criteria of everything he despised. 

Yet, here he was.

It wasn’t ideal that today would’ve dissolved into this. He had work to do. But seeing you ignore his complete existence during the mission debriefing, he couldn’t help himself. He hated seeking some sort of approval from you. But when he did receive it–when you were willing to praise him. “Good job, baby,” he fell under the umbrella of your love and he prayed to hear more.

He could break free from the webbing if he really wanted to. But hearing you whisper filthy things in his ears or the idea of someone so small compared to him making him feel minuscule under your painful pleasure was too good to pass up.

In front of him, you stood leaning against the edge of a table in his office. Your head tilted and eyes scanning his body with a sense of amusement and pride. He knew you liked holding these moments against him. Bringing them into a disagreement and shutting him up in an instant. But he also knew there was a mixture of love in your eyes. There would always be love.

“I have a gift for you, Mig,” you announced, smiling mischievously at the man. His teary eyes stared up at you with a hint of fear and excitement. You reach behind you, grabbing at his injector and a vile. Much like the Rapture ones, the contents had a red liquid inside instead of green. “Do you want to know what it is, sweetheart?”

His muffled words made you grin, sliding the vile into the injector and hearing it click. Pushing away from the table with a smile as you said, “I tweaked your Rapture serum. Think of it as something that brings your truest desires to the surface,” you explained, walking around his quivering body. Miguel wished to see what you were doing, but he felt one of your hands cover his eyes and force his head back–Pressing the needle to the pulse point on his neck and chuckling. “I’m going to break you, Miguel. I’ll inject you with all the viles until you’re begging me to stop. Crying and quivering for me.”

And before he could even protest, the needle pierced his skin. It pulled a grunt from Miguel’s throat and for a moment there was a pinch of pain. It subsided with a deep high taking its place before an almost animalistic entity took control of his mind. He was very present, but his scent had intensified, the constant vibrations echoing through his cock grew and the sound of your soft breathing could be heard. Feeling like he reverting to his natural state of desire. Hips bucking with the need to be inside you–Your mouth or tight hole that was made for him.

“Different, huh?” You asked, a hint of a smile in your words. Every bit of Miguel shifted and adapted to the serum. His skin was burning up more than it had been before. Cheeks brightened in their tint of a blush and his breaths were laboured with faint growls ripping from his throat. The inside of your pants was drenched, giving you some sort of justification to strip. Leading you to unbuckling your pants and peeling them off; leaving you in one of his shirts that draped your figure.

Sliding down to your knees, you pressed your front to his back, smiling at the desperate growls that fell from his lips. Legs twitching in an attempt to shut. But he was stopped by your hands planting on his thighs, peeling them open wider.“I had MJ test it with Peter B Parker. Safe to say that she suggested I make more.” Your hands scrolled up the side of his torso, hands wrapping around to run over his sensitive nipples.

Each move was sleek and methodical. Only poking the feral being that continued to buck his hips in desperation of reaching his high. And with a thoughtful look on your face, your hands pinked his pebbled nipples for a split moment before they slid down to his dripping cock. Slowly stroking it, pulling a groan from the man who fucked your hand.

The desperate sounds falling from his mouth were adorable. Same with the drool that seemed to slip from his parted lips. His mouth salivating from what you guessed was the scent of your blood and the need to cum.

MJ had gone through all the symptoms she had been able to “notice” when she used it on Peter. You knew that it would be different for everyone, but from all the things MJ said, it seemed to intensify with Miguel’s powers. His need for your blood. The ache between his legs becoming more strong. And every word or touch you pressed upon his senses were doubled.

It showed by his head reclining back into your shoulder. Hips stuttered with their inconsistent rhythm that you aided him through with quick pumps of your hand. He could feel your lips against his shoulder, curled in a grin at the sight of him so needy.

And soon enough, he moaned, body trembling with the only indication of his finish coming from his muscle flexing against you.

“Fuck yes, Miguel. Come on, sweetheart. Cum for me, please!” You stroked his cock rapidly, tongue peeking from between your lips and pressing against the bruise where the injector pierced. Miguel was a crying and whimpering mess, hips bucking relentlessly as his teeth bit down harder around the wood.

A deafening crack sounded the instant thick ropes of cum spilled across the floor. And when you least expected it, you felt the fabric of the muzzle drift across your cheek and the webbing you had secured around his limbs let out a deafening snap. One thing you had always underestimated was Miguel’s speed. Even in combat or just traversal through certain universes, he was fast. So, when you suddenly felt your body be tossed onto the table harshly in the blink of an eye, you shouldn’t have been surprised.

But what took your breath away was his cock, which still had the vibrator attached to him, slid inside of you with a ruthless thrust. It made your hands snap up to his chest, eyes wide, and breath strangled. Miguel grabbed your hands and slammed them to be held above your head. Pounding into your tight hole with no control or sense of mercy in mind.

His fangs didn’t hold back from piercing your shoulder, a deep groan rippling through his chest. You moaned, gasping for air as you slapped his chest, nails digging into his suit. “M-Miguel-!” His hips sharply slammed into yours, the buzzing of the vibrator and ropes of his cum filling you sending you over the edge. Finding balance and grounding with your hands tugging and gripping the roots of his hair whilst his claws cut into your sides. Legs curling around his waist as you orgasm.

There were a few moments where Miguel regained his breathing, the drug slowly wearing off as he looked up at you tiredly. But the moment he did, he felt the needle pierce his skin. His mind reverted to its predatory state.

But before he lost full control, he saw you take a vile and inject it into your own neck. Hands trembling with the device slipping from your grasp. He wanted to reach forward and see if you were okay, but it hardly mattered when he saw your entire attitude shift. A wicked grin formed on your lips as you tightened your hold around his waist. Forcing his cock to bottom out inside of you. His thick white cream dripped from your fluttering hole and created a sinful ring around the base of his cock. Smearing across his length.

“Don’t disappoint me, Miguel.”

Hours had seemed to slip past the both of you. Your body ached and vibrated with pleasure while Miguel was shaking between your legs which locked him in position. How could something so good be so fucking good? There was no answer to the question as his cocked throbbed in agony from the countless times he’d pounded your tight hole. And each time he came, another shot of that liquid was sent into his bloodstream. Sending him into another tirade to claim you.

You lay on the table, panting with your hands threaded through your hair. A hint of a smile danced across your swollen lips as you looked up at your boyfriend through half-lidded eyes. He had tears streaming down his cheeks, doing his best to hide the sob that dared to escape.

It was humiliating.

And you loved it.

So, when he saw you grab the injector, he wept harder and shook his head. “Please, Miel. No. No, no, no, no.” You ignored his pleas, pressing the barrel to his skin.

But you paused, tilting your head at the man. “What did I tell you, Miguel?”

Your inquiry was just above a soft whisper. Its essence is filled with warmth, but a sense of unfulfillment is mixed. He didn’t want to disappoint. He didn’t want you to ignore him. And although it hurt to continue, if it meant you told him he did amazing, then he would continue.

Exhaling shakily, the man licked his lips. Tasting the salty tears on his tongue. “J-Just, please. Please, let me breathe for a second.”

You allowed the injector to fall from his skin slowly despite your want to torture him. Allowing him that even little bit more room to regain his bearings. Allowing your freehand to sweep a few of his rogue strands of hair out of his face. Thumb softly brushed across his cheek, wiping the tears from his face.

These were the few moments that he loved dearly. When he got to be the subject of your warmth and love. Outside of sex, there weren’t many moments the two of you could share like this. The risk of the others finding out or the clear favouritism he had for you would disrupt the balance the two of you formulated.

Swallowing the cement in his throat, he nodded. “Ok, I’m good.”

You bit your bottom lip, softly pressing the injector to his neck. “I think I’ll have to do more tests. Maybe I can make something that could make me your free toy.” The way his eyes brightened at the prospect made you laugh. His weak and abused cock twitched inside you, pulling a groan from between your lips. “I guess that’s a yes.”

[arctroopertinky]

Look Towards the Future Ch5: Lost

Captain Rex x Jedi!Reader

Words: 6.8k

Summary: You and Rex find each other at the bottom of the cliff. Your honesty wavers. And Rex discovers a new feeling as he patches you up, finding it difficult to stay away.

Warnings: Injury / Blood / Falling unconscious / Corpse /

A/N: The slow burn begins to burn here. Please enjoy! Also, I plan on creating a masterlist post for this fic, to reduce some of the clutter, stay tuned.

AO3 Link / Previous Chapter / Next Chapter / Master List

You tried your best to stay right behind the Captain, but you found yourself slowly lagging behind throughout the sprint away from certain death, eventually unable to distinguish the Captain from other troopers. What’s worse, your view of the planet around you kept spinning. Every time you tried to blink away the swirling vision, it simply started again from square one, with no sign of slowing down anytime soon.

Yes, you lied to the Captain. You told him that you could escape the village by yourself, when in reality your life was basically up to the flip of a coin. The dizziness caused you to stumble and trip over yourself as you weaved from side to side, with no clones stopping to help you. Despite your hazed thoughts, you knew that it was because they were all focused on their own escape, but a part of you couldn’t help but wonder if they simply didn’t want to help a useless Jedi like you, as you struggled to maintain your balance.

Your body forced your sprint to slow to a jog and then to a stop. Your knees buckled slightly forward as you bent over to rest your hands on their respective knee. The upper portion of your back explosively rose and fell as your lungs desperately collected air to harvest its oxygen. Your ears rung excessively, but underneath it all, death and destruction could just barely be heard. Explosions were muffled in your ears as countless clones cried out at the violence. Your eyes, which were shut tight as you caught your breath, slowly opened to reveal the ground, turning at a nauseating pace as your vision doubled and tripled ruthlessly.

You felt your body begging to vomit up bile as you attempted to straighten yourself out, stumbling multiple times in the process, only just barely able to catch yourself. You felt as though you were ready to lay down and give up. But then you felt an explosive go off only a couple yards away from you. The blinding flash of the reaction bled its way past your eyelids.

You were blasted violently to the side as you rolled several feet on the dead earth beneath you. You finally ended up laying on your back. You laid there for some brief moments, groaning from the soreness, wishing you could melt into the ground and cease to exist as your eyes struggled to make sense of the ruined sky above. Your thoughts were scrambled, making you unable to think of anything substantial as you rolled over to your side in an initial attempt to stand, drool slacked from the corner of your mouth as it threatened to drip down to the ground below. Then, you came face to face with your new situation.

The injured haze you found yourself in quickly dissipated in a gasp as you noticed an ominous red blinking light just beneath the dirt. With what minimal coordination you had available, you crawled away from the mine as steadily as you could. Your eyes wide, never wavering away from the mechanism. Once you made it far enough away from the mine, you felt comfortable enough to try to stand. You cautiously turned from the mine to face where the troopers were running, and placed one foot on the ground. Your other leg’s knee dug into the earth as you felt its texture tattoo itself temporarily into your skin as a sharp pain resonated throughout your knee. As you attempted to lift the other foot to stand, you felt your legs rapidly wobble, threatening to drop you like some discarded trash.

Right as your legs were about to fail, you heard a quiet click, then a scream, all cut off by a loud BANG coming from behind you. The force emitted by the explosion pushed you forward a bit, your legs automatically moving in tandem, mimicking a light jog to prevent you from falling on your face. Then, the initial explosion must have caused more mines to erupt, the ground began to shake violently beneath you as the corners of your eyes caught multiple blinding flashes echoing in your surroundings. The horrific circumstances you found yourself in gave you the motivation to run faster, but not before the waves of explosive energy hit you from behind, boosting you forward at an unnatural rate as you ran for your life. Even after the deafening explosions ceased to follow you, leaving only an intense ringing in your ear, you didn’t stop. Your adrenaline was running hot, allowing you to ignore what was most likely a concussion, and keep moving to safety.

You weren’t able to focus on anything in particular, the adrenaline coursing through your bloodstream kept you on your feet, but it did nothing to cure your dizziness and doubled vision. But, you kept running, sprinting even. Nothing could stop you now. Well… nothing except for the trooper you accidentally rammed yourself into.

Despite the fact that your body wasn’t really spinning at all, your brain made you feel as though you were turning a thousand times a second as you descended off the cliff with your mystery victim. The trooper was only about a foot lower than you in your fall to your deaths. All you could do was look upon the trooper with hooded eyes as your thoughts struggled to bubble to the surface. The blue markings on the armor were obvious to you as they contrasted with the original white finish of the armor, but your injury prevented you from discerning what shapes were painted on. As far as you could tell, this trooper was most likely an absolute stranger, pushed off a cliff by the Jedi who couldn’t even do her job.

Suddenly you felt yourself become engulfed by a thick bedding of blackened branches, scratching your body as you momentarily settled into the peak of a tree. You cried out at the surprising sensation, the branches cradling you with no regard for their texture as they broke your fall.

Then you felt your body sink. The branches creaked and moaned as many began to snap one by one, dropping you slightly with each crude sound. You reached for something, anything really. But all you were able to grip tightly were the dead branches that were failing you. Your knuckles turned white as the last standing branches you prayed would hold you became more and more strained as they were forced to bear more of your weight. There then was a moment, which felt like an eternity to you, where there was an uncomfortable silence, threatening to end its calm just to make you suffer. You huffed out an anxious sigh as confusion rang across your mind. Why weren’t you falling? That was the only thought that managed to cut through your half conscious haze.

As though nature wanted to mock you, a large CRACK could be heard immediately following your inquiry. Your eyes swiftly opened wide in panic as you looked down at the spinning branches beneath you, not able to discern any noticeable damage that had just been heard. Then, you looked back up at the branch you were holding, barely separating you from your fall to your death. You noticed a large fracture in it, only getting bigger by the second. Your throat managed to let out a squeak in reaction to the sight before the branch finally failed you, and you began plummeting to your demise once more, letting out a long and unending scream on your way down. All until you were painfully interrupted again.

Your lungs forced out the rest of the air in the form of a grunt as your back landed perpendicular to a very large and wide branch. Despite its crude and deathly appearance, it was able to hold your weight, but it couldn’t stop you from slowly sliding off of it legs first as you desperately tried to accelerate your recovery from the harsh landing, reaching your hands out to grab at nothing.

You began falling again, nothing was beneath you to block your body from the ground, but you weren’t too far now. All that was left was for you to make your rude acquaintance with the scorched earth below. You couldn’t even let out anything more than a speckled groan as you stared at the branches that were rushing away from you as you fell closer to the ground.

Then, you hit the bottom. Back first, your limbs sprawled out around you. It didn’t take long for any sensations to kick in. Your lungs were once again forced empty as your back hit the ground, gravity flattening your body, making you feel as though you were paralyzed for a brief moment as your lungs refused to expand. Then, that subsided, your breath returned to you, but not before a soreness kicked in throughout your body. But you also noticed your right thigh felt as though it was burning up, the feeling was sharp compared to the dull pain that etched itself elsewhere. You managed to strain your head up to look down at your body, and you saw red.

Some more adrenaline kicked in, an anxiety stabbed through your chest, allowing you to shoot up quickly, immediately resting your weight on your sore elbows. The fabric of your pants covering your thigh was bloody, with its bright red color covering more and more of the fabric with every passing second. You noticed a figure right above your thigh. Your eyes flicked up slightly, and you gasped. Cold air filled your lungs quickly and dried out your throat when you saw what made you bleed. You fell on a sharp rock. It was thin and long, clearly etched and carved to resemble some sort of weapon. Crudely made, as if whoever crafted the tool was in a hurry to finish it. No matter the circumstances, it made its way right through your thigh when you made harsh contact with the ground.

Your eyes squinted as the pain in your thigh became fully realized to you. You used your arms to pull yourself up into a seating position, shaking and hyperventilating your moans and groans all the way up, gasping at each wrong move that shifted the sharp rock in your thigh, causing the pain to grow hotter and shoot through you unapologetically.

Your hands found their way to the stone, wrapping their respective fingers around the tool with weakened strength. Without the ability to put much thought into it, you began to pull, gritting your teeth as you felt the texture of the weapon drag against the inner flesh of your thigh. It moved upwards slowly, generating a disgusting noise that made your ears tense up as it pierced the intense ringing.

After an agonizing moment, you could feel that the stone was almost out of your thigh, but you were losing energy fast from the blood loss. You sensed your arms weakening, and the stone slowed down as you struggled to pull more and more.

You paused and pinched your eyes tight, bracing the stone as hard as you could. Then, you let out a groan as you put all of your strength into getting that stone out. You felt it move slightly before stopping again. You took a shallow breath in, and moaned in pain as you wretchedly pulled again, this time the stone rushed out of you, forcing your moans to become a pained yell as your ears rang louder in anguish. Your vision began to blur on top of the spinning as you stared at the bloodied stone, eyebrows lowered into your squinted eyes in pain, your breath quickened, but hollow of air.

Slowly but surely, your breathing slowed, your facial features relaxed, and your eyes began to feel tired as your core struggled to hold you up. Then, your mouth went slack as your eyes began to roll into the back of your head.

Then, you were out like a light. Your head fell back to the ground with a thud as your elbows slid down your body, straightening your arms. The hand that was holding the stone went slack at your side, allowing the stone to roll off of it, and onto the ground some distance away.

- - -

Rex felt free, gravity wasn’t holding him down and the burden of the war was nowhere to be found within him. A consistent deep hum played in his ears, relaxing him deeply as he floated through nothing. He wondered who could join him in this serene state, he wished others could feel as fantastic as he was in that moment. He thought of his brothers, the ones closest to him. His mind then wandered to Anakin and Ahsoka, and he weakly smiled as he thought of his battalion. When he was done feeling this nice, he was going to grab his brothers and his Generals and bring them here. Yeah… that would be nice.

He then remembered you. Oh, you! How could he forget about this newest General?

…

Wait…

An image of you flashed through Rex’s mind, one of you hitting your head against the ground.

Where were you?

Another image crossed through his head, of dozens of explosions occurring around him. Of his men dying.

Where was anyone? Where was he?

An anxiety pierced through Rex’s heart, and his eyes opened with a start.

Blue. Just… blue! All around him! Rex gasped as he frantically scanned his surroundings, revealing the body of water he was currently floating in. Holy shit, he was drowning. Well, not yet maybe. Luckily his helmet had an emergency air reserve for when he needed it. Saved him more times than he could count, and it was hopefully going to save him this time too.

Adrenaline was already coursing through Rex’s veins, his survival instincts immediately activated, forcing his arms and legs to swim him towards the surface. Rex stopped after a moment, wincing at the pain his four limbs were rudely greeted too. He realized that he must have hit the water pretty hard. But, Rex grit his teeth, forcing himself to continue upwards until he broke the barrier between the water and the air, taking a deep breath in in relief, despite the fact that he was never unable to breath.

Rex turned himself erratically in the water in a desperate attempt to understand where he was. Luckily, he was able to easily spot the shore, and started his swim towards land promptly, the pain only slowed him down a bit, he never let it stop him.

- - -

Rex crawled himself further onto shore before he collapsed onto his stomach. He rolled himself over onto his back with a groan, allowing one arm to go slack at his side, while the other covered his visor as his eyes slacked shut in exhaustion. His breaths were long and labored as his lungs thirsted for as much oxygen as possible. His limbs, now tired on top of the soreness Rex woke up with, could barely move anymore as waves continued to lap up Rex’s legs and stop at his thighs.

Rex laid there for a couple minutes. Just as a little treat to give to himself, after surviving falling off a cliff and almost drowning.

His eyes opened sharply when he heard an echoed scream, one that was growing louder by the second, before a metallic crash could be heard far off into the distance. Rex shot up, and he realized that the scream came from a separatist battle droid. He then picked up on the sounds of blaster fire, almost too quiet to have been possible to hear, but just loud enough to remind the weary Captain of the broader situation he was still in. He had to get back up the cliff, and back into the fight.

His heart began to pound again, dreading how many more troopers may have been dead in his absence. It was enough to get him on his feet. The aching pain from his not-so-gentle meeting with the lake made his limbs and core shake and tremble as he struggled to hold himself together.

But the drive to continue wasn’t enough, Rex dropped to his knees before he even realized he was falling, letting out a breathy sigh in disappointment and exhaustion as the soft crackling of scorched grass and sediment touched his ears, almost unable to keep himself upright upon contact.

He leaned back slightly, lifting his head up to bask in the sunless air as he took a deep breath in, preparing himself to stand once more. Rex peered about his surroundings. He wasn’t trying to find anything in particular, but a dark object did catch his attention. He blinked away any imperfections in his vision, and he noticed a large stick leaning against a dead tree, one that Rex theorized he could use as a crutch of sorts.

Rex found a smile creeping onto his face. Somehow a slight chuckle made it past his lips as he stared at the simple object, the one thing that might be able to help him get where he needed to go.

Rex managed to get to his feet again, but he immediately could feel his legs failing on him once again as he looked down at the trembling appendages. His eyes raced to the stick again, the tree the stick was accompanying was only a couple paces away. Totally doable.

One foot in front, then the other. Rex did this again and again, each step forward harder than the last. Sweat began to bead on his forehead as his breath became more and more labored. Eventually, he was so close to the tree, his desire to reach out growing with each passing second. Then, Rex took another step, and he felt that he was likely about to fall again. In reaction he picked up the pace, growing it into a pathetic run towards the tree. His knees continued to buckle, but he kept running, desperate to avoid dropping like an insect before reaching his target. Rex reached out his arms, and he found himself embracing the tree before he knew it. He sighed in relief, and then looked down at his extremely buckled legs. Any more steps and he would have crashed right into the tree itself. Rex then looked to the side, and there was the stick. He reached out with one arm to grab the object, maintaining his intimate grasp to the tree with his other to maintain balance. Its length ran from the ground to just about under his shoulder. One end was flat, and the other was thin and round. Rex deduced it was the perfect substitute for a crutch with a smirk as his underarm began to hug the flatter end of the stick.

Rex let his other arm go from the tree. He struggled to maintain balance at first, his legs wobbled as they tried to hold themselves up independent from the tree. But, after a couple of practice steps, Rex mostly got the hang of supporting his weight on the stick. It wasn’t pretty, his steps were in the form of uneven hobbles, and he was pretty damn slow compared to how he was before. But, he would be able to get from point A to point B, so it had to be enough.

A slight breeze began to stir up the burnt flora around Rex. He tried to soak up the feeling as the relaxing hum of the wind met his ears, but his armor kept the feeling from softening his skin. It was another rude reminder of the situation he was currently in, he had to find a way back to the fight.

Rex began his trek to the edge of the cliff. He landed pretty close to it, so it took him no time at all for him to reach it, to be able to drag his gloved hand along the ragged edges of the landmark as he limped along the side of the cliff to find a way back up. Rex allowed his mind to wander slightly as he mentally marked the best past for his fingers to drag themselves through. Small chunks of rock and sand fell at the wake of contact with the fabric of his glove. His eyes glazed over slightly as the activity brought him some fleeting relaxation.

And then he tripped.

Rex’s shoulder broke his fall, with a grunt emanating from the Captain’s lips as he grit his teeth upon impact with the Earth. His eyes, which were shut tight, blinked open rapidly for Rex to see his crutch laying on the ground in front of him. He reached out and grabbed the stick with a muttering groan, then hoisted himself up with it, trying to ignore his legs’ shakes as he pinned the crutch beneath his arm once more.

Rex turned his body to look behind him with an annoyed squint in his eyes, expecting to see some sort of root or rock that got in his way. Behind his helmet, however, his jaw slacked open and his eyes widened as a sharp gasp escaped him when he saw your shoes.

“G-general…?”

Ignoring his pain, he rushed himself to limp over to your shoes quickly, where your body came into view. Rex’s eyes immediately shot upwards to scan your face. Your hood obscured your face slightly, but he could see that your eyes were closed and your mouth hung open. Scratches and bruises littered your face. You were clearly not conscious. Rex saw red in the bottom corner of his vision, that’s when he found your thigh. Blood was spreading rapidly throughout your pants as the fabric absorbed the bright liquid. He then noticed the hole in your pants that revealed the mighty gash in your thigh. Usually, Rex wouldn’t have much of a reaction to gore of this sort. But for some reason, when he looked upon your wound, he felt his face tense as an uneasy feeling striked through his chest. Maybe it was because you weren’t a trooper, he was used to seeing his brothers getting hurt. But, he didn’t even feel this way when Anakin or Ahsoka got hurt. At least, it was never to the same degree. Maybe it was because he knew that you were vulnerable, that you were struggling. That you have been for a while now.

Despite only getting to his feet a moment prior, Rex didn’t hesitate to practically leap towards you as he fell to his knees, ripping his helmet off and discarding it to the side. He took your bloodied hand into his, placing his middle and pointer finger onto the outer portion of your wrist, awaiting a pulse.

He relaxed a bit when his fingers felt a rhythmic beat beneath them. It was slightly faint, and maybe a bit erratic, but it was there. You were alive.

Rex immediately got to work. After placing your hand gently back at your side, he barely managed to prop you up against the nearby tree, grunting as he struggled against your weight, forcing your limp body to leave behind a trail in the earth and dirt. Then, he was quick to begin examining your wound. He carefully pulled apart the hole in your pants to obtain a closer look at it, the uncomfortable stabbing sensation returning to him briefly, nauseating him slightly. Rex’s breath then hitched at a rude realization. He had no bacta patches, and no tools to stop the bleeding. What was he supposed to do here? How was he supposed to save you-?

Rex felt a hand weakly grip his forearm. His mind snapped back into reality as his eyes popped back up at you. Your eyes were on his, barely open as you weakly blinked a couple times in an attempt to clear your vision. “Captain…?”

You were awake.

“General…!”

All Rex could seem to do in this situation was look at your eyes as yours began to study the situation. He saw you look down at your wound, your eyebrows furrowing in confused concern in reaction to the gore, before relaxing in understanding resolve.

“U-use my robe…”

Rex was caught a bit off guard. “Y-your robe? For what, General?” He felt it as his hand was slowly guided towards the wound, his fingers began pressing against it gently.

There was a short pause. For some reason, Rex’s eyes stayed locked on yours, his mind threatening to wander once more as he struggled to understand how you were here with him. His overwhelmed mind swarmed with thoughts as the warmth of your blood cradled his hand. Then, your eyes looked back into his eyes with an increased clarity, surprising him.

“Help me, please…”

“Oh!” Rex exclaimed, blinking away his confusion as he snapped back into reality, finally understanding what you wanted. “O-of course.” He sheepishly grabbed the end of your robe, Swiftly bringing it up to his face and clamping down on the corner of it with his teeth, before ripping a long strip of it away from the rest of the fabric. A crackling noise accompanied the destruction.

Rex slid the fabric underneath your thigh as carefully as he could, using one hand to lift your thigh gently as the other positioned the fabric accordingly. His hand was flat against the bottom of your thigh, cupping it delicately as he lifted it. He tried his best not to hurt you, but he still heard you take a sharp inhale when he moved your thigh a bit too much. Rex winced in reaction, your pained expression made him respond more intensely than he’d expect to once again.

“I’m sorry, General.” Rex apologized hurriedly as he continued his work.

“It’s okay,” he heard you strain out as your lungs refused to let go of your previous inhale, “don’t worry about it…”

Rex took the ends of the fabric in both of his hands. Ignoring the pain in his arms the best he could, he shifted his hands far apart, dissolving the slack of the fabric. His hands moved methodically as he prepared the knot he was about to tighten around the wound. He paused, then carried his eyes up to yours, seeing that yours were still focused on his work. You then looked up to him, clearly noticing his purposeful hesitation. Your facial expression showing one of helpless disorientation and nervousness, it made Rex’s heart ache slightly.

“This is going to hurt, alright?” Rex warned. “Hold onto something if you need to.”

You nodded quickly, eyes shutting tight in preparation for what was to come. Rex looked down at the wound, seeing your hands grip the blackened grass hard enough to turn your knuckles white. This wasn’t going to be easy.

“Just do i-.”

Rex pulled hard. In the corner of his vision your body noticeably tensed up as the sensation became known to you. You shot up into a sitting position, eyes completely open, whining out the rest of your sentence as your head hunched over dramatically in parallel to his, fingers now gripping his arm closest to you tight. Rex’s face felt strangely hot as your tone reached his ears and his armor shifted to your sudden strength, a tight knot formed at the bottom of his stomach for a short second.

Suddenly Rex noticed how… close he was to you. Your head was so close to his that he could hear your labored breaths brush past his shoulder oh so slightly. His gloves were on, but the heat emanating from your thigh penetrated the fabric effortlessly. He felt his curiosity seek to bask in this feeling, before he mentally smacked himself back into the moment, tying the makeshift bandage securely in place.

Rex was quick to remove himself slightly, giving you some air. As you processed the pain your hunched back slowly stopped heaving so intensely, your breaths became more rhythmic and calm and you gently allowed yourself to lean back into the tree, eyes now shut, eyebrows high with newfound relief from the pain. Rex turned himself around, supporting himself on his crutch as he made himself stand to give you some privacy, still feeling an intense hotness incubating on his face. He took his free hand and slid it down his face, trying to relax himself as his hand pulled his skin slightly, perturbed at his reaction, and a little confused.

“Thank you,” Rex heard you sigh out. He turned himself back around to face you. Whatever timidness you were expressing prior to this had clearly been melted away by a mixture of blood loss and almost-unbearable pain. You looked weary, but desperate to get back on your feet as you began fidgeting in your seat.

“Of course. How are you feeling?” Rex asked, expecting to hear a not-so-great answer.

“I feel fine now.”

Fine?

“Fine?” Rex asked, “are you sure…?” He looked down on you with mighty concern, eyeing the blood that soaked your pants and the apparent paleness of your skin. “I think it’s safe to assume that you lost a lot of blood…” Rex paused for a moment to think, turning his head to look up at the cliff, then back down at you again. “How did you get down here anyway?”

You looked away from him for a second, eyeing something Rex couldn’t distinguish without looking over himself, but he didn’t. You looked back at him.

“I don’t know.” You stated plainly. “I must have fallen, like you did.”

Rex nostrils flared slightly at the assumption. “I didn’t fall, General.” Rex paused as he tried to remember how he got here. “I think I may have been pushed.”

“Then who pushed you?” You inquired, your sudden plain and emotionless tone making Rex feel strangely embarrassed.

“I don’t know…”

CRASH.

You both gasped at the sudden noise, shoulders jumping unconsciously. You angled yourself to look behind Rex. He turned himself around slowly, finding a freshly defaced bush at the edge of the cliff. An uncomfortable silence maintained between the two of you as Rex limped over to the bush cautiously, placing his free hand on one of his holstered pistols as he peered over carefully.

It was a clone, a dead one. The blue 501st markings on his armor were somewhat obscured by blood and dirt, his limbs laid about carelessly and his head slacked back. Rex released his tense grip from his pistol as his features softened in sad realization. He approached the body to examine the armor’s paint job. He knew this clone. He used his free hand to remove his helmet, struggling for a moment without the help of his other hand, but he eventually was able to remove the helmet, revealing the lifeless eyes of a trooper he knew he was so familiar with. Except this clone was not in his bomb disarming squad. No, Rex knew for a fact that his clone was assigned to fight alongside Anakin and Ahoksa. Had his clones managed to meet up with the Generals? Rex’s teeth grit together in frustration as the blaster shots occurring above him became more prominent in his ears.

He turned to face you, you still looking past him in anxious curiosity. Your pupils danced slightly in your eyes as your bottom lip hung open slightly. “What is it…?” You asked, eyes now shooting between the Captain and the bush repeatedly.

“One of my brothers.” Rex replied, eyes closing as his eyebrows came together in thought and grief. He looked back over to the clone, then he looked down, his free hand cupping his hip as he contemplated what to do next. He leaned in to his lost brother, to his lifeless eyes and slack jaw. He took his free hand, stiff in depressed grief, and reached for his brother’s belt. It was obscured in the rough of the bush, so Rex was fishing for it blindly, but he eventually felt his fingers wrap around an object. He pulled his hand out, and found a DC-17 hand blaster. He observed every corner of the weapon as his hand moved accordingly. His finger tapped the trigger lightly as he checked for any damage that the pistol may have sustained. But all he could really notice was the dirt and debris that stuck to the blaster. He wiped the pistol on the bush beneath him, removing most of the dirt. He stuck the pistol in between his armor and belt, mentally thanking his brother for the extra munition, and apologizing for having to leave him behind. He raised his fingers towards the trooper's eyes, and shut them delicately. Rex then turned and limped back over to you, feeling an angered desperation bubble up inside him as images of his dead brother loomed across his mind.

“We need to move out. My men are still up there, fighting without us.” Rex stated as he approached you. “We are both hurt, we have no medical supplies, and we have no food. I don’t care how long it takes us.” Rex felt his jaw clench up as he stopped in front of your feet, his free hand clenched into a fist at his side. He didn’t notice you as his eyes kept fixating on the cliff behind him, your eyes captivated on the physical evidence of his anger. “We are NOT dying down here. Not without saving them first.” Rex demanded, his paternal instinct towards his troopers fully kicking in.

“Okay, then let’s go.” He heard you say.

Rex looked back at you, one eyebrow raised above the other, concern now littering his eyelids as he felt his anger subside. “But your leg, and my… everything.” He looked down at his crutch for a moment. “How are we supposed to get back to them?”

“Captain, I’m fine, really.” You started. “I just need some help standing up, and you have that stick. We should be fine.” He studied you for a moment, unable to discern any intense emotion or opinion from your face. Something told him to be skeptical of your words, but he was unable to see a reason why, so he relented, and stuck his free hand out, offering it to you.

“Let’s go then, General.” You stared at his hand for a moment, more nondescript but noticeably worried expressions warping your face. Whatever you were thinking, you did not make it known to the Captain as you took his hand, gripping it tightly as the effort to make you stand began, making you both grunt in strained pain in the process.

Once you were on your feet, you stumbled forward for a moment, leaning yourself into Rex’s shoulder accidentally, causing your scent to float by Rex’s nose. Another knot stabbed through Rex’s stomach. It was weaker this time, but still something Rex noticed and took note of for later thought, despite the redness he felt growing on his face that he tried to subdue as you were still finding your balance.

You leaned back, finally stabilizing yourself to the ground below. If Rex’s face was still red, you showed no indication that you noticed. Instead, you winced, from what Rex logically assumed was most likely from the large gash in your thigh. He looked down at the wound and noticed that the fabric he tied around it was already turning red. He looked back up at you, you looked anxious to go, somehow completely absent of any evidence of pain or discomfort on your face.

“Are you ready, Captain?” You asked him, not looking at him.

Rex looked back at you cautiously. “Are you sure you can walk by yoursel-”

“YES.” You interrupted, your tone a tad bit harsh as your head turned swiftly to look Rex in the eyes with a stabbing retort. Rex was clearly noticeably taken aback by your response. You took a shallow deep breath in and sighed it out carelessly with your eyes closed. “I told you already that I’m fine Captain, let’s just focus on getting back to the fight.” You turned away from Rex, and placed your eyes at the foot of the cliff. “How are we getting back up there anyway?”

Rex looked to the cliff as well, an unsure anxiety began bubbling up in his stomach. “I’m not exactly sure…” he began, “my plan was to walk along the edge of the cliff… there’s no way we’re climbing, and I doubt anyone is coming for us anytime soon…” Rex assumed, pointing towards his desired direction with his finger.

“We should get started then.”

Rex looked back at you, and you were already walking away. His eyelids jumped at the realization. He immediately pushed his crutch in front of him, propelling him forward as fast as he could handle. He struggled to keep up with your surprisingly quick speed, but he was able to stay close behind you for the most part, only at times finding himself lagging behind. The silence you bore made Rex uneasy. Even in the darkest of situations, he always was able to find comfort in conversing with his brothers. Fives or Jesse would crack a joke that could make even the most shell-shocked trooper lighten up a bit. But this? This is not something he was used to.

But it’s not like this was something he had never encountered before, so he couldn’t understand why this made him feel this uncomfortable. You made it extremely clear to Rex; you wanted your relationship to merely be a professional one, where only cold acknowledgements and dialogues could be found between the two of you. He thought that he could be content with it, but his initial draw to you, the moments he shared with you during the current mission, and the moment of one-sided closeness he had with you made him as confused as he was when you initially cut him out. He just… wanted to talk to you? He felt ridiculous with this realization. Why did he still care so much? You rejected his kindness once, and you were clearly attempting to reject it again with the coldness you presented. There was no point in even trying, Rex thought to himself, you wanted to embark on your journey to heal alone. Maybe not everyone needs to seek support, like how Rex had done time and time again each time he led his brothers to their deaths.

Then he thought about the knot he felt within him when he covered your wound. It almost felt painful, but… in a good way? Rex tried to mimic the feeling from memory to gain a better understanding of it. But it was a feeling he was completely unfamiliar with, all he could recall was the haziness of his mind, forcing him to focus on… certain things. Whatever tightness he felt from within would most likely only be able to return to Rex without his influence.

Rex sighed out his scrambling thoughts, praying that his brain would continue this string of confusing considerations at a more appropriate time. He let his eyes wander to anything that would catch his attention, so he may forget what was making him so sad. But, he found you, his attention focused on the way you moved. It was stiff, unnatural almost, as if you were putting on an act, an act Rex could see existed, but couldn’t understand why. You looked forward, your hood obscuring any chance that Rex would be able to see your face as he lagged behind. Your hands gripped the side of your pants tight, paling your knuckles. You must have assumed your robe covered this, but Rex carved out a large portion of it to wrap up your leg, so when the robe kicked up against the breeze, your hands were easy to see.

But, Rex kept these thoughts to himself. He considered speaking about it, his eyes looked to the ground nervously, his free hand raised into the air as though to assist him in gaining the confidence to speak up. But when he looked back up at you, he remembered what you had said to him mere days ago. To leave you alone, to stop trying to help. Obviously, his help minutes prior to this was warranted, battlefield injuries aren’t something anyone can brush off. But it seemed as though everything had gone back to normal ever since you regained your composure, or whatever composure you were pretending to have. What used to make Rex feel a sort of animosity towards you, now made him sad once again. If something was really wrong, Rex could see that you had no interest in expressing any of it to him, and you wanted nothing to do with him outside of this war. This was the way things were, and he was going to give you the space you wanted, despite the voice in Rex’s head telling him not to.

[ithaquakisser]

Desire

Synopsis; It wasn't a mere desire, but a need. Ithaqua wants and needs you more than ever.

CW; Unhealthy relationships, obsession, brief mentions of stalking

WC; ≈1K

Note; I wanted to experiment with a different take on Ithaqua for some time now, most specifically a yandere Ithaqua. I have to admit, I was reluctant at first since it'd be my first ever yandere fanfic. Although I guess we all have to start somewhere, no? But I hope you guys enjoy! This is a bit shorter than my usual fics.

It wasn't a mere want or desire, but a need. An urge, an itch. An itch that needed to be scratched. An itch that could never be satisfied. If you were to dig your nails into it, you'd find yourself only bleeding profusely. Lamenting it all. You needed to bury a blade, skin deep into it to feel anything more than envy. To finally feel satisfied.

You were all Ithaqua could think about. You occupied his mind from dawn till dusk each day. You were akin to a pest, a fly that would never cease to leave him alone. Why must you be so kind to him? Why must you even exist to torment him each day? Making him feel these insufferable emotions every waking moment. Ithaqua himself was never able to decipher his feelings for you. All he knew was that he wanted you—no. He needed you. He needed you more than ever.

He celebrates the day you set foot into the manor, whilst you rued the day. Wrongfully, you were promised a wish of yours granted. All for it to be tossed aside like dross and crushed beneath the heel of reality itself. You lived in trepidation, each of your days consisting of nothing much but feelings of pure dread. You persistently fought to survive each day, and the question here is, "why?"

Ithaqua had never involved himself with anyone. You were his only exception. The apple of his eye since the moment he laid his eyes on you. If only you could look his way, just once. If only you knew how you made him feel, then maybe, just maybe you'd understand.

Maybe someday he too would understand why his heart skips a beat whenever you'd plea for mercy. Perhaps he'd understand why he'd ensure you were safe at all costs, looming over your doorstep practically every night. Why he'd scowl and feel an ache in his chest whenever he'd witness you speak to someone else.

Wherever you went, he wasn't too far to follow. Ithaqua wanted you for his own and his own only in the most greedy way possible. He was desperate, desperate for your touch, your attention, your voice, everything. He yearned for your embrace, to feel your hand in his, someday hear you talk sweet nothings to him and him alone. These were the many things he'd do anything for. If it meant seeing you smile he'd sacrifice it all.

Yet you.. You were oh so naive.

Your heart frantically pounded against your chest as you panted, and your eyes were tightly shut as you hid from the hunter searching for you. Your e/c eyes watered out of sheer terror, wishing for it all to end. Your hands trembled as you placed them on the wall, warily peeking from the walls of the Red Church. The faint sound of metal clanking against the cement pavement echoed throughout the vicinity.

All three of your teammates have been eliminated and only you remained. You were in a state of panic, unsure of what to do at this very moment. If you dared to move a single limb you were certain the hunter would find you even if it was a subtle movement. You were convinced he could hear your every move as you held your breath.

There was a brief moment of silence, you could hear nothing more but the sound of your heart beating in your ears. You let out a sigh of relief, relaxing your muscles as you made your way toward the dungeon which was just a few feet away from you. Immediately, you were taken by surprise. Your heart skipped a beat as you were forcefully pulled away from the dungeon by a strong wind current. You staggered for a moment before being struck down, letting out a whimper upon impact.

"Please.. just let me go." You pleaded as you groaned. The hunter grinned as he leisurely removed his mask. Wavy platinum hair draped over his forehead as dark eyes gazed upon yours with a grin. He could only chuckle in response to your pleas, finding amusement in your vulnerable state. Ithaqua lifted your chin with a finger, his gaze fixed on yours. "Now, now, don't give me that look. I did this all for you after all." He cooed, tracing his thumb over your lower lip.

"Wh.. What?" You uttered in confusion. Clutching your wound as droplets of crimson spilled from your side, a wave of fatigue overcame you as your vision began to blur. The dungeon before you seemingly looking further and further away. "I cleared the vicinity of any potential disturbances. I didn't wish for the two of us to be interrupted." Ithaqua explained. "I was meaning to make some time for the both of us, if only you knew how long I've waited for this."

"If I may ask, Y/N, have you been purposely avoiding me?" He inquired, caressing your cheek as he spoke. He looked at you in admiration, he felt his heart race at the sight of you before him. You shook your head, struggling to focus on the hunter in front of you as you continued to bleed. "Then why do we seldom speak, hm? Do you hate me?" Ithaqua interrogated.

"Why are you doing this..?" You questioned, furrowing your brows. "That does not answer my question." He scowled, gripping your face tightly. His nails lightly dug into your skin, causing you to wince. "Answer me, Y/N," Ithaqua demanded. You were unable to utter a single word out of dread, a hand clasping Ithaqua's wrist as he tightened his grip on you.

You struggled under his grip as you grew both weary and lightheaded. You weakened your grasp, watching as he softened his gaze, his lips curling into a smile. The young man lessened his grip on you and leaned towards you as your body threatened to collapse. Tenderly, he placed a kiss on your forehead. You lost consciousness shortly after. Having no memory recollection of the events that occurred afterward. However, the sound of wind rang in your ear as you awoke in your bed once again.

[lightandheatao3]

The Bunker - Criminal Minds

Chapter 8: The Story

Summary: Spencer Reid wakes up in a locked bunker to find half the current BAU and two of its departed members unconscious on the floor. The old team is back together but the reunion is not what any of them would have wished for. An Unsub from their past has decided it's time they all stop keeping secrets, even if it means exposing them by force.

Hotch and Derek have been pulled back into a world they tried to escape. Emily, Rossi, and JJ are doing their best to keep it together. Spencer is falling apart.

AKA a found family is reunited and forced to go through the most nightmarish version of family therapy imaginable.

Set months after the end of Criminal Minds: Evolution. Evolution referenced, but not necessary to understand the story.

Chapter Summary: Spencer and Emily have a moment to talk.

Read chapter 8 on AO3 or under the cut. All comments and reblogs are extremely appreciated <3 I would love to know what you like about the story :)

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7

It was strange how rapidly time had lost all sense of meaning. Days ceased to exist. Hours, minutes, none of it meant anything.These words had been repeated devoid of context or reference so many times they had become completely divorced from the concepts they represented.

He had come to conceptualize of time in the form of bags of fruit.

All that existed in the world was the intervals between fruit deliveries. Those dire stretches of waiting to see if the next thing to come through that door would be doom, or just another bag with too much citrus and not enough apples.

He never thought he would miss fruit again. In fact, he strongly suspected that after leaving the bunker (if they ever did), none of them would ever eat another piece of fresh fruit as long as they lived.

Yet here he was, longing for it.

Since waking up in the stripped bare and scrubbed clean bunker, the clock had stopped.

There had been no more fruit.

Not a single delivery by which to set their metaphorical watches.

Time was transmogrifying once again, warping to fit the shape of this new reality.

It was stretching thin like a long piece of thread. The longer the thread pulled, the hungrier they all got. Once the thread pulled taught and snapped… Well, he didn’t want to think too much about it.

He knew all the theory behind starvation. He did not want to apply this knowledge in practice.

After a week (a week? 14 bags of fruit) in the bunker, they had given up the idea of sleeping in shifts. For the sake of their own sanity, they had decided it was necessary to maintain a routine. Some bastardized semblance of night and day under the endless fluorescent light.

How strange to yearn for the sense of safety they had back then, before the gas. He vowed to never again think ‘it couldn’t be worse,’ because it could be. It always could be.

They had once again taken to sleeping in shifts.

Each of them was desperate to be alerted the very moment food was delivered through that horrid, immovable door. If it ever was again.

They wanted someone awake at all times to look for the trickle or gas from the vent. If it happened again while they were all asleep, they wouldn't be able to cobble together their makeshift masks and protect themselves in some small way.

None of them wanted to have what happened to him, happen to them.

His throat didn't hurt much anymore, at least. He wished he could say the same for his stomach.

It was himself and Emily that were on watch this time. The others slept on the far side of the room, away from the door. He sat nearer the door while Emily paced back and forth. It took a while for the others to fall still and slip into a deeper sleep. They were, understandably, not particularly relaxed.

The cold concrete floor didn’t make for a comfortable bed. Thin, crappy mattresses: Another luxury of days gone by that he found himself dreaming of.

At last, Emily stilled her pacing and looked across at their companions. They had both kept as silent as they could for…. Hours? Minutes? The time it takes for a partially eaten apple to turn an unappetizing brown?

Whatever criteria she had been looking for to assure herself they were in a deep enough sleep, she apparently saw it.

She sat beside him, knees pulled up to her chest, and spoke softly. The room was big enough you could scarcely hear a whisper from the other side even when you were trying, so there wasn’t much danger of bothering them.

“I’m going out of my mind,” she said urgently. “It feels so stupid to say it, as it’s clearly the least of our problems, but I am so bored I could tear my hair out.”

“I understand,” he said. “There are only so many games of mental chess I can play before I start mentally flipping the board.”

She snorted, then hushed herself with a sheepish glance at the others. He smiled.

They were silent again for a moment. It was kind of nice to have some time with her without the others watching. She was the only one who never made him feel pitied.

Soon, though, in as little time as it would take to peel an orange, something in the silence shifted.

He glanced over and saw her her eyes fixed on him, looking as if she had something she wanted to say.

He was tempted to cut her off before she had a chance. He was so sick of everyone trying to make him talk.

He sighed.

He was too tired and too hungry and too bored and too lonely.

“What is it?” he asked quietly.

Her gaze softened. “Why didn’t you talk to me?”

He stared at her, deliberately blank. “About what?”

“Don’t be an asshole,” she said, elbowing him in the ribs lightly.

He smirked. “No really, is there something specific on your mind? Something in particular about me that has you concerned? I wouldn't know.”

She punched him in the upper arm, this time not so lightly. “You’re such a bitch sometimes, do you know that?”

She shoved him and he shoved her back. He leaned his head against the wall with a soft laugh. For a moment they both just breathed.

“Why didn’t you talk to me about John Cooley?” asked Spencer. “He died a year and half ago and I didn’t even know.”

“Because I felt guilty and ashamed,” she admitted candidly. “And because you weren’t around for me to talk to. You haven’t been for a while now.”

He looked down at the floor. “You’re right. I’m sorry,” he said earnestly.

“You don’t need to be sorry,” she said. “Just… You know I’m not judging you, right? I’m worried about you, sure, but I don’t think any less of you. Even if you never get clean, I still love you.”

“I know,” he said softly. A beat. “Why? Why aren’t you judging? Everyone else is.”

She didn’t try to convince him otherwise. They both knew he was right. The others might love him, and a couple of them might try to convince him they weren't judging, but they couldn’t help it. It changed the way they saw him, and he understood why. It changed the way he saw himself.

After a while, Emily said, “I think you and I are alike in a lot of ways. I don’t have to tell you that I’ve made some self-destructive choices in my time. I think... I don’t know… I think I want people to know me? Really know me. But I only show them the parts I want them to see, never the full picture. Then, I feel hurt that they don’t really understand me even though I never gave them the chance. Sound familiar?”

He looked her up and down. He thought about all the times he resented them all for not understanding what he was struggling with. He thought about how much more he resented them when they tried to talk to him about it.

He nodded.

He asked: “What would you have done if I had come to you with this?”

“I would have tried to help you.”

“Help me stop using?”

She mused on that for a second. “Yes, but also helped you get whatever support you needed to address why you’re using in the first place,” she said evenly.

“And if I told you I didn’t want that?”

She tilted her head thoughtfully. One of the others stirred for a moment but settled quickly. “I would have told you that you couldn’t work on cases anymore until you addressed the problem,” she admitted. “It’s not safe. You know that.”

He nodded again. “That's what I thought. That's also why I haven't come back to the BAU yet. I wasn't ready to choose. Being a profiler, or…” he left the other option unsaid.

“And now? Do you know what you want?”

“I want,” he said, “for all of us to get out of this bunker.”

“After that?”

He looked at her, wanting to reassure her. To give her some small ray of hope and promise her that he wanted to change. But she knew him too well and he respected her too much to pretend, so he said nothing.

The furrow of her brow informed him that she understood his silence all too well.

“Please don’t take this the wrong way, Spence, but… you know you’re not okay, right? I mean,” she gestured broadly at the room, “obviously none of us are okay. But aside from all this. Whether or not you choose to get help, you do recognize that this isn’t a good way to live?”

His stomach twisted. “I don’t know.” It's not as if his life had been better when he was clean. He didn’t want to think too much about it.

"Heroin, Spencer. You know the risks. I get it, it's more economical than medical grade pharmaceuticals. I bet a habit is hard to support while you're also paying for your mothers care, even on a salary like yours. It adds up." He wanted to yell at her to stop profiling him, to stop talking, but all he could do was look at his hands as he wound them together absently. She powered on, "It could be cut with anything. You can only be so careful."

"What do you want me to say?" he whispered.

“I don't know. I guess I just want to understand. Do you… do you want to die?”

He felt a jolt in his chest, as if he was falling. Her voice sounded small. Frightened. Desperately unlike the Emily Prentiss he knew.

“No,” he assured her. “I am not suicidal. I'm not John. You don't have to worry about that."

“Do you want to live?”

A beat.

Did he? Of course he did. Of course he wanted to live. “Yes,” he said, knowing immediately that it had taken him too long to say it.

She frowned. “One last one, and this might be the hard one,” she said. “Would you still want to live if you couldn’t get high anymore?”

A beat.

“I-” his breath hitched. “I don’t think this is really the time or the place for this conversation,” he said shortly, a lump forming in his throat.

A hand entangled itself in his and squeezed gently. He stared at the far wall, blinking back moisture that threatened to spill. After a few seconds, a head came to rest on his shoulder.

“Just promise me you won’t disappear on me when we get out of here. Let’s keep talking, even when neither of us have anything good to say,” she whispered.

He closed his eyes. When we get out. Maybe he could believe it if he just tried hard enough. “I promise.”

They sat together in silence for... a minute? An hour? The time it takes to eat half a bag of fruit?

His head was lolling down, eyes heavy, when Emily’s hushed voice jolted him back into alertness.

“So,” she started with a conspiratorial whisper, “would you really fuck Luke? Because you did not have to think about that answer at all.”

“Shut up,” he snapped back, burying his face in his hands. “It was just a game.”

She smiled wryly. “Do you like like him?” she goaded.

He laughed just a little too loud. Emily hushed him and he rushed to stifle it. They looked over to their sleeping friends. A couple of them stirred briefly but did not wake.

Spencer replied in a careful whisper, “No. You’re being childish.”

She narrowed her eyes, assessing him coolly. “But you would sleep with him, wouldn’t you?”

It wasn’t a question.

"Is it too late to go back to talking about my drug use?"

"Yep! We're talking about this now. Answer the question."

He didn’t know how to respond, so he just shrugged. Apparently, it was all the answer she needed. Her eyes widened.

“I knew it!” she exclaimed victoriously, followed instantly by slapping her hand over her mouth.

A series of groans emanated from across the room. Hotch was the fastest to his feet, followed by Derek, both looking at Emily questioningly, poised as if ready to fight.

“What do you know? What’s happening?” asked Derek, rubbing his eyes.

“I’m so sorry,” said Emily sheepishly while Spencer laughed at her. “I didn’t mean for that to be so loud. Everything is fine please go back to sleep,” she insisted.

“Too late for that,” said JJ, stretching her arms above her head and yawning.

“Did something happen?” asked Rossi. “Any new deliveries?”

“No,” said Emily to a room full of discouraged, gaunt faces. “Just Spencer and I talking shit."

“Oh yeah?” said Derek with a slanted smirk, glancing between Emily and Spencer. “What were you talking about that’s got you so worked up?”

Emily met Spencer’s eyes for a fraction of a second. He hoped it was enough for her to understand. This was not the setting in which he wanted to have that conversation.

“We were talking about the most trouble we ever got in at school,” she said without missing a beat. “I always knew Spencer was more of a troublemaker than he lets on.”

“Why am I not surprised?” said Derek with a laugh.

“Well, let’s hear it then,” prompted Rossi, still bleary eyed.

“It’s not that bad,” Spencer said, glad that Emily had provided a deflection he could work with so easily. “I was suspended one time in an otherwise exceptional academic career.”

“What could you have possibly done that was bad enough to make them suspend you? The positive media attention you must have been bringing the school would have been invaluable. I would have thought you could get away with anything," said JJ, her old public relations training never too far below the surface.

It was true. Prodigious geniuses could bring a lot of additional funding and opportunities for schools. That didn’t necessarily mean his teachers liked him or felt particularly protective of him.

“It wasn’t a big deal,” he prefaced. “It was right before I graduated, after I’d received early admission from Cal Tech. There were some older kids at school who had given me a hard time for the past few years,” to put it mildly, “and since I was going to be leaving, I decided I may as well…” he waved his hand in the air, trying to conjure the right words.

“Fuck up their shit?” Derek supplied.

Spencer smiled. “Pretty much. Most of them were preparing for their final exams and I found out that they had paid to access answer keys for some of the tests. My plan was to find out who they were getting the answer keys from and swap out the documents with incorrect keys,” he explained.

“That is a very you approach to vengeance,” said Rossi.

“Unfortunately, it didn’t quite go to plan. I found out their source was from the high school that a friend of mine attended. When I asked my friend for help, he, uh, had some other ideas about how I should be getting back at them. He’d had some similar problems with kids at his own school, but he wasn’t graduating quite as early as me, so I think he was trying to get some vicarious catharsis, maybe.”

Hotch cocked his head. “Ethan,” he said, and Spencer’s stomach twisted. “I remember you talking about him.”

The others nodded in recognition. Emily tilted her head at him curiously. He was sure they all remembered him talking about Ethan, as it was followed very quickly by him absconding from his duties to go visit his old friend during the Ripper case in New Orleans.

“Yeah. Ethan wasn’t as, how should I say this? Reserved, as I was. He thought I should take more extreme measures and I might have let him talk me into it,” he said sheepishly.

“What did you do?” asked Emily, leaning in, apparently forgetting that she was pretending that she’d already heard this story right before waking the others.

Nobody seemed to notice. Or maybe they did, but just didn’t care.

“We- well, the plan was we were going to break into school at night and put, um…” he didn’t want to say it. “This is so embarrassing. We were going to put marijuana in their lockers and then tip off the principal to do a search.”

JJ gasped. “That is devious,” she said with mock indignation.

"Man, with everything you've told me about those assholes, they probably deserved a lot worse than that," said Derek, shaking his head.

“Weren’t you 12 when you graduated high school? How did you even know where to get pot?” asked Emily.

“I didn’t,” he clarified. “I mean, it's Vegas, so it wouldn't have been difficult, but Ethan was the one driving the whole thing. All he had to do was steal it from his father.”

“So how is it that two geniuses with a perfect plan and a thirst for vengeance manage to screw up badly enough to get suspended?” asked Derek, eyes brighter than Spencer had seen them since they had woken up after the gas.

“It would have gone off without a hitch. I was picking the padlocks; Ethan was keeping lookout. I was terrified the entire time, but honestly? It was exciting to feel like I was finally able to fight back. Unfortunately, Ethan hadn’t accounted for just how much of a bastard his father was.”

The others seemed surprised at Spencer describing someone in that way, let alone his friend's father. They wouldn’t be surprised if they had met the man. Spencer didn’t think of himself as a judgemental person, but bastard was a mild description of Ethan’s father.

Hotch grimaced. “I suspect I know where this is going.”

Of course he did. Ethan would like Hotch, he thought. The two of them had a lot in common despite their contrasting personalities.

“His father reported us to the police. I still don't know what he told them, but they caught us trespassing on school grounds after hours. We got lucky and heard them coming just in time to run for the bathroom and flush the remaining evidence. They didn’t think to do a sweep of the lockers and the boys who we were trying to set up certainly weren't going to report drugs in their lockers."

The memories came to him as they always did; crisp and clean as if it had all happened yesterday. Ethan was wearing a thick blue jumper even though it was warm out. The taller police officer was named Michael Diaz and he laughed when Spencer begged him not to tell his mom, then called her anyway.

"Oh god,” he breathed. He was surprised by the pang of shame that shot through his heart. “I was so afraid of what my mom was going to think. They were going to tell her that we were there to get high and I was scared she wouldn't believe me when I told her the truth,” he said tightly, closing his eyes and pinching the bridge of his nose. “I didn’t want her to think that I could be stupid enough to do something like that.”

The irony wasn’t lost on any of them. Suddenly, the story didn’t seem so funny.

It had seemed so obvious to him at that age. Right and wrong were as easy as asking himself, would this disappoint my mom?

He could tell them how the story ended.

Ethan willingly took the blame for everything before Spencer could say a word and got hit with a misdemeanor charge for trespassing. Thankfully, that was all they could prove. He was a juvenile first-time offender with a glowing academic record, so the case was dismissed, but that didn’t stop his father from beating the shit out of him for it.

Spencer’s mom didn’t pick up the phone when the police tried to call her, so officer Diaz drove him home. When the school sent a letter informing her that he was suspended, he tore it up and told her he was feeling too sick to go in. She never questioned it. She just seemed happy to have him home.

He could tell them all of that.

But he didn’t need to.

It was hard to look back at that 12 year old boy and imagine how he could become the kind of man who his mother would be ashamed of if she only knew the truth.

“Did you ever talk to your mom about what happened in Georgia? About everything that came after?” asked JJ gently.

“Of course not,” he answered quickly. “What good would that do?”

“It might make you feel better,” she offered. “I think she would understand.”

“She already worries about me so much. She’s not well. It wouldn’t help anything to worry her more.” She would probably forget it right after he told her, anyway. He sighed. “I hope someone’s checking in on her.”

“I’m sure Penelope is,” said Emily, setting a hand on his shoulder. “I’m sure the others are looking out for all of our families,” she said to the room. “I know it doesn’t feel like it, but we’re going to be okay. You're going to see them again. I promise you; we’re going to make it out of this.”

Hotch nodded at her, a gesture of support. “Emily is right. I know we’re all exhausted and scared and hungry, but we know that there are people on the outside who are looking for us. We have to trust them to do their jobs.”

"It's not gonna matter much if we starve in here," said Derek ruefully.

“The thing about hunger,” said Rossi, “is that sooner than later it’s going to fuck with your head in ways you don’t expect. But it won’t last forever. It doesn’t fit the profile for her to starve us and if we're right about either her or her accomplice having medical training, then they won't let it go too far. As hard as it sounds, we have to try to keep morale up, and the best way to deal with hunger is distraction. So let’s cut it with the melancholy and find a way to keep ourselves entertained. Reid,” he said. Spencer stared at him questioningly. “Have you ever considered narrating an audiobook?” he asked with a raised eyebrow.

“No?”

Audiobooks were not his preferred medium. He found them unbearably slow.

“Too bad. Because I think a good book is just what the situation calls for and as the only one of us with an eidetic memory, you’ve drawn the short straw.”

Spencer couldn’t help but crack a small smile, doing his best impression of a man who wasn't hollow inside. “As long as I get to choose the book.”

“Naturally.”

The thread of time stretched longer, pulled taught, crept ever closer to breaking. He hungered. It gnashed and gnawed, making his stomach turn and his forearm itch and he couldn't say for sure which hunger he would satisfy first if he had the choice.

But he pushed it down. In his mind, he ran his finger along a row of books in a vast library, and thought about what story would best bring them all a little comfort.

[kodared]

☆ Welcome home Neighbor~! ☆

-----------

You explain everything to Howdy.

Chapter 6/?

Word Count: 4,172 Out of 16,669

Your body felt as if it had been wrapped in the softest hand-spun silk known to man, your legs shifting underneath the blanket to savor its warmth on your legs.

 The warm comfort of sleep tempted you to be lulled back into its embrace before you realized the spare blanket Howdy gave you was much more coarse than this comforter currently atop of you. 

You sat up quickly, the lack of windows disrupting your internal clock as you struggled to piece together what time it was. The large bed contained only you, which left you to wonder where was Howdy?  

Your hands cautiously threw themselves about in the dark, hoping to hit or grab ahold of a lamp to give you some sense of reality. Your hand thankfully grabbed onto a dangling lamp switch, pulling down softly with a “Click” The room was overtaken by the warm light of the lamp. 

You didn't have to worry about where Howdy was for long before you saw the sleeping man curled up on the floor with a few spare blankets and pillows, the sight would have made you laugh if it wasn't for the fact it was your fault he had to sleep there and not on his own bed. 

Exceeding great caution you stepped off of the bed, grossly underestimating the sheer size of it. 

You slid off the bed lacking all sense of grace, one of your knees hitting the floor as you tried desperately to silence your groan in pain... That would leave a bruise and you knew it, Howdy stirred in his sleep, the pile of blankets shifting to reveal the man's disshelved face.

His hair again stuck up in all sorts of directions, his antennae twitched as his eyes groggily opened, one of his hands raised to shield his eyes from the light coming off of his lamp, 

“Hmgh…? Oh!”    If he had any sense of confusion left, it vanished once he saw you were awake, 

He sat up, wriggling himself from the blankets that bound his arms to sit up properly, 

“Y/N..!  Happy to see you're awake,” 

You quickly shifted yourself off of your knees and moved to sit criss-cross facing Howdy, mhm yep you totally meant to fall and wake him up, such a clever human you were, 

“Good morin Howd’s, How’d you sleep..?” 

Your eyebrows creased as you took in the man's appearance in depth, his hair was askew more than usual, and his eyes somehow held small wrinkles under them. Indicating he didn't sleep as well as he would've hoped, Howdy was a very organized man after all,

“Mm, I slept alright,” 

Noticing your distress he moved to change the subject, his hand raising again to wipe his eyes before he continued his thought, 

“Howre you feeling Y/N..? I know ya’ had a rough night last night,” 

You recalled the night before very well to your dismay. You wished you had just stayed in bed and didn't worry about your hair for once. 

“I'm feeling better now Howdy, Im sorry for making you sleep on the floor, you could've just put me back in the living room I would've been fine,” 

You tried not to come off as ungrateful, you would forever be in debt to the man after all. Your eyes met the floor again as your arms crossed against your chest, if you could curl into a ball and cease existing you would've. 

Howdy looked more concerned than anything, his antennae drooped as he scooted himself over to you, sitting against the bed beside you as he wrapped an arm around your shoulders,

“Now what's gotcha’ thinking you don't deserve a helping hand? I didn't mind sleepin' on the floor! I did it a lot as a small caterpillar,” 

Your head had already begun to sink into your knees as you shifted positions, now you really wanted to curl up and die. 

Howdy had been nothing but nice to you and yet you still hadn't told him the truth about how you got here. 

“...”   You couldn't see it but his spare hands clenched in worry as his eyes focused on your posture, 

“I gotta feeling this isn't about me sleeping on the floor Y/N..”  

His hand that was resting on your shoulder applied pressure, allowing you to lean into him if you so wished. 

“What's eatin’ ya up inside? I won't tell a soul, Promise.” 

You lifted your head as you looked into Howdys eyes, your tears threatening to spill over at the slightest inconvenience, You felt vulnerable. And as much as you didn't like it, Howdy deserved to know. 

“I… I know how I got here. And it wasn't through a missing cat or missing dog.” 

His eyes widened as you spoke, he didn't pry for you to speak when you didn't wish to, he occupied his hands by rubbing soothing circles into your back with his lower hand. 

It took you a few moments to compose yourself, your eyes glued to the floor again as you sniffled before continuing. 

“I had left with my friends one night, we were going to trespass on an old Studio for spare files so we could sell them. Of course, I tagged along, I was so dumb to do it Howd’s, I had a bad feeling from the start.”

You stopped your long-winded rant to take a breath, your chest felt tight despite your arms unfolding from your chest to emote with them, you continued, still not meeting Howdys gaze.

“So I went into this Studio, heard footsteps, and I..” 

You deluged deep into your brain. Wracking for words to describe the sheer panic you felt before arriving here.

“I felt eyes. Howdy there were so many eyes on me, I know because I felt them. I was so scared, and dizzy… And then I woke up here, but… The studio published things too..” 

Finally gathering the courage to meet Howdys eyes, you saw his eyebrows knitting together as his face looked panicked. Whether he was panicked for you or for what you were

 about to say was lost to you as you continued. 

You reached into your jacket, unfolding the various papers that had been safely stored within, all of which contained pictures of Howdy and his friends, some with frightening headlines.

As you handed them off to Howdy you made sure to hold onto the ones with headlines painting him as “demonic”, he didn't deserve to read that. 

His eyes scanned over the papers, his hands shaking as he carefully cradled them in his hands as if they were prized porcelain. 

He didn't need to say anything, you knew he was scared. You wished you never told him, and oh how you wished this could just all be a bad dream. 

Howdy didn't say anything for a good long while after that, his hand even halted in his soothing motion on your back. You reserved yourself to hide your face in your knees before Howdy took in a deep breath, letting it out slowly. 

“Yknow I always knew there was something interestin’ about you Y/N,” 

A small breathy laugh left his mouth as he spoke, his voice almost sounding… Relieved? 

You rose your head from your knees as he continued, still not meeting his eyes. 

“Thank you for telling me y/n, I know it must've been scary for you.” 

His hand resumed its comforting motions on your back, you were confused. He should be mad, hell. He should be casting you out of his house, leaving you for the wolves. 

None of that anger came though... 

“...I don't get it,” 

You lifted your head meeting his gaze, his eyes held no anger, all you could see was a pure, genuine, concern. 

“You should be mad... Not consoling me, I… I held this information from you for so long, you've been nothing but nice to me too..” 

Howdy looked shocked as you continued, clearly not expecting you to say that, 

“You could have told me the day you left Y/N and I would still be your friend.” 

Your body shuddered as you broke into crying, again. This whole situation had you on edge, you were scared, and you dont know what you would do if you hadn't met Howdy. 

You put all of your weight into Howdy, allowing him to be your support as he pulled you in for a hug. You have never felt this loved before in your life, and it felt nice to have support. 

It took you a few minutes to compose yourself again, wiping your eyes as you leaned off of Howdy and taking the papers back as he held them to you. 

“Well, I suppose that explains how you got here... But we still need to find a way to getcha home..”   Howdy said with a hint of sadness in his voice, 

You nodded, folding the papers and placing them back inside your pocket. The remnants of where the pocket was sewn up still remain from the previous night. 

“...Speaking of which Howdy, there's one more thing about last night I need to tell you..” 

“You got the floor lovebug’” 

Shaking off the cute nickname Howdy gave you, you continued. 

“Last night, I saw Wally, but he felt… off.  His eyes were huge and he chased me with something in his hand... I think he may know how I got here,” 

Howdy stood off of the floor, offering you a hand, which you politely took, allowing him to steady you on your shaky feet. 

“Wally always has wide eyes Y/N, He may have just been tryin’ to hand you somethin’”

You didn't expect Howdy to 100% believe you anyways, your head drooped again, Howdy was quick to comfort you, 

“..But if it makes ya feel any better Y/N I won't let him do nothin’ to ya, Your always safe and welcome here.” 

Oh how you loved this bug, you perked up instantly as he opened his bedroom door, gesturing for you to follow. 

“For now we gotta get you some food! Frank told me humans liked routine when eating,”

 You let yourself laugh as you followed Howdy out and upstairs into his office, with him gesturing to the shop with his lower hands, 

“Feel free to grab anything! I'm gonna get dressed for the day ahead,” 

You nodded and walked out into the shop, the cold tile feeling nice on your feet in the early morning. The sun had already risen in the sky, you and Howdy must have slept in, 

And as you saw Frank outside holding a Net you definitely knew you and Howdy slept in… 

You slowly walked to the doors, moving to greet Frank and invite him into Howdys shop, surely he wouldn't mind if you helped out a neighbor before he got dressed. 

Frank was quick to walk into the Store, looking you up and down as he did so, clearly still analyzing you, 

Disregarding that you still gave him a polite greeting,

“Good morning Frank! Howdy will be out soon, do you need help finding anything?”

It was the least you could do for Howdy after all, Frank took his attention off of you and began walking to the produce section, not returning your greeting. 

You knew he was the quiet type so you didn't take offense when he ignored you, returning to your spot behind the counter after grabbing an orange, and beginning to peel it before Frank spoke up from across the store, 

“I still have questions from yesterday I meant to ask.” 

You looked up from the orange you were peeling to see him walking to the Counter holding a few apples and carrots, you set your half-peeled orange down and looked for Howdys bags, 

“Ask away Frank!”    You liked how upfront he was with how he felt, even if it may come across as blunt to others, you found comfort in his straightforward nature. 

“First question, How do you eat?” 

You guessed that question made sense, seeing as you never ate at Barnaby's the previous night before. Your body was still punishing you for your poor eating habits... 

“Well, I eat with my teeth,”

You finally found the paper bags Howdy used and began to bag Frank's produce as you continued, 

“I just put it in my mouth and chew,” 

“Do they help you with speaking too?” 

You assumed Frank was talking about your teeth so you finished bagging his items and sat back down, holding your Orange again as you continued to peel it. 

“Yeah! My tongue does most of the work though,” 

To emphasize your point you stuck your tongue out at Frank similar to how you would at your friends if they teased you too much before pulling it back in, Frank's eyes were filled with curiosity as you did so. 

“My tongue also lets me taste the food I eat, like this orange,” 

You tore off a slice and held it for emphasis, 

“This orange is citrusy, and I know that because when I eat it I taste it,” 

You popped it into your mouth and chewed to savor the flavor as opposed to just swallowing it whole like your hungry brain wanted. 

Frank watched with great curiosity, you felt embarrassed to be eating in front of someone so you quickly chewed and swallowed after realizing he was staring, while pushing Frank his groceries, 

“Andd for payment I have a question for you Frank!” 

You copied what Howdy did for you as payment, this didn't seem like a very sound business practice but there seemed to be no money here anyways, 

Frank just nodded and took his groceries in one hand while he watched you still, You tried not to pay any mind to his staring, 

“Do you eat and taste things?”   

 It seemed to be a fair question, he was getting food after all, 

He thought for a second, his foot tapping on the tile floor as he pondered before speaking, 

“I do, but it's not in the way that you do it Seems.” 

Frank took a breath before continuing, 

“I know what Apples and Carrots Should taste like, However, I cannot actually eat them in the way you do, my Butterflies are an exemption to this though, Thus being why I'm here.” 

You ate another slice of your orange before he mentioned owning butterflies, now that caught your attention for sure, 

“You own butterflies?” 

“Im an Entomologist, I study and Classify the various bugs here.” 

That definitely made sense now that you thought about it... But wouldn't Howdy being a caterpillar make it weird to own Butterflies? 

…..Can he turn into a Butterfly?? 

Brushing off those thoughts you continued speaking to Frank,

“That's super cool! Maybe sometime I can come over and see them while I'm in town!” 

“Highly unlikely, You don't seem like one to enjoy bugs.” 

…Okay ouch, you guessed this is why his name was Frank Frankly, he was blunt. 

Frank took notice of your hurt expression as he turned to leave, he halted for a moment, 

“...That was a joke, Eddie told me it helps make friends.” 

You perked up at that and gave Frank a smile, Frank and Eddie seemed good for each other. You gave him a wave before he left the store, Howdy appeared from the Office as Frank left. 

Howdy had a big goofy grin on his face as he walked out before speaking,

“You did amazing little Caterpillar!!” 

He hugged you for the second time today, you were quick to set your orange down so it didn't get crushed, you were beginning to think Howdy was just affectionate, 

“Whad’th i do,” 

Muffled by his hug he finally let go, his big grin still glued to his face, 

“You helped and even checked out a Customer! Thank you by the way,” 

His big goofy grin was replaced by a bashful smile as he backed up and walked away, sorting the shelves as he walked, 

“It was no problem really! Frank’s nice, he seems smart too, he could maybe even help me home if I told him what has been going on..” 

Howdy stopped sorting for a second, if you hadn't been paying attention to him you wouldn't have even noticed, As he spoke his voice still held a sad tinge to it, 

“Yeah, he could..! Speakin’ of seein’ people, don't you got the Spa day with Wally and Julie today?” 

Howdy seemed to shake off the sadness that took hold of him, turning his head to playfully wink at you as he picked up a stray can from the shelf. 

“You need to get ready! It's already Noon lil Monarch!” 

Your face flushed as you hurried to finish your orange, throwing the peel in the trash under Howdys counter before scurrying off into Howdys office, you didn't want to leave Julie and Wally waiting after all. 

You could hear Howdy letting out a genuine laugh as you shut the Office door and took off for the bathroom, you were used to getting ready fast but that was in your own home, and you also didn't exactly have many outfits apart from the ones Sally lent you. 

After a few minutes of freshening up in the bathroom, you took a look in the mirror and tried not to focus on your eyebags as you shot the mirror a smile before leaving, 

Slipping on your shoes you walked out into the Shop and saw a familiar tall bird talking with Howdy, her wing covering her beak as she laughed while Howdy spoke, 

“..- And then I said, Barnaby your a dog but your not a hot one..!” 

You let a smile form on your face as you watched the two interact, Poppy eventually looking over behind the counter to see you, her face lighting up instantly as she moved her wing from her face,

You couldn't think for much longer before Poppy ran over to you, fanning her wings as she spoke, 

“Oh, you look absolutely Darlin’ in Sally's outfit she made ya! Ooo I just knew Howdy would take good care of ya Y/N!” 

You walked from behind the counter, Poppy giving you room to move as you looked up at her still smiling, 

“Haha, yeah! It's nice to see you Ms.Partridge!” 

Her feathers rustled and puffed as you realized all too late you accidentally called her by her last name again, 

“M’Dear I told you already there's no need for the Formalities! Now have you been eatin' alright? Just say the word and ill fix you up a lovely Pastry!” 

You didn't even have to say anything before your stomach growled, your face blushing again as you tried desperately to say an excuse and that you weren't hungry, 

Of course, she didn't care, already frantically walking back to Howdy to ask for more flour and blueberries, 

“..- Howdy! I need your finest Flour, Baking powder, and Blueberries! This poor dear is practically wasting away-!” 

Howdy shook his head and motioned for you to go ahead and be on your way to Julies, internally thanking him as you walked by quickly, If Poppy was anything like your relatives she will be baking up a storm later. 

The walk to Julies was uneventful apart from spotting Eddie running to Barnabys carrying a conveniently dog-bone-shaped box, you tried to give him a wave but you supposed he was in too much of a rush to notice you, 

It didn't take long for you to spot a mailbox with Julie's name written on it, as you walked to her door you took notice of her heart-themed windows and doormat, she did come off as a pink kinda girl, 

Your hand hadn't even made it to the door before it swung open, revealing a hyper Julie... 

… And a Wally behind her with his hair down in Curlers… 

“I was wondering where you were Y/N! Me and Wally already started on our hair!” 

Despite her saying they started on their hair, Julie's hair looked to be virtually untouched apart from a few extra hairclips, 

“Haha, yeah I ran a tad late, me and Howdy slept in a bit..” 

You gave Julie a genuine smile as you apologized for being late, you moved side to side on your feet awkwardly before Wally spoke from behind her, 

“that's quite alright Neighbor, your here now, which reminds me,” 

Wally turned around and walked into Julie's house, Julie only shrugged with her big smile still plastered on her face, and took your hand to bring you into the house. 

As you entered you were welcomed with various pastel colors, and a very well kept Living room with various arts and crafts scattered about, 

“Don't mind the mess, Eddie stopped by earlier!” 

Julie pushed a few stray papers off of the table as she made you sit on her couch, motioning for you to get comfortable, 

“Does Eddie like Arts and crafts?” 

Your eyes landed on a paper chain made of various papers and colors, 

“Oh you betcha! Eddie loves just about anything with paper, he likes to make chains with them, origami…” 

Julie raised her hand to count off what Eddie enjoyed about Arts an crafts as you sink further into the soft couch, 

Wally came to your rescue thankfully, holding a red hairbrush, you had almost completely forgotten about that, 

“Ah! Thank you Wally!” 

You accidentally cut off Julie in surprise to see Wally holding the hairbrush, Julie didn't seem to mind as she walked off to her bathroom to gather various Spa items, 

Wally sat next to you on the couch, you held out your hand for him to give it to you, but he never did. 

“its no problem neighbor, i forgot to run it by howdys yesterday..” 

“I thought I saw you at Howdys yesterday night though?” 

You couldn't stop yourself before the words left your lips, swallowing down your anxiety as you tried to steady your breathing, bracing for his response. 

Wally let out a laugh as he spoke, 

“Ha ha ha, sorry neighbor you must have been mistaken, i never left home last night,”

You were quick to run with it, a faint static feeling buzzed behind your eyes in your skull. 

“Oh yeah sorry.. I guess I was tired and remembered wrong,” 

“its alright, we all make mistakes neighbor,” 

Wally moved closer to you on the couch, motioning for you to turn around, you gave him a confused look as he laughed again, 

“turn around so i can brush your hair silly,” 

You weren't particularly keen on allowing him to touch your hair, especially after the conversation the two of you just shared. 

…But you were also an anxious mess and didn't like confrontation. So without much complaint, you turned around and slouched slightly for the small man to brush your hair, 

He was surprisingly gentle, you found yourself relaxing into his touch before he spoke, 

“do all humans have such soft hair?” 

He questioned as he picked through a particularly tough knot, he was very careful to not pull too harshly. 

“I mean, depends on the person I guess, some humans have different types of hair too,” 

Before Wally could continue speaking you heard Julie emerge from the bathroom, holding various face masks and nail polishes, 

She made a shocked face at you and Wally as she set all of her items down, her hands going to her hips as she huffed, 

“I wanted to help brush their hair! I am the hair expert after all!” 

She flipped the corner of her hair in emphasis, a few messily placed hair clips softly hitting the floor as she did so, 

“ha ha ha, sorry julie, you can finish up if you wish,” 

Wally stopped brushing your hair as Julie nodded enthusiastically, the differences between the two were very clear as Julie began brushing your hair. 

Julie didn't seem to take much care into being gentle as Wally did, opting for brushing over the tangles quickly, 

“Julie..! Could you maybe be a bit gentler..? Humans have.. Sensitive scalps” 

You had no clue if that could stand for all humans but Julie seemed to get the point, moving more carefully as she passed over your tangles, it felt nice. 

The buzzing feeling seemed to fade into a comforting hum behind your eyes, similar to an AC unit on a hot day. 

Wally smiled as he watched the two of you before Julie halted in brushing, and excitedly flapped her hands, 

“Oh my gosh! I have the most perfect idea!” 

You and Wally looked at her, Wally letting out a small hum in questioning, 

“We should share this Spa day with Home too!! Yknow, paint them up an make them feel pretty!” 

“that sounds lovely julie, what do you think neighbor?” 

You hadn't met ‘Home’ yet so you supposed it was as good of a time as any to meet the other neighbor, 

“Yeah sure!” 

-----------

Yippie! Hope you all enjoyed! This week ill be working on chipping away at the Requests you all submitted so be looking forward to that!

As always my Ao3 Recieves Chapter releases first, so feel free to follow there as well!

~Till next time! ʕ ꈍᴥꈍʔ

[reasonsforhope]

"If I wanted to convince you of the reality of human progress, of the fact that we as a species have advanced materially, morally, and politically over our time on this planet, I could quote you chapter and verse from a thick stack of development statistics.

I could tell you that a little more than 200 years ago, nearly half of all children born died before they reached their 15th birthday, and that today it’s less than 5 percent globally. I could tell you that in pre-industrial times, starvation was a constant specter and life expectancy was in the 30s at best. [Note: This is average life expectancy, old people did still exist in olden times] I could tell you that at the dawn of the 19th century, barely more than one person in 10 was literate, while today that ratio has been nearly reversed. I could tell you that today is, on average, the best time to be alive in human history.

But that doesn’t mean you’ll be convinced.

In one 2017 Pew poll, a plurality of Americans — people who, perhaps more than anywhere else, are heirs to the benefits of centuries of material and political progress — reported that life was better 50 years ago than it is today. A 2015 survey of thousands of adults in nine rich countries found that 10 percent or fewer believed that the world was getting better. On the internet, a strange nostalgia persists for the supposedly better times before industrialization, when ordinary people supposedly worked less and life was allegedly simpler and healthier. (They didn’t and it wasn’t.)

Looking backward, we imagine a halcyon past that never was; looking forward, it seems to many as if, in the words of young environmental activist Greta Thunberg, “the world is getting more and more grim every day.”

So it’s boom times for doom times. But the apocalyptic mindset that has gripped so many of us not only understates how far we’ve come, but how much further we can still go. The real story of progress today is its remarkable expansion to the rest of the world in recent decades. In 1950, life expectancy in Africa was just 40; today, it’s past 62. Meanwhile more than 1 billion people have moved out of extreme poverty since 1990 alone.

But there’s more to do — much more. That hundreds of millions of people still go without the benefit of electricity or live in states still racked by violence and injustice isn’t so much an indictment of progress as it is an indication that there is still more low-hanging fruit to harvest.

The world hasn’t become a better place for nearly everyone who lives on it because we wished it so. The astounding economic and technological progress made over the past 200 years has been the result of deliberate policies, a drive to invent and innovate, one advance building upon another. And as our material condition improved, so, for the most part, did our morals and politics — not as a side effect, but as a direct consequence. It’s simply easier to be good when the world isn’t zero-sum.

Which isn’t to say that the record of progress is one of unending wins. For every problem it solved — the lack of usable energy in the pre-fossil fuel days, for instance — it often created a new one, like climate change. But just as a primary way climate change is being addressed is through innovation that has drastically reduced the price of clean energy, so progress tends to be the best route to solving the problems that progress itself can create.

The biggest danger we face today, if we care about actually making the future a more perfect place, isn’t that industrial civilization will choke on its own exhaust or that democracy will crumble or that AI will rise up and overthrow us all. It’s that we will cease believing in the one force that raised humanity out of tens of thousands of years of general misery: the very idea of progress.

Changing Humanity's "Normal" Forever

Progress may be about where we’re going, but it’s impossible to understand without returning to where we’ve been. So let’s take a trip back to the foreign country that was the early years of the 19th century.

In 1820, according to data compiled by the historian Michail Moatsos, about three-quarters of the world’s population earned so little that they could not afford even a tiny living space, some heat and, hopefully, enough food to stave off malnutrition.

It was a state that we would now call “extreme poverty,” except that for most people back then, it wasn’t extreme — it was simply life.

What matters here for the story of progress isn’t the fact that the overwhelming majority of humankind lived in destitution. It’s that this was the norm, and had been the norm since essentially… forever. Poverty, illiteracy, premature death — these weren’t problems, as we would come to define them in our time. They were simply the background reality of being human, as largely unchangeable as birth and death itself...

Between 10,000 BCE and 1700, the average global population growth rate was just 0.04 percent per year. And that wasn’t because human beings weren’t having babies. They were simply dying, in great numbers: at birth, giving birth, in childhood from now-preventable diseases, and in young adulthood from now-preventable wars and violence.

It was only with the progress of industrialization that we broke out of [this long cycle], producing enough food to feed the mounting billions, enough scientific breakthroughs to conquer old killers like smallpox and the measles, and enough political advances to dwindle violent death.

Between 1800 and today, our numbers grew from around 1 billion to 8 billion. And that 8 billion aren’t just healthier, richer, and better educated. On average, they can expect to live more than twice as long. The writer Steven Johnson has called this achievement humanity’s “extra life” — but that extra isn’t just the decades that have been added to our lifespans. It’s the extra people that have been added to our numbers. I’m probably one of them, and you probably are too...

The progress we’ve earned has hardly been uninterrupted or perfectly distributed... [But] once we could prove in practice that the lot of humanity didn’t have to be hand-to-mouth existence, we could see that progress could continue to expand.

Current Progress "Flows Overwhelmingly" to the Developing World

The long twentieth century came late to the Global South, but it did get there. Between 1960 and today, India and China, together home to nearly one in every three people alive today, have seen life expectancy rise from 45 to 70 and 33 to 78, respectively. Per-capita GDP over those years rose some 2,600 percent for India and an astounding 13,400 percent for China, with the latter lifting an estimated 800 million people out of extreme poverty.

In the poorer countries of sub-Saharan Africa, progress has been slower and later, but shouldn’t be underestimated. When we see the drastic decline in child mortality — which has fallen since 1990 from 18.1 percent of all children in that region to 7.4 percent in 2021 — or the more than 20 million measles deaths that have been prevented since 2000 in Africa alone, this is progress continuing to happen now, with the benefits overwhelmingly flowing to the poorest among us.

Vanishing Autocracies

In 1800, according to Our World in Data, zero — none, nada, zip — people lived in what we would now classify as a liberal democracy. Just 22 million people — about 2 percent of the global population — lived in what the site classifies as “electoral autocracies,” meaning that what democracy they had was limited, and limited to a subset of the population.

One hundred years later, things weren’t much better — there were actual liberal democracies, but fewer than 1 percent of the world’s population lived in them...

Today just 2 billion people live in countries that are classified as closed autocracies — relatively few legal rights, no real electoral democracy — and most of them are in China...

Expanding Human Rights

All you have to do is roll the clock back a few decades to see the way that rights, on the whole, have been extended wider and wider: to LGBTQ citizens, to people of color, to women. The fundamental fact is that as much as the technological and economic world of 2023 would be unrecognizable to people in 1800, the same is true of the political world.

Nor can you disentangle that political progress from material progress. Take the gradual but definitive emancipation of women. That has been a hard-fought, ongoing battle, chiefly waged by women who saw the inherent unfairness of a male-dominated society.

But it was aided by the invention of labor-saving technologies in the home like washing machines and refrigerators that primarily gave time back to women and made it easier for them to move into the workforce.

These are all examples of the expansion of the circle of moral concern — the enlargement of who and what is considered worthy of respect and rights, from the foundation of the family or tribe all the way to humans around the world (and increasingly non-human animals as well). And it can’t be separated from the hard fact of material progress.

Leaving a Zero-Sum World Behind

The pre-industrial world was a zero-sum one... In a zero-sum world, you advance only at the expense of others, by taking from a set stock, not by adding, which is why wars of conquest between great powers were so common hundreds of years ago, or why homicide between neighbors was so much more frequent in the pre-industrial era.

We have obviously not eradicated violence, including by the state itself. But a society that can produce more of what it needs and wants is one that will be less inclined to fight over what it has, either with its neighbors or with itself. It’s not that the humans of 2023 are necessarily better, more moral, than their ancestors 200 or more years ago. It’s that war and violence cease to make economic sense...

Doomerism, at its heart, may be that exhaustion made manifest.

But just as we need continued advances in clean tech or biosecurity to protect ourselves from some of the existential threats we’ve inadvertently created, so do we need continued progress to address the problems that have been with us always: of want, of freedom, even of mortality. Nothing can dispel the terminal exhaustion that seems endemic in 2023 better than the idea that there is so much more left to do to lift millions out of poverty and misery while protecting the future — which is possible, thanks to the path of the progress we’ve made.

And we’ll know we’re successful if our descendants can one day look back on the present with the same mix of sympathy and relief with which we should look back on our past. How, they’ll wonder, did they ever live like that?"

-via Vox, 3/20/23

Note: I would seriously recommend reading the whole article--because as long as this post is, this is only about half of it! The article contains a lot more information about the hows and whys of human progress, and it also definitely made me cry the first time I read it.

[baewriites]

Chemistry [ Kuroo x fem!reader ]

"WHAT?!" you exclaimed in disbelief when you heard that your school, Nekoma lost against Fukurodani in the prelims, more specifically about your crush, Kuroo Tetsuro losing. Okay they still had a chance of making it to the nationals and...... They did it.

Rainy day, noise of chatter surrounding you and your best friend, Yuki who was mindlessly rambling. Your eyes were searching for a specific person, Kuroo and that's when he entered with his classic smug smile.

He was pretty popular in your school, owing to his somewhat good looks, good grades and since he was the captain of the volleyball team. There was a common perception that he was a fuckboy but in reality he was pretty much a dork who liked to play with balls.

In your peripheral vision, You watched him walk towards you and occupy the seat in front of yours. Did you two know each other? Yes. Did you two talk? No, not really. But there was this slight tension whenever you two made eye contact. Not to mention, both of you made a lot of eye contact.

It's not like you were afraid of talking to him or anything, it's just that...... you don't want to. Who likes socializing anyways? But your polar opposite bestie, Yuki was bent upon on making you two talk and she did succeed at times, but only small talks. But this time, this time she bribed with the latest Jujutsu Kaisen Manga. There was no way in hell you could refuse that offer.

Okay as per the plan you two whispered which probably half of the class heard was that you would go up to him during recess and ask him to teach you chemistry, conveniently ignoring that you were a bigger nerd than him in chem. Anyways simple right? You took a breath and saw Kuroo talking to Kenma, giggling like a teenage girl. Which idiot did you even choose to have a crush on? You sigh and walk towards him and as you were about to ask him for the favour,he interrupted you and said, "Can we study chem together? I have missed out on the new lessons due to the volleyball matches."

"S-sure" the way you mentally cringed and wished to turn into a ball of nothingness and cease to exist when you stuttered in front of him. He said again, "It's okay if you are busy" "No it's fine, what about Friday? After school?" "Sure, I am free"

It was finally D-day, Friday (as per how Yuki worded it). Him and you were sitting poles apart, sparing no glances. Everyone's energy was pretty much non existent as it was the last period. But Yuki? She was rambling and rambling about the delusional things she think would happen today. Although you secretly liked her rambling and delusionships, you still felt shy to admit that but finally you got a little annoyed when she started to give you sex education. Which motherfucker thinks you two will fuck at the first meet already?

The never ending class finally ended. Yuki cheered and left and you were walking alone to the stairs. Suddenly you feel a towering presence and see him. "Could we study at my place? " "Sure", you replied, a little startled. Surprisingly the session went well. Both decided to meet for more lessons.

And a few lessons afterwards, you two had gotten closer. It was pretty interesting to study with him. He is genuinely good at chemistry and is really smart in academics. Plus point that he is helpful smart instead of mean smart. But his humour....... no way it was that bad. He says the most randomest stuff.

Like one time, you two were solving past test papers, pretty quiet, just the shuffling of the pages. His pen stops and he looks at you and with a quiet voice he says, " Y/N.... you know why do I only say bad chemistry jokes?" "Why?" "What do I do? All the good ones ARGON" he said and proceeded to laugh as if it was the funniest thing.

One thing you always wondered about him was his hair, his rooster hair. You always had the urge to pet it. And one time your impulsive thoughts won and you just out of nowhere pet it, not noticing the way his entire face went red.

As for Kuroo, he was a total fool in matters of girl which led to him consulting another genius, Yaku. Kuroo whined, "YAKUNN WHAT DO I DO?" and Yaku replied, almost unbothered, "Confess to her. What else should you do?" Kuroo got a little pissed and yelled, "IS IT THAT EASY? YOU SURELY LACK DOCOSAHEXAENOIC ACID" Yaku yelled back and said, "HUH! SHUT UP YOU ASTAXANTHIN" Both of them kept on screaming until Fukunaga spilled water on them. Then Kuroo decided to ask Nobuyuki instead, who was actually mature. He pretty much praised you saying, "You should confess to her before it's too late. She is a good girl and anyone may take her before you do. Don't delay. And you can play the guitar so just sing her a love song" And our captain, Kuroo chose the most generic song, Perfect by Ed Sheeran but it was his feelings that mattered and his feelings were genuine and strong. And the plan was that he would confess to you at the end of your study session this weekend.

The day came and everything went normally, as it goes everytime. To be honest, you were content with the bond you two have now and didn't want more than that. You were focused when you noticed your phone vibrating from a phone call, It was Yuki and she seemed in an emergency, You quickly arrange your belongings and was about to go, when you heard Kuroo call you from behind. You turn around to see visible panic and hesitation on his face, probably from his plans being ruined and he just blurted out, "You- You know one thing, after studying chemistry with you, I realized that we have a lot of chemistry." And in a hurry you gave him a slight bow with a soft smile, your brain registering it as one of his stupid jokes. And after you left, he was pretty much rethinking his life choices.

What happened was that Yuki had found a stray injured cat and she took it to the vet but she had no money so she sent you to her house to collect money. After the vet you two went to her house and were chilling. Suddenly you remembered what Kuroo told you and you told her.

"YOU IDIOT!" Yuki yelled. "what?" "HE PROPOSED TO YOU!" "When?" "HE LITERALLY TOLD YOU THAT YOU GUYS HAD CHEMISTRY. ARE YOU DUMB OR WHAT? OH GOD" To sum it up, he indirectly asked you out and you just did... nothing. Which idiot did Kuroo even choose to have a crush on?

The following day, you two didn't even look at each other. And Yuki being Yuki was being all menacing. She had to be so much involved and unable to take the obvious awkwardness between you two and the taunts of Yuki, you just decide to ask Kuroo out. What could possibly go wrong?

It was departure time. Everyone was talking on the school ground. He was a little far away from you, walking with his teammates. It's now or never. You approached him and tapped on his shoulder. Then you said, "Kuroo wanna go on a date with me?" You said it really fast, not taking a breath. And the gasp you heard from him was a harm to not only yours but everyone near's eardrums. Everyone was staring at you two . Finally words come out of his mouth,"S-sure" the way he mentally cringed and wished to turn into a ball of nothingness and cease to exist when he stuttered in front of you. Yousaid again, "It's okay if you are busy" "No it's fine, what about Friday? After school?" "Sure, I am free"

A happy ending hehe :)