#just get a woodland sleeve

[youvebeenjynxed]

Get a bunch of woodland creatures like squirrels, mice, and toads

finally at that age where i'm thinking i should get a tattoo. not bc i feel strongly about it, just seems like a waste not to. i've got so much skin i'm not using

[littlechivalry]

Wedding Bell Blues

(no Upside Down AU, meet-ugly, Baker!Steve/wedding singer!Eddie)

--

Eddie is a wedding musician and it's pretty great actually. It's not the rock star life he dreamed of but it's a damned sight better than most people including him expected of Al Munson's little boy.

Eddie gets to play music. For a living. And he does pretty well. He gets to dress up a little snazzy. He gets free fancy food and a couple of drinks. And he gets to shoot his shot with anybody that looks like fun.

He's good at it too. That's the best part. His younger years spent being a low level drug dealer and a high level weirdo mean he can read a room in an instant. He gets the playlist from the bride usually, presses for some other song ideas, and he can tell who to take requests from at six paces. And who to ignore from across the room.

It's a good time.

Unfortunately not all ceremonies can be winners and based on the tension Eddie has felt from almost everyone involved in today's wedding it was going to be a tough gig.

Everything starts in an hour but Eddie isn't on until the reception so he has plenty of time to grab a smoke before soundcheck. He knows the venue pretty well and there's an alcove next to the vendor loading area. Nice flowers, a decent bench, and it's nowhere near the dumpsters.

This venue butts up against a small patch of woodland and Eddie wonders if he might have time to check it out, see if there's anything inspiring. He doesn't hike but he does enjoy a walk in nature.

Before he gets the chance a baby blue van with 'Steve's Sweets' painted across the side pulls up, blocking his sight line.

He mourns the loss of his view right up until the driver pops the door open and climbs out.

Oh, the beauties nature provides.

Acid wash jeans which under any other circumstances Eddie would laugh at are lovingly hugging possibly the finest ass he has ever had the pleasure of seeing.

The rest of the picture - when he can drag his attention away - is pretty choice too. A soft looking pink sweater, sleeves pushed up to expose sun bronzed skin making Eddie idly wonder if the man is that tan all over.

The crowning glory is a gorgeous head of hair framing a face that Eddie can only describe as pretty.

Eddie tries to turn his attention back to his cigarette. Admiring someone is one thing, leering like a creep is entirely different.

He takes a last drag and drops the filter on the gravel, grinding it out under his feet. Mentally he says farewell to the handsome stranger and turns to go back inside.

Eddie takes two steps before a suit clad man comes out of the building and pushes past him in a rush.

"Steven."

The man's not yelling, but his voice is the kind of loud that demands to be heard.

Eddie turns to watch as the man approaches the van and the other guy, Steve apparently, standing in front of it.

"What the hell are you doing here dressed like that."

Eddie should go inside. This isn't his business. But one of the perks of working weddings was the drama and this was very promising.

He stays where he is, standing just in front of the door. In case either man looks in his direction Eddie actually mimes patting at his jacket like he is looking for his smokes.

"I'm delivering a cake, Dick. And if it wasn't for Diana I wouldn't even be doing that much. She deserves to get something good out of this day."

Eddie bites back a smile, lowering his head a little so he can still watch what was happening ideally without being noticed.

"You will refer to me as father. I believe I have earned at least that much respect."

Eddie feels his eyebrows rise. This kind of drama was another part of why he likes weddings. Better than the soap operas he watches with Uncle Wayne.

"Sure," Steve snorts. "Tell you what, I'll compromise," and he continues, "Riiichaaaard."

"Grow up, Steven. You were invited here as a guest. You had better have a tuxedo in that stupid truck of yours, the ceremony starts in an hour."

"I was hired to bake a cake. Part of my fee includes delivery. That is literally the only reason I'm here. You and the future ex-Mrs Harrington will have to celebrate without me. Try not to cry yourself to sleep about it."

"You little asshole," Richard snarls. "You think you're better than me. You think I wanted you here? You owe me your presence. I have important people coming to this wedding and I need them to see my dutiful son at my side."

The baker laughs, a low nasty chuckle that sends a perverse shiver down Eddie's back.

"Tell you what, Dick, I'm booked up today but I'll come to your next wedding." Eddie looks up to see Steve is grinning, bright and as sharp as a knife. "I'll even get you a toaster."

Eddie lurches in place as he sees Richard lunge towards Steve. He is too far away to stop the man but he has to do something.

Before he takes a step the door swings open again and a petite woman comes rushing out.

"Richard?"

Eddie watches as she runs forward tugging at the satin bathrobe she is wrapped in. She freezes a few feet away from what had been brewing into a nasty fight.

"Steve? You're here-- oh, but your suit! Richard? What's going on?"

The older man doesn't turn around, doesn't seem to notice her at all but Eddie watches Steve gingerly move until he is standing between his father and the woman.

"Hey Diana," he says softly. "Sorry you had to see this, dad and me just have a difference of opinion. Everything's fine."

Eddie feels something in him clench. He is very familiar with the tone in Steve's voice. He had heard it from his uncle Wayne to his dad when he was a little kid. It is soft but firm, implacable. Eddie isn't sure exactly what is coming but he can tell Steve knew and that it would be bad.

The venue usually had at least two security patrolling the grounds, more if the reception was expected to be contentious. Eddie doesn't know where they are right now but hopefully not far.

"See what you've done Steven? God, you're useless."

"Richard, don't say that," Diana says, her voice rising.

The older man is turning from pink to red and Eddie can see Steve moving slowly, shifting his father's attention to him.

"That's me, Richard. Useless Steve. Flunked out of college and he bakes cookies like some kind of fairy. You sure you want to parade your failure of a son in front of the hoi polloi?"

Eddie hears Diana's gasp from where he's standing. "Steve, what are you talking about? Richard what's going on?"

Richard turns his glare on her and Eddie feels himself moving forward almost against his own will. He's not sure what he'll do when he gets there but he's never been the bystander type.

Steve just laughs. Bright and angry. "I'm not sure what my father told you about our relationship but we don't have one."

"No," she says. "Your father-- he told me-- "

When Eddie met her a few weeks ago he had seen a confident, charming woman that knew exactly what she wanted and was excited to be married. Now she looks confused, maybe even scared.

Eddie has gotten closer to this whole altercation than he wanted to be but since he is there and it looks like Steve and Richard are busy trying to glare holes in each other Eddie steps up to Diana and lightly grasps her elbow.

She startles and turns to face him. Her eyes are wide, wet and staring.

"Mr. Munson," she asks, softly.

Eddie tries to smile. "Mr. Munson is my uncle, ma'am. It's Eddie. Let's get you out of here, okay? Back inside."

Eddie is able to gently guide her a few steps away. He hates turning his back on the other two men but he needs to get Diana out of reach for whatever is about to happen.

"I dont understand," the bride mutters. "Steve used to be such a sweet boy. Mr. Harrin-- Richard. Oh, I'm so silly. Richard. He said-- this is so embarassing."

Her voice is pitched and tight and if she isn't crying yet she would be soon. Eddie resolves to get her inside and into the arms of literally any friendly face.

"Hey," Eddie says. "Let's just--" he scrambles for a name. Anna? Annie? "Amy, right? Your maid of honor? Let's get you to her, okay. You can sit down."

Diana nods.

Behind him he can hear Richard and Steve hissing noxious words back and forth. There is no shouting but the air is heavy and hot with anger. Even though he was outside Eddie feels like he can't breathe.

Eddie gets Diana to the door, hadn't realized how close they really were, maybe 30 feet if that. It's open, anxious faces framed in weathered oak. He hands Diana off to her Maid of Honor who quickly sweeps the woman deeper into the hall and then he nods to Patricia Abernathy, the event space manager.

"Think we're gonna have a cancellation," he says, nodding towards the departing woman.

She rolls her eyes. "Can't say I'm surprised. I had a bad feeling about this one."

Eddie scoffs. "You have a bad feeling about all of them."

He turns to face where the two men are still in a stand off in front of the van. "You're not wrong though, I think. At least I hope they cancel."

Patricia snorts. "We got the deposits locked down and the contract is airtight so if they cancel we still get fifty percent of the remaining fee. I'll take that for the rest of the day off."

"You got a date, Patty? And it's not me? You're breaking my heart."

"Ha," she says flatly. "That pretty boy is more your type and from the way he's talking you're in with a chance. Now you keep an eye on those two. Security is on their way, we'll see if they can get here before these guys start really butting heads."

Eddie nods. It isn't the first time he had been called on to help manage fractious families.

He turns back in time to see Richard take a swing at Steve. The younger guy steps back out of the way and Eddie can hear his mocking laugh as far away as the door.

He moves closer to the two of them. Eddie isn't going to get in the middle of the fight but maybe if he reminds them there are other people around that might be enough to calm them down.

He watches Richard lunge forward and swing again. This time Steve can't move away fast enough and the blow glances off of his cheek.

"Hey," Eddie calls, now jogging towards them. "Hey, knock it off! You wanna fight take it somewhere else!"

Steve turns to face Eddie, opening his mouth as if he was going to say something but all that comes out is a low grunt as Richard hits him in the shoulder and shoves him to the ground.

Eddie throws himself forward, pushing Richard away. "What do you think you're doing," he shouts in the man's face but Richard doesn't seem to hear, pressing back against Eddie.

"You little bastard," Richard shouts at his son. "You're worthless! I don't know why I bothered."

"Go to hell," Steve replies.

That seems to make Richard even angrier which Eddie hadn't thought was possible. He isn't sure he will be able to hold him off much longer.

"Hey, what's going on here," a low even voice calls. It is the venue security guard, his partner just behind him with a hand on his radio.

Eddie feels himself relax and then stumbles back as Richard pushes him aside to fall on his son again.

Eddie turns to see both guards trying to pull the older man away as he continues to hit his son, screaming obscenities.

Not sure how to help, Eddie stands by. When he sees an opening he lunges forward and takes hold of Steve's shoulders, pulling him back and away.

The younger man fights against him at first, eyes closed and arms up in front of his face.  Eddie figures he probably didn't know whose hands are on him.

"Hey. Hey. It's me, Eddie. Shit. I work here. You're safe, security has your dad. You're safe."

Eddie steps back, loosening his grip on Steve but still keeping one hand on his shoulder, trying to sooth him.

A few feet away Richard is still twisting, trying to get free and attack his son again, but Eddie can see the guards have a good hold on him and it doesn't look like they will be letting go any time soon.

As Steve calms down Eddie lets go of his shoulder, instead crouching next to him. "You doing okay? I saw you had you hands up but he got a few hits in."

Steve lowers his arms and sits upright. He twists his neck back and forth and shifts his shoulders before opening his eyes and looking up at Eddie. "I'm okay. I'm fine. God, it's a soap opera isn't it? Fuck."

Eddie lets himself drop into a seat next to the other man. They both watch in silence as the guards march Steve's father around the corner to the front of the event hall.

"You know the bride? Diana," the guy asks. "She was my babysitter. When I was eleven."

"Oof," Eddie says. "So she was--"

"Seventeen then, and now it's been twenty years for her and about three wives for him."

"Scandalous," Eddie murmurs. He sees Steve smile and feels relieved. "What will people say. The 'hoi polloi' I believe you called them?"

Steve snorts. "A crowd of empty suits that exist solely to tell my dad how respected he is. Will he get arrested?"

"Maybe," Eddie says. "I think that might be up to you. It's assault at least."

"Ugh," Steve says, rubbing his face. "That's all I need. I'm trying to get him out of my life."

"Well," Eddie says. "I can attest that jail is very good at keeping deadbeat dads out of your life."

Steve starts laughing and then winces, wrapping an arm around his stomach.

"Shit, you are hurt," Eddie says, scrambling to his feet. "Do you need an ambulance? Patty probably called 911 by now."

Steve waves him off. "I'm fine. This is not my first fight and my old man hits-- well, I was gonna say 'like a girl' but then my best friend would kick my ass and I'm way more scared of her," Steve says, laughing softly.

He looks up at Eddie and holds out his free hand. "You gonna help me up? Or is chivalry dead?"

"Chivalry," Eddie repeats. "You a damsel in distress?"

"I might as well be," Steve says. "Now come on."

Eddie laughs and reaches down, gently guiding Steve back to his feet. He feels the man's weight leaning on him for a few seconds and despite the circumstances Eddie has to admit Steve feels good in his arms.

Once he is steady Steve steps back and Eddie lets him go.

Steve moves to the van and leans up against the metal surface. Eddie walks over to join him.

"So," Steve says. "What next?"

Eddie shakes his head. "I honestly don't know. The wedding is canceled, for sure. For today at least."

"Just for today? You think she'll marry him still?"

Eddie shrugs. "I have no idea. I wouldn't but then I wouldn't have said yes in the first place."

Steve leans back, tapping his head against the van a few times before he turns back to Eddie. "You know the worst part? This was my last delivery. Now, I have to deal with this stupid cake. Three tiers of lemon and raspberry." He laughs. "Do you think a homeless shelter will take a wedding cake?"

Eddie grins. "I don't see why not. At least something good will come out of today."

Steve looks up towards the hall. "I feel like I should say something-- to Diana, I mean. She was always really nice to me, she deserved better than this."

"I have found that good or bad people rarely get what they deserve. You don't really owe her anything but I can't fault the impulse." Turning towards the hall, Eddie gestures for Steve to follow him. "Just-- just don't apologize for him? Okay?"

Steve walks in silence for a few steps before he coughs roughly. His voice is thick and choked and he coughs again. "I, uh, I stopped apologizing for him a long time ago. His faults are his own. I just wish I didn't get dragged into it."

Eddie laughs. "I know that song."

"Yeah," Steve asks.

Eddie nods. They are at the door and he pulls it open for the other man, gesturing him in with a bow.

Steve stops in the doorway as Eddie stands up again. He is framed by the light inside and the scent of hothouse roses comes drifting out into the open air. Eddie can picture him suddenly in that moment standing at a balcony limned by moonlight.

"Hey Sunshine," Eddie says softly. "Buy me a drink and we can trade stories?"

Steve smiles. "Yeah," he says, with a small laugh. "Sure, why not." He holds up his hands, still dirty and scraped from the asphalt. "Help me get cleaned up and let me say something to Diana. Then we can talk."

Eddie nods, reaches out, and places his hands gently over Steve's. "Sounds good to me."

[winniewritesstories]

thinking about....soldier boy (ben) with a doe-coded reader ⋆｡˚୨୧˚｡⋆.

౨ৎ⋆˚｡⋆ all sfw | can be read as gn!reader ⋆˚｡⋆౨ৎ

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⟡ you're a supe with the power to communicate with animals

⟡ you live in the woods near a small rural town, in the new england area. most people leave you alone - your supe powers aren't the most useful for vought. the locals think you're some kind of witch or woodland nymph and give you space, too

⟡ your little cottage is always full of animals, both domestic and wild. deer, foxes, sparrows on your lawn, cats that come and go, rescued dogs of all sizes lounging on your porch.

⟡ butcher & the boys need your help with finding the deep, hoping you can communicate with sea creatures (you've never tried before) to find him and help then track down homelander

⟡ ben is dragged along against his will, grumbling the whole drive there. when they pull up to your cottage, wisteria growing around the doorway, rose bushes with bees buzzing around, he rolls his eyes.

⟡ the front door opens, and there you stand, wearing a little blue or pink or yellow dress, a small kitten hanging out in the pocket of your apron, no shoes on

⟡ you don't ask who they are or why they're there; you just give them a beautiful big smile and greet them, half a dozen dogs following you out the house

⟡ ben has never seen anything so perfect and pure in all his life

⟡ you invite them inside, make tea and serve it with biscuits you just made. there's a robin living in your lounge and what looks like a domesticated mountain lion laying on the bottom step, eying your guests warily

⟡ you listen intently to butcher, wide eyes blinking earnestly, lips slightly parted, and ben just watches you the entire time, taking you in...

⟡ your cheeks, freckled from spending so much time in the sun; the way animals of all shapes and sizes flock to you for safety and comfort; how you're always padding around your home or garden or nearby forest barefoot, curling your toes into the grass. the way you tend your garden, picking flowers to weave into your hair, greeting the bumble bees, making polite conversation with passing crows. the soft tunes you hum or whistle, or the way you sing softly to yourself and your animals as you go about your day

⟡ ben is a goner. practically drooling at how pretty and soft and innocent you are.

⟡ he's obsessed with you after that first meeting, basically following you around like another dog. if you weren't so gentle and affectionate with everyone and everything, you might find it creepy or unnerving or irritating

⟡ but you don't mind him at all, finding his company nice and his attentiveness endearing (he's not the first wild animal you've tamed, after all)

⟡ he basically never uses your name, resorting to any one of a hundred nicknames - princess, dolly, fawn, sweet girl, kitten, pretty girl, my love, little dove

⟡ as you get more comfortable with each other, he'd lay his head in your lap by the fire or under the warm afternoon sun, and you'd scratch his head, playing gently with his hair

⟡ the first time he hears you giggle he actually melts, his heart thawing at the sound, wishing he could bottle it and replay it forever and ever.

⟡ when it gets cold and you wrap yourself in a soft sweater which is too big for you, sleeves covering your hands and he wants to wrap you up and whisk you somewhere warm (although he secretly loves the cold now, getting to hold you close - 'here, dolly, i'll warm you up', he says, pulling you back to sit in his lap, big, strong arms wrapped around you)

⟡ you don't get angry or upset often, but when you do ben thinks it's the most adorable thing ever, the way you huff and pout and stomp around lightly, whining at ben 'don't be mean' and he melts and kisses your nose and says 'i'm sorry, princess', because he can't be teasing or angry with you when you look so sweet

⟡ he finds himself talking to the animals the way he'd seen you do, even if he couldn't understand them. one morning he's sat on the porch, watching you pick vegetables, and he starts talking to the dogs by his feet about the weather and wonders if he's finally cracked

⟡ he basically becomes another feral dog that you tame and becomes an added guard dog to your already large pack. growls at people in the street if they bump your shoulder, stares down frenchie and butcher when they visit, and if he had a tail it'd definitely wag every time he looked at you

⟡ learns how to make tea just the way you like it

⟡ loves, loves, loves to make you blush, watch you get shy and flustered over the silliest little things. drives him mad the way you bite your lip, looking down at your feet or fiddling with your hands, cheeks flushed pink

⟡ never considered himself an animal guy before, but now he befriends all kinds of creatures, thinks twice about buying leather or wool, and even brings home a stray cat he found in a dumpster once

⟡ your favourite love language is physical touch, and you absolutely adore showering ben with affection; butterfly kisses, nose kisses, pressing your forehead against his. sometimes you'll be lay under a willow tree or in bed, and you get all smiley and giggly and plant kisses all over ben's face, shoulders, chest, anywhere you can reach. as you sit back, face flush, hair tousled, slightly breathless with a giddy smile, ben's heart twists almost painfully in his chest, realising how much he loves you and how much that scares him

⟡ he secretly loves the fact he can be gentle and laid back with you, dare i say soft. after a lifetime of fighting, he likes to unwind with you and your animals, and you make him feel much more human. you don't want to use or abuse him, don't need him to be soldier boy, or a hero, don't need him to be anything other than just ben

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notes -

thank you for reading!! first little h/c set like this, please let me know if you like it!! ᡣ𐭩

[not proofread]

[cheriladycl01]

Come train with me - Sebastian Vettel x DaneOlympicAthletics! Reader

Plot: Sebastian Vettel asks to train with his Olympian Girlfriend for one day to see the difference in Formula One training and decathlon training.

"Okay, so what do you do when I normally am on a race weekend. I want to do your training with you!" he smiles looking at you.

"Are you sure it's pretty intense!" you say, knowing that your routine could end up being a whole day thing.

"Leibling! You forget that I'm an athlete myself!" he says, pulling you into a kiss before ripping the covers off the pair of you and getting up.

"Okay, get your running gear on baby" you smile before entering the bathroom and washing your face with some water. You change into shorts and a sports bra and ended tying your hair up in a low ponytail.

"I'm ready!" he smiles zipping up his long-sleeved running shirt. You walk him down to the kitchen and pour two glasses of orange juice for the pair of you.

"Drink up" you smile and he does, pretty much taking the small glass in one long gulp whereas you slowly take it down.

"Okay, we're going out on a run 5k, and do 5 100m sprints at each 1000 bench mark!" you say as you lead out the back of your home to the woodland trail you used for running.

"That doesn't sound too hard!" he smiles, pulling you in for a kiss before you dart off starting the first 100 meter sprint. He does struggled to keep up with you during the sprint to the point you had to jog on the spot to wait for him after the check point.

He wasn't out of breath when he got to you, and both continued on with the run.

"Okay, finished that awful run, what next?" he asks.

"Go to the home gym, do some squats and lift some weights before showering and time for some breakfast!" you smile and you both walk down the trail and into the back door. Your dog, Polly comes running up to the both of you and jumps into his dad's arms.

You cheekily snap a picture of them before you make your way over to the gym.

You hop in the home gym bathroom to wash while Seb goes upstairs into the ensuite.

Once you've finished you go to the kitchen, pulling out the porridge your nutritionist and private chef made for you along with the pre-cut fruits to add to it.

You hand Sebastian the other portion which he thanks you for, he mixes his fruit into the porridge whereas you leave yours alone on the side.

"Now where do you go?" he asks.

"Well, I go to the training centre. I have two separate days when doing a decathlon and I try to train for the event I'd being doing on that day! So, we just did the 5k with the sprints in it for the 100m sprint I'd complete first. Now we'd be training for discus throw, then pole vault which we both know I'm terrible at, then we'd break and have lunch. Then my fav which is Javelin throw before rounding of with the 400m which again we class a this mornings run!" you explain the daily plan for day 1.

"Oh! That sounds good to me!" he says and you both pack up a lunch to take with you before leaving for the car.

He drives both of you to the training center. It was very large holding an athletics field in the back that had the perfect running track with a centre piece where you could do long jump, or throw javelin spears. And then inside there was things for high jump and pole vaulting.

You spend the afternoon there, taking a break halfway through for lunch where you introduced Seb to anyone he hadn't actually met yet.

"Thank you for bringing me back home!" you'd smiled at him happy to be back in the homeland.

Denmark, specifically Copenhagen always had a special place in your heart, but you'd moved to Germany with Seb after 8 months of dating.

So when he said that you guy's should get a home in Denmark it was all too perfect that you parents were attempting to downsize your childhood family home. You brought it from your parents and made some renovations a few years back but predominately were in Germany.

However, now that you were back for the summer break, on a little holiday you felt almost refreshed.

"Any-time, this is your home!" he smiles softly picking at his lunch trying so of the chicken.

"Mmmmm that's not true, my home is where-ever you are Skat!" you smile at him, pulling him in for a kiss which he kindly returns.

"I really really love you Y/N!" he says looking in your eyes holding that contact.

"Yeah? Well... I love you too" you smile, placing a kiss on his lips your fingers running through his hair.

"I know you do" he smiles.

You guys end up getting back on with the exercises and by the end he's lying on the mat needing a five minute breather.

"Come on old man, I know you've got more stamina than that!" you tease looking at his as he looks up at you.

"I think we've got to call it a day, home time?" he asks and you shake your head before nodding!

You end up driving you both home, him using the excuse that his legs were on fire after the amount of squats you'd made him do. Which you didn't mind, your husband had a fantastic array of vehicles. They ranged from a Porsche, to a Ferrari, to a Aston Martin his latest to the collection and you always loved driving his flash cars around.

You crank up the radio signing along to the radio while Seb leans his head against the window with his eyes shut lightly humming to the music.

This right here was the life you'd always dreamt off.

y/user

Liked by sebastianvettel

y/user: Showing my husband how an Olympic Athlete trains everyday. p.s he struggled :)

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sebastianvettel: I didn’t struggle! You liar! <3

6hours ago

Your Instagram Story:

another day, another run

Taglist:

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[rottencherrypie]

R-18+; Beneath the Stars (Aragorn x Reader)

Summary - A woman draped in cloth cut from the night sky, an awestruck ranger admiring from afar, and a bet between elven royals—what could go wrong?

Warnings - Smut, language, afab!reader, fem!reader, mention of alcohol (poorly written), poorly written dancing (I do not know how to dance), woodland elves getting crunk (they know how to party), heavily implied marriage (Aragorn and Reader), heavily implied wife!Reader, heavily implied husband!Aragorn, simp!Aragorn (man loves his betrothed), mention of bets (Legolas and Arwen), nonsexual tension (Legolas and Arwen—they just want to win the bet), heavy dom/sub undertones and dynamic, sub!Aragorn, dom!Reader, heavily alluded worshipping kink (Aragorn is just a simp), unprotected sex, mention of a womb (reader), mention of female genitalia (reader), mention of male genitalia (Aragorn), handjob (Aragorn receiving), lowkey humiliation kink (Aragorn having), degradation (Aragorn receiving), poor attempt at dirty talk, name calling (Aragorn is called a dumb whore), reader is called mistress and goddess, slight mean reader (but in a hot way), hair pulling (Aragorn receiving), semi-public sex, creampie, and maybe more (I might have missed a few things).

Pronouns & POV - She/Her, third-person (starts more Aragorn leaning)

Pairings - Aragorn x Reader (romantic), implied Reader x Arwen (friendly). Arwen x Legolas (friendly rivalry)

Word Count - 6,100+ (I do not know how we got here, but we did)

A/N - Another one from the suggestion box! "This takes place in Northern Mirkwood, where Legolas is from. Maybe Aragorn and Reader are there for some sort of formal event? Reader stuns Aragorn in an Elvish dress and she kinda takes advantage. Poor Aragorn becomes a mess! Arwen and Legolas have made a secret bet on how fast it’ll take for Aragorn and Reader to sneak away. Reader is wearing a pretty dark blue Elvish dress with long sleeves and some kind of pretty silver embroidery." — @tsum00 (I hope I tagged the right person, please correct me if I am wrong!) This may have gone a bit off from the suggestion, so I do apologize for that! I hope you enjoy regardless, thank you so much for your suggestion and your kind words! I really enjoyed writing this and ended up with more plot written than I expected, so I do apologize for that! I made the feast, the feast of starlight as that was the only one I could remember at the moment. I kept the reader as vague as possible but included the dress, the only defining features are plump lips. I got way too into writing this while simultaneously having writer's block...it was an experience but an enjoyable one. Smut below the cut!

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Mereth Nuin Giliath, otherwise known as the Feast of Starlight in the common tongue. A celebratory feast held in admiration for the various lights that shone within the darkened sky alongside the vast moon that loomed over them.

The exact origins of the feast were unknown to those outside of the woodland halls, and the king of Gondor was no exception to said fact. However, it mattered not to the recently crowned king why he was there to celebrate such matters; he was merely joyous to be invited to such festivities—vastly aware of the secrecy of the northern elves.

A gentle breeze drifted throughout the woodland halls as the celebrations echoed within, carrying the strumming of harps and the chatter of elves as it floated through the chilled air. The soft glow of candlelight illuminated the dancing figures on the busied floor, painting the walls with tall, darkened reflections of their graceful movements as they basked within the energy of the natural light from above.

The various figures swayed upon the dance floor, yet the grace within their movements began to gnaw away with each sip of rouge liquid that stained the various elven lips. A similar hue dripped onto the old, wooden floor beneath them, quenching the dried wood with the taste of aged elven wine as their goblets flowed over while their movements became more primal.

Amongst the sea of dancing figures, there was one whom the recently crowned king's eyes could not part from—his dearly betrothed, Y/N.

To say the woman was a vision was an understatement to the king. The deep blue silk draped upon her heavenly figure made her appear like a goddess wrapped in the same night sky the elves danced under. The soft twinkles of the silver spool sewn into the gown shimmered with each sway of her hips amidst the mixed lights.

As the elves continued to rejoice beneath the light of the stars, the new king could not help but envision how he might later rejoice beneath the light of her. The moisture within his mouth began to overflow at the thought as he shifted upon the heels of his feet, the old wooden floor creaking beneath the moving weight as his mind continued to wander—picturing the heavenly flesh hidden beneath the smoothness of silk.

"Your mind wanders." A familiar voice broke through the static of the king's trance, reminding the man of the familiar elven prince who stood to the right of him. "Have you heard a single word I had spoken?" The prince questioned, a thick brow quirked upwards as the man nervously raised the goblet of rouge liquid to meet his thin lips.

"I, erm..." Any hint of excuse died within Aragorn's throat as the blood within his cheeks burnt hot, his eyes betraying him as they continuously darted back to the packed floor—watching as the beautiful temptress swayed amongst the sea of elves. "I had not." He uttered, a soft admission as he attempted to revert his eyes towards the prince beside him, yet he struggled to pull his gaze away from the temptation upon the dance floor.

Lost in a trance, like a sailor lulled to the depths of the sea by a siren, his gaze followed each hypnotic sway of the woman's hips. The deep blue fabric swished side to side with each motion, the silver embellishments twinkling within the pale moonlight, pulling him deeper into the trance of arousal.

"Why stand and watch when you could be beside her?" The elven prince questioned, once again pulling the man back from the depths of his desires. "No one would fault you if you were to slip away for a moment." Legolas continued, his tone sounding more like a tempting song. Though Aragorn could not see it, he could hear how Legolas' smirk dripped upon each word he uttered.

"Legolas," Another familiar voice spoke from beside Aragorn, one full of softness and femininity—yet the slightest twinge of irritation weighed heavy upon the elf's name. "Aragorn is in no need of your council." She continued, the soft swish of her wine tapped against her glass, her hand clenching around the stem as her gaze fixated upon her fellow elven royal—sapphire eyes narrowing in displeasure as the prince's ocean ones twinkled with mischief.

"Perhaps I shall accompany my betrothed." The words that left Aragorn's lips were in a dream-like trance, light and airy—full of desire and satisfaction as he continued to admire his beloved.

The sound of his betrothed's laughter floated alongside the strumming of harps in the air, fluttering into the man's ears, filling his chest with a glow of warmth and a yearning for her tender caress. There was not a single flaw within the woman upon the dance floor, none that the recently crowned king could find—and if any dared to utter otherwise, he would ensure they would be unable to utter another word ever again.

The thought alone was enough to cause the man's grasp to tighten around his goblet, clenching around the cold metal within his calloused palm as the muscles within his jaw began to tense at the nonsensical fantasy his mind had composed.

As his mind continued to string along peculiar fantasies, the woman spun around. The corners of her plump lips quirked into a playful smile as the weight of her head tilted back in laughter, the hue of her hair cascading down her scalp like a waterfall beneath the pale moonlight as she continued to rejoice in the festivities. That was all it took; the sight of his beloved so wild and free was all it took to break his resolve.

"Pardon me." Aragorn uttered, his words barely catching within the sensitive ears of his royal elven companions as his feet guided him onto the dance floor. Discarding the goblet of rouge liquid upon the way, wishing to have his hands free for what was to come.

As the head of auburn hair disappeared amongst the sea of elven heads, an amused snicker slipped out of the elven prince's thin lips.

"It appears you will have to make good on your bet, my lady," Legolas began, his voice laced with smugness as he brought his goblet to his lips, allowing the pool of rouge liquid to enter them. "I shall be expecting the wine by the next full moon." He continued, earning a scoff from the elven lady's plump lips.

"You merely led him to her," Arwen rebutted, a slender hand waving slightly to dismiss the notion Legolas had proposed. "I have faith that I shall be the victor of this bet. Aragorn is no animal."

The statement, ever innocent and determined, caused a sea of laughter to bubble up from Legolas's throat—nearly causing the typically stoic prince to choke upon his wine. "We shall see." He spoke once his throat cleared of laughter, yet the smug grin remained carved upon his thin lips.

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The auburn-haired man continued to push through the sea of elves, uttering soft apologies when he accidentally bumped into one through the cramped path, yet he couldn't stop. He cared little about the path or those in his way; all he cared about was you.

The pale moonlight shone down upon you, bathing you in the silvery hue of its aura as you continued to sway on the floor—appearing like a goddess amidst a sea of faithful servants despite being a mortal amongst near immortals.

The thump of the ranger's booted feet against the wooden floor echoed throughout the air as he approached, garnering your attention as you ended yet another twirl. The deep blue gown fanned out as your motions halted, much attention falling onto your hips and waist as it momentarily tightened around them before returning to its loosened state.

"Y/N," Aragorn breathed as he stood before you, the leather of the tips of his boot touching against the smoothness of your dancing shoe—desperately attempting to be as close to you as possible. "you look lovely." His voice was no louder than a whisper, as the heat of his words gently caressed the flesh of your neck as he leaned closer to you. "Utterly lovely." He repeated the word like a prayer, desperate for his goddess to hear it.

The smile upon your lips curved differently, one of mischief and delight, and the gaze your gemstone-colored eyes held began to narrow. "Oh?" The word left your lips in a breath, watching as the once ranger eagerly bobbed his head to answer you—like the good boy he was. "And tell me, just how lovely do I look?" You teased, eager to hear him sing praises of your beauty as he squirmed with desire under your stern gaze.

"You look like a goddess sent from the heavens," Aragorn breathed dreamily. The heat of his body radiated off of him as he leaned closer to you, desperate to be within your presence, yet knowing better than to touch without permission. "one who I yearn to worship." The heat of his whisper grazed against the sensitive flesh of your neck, his lips hovering a mere breath away from your delicate flesh as his gaze rose to meet yours.

"Is that so?" You questioned, the smug grin never leaving your lips as you gazed down upon the ranger—his knees bent slightly, subconsciously preparing to kneel before you and abide by your beck and call. "And is that how you properly ask to worship me? Is it?" As the taunting question left your lips, the ranger's icy eyes slowly widened in realization. You wanted him to beg among the sensitive ears of elves.

"I..." The moisture dried from the man's mouth, words catching within the back of his throat as his head rose from your neck. "You wish for me to beg?" He whispered, his eyes anxiously darting throughout the room as a heat began to spread throughout the center of his chest. Though the warmth had started as one of unease, it began to settle into a burn of arousal.

"I do not see why not." The floor creaked slightly beneath you as you inched closer to Aragorn, the tips of your shoes pressing into the tips of his boots, forcing them to squish into the flesh of his toes. "But, the others—" "Oh, now the presence of others troubles you, my dear?" You taunted, the heat of your breath grazing against the flesh of his pricked chin, furthering the heat of arousal that spread throughout him.

"You appeared to have no issue ravishing me with your eyes moments ago." You continued, inching closer to the man before you, the softness of your flesh pressing into the hardness of his—causing the hardness within his trousers to grow further. "Well, I, erm..." Aragorn trailed off, unable to find a viable excuse that would explain both how he stared at you and how hardened his cock had become whilst doing so.

"Tell me, pet," The words escaped your lips in a purred tone, as the smoothness of your hand gently encased the side of his face, the roughness of his beard grazing against your palm as he leaned into your touch. "what were you envisioning as you stared at my hips? Hm?" Your thumb grazed against his bottom lip, stained lightly by the rogue hue of the liquid he had so easily downed prior whilst gazing upon you.

"You using me for your pleasure, mistress." Aragorn admitted sheepishly. The heat beneath his cheeks was now a roaring wildfire as the tingling of embarrassment rushed throughout his veins, allowing the flow of blood to fixate on its trail down to his cock.

"Is that so?" You cooed as the smoothness of your thumb continued to caress the smoothness of his stained lower lip. His head bobbed eagerly in agreement, the harshness of his bearded cheek rubbed against your palm as his icy eyes bore up at you large and sparkling with a lustful desire to please you. "Yes, mistress." He breathed, his eyes never leaving yours as he sank his cheek deeper into your touch.

"Such a good toy." The softness of your palm dropped from his face, earning a displeased whimper from the ranger's lips as you inched away—his body seeking yours out as he leaned forward slightly, desperate to be in the warmth of your aura. "Mistress, please." He whined, his desperation to please you overflowing, washing away all his previous worries of the woodland elves hearing him pleading to please you.

Despite how he pleaded, you continued to inch away from him, earning yet another whine to slip through his wine-stained lips. The sight of your heavenly figure backing away from him was near torture as if the gods were ripping away the angel sent to save him from damnation—or rather, bring him closer to it.

Before another sound of displeasure—or another pathetic beg—could escape the king's lips, you curved a finger in his direction, signaling for him to follow, which he did eagerly.

His steps held a bounce as he rushed after you like a stray dog being brought home during a storm. Though the thumping within his chest was rapid, all blood flow fixated on the cause of the growing tent pitching within the front of his trousers as you led the king of Gondor away from the festivities.

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It was a bit of a blur how the ranger ended up in this manner: back pressed firmly against the twisted woodland halls, the old wood digging into the exposed flesh of his rear as his trousers laid upon the ground. The bitter night's air nipped at his exposed flesh, yet his cock was warmed beneath the smoothness of your touch.

His breath hitched within his throat as your delicate hand continued to glide upon his throbbing member, dampened with the saliva you had spat upon it the moment his trousers fell upon the floor.

"What if we are caught?" He whispered, his voice quivering in pleasure as the tip of your thumb grazed over the throbbing head of his cock, smearing the off-white liquid of his pre-release. An amused scoff fell from your lips as you continued to stroke his throbbing length, feeling pulsations of his racing heart within his cock.

"Then they would see what a good whore you are for your mistress." Your cooed words caused his cock to twitch within your touch, the lids of his eyes dropping slightly as the pleasure of praise sunk within his veins. "Though I doubt they would see much, my damn sleeve blocks even my view." You grumbled beneath your breath, your free hand hoisting up your long sleeve yet again as your preoccupied hand continued to twist upon the leaking length, the sleeve soon drooping down—sheathing the king's cock from the night's air and the heat of your gaze.

An annoyed tsk fell from your lips as you attempted to fix your sleeve again, yet to no avail. The smooth silk continued to sway around Aragorn's throbbing cock, occasionally gliding against it as your hand sunk to his base, making a shiver roam down his spine at the pleasurable sensation.

"Mistress, please." He whined, the weight of his head falling back, tilting against the harsh wooden wall behind him as his cock continued to pulsate in your hand. The creamy liquid coated his length entirely, making the motions of your hand even smoother upon his hardness.

"Please what?" You purred as you leaned closer to him, the floor creaking under the shifting of weight as your hand continued to circle his throbbing member. "Use your words like a good whore. Tell me what you want, pet." The heat of your breath grazed the shell of his ear, causing more droplets of his pre-pleasure to leak from the slit of his reddened head.

"Please fuck me." He groaned in pleasure, his eyes looping towards the back of his skull as he felt your hand tighten around his throbbing cock; you could feel each beat of his heart within your palm. "I cannot take it any longer. Please, mistress." His pitiful whines only furthered the grin upon your lips; the mighty King Elessar here, in such a compromising position, begging for your cunt like a pathetic little whore.

"Aw, you want my pussy around your cock? Squeezing all around it while I use it for my pleasure, hm?" The words left your mouth in a teasing purr, yet the king did not deny it. A blur of auburn locks rapidly bobbing filled your view before he weakly leaned back against the wooden wall, his chest rising and falling at an uneven speed as he tried to resist painting your hand white with his seed from your words alone.

"Gods..." He whimpered out, his body quivering in pleasure at the thought of your wet walls wrapped around his thickened cock; gliding up and down it, making it glisten under the moonlight as your warmth enveloped him. "The gods aren't here right now, pet." You hummed, leaning even closer to him as your grip tightened around his sensitive member, causing him to hiss in a mixture of pain and pleasure at the sharp tightness.

"Tell me you want it." You breathed into him, lips grazing against the sensitive shell of his ear before they enveloped the lobe for a moment, surrounding his flesh for a split second before your teeth encased them, tugging the flesh downwards, causing the king to groan in pleasure.

"I want it—fuck!" The hand that fiddled with the smooth sleeve of your gown dipped downwards, finding its way where the full sack of his seed rested to which it cupped in a firm grasp. "Shit—I need it, mistress. I need you." He whined in pleasure as your hands continued to stimulate him. One toying with the length of his aching cock as the other massaged his sack, toying with the balls as you rubbed them within your smooth palm.

"That's what I thought." You hummed, your grasp tightening around both manhood and sack for a moment—earning a hiss of pleasure from the king—before you released both. The chill of the night air nipped against Aragorn's sensitive flesh, his cock twitching slightly at the lack of warmth as it drooped ever so slightly without the support of your palm.

The soft swish of fabric hoisted up caught Aragorn's attention, his glazed-over icy eyes slowly fluttering back open to a glorious sight before him: you lifting the skirt of your gown and positioning yourself before him. You reached forward, the warmth of your hand once again encasing the ranger's throbbing cock as you brought the oozing tip to your dampened entrance.

But, instead of sliding the aching tip into the warmth of your cunt, you decided to tease him. Slowly rubbing the angry head against your dripping hole, tapping it against where it so desperately desired to sink into as you looked back at your beloved; his face twisted with a mixture of lust and annoyance.

"Mistress." He whined, it was a pathetic sound you loved to hear him make. It was almost amusing to you how easily you could turn such an admired king into a whining little bitch from the promise of your cunt.

"Patience, my love." You continued to rub the head of his cock against your open entrance, earning an annoyed groan from your desperate pet. Normally, Aragorn would relish in your teasing, the anticipation of sinking into your cunt, yet the influence of the wine had made him very impatient. He needed you now.

The floor creaked under the shifting of his weight as he attempted to slide into you, thrusting into the palm of your head and nearly piercing your entrance with the oozing head of his cock—yet it did not enter.

"Ah, ah, ah." You tsked as you inched back slightly; the grasp you held upon his cock tightened in a warning hold, causing the man to groan in further desperation. Before Aragorn could utter a single complaint, your free hand darted up to his hair, tangling within his auburn locks. "Did I give you permission to do that?" "N-No..." The word quivered upon Aragorn's lips as what he had done slowly sunk in.

"No, what?" You questioned, your tone dripping with assertion as your grasp upon his hair tightened. The soft sting of your nails digging into his scalp caused his cock to twitch within your palm. "N-No, mistress. I am so sorry, mistress." The words left his lips in a nervous, humiliated quiver as his pupils dilated in a mixture of anxiety and arousal. A pathetic little whore, that's what he was. Your pathetic whore.

A mocking laugh rumbled within your chest as you snagged at the auburn strands, forcing his head to the side and exposing the clean flesh of his neck. No longer did it bare the marks of your teeth, the wordless brand that he was yours and yours alone, but now it stood as plain flesh. "You want to fuck your mistress, do you, whore?" A question wordlessly answered with an attempt to nod, his smooth locks rubbing into your palm as he stared at you like a hungered man placed before a feast.

"You are lucky I am feeling generous tonight." The warmth of your palm departed from his cock, yet again, yet your other remained tangled within his auburn locks. The front of your gown had managed to stay hoisted up despite your actions, leaving the ranger whimpering in desire at the sight of your exposed cunt. "You better make this worth my while."

Within a moment of the warning words leaving your lips, you were soon pressed against the wooden wall—backed into the corner as the ranger hoisted one of your legs around his waist, ensuring it circled him firmly as he aligned the tip of his cock with your center. His movements stalled for a moment, his icy eyes locking onto yours, searching for your approval, and with a simple nod of your head, he allowed his thickness to sink into your welcoming walls.

Though you had felt this stretch countless times before, it was as pleasant as the first time. Aragorn's cock slowly sunk into the wetness of your cunt, pushing in inch by inch until the bones of his hips pressed into yours: tearing through your inner walls, stretching them to a satisfying fullness, as the sturdiness of his arms encased you.

His hips remained stagnant for a few moments as he savored the sensation of your cunt gripping him. It was wet, warm, and welcoming—clinging all around him as the weight of his body leaned into you, seeking to be even deeper in the warmth of your grasp.

"Fuck..." He breathed, the heat of his breath grazing against the nape of your neck as he continued to press into you. The harsh prickle of his beard tickled the crook of your neck as he buried his face within it.

Though you loved to see the king in such a vulnerable state, relishing in the heaven that was your cunt, your patience was waning. With a huff of your plump lips, you slowly rolled your hips—forcing an even deeper stretch, one that made the ranger whimper against your neck.

"I said fuck me, not stand there like an idiot." You huffed as your hips rose and fell against his, gliding upon his cock as if it was nothing but another toy for your pleasure within your collection—after all, that's what he was. Your pleasure toy first, husband second. "Or are you too stupid to fuck me properly?" The ranger's cock twitched against your inner walls as you mocked him, feeling every ounce of his cock throbbing within you. The large vein that curved upon it throbbed in pleasure as you berated him, as another pathetic whimper vibrated against the crook of your neck.

"I can't help it." He whined, no longer sounding like the regal king he was at the beginning of the night—turned into a pathetic little fuck toy for the woman who slid upon his cock. "You feel so good, mistress." He continued to babble excuses against your neck, his calloused hands grasping at your arms, clinging onto you like a sailor to a piece of plywood stranded at sea.

The sudden sting of your hand snatching his hair, nails pricking against his scalp, as you tugged his head to the side caused his cock to stir inside of you again. The vein upon the middle throbbing in excitement, droplets of his nearing release oozing out, staining your inner walls.

"I said: fuck me. Not babble like an idiot." You hissed, the grasp held upon his auburn locks tightening—earning a hiss of pleasure from the ranger as his hips finally began to rock into yours. "That's a good boy." You purred, the grasp upon his hair remaining firm as his hips bucked into yours.

Each thrust was slow and deep, allowing you to feel every ridge and vein upon his throbbing, thick cock as he slowly split your inner walls open. A faint sheen of sweat began to form upon your forehead as the ranger continued his thrusts, making your skin glisten under the faint glow of candlelight; making you appear more heavenly than before.

"There we go, just like that." Your hums of pleasure further encouraged the motions the ranger held within his hips; a slight burn began to spread throughout his lower abdomen as his balls tightened slightly—threatening to spill his heavily stowed seed into your willing womb, yet he attempted to resist the lull of release. The squelching sound of your pleasure bounced throughout the woodland halls, likely falling within the ears of every elf in the presence of the celebrations—yet you worried not of it, simply sinking into the deep stretch of the ranger's cock pounding inside of your core.

The swollen, leaking tip of his cock continued to pound away inside of you—grazing against your most sensitive spot. In response to the grazing, your inner walls tightened their moist grasp around his throbbing member as a moan fell from your lips, a sound that nearly pushed the ranger over the edge.

"Aw, are you about to cum?" You cooed, the words oozing with mock care as Aragorn's hips quivered against yours. His tightened balls were slick with the essence of your pleasure as they tapped against your cunt as his aching, desperate cock delved deeper within you. "Y-Yes, mistress." The words left his lips in a shaky breath, the weight of his head quivered within your smooth palm as your grasp upon it tightened further.

"Are you really that pathetic that you cannot fuck me for five minutes without bursting?" The lids of Aragorn's eyes fluttered together tightly, a desperate attempt to restrain himself from emptying his seed within your core. The muscles within his abdomen clenched tightly as he continued to carve his cock within the heavenly embrace of your dripping walls, desperate to be good, desperate to please you. "Do it." You breathed into his ear, causing all motion within his hips to stall as the lids of his eyes flew open.

The weight of his lower jaw dropped, his eyes widening as large as the full moon in the sky as he stood there—mindlessly staring at you. "I—you—what?" He breathed; the nonsensical babbling left his lips in a quiver as his mind struggled to process what you were asking of him. You wanted him to spill his seed within you?

"I said do it." The heat of your breath grazed against the shell of his ear, his hips jutting up into yours mindlessly as your leg tightened around his waist. "Cum in me like the pathetic whore you are." That was all it took for the dam of the ranger's seed to break, bursting into your cunt like an endless river as rope after rope of hot, white liquid poured stained the walls of your womb.

His body trembled within your grasp, the harshness of his nails dug into the smooth silk of your deep blue gown as he continued to splooge ropes of his hot seed deep within your core; rushing to your womb.

"Fuck..." He hissed in pleasure as the grip of your inner walls tightened around him, clenching your inner walls in tauntingly pleasurable sensation for a few moments before releasing and clenching again; allowing his seed to rush even deeper within your core. "Such a pathetic little slut." You breathed, the corners of your lips returning into a smug grin as your gaze narrowed at the man.

A mixture of lust and false annoyance flashed within your eyes, yet you could not deny how pleasurable the warmth of his seed felt within your womb.

"So fucking pathetic, can't fuck me for five seconds without cumming like a little bitch in heat." You continued, making him whine in pleasure, his cock twitching within your core at the degrading. "I am sorry, mistress." He mewled pathetically as his face burnt with embarrassment, his hips mindlessly jutting against yours as his slightly softened cock continued to push his seed within you.

"Show me how sorry you are." You breathed as you tugged at his auburn locks, forcing his head to arch further away from your neck—the burning snag of your grasp toying with his sensitive scalp caused his cock to reharden within you. "Make me cum, and I'll forgive you."

A renewed energy spread throughout Aragorn's body at your command, the speed at which his hips moved quickly turned rapid as his cock pounded away inside of your core earning a surprised squeak to fall from your plump lips.

His aching cock carved itself deep within your walls, the leaking head of his cock thumped against the most special spongy spots within your core in a repeated pattern as his grasp tightened around you—desperate to hold himself back from spewing his seed inside you again, and even more so desperate to give you the pleasure in the manner you had trained him to.

As he continued to pound away inside of you, one of his hands dropped from you and slipped down to the sensitive flesh of your cunt—the heat of your arousal emanated off of it, a sign that he was pleasuring you despite the little sounds of pleasure that left your lips.

You found yourself getting lost in the unintentional pattern of the ranger's hips, sinking into every thrust as the weight of your head tilted back against the wooden wall. It was easy to forget that you were in the halls of the woodland elves, only the muffled cheers of their celebration and varied footsteps that ended just short of you brought you back to the reality of how close you were to getting caught—yet that did not cease your arousal. The squelching sound of your cunt grew louder as the pattern of footsteps grew even louder as the slap of the ranger's hips meeting your own echoed throughout the halls.

"More." You breathed, your voice no louder than a whisper, but not out of fear; out of pleasure. "Give me more. Be a good little fuck toy and make me scream." A command that was promptly heard, the ranger's hand no longer hovered above your heat but now connected with it as the tips of his calloused fingers made contact with your sensitive bundle of nerves.

Your back arched at the sensation as Aragorn began to toy with your clit, applying a faint amount of pleasure to the twitching bundle of nerves as he began to massage it in a circle. The sound of your arousal grew even louder from his touch, the silence your lips held now a slew of groaned praises of pleasure as the wetness of your cunt echoed throughout the woodland halls for all to hear.

The air within the halls weighed heavy upon you as a familiar static sensation began to spread throughout your core, as your hips mindlessly rose and fell under Aragorn's touch as you used him for your nearing pleasure.

"That's it, right there." You breathed, your voice rising in pitch as the throbbing head of his cock continued to abuse your spongy spot. The tips of your toes began to curl as a familiar tingling, nearly burning sensation rose within you. The grasp you held upon the back of his head tightened further, a desperate attempt to remain upright as your pleasure neared.

With each stroke of his cock, you grew more sensitive. Each twitch and throb was a steady beat, a song that led you in the dance of pleasure as you neared the endless abyss of what was to come. You attempted to withhold for a few moments longer, wishing to hear him whimper a few more times before breaking yourself, yet with each punch of his cock into your core you grew weaker and weaker.

Within a matter of moments, you were thrown over the edge; a howl of pleasure escaping your lips as the pressure within your core bursted, coating his length and balls with the sweet nectar of your pleasure. Your body shivered in pleasure, waves of ecstasy roaming throughout your veins as your inner walls fluttered around his aching cock, pushing him over the edge yet again.

A small bump distended from your lower abdomen as the familiar, hot gush of his thick seed flooded your core yet again. Drenching the inner walls of your womb with the endless cups of cum you had forbidden him from spilling days prior.

As the static within your mind began to clear, the stars within your eyes slowly fading away, you released the grasp upon his head. Reddened marks of your nails painted his lightly tanned scalp, a marking of your pleasure that was thankfully hidden from the eyes of most—though his tousled hair was enough proof of what had transpired if one had not heard the previous moans.

"That was..." An amused laugh fell from your lips as he attempted to speak yet the pleasure left him unable, his mind still in a cum-drunken trance as his body quivered within the night's air. "Alright, lover boy, let's get cleaned up before someone walks by." You spoke as you dropped his leg from your waist. A stream of white, hot liquid flowed forth from your aching cunt as you slid his throbbing member out of you—earning a displeased whimper from the king, yet he knew better than to utter a single complaint while you were holding his cock.

──────

As the celebrations began to die down, various elves passed out upon tables and the floor, the King of Gondor and his beloved bride attempted to slip back into the festivities unrecognized.

But they had forgotten of the sharpness of elves' eyes.

"I knew it!" The golden-haired elf boasted, his arms thrust up in the air in victory nearly causing him to spill his goblet of wine upon the raven-haired princess to his right.

"You two could not wait another five minutes?" The elven princess grumbled, her sapphire eyes narrowing in displeasure as she raised her goblet to her lips. Drowning her displeasure of losing in the bitter taste of wine.

"You two knew?" Aragorn questioned, the pitch of his voice rising slightly as it slowly dawned upon him that his elven companions had heard what transpired in the hall. "Knew of it, bet on it. Potato, potato as the hobbits would say." Legolas spoke, his shoulder rising and falling in casualty as the lady of Rivendell grumbled into her wine.

"I cannot believe you allowed him to fuck you so easily! I aided you in finding a gown!" Arwen huffed, her plump lips protruding outwards in a slight pout as her narrowed gaze focused on you.

"I waited as long as I could, my lady. I grew impatient." You spoke, grabbing a goblet of wine from a nearby table as you approached the trio. A familiar heat returned to the king's face as it slowly dawned upon him that his own wife had bet upon his eagerness to bed her. "You were in on this?" His voice was no louder than a whisper, yet as squeaky as a mouse.

The blur of your head nodding caused the heat within Aragorn's cheeks to burn righter, nearly matching the shade of rouge within the elven princess' cup.

"She offered me half her winnings if I aided her." You explained casually, allowing the sweet tang of wine to trickle into your mouth as the elven prince gloated about his winnings.

The king of Gondor stood there mindlessly, his face as red as wine as one thought looped within his mind: elves and their damned betting.

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

Vil, Jack: a Strength that Shines

Ayyy, it’s the childhood friends (?) from the Shaftlands!! It feels like forever since we last got any significant interactions between Vil and Jack. Nice to see them chatting again~

bdjwvsjsGuabs THAT GROOVY THOUGH… Vil looks so judgmental and dismissive 😭 Channeling all his Mean Girl energy to diss Neige Snow White, lol

A Tale as Old as Time.

Four sides drew together to form a glittering box. A lovely maiden rested within the coffin-like casing of the photo frame. Her lips as red as blood, her hair as dark as ebony, and her skin as fair as snow.

She was circled by foliage, her sun-dappled face tilting up, disarmed by some distant call. The girl cupped her dainty hands together, housing a small baby blue bird in her palms. Kindness, goodness, grace—she exuded all of them.

Vil scoffed, tossing golden hair over his shoulder. Her smile was reminiscent of a rival celebrity, one pure as a dove's feathers.

So carefree, so cheery.

How irritating, he sighed.

"One ought to be more cautious in the woods. Who knows what dangers might lurk nearby, wishing to enact harm upon her.

"For a glamour shot though... Hmm, yes. This composition is acceptable. The sunlight is angled upon her face in a pleasing way—it casts a golden glow on her pale visage and highlights the highest points: cheeks, nose, chin, and forehead. The impression is one of total innocence.”

A soft grunt sounded from beside him.

"She's... shining," Jack commented plainly. His critique, clipped. “Didn’t you do a photo shoot like this recently? Similar place and everything.”

Vil’s beauty was momentarily marred by a grimace. “Yes, as promotional material for an upcoming film. However, the feel of it was completely different than what you see here.”

Shadows instead of sunlight. Temptation in the place of innocence.

He, poised amid the creeping branches and dark leaves, a tatter cloak clinging to his curves. A single, crimson apple in his grasp, a sultry look directed at the camera.

He tried to picture himself like the girl in the frame countless times over. Kneeling among the woodland creatures, smiling so serenely. Any pro could pull it off—he included.

But the image never turned out right in his mind.

Not the right amount of sweetness, not natural enough.

Not quite the same.

Not at all.

Blood, sweat, tears. Sacrifices made at the altar. Yet still, the world yielded nothing but broken promises and shattered dreams. The splintered parts and shambles of them, he gathered, forming his own makeshift hope and determination.

He couldn’t give in here.

Vil’s perfectly groomed brows scrunched up.

“I shall have to endeavor to work even harder. I’m not satisfied with things as they are now.”

“Heh.” Jack cocked a small, lopsided grin. “Keeping on the grind… That’s just like you. You've got this."

“Obviously. Nothing will get accomplished otherwise.” Vil’s eyes passed over to the beastmen. “Presumably, you are doing the same."

"Yeah. Haven't skipped a day of my training regimen." Jack slapped a hand on his bicep, which fit snuggly in his glittering white sleeve. "We'll take out RSA next track and field meet!"

"I'd certainly hope so. If I am to taste sweet revenge, I'd prefer it be by my own hand... but I trust you to deliver in my place. I expect good news when next we speak. Do not disappoint me."

"Yessir!" Jack's tail wagged enthusiastically. He stood alert, saluting like a loyal knight. “I'll do my best!"

“Then it looks as though we both have our long-term goals set.” The dorm leader planted his hands on his waist—slim, cinched.

"Yours is...?"

"To surpass myself." Vil jerked his chin toward the girl in the painting. "To shine so brightly that my name not only goes down in history, but overshadows that which was written before."

"That's some big dream you have." Jack shook his head. "The scale's beyond what I can imagine. But knowing how stubborn you are, Vil-senpai... You seriously won't quit until you make that dream come true."

"My, my. Stubborn, am I?" He smirked, arms crossed. "I do believe it takes one to know one.

"You stand back and watch. I'll show you just how dazzling I can be."

His eyes held a steeliness to them. It was matched only by the same in Jack’s. Two strong men and their wills, meeting on equal grounds.

Jack simply nodded—an acknowledgment, an acceptance, of his upperclassman’s confidence. Overwhelming, like a powerful wave, a strong storm, a blazing inferno. He almost felt compelled to drop to one knee, to kneel before such a presence.

Vil turned away from the painting, his arms unraveling from one another. His movements were graceful, nearly ballet-like. And his expression—

Jack caught him mid-laugh. The snooty, airy kind, half-sincere, half-sarcastic. Brows upturned, mouth twisted in a faux sympathetic smile. Flaxen waves framing his lovely features.

His lips moved.

“I’ll topple you from your throne,” Vil vowed.

It was then that Jack noticed.

Vil-senpai's shining like the fair maiden.

[luimagines]

Congrats on your 2 year anniversary! As for a request, I really liked your dragon warriors post, could you do one about dragon time? Thanks you!

YES AND YES I WILL I WILL!!!!

Masterlist

Content under the cut!

You screamed and cowered in fear as the monsters closed in on you. You had ran away form the group when they were ambushed, not wanting to be caught up on the crossfire.

You regret your decision now.

You curl up into a ball and cover your head as they approach you.

You would have thought things like this would have only been in fairytales- but you were wrong. It's not like you wanted your life to end here though. Why hadn't you gone in a different direction!?

Suddenly, a thunderous roar shakes the very branches from the trees around you- one even falls over you, blocking your view of the no doubt monstrously huge dragon that crushes the monsters underneath its feet as it lands on them. The branch blocks a lot of the view you had but it's not as if you wish to see what was about to happen.

You look away, not wanting to see the carnage the dragon decimates onto those that wanted to harm you.

It doesn't last long.

Time calls for your name, a growl on his lips as he rushes for you, tearing the tree branch off of you with a single arm.

You look up and gasp- seeing him in his half dragon form. There's monster blood on his pants and sleeves but you elect to ignore it. His eyes are sharp and his fangs are bared in a snarl.

He drops to his knees and put his hands on your shoulders. "Are you hurt?"

You shudder. His voice sounds deeper in this form. You had forgotten about that. "I'm... I'm alright... thank you."

The faint smell of pine and musk wafts up to your nose before it's tinted with a stale after scent. It's... a bit off putting. But calming. Time seems to relax a little more, his tail swinging behind him. "Good.... Good... I was worried when you screamed."

"Sorry." You reply out of habit. "I panicked."

Time helps you stand very quickly wrapping his tail around you before you could get very far. "The monsters aren't fully disposed of yet. Stay close."

And stay close you will. It's not like you're strong enough to fight against the pure muscle of his tail to begin with.

Without warning, he picks you up and hoists you onto his back, settling you between his wings before he starts flying. You flinch, holding on tightly for dear life. "Time! A little warning!!"

"Sorry, my dear." He holds you close regardless. "I didn't want to take any chances."

You make the mistake of looking down as he speaks. Not only are you higher than you would have thought- but you see a multitude of monsters swarm the very clearing that Time took off from.

You hug Time tighter and wait until he lands.

He puts you down gently and kisses your forehead. "I'll be back. Stay here, stay low, stay quiet. This'll be over soon."

He growls again, and shifts into his full form in front of you. You'll never get over just how huge he really is- not will ever imagine what it would be like to have those club-like branches sticking out of his back and tail. He looks as if he would have been a woodland creature had his scales been less akin to marble.

He is breathtaking- but terrifying to be next to.

You gulp and sink to the ground, letting the tall grass hide you from the opposing forces against your group.

There are many sounds of monstrous battle - as the boys fight in their dragon forms as well- you know that the monsters don't stand a chance against them. They scream and wail and rage on- with their respective magics ringing through the air around you.

It's thundering in your ribcage- you can't ignore the way you gasp for breath despite your lack of physical activity.

You better start believing in fairytales.

You're in one.

[bellafragolina]

I loved the last hcs you wrote about taking care of the submas after a long day at work!! 🥰

Can I request the same for Larry? the poor man desperately needs someone to spoil him after a long day 😭

the man who needs it the Most shall Receive it!!!

🍓🍓🍓

Coming home is a blur. Larry usually has his moments of disassociation, tiredness encapsulating his poor mind as it struggles to keep up with every single thing he's been assigned to do, but this is very startling in and of itself.

When did you take his coat? Where did his briefcase go? His tie? How did you get his shoes off??

Larry blinks owlishly at you, watching in muted shock as you flit back and forth, his Pokémon and yours following at your beck and call. He briefly pictures you in a flowing dress, singing to woodland creatures as you await a true love to come and find you, like in the movies Poppy enjoys.

But no, you're not awaiting anything. You smile at him, your supposed prince charming, who's too exhausted to stop you from pushing him onto the couch so you can bring him dish after dish of steaming food.

He recognizes them all as the things he usually orders from the Treasure Eatery, but none of them are from there. No, he can see the slight changes and imperfections that come from someone who is more normal in the kitchen, like you. You made all of this.

You made all of his favorite foods, just for him.

"Eat." You command, striding back towards the kitchen with his Staraptor trying to nip at the sleeves of your shirt so you'll drop some food for it to gobble up. "Before it gets cold, Larry!"

Larry turns to the food, slowly picking up a grilled rice ball, and bites into it. It tastes like the ones from the Treasure Eatery, but. . .

He looks to where you run your fingers through Staraptor's features, praising the bird for a good day's work.

It tastes better. Way better.

Hunger grips Larry like never before. He shoves what he can into his mouth, trying everything to see if your touch is truly magic like that. And it is, soothing his tongue like no other dish he's ever tried in his life.

A call of your name pulls you from your Pokémon-feeding duties. You trot back into the living room, plopping beside your overworked man, a hand easily resting on the back of his neck.

"It's good." Larry hums, sighing when you begin to gently massage away the knots he always carries.

"I'm glad." You say, truly relieved he likes your cooking. It's no Treasure Eatery, you know, but you wanted to show Larry how much you appreciated his hard work (even though you were of the mind that he shouldn't have three jobs like this). "I want to make things easier where I can."

Larry pecks a kiss to your lips. You're so stunned by the sudden affection that you don't resist him putting a rice ball to your lips.

"Life is easy with you." Larry says, simple as that. Because it is. "Eat. You need to."

You just chuckle, taking a happy bite. Hopefully he's as pleased with the massage gun you plan to reveal to him after he's showered.

🍓🍓🍓

hope you enjoy!! i love him <3

~Renee

[bwabys-scenarios]

Fixer Upper

Part 1

Perv!Kurapika x Fem!Reader

part 2

if you’d like to be ADDED to the taglist, please comment a red heart ❤️, make sure you’re able to be tagged/mentioned, and have your age in your bio(IF YOU ARE ALREADY ON THE TAGLIST, YOU DON’T NEED TO ASK TO BE ADDED AGAIN!!)

A/N: new series inspired by my perv!kurapika HC!! I’m not sure how long it will be, but I hope y’all will enjoy it!! He won’t be a huge perv at first, he still hasn’t had his sexual awakening. This series will be full of smut/spicy content, so be aware!!

Kurapika tried to catch his breathing as he hid behind a garbage can, gasping out in pain.

His current mission was a dangerous one and had nearly resulted in the loss of his arm. Right now, he held the bloody gash and gritted his teeth. Kurapika had the scarlet eyes, but his mission was far from over.

“I think he went that way!”

Kurapika his his presence and pulled his legs to his chest, making himself as small as possible to avoid detection.

They passed the alleyway by, the Kurta holding his breath until he couldn’t hear their footsteps any longer.

He let out a relieved sigh, shaking some of the blood from his hand and opening his phone. He sent Leorio a quick text saying his mission was nearly over, knowing how worried his friend had been.

Now, Kurapika only had to worry about finding somewhere to hide while he recovered.

But where?

He didn’t know anyone in this city, he’d never been here before. Except…

A memory came rushing back to his mind, the blonde frowning.

“You always have a place with me, Kurapika. Here’s my number.”

If he wasn’t holding his injured arm to try and stop the bleeding, he may have slapped a hand onto his forehead.

Yes, she lived here. He’d forgotten.

Kurapika scrolled through his contacts, clicking her name and scrolling through the limited messages the two had sent each other.

She’d given him her address if he ever wanted to stop by, saying he was welcome anytime.

He just hoped (Name) wouldn’t mind him getting blood all over her floor.

—————

Finding her house wasn’t easy.

She lived on the opposite side of town, in a secluded neighborhood framed by a small patch of woodland.

Although he was thankful it was far enough away that the people searching for him wouldn’t think to look there, he was still grumpy.

Kurapika couldn’t really help that. The more he moved the more blood he lost. When he finally stepped onto her porch, he had to lean against a wall for support.

He knocked on the door quickly, wincing at the sight of blood smearing the white surface.

“Coming!”

If Kurapika wasn’t nearly doubled over in pain and bleeding out, he may have been excited to hear her voice.

The girl opened the door shortly after.

It had been a while since he’d seen her, nearly two years. The last time was in York New, when she and the others had been there to support him as he attempted to avenge his clan.

He could still remember the feeling of her hands pushing his hair back, the sound of her concerned voice reaching his ears.

“Kurapika?”

The girl in front of him hadn’t changed much, besides having (shorter/longer) hair.

“Are you… oh god are you bleeding?”

He didn’t answer, stumbling inside and collapsing on the floor.

“Jesus Christ!”

(Name) kneeled down next to him, turning him so he was lying on his back.

Kurapika’s breath came out in rapid bursts, his eyes darting between (Name) and his arm.

“Hey, take deep breaths, it’s alright. I’m gonna get you into bed.”

She hooked her arm under his good one and pulled him to his feet. Kurapika leaned his weight against her, allowing her to lead him into a dark room.

“Okay, I’m going to set you down.”

She lied him down on the bed, not caring about the blood staining her sheets. She pushed her sleeves back and stood, moving to the other side of the bed to have access to his injured arm.

‘What… is she doing?’

(Name) pulled his sleeve back, wincing at the sight. “What happened to you, Kurapika?”

“… stabbed.”

“Well, I figured that much… I mean what situation were you in to get stabbed?”

When he didn’t answer, (Name) sighed. “Okay, we can talk about this later. Just…”

She placed her hand on his wound. “You’re going to pass out.”

That was the last thing he heard before blacking out.

———————

Kurapika woke up to the feeling of sunlight shining onto his face. His eyes blinked open slowly, his good arm reaching up to shield them.

‘Where… where am I?’

He surveyed his surroundings, using In to see if there was anyone near.

Kurapika sensed two auras besides his own, both of them familiar.

He looked down to see his tabard and undershirt had been removed, replaced by a plain white tshirt. His injured arm had been bandaged and the pain had faded.

‘(Name) must of done this…’

His hand grazed his arm, his eyes softening ever so slightly.

Kurapika stood up, wincing at the soreness in his legs. The blonde opened the door to the room he was in.

“Yeah I think- wait did that door just open?”

Kurapika stepped out of the doorway, being greeted by the smell of eggs and bacon cooking on the stove.

“Oh, you’re awake!”

(Name) waved from the kitchen, a familiar white haired boy sat at the counter on a tall stool.

Oh, right. He was at (Name)’s house.

“… good morning.”

Kurapika walked over, sitting down next to the boy. Said boy raised an eyebrow, turning to get a better look.

“Kurapika!?”

“Killua?”

The two stared at each other, Killua pointing at him. “When the hell did you get here?”

“I could ask the same of you.”

“I live here! Now answer my question!”

He lived with (Name)?

Kurapika glanced at (Name), asking for help with his eyes.

“He got here about 24 hours ago, at night.”

Kurapika blinked. He didn’t think he’d been out that long.

“Okay, okay. Why is he here though?”

(Name) shrugged. “I’m not completely sure, when he got here he was bleeding out on my doorstep.”

Killua huffed. “Oh, so he’s not here visiting.”

Kurapika rubbed his temple. Did he have to ask so many questions when Kurapika was having trouble remembering his own name?

“You haven’t talked with (Name) in what, years? And the first time you decide to show your face is because you needed something.”

“Killua!”

Killua straightened up at the sound of (Name)’s voice. “There’s no need for all that. I offered up my home to all of you if you needed it.”

She placed a plate of food in front of the young boy, walking back and grabbing one for Kurapika as well.

“Now, eat up, Kurapika. You lost a lot of blood.”

The man knew Killua was right. Kurapika had been purposefully ignoring her, for reasons even he couldn’t completely comprehend.

He decided to listen, lifting a piece of bacon to his mouth and taking a bite. After the first bite, he realized just how hungry he was.

Kurapika shoveled scrambled eggs into his mouth, not caring too much about the taste. When was the last time he’d stopped to eat a full meal? Was it 3 or 4 days ago?

“Slow down, you’re going to choke.”

While he wasn’t paying attention, (Name) had snuck closer, placing a cup of orange juice in front of him. Ironically, her words spooked him into choking, the man coughing before downing the juice in one gulp.

“You’re acting like you haven’t eaten in days.” Killua said before munching on a handful of Froot Loops.

“That’s because I haven’t. I’ve been busy.”

(Name) sat down in front of them, taking a bite of her own breakfast. “You should try to eat three square meals a day. You need fuel for your body.”

He didn’t reply, standing up and walking to the stove to get seconds.

“How long is he staying?”

Kurapika’s eyebrow twitched. Why didn’t Killua just ask him?

“Oh, I’m not sure. As long as he needs to.”

“Just until I recover.”

The two looked up at Kurapika. He sat back down, starting on his second helping. “I’ll be gone within a few days to a week at most. Sorry for the trouble.”

(Name) leaned her cheek against her hand, elbow on the table. “You’re no trouble at all, I’m happy to see you again.”

This was one of the reasons Kurapika hadn’t contacted her. He remembered why he had trouble speaking with her.

She was way too nice, and he didn’t like how it made him feel.

Soft.

“Thank you. I’ll make sure to reimburse you.”

She waved her hand dismissively. “No need. I don’t take money from friends.”

Killua sighed. “Don’t try to argue, she doesn’t listen to reason.”

(Name) scowled at him. “Rude.”

———————

Kurapika put his plate in the sink, watching the two from the corner of his eye. They were talking about something mundane, (Name) seemingly more passionate about the topic.

“Oh!”

(Name) turned away from Killua, giving Kurapika a smile. “I washed your tabard, and it’s drying right now. I did it by hand because I wasn’t sure if it was washing machine safe.”

“It is, but I appreciate your help.”

He suddenly remembered what happened right before he passed out.

“(Name)?”

“Yes?”

“What… what is your nen ability?”

She grinned. “I can heal people. Technically, I just speed up the recovery process going on in your cells, so it takes a lot of your stamina to heal. You didn’t have a lot the other night, so you passed out. It’s most likely why you slept so long.”

That made sense. (Name) had always been the soft, motherly type. Of course her power would be that of a healer. That was why his arm wasn’t hurting as much as it should.

“I see. Thank you, (Name).”

“No problem, hun.”

Oh dear, another reason he didn’t speak to her. She was quite fond of pet names, and although they didn’t make him uncomfortable per say, it did make him feel… something.

“Kurapika.”

Killua folded his arms against his chest, staring the blonde down. “What happened for you to get so injured?”

“I was stabbed-“

“I mean what situation you were in.”

Kurapika could swear he’d had this conversation before.

“I had a mission. To collect the scarlet eyes.”

“And?”

“That’s all.”

Killua groaned, (Name) pushing herself up and taking her plate to the sink. “You really should be more careful, Kurapika. You nearly gave me a heart attack when you showed up bleeding all over my porch.”

“… sorry.”

He hadn’t meant to worry her. It was one of the many reasons he worked alone, he hated making other people worry about him.

“Don’t be. I’m just glad you’re alright.”

She patted his back. “Now, why don’t you rest. You’ll need at least another day until your stamina is recovered.”

He nodded and walked back to his room, closing the door behind him.

It was never easy being with her for too long. Ever since the Hunter Exam, she’d been someone he struggled to be around for longer than necessary.

She smelled good, she was nice, and always made his head feel fuzzy.

And he hated it.

He had trouble concentrating on his mission when his thoughts kept drifting to her. How she was doing, where she was, if she was okay. It was all he could think about after leaving York New.

But now it was near impossible to ignore her. Maybe he should have taken his chances with the thugs that had been chasing him.

As he watched the ceiling fan spin above him, he told himself he needed to leave as soon as possible. For both his and (Name)’s own good.

He didn’t want to hurt her again.

——————

Kurapika awoke to a knock on his door, (Name) opening it up and walking in with her hands full.

“I brought your bag and clothes! If you write down your sizing I can go and grab you some spare outfits when I go shopping tomorrow.”

Kurapika sat up, pulling the bag into his lap. He peered inside, visibly relaxing when his eyes met those of the scarlet eyes. It was strange, you’d think he’d have felt anguish or anger at the sight of his clan’s dismembered eyes, but it felt familiar. Safe.

“I will accompany you.”

She tilted her head. “Are you sure? Didn’t you say you were stabbed in town?”

“Yes, but they have most likely left by now. They probably assumed I skipped town.”

(Name) sat on the edge of his bed, the man stiffening ever so slightly. “I see. Well, I’m glad your mission was a success. What are you planning to do next?”

He zipped up the backpack, placing it on the floor next to his bed. “I’ll find more information on either the Spiders or the scarlet eyes until I find one or the other. I’ll continue until I’m finished or dead.”

He said this so seriously, his aura determined. (Name) sighed.

“I wish you wouldn’t say things like that. You shouldn’t throw your life away.”

He scowled, his fingers brushing against the bandages on his arm.

“I wouldn’t expect you to understand. I will not stop until my clan has been avenged. I have no other purpose, that is my goal.”

It always hurt to see (Name)’s face twist into one of sadness when he stated his mission. She’d heard these words before, though more harsh the last time.

“I know, I know. Just…”

She placed a hand on his leg, squeezing lightly. “Just know that we care about you, okay? We all worry, so please, be careful.”

With that, she stood up and approached the door. “The shower is open if you need one. I just set out some towels.”

He nodded, not meeting her eye.

“Dinner is in an hour.”

She opened the door and closed it behind her.

‘I’m doing it again. I’m worrying her.’

Kurapika shook the memory of their last meeting from his head. He didn’t want to think about that right now.

He took up her offer about 15 minutes later, seeing a fluffy towel next to the shower ready for use.

There were only two sets of soap, one set being (Name)’s, and the others Killua’s.

He didn’t want to know how Killua would react if he used his, so he used (Name)’s. It was a soft, fruity scent, soothing his anxious mind as he rubbed it into his skin.

When he left the shower, he draped a towel over his shoulders, leaving his hair wet. He hadn’t dried his hair in years, never having the time.

He wish he had when (Name) came rushing over when he excited, scolding him.

“Kurapika, you’re going to get a cold. Sit!”

It was hard to argue when you’re being dragged and pushed into a sitting position.

“You have such pretty hair, you know.”

Kurapika sighed. Was his hair really that pretty now? It had been a while since he’d properly washed it. He’d take quick showers, just scrubbing it with whatever soap he could get his hands on before exciting the shower as quickly as possible.

She ran leave in conditioner through his locks, humming to herself as she combed through the knots in his hair. Her touch was gentle, much more gentle than his own.

When was the last time someone had been so close to him without trying to kill him? Even knowing (Name) wouldn’t hurt him, he still felt tense with her near. It felt unnatural, uncanny almost to have someone’s touch be so gentle and caring.

“All done. We’ll get you your own hair wash tomorrow, alright?”

He nodded in response. Kurapika just wanted her to stop touching him. He didn’t want to get used to being treated kindly. It made him soft, and that was dangerous for a man like him.

“You’ve been so quiet today. You alright?”

Kurapika jumped. He hadn’t expected her face to be so close when he turned at the sound of her voice.

“I’m… I’m just tired. Don’t worry too much.”

‘Please. It only makes it harder for me.’

He scooted away from her, turning his attention to the TV.

There was a random anime playing, Kurapika noticing Killua sat in a beanbag chair watching along and snickering.

“I’m going to work on dinner, you two be good, alright? That means you, Killua.”

She sent him a look and stood up, walking in the direction of the kitchen. Once she was out of earshot, Killua’s smile faded.

“Why did you think coming here after what you said to her is okay?”

“Excuse me?”

Killua rolled his eyes. “You know what I mean. I’m talking about the last time you two were together. It upset her a lot, you know.”

Kurapika didn’t answer. He had no excuse, not able to look Killua in the eye.

“I said what needed to be said. I stated only the truth.”

Killua scowled. “I don’t care if it was the truth. She cried for days, Kurapika. Days. She was inconsolable.”

Kurapika stiffened and bit his lip. “It’s none of your business what happens between me and her. She seems fine now.”

‘God I’m such an asshole. She cried? I made her cry?’

Killua blinked, a look of confusion on his face. “None of my business? Are you insane? You’re my friend, you’re SUPPOSED to be her friend, if it’s anyone’s business it’s mine. Is she only worth your time when you need something from her?”

Kurapika didn’t answer. Killua scoffed, standing up and walking past him.

“I don’t know what the hell you want from her, but just know…”

Killua stopped right next to him.

“She may forgive easily, but I don’t. Hurt her again, and I won’t think twice about breaking your arm.”

Kurapika watched him from the corner of his eye. “I don’t plan on staying long enough to hurt anyone.”

They stared at each other, Killua’s eyes cold, but hurt. “Don’t outstay your welcome.”

———————

Dinner was quiet, and awkward. Both Killua and Kurapika seemed irritated, (Name) struggling to make conversation before giving up.

Both were quick to go to bed after dinner. (Name) flinched at the sound of doors slamming, sighing softly.

She walked around the house, picking up little messes KIllua had made during the day.

‘Messy brat.’

She giggled to herself, placing another empty box of chocolate robots in the trash. She wondered how he was able to eat so many and stay so thin.

“(Name)?”

She jumped, quickly turning to see Kurapika standing in the doorway of his room, staring at her with his intense gray eyes.

“Oh- yes?”

He stayed silent for a moment, seemingly choosing his words carefully.

“What… time are you leaving tomorrow?”

She hummed. “I’m thinking after breakfast, so around 8 am. Is that alright with you?”

He nodded, looking away. “Yes, that… that should be fine.”

Thinking the conversation was over, she continued cleaning, humming to herself.

“(Name)?”

He was still standing there, his hand gripping the doorway hard enough to make a creaking sound.

“Yes?”

Kurapika bit his lip, his eyes on the ground.

“I…”

It was silent again, his hair falling to hide his eyes.

“Never mind. Goodnight, (Name).”

“Oh. Goodnight.”

Kurapika closed the door behind him, holding his chest.

He had told himself he’d apologize for his past actions, but he couldn’t bring himself to speak.

‘She probably hates me, but she’s kind enough to help even those that hurt her. God… I’m such a fucking idiot.’

He sunk into the floor, bringing his knees to his chest.

“My mission will always come before you. Always.”

He flinched at the memory of his words, groaning as he rubbed his temple. Kurapika knew those words were true, but he wished he hadn’t said it out loud. Just the look on her face when he spat it at her, right after she’d risked her life to help him was enough to make his chest ache.

Had he really become so cruel that he couldn’t apologize to someone so dear to him? Would he really spend the rest of his life running from his feelings? From her?

‘It’s safer that way. For both of us.’

He sighed, pulling himself up and plopping down onto his bed. It smelled nice, (Name)’s scent lingering on the comforter as he pulled it up to his chin.

Kurapika couldn’t allow himself to get too comfortable. If he did, he wasn’t the only one who’d be getting hurt.

[shirefantasies]

Hiiii hru? Can I request like the fellowship with a reader who is like a total push over? Like could be stabbed in the leg and would apologize to the attacker or like could literally be freezing but would offer their blanket so somebody who has slight chills. If you don’t want to that’s perfectly fine 😊 thank you ❤️

Yes you can! As someone who struggled with people pleasing for a long time & am still unlearning a lot, I really feel this! I didn’t go full apologizing for getting stabbed but hopefully this is a good representation of people pleasing behaviors 😅 Warnings: some blood/violence mentions, mental struggles implied

The Fellowship + People-Pleaser

Aragorn

“Why are we stopping,” you ask, “did you not say make haste?” “It cannot have escaped your notice that you were just stabbed,” Aragorn replies, gently urging you down and dabbing with stinging but necessary force around the bloody tear at your leg. His voice is hard to read- colored with wry amusement, perhaps, concern most definitely. His eyes shine at the sight of you and his gentle touch has heat rushing to your face. “Why do you think we would force you to bear a burden like this?” Struck. That is the only way you can describe the feeling, what his words do to you. You fear so greatly being a burden that the others see it as a poor reflection upon themselves. Like you think them heartless. You shake your head. “I’m sorry. I just- I didn’t want to slow us down since you said what you said. Never would I believe you capable of any great cruelty, Aragorn.” He nods. “That is not my intent.” His words are barely above a whisper now. “Now rest, please. We all could use it.”

Legolas

Shuffling behind you alerts you to another presence cutting like lightning through the spiraling clouds overtaking you. Panicking, you sniff and wipe frantically at your face with your sleeve, unglamorous as the gesture is. Straightening, you try your best to shakily apply the mask again, lips curving upward as much as you could will them. “What troubles you?” Legolas. Somehow it has, until this moment, escaped you that climbing into the trees was no promise of solitude when a woodland elf called your company temporary home. “Oh, nothing,” you say, cursing the waver of your tone, “nothing.” Brows furrowing, he stares pointedly as his dark eyes are soft and does not let his gaze leave. “Please. No burden is ever truly solitary.” Gaping, you try to come up with a rebuttal, feel too broken and melted to speak. Legolas sits at your side, leg brushing yours. “When you are ready, I will listen. There is no shame here. If you wish not to speak, I will simply stay.”

Boromir

Boromir's brows knitted at your repeated apologies. Breathy words of regret passed through your lips between waves of pain. Boromir's arms were around you, his steps shifting to guide you onto your back. Your leg was possibly broken, trampled in the last skirmish to great pain, and he had taken up the task of aiding your steps. “You did not ask for this,” his reply cut into your stream of words, “how can you apologize for actions beyond your control? You fought well, now come and rest.” “Thank you,” you manage, gritting your teeth as he lowered you onto a bedroll. “You are so like my brother sometimes,” Boromir chuckled deeply, smiling down upon your form as he unlaced your boots, “you need not prove your worth, you know. I care about you solely for what is in your heart.”

Gimli

“You can do anything! A great warrior lies within you! Every hit you take makes you stronger!” You had opened up to Gimli about the harsh words spoken to you in your past. The way you had subconsciously learned to live by them. Stay the desire to let people in lest they hurt you. It was exhausting, but you had been called a burden before and did not wish to be one again. Thus you told him to use those words again. You were used to them, after all. But all you received from the dwarf was staunch refusal. Kind words. Rousing words. “You remind me of my own kin,” he continued, “no challenge ever stops a dwarf for long. The fact that you spoke anything at all, naturally, is your first act of resistance. Thus now as you realize your own strength you can practice spitting it back in their face!” You can’t help the laugh that escapes you, but in the flash of joy something else pierces your heart. Gimli immediately took those words as hogwash. Maybe those lessons had not been lessons at all, but hits just as he said. Maybe there was something to be said for rising better from them instead of lying down.

Frodo

“Oh, don’t worry about me,” you give your characteristic response the moment the others check in on you, unwilling to become the burden they could surely see you as. Seeing as how you gave no strong opinions the others nod and continue on. Taking a deep breath, you walk on as well, at least until an arm falls gently across you in restraint. “Why do you always do that?” Frodo asks, eyes imploring. “Do what?” You reply, unsure what you have done to bother him. “Put yourself down so,” he answers, “act like your say has no value. They would stop for you, you know.” “I…I do not wish to be the reason we slow,” you stammer out, voice quieting. Frodo just shakes his head at your words, hand reaching up to grasp your shoulder reassuringly. “Do not doubt our love for you,” he tells you with a small smile, “after all, it is not a thing that is bought and sold.”

Sam

“Oh, Sam,” you hold back a sneeze, “I love them!” “Really?” He doesn’t look convinced, starting to retract the hand holding the flowers giving you the unfortunate reaction. “Of course, why would I not?” Cocking a brow, Sam shot back “Because my mother was always having a bad time with these lot and you just gave the same twinge of your nose as she did. No need to lie over it, I’d love to find you some new ones.” Your face and head fell. “Sam, I am so sorry, truly I-” “You can’t control it,” he chuckled, “besides, the apology is mine if you felt like you needed to lie. You never have to lie to me, ok? We can work it out together.” His eyes shone and all you could do was smile and nod.

Merry

"No, no, really, take it.” Insisting, you hold out your blanket in a shaky hand as you peer beseechingly into Merry’s eyes. His brows furrow faintly, but no annoyance or even confusion crosses his face, only…concern, a look as though you held out your very soul. “You really don’t need to do that, you know.” Now it is your turn for an expression fading into concern, brows knitting at more than just the chill wind whipping the trees. “Do what?” The hobbit places one hand upon his hip, the other giving an accusing little wave. “Offer up your blanket and think to leave yourself none. I thank you, but really. You have needs, too, you know.” Both his face and tone soften upon those words, punctuated with one step closer. “And they’re no less important.” No one said such things to you. Perhaps they even came with some disbelief, a grate on the way down like a wrongly swallowed pill. But the way Merry said it: it was clear to you he believed it, and that fact alone gave you pause. “O-oh. Alright. Thank you,” you replied softly. “Of course. And if you’re really so concerned,” he gave the rakish smile that always had your heart leaping, “we could always share. If you were comfortable, of course.”

Pippin

“Oh, Pippin, I’m so sorry.” “What ever for now?” No malice colors his voice, only pure amusement and its usual jolly lilt. He peers at you with brows raised and green eyes wide as you glance down. “I’ve got to reach over you really quickly here.” “That’s it?” “Well, I was getting in your way and-” “If that is getting in my way, do your worst. In fact, you don’t have to be sorry. You don’t have to be sorry for accidentally stepping in front of me, either, or not realizing you spoke at the same time as me… wait,” stopping., Pippin gapes at you, “do you think I don’t like you? I assure you, nothing could be further from the truth!” Your heart flipped. How could he even consider that you would think that? You just felt like you were in the way all the time. Apologizing was something you always had done. Just in case. “Oh, no, I just…. Well, I suppose it’s silly,” you trailed off. “Oh, no,” Pippin grabbed your faltering hand with a shake of his head and a grin on his face, “no more apologizing on my watch, alright?”

[stargirlsmooch]

stay

abby anderson x fem!reader

abby wanted what was best for lev, always. so when they come across a house, she sees her opportunity. thank god the owner is a total sweetheart. a little angsty + super fluffy! 2.9kwords.

!timeline wrong, not canon whatsoever, fluff, cuddles, a dog with a stupid name and Lev being funny and cute, a little angsty. divider by @firefly-graphics !

They had spotted the house a few days ago, perched on a little hill and surrounded by dense woodland, perfectly hidden and protected by the natural environment. Lev had wanted to run right up to the front door the second they saw it, his usual fearlessness overpowering any logical thought, reminding Abby about a time she would rather forget… involving heights and bridges.

After a few minutes of bargaining, Abby had convinced Lev that they needed to wait a few days, scope the place out and keep close by. The two set up camp just out of sight and earshot of the house, envy growing every time they peeked at the puffing chimney and the warmth lining the window panes. What Abby wouldn’t do to get inside that house.

It would’ve been a whole lot easier if it was unoccupied, if they could just waltz right in and make themselves at home, take off their boots and hang up their coats. But close observation had pummelled that dream into the ground when they spotted you, bundled up in a brown coat and wool hat, walking a German Sheppard along little desire paths that you had carved into the earth.

You would return to the house with a smile on your face and the sweet dog trailing behind you, reminding Abby of Alice and pulling at her heartstrings. I miss her so much.

The chill of November had started to settle a few nights ago, with days getting shorter and the air getting colder. Lev felt a mild kind of jealousy working its way around him at the sight of you passing in front of the windows with only a t-shirt on, whilst he wrapped himself in every layer he owned. It must be so warm in there. 

When a few suns had set and risen, Abby thought the situation had been assessed enough, thought she had gathered enough information and thought she was ready to march up to that front door and bust it open… and then kindly beg for mercy. 

If Lev wasn’t with her, she probably wouldn’t even have paid the house a second look, she would’ve walked right past and kept on her way to nowhere. But her little companion had begged, literally pulled on her jacket sleeve and dug his heels in, when he spotted the house. 

“We can just… I dunno… walk up and knock on the door.” He whispered, looking down at his fingers, already knowing the reaction he was going to get wasn’t going to be the one that he wanted. 

“You’re kidding, right?”

“She seems nice.” 

“Oh yeah, and you’ve talked to her?” Abby asked with a chuckle, placing her strong hands on her hips and turning around to look at you as you busied yourself in what appeared to be your kitchen.

Lev stayed silent, watching you too with his arms crossed over his chest in quiet defiance, “I can just tell.” 

“You can just tell… right. And what about that massive dog on the porch, huh? What about him?” 

“Hey! You’re the one who told me that dogs are nice.” His face crumpled in annoyance, brow furrowing and lip curling up in minute anger as he pointed a finger at her. He knew Abby was trying to scare him.

“No, I told you Alice was nice.” 

“Look, we overheard her calling it Taco. No dog called Taco can be that bad.” He argued, waving his arms around manically in hopes it would force his point across.

Abby’s face turned fiercely serious, “you know what a taco is, right Lev? It’s not something to joke about. It’s a strain of infected that rips the limbs off people and-”

“Shut up, I know what a taco is. I already told you I’m thirteen, not eight. And don’t you dare say it.”

“You’re the size of an eight-year-old.”

Abby ended up promising to make a move the next time you came outside, just to make it all up to Lev. She didn’t expect the next time you ventured out to be when you were chopping firewood with an axe so big it almost made you topple over. 

But she gathered her composure and climbed the hill slowly, keeping her eye on Taco who sat in his usual spot on the porch steps, panting with his pink tongue hanging out of his mouth. Abby wasn’t going to let his current adorable doe-eyed expression trick her, she knew he could turn at any moment and come bounding at her with red eyes.

Instead, his head lolled to the side at the sight of her and he trotted up to her before flopping onto his back with a cute doggy smile on his face. She bent down and gave him a gentle pat on the head, which was met with a happy whine.

“I was wondering when you were gonna come up here,” you said, turning around and greeting Abby with a pleasant smile. “You took your time. How long were you out there? A week?” 

Her mouth felt like it was wired shut, put in a near-permanent state of shock at your fearlessness (and embarrassment based on the fact that she wasn’t as sneaky as she thought she was). 

“Tell your little friend to come out too.” 

Taco yapped angrily at the loss of Abby’s hand, chasing it with his head. You propped the axe up against a block of wood and made your way towards the house, giving Lev a little wave as he made his way out from behind the treeline from where Abby had come from.

“I’m guessing you guys want showers, and beds, and food. I’ve got everything you need in here.” You smiled as Lev picked up his pace towards you, only for his hood to be grabbed by Abby as they shared some hushed words.

You didn’t need to hear the conversation to know what was being said, you knew your unusual generosity was screaming alarm bells at the pair, but the decision to welcome them into your home (even if they just wanted it for one night) was one that was made quickly and easily. 

The reason: loneliness.

Having spoken to no one but your father, who only came once a week to deliver supplies, it was no wonder you were feeling a little alone. You missed having someone to love on, someone to touch, someone to cuddle. One look at Abby and you decided that she was the only one you would give that to. 

After about thirty seconds, Lev shook Abby off and followed you, rushing up the stairs and through the door, finding you in the kitchen, at the fridge. He gawked at the stocked shelves, and you stood there giggling at him, “help yourself, hun.”

Leaving him to his own devices, you wandered into the living room to find Abby checking the locks on all your windows and pulling the curtains closed. Her powerful frame took up a good chunk of space, filling the room with a sense of security even though there was a feeling far from it painted across her face.

“Hey,” you said quietly, grabbing her attention, “you can leave if you want, or only stay for a few hours, it’s completely up to you.”

Abby couldn’t help but be taken aback by your kindness. She couldn’t remember the last time anyone other than Lev had smiled at her, and here you were opening up your home to her. But she nodded her head as you spoke, trying to show a little appreciation before she started her interrogation.

“What’s in it for you?”

Pursing your lips, you thought it over. The answer was easy enough to come up with, it had spawned in your mind the moment you even thought about the prospect of having someone, other than Taco, to talk to.

“Company?” 

“Okay… and that’s it? You don’t want anything in return?”

“I guess it depends on how long you’re planning on staying.” You answered as Abby took a seat on your battered couch, shrugging her jacket off and relishing the heated air. You followed her lead and took yours off too, laying it over the arm of the chair and sitting down next to her, slowly. “Firewood doesn’t chop itself.”

Abby laughed at that, just a quiet one under her breath that made a grin break out across your face. Maybe you were getting a little ahead of yourself, and maybe it was a little too ambitious… but you really hoped she would stay.

“So, Lev, here you go,” you said. “Here are three blankets just in case you get a little cold, and a pillow, and just letting you know that Taco might crush your feet if you don’t move them because that’s his favourite place to sleep.” 

You looked down at him sprawled out on your couch, his head now propped up on cotton and feathers, making a content sigh burst out of him, “thank you so much.”

“No problem, hun. You get some rest and I’ll make you pancakes in the mornin’, okay?”

“What are pancakes?” 

You giggled, “I guess you’ll see.”

The walk from Lev to your bedroom was short, directly down the hall and behind a chipped door. Your bed was pushed right up in the corner of the room, with a solid white comforter pulled over a soft mattress, topped with cushions and more blankets you had found.

The sounds of water hitting the floor drifted under your bathroom door, along with the steam, as you sat down and waited for Abby to finish showering. You had already laid out some clean underwear and an longsleeve men’s shirt you had found at the bottom of one of your drawers, thinking that it would suit her (and fit her) better than anything you owned.

The two of you had chatted deeply over dinner, her sharing details of the explorations with Lev, how they met, her time at WLF, her friends… more than you thought you deserved to know, but there was something about the compassion in your eyes that made Abby pour her heart out. She felt safer than she ever had when she looked at you, safe in a way no one had ever made her feel. And it was overwhelming.

She used her time in the shower to release the tension, letting the scalding water work over her tired muscles. The tears managed to keep themselves at bay as she stepped out, whimpering at the softness of your bathmat and the warmth of the towel you had left out for her. She dried off and wrapped it around herself, padding over to the door and cracking it open, seeing your face move to her as you jumped up off the corner of the bed.

“Hey…” you started, feeling Abby’s reserved nature, the one she had had when you met earlier, pop back up between you, “I have some pjs here for you… it’s just a shirt and underwear but it’s better than nothing. I can see if I can find some bottoms for you if you’d like, but I-”

“No, no. That’s more than enough, thank you.” 

You nodded, smiling so tenderly at her that she had to avert her gaze to the ground. She was terrified of crying, letting the tears fall and the strength fall with them. Too much attention spent on hiding her emotions, she didn’t notice you in front of her until your hands were on her bare shoulders.

“You’re okay now, Abby. Both of you are safe here.” You whispered, feeling her muscles bunch up underneath your fingers and her shoulders slowly start to shake with tears, “oh, honey.”

You didn’t think twice before wrapping your arms around her the best you could, squeezing her to you fiercely, trying to ground her to you. She had a few inches on you, so you cuddled her around her upper-waist, palms flat in the centre of her back. You considered pulling away when you felt no response from her, scared you had pushed it a little too far, but her own arms wound their way around your shoulders, their weight tying you to her. 

“Thank you.” 

Kissing the side of her neck, your pulled back and took her face in your hands, “it’s my pleasure, baby. And I know we agreed that you would sleep on the floor but, how do you feel about sharing with me? Yeah? I just wanna cuddle.”

Her lips were pouted adorably as she nodded at you, placing her hands on top of yours and winding your fingers together, pulling your right hand to her lips and giving your knuckles a sweet kiss.

Once she had released you, you turned towards your window, letting her get dressed in subtle privacy as you checked and double checked the lock before pulling the blind down, the only light now being your bedside lamp. You then shuffled out of your pyjama pants before laying them over the chair in the corner of the room, only turning around when you heard the quiet rustle of sheets and the familiar creek of your bedframe.

Abby took a deep breath at the sight of you, awaiting the feeling of your skin again, imagining what your thighs would feel like pressed into the back of hers as you spooned her. She pulled the duvet up to her chin, willing the cold cotton to warm up as you climbed up to your side, slinking under the blanket as to not pull any from Abby.

When you reached over her to shut off the light, you paused, staring down at her in barely-contained awe, entranced by her beauty, “you’re gonna stay, right?” 

“I’m staying. We’re staying.” She whispered finitely, watching your eyes dance across her face, drinking her in before you dropped a warm kiss on the corner of her mouth. You smiled and let the room fall into darkness.

Instead of fleeing back over to your side of the bed like Abby thought you might do, you wrapped a leg around her waist, your thigh pressing over her hips and warming her tummy. An arm wrapped around you almost naturally, pulling you closer as you laid a palm on her chest, along with your head. 

Abby fell asleep faster than she ever had.

[suneat3rr]

Marauders era characters as quotes from my real life

James: “I’m so glad that pi didnt have a horse on his life raft boat thing because pi would be like I’m so hungry and the horse would be like oh no” (my friend talking about the book Life of Pi)

Remus: “Bro my demons were hungry, get off my back“ (Me after my mom asked why the fridge was open)

Marlene: “I don’t I’m scared of penises” (my friend’s response to someone saying they want to be cis)

Barty: “Google says there are horny singles in my area but I'm the only single person here and they put that shit in plural!!!” (Just something a friend said)

Lily: “Capitalism lesbians have taken the water” (Friend’s response to ‘why are all lesbians evil’)

Evan: “thank you pornhub for helping me build a minecraft house” (Idk the context)

Regulus: “A woodland creature (me at 00:30) preparing for hibernation (sneaking into the kitchen and grabbing whatever food I’m craving)” (No explanation except that I was hungry bro)

Sirius: “I plead guilty to all charges to typing cocksucker in chat” (I don’t remember the context but I like to think I’m funny)

Peter: Heh.. fools… they don’t know I have something special up my sleeve! Activate ASTHMA!! (I love my asthmatic friend)

Pandora: “Don’t let bedbugs kiss you.” (Said by my friend when it was morning for everyone talking including him despite differing time zones)

Dorcas: “My depression is chronic but this ass is iconic” (said by my friend in an rp four years ago and I haven’t forgotten)

[dontcallpanic]

In honour of Halloween I'm going to share a kind of spooky story I literally stumbled across. (Because why not!)

This is a story of local legends, strange old folk, my unhealthy obsession with death rituals, chimneys and uhh corpses.

Okay, let me set the scene.

I have a friend who had the wonderful privilege of growing up on an old Welsh farm. It's surrounded by fields and woodland, streams and lands. It's a complete maze. Very easy to get lost. One day we're going for a walk and her elderly dad joins us (along with their three dogs!) there are also two kiddos in tow. It's an expedition. The kids know where they're going (we think) and within seconds we're deep down the cwm, winding through trees, over the same(?) river multiple times. We go up and down and around and around, there's mud, sticks, water and chaos until we duck under the massive trunk of a fallen tree and come across the ruins of an old house deep in the woods.

(not the house, this is a different ruin but it's like this but more intact)

All four walls are still standing, there's no roof but you can clearly see the windows and the wooden lintel above the door is still intact, just about, and of course, there is a massive fireplace (it is rural Wales after all).

My friends dad is a man of few words and is very softly spoken and is essentially an 80 year old hippie (affectionate). He has spoken to me once in my life and that was to tell me about his dog. So, imagine my surprise when he leans in to say:

"This is the last house in Wales where they used to take the bodies up the chimney."

This actually isn't the most surprising thing I've ever heard in my life but I'll admit it took my brain a moment to catch up. But, I've been around the old places a bit and I had to write a paper on death rituals once so as far as I'm concerned there is no better way to start a conversation. I'm metaphorically rolling up my sleeves because this is New Information and this is my jam. So I'm like

"Oh, I've not heard that one before. I know there are some Welsh houses with special doors or like trap doors in the ceiling so people can get the coffins in and out but I've never heard of them using the chimney before."

And so he manages to tell me a little bit about how the smoke was purifying and about how the house was lived in until the 1950s by a little old lady and how big the chimney is - you know, the usual small talk, until one of the kiddos tries to eat an ivy leaf and runs off which brings the conversation to an abrupt and premature end.

Fast forwarding a bit, later on I mention this story to my mum thinking she might get a kick out of it being the last house of this type in Wales or something like that. Her reaction is instead:

*shocked gasp followed by hushed whisper* "I've heard of this... I read it in a book..."

Now, my mum is weird and she doesn't elaborate, just repeats the phrase 'i read it somewhere' again and again before I change the subject. And I don't think much else about it

But when I next see her (a few days later) not only has she remembered that I mentioned this, but she has brought the book! She hands it to me at the right page and fixes me with a bit of a look and says

"it's terrible..." and walks off.

The segment she's marked begins with the title: Night of terror in... and then the exact name of the little tiny hamlet where we are currently staying.

"Okay" I think, "that's a bit weird. What are the chances."

It's not enough to give me heebies though, the book is on ghost stories local to the area so it's kind of the done thing for each little area to get a shout out. So I begin reading and honestly I'm more hoping that it'll give me some info on why they thought exiting through the chimney was a good idea and what the purpose this served.

History time: So, it turns out this is a custom local to this area. (Oh, I think, that's why I haven't heard this one before!) It's linked to the gwylnos or wake night (which I have heard of - it's essentially a vigil) and this custom of taking bodies up the chimney is called called hirwen-gwd which literally means long white bag.

At this point I begin to get the tiniest heebie because I don't like mummies and bodies wrapped up in shrouds really creeps me out.

I ignore this and bravely soldier on to find out that it seems that the soul needed help escaping the body and the house where the person passed away. It wasn't uncommon for doors and windows to be left open to help the soul escape.

And the coffin actually plays a minimal part in this ritual because apparently the body is actually taken out of the coffin, and taken up... And then back down the chimney. Which was definitely not what I was expecting.

It then mentioned that this ritual was abruptly abandoned in 1760 following "a strange and terrible happening at a gwylnos"

A slight aside, it's worth mentioning that most Welsh customs (especially the historical ones) had a reputation for getting extremely rowdy. The Welsh make excellent beer and cider and any occasion is a great excuse to well... get pissed. Yes, even funerals. (As you can imagine this was extremely Frowned Upon by the puratins).

Okay so long story short, the custom mutated over the years and so, while they were taking the body up and down the chimney, someone had to lie in the coffin to stop the devil taking over. For reasons unknown the person who had to lie in the coffin had to be the person who was the most drunk. (It's a pretty extra drinking game, I'll give them that).

So, on this night in 1760, as the others go outside to see to the hirwen-gwd, a young man lies down in the coffin and the lid is placed back on. The others see to the ritual and generally have a "jolly old time." On completion of the ritual they untie the ropes and return inside, back to the coffin only to find that the young man inside is, himself, dead.

This both horrifies and terrifies the family to the core and news spreads through the community like wildfire. (God, imagine coming back from hauling your relative up a chimney to find someone else dead in their coffin... )

The cause of death remained unknown with some people saying he had died of shock after being confronted with the devil himself. So naturally nobody wanted to risk it and the custom was abandoned literally overnight.

(view over the valley at night - the house is technically in this shot)

So, I'm reading all of this and yeah it's pretty weird, but so am I, so the thing that I find the weirdest is that in this story they mention the house where this happened by name and let me tell you, that is extremely rare. You never get anything anywhere near so specific with these stories usually.

So I do what anyone else would do and start looking at old maps of the area to see if I can find where this house was. Did it even exist? Is it still standing? Is it nearby? Wouldn't it be funny if it was that house in the woods?

Well, it took a bit but I did eventually find the house listed on a map from 1850-1890 and to my genuine surprise, it is actually, honestly the ruined house in the woods that I visited with my friend the other day.

At which point her dad's words made much more sense.

At the time I thought he meant the last example of that kind of house where they would have done that ritual... not THE LITERAL LAST HOUSE where they had to stop the ritual because someone died!!!!!

Oh, and that lady still living in the house in the middle of the woods in the 1950s... Definitely a witch!

And there you have it, that's the story of how I accidentally visited the house that ended the tradition of hauling corpses up and down the chimney.

-----------------------

If you made it this far thanks for reading! Diolch yn fawr iawn, I hope you enjoyed a tiny slice of true Welsh history and lore 🩵

Also tagging @oldefashioned and @cantchangemypast because you might enjoy this story!

[sebsxphia]

Hi Seb! Fic request anon here!!! I totally get inspiration is a fickle thing, so if this doesn’t spark inspiration or you don’t feel comfy writing it, no worries! 🥰🥰🥰

So after re-reading a bunch of your Bob fics and your daddy bobby fics, I got to wondering how daddy bobby might handle a situation where his sweetheart regresses because of trauma reasons? I kinda do the same thing and I just imagine daddy bobby would be the absolute gentlest and so good at helping his little one move from feeling very very small and scared to still feeling small but safe again 🥺

bunny. | playtime boxes.

robert ‘bob’ floyd x little!reader.

￫ description: bob can tell when his bunny isn’t feeling too good, but he’s going to make sure they feel safe and comfortable in his arms.

￫ word count: 2.7K.

￫ c/w: age regression, regressing due to trauma, mentions of trauma and fluff, fluff, fluff.

￫ a/n: i hope you enjoy this my love! <3 | woodland creatures | agere masterlist | main masterlist |

Something, or someone, had spooked you. And Bob could tell.

You were his little bunny, and right now he thought as though you appeared as a bunny who was caught in the headlights. You were quiet during the car journey back to your home, and you continued to be quiet as you shed your winter jacket and kicked off your shoes by the front door. Your eyes were wide and darting around, with your eyebrows furrowed in both confusion and a hint of fear. He was sure he didn’t even see you blink. Your bottom lip was furiously being chewed on by your teeth and you drew the sleeves of Bob’s sweatshirt over your hands, in an attempt to hide yourself as much as you could.

Bob turned around from hanging up his coat next to yours, with a look of deeply concerned love etched over his features. His eyebrows furrowed softly and he placed his steady hand on yours, which were currently wrangling themselves around each other under Bob’s sweatshirt.

He cocked his head down to you and asked softly, as if not to spook you further.

“You okay, my little bunny?”

You shook your head almost instantly. Your teeth were still chewing on your bottom lip and you were unable to look Bob in the eye.

Your eyes were still darting around.

Seeking something out.

Safety. Comfort.

Your voice broke and Bob’s heart went with it.

“No. Don’t feel good. Wan’ be small.” You weakly mumbled out between your swollen lips.

His heart didn’t break because you wanted to regress. No, it broke because something was causing you to crack and in an attempt to soften the blow, you were regressing due to trauma. Seeing your distress from your trauma caused his heart to break. It may take days or weeks for you to explain what occurred to have you feeling so spooked (he had an inkling that it was who you saw), but that didn’t matter to Bob right now.

What mattered to him was you, and your wellbeing. He wanted you to regress with safety and comfort, and he would be there with every cautious step you took until he could hear your soft little snores, as you fell asleep on his chest.

His fingers on yours let themselves wrap around your sleeves and interlink themselves, to guide you with him down the hallway in your warm home.

“Alright, my little bunny!” Bob’s tone was switched up almost instantaneously. It resembled eagerness, to show you that he was thrilled to be your caregiver and he was here to look after you now. It was a switch in tone that you took to instantly with him and you pressed your body up to his broad arm and gripped onto it. Almost as though you were shielding yourself from the cover of your caregiver. You knew that he was here to protect you and that provided you with a great sense of comfort. You could already feel an inch of your tense shoulders slip away, as that familiar, fuzzy headspace slowly clouded your senses.

“Let’s get into Bunny’s playroom and we can have a look at your activity boxes, alright, little one?”

Bob felt the nod of your head against his arm and he smiled softly to himself, pleased that you were taking to this already familiar headspace and dynamic. However, he could still sense the tenseness residing in your muscles, and how tightly you were gripping onto his hand and arm.

Your playroom was your favourite room. It made you feel small when you needed it, it made you feel like you and your Daddy could conquer the world when you were playing, but most importantly, it made you feel safe. Safe inside from the big, bad, horrible world outside and the nasty people who resided there.

It was coloured with pastel pinks, blues and purples, with bright bursts of colour where needed. It held all of your stuffed animals (besides the ones you slept with every night), toys ranging from the ages of infancy, to five years old. There were colouring books, pencils and pens, alongside reading books and the entire collection of Peter Rabbit. Inside a small stack of drawers, were some of your clothes that you preferred to wear when you regressed, the others being kept in your shared bedroom with Bob for when you were going to sleep together.

When you weren’t sleeping together and you needed a nap during the day, there was a single bed in the corner of your playroom. When you weren’t napping in it, it acted as a fantastic sofa where you and your Daddy would read together, or watch a film before you fell asleep. There was a small screen television with a stack of DVDs next to it, sitting opposite your bed.

Most importantly in the room, however, and where Bob was leading you to currently, were your activity boxes.

For you, inside these boxes held items such as activities to do, clothing and utensils, like the pacifier or bottle you preferred, and a comfort item. Something that would help soothe whatever your needs were right now.

For Bob, however, these boxes contained something else. A gauge for how you were feeling, how small you were and most importantly, your current emotional well-being and headspace.

Bob knew that his sweetheart could regress positively, and would simply want to enjoy being small and let go of adult responsibilities, but, he also knew that his sweetheart could regress due to trauma. These boxes were created by you both, so when you simply couldn’t communicate verbally, you were still able to tell your caregiver exactly what you needed.

Bob could tell that you were still struggling to shake something off and he suspected that you were regressing due to the latter. He registered how tightly you were holding onto him and how firmly you pressed yourself into his side, not wanting to have your safety blanket of him, taken away from you. He held onto this as he held onto you, leading you into your playroom and sitting down with you on the plush carpet in front of the boxes. As he sat down and guided you with him, he placed you onto his lap, and like butter melting in a hot pan, you melted into him. You sat in his lap and instinctively your arms rang around his neck, burying your face into his neck and collar. The warmth of his skin and his familiar scent of lavender, mixed with a muskier wooden smell, flooded your nostrils and soothed another inch off your shoulders.

Bob had one firm arm wrapped around you and kept you safely in place next to him. His other outstretched and pointed at the boxes.

“Okay, my little one. Do you want to tell Daddy which activity box you’d like?”

You peered out from your hiding face that was pressed into his neck. A confused frown was etched onto your features and he watched as your eyebrows knitted tightly together, your frown turning into frustration. Bob heard a tiny and frustrated grumble come from your throat.

Verbalizing your preferred box couldn’t happen, so instead he pointed at the four boxes and asked with a soothing lilt in his voice.

“This one?”

He repeated the question for each box, but still came no real signs of indication which you wanted right now. Your frown of frustration was now combined with your bottom lip wobbling and your eyes turning glassy.

The frustrated grumble in your throat became a whimper and you buried your face back into Bob’s neck, at your best attempt to hide. He felt you swallow thickly and he heard you sniff back the tiny tears that were escaping.

Mumbled against his t-shirt, he heard your voice shake with uncertainty and again, upset frustration.

“No… don’t… know.”

“Oh, my little bunny.” Bob cooed at you, with one of his hands resting on the back of your head and cradling you gently. He rocked you slightly in his lap and let your tears dampen his t-shirt.

He knew.

He knew before you even picked out the box.

You were very, very tiny.

Bob comforted you with the easiest phrases for your tiny headspace. “It’s okay, Bunny. Big decisions are hard, but how about,” His hand slid round from the back of your head to your chin, to angle your teary eyes to his. “You show Daddy what feeling is in there, right now.” His slender index finger gently tapped on your chest. He knew that you couldn’t articulate what your brain was processing right now, but deep in your chest and against your rib cage, was always where you felt it most, and Bob knew that.

“Are you feelin’, happy?”

Bob registered how you didn’t react to that emotion and moved onto suggesting the next.

“Brave?”

Again, no reaction found its way to your tear-stained face.

“Sad?”

Your breath hitched.

“Scared?”

Your breath hitched again and your eyebrows furrowed, with your eyes darting around as they did when you initially came into your loving home.

Bob was proud of you and that you were able to communicate to him how you were feeling, but the emotions themselves made his stomach drop through to the floor.

His career as a pilot, and now flying in Top Gun, had always been a job for him. He was proud of his accomplishments, but it was just another day at the office for him. However, when he held your frightened and upset body, tightly in his arms, he swore that he would fire his missiles down on whoever made his Bunny feel like this. But that was for another moment in his life to consider. Right now, his utmost priority is you. He took great pride in being your caregiver and perhaps, he was even prouder of himself for taking care of you like this in such an intimate way, that surpassed his career.

Bob was drawn out of his train of thoughts by your face being pushed back against his shoulder and the sound of a small whine escaping your lips.

“Dada…” You mumbled out with a whine. Your hands grabbed tight fistfuls of his t-shirt. Bob recognized that this was your way of agreeing that you needed that particular box right now and most importantly, that you needed your Daddy to come with it.

He pressed his cheek against yours and pressed a gentle kiss to your temple, with his hand cradling the back of your head again. In a close and reassuring voice, Bob said, “I’m so proud of you, my little bunny, for telling Dada how you’re feelin’ right now.”

You felt an instantaneous weight being scraped off your shoulders. For within your tiny headspace, you came to understand that you had your Dada Bobby and your box. Things would be okay. You were going to be okay.

Bob felt the pressure of a deep breath release from your lungs and you lifted your head from his shoulders, although you were still holding on tightly to him.

“Dada…”

Your glassy eyes were still glazed over and your cheeks were still pink from the tears you shed, but that tight knot of frustration in your eyebrows had melted away. Bob understood your one verbal need.

“Shall Dada and Bunny open the box?”

You nodded slightly and he noticed a tiny curl in the corners of your lips, almost showing a small smile coming to grace your beautiful features. He responded with his full showing smile as he reached over to your box, to draw it closer to you both. He had one broad forearm still wrapped tightly around your waist to keep you firmly placed in his lap. He understood that any break in contact with himself could cause you to fall back into distress.

Inside this particular box held activities for you that were catered towards a tiny headspace, and that also involved your Daddy joining in and helping you. There was a brightly coloured, wooden shaped sorting box, to which Bob would help you match the shapes to the holes in the box. There was a bead maze, which you loved when Bob would put his large hand over yours to help guide the beads around the wire. Some storybooks were made of a whole array of different materials, with Bob helping you feel out each material and bring the sound of it close to your ear. There were a handful of colourful rattles, with different shapes and thicknesses to create different sounds. This box was very much made for you both to indulge within the senses and focus on the shapes and colours, together. It was stimulating for you, but gently within your tiny headspace, and absentmindedly, it would help distract you from the horrid torment that was racing around in your head.

There was a pastel pink pacifier, with a bunny rabbit print, and a soft, plush pacifier clip to attach it to, matching in colour. Bob nimbly attached it to your t-shirt, before placing it gently to your mouth. You let out a quiet, yet joyful hum as you soothed yourself. The last thing in your box was your baby bottle, which was decorated with sparkly wildlife stickers. He knew that you desperately needed to hydrate yourself, but to not break contact from his warm body, or this distraction, was paramount for you right now.

“Can Bunny help Daddy, slot these shapes away? ‘nd then, can Bunny help Daddy get something to drink? Daddy’s so thirsty!”

Bob played off the dramatics in a very convincing manner, as you eagerly nodded your head and behind your pacifier, he spotted the very first signs of your gleeful smile. A louder squeal was let out from your lips and one of your hands detached themselves from Bob’s t-shirt to grab onto the shaped sorting box.

It had worked. Twenty minutes later and you were still wrapped tightly around Bob’s frame, but giddily squeezing him and babbling behind your pacifier, as he filled up the last inch of your baby bottle with water and screwed the lid on tight.

In between this time, as you moulded into your Daddy and soaked up his comforting hold, it also enabled you to be parted, for just a couple of seconds, knowing that his warmth was right there. Therefore, Bob had been able to swap out your previous clothes for your matching, pastel pink, romper. It was buttoned and in case you still needed to feel his skin on yours, he could pop the first couple and press his warm skin to yours.

Bob chuckled at your constant squeezes to his waist and nonsensical babbling. “Alright, my little one, c’ere,” He reached down to your waist with a smile and picked you up to hoist you to his hip. “There you go.” He carried you back to your playroom with your bottle still in one hand. He gently nudged his fingertips with his spare hand, into your sides to get you giggling. The sweet laughter that rang out behind your pacifier was enough to cause his own.

“What game shall Dada ‘nd Bunny play next? Hm?” His eyes went wide behind his glasses and his eyebrows raised. He was putting on a face of excitement to keep you intrigued and engaged with your activities.

“Bee, Dada! Bee! Bee!”

He knew that you meant the bead maze. He laughed again as you squealed out your next activity with the utmost enthusiasm, and how you were already eagerly squirming in his grip to get back down on the floor of your playroom and huddled onto his lap.

He did exactly that and sat you down on his lap with the bead maze retrieved, and your bottle still in his hand. He rested you against him so that with one hand, he could hold the bottle to your lips and feed you, and his other could rest on yours and guide themselves along the beads, up and over the curling pieces of wire. His broad frame and shoulders almost wrapped themselves around you, as his arms outstretched to meet yours and the bead maze. You were cuddled tightly into his chest. You felt protected. You felt loved.

With the gentlest touch to move the beads, Bob had gently moved his little one from feeling terrified, to safe.

As you came close to finishing the last of your bottle, Bob removed it and placed your pacifier back. He pressed a featherlight kiss to your temple and before he continued with the exciting playtime that stood before you both, you heard his soothing voice next to your ear.

“Daddy’s so proud of you, my little bunny. I love you.”

tagging those who may be interested: @sunblchdfly @lewmagoo @peachystenbrough @rhettabbotts @becks-things @unmistakablyunknown @floydsmuse @just-in-case-iloveyou

[finn-m-corvex]

Aftershocks Pt. 1 - Cole

The first of the stories that you all voted on for October's poll! Since the poll tied, I said that you guys would be getting TWO stories on the same day instead of just one, and that's still happening! This one will be going up in the morning, and then Falling Sleeves will be going up in the afternoon, so I hope you guys enjoy this double-whammy. Lightning in a Cubicle Pt. 3 is also going up tomorrow just in time for DR Pt. 2!

Words: 3.7k

TWs: sensory overload stuff, vomiting mention but nothing graphic, lots of fluffy moments bc it's Whumptober and I can do that kinda stuff.

Jay shivered where he stood in the kitchen, reaching up into the cabinet to grab a clean glass so he could get some much-needed water. He ignored the way his vision suddenly tilted to the right, gripping the countertop in an effort to stay standing against the wave of vertigo that threatened to draw him under. Nausea rolled through his head, and it took everything in him not to duck his head into the sink and throw up every bit of bile in his body.

This sucked.

He reached up to try and rub circles into his aching temple before recoiling, blue sparks trailing from his fingers as he drew them away. Instead of trying again, Jay just shoved his hand back into the hoodie's large pocket with a defeated sound. Guess that little trick of his wasn’t going to work this time, which would of course make this a thousand times more miserable.

Skin crawling from the scratchy t-shirt he had on, Jay ignored the way the hoodie felt uneven on his shoulders no matter how many times he readjusted it. His socks felt like they were suffocating his feet, and the hair stuck to the back of his neck with sweat made him feel claustrophobic; the only thing not bothering him at the moment were his pants, but he wasn’t sure how long that was going to last. At the moment Jay wanted nothing more than to curl up in his bed on fresh sheets in nothing but his boxers, wrapped up in his favorite weighted blanket and sleeping the day away. Except he couldn’t do that, because then he would have to explain his current predicament to the others, and he did not feel like playing a game of twenty questions when he was feeling this sucky.

Definitely overdid it on the last mission, he thought to himself as he finally snatched the glass, shuffling over to the sink to fill it. The motions sent familiar waves of pain radiating through his legs, pins and needles burying themselves deep into his skin. Jay turned the sink on, and immediately had to turn it off because when did it get so loud? 

Preparing himself properly this time, he filled his glass, even if the sound of the rushing water made him want to smash his head into the wall. He raised the glass to his lips, taking a very shaky sip of water; it was the first time he had drank anything in a day and a half.

First Master, he wanted a hug. He wanted a hug so badly. A tight one, a loose one, even a side-hug, he would take anything at this point.

Why were his hands shaking so bad? He knew why, of course, but he was going to ignore the problem for as long as he possibly could. Part of him wondered if he could make it to the laundry room and grab his compression gloves without the others noticing; those would definitely help. Zane had insisted on washing them after their last mission since it had involved quite a trek through the muddy woodlands of Primeval's Eye, and the gloves hadn't escaped unscathed.

His plan of ignoring all of his ailments was shot down pretty quickly when Cole came strolling into the kitchen only a minute later, flicking the light switch that Jay had intentionally left alone.

The blue ninja gave a small cry, free hand tangling itself in his hair as his vision whited out because ow ow ow it hurts it hurts-

Cole quickly turned the lights off, and Jay was left gasping for breath at the counter as his vision came swimming back into focus. It was a miracle that the glass hadn't slipped from his fingers and cracked on the floor. The hand buried in his hair started tugging in distress as Jay's barely contained panic threatened to rise to the surface, lightning struggling to leap from his body into any available surface willing to ground it. Why did his element always have to act up at the worst of times?

"Jay?" Cole asked, and Jay flinched because why was he talking so loudly? "What are you doing in here with the lights off? You okay?" 

He put the glass down onto the counter, leaning on his elbows over the sink. He wasn't entirely sure if he was going to throw up or not. "Headache."

The earth ninja made a small concerned noise that made Jay want to cry; Cole was definitely upset with him. "You overdid it on the mission, didn't you?"

And he was not in the headspace to be lectured; he was barely coherent enough to think of basic sentences. "Not right now, Cole-" 

"You told us when we got back that you would be fine!" Cole continued, "But you weren't, were you? I bet you got home and thought you could take care of it yourself but-"

Jay pitching forward into the sink with a strangled gagging sound was not what the ravenette was expecting to happen, but he quickly adapted to the new situation. Jay's fingers kept tugging on his hair so hard that it started to hurt, and the extra stimulation just made the lightning in his gut even stronger as it responded to Jay’s distress. Skin crawling, Jay’s fingers went to itch at the skin on his forearm, hoping for any sort of sensation to distract him from the pounding in his head.

"Stop it, Jay, that's not helping. Here, I gotcha,” Cole quickly did his best to break the vicious cycle, untangling Jay's hand from his hair and replacing it with his own larger one. He wrapped his arm around the front of Jay’s torso, frowning at the intensity of the smaller ninja’s shaking.

The blue ninja only sunk into Cole’s hold, shoving as much of his body weight onto his brother as he could. Somehow, Cole’s touch made the crawling so much easier to manage, and now Jay wanted nothing more than to be in his brother’s arms for as long as he wanted.

Cole squeezed Jay tightly. “I think you need to lay down, Sparky. C’mon, we’ll go to the couch.”

Except Jay couldn’t move. He whined when Cole tried to pull him away from the sink, knuckles going white with the force of his grip on the counter’s edge. Cole winced in sympathy when Jay vomited again, the sound of his gagging echoing off of the small kitchen walls as nothing came up (that was concerning in itself). He rubbed his brother’s back comfortingly, his hand in the auburn hair working to keep Jay’s bangs out of his face.

“Thank you,” Jay panted softly, spitting into the basin with disgust.

“Anytime. You really don’t feel good, huh?” Cole said softly, grunting as Jay nearly collapsed onto him.

“What was your first clue?” Jay snapped, even though he knew it wasn’t Cole’s fault he was feeling like shit, it was his. Reaching behind him and wincing from the feel of the fabric under his fingers, Jay drew his sweatshirt hood up and over his head, even though it did nothing to muffle the small sounds around him and only made his claustrophobia so much worse. Hurray.

Cole just hummed, still carding through Jay’s hair and lightly running his nails along the blue ninja’s scalp. He was more than experienced enough to know when to interfere and when to just let things slide. Jay closed his eyes and let some of his excess lightning course through his body; he knew it wouldn’t hurt Cole and he needed it out. Some of the tension finally bled out from his shoulders as the invisible pressure relieved itself, his body no longer having to work overtime to keep his powers in check. 

They stayed like that for a few minutes, blue lightning humming across his skin as Cole gave Jay time to catch his breath and dispell some of the dizziness from being upright for too long. “Are you okay to lay down now?”

“Yeah, I-I think so.”

“Bed or couch?” Cole asked, and Jay had to think about it for a minute. The couch was closer, but the bed…

“Bed, please,” he said quietly. He wanted the comfort more than anything else right now; if he couldn’t fix it, then he would have to ride it out.

“I gotcha, buddy,” Cole said softly. “Come on, I’ll carry you so it’s easier. Just don’t throw up on me, alright?”

“No promises,” Jay groaned, clutching at Cole’s shoulders when his brother started to lift him up. Cole hooked one arm under Jay’s rear to hold him, the other hand going to rub in smooth strokes across the blue ninja’s back. The motion was achingly familiar from all of the other times that the two of them had been in this situation, and Jay just huddled closer to his big brother when he felt the tears stinging at his eyes.

Here was the hug he had wanted so badly, and Jay wouldn’t trade it for anything in the whole world.

Walking back to the bedroom was a much smoother ride than it would’ve been if Jay had tried to go back by himself, and suddenly he was grateful that at least one person knew about his predicament. Cole knew the drill, keeping his steps as even as he could and swinging Jay as little as possible as he went. He knew Jay would do his damndest to keep his bodily fluids to himself even if Cole wasn’t being careful, but Jay was already having a rough enough time as it was. 

The earth ninja squeezed his little brother just a little tighter, hoping the extra pressure would bring him some peace of mind.

Opening the door to the bedroom with a well-practiced movement, Cole made sure to flick the lights off before checking to see if anyone else was inside. It was empty; everyone else must still be outside training. Cole already knew that he was going to have to send a message to the groupchat about Jay’s condition, even if he knew that the blue ninja would have something to say. Jay always did; it was one of Cole’s favorite things about him.

Putting Jay down on his bed after moving the covers, Cole was quick to shut the black-out curtains over the window. They were something he had invested in a long time ago when Jay went through his first sensory overload and they had proven themselves useful time and time again. “Do you need anything?”

“New hoodie?” Jay groaned, sitting up and starting to peel his current hoodie off; he couldn’t stand the texture anymore. His shoulders ached from the movements, throbbing uncomfortably as he laid his head against the pillow. Even the small movement aggravated his blossoming migraine (pretty sure that’s what it was turning into), and he was more than grateful that Cole had closed the curtains before the sunlight could do very much damage.

“I’ll do you one better.” Cole dug around in his drawers, snatching up one of his softest hoodies (Jay’s favorite) and a simple black shirt. Turning around, he threw Jay’s old hoodie into his laundry basket; it would end up back in Jay’s hands eventually.

“Touch okay?” Cole asked, sitting down on the bed.

“Yeah,” Jay whispered, hand brushing his bangs out of his face. He could feel the subtle heat of his fever from his forehead; it was a sure sign that his lightning was still acting up, “please.”

Cole didn’t waste any time in stripping Jay out of his soaked-through shirt and putting the new one on, and he snickered at how large it was on his smaller brother. The thing practically came down to the blue ninja’s knees, and Jay was more than happy to tuck his legs under the hem, leaving just his feet poking out from the bottom. He shouldn’t have felt so much satisfaction from the new position, but that’s ADHD for you.

The earth ninja sighed. “How many times have I told you to stop stretching out my shirts?”

“Don’t care,” Jay replied half-heartedly.

“I know,” Cole said, shuffling down to be next to his brother. “You know I don’t really mind. Now how are we doing this?”

Jay bit his lip, feeling his face flush with shame as he popped his legs back out. How old was he? Certainly old enough to be able to take care of this himself. His anxiety flared, and Jay quickly found his breath running out and suddenly he was struggling to breathe because First Master what was he supposed to do when his brothers weren’t there and he would have to do this alone-

Until strong arms settled around him, drawing him into Cole’s larger chest with one of his legs thrown overtop of Jay’s. Jay ignored how he could feel every one of the earth ninja’s leg hairs, instead focusing on the rise and fall of Cole’s chest against his back and how pleasant the fabric of the new shirt felt against his sensitive skin.

“Breathe,” Cole told him gently, hands going to Jay’s belly and rubbing in soothing circles. The knot in Jay’s stomach slowly started to come undone.  “I don’t mind, seriously. I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t want to be here. Do you need me to lay on top of you?”

Wordlessly Jay nodded, and Cole was quick to shift positions so that he was directly on the blue ninja. As soon as he stopped moving, Jay felt like a weight had lifted off of his chest, ironically enough. Cole chuckled when he felt his brother relaxing, reaching up to lace their fingers together and cross his ankles on top of Jay’s. Jay always told Cole that he felt like the world’s best weighted blanket, large and warm and heavy enough to be grounding but not suffocating (even if all of the others would disagree). Exhaling, Jay felt himself relax even more when Cole reached and pulled the blankets over both of them, making sure to tuck them up so that it was like a little tent for Jay. This was already so much better than how he felt in the kitchen.

“Okay?” Cole asked, and Jay hummed in agreement.

“Yeah.”

“Good, now how about you get some sleep, huh? So you’re a bit less of a grouch?”

Shutting his eyes, Jay was more than content to let his brother’s breathing soothe him and the insult slide, the rhythmic inhales and exhales like a soft lullaby in his ear with Cole’s heartbeat to accompany it. Wishing Cole a soft goodnight even though it was the middle of the day, the blue ninja fell fast asleep to the feeling of Cole tracing along the backs of his hands and a small kiss pressed against his forehead.

Quickly pulling out his phone from his pocket after seeing that Jay was asleep, Cole opened up his messaging app, clicking on the chat with everyone but Jay that they used when he was out of commission.

Earth Wind and Tired

Hey, Jay’s not doing too good

Watergirl

wdym

Earth Wind and Tired

I think he overdid it on the last mission

Sour Green AppLloyd

shit srsly???

Earth Wind and Tired

Yeah, he threw up in the kitchen and I couldn’t clean it

Frozone But Cooler

Do not worry, I will take care of it. Is he resting?

Earth Wind and Tired

Yeah, just got him to sleep but I’m stuck in bed. Can I get some help?

Watergirl

me and kai are coming hang tight

It was only a couple minutes before Cole heard his door open, two sets of footsteps scurrying in and closing the door. Cole watched as Nya and Kai both crouched down next to his bed with worried looks on their faces, eyebrows pinched in a similar sibling manner. They were still in their training gi; Nya must’ve been checking her phone right when Cole texted and paused the training session.

“Hey,” Nya whispered, “everything okay?”

“Jay’s getting pretty sick,” Cole said in a low tone, squeezing his brother’s hand. Jay didn’t squeeze back, good. He was still asleep. “Threw up more than once in the kitchen from the typical sensory stuff. Definitely a headache, muscle aches, fatigue, and grouchy too. Very huggy.”

“Do we have his pudding?” Kai asked, even though Nya was already making a note on her phone to send to Zane.

“We’ll have to run out and get it,” she sighed. “But that’s fine, we’ll pick up some other stuff for him too, not the end of the world. Is he running a fever?”

“Starting to,” Cole moved his head to let Nya press the back of her hand against Jay’s neck and forehead, her thumb lingering on the small scar across his left eye. He saw her eyes cloud over with emotion, and he was quick to press a kiss to her knuckles as Jay leaned into her touch. “He’ll be okay, Nya. He just needs some rest.”

“I know,” Nya murmured, eyes softening when drool started leaking out of her Yin’s mouth as he snored, much to Cole’s false chagrin.

“Every single time,” Cole fake-grumbled, and to both of their surprises Kai was the one to reach out and wipe it away without a word, although the red ninja had a gentle smile on his face as he did so.

Nya started taking her training gi off, reaching behind her to root around through Cole’s dresser and throwing on one of his shirts and a hoodie. Kai and Cole looked away when she threw her bra into Cole’s laundry bin, pulling a pair of Cole’s boxers up and over her waist so that she was clothed entirely in the earth ninja’s attire.

“Shove over, I’m coming in,” Nya said, and Cole shifted over as best as he could to make room for her, turning Jay on his side but making sure he stayed asleep. She laid down on her side next to Jay, close enough for her to pillow his head in the crook of her neck and cup the back of his neck. Nya pressed a few kisses to his hair in a rare show of affection, and Cole watched with bated breath as Jay started to stir.

The blue ninja barely blinked his eyes open. “Nya?”

“Hey, hun,” she said quietly, kissing his warming forehead and then his flushed cheeks. “You don’t feel so good, do you?”

Jay whimpered, tucking his arms against his chest and making himself smaller as Nya adjusted her hold on him. Cole wrapped his arms around both of them, making a fist with his hands and rubbing light circles into Nya’s back. 

“Back to sleep for you, dear,” Nya said, cheek to his hair with Cole kissing her forehead. Jay hummed in agreement, content to ball up her shirt in his hands as she threaded her fingers through the auburn curls. The touch soothed Jay, and he let himself bask in the joy of having his Yang and his best friend loving on him His head was still pounding and he was entirely too nauseous for his liking, but having both of them there made everything so much better than it would’ve been if he had gone back to his own bed, all alone.

Alone. He didn’t like being alone when he was sick.

“You’re not alone,” Cole said softly, nuzzling his face into Jay’s hair. “We’re right here, and so is Kai, and none of us are going anywhere.”

The knot in his chest loosened when Kai laid his hand on Jay’s arm, and Jay let the tension he had been holding in his shoulders leak out until they relaxed completely; the sensation was a little strange after keeping them up for so long. Yeah, he still felt like a steaming hot pile of shit left outside to bake in the sun, but it was okay. It was going to be okay.

Kai stood up from the side of the bed, watching as Jay’s eyes closed and his breathing evened out again. “I’m gonna get you guys some water since you might be here for a while. Need anything else?”

“Granola bars,” Cole said, and Nya nodded in agreement. “The peanut butter ones with marshmallows.”

Sighing, Kai shook his head in fond exasperation. “I’ll never understand how you guys can like those things, but okay. I’ll see what I can find.”

“Thanks Kai,” Nya called as the fire ninja walked out of the door, making sure to close it as quietly as possible. The two of them stayed silent for a minute, listening to the sound of Jay’s breath ease in and out of his chest and the dull thunks of someone hitting the dummies outside, probably Lloyd. Nya started playing footsies with Cole, even though her shoe size was a fraction of his, and she groaned when she very quickly lost the game as Cole extended his giraffe legs over her own normal-sized ones. She pulled out her phone, and Cole was expecting that to be the end of that when she suddenly shoved the device into his hands.

Cole looked at it in confusion, turning it around and reading the screen. “What?”

“We’re playing Heads-Up, now get a move on and pick a category so we can start.”

“Nya, you could’ve just said you were bored,” but Cole did what she asked, picking the music category and holding the phone to his forehead as best he could with one free arm, the other buried under Jay and Nya. Nya snorted when she saw his choice.

“Oh come on, you know I’m not that good at music!”

“I just gave you some new records last week! Did you not listen to them?”

“No old man, I don’t have time to listen to records. I have a life, you know-”

Jay made a small noise, and both of them went dead silent as the blue ninja moved around a little, throwing his leg over Nya’s and making a satisfied noise as he hiked it up. Nya was more than used to the drool that started leaking onto her hoodie, only making sure that it wouldn’t go down her collar and on her shirt with a sigh before turning to look at Cole. She smoothed her hand through her Yin’s curls, letting the stuttery thump of his heart fill her with calm. He was here, and he was going to be fine.

“Quieter?” she said. Cole scrunched his face up, thinking, before nodding.

“Quieter.”

“We’re still playing though?”

“Hell yeah, Waterlily, and I’m gonna kick your ass.”

[strixcattus]

Chapter III: Fight/Flight

Everything goes dark, and he dies.

History

It takes a few minutes of waiting to realize that no one is there.

He can’t blame himself for not making the connection, really. Sure, they could easily chat up a storm even when there’s only three of them, but he’s seen moments of silence before. Maybe the big guy was just taking a moment to assess the situation.

But he isn’t, and when Opportunist finally caves and tries to take a look around, his head turns at his own command.

The cabin is a… bit of a fixer-upper, to be sure. Its doorway is sagging into the ground, and the ceiling doesn’t seem to be the most stable, and the door itself is ragged at the edges and looks as though it might swing inward at any moment. It doesn’t even have a latch. That’s to say nothing of the lopsided, gaping windows that let in a breeze from outside, or the gaps between the logs making up its walls that he can tell are there even though he can’t see them all.

Still, it’s not a lost cause or anything. Log cabins are nice! They’re classic! And old homes are all the rage. With a bit of work to seal up the cracks and some glass in the windows and some insurance that the ceiling wouldn’t cave in and a new door and maybe replacing all the creaking floorboards that feel a moment away from snapping beneath his feet, this place could be a perfectly cozy woodland retreat!

He wonders what sort of Princess lives here. Maybe he should go down and talk to her about the real estate potential.

The blade is perched, as it occasionally is, on the edge of a table which wobbles as he lifts the blade from it. That’ll have to be looked at.

He keeps the blade hidden behind his back as he descends the clearly-aging staircase. If it comes to a fight, he’ll be glad to have it, but there’s no reason to put her off before they’ve even had a chance to speak.

The Princess’s voice, loud and low, reaches him before he can see the basement. “I can smell you,” she growls.

Well! She seems like she’s a very straightforward person. He’s sure they’ll be able to cooperate.

The basement itself is unusually dark, the only light coming from a grate in the ceiling. Even that root cavern, without a window at all, didn’t have shadows like these. Despite the darkness, thick plants press in from the sides of the room, providing a touch of life to the otherwise empty space.

Before his eyes can fully adjust to the lack of light, a shape rises in front of the far wall and disappears into the jungle. That must be the Princess!

“Hello,” he calls out before she can say anything. “Lovely place you’ve got down here!” She doesn’t answer, so he presses on. “The name’s—Broken. And you would be?”

She chuckles from somewhere he can’t see. “We have no need for names here, fledgeling. You’ll never survive if you keep stalling.” Her eyes appear between the leaves, glinting in what little light can reach them. The rest of her is still immersed in shadow.

“Oh, come on. I’m just trying to get things off to a friendly start here!” Opportunist squints, trying to pick out her silhouette. “I’m sure we can cooperate, yeah? You want out, right? I can get you out.”

“You’re right. You can.”

The Princess’s form vanishes, and Opportunist leans further into the darkness. His eyes should adjust soon enough, right? She’s clearly able to see just fine.

Then jaws appear, blotting out his vision, and everything goes dark.

…And he doesn’t die.

He wrenches one eye open to see stomach lining pressing in on all sides, every touch of it stinging his skin. How he’s getting enough light to tell this, he isn’t sure, and he’d rather not think about it too hard.

“I told you you wouldn’t survive if you stalled.” He can hear muffled footsteps through the walls of the Princess’s stomach. “You should have listened.”

He turns on instinct, arm rubbing against the wall of her stomach with a sting that can only mean it’s begun to eat through his sleeve. “Come on, now, I was just trying to start a rapport! I was perfectly happy to work with you. Actually, tell you what—you spit me out, and I still can.”

The Princess laughs, the sound echoing around him. “You are working with me. You’re going to let me out of here.”

“I can’t do that while I’m in your stomach, can I?” Maybe he can still talk his way out of this. Surely she has to listen to reason, right?

“No. But I can.” There’s a pause in the Princess’s movement, before it starts again with the sound of clanging metal. She must have broken the chain.

She does want to escape with him. By eating him.

Well. This may be a lost cause, but it always looks better if you go down fighting.

He digs into the inside of the Princess’s stomach with the blade, flesh parting easily even as his own screams in protest. The skin of his hands is raw and red by now, with most of the feathers on his arms absent. He tries not to look at them.

Gravity pulls him away from his work, and he struggles to regain his footing as all sensation from his legs is replaced by a monotone pain. She’s ascending the staircase.

Little by little, her stomach lining parts, and his hands grow weaker. He can almost see the motion of her heartbeat now. This is his chance to go out a hero.

And wake up in a new, weirder cabin, but that’s just another pro.

He almost swears this process feels familiar.

There’s a slam, jolting him as far as he can be jolted in such a confined space. No doubt the Princess is trying to break down the door. Why not just climb through the window? Surely it’s large enough.

Only seconds left, probably. He’ll have to make this count.

He plunges the blade into the Princess’s heart as sensation cuts out.

He wakes up in a cabin. Time clearly hasn’t treated it as well as it deserves—the ceiling and floor are both sagging, and the door doesn’t look like it latches. The windows are completely devoid of glass, and the logs making up its walls—

This is the same cabin. What’s up with that?

Oh well. A second chance is a second chance, and he’s not about to argue against whatever forces decided he deserved one.

He scoops the blade from the table on his way down. After meeting that Princess, he definitely wants a backup plan if negotiations go sour a second time.

“Back for more?” the Princess taunts, already invisible in the jungle. Her voice sounds as though it’s coming from deep in the basement.

“Now, I want you to know I hold absolutely no grudges.” He holds up his empty hand. “I’m more than willing to work with you. You don’t have to worry about fighting me.”

The Princess’s eyes appear between the leaves. “Why would I need to work with you? I already know how to leave.”

This is going to take more than a little convincing. “Yes, but wouldn’t it be easier if we came to some sort of mutual understanding? I’m willing to do whatever it takes to get you out of here.”

Her eyes flash. “Then hold still.”

No, he doesn’t think he will.

He dives out of the way as something immense hurtles past him, landing heavily behind him—or, behind most of him.

One of his legs crunches as some load-bearing part of the Princess comes down upon it, sending him to the floor. He doesn’t even get the chance to look up before he’s enveloped by her maw again.

“I can just dig my way out again, you know,” he calls to the Princess. “It’s not too late for us to reach a peaceful resolution!”

She chuckles. “It was always too late for that, fledgeling. If you want to dig your way out, then start digging.”

Hard to please, isn’t she? Ah well. He’ll just have to try again with whatever comes after this.

He doesn’t hesitate to dig with the blade, this time knowing exactly where to find the Princess’s heart. It’s exposed almost before sensation begins to drain from his hands.

“Just thought I’d let you know, this is your last chance!” he calls. The only response from the Princess is the jostle of her passing the threshold of the stairs.

Oh well. Third time’s the charm.

He plunges the blade into the Princess’s heart, and everything goes dark.

He wakes up in a cabin. The roof and floor are constructed from aging wooden planks, and the walls are formed from logs, framing a set of empty windows and a door that hangs loosely on its hinges. The corners of the room have dirt building up in them.

It’s the same cabin. He’s getting a third chance? Someone up there must really like him.

The routine continues with him picking up the blade as he steps over the threshold. Can’t have her eating him without an escape route at hand, not that he intends to be eaten a third time.

She is waiting, of course, the outline of her head just visible over the top of a bush.

“If you eat me again, it’s only going to go the same way,” he says.

The Princess’s silhouette vanishes only to reappear a moment later in a slightly different patch of jungle. She’s nearing the stairs, no doubt trying to cut off his escape. “I can accept that. Can you?”

What? “I’d like to think I’m the sort of person who follows through on his promises. And this is a promise.”

“So you kill me. And we wake up again. And then I eat you again, and you kill me again. And we wake up again.” The Princess vanishes again. “How many times will it take for you to give up on the cycle?”

“I think—” Opportunist begins, but the sound of pounding feet cuts him off and he dives out of the way, just in time for the Princess to catch nothing more than his shoulder. A set of gashes cut through his sleeve, bleeding red. She has claws, and they’re long.

His sunglasses clatter to the floor.

He turns to see the Princess—or what little of her form he can make out in the gloom—looming over him, directly next to the staircase.

“I can last a while,” he says, tightening his grip on the blade. There’s not much sense in keeping it behind his back now that she clearly knows he has it. “I’m pretty patient.”

“Pretty patient?” The Princess rises, looming over him. “If you are pretty patient, I am very patient. Incredibly patient. More patient than you can comprehend. Swallowing you three times is nothing. Ten times will be nothing. When we are down here for the fiftieth time, will you still have the will to stand against me?”

Opportunist blinks. The Princess is gone by the time his eyes reopen.

Then her claws—and he can see them this time, and they are very impressive—bear down on him, rending his blade arm open, and her jaws unfold into a cavern that swallows him whole. Again.

He swims around in her stomach, trying to ignore how he can feel the precise edge of every wound she inflicted on him. Maybe the blade is still here. He still has one working arm. He can still fight back.

The Princess shifts, motion once again catching before the chain breaks. It must have been repaired every time things reset. That’s good to know. Maybe he can use it on the fourth go-around.

She begins her journey up the stairs. The blade is nowhere to be found.

Time to bluff. He’s great at bluffing. “Better spit me out if you don’t want a repeat of the first two times!” he sings. The Princess doesn’t even slow down.

“You cannot tell me what happens and expect me to believe you, fledgeling,” she says. “Prove it or be proven a liar.”

…Rude. But fine. He can at least try his best.

He digs into the stomach lining with his sizzling hand, trying not to pay attention to how it bites at his fingertips and catches under his claws with every scratch he inflicts. Without the blade, it’s much slower going, and he’s jolted away from his work by the Princess slamming herself against the door before he can even inflict a respectable wound.

“It still won’t open,” she growls. “Let me out, fledgeling.”

No way. Not on her terms. “Only if you give me a trade. Spit me out, and we’ll leave. Deal?” It’s getting harder and harder to tell if he’s breathing deeply enough.

The Princess pauses for a moment. Coiling to batter down the door? Or considering his bargain?

“No.”

Everything goes red, then it goes dark, and then he dies.

He wakes up in a cabin, greeted with the by-now familiar sight of wooden planks doing their level best to hold themselves together when time failed them. It is chilly in here.

The Princess isn’t interested in negotiating while he’s in her stomach. Which means the only way to negotiate is to remain outside her stomach for long enough to do so.

He needs to channel that one flighty voice. Until he finds a way to win over the Princess, his motto is now WWHD: What Would Hunted Do?

He can almost hear his voice… just needs to get into the proper mindset and manifest him…

“Dodge her.”

Yeah, that sounds about right. Great advice, imaginary Hunted.

The Princess is waiting in the gloom when he arrives at the basement, her shape still just as hard to make out as it was the first time. “Are you ready to give up?” she asks.

“You know, I was really hoping you’d think more highly of me than that,” Opportunist says, straining to pick out any motion. If he can tell when she’s about to strike, then he can keep dodging, and talking, and eventually he’ll have to wear her down.

There. She’s disappeared from sight. That means she’s about to—

He leaps out of the way and rolls across the dirt floor as the Princess hurtles past him, bracing for the sting of her claws catching his arm or the snap of her weight hitting his leg. It… doesn’t come. The only pain is a slight scrape in his knee from where he landed.

He’s getting better at this!

The Princess coils by the staircase, cutting off his exit. That’s all right. He doesn’t need a way out when he can talk. “I know you think you can wait, but do you really want to?” he asks. “We could leave right now if we could just come to a mutually-agreeable conclusion.”

“I’ve waited for longer than you can imagine, fledgeling.” Her teeth glint in the darkness, the only features visible besides her eyes. “You cannot threaten me with time in a way that matters.”

He watches her. She does not move. “I’m not threatening you,” he begins. “Quite the opposite, in fact! I’m offering you the chance to cut out the long, arduous process of killing me over and over again until I give… up…”

Some time in the middle of his speech, she’s vanished. Any moment now, she’ll strike, and he’ll have to—

The air comes crashing down on him as he scrambles away, as do a set of needles digging into his back before the pressure is relieved. She’s mauled him. Badly. He needs to get away and regroup, before she can swallow him whole—

His legs fail to respond to his commands, and he hazards a glance behind him.

The edge of his jacket is frayed, blood and viscera seeping through it to the point that he can’t tell where it ends and the nothing begins. A shining trail leads from where the end of his spine should be, before it rises up into the Princess’s jaws.

Oh.

His intestines fall from the Princess’s mouth with a plap, leaving only a disappointed expression and a bloodstain on her face. She stares down at him in silence, viscera dripping from her chin.

Now would be a great time to say something, probably.

He doesn’t.

He wakes up in a cabin whose wooden ceiling looks about ready to give in. The logs framing the empty windows sag in defeat, and the floor is covered in a thin layer of soil. It was mostly-clean planks the first time around, wasn’t it?

It’s odd, but the cabin almost seems… tired. He can’t imagine why, given he isn’t.

When he reaches the bottom of the stairs, the Princess is nowhere to be seen. “Hello?” he calls out, scanning the room for her form. “Nice chat we had last time! I’d like to continue it.”

She doesn’t make a sound save for the rustling of her darting through a patch of underbrush. He knows where she is, now, or at least where she was.

“Again, I’m not trying to coerce you into anything.” Where is she? “I just want you to know that you have more options than you think. We want the same thing, you know.”

The feathers on the back of Opportunist’s neck prickle, and he whirls around. Nothing.

The Princess’s voice comes from behind him. “You cannot reason with me, fledgeling. I am so much more than you will ever be.”

She’s going to pounce. He has to move.

Air collides with him as he leaps away, Princess landing precisely where he stood a moment ago. Her chain clatters on the ground as she vanishes again.

That’s one.

“Yes, well, no man is an island.” It doesn’t sound like she’s moving. “And besides, more than me or not, you still can’t escape on your own. Which means, hate to break it to you, but I do have the bargaining chip here.”

The air shifts, and Opportunist finds himself diving on instinct, the Princess soaring past him. That’s two. That’s the first time he’s managed two. Thank you, imaginary Hunted.

He turns, trying to figure out where the Princess has disappeared to this time. “Just say the word, and I’ll march the two of us right up to that door and let you out,” he calls. “This can all end any time you want it to.”

Something in him screams to move, and move he does, but fangs clash on his arm all the same. It’s his blade arm. She’s taken his only weapon.

He scrambles backwards, gripping the stump of his former arm as though it will do anything to stop the bleeding. The Princess looms over him, in full view for the first time.

Her face is somewhere between human and animal, crown replaced with a horn in the center of her forehead, two buds flanking it as though about to emerge into its reflections. Her ears are pointed, and her hair—more like a mane now, really—hangs from her long neck.

Opportunist traces his eyes further down as he continues to crawl away from her. Despite her beastlike form, she’s still wearing a dress, formed from a strip of fabric that wraps around her torso. Her back half disappears into the shadows, the tip of a long tail emerging back into view.

She’s huge.

“I still haven’t given up,” he says as the Princess stretches open her jaw. “I want you to know that before you eat me.”

If she cares about that, she gives no sign before swallowing him whole. Again.

He wakes up in a cabin, ceiling and walls decaying into dirt. Shoots of new plant growth emerge from the floor, and the door looks to have been torn in half, already swinging into the basement.

…Maybe it’s past the point of no return now.

This Princess is far too stubborn to let him free based on talking alone. He needs to do something. Fight her, maybe. But how is he supposed to do that on his own? Her head is as big as his entire… him!

He needs to make a tactical retreat. See if there’s anyone else out there who can act as backup. Imaginary Hunted was helpful. Real Hunted would probably be enough to give him some force behind his words.

The door to the outside is still intact, and fits much more nicely in its frame than the other door, even before it was ripped apart. A quick try of the handle reveals it to be locked.

That’s fine. There’s more than one way out of a cabin.

Despite the clear collapse of the windows, the one on the left still looks plenty large to climb through. He’ll just slip out, fetch the first person he sees, and pop back into the cabin to finish what he star—

A force bars him from stepping more than halfway through the opening. He stands back, checks on the state of the window (folding in on itself, full of dirt) just in case it’s smaller than he thought (it isn’t), and tries again.

Again something stops him. The window may be little more than a hole in the wall letting in air, but he can run his hand across some sort of force. It won’t let him out.

No backup, then. That’s fine. He didn’t really need any help, it was just… it would have been helpful! Help is always helpful.

The only way out is down, back to the Princess. Does he need her to escape just as much as she needs him?

If he does, he’d best not let it slip. Let her think he still has the unambiguous upper hand.

She’s absent from view when he reaches the basement again. He swears the space is getting bigger and more exposed each time he comes down here, but she doesn’t seem to have any issues spotting him.

It’s fine. He’ll wait until he can pinpoint her location—which is to say, he’ll wait until she attacks him again—and then strike. Show her he’s more than just words.

And after that… he’ll think on his feet.

Shapes flicker at the edges of his vision. They’re probably tricks of the light—or lack thereof—but it doesn’t keep him from turning to look at them, trying to catch the Princess before she can catch him. They vanish every time.

There. A shift in the air. The Princess is about to attack. He needs to get out of the way, to keep himself intact. He needs to stay alive long enough to prove he’s not worth preying on.

He needs to show he can bite back.

As the Princess launches herself towards him, he ducks, slashing out with the blade. It connects with something, though he can’t tell what, and she connects with him in return, leaving a gash in one shoulder.

There’s blood on the edge of his blade. He actually did something!

The silhouette of the Princess looms over him, silent. He can’t see where he managed to wound her before she disappears back into the gloom.

“I don’t want to threaten you, but there’s more where that came from if you keep trying to eat me,” he calls out to the Princess. Still no response. Hopefully she hasn’t given up on taunting him. If she’s still talking, there’s at least a chance he can establish some sort of rapport, but with this silence…

Again the air shifts, and again he strikes as the Princess comes crashing down on him. There’s a sting in his other shoulder, and a spray of loose feathers—some black, some white. Probably all his, unless the Princess is hiding something he can’t guess at.

It’s only been a couple minutes, but already his energy is failing him. Is it the blood loss? He hasn’t been that badly injured. It can’t be the loops catching up to him, can it? His wounds reset every time, so he shouldn’t be exhausted just because he’s done a little dying.

The Princess doesn’t give him enough time to figure any of that out. She lunges again, and Opportunist can only feel his blade lodge into something hard and rip from his hand before there’s a crunch all around him, and everything goes dark, and he dies.

Again.

He wakes up in a cabin, if it can still be called a cabin after all the deterioration it’s gone through. The log walls, if they’re even under there anymore, are covered in dirt, and plants fill the edges of the space. The table that should be there is gone, replaced with a stump with the blade lodged into it.

Maybe he is tired. It’s been, how many go-arounds? Five? Six? That’s a lot, and even he has to admit he can’t keep this up forever. The Princess had more of a point than he’d like to admit.

Fighting her was a good idea. But it won’t get the Princess to cooperate with him, not unless he gets a lot better at fighting in the next few loops. And even if he technically might have infinite chances, does he really want to take that long?

He needs to end this, and he needs to do so before he can die a single time more. Which means he needs to be a little clever about things.

No more talking. No more fighting. He’s just going to draw her out and trick her into breaking down the door before she can get her claws on him.

He’s still taking the blade, though. If things go bad—they won’t, but if they go bad—he needs his second option.

The stairs are no longer stairs, but a sloped tunnel that narrows as it descends into the earth. How long have they been deteriorating? Did he just never notice them changing, or is this entirely new?

Doesn’t matter. What matters is winning.

When he steps out into the expanse of the basement, the Princess is nowhere to be seen. Neither are the plants that should be filling the space, or even the grate in the ceiling—just a featureless gloom. When did those vanish? 

He’s completely exposed, and she could be anywhere. He’ll have to be quick.

“Yoo-hoo!” he calls out, voice echoing faintly throughout the space. The Princess shows no response. “I think I’m ready for you to eat me now! Just, I’d like for there to be one little caveat—”

The sound of thundering footsteps comes from somewhere deep within the basement, and Opportunist turns and breaks into a run, sparing only enough breath to finish speaking: “You’ll have to catch me first!”

He can feel the Princess gaining on him, floor shaking with every time her feet hit the ground. But she’s clearly massive, and while the tunnel may be wide enough to allow him through with little trouble, she should be slowed down enough for him to get into position.

The entire tunnel shudders as the Princess slams her shoulders against its opening, and Opportunist nearly loses his footing. The cabin is nearly there. A little further and he’ll be—

He bursts into the cabin proper and stands in front of the door, ready to leap away as soon as the Princess emerges. Any second now.

Any second now…

Any second now…

She isn’t leaving. Is this some sort of trick? It has to be a trick, right?

“I’m right at the top of the tunnel!” he shouts down after the Princess. “Come and get me, unless you’ve given up?”

There’s still no response. He hazards a peek down the tunnel.

The Princess was, in fact, caught up by the tunnel’s small size. So much so that only her face is visible, framed by a few clawed hands and some part of a wing, all wedged into a space much too small for her.

She stares up at him, wriggling as though trying to advance—no. She’s pushing in on herself. She means to make her way backwards out of the tunnel, but it’s too narrow even for that.

Her face is hardly human anymore, and her hands certainly aren’t. A trio of antlers rise from her head, blood fresh on two of them. It looks… painful.

It’s a trick. It has to be. If he comes closer, she’ll eat him and…

She can’t get out on her own, even if she were to swallow him whole. And neither can he.

He takes a few steps forward. The Princess tries to squirm away. She can’t.

He raises the blade and brings it down on the dirt of the tunnel wall.

The Princess watches as he carves away at the soil, leaning away to allow him access to each wall of the tunnel. Dirt rains down on her, covering her stray feathers, but she doesn’t make so much as a move to attack him.

Having loosened a ring of soil around the Princess, Opportunist steps back.

She creeps forward, straining against the tunnel. One of her arms breaks free and claws at the dirt he’s yet to address, raking away the walls.

Little by little, the tunnel is chipped away, and little by little, the Princess advances until her head and shoulders have emerged into the cabin. Opportunist barely has enough room to stand between her and the door.

The Princess rears up as much as she can in the relatively cramped space, and Opportunist dives out of the way before her full weight lands on the door.

Soil collapses onto both of them, Opportunist losing sight entirely as it covers his head. This is it, then? He’s going to die inches from freedom because of a landslide?

Something grabs him from his shoulders and hoists him out of the earth. He twists his head upwards to see the Princess, fangs around him. So that’s it. He’s going to die inches from freedom because she’s going to eat him.

The Princess gently lowers her head, setting him on the ground before releasing her jaws.

She’s not going to eat him. Is it because she already has what she wants?

The woods around them resembles a thick jungle, undergrowth barely making way for the path and tall trees rising overhead. Behind them is the fallout of a massive landslide, a tree jutting out sideways from the heap of loose earth.

He stares up at the Princess. She’s… massive. She wasn’t that big when he first saw her. That much he’s certain of.

The Princess stares back down at him.

Then she bounds off into the woods, tail flicking behind her. Her form vanishes within moments.

At least she isn’t eating him.

“Nice meeting you!” he calls after her. “Talk again sometime?”

There is no response. Oh well. You can’t win over them all.