#large crane fly

[onenicebugperday]

Have you seen how big crane fly larvae are??? Wow

They can be quite large, yeah! Here's a large crane fly larva (Tipulidae):

More importantly though some of them have little "faces." Here's a tiger crane fly larva:

Lol. That's actually his butt I think.

Photos by lumenal and marcello

[jonnysinsectcatalogue]

Giant Crane Fly - Tipula metacomet

In the world of Crane Flies, it is expected that many of them would be sizable, at least when considering the span or their legs. For today's specimen however, she has a trifecta of a long body, long wings and a long reach with her legs! This individual is so large (overall), that she would comfortably fit in my palm for observation. She's so grand in fact, that when I found her, I nearly convinced myself that this insect was a Hangingfly (a type of Scorpionfly). While Crane Flies and Hangingflies can appear similar due to their size and spindly legs, Crane Flies possess only one pair of wings (with balancing halteres in place of a second pair) and their legs are also designed to detach when necessary. Hangingfly legs appear more sturdy and seem better designed to wrap around an object (to hang off of it) rather than perch or grasp like a Fly would, just like this individual is doing along the screen door and its frame. Another possible conclusion is a scary one, as Crane Flies resemble large Mosquitoes! And if a Mosquito would be this large, imagine how much blood she would need for her eggs! As for proper identification of this palm-sized, spindly Crane Fly, the first thing to consider is the size. The next point to examine is the thorax and confirm the presence of black markings. Confirmed, they're there! Following that, the identification markers for this branch of Crane Flies become more complicated (especially the patterned wings)

A closer look of the insect is needed, otherwise this insect could be mistaken for a relative specie, such as another Giant Crane Fly like T. abdominals. Still a giant, but the wrong giant, and there are only 2 in North America. I nearly labelled this find as the latter specie, but comparing the legs of both Flies held the key! The latter specie has pale markings just before and after the tibia joint on each of its six legs! T. metacomet meanwhile has uniformly colored dark legs, and also has a solid color on the first segment of its abdomen. A glimpse of it can be seen in the small gap above where the folded wings rest. While the brownish color may seem somewhat drab, a bright yellow decorates the middle section of the abdomen. You can see a little of that color through the wings, but you'll be able to see the color in full when this insect is in flight, trying to dash towards the light on the other side of the screen door. You may have some luck drawing them to lights during their nocturnal flights. They can have multiple generations over a year, so the timeframe to find them is wide, but remember not to intimidated by their size when they swoop in. Be startled maybe, but never intimidated. Finally, as you observe, take note of the abdomen's tip. If you see a spiked end - like today's find - you have a female specimen. Males have a rear appendage akin to a tri-clasper, and they also tend to be smaller than the females.

Pictures were taken on September 16, 2024 with a Google Pixel 4. Seeing this large, beautifully-winged specimen so close to autumn has gotten me nostalgic suddenly for Spring Fishflies, another insect (of an entirely different insect order) that seems intimidating at first, but is actually harmless.

[michaelnordeman]

Life around a small pond: Southern Hawker/blågrön mosaikslända, Large Marsh Grasshopper/kärrgräshoppa, a very young Common Toad/vanlig padda and Marsh Crane Fly/kärrharkrank. Sätraskogen Nature Reserve in Stockholm, Sweden (August 30, 2013).

[murderofravens]

BABY, I'M RIGHT HERE

pairing: hwang inho/young-il/frontman x fem reader

warnings: large age gap (20 vs late 40s) angst. slow burn. slight infantilization. no use of y/n. codependency. obsession from both sides. unhealthy dynamics. plot with porn. fingering. oral fixation. brat tamer inho. sub!reader. reader is very touch starved. a little yandere vibes. emotional manipulation. i made him very fatherly but toxic oops.

summary: he promised that you will make it out alive. he will make sure of it, no matter what it takes.

word count: 8k more or less

SEQUEL TO: DUSK TILL DAWN

FINAL PART: FLY ME TO THE MOON

SERIES MASTERLIST | MASTERLIST

please ignore mistakes.

you can't remember half of it. everything happened so quickly— your little moment of bliss shattered by 388's quick warning. the lights went out. one moment you were in young-il's arms, the next he was dragging you down towards 456, who was hiding under another bed. he shifted to make room for you and you crawled to his side. young-il followed.

"stay quiet," 456 whispered, looking around. not much was visible in the dark, but soon enough, the loud noise of bottles shattering and people screaming began echoing through the hall.

"they're killing each other—" you whisper, eyes wide. you shift slightly, raising your head. you try to sit up. "they're killing our side of the people—"

young-il halted your movements with a hand on your arm, "don't move." he hissed. "we can't leave till the guards come in."

"what?" you snap, voice hushed, "if they kill all our people, what's gonna happen in the next vote? we'll lose!"

"there won't be a next vote," 456 added, flinching slightly at another sharp cry. he looked determined. "we're stopping this today."

you glanced at him, heartbroken. you looked out again, heartbeat picking up as you saw player 380 run away from nam-gyu. he was on her tail, visibly trying to kill her. a bottle lay there by the bed, and before young-il could stop you, you slid it out. nam-gyu tripped on it and fell on his face. luckily, it was too dark and he was too worked up to check who it was. you just hoped it gave player 380 enough time to hide.

young-il restrained you then, pushing you down slightly so you were fully sandwiched between him and 456, "don't compromise our position!"

"how much longer?" you whispered, ignoring him. you winced as more sounds of bones cracking and people choking on their own blood took over the entire room. neither of them answered, but even 456 jumped a little as the body of one of the girls on your side fell to the floor.

your eyes widened as the girl's eyes met yours, and then she sputtered out blood before laying there, lifeless.

"don't look." young-il voiced out, craning his neck down to meet your gaze. he clenched his jaw, settling you with a cold glare, "look at me."

"you should've told me this was the plan," you hissed through gritted teeth, squinting as the flashing of lights overwhelmed your senses, "would you be okay if that was m—mphh!"

he put a finger to your lips, shaking slightly as he gave you another warning glare. 456 watched with bated breath, as if counting all the people dying.

the lights go off again, and the room remains dark. only the noises of people fighting can be heard.

"time to move," 456 tells young-il, who nods and begins shifting out of the bed. you follow along, but he pushes you back in, "don't get out until i tell you."

"what?" you frown, confused. your words are quick, "you expect me to hide here while you go out there to do god knows what—

as you speak, young-il grits his teeth, frustrated. he's desperate as he grabs your shoulders. he glances back, makes sure no one sees before silencing you with a kiss. it leaves you breathless. he cups your face and looks into your eyes intensely, "don't get out until i tell you to." his voice is urgent, "close your eyes, put your hands to your ears. trust me, and listen to me for once."

you blink rapidly before nodding, still a little out of it. you don't think you'll ever get used to how good kissing him feels. you wish you could feel it again and again, under better circumstances.

456 hisses for young-il, and he pats your head before rushing away as soon as the doors open. the guards come in, rapidly firing their machine guns towards the ceiling, stopping the fight. you watch carefully, heart dropping to your stomach as young-il and 456 lay there, as if dead, along with 390 and 388. you almost rush out to check on them, but young-il's previous words hold you back. you watch as the guards start putting those devices to the dead bodies' ears, and when they reach your team members, 456 suddenly attacks. the rest of the team similarly manages to take their guns away, and kill the remaining guards. you almost jump out of your skin as a firing match starts— and young-il and player 120 skillfully kill most of them. you look on with bated breath, flinching as the guards fall to the floors. you begin to get out from under the bed, panting. one of the guards was still hiding, and he immediately aimed the gun at you. before you could move, young-il shoots him dead.

you look around the room, swallowing the lump in your throat at the sight of all the dead bodies. so many people with hopes and dreams. people with families, laying there, lifeless. cautiously, you looked around with purpose, before your eyes fell on player 380's body.

she couldn't hide.

you look away, sweat rolling down the side of your head. you clench your jaw and glare at the other team, eyes narrowing with resentment as you catch sight of nam-gyu. swallowing hard, you walk past the bodies, careful not to step on them. your eyes fell on your team members gathering the guards' weapons.

so this was the plan. you frown, rushing forward to help them. the guns are heavy, but you manage to place many of them along with some ammo on the bedsheet laying there.

456 announces the plan— something about capturing the ones who captured them all, and going to their headquarters to make them pay. you shift your gaze to young-il, who stares ahead blankly, as if thinking hard. you wonder if he's scared.

"anyone who knows how to use guns and wishes to join us—" 456 calls out, "please step forward!"

the players are silent, frozen. cowards, you think to yourself. you step forward immediately, and young-il's face hardens so dramatically, it almost makes you laugh. he takes a step towards you, "absolutely not!" he snaps, "stay right there."

"you need all the help you can get!" you argue back sharply. you point an accusatory finger at player 100 and his team. "don't you see? even these so called tough guys aren't willing to go with you! don't put your trust in these people, i can help more than they can! my aim's great!"

while you talk, young-il pinches the bridge of his nose, calls your name again gruffly. a warning.

"don't drag us into this!" player 100 interrupts angrily, his lip curling with disgust. "this is madness! you don't stand a chance against them!"

you quite literally snarl as you rush towards him, jabbing a finger to his chest. it makes him stumble backwards, "you had no issue with risking our lives and your own for money, but standing up to those who caught you is where you draw the line?" you glower at him, scoff at the rest of his team. to emphasize your point, you gather saliva in your mouth, spit it by his shoe. "fucking pussy !"

young-il quite literally snatches you away by the collar of your jacket before the other team can do anything. it's a little baffling how swiftly he moves, even while carrying such a big gun. he takes you to your side of the bunker, shoves you onto the bed, "don't make me tie you up." he grunts threateningly, "you are not going and that's final. you're built like a bird, you won't stand a chance against armed guards. i refuse to watch you get killed."

456 calls out for you, voice soft but urgent, "it's best if you stay here. we won't be able to focus if he's— if we're worried about you."

you grit your teeth as you scowl at young-il with glassy eyes. they're tears of anger. you want to scream at him. you want to pull him towards you and never let him go. you look at your team, watch with longing as player 120 guides them on how to use their guns. she's brave and badass, it makes you want to be like her.

"and you're okay with getting killed?" you drift your attention back to young-il, voice cracking. "what am i supposed to do if something happens to you?"

young-il sighs, gaze softening as he kneels before you . your lips wobble as you glare daggers at him, eyes narrowed. he shakes his head, "i'll come back to you alive."

you scoff bitterly. "how can you be so sure?"

"i just am."

"promise me." you hold your pinky up, clenching your jaw as you stare at him intensely, "promise me you won't die. promise me you'll come back for me."

he looks at your pinky, and then at you. you've always found him harder to read than other people. but you see reluctance in his eyes. he sighs, before raising his own pinky, joining it with yours. the contrast between your hands would've been comical if you were not in this shithole. he gives you a smile that doesn't reach his eyes.

"i promise."

you can hear player 100 yelling at his team, clearly talking shit about you. you look over young-il's shoulder, and he glances at the old man too before turning to you knowingly.

"don't get in any trouble while i'm gone." he whispers softly. he reaches behind his back. "and just in case— i want you to have this."

it's a pistol. he probably took it from one of the dead guards. your eyes widen and you look at young-il. he teaches you how to unload it, and reload it, and how to work the safety, before placing it in your palm. your gaze never leaves his face. questioning.

"you've made enemies here," he explains, as if it's obvious, "if any of the men there try anything—"

"you want me to kill them?" you quirk an eyebrow.

his mouth curls into a smirk, "i want you to be safe."

he gets up, and as player 100 looks at you again, you jokingly aim the gun towards him. he jumps back in fear, stumbling into the younger men at his side. you chuckle, and young-il lowers your hand. "behave."

it makes your heart jump.

"why does that kid get a gun and we don't?!" one of the younger men yells. young-il ignores him.

you grin at him almost childishly. he shakes his head before addressing 149— the old lady who got here with her son.

"don't let her leave," he tells her, giving you a stern, sidelong glance. you roll your eyes.

before he can leave, you grab his hand and look at him intensely. you can only hope your eyes can convey what you can't verbally, not in front of people. for his sake.

"be careful." you decide to say, voice cracking. you memorize every feature of his face, with only one thought in your mind.

you're not allowed to leave me.

he nods, looking away before walking to his team. you yell at them too, telling them to be careful and watch as they carefully exit. you look on with longing as you watch them go, before glancing down at the gun in your hand, and then at the door again. soon enough, you can hear the faint sounds of guns firing. it makes you jump, but player 149 puts a hand on your shoulder, comfortingly guiding you to sit beside her.

you almost contemplate rushing out, what would these people even do? stop you? you have a gun in your hand, although you wouldn't want to pull it on 149. she's a good lady. people are already scared. you don't want to make it worse.

so you stay, and hope that young-il keeps his promise. pinky promises are sacred. you either keep them, or you die.

you decide that if he dies, you'll just bring him back to life somehow and kill him again.

you don't remember how long you wait. multiple times, you stand up and pace around the room. agitated, scared. every gunshot has you looking at the door again and again, hoping that somehow young-il will decide to burst through it. 149 tells you to be calm, tries to distract you with your life outside the games. it doesn't work.

thankfully, the pistol in your hand had scared the other team enough to not try anything with you. they talk within themselves, trying to busy themselves with conversations and anxiously bouncing their legs as they look at the ceiling. you wonder how they can be so calm after killing your team.

"you people are cowards." you say to no one in particular. the message hits the target though, because the ones who weren't willing to go and help shift uncomfortably.

"you'd rather die losing to a stupid game instead of a noble death trying to help people," you chide, chuckling bitterly. 149 tries to stop you from talking, but you shrug her words off with a shake of your head. you stand up and face the other team again. "it's shameful. you had no problem killing others who were in the same position as you, but your oppressors is where you decide to stop?" you gesture towards the dead bodies. the sight of blood doesn't make you squeamish anymore. it just makes you sad.

"these people died because you wanted to keep playing." you hiss, "you killed them."

the people on the other side don't respond, instead lowering their gaze to the floor. you look at nam-gyu sitting on the side, fiddling with something. you want to kill him. you want to kill everyone who stopped you from going home, who became the reason more innocent people died. your morals are a bit fucked, you think, but you're okay with it. people who do bad things deserve to die. you raise the gun, aim it at player 100. he flinches, and sits straight up, raising his hands. his team members shuffle away from him, and it makes you snicker. when he's on death's door, they abandon him. "have you gone crazy!?"

"game or no game, you were meant to die." you clench your jaw, your mouth twitching. "shall i kill you, old man?"

you don't get to pull the trigger. you're interrupted by player 388 rushing inside, panicked and covered in blood. your eyes widen, and you go straight to him, grabbing his shoulders. he looks shaken up, "what happened? where's 001? is he okay? did you find—"

"gather all the remaining ammo," he says shakily, fumbling over his words, "we ran out. i need to take some back."

you nod, and 149's son comes to help you check the dead guards' gear and gather the remaining ammunition. 388 wraps it up in a jacket, and rushes to the door, before suddenly stopping. you pause, looking at him, sweat breaking out across your skin. there's a bad feeling in your stomach. "what's wrong? aren't you going?"

he doesn't respond. you can't see his face because his back is turned to you. a moment passes and you step forward cautiously. he drops the walkie talkie, and your eyes fall to the floor where it lands— where you can hear the voice of player 120 asking where he is. they have no ammo.

"i can't do it." 388 whispers, shaking. he rushes back to his bed, drops the little makeshift bag full of ammo and cowers into himself. your eyes widen. you look at the walkie talkie, and back to him. if they don't get ammo soon, they're going to die. you rush to the bed, shoot 388 a frown— you consider comforting him, but you have another priority now. you grab the bundle and turn to leave.

149 runs after you along with a few others, pulling you by the sleeve of your jacket. she's trembling with worry. "your father told me not to let you leave—"

amidst the chaos, you let out a chuckle.

"he's not my father," you reply, yanking your jacket from her grip and composing yourself. the sentence would've had you cackling in a better situation. you can't wait to tell young-il about it. you can understand why she'd think so, even though you and young-il look literally nothing alike. the opposite, really. he's like a father in spirit.

your face hardens and you address the crowd. "they need help. is anyone gonna come with me?”

nobody moves. you scoff bitterly. predictable.

149 looks at you helplessly, pushes her son to grab you. when he advances towards you, you pull out the gun and hold it to his head, eyes crazed as you pull the safety. you warn him dangerously, "step back."

he raises his hands and steps back, lowering his gaze. holding the bundle to your chest, you walk backwards, aiming the gun to both sides of the room and ensuring no one grabs you. you look at 149, meet her crushed gaze and mouth an 'im sorry' to her before running out as fast as you can.

you're quite sure you got lost. you're running as fast as you can, trying to follow the sounds of the gunshots, and looking for any bullet holes or signs of struggle. you look up and see broken cameras, and recall 120 shooting them back in the hall. you follow them until one of the red guards encounters you, immediately raising his gun. he's slow, infuriatingly so— but it doesn't matter because in your panicked haze, you shoot him in the stomach, then rush forward and kick his gun away before running off.

you can see your team. you let out a breath of relief, and as soon as 120 meets your gaze, she gasps. you shake your head and quickly slide over to her, giving her the rest of the ammunition. she quickly reloads, and you toss the rest to the other players, before looking around frantically, flinching at the gunshots. "where's 001 and 456?" you ask her.

"control room!" she points towards the end of the hallway, and you nod before advancing. she tries to protest but you're quicker, and she's preoccupied with firing. luckily, the guards never seem to fire at you.

there are two sides. you hesitate, before finally taking the left one where you just heard two gunshots. you quickly rush forward, pistol held protectively. the whole area looks like some sort of purple maze, and you're wary as you walk, scared that a guard might jump out and shoot you.

finally, you see your young-il's back. he's crouching on the floor, looking at a dying player. the relief you feel is baffling. your eyes widen, and you call out his name. "young-il sir!"

he tenses, turning back so fast that you worry he'd get a whiplash. visibly stressed, he rushes towards you, shaking his head, "no— no, no, no, no, no, what are you doing here!”

you run towards him, almost tripping on the stairs. he grabs your shoulders, shakes you aggressively, "i told you not to fucking leave!"

you almost flinch at his tone. it's strange to see him swear. you answer him shakily, panting, "they— they ran out of ammo, i couldn't leave you!"

he looks upset and shaken up, clenching his jaw as he pinches the bridge of his nose, mumbling incoherently to himself. you turn towards the dying player, your expression pained. he tries to point at something, but you don't understand what. you kneel towards him, and his hand falls down. his croaking stops.

suddenly, you hear the footsteps of guards heading towards you. before you can move, you're surrounded. you hold onto your gun, shaking as you quickly stand up. you swallow hard, unblinking as they aim their guns at you.

that’s when you notice it.

they're aiming at only you, and not young-il. it makes you feel strange.

you look at him, and he's taking sharp breaths, as if trying to compose himself. or trying not to scream with rage. it's odd, how relaxed he looks. tense in the face, but relaxed in the way that he didn't take an offensive stance, or feel surprised at the sight of the guards. you frown in confusion, before he flicks his hand. the guards lower their guns.

you blink a few times, swallowing the lump in your throat, dread settling in your stomach. you look at the guards, then at young-il, who refuses to meet your gaze. you repeat the action.

guards. young-il. guards. young-il. then the players on the floor. then back at young-il's face. and it takes you a moment, but the realization sets in.

the guard letting you go to the restroom when young-il was by your side, him conveniently appearing to save you when you went exploring, him walking with that air of authority. how the guards never seemed to look at him too long. how easily he killed the man during mingle without a second thought. how one look from him had the guard lowering his gun during voting. how he was sure he wouldn't die. things that you never should've looked over.

you step back, your breathing getting ragged as you slowly raise your gun towards young-il. the guards point their guns at you again, ready to shoot. he stops them by raising his hand in warning. he clenches his jaw, his eyes unreadable and guarded.

"who are you." you demand tightly. your voice shakes pathetically, it makes you wince. you've never been this scared of anything in your life. not even the games.

"it doesn't have to be this way." he says quietly. his voice seems different, deeper. gravely. he holds his hand out to you in what he hopes is a comforting fashion. "put the gun down."

you step back, putting your finger on the trigger, just the way he taught you. ‘i want you to be safe,’ he'd said.

"i asked you a fucking question!" you yell, voice cracking. your gun feels slippery in your hands. it almost falls. you fumble trying to keep a tight grip on it. all this time, the prospect of death felt a little comforting with the idea that you'd have young-il by your side if it happened. but now, it just terrifies you. it looks bleak.

you sniffle, lips wobbling as fresh tears roll down your cheeks. you were always fucking unlucky. the first time you like a man this much, he turns out to be the bad guy. you feel utterly pathetic and terrified.

his eyes dart all over your panicked face before he gestures towards one of the guards, who raises his gun. there's a flash of guilt in his eyes that you can't miss. it makes your blood freeze. you refuse to die alone.

you straighten your aim towards young-il and pull the trigger. two gunshots ring out, and you don't get the time to react before something stings your chest, and you fall to the ground.

your vision goes black.

there are no dreams, no last memories. no flashes of your life. there's this heaviness in your chest, like someone is suffocating you.

you wake up with a startled gasp, sitting up immediately. your vision looks blurry, but with a few blinks you can make out a room. a lavish room with a closed window on the side. you frown in confusion, before putting your hand to your chest. there's no bleeding, no pain except the one in your muscles.

you swallow hard, your throat feeling dry. for a moment you wonder if it was all a dream, but when you try to move, you realize your right hand is chained to the side of the bed— with those strong black straps with locks that they used in the second game. you pull at it a few times, breathing getting heavy as you look down on yourself. your bloodied green jersey has been replaced by a comfortable pair of pink pyjamas that cover your arms and legs. you raise your hand to your head, and there's a small bandage on the right side of your face that you remember previously scratching in the bathroom.

you struggle a little, try to look for a way to unlock the straps, but it's like the room is purposely empty. absolutely no sharp or heavy objects to help you escape. like a prison cell.

you think of young-il. is he dead? you remember pulling the trigger. you knew the risk that came with aiming the gun at him when you were surrounded by guards— you just had this thought that if you were going to die, you would drag him with you. he won't get to live after what he'd done.

you don't get to brood about your thoughts for long, because the door opens and he steps inside— a man dressed in black, with a creepy mask. it makes you feel uneasy. you touch your chest again, look at him with a questioning gaze.

“it was just a tranquilizer.” he answers your silent question, voice distorted through the mask.

“is this really necessary?” you ask dryly, rattling the chain on your right hand.

“do you feel comfortable?” the man asks, gesturing towards your clothes.

you grit your teeth, “cut the bullshit. who are you?”

the man sighs, looking down, as if disappointed. he looks at you again before taking off the mask, and you feel like throwing up.

his hair looks different — slicked back with gel. his eyes look tired, even more so than back at the games. he looks more intimidating this way. you feel a strong urge to leap across the bed and ruffle his hair so he can look familiar again.

you have so much to say.

why did you do this? who the fuck are you? how are you still here, when i so clearly remember shooting you?

“you're alive,” you instead remark dryly. young-il gives you a smile that doesn't reach his eyes.

“your aim needs more practice,” he says quietly, patting his right shoulder. “barely grazed me.”

the idea of having hurt him almost makes your chest ache, but you remind yourself of who he is.

you sniffle, lips wobbling as you look at him. your dear young-il. who comforted you, protected you, held you and kissed you so dearly. he really made a fucking fool out of you.

“and what's all that for?” you tilt your head towards his hand. trying to put on a mask, just like him. a brave face.

he places the mask on the table, walks over to sit on the side of the bed. you flinch, moving away from him slightly.

he notices, and it hurts more than getting shot. he doesn't dare reveal that on his face.

“is your name even young-il?” you ask quietly, voice strained.

he shakes his head. you snort bitterly.

“i'm guessing you're the big boss then.” you remark flatly, looking around the room. forcing yourself to appear nonchalant. he wants to tell you to drop the act, because he can still hear your voice faltering.

he nods, “something like that. i design the games.”

you bite down on your lower lip to stop it from wobbling. nobody knows the strength it takes trying not to cry. you lower your gaze to your lap.

your next question is pathetic. you would expect yourself to scream and threaten him to let you go, but there's only one thing on your mind.

“was i a game to you too?” you ask quietly. you don't want to know the answer. perhaps you would've preferred it if he killed you.

he sighs, averting his gaze. he utters your name softly, and you feel like a weak woman because you still like the way he says it.

your voice almost waivers when you ask, “are you going to hurt me?”

he looks at you, blinks a few times before answering honestly. “don't make me.”

you hold back the urge to sob. your left hand comes up to clap over your mouth, and he looks away as you cower in on yourself. how can he say that, after covering your eyes and pulling you into him to ensure you didn't get scared by people getting killed? you wish there was atleast a lamp on the side table, maybe you could've cracked his skull to free yourself from this fear. and to take revenge for playing with your heart.

“you ruined everything.” he admits, voice growing tight. solemn. he clenches his jaw, mouth twitching with barely disguised anger. “i went into the games because of gi-hun, to make sure he doesn't stop the game. and then ended up paying more attention to you than him.”

you release a shaky breath, pulling your knees to your chest. your mouth twists with emotion. gi-hun. player 456. your eyes widen, heart leaping out of your throat.

“is he okay?” you ask, voice cracking with concern, “is he alive?”

his head snaps up— gaze hardening almost dramatically. his eye twitches, and he gives you a tight smile. it doesn't suit him because it's not the one you're familiar with. “are you worried about him?”

you glare at him, eyes narrowing.

“he’ll be fine.” he adds nonchalantly. his voice sounds different— cold in a way that makes goosebumps rise on your skin. “would you rather be with him than me?”

you snort bitterly, looking away with a roll of your eyes. he can't be fucking serious. he has the audacity to be jealous after what he's done to you. he is so unbelievably ridiculous.

“put me back in the game.” you hiss through gritted teeth.

“i can't do that.” he shakes his head, “you will die in there. you won't survive the next games. i made sure they get increasingly difficult—”

“i'll win!” you argue, “i’ll beat them all and win, stop treating me like a fucking child—”

“you are a fucking child compared to me!” he bellows, making you flinch. your gaze never falters as you grit your teeth, looking at him with all the rage you can muster. he grabs your jaw, squishing your cheeks so hard that your lips pucker. he would've kissed you if he wasn't so fucking angry. his voice is harsh as he continues, shaking your head. “you! are quite literally a baby compared to me and the others in there. they're ruthless animals who won't hesitate to rip you apart to win. you're going to die in there and i wouldn't be there to save you!”

his words have your stomach churning, because he's right. but that doesn't matter to you.

“since when do you care?!” you snap challengingly. your words come out muffled.

he glares back at you, his nostrils flaring with anger, “i wish i didn't care.” he hisses, voice low. hoarse. he leans towards you. “oh how desperately i wish i didn't care about you.”

your heart begins to race as you stare at him, dumbfounded, unable to speak. he looks into your eyes, then glances down at your lips, before making eye contact again. he lets go of your face and straightens up, composing himself.

“you almost ruined my entire plan.” his voice is collected, almost guarded. “you consume my every waking thought ever since i felt your head against my chest. do you know how many times i had to warn my guards not to shoot you? especially with how many times you kept crossing the line?”

your breath hitches, and you open your mouth to argue. he doesn't give you a moment to speak.

“i'm not sending you back in the games where you can die.” he continues darkly. he brings his hand to tuck your hair behind your ear. the action is gentle— a stark contrast against what he previously did. the situation you're in, the kind of man he is. you blink at him, eyes teary. his gaze softens just slightly. “you made me promise not to abandon you. I don't plan to.”

“you're a sick man,” you whisper. you can't believe he's holding that against you— your promises from when he was deceiving you, “you designed those fucking games. you can stop them anytime you wanted. i got stuck here because of you, you killed all those innocent people. you're a sadistic, psychotic asshole—”

he shoots you a warning glare, pressing his hand against your mouth. “don’t test me, brat. ”

you sniffle, letting out a pained whimper. you push his hand off your mouth, “let me go.”

he looks unamused, “i can't do that.”

“were you not planning to leave me?” you try to reason with him, desperate. “when you left with the rest of the team? you wouldn't have come back after that—”

“i would've found a way to get you home.” he admits quietly. “i had a plan. but then you came running after me like the brat you are. you never listen.”

“then let me go now!” you protest heatedly. his words have your heart hurting. if that's true, then you're the one who sealed your fate. another impulsive decision ruined your life. “i told you about me. i told you about my mom! i miss her. she and my sister—" you almost choke on a sob as you croak the words out, the mere thought of them driving you to insanity, "they need me."

“i've settled your father's debt,” he mentions after a moment of silence, looking deeply into your eyes. he hopes it gives you some comfort, stops you from wanting to leave him. “you don't have to go back. they'll live a life of ease.”

your blood runs cold. that means he knows where they are.

“do you expect me to fucking thank you?” you can't hold back the tears rolling down your cheeks, shaking your head, “i wanna go home.” you sniffle, “you ruined our lives. you played with my feelings and my life. people are dead because of you. how can you say you'd have let me go home one moment, and then refuse it the next?”

"don't hurt them," you speak again, leaning forward almost pleadingly. perhaps you shouldn't piss him off. you're not the kind to beg for your life. but your family? now that's another thing. "please keep them out of this. dont hurt them, please."

"i won't," he says airily, his dark eyes deeply boring into yours, "not if you don't give me a reason to. just be good."

you sniffle, violently trembling. be good. you'll be good. for your family's sake.

his hands cup your face and you flinch. his thumbs brush the tears away. you avert your gaze. you can't meet his eyes— you resent him.

you resent yourself because his touch still makes you feel an odd sense of comfort.

"this is torture," you choke out, "why are you doing this to me?"

he says your name softly, guides your face up to look at him, “i’m selfish.” he admits. “the moments i spent with you.. was the happiest i've been in a… long, long time. i'm not ready to let go of that. ever. ”

he has lost everything. his wife, his baby. his brother. his humanity. only now he has control over his life, enough resources. he can change fate with a flick of his finger. he's not going to lose you, not after you've made him feel human again, for the first time in years. you've ripped open his ribcage and climbed inside, sealed it shut with your touch. he hasn't been needed by anyone like this— it gives him a sense of purpose. he doesn't trust himself to not lose his mind if you're ever out of his sight. he'll make sure you're by his side, where he can hold you and comfort you. whatever it takes.

you shake your head, lips wobbling. you try to pull away, your free hand coming up to hold onto his, to pry it off your face. he doesn't let up, instead climbing towards you and invading your personal space as he presses your foreheads together.

“i don't know about you kids, but in my time, pinky promises were a big deal,” he says lowly, the side of his mouth quirking up. he's trying to joke, he wants to see you smile again. the way you did when you looked at him— with stars in your eyes. like he's your hero. nothing else has ever made him feel more alive. “i’m afraid i can't let you go.”

you let out a shudder, squeezing your eyes shut as he pushes you till your back collides with the bed. you shake your head, voice tired. “just kill me.”

his face drops, and he looks at you coldly, “you think i'd have you here like this if i planned to kill you?”

you don't respond to that, your chest heaving. everything hurts. your head is pounding, and you feel faint.

his thumb brushes across your cheekbone. he looks at you tenderly, analyzing every feature of your face.

“you know, i really expected you to struggle harder against me.” he observes. the words make you feel embarrassed. your skin heats up with shame, and you clear your throat, looking anywhere but him.

he might be right, you think. you've struggled a little, yes, but he can tell you have the ability to be so much more insufferable. but you're not, not yet. it's fucked up. because even after everything, for some reason you can't seem to brush him off you. you can't seem to let go of the comfort and hope he provided you in one of the most terrifying moments of your life.

you convince yourself it's because your family's life is on the line. not because of your personal feelings.

you don't answer him. you don't have to either, because judging by the small smirk creeping on his face, he knows.

“i'll take care of you,” his face softens. he's trying to convince you. there's a desperate edge to his voice. you look so utterly beautiful to him— your complexion glowing even more because of the pink pyjamas he got for you. in that moment he makes a mental note of what color clothes he'd shower you in the most. “those people down there that you're so desperate to save? they would've thrown you under the bus to win. they don't care about you. i'll make sure you're safe. the life you were living before was worthless. let me look after you.”

“i hate you,” you whisper, voice cracking. another tear rolls down your cheek, and he wipes it away. you don't mean it. he presses a soft kiss to your forehead.

“i know.”

you don't get to speak again, because he tilts your head up and crashes his mouth onto yours in a bruising, punishing kiss. it makes you wince, and you choke on a soft sob. against your better judgement, you kiss him back.

the moment your mouth parts under his, he takes the chance to deepen the kiss, his tongue sliding in. he moans into your mouth, holding your face as he climbs over you completely. you contemplate biting his tongue off, but you don't. as if reading your mind, his hand comes down to gently squeeze your throat— just enough to make you feel a little lightheaded. you gasp softly, eyes blinking dazedly at him. he pulls his mouth away, then places a soft peck upon your lips. then another. and another. you take greedy breaths as you squirm under him. his hand leaves your throat and slips under your top and you jolt at the feeling of his warm hands against your tummy. his mouth trails down, leaving soft kisses across the smooth skin of your neck.

“you’re sick.” you gasp shakily, throwing your head back, giving him more room to place his wet kisses upon you.

“you're the one letting a man like me touch you,” he whispers hoarsely against your neck, voice slightly teasing. “maybe you're just as sick as i am.”

his words make you shiver. you consider them, and you force yourself to think of all the people back there in the hall, ready to march to their deaths tomorrow. your eyes open and you snap out of your trance.

you use your free hand to push slightly at his chest, gaze pleading, “don't kill them,” you whisper. “let them go. atleast our team. they're good people—”

“are you really doing this?” the switch in his voice has you quivering slightly. his hand comes up, grabs your hair. it stings just slightly. a warning. "do you think they would've been this desperate to save you?"

you let out a noise of protest, looking at him helplessly. trying to touch a string of empathy within him. he has none, not anymore.

“they knew what they were getting themselves into. there's no favoritism. you either win, or die.”

your ears ring, heart pounding against your chest. “then what am i?”

he smirks, his thumb brushing across your bottom lip.

“you're my little girl.” he noses the side of your neck. goosebumps rise on your skin, “don't bring that up again.”

you grit your teeth, feeling even more remorseful. is there no way to change his mind? even being responsive to his affection doesn't help.

but you're not being docile to change his mind.

you realize you're pliant because you like being under him.

your logical side forces you to speak. your guilty conscience doesn't allow you to get too comfortable under a killer. "this feels wrong."

he stops, clenches his jaw with restrained anger. he squeezes his eyes shut, mentally counts from 1-10 to avoid doing anything he might regret later.

"let me make you an offer," he pulls back, cocking his head to the side. his eyes are unreadable, voice flat, "i'll let them go on one condition."

your eyes widen with hope, and you nod enthusiastically, eager for him to speak.

"with every player i leave alive—" a small smirk appears on his face, despite his best efforts to hide it. "i'll kill someone you love."

the way terror seized you was suffocating. your throat immediately felt dry, eyes widening with shock. you stared at him, motionless, images of your family, your friends, flashing through your head. his hand gently splayed across your stomach, pressing down a little.

"a life for a life." he announced again, giving you a tight lipped smile, "how does that sound?"

"no." you warned, clasping his wrist desperately with your free hand, breathing rapidly. "no— no. please don't. i'll— i'll stay with you. i'll do anything you say, just—" you held back a sob, "please don't hurt them."

in life threatening situations— people only look out for two types of people. themselves, and the ones dearest to them.

he smiled fully then, amused. predictable, he thinks, before leaning back down, "then conversation's over."

"you made the right choice," he whispered. you didn't bother struggling, squeezing your eyes shut. his hand pulls down your top just enough. his mouth quite literally waters as he bites down on your exposed skin, leaving cherry red bruises across your collarbones.

you have no choice, you tell yourself. it's okay to get comfortable now. you couldn't have done anything.

you mewl, and he slips two of his fingers in your mouth, watching intently with a hungry gaze as you suck on them enthusiastically— just like back in the hall. your eyes flutter, and you mumble incoherently as his fingers gently thrust in and out of your mouth, pressing down on your tongue. it’s messy and sloppy, and the sight of your saliva slipping down your chin makes him moan softly, “my pretty baby.”

you whimper as his hand slides down to your bottoms. you wait with bated breath as you look at him with hazy eyes. his hand slips down into your panties, and a desperate moan escapes your bruised lips.

“i just want to ruin you,” he chuckles breathlessly, teasing your entrance. he hovers over you, looks at you like a starving man as he pinches your clit. you yelp slightly. he taunts you, gaze full of faux innocence as he raises his eyebrows. “does it hurt, huh, sweetheart? do you want daddy to make you feel good?”

“oh fuck—” the moment that word comes out of his mouth, in his soft, breathy voice— you moan. you're pathetic. it's whiney and high pitched and so utterly desperate, it makes him proud to get a reaction like that out of you. and suddenly he understands a little more why you got so attached to him. he pecks your lips again, and smirks against your mouth. he teases your entrance with a single finger.

you whine, “please.”

“what did you say, hm?” he pretends not to hear you, pushing two fingers in. you've never been brave enough to use two even while masturbating— and his are long and thick. the stretch makes you wince. “come on, baby, tell your old man what you said.”

you try to capture his lips with yours again in hopes that he would stop teasing you. he chuckles breathlessly, then lets out a soft moan at the way your walls clench around him.

“i’m a sadistic, psychotic asshole, right?” he throws your words back at you, and you wince. you squeeze your eyes shut, bite down on your lips to hold back a needy whine. his fingers pull back and then thrust again, curling slightly. his thumb goes to your clit, rubbing it. you take a sharp breath, squirming on the bed as you moan again. he doesn't let up, “is that not what you called me? and now you want me to make you feel good?”

his voice grows serious again, face hardening. his motions stop. “apologize.”

your eyes snap open, and you look at him, surprised. “huh?”

“apologize,” he repeats, “for everything you said earlier. and i'll consider making you cum.”

that gets you to clench your jaw. you glare at him with narrowed eyes, chest heaving with frustration. but you won't do it. if anyone should be apologizing— it's him. he was the one who deceived you and ruined your life. and he hasn't apologized even once. he must think you're stupid. hell would freeze over before you apologize.

you almost reconsider your decision— but then again, his threat only stands if he leaves the players alive. he didn't say anything about language. you shake your head, your previous stubbornness taking over. “not a chance in hell.”

he snorts, looking at you, unamused. his facial expressions don't change, but you can see it in his eyes. little things like a twitch give him away. your heart drops as he pulls his hand out completely, his fingers glistening and wet. he brings them to his mouth, sucks the juices off so casually that it leaves you dumbfounded and flustered.

“i have no patience for brats.” he nods, standing up. you stutter over your words, mouth opening and closing like a fish. much like it did when you first met.

“b-but—”

“i have some work to do.” he announces coldly. you wonder if he's going to do something bad. he's having the time of his life, sexually and emotionally tormenting you. “i'll be back in a bit. i asked the guards to bring you some chocolate milk. feel free to tell them your favourite food for dinner.”

the sudden change in events has you so unbelievably baffled that you can't say a thing as he begins to leave. it's brutal, and it almost makes you want to cry.

“sir?” you call out softly, almost timidly. unsure of how to address him. you're not going to take a risk.

he stops midway, before sighing to himself. he turns to you, looks at the desperation in your eyes.

“inho is fine.” he remarks flatly, swallowing hard. he doesn't know why he decided to reveal his name to you.

perhaps because it would give him another excuse to not let go of you.

you keep looking at him, a devastated expression on your face. like you're dying inside. and maybe you are.

your only source of comfort is gone. you'd gotten too used to it in the past few days. now you wish you'd never met him.

the emotion on his face is unreadable as he walks back to you. he places a soft kiss to your forehead and turns to leave. you grab his hand. the prospect of being alone leaves you terrified. maybe if you can convince him to stay, be good for him, he wouldn't hurt your loved ones. you'll behave.

you start to miss how things used to be.

if things were different, he would have come back to you. he would smile as he walked through the door, and you would finally feel your heart pumping blood as you run to him. he'd drop his gun and hold you, and you'd cry into his chest. he'd ask you if you caused any trouble, and you would take him to your bed and tell him everything. you would tell him that 149 called him your father, and he would laugh— his old man laugh which sounds so sweet and makes his eyes crinkle. he would ruffle your hair and say something along the lines of, ‘with how many times i've saved your ass, i might as well be.’

from a younger age, all you've ever desired is comfort, something you never received. someone to hold you when you cry, to take care of you. protect you. you're sick of being the tough one. the mere idea of it was so far away for you, that the first show of affection and reassurance had you getting this terribly attached. perhaps, inho's biggest crime was taking that away from you.

“inho.” you whisper, visibly crushed. you don't even feel horny anymore. you just miss his comfort, his soft words of reassurance. his laugh. your eyes grow teary. “please don't leave me.”

he looks at you, contemplating. he sighs defeatedly, before grasping your hand properly. it's so warm, and you choke on a soft sob as the reality of your situation sinks in again. you're done for. there's no escape. you're alone, and there's no one to save you. your young-il will not come swooping in to protect you, because he was never there in the first place. you don't even realize when you break down into heartbreaking sobs, breathing ragged.

he isn't used to showing much physical affection. not after what he went through, not until you. and now with you like this, something softens within him. he sits back down on the bed, wordlessly leaning into you, his arms open. you feel utterly pathetic at how quickly you crawl into his lap, burying your face in his chest. you feel like you're betraying your team, but do you have a choice? perhaps you did. you could've chosen to be tough and refuse his affection. but the stakes are different now. your family's life is on the line.

you never stood a chance, not after you met him.

and you don't want to think of a single instance where you don't get to experience being held by him.

your morals are more fucked than you thought. even after all the threats, after him practically forcing you to stay, you can't help but desire his affection. you'll be selfish for once. what could you have done anyway? you would've died in there, and your family would be alone. if what he said is true, atleast now they can live a life of ease without any debts.

as for your team, 456 will look out for them. he's alive, afterall.

you force your mind to be silent.

“i miss you,” you wail painfully, your free hand clutching the fabric of his shirt.

he holds you like a child, a hand pressing your head close, the other wrapping around your waist. he shushes you gently, pressing a soft kiss to your temple. he doesn't regret anything he did. you'd made him promise to come back for you, afterall. he always keeps his word. “i'm right here.”

you lean into his neck, and breathe in the smell of him. you squeeze your eyes shut till your sobs die down into the occasional hiccup. the stretch of your right hand and the rattling of the chains is another reminder of where you are.

perhaps if you stay hidden against his chest, you can try to convince yourself it's still your young-il holding you like this.

A/N: so! that's the end of dusk till dawn. this story truly was my joker. i tend to add a lot of psychological elements and character interactions so the fic feels more immersive and realistic, like you're really part of the game. i hope you liked it. can y'all tell who my favourite characters are? lol. also, i'm very horrible with smut so i really tried but i just can't write too much 💔 I'm mostly an angst girl as you can tell. anyways, this was a little self indulgent. thank you so much for the support you guys showed me, it truly means everything! i might write blurbs related to this specific couple from time to time, but no promises! maybe if i get good ideas or requests. anyways i rambled a lot. thank you for reading. feedback is always motivating.

tags: @bonelessghoul @cowuies @auspicious-lilana @politicstanner @verouys @gloriousjellyfisharcade @carolinevoight @shadowmoonlight0604 @ancrygurl @sunoon @jessgentleman @colorwastaken @loversroq @clown-around-and-find-out @popcorm @xcinnamonmalfoyx @robertthehoover @iloveoldermen0204 @kpopsmutty69 @iamkali

[targaryen-dynasty]

DRAGON DREAMS.

Aemond Targaryen x wife!Reader

Monthly nightmares have already plagued you way before your wedding, even though your grandfather has always addressed them as dragon dreams rather than nightmares. But you and your husband both know you’re not gifted with such abilities.

WARNINGS: canon typical incest/targcest (uncle/niece), nightmares, slight angst, fluff

WORDS: 625

NOTES: this was requested by @marthawrites. Hope you still like it! 💕

It’s impossible for you to run.

Your feet are firmly planted on the ground, not moving regardless of you tugging and pulling at them to lift them and escape the brown dragon in front of you. Even your voice catches in your throat, unable to scream when the large mouth of Sheepstealer snaps towards you, the sharp teeth appearing even more intimidating with the light of the moon reflecting from them.

You stir awake, beads of sweat forming along your hairline and in the valley between your breasts. A hand on your mouth is meant to stifle your screams and sobs, not wanting to wake up your husband. Your breathing is heavy, and it takes you a few moments to adjust to the darkness of your chambers as you prop yourself up on your elbows.

Still half asleep, Aemond rolls onto his side and snakes his arm around your waist to pull you into his embrace, your head resting against his chest as his nose nuzzles into your hair.

“Bad dream?” It’s more a statement than a question, because your husband knows the answer. Monthly nightmares have already plagued you way before your wedding, even though your grandfather has always addressed them as dragon dreams rather than nightmares.

But you and Aemond know you’re not gifted with such abilities, it’s just that your mind has a lot to process with the rising tension between both sides of your family.

His presence always works wonders, the warmth radiating off his body and his scent slowing your panicked breathing and the turmoil inside of your mind, allowing you to melt into him.

While Aemond’s hand cups the back of your neck, his fingers apply just a bit of pressure to your stiff muscles in order to release the pent up tension, and you find yourself being able to speak again.

“I—It‘s…,” you stammer, your breathing still causing you to stutter through a sentence. “Sheep…Sheepstealer,” you sigh, “he… he...”

A gentle nod reassures you to continue as you crane your neck to look up at him.

“We wanted to fly to Dragonstone,” you sniff, panic settling in your bones again at just remembering what has happened. “Vhagar was already high up in the sky, when… and when I wanted to mount him, h… he…”

Aemond brings his hand to the back of your head and holds you against his body to calm you down. “He ate you?” he finishes the sentence for you, and you just nod hurriedly, mumbling a ‘yes‘ against his chest.

Most people, including your parents, perceive Aemond as cold and ignorant, and the gods know he can be like that. You have thought that too for the longest time, or rather from the moment he has lost his eye to the moment your courtship has been made official, but you have learned to see the genuine intent behind the things he does, hear the subtle changes in his voice, and suddenly he was just as attentive as any other man around, if not even a bit more.

Aemond kisses the crown of your head before speaking, “Your bond is strong, my love, and you know he would never do that.” And he is right. Even before you’ve bonded with Sheepstealer, the dragon never showed any ill-will toward you. He always was curious, despite the many failed attempts of claiming him other people had tried before.

“Avy jorrāelan,” you mumble. I love you.

“Avy jorrāelan,” comes the reply.

That Aemond’s grip doesn’t loosen around you makes it easier to find sleep again, and while your soft snores already fill his ears, he nuzzles his nose into your hair to take in your scent, thinking about a way to put this misery to an end.

Aemond taglist: @persephonerinyes @dr-aegon @schniiipsel @thekinslayed @baizzhu @legitalicat @eponaartemisa @peachysunrize @blackswxnn @odairtrqsh @mfedits

[kettlefire]

Maybe a Bit High (DpxDC)

Edit: A part 2, Bruce's side of things, is in the reblogs

Really, Danny shouldn't have been there. He had so many other things he should be doing. He wasn't even supposed to in Gotham!

Danny wished he could be safely tucked in bed right now. Or having another fight with his mom. Or dealing with another one of Sam and Tucker's squabbles.

Truly, anything was better than this. Then, being on the run, in a completely different state. Not recognizing anything anywhere and having to somehow find his dad somewhere in this city.

So yes, with Danny's luck, he had assumed the commotion by the docks had something to do with his search.

And of course, with Danny's luck, it had absolutely nothing to do with him.

Maybe things got a little out of hand. Really, Danny wasn't equipped to deal with a drug bust. His experience with crime tends to be of the ghostly nature.

Really, how do people even do these without getting a little bit high?

Was he even high? Could halfas get high? Was the powder he accidentally ingested the drugs? The one he got a giant mouthful of? Or was it the strange purplish liquid that coated like half his body?

Really, Danny wasn't in the frame of mind to try and figure all that out. It sounded more like a Jazz and Sam question.

God, Sam was going to be so bummed out for missing out on Danny's first trip. Not that Danny could even tell her what drugs these were...

Maybe he should go to a hospital?

Or maybe he should mess with this crane. Like, it looks fun! Wait, but people aren't supposed to use heavy machinery when high...

It's fine... probably. It's not like Danny was that high. Right?

Yea, he's fine. Besides, he's a halfa! He's like ninety percent sure he couldn't even get high. And Tucker would be so on board with his idea.

Hold on, the storage units look more fun. Danny couldn't help wanting to find out what was hiding behind all those walls.

Oh, but the sky looks so pretty from here! Even with the city lights and the light smog, Danny could make out the twinkling stars.

Maybe he should go for a fly. Even if he was high, technically, that would be fine, right? Flying is like walking for him. And it's not illegal to walk high! Just to be high...

Okay, okay, a flight it is. It'll atleast keep him away from civilians, and then he'll find his dad. Yes, Danny still needed to do that.

He couldn't lose his objective. He just needed to take a breather, and then track down his dad. Track him down somewhere in this large, bustling city.

It'll be fine, totally fine. Danny was totally not panicking. His current trip was truly not going downhill.

Was he forgetting to breathe? Wait, no, Danny was still Phantom. He didn't need to breathe, he's fine. It's fine...

Unless it wasn't. What if it was all in Danny's head? What if all this halfa stuff was all just a part of his really weird trip? What if he tries to fly and just ends up drowning in the river?

Okay, okay. Focus Danny, focus. He just needed to find his dad. That's it. His dad would know what to do. His dad could fix this.

Oh, and there he is! It was a little hard for Danny to focus his vision, but he knew the silhouette anywhere! It had to be his dad! Jack has such a distinct shadow!

Danny wasn't sure if he called out Dad or not. He also wasn't sure when he had decided to move. Did he fly or did he run?

It didn't matter. His dad knew, anyways. All Danny was focused on was the feeling of hugging his dad again...

And the strange armor his dad was wearing? It must have been something Jack rigged up to protect himself during these dire times...

But god, Danny couldn't tear his focus away from the texture of it under his fingers. Zeroing in on that alone.

It's fine. Even if he was high, Danny could just explain it to Jack. His dad would understand! Danny was just trying to be a good hero. It's not like he was doing drugs for fun!

Besides, being curled up on his dad's shoulders feels too good right now. Whatever that pointy thing on Jack's head was wasn't a big deal. It was something a little intangiblity could fix!

[bi-writes]

still wakes the deep au | soap x f!reader

Installment 2/?: Warning Signs

prompt: You're an environmental scientist conducting research on an off-shore oil rig with only a few days left before you're slated to leave. The eldritch creature they accidentally awaken throws a wrench in the works. masterlist

Being alone feels different when there’s nowhere to run. Every wall looks the same, and the stench of must permeates in every room–the carpet must hold it in. Everything drips; the taste of salt won’t go away, and it makes your eyes dry out every time you close them and open them again. There are other people around you, men that are the cause of the knocks against the rig, but they are as alien as what lies beneath you. Every time you feel as if it’s too foreign, you remind yourself that there is nowhere to go.

The only way out of this place is by doing your job; but even that scares you all of the sudden.

Your bed is lumpy. The mattress feels dry, stiff, and it barely gives as you lay in it. You stare up at the bottom of the top bunk, trying not to think about the sound of sea water pelting your window like a threatening knock while you try to sleep.

Your mind barely gives. You keep the lamp that sits on your makeshift desk turned on. Without it, the black of nothingness from outside bleeds through the walls, and you swear you can see a thousand different shapes that claw their way out of the moonlight towards you. The rig doesn’t shake, but it breathes. It lives, somehow, deep legs connected to the seafloor to keep it from drifting off, from separating, from taking you with it, from suffocating you until your breaths are filled with water and your body is too cold to–

You jump when the lamp bursts. A jolt of electricity shatters the bulb, and you sit up in bed, clutching the sheets as you watch the lamp glow slightly before fizzling out. The room blankets into the dark, and you move shakily off your bed and pat around for your flashlight before clicking it on. The small circle of yellow light doesn’t do what you hoped; instead, it makes the shadows of every object longer and seem further away, and they start to move as your hand shakes, so much so that you cannot tell if something is coming towards you or if your mind is still convincing you of some sort of seasickness. One lodged into your brain, one that doesn’t make you nauseous but makes you paranoid that some hole in the ocean will open up and take you with it.

The thought of drowning is not as terrifying as finding out what lies beneath the surface of the water.

When you used to think of the ocean, it used to soothe you. When you closed your eyes, all you could see was crystal clear blue and tropical fish. You thought about running your fingers through warm water and kicking your feet as you watched dolphins fly beside you. When the sun penetrated the light, it shined until it showed the seafloor, where little creatures burrowed beneath bright sand, making it sparkle.

The ocean you know now is anything like it. You understand what they mean when they say “mother nature,” because only a woman scorned could eat the world the way she does. Waves touching taller than buildings. Animals so large, they would swallow you whole and let the acid of their insides quiet your screams for nutrition. An endless void, reaching miles towards the center of earth, a vast unknown that crushes heavy metals and defies physics the further and further you drop. She’s unforgiving. Mean. A terrifying, wonderful thing, and you are cheating death. You know it. She screams at you from just outside your thin walls, and you are pretending not to hear her. She’s telling you something, but you bury your nose in your books.

If it’s a warning she’s trying to give, you won’t know it until it’s too late.

The rig groans in the middle of the night. You can hear the pipes expanding, the water moving aggressively outside your window, the sounds of cranes and metal creaking that rattle off around you. Your hand shakes a little as you try and find your shoes, slipping them on as you open your door in search of a new source of light.

It’s the middle of the night, but there’s still a skeleton crew around, moving between their night shifts. You make your way down the hall, clicking off your flashlight, and you find yourself in the rec room in search of light bulbs in the utility closet there. You hear the doors swing open behind you, and you try to ignore the rowdy voices of men as you stand on your tiptoes and rummage the hundredth box for what you need. You try not to think about the whisps of something delicate you feel grazing your fingertips (because spiders wouldn’t be this far out from land, right?).

“Looks like ye need a little help, bonnie.”

You startle yourself nearly out of your skin. You trip off the ledge you’re standing on, trying to hold your hands out to brace yourself, but you never hit the ground. Strong hands grip you around the middle, breaking your fall and getting you back onto your feet, nice and steady. You spin around, clutching your flashlight to your chest, panting like an anxious puppy. You can make out his blue eyes even in the dark, bright and seemingly concerned as Soap tries to get a grip on you to keep you from swaying.

“‘S alright, lass, ‘s just me! Soap, it’s Soap.”

You put a hand over your chest, trying to calm your breathing, You shake your head, closing your eyes as you try and repeat the mantra you’ve been telling yourself since you got on this stupid rig.

Your feet are on solid ground. Your feet are on solid ground. Your feet are on solid ground.

“Sorry,” you whisper. “I…”

“What are ye doin’ up?” He asks, clicking his tongue. “‘S the middle of the night! Reckon ye need yer beauty sleep.”

You smile a bit, but it doesn’t reach your eyes. You do it to placate him. Men don’t always respond well to sharp teeth, and you haven’t decided how you feel about this one yet. He’s too comfortable. His hands are still around your arms, thumbs smoothing too easily over the bone of your shoulders. He’s too close; he steps just nearer to you, tongue sliding over that top row of teeth, and you try not to think about the way his pupils dilate at the terrified look on your face, the one your smile cannot hide. When he tilts his head to the side, you think he means to look curious, but you think it closer to prey playing with its food. The curls of his growing mohawk fall over his forehead, drawing a dark shadow over his eyes, and you can no longer try to see what might give him away in his gaze.

“The light in my…room. I need a new one, I–” You shake your head. “It’s stupid, but I just…I can’t sleep.”

“We’ll get ye all right fer bed, love,” Soap chuckles. “What’s broken, ye ken what kind ye need?”

You blink, biting your lip, thinking. He’s still touching you; he still has his hands around your arms, but now they’ve settled around your elbow, calloused fingers curled over where they rest.

“I’m not sure. The lamp on my desk, it’s–”

“Ach, those are hidin’, I’m sure o’ it,” he lets you go, reaching up and hoisting down a few boxes before reaching for what lies behind them. He carries them on his shoulder before dropping them onto the floor, and you try not to think about watching him work. He’s a large man. Strong, that much is evident, but there’s something off. You think his physical appearance hides what lies inside. He’s pretty, in a way that shouldn’t be allowed. Straight teeth, a killer smile, arms that do not give once they’re taut with use. Even the uniform he wears does nothing to hide thicker thighs and a solid middle; but you try not to let it distract you from what really remains. If he wasn’t so gorgeous, you don’t think he’d get away with that tick that must exist in his brain. The one that allows him to crowd your space without much resistance. The one that lets him smile like that, like he’s won something, like he’s gotten what he wanted not because he fought for it, but because it is what he is owed. 

He bends over and picks up a bulb that looks good enough and hands it to you. When he straightens his back, you try to catch that look in his eyes again. Maybe he knows you’re looking for it, and now he’s hiding it. Maybe he’s cooing in his own head about what a clever girl you are and trying to decide how he’ll play his game differently.

“Can walk ye back, put it in fer ye.”

You take it from him, drawing a shaky breath. You want to say no. You want to tell him you can do it all on your own, that you’re fine, but then the closet door swings open, and a group of tired-looking crew stare at the two of you as they snicker and nudge each other.

“Wot ye doin’, Soap, seven minutes in heaven with the fuckin’ feds?”

“Och–shut the fuck up, the lot o’ ye,” Soap bites back. “Just doin’ her fuckin’ job, just like the rest o’ ye, so get the fuck out the way. Middle of the night, bunch of gobshites.”

Soap puts a hand around the small of your back, guiding you past the group and out into the hallway. He follows you wordlessly back to accommodations, stopping in front of your door. Your name isn’t on it, but you don’t comment about how he knew this was yours. He waits for you to open the door for him before following you inside.

“A right mess, luvvie.”

He doesn’t let you help. He kicks your bin under the desk, carefully discarding of the pieces of glass that are scattered across your desk. He grumbles under his breath about it being too sharp and how he will do it better and how he can take care of ye. 

When the lamp clicks back on, it paints the room in that comforting orange light, and you relax as you take a seat on your bed, clutching the sheets to dry your clammy palms. He still invades your space, but somehow, with the light, it dampens the sentiment. He scares you just a little less, but if you give him just that much, how much will he use it to his advantage?

“Ye need anythin’, I’m…just down there,” Soap says finally. He points behind him, down the north end of the hallway, and all you can do is nod. “Don’t listen to the lot, bonnie,” Soap adds. “Bunch o’ old, tired bastards. Mean no harm. But if they do, ye come ta me, ye hear?”

“Uhm…Soap?” You call out as he’s leaving. You don’t know why you stop him. You don’t know why you’re talking to him; you’re certain he’s not a stranger to telling a good lie. He turns to face you, leaning against the doorway, and you clear your throat. No one should look this good on just a few hours of sleep, but he’s still blinking awake, unsettlingly calm. “This place…it’s safe, right? I mean…safe as it ought to be?”

Soap smiles, but it’s not like his other smiles. It feels unnatural. His teeth are duller. Lips drier. Maybe he’s just tired.

“It’s safe, love. Swear it. Got me on those rivets.”

You don’t know why, but when he comes close to you, you let him. You let him touch your face, thick fingers smoothing down your jaw just a little too rough, big thumb along your bottom lip rubbing just a little too hard. You hear his door shut nearby once he goes.

The ocean screams. You can hear her again now that his voice is no longer around. You fall asleep knowing he’s close, and you pretend not to notice her. Just like always.

[mariahcarreyyy]

love ur writing, so deserved!!! ‘shush, we can’t have anyone hearing this,’ + max or oscar… maybe with some overstim?

# prompt no.9, "shush, we can't have anyone hearing this." nsfw 18+ content under beware ⬇️⬇️

mariahcarreyyy's 2k celebration announcement post

The tricky thing with traveling to Australia with your boyfriend to meet his family for two weeks is not having neither the privacy nor time to fuck for two weeks. To shed off each other's clothes, kiss lovingly while Osc pounds into you, heaving breaths flowing out of his mouth when your pussy clenches around his dick like he'd ever fucking pull out now.

So, prior to entering the thick atmosphere of the plane, you and Oscar had devised a plan: you could go down on each other, but actual sex, even quickies, would probably wake up the entire Piastri house and therefore not be allowed. And both of you followed it.

For an impressive total of three days.

To be fair, what were you supposed to do when he sauntered out of the back door in those swim shorts, thigh muscles spilling out and all? Not promptly fly out of the lounge chair by the pool, clasp a tight hand around his pale forearm, and shove him inside the vacant kitchen?

"Y/n, what are you doi—oh," Oscar breathes out as your fingers curl around the hem of his shorts, tugging them down with one swift motion and housing your bottom lip between your teeth when your hand barely covers the base of his half-hard dick. "Oh, fuck, baby, turn 'round f'me, can't be the only one naked, hm? Lemme see you."

Hips swerving, you bend down to rest your forearms on the cool surface of the kitchen counters. Oscar's hand is heavy, cupping the swell of your ass, spreading the cheeks apart, and squeezing the soft flesh; the anticipation thrums loudly in your veins and sends the arousal in your stomach to stir.

You whimper when he pushes your bikini to the side, cupping your drenched pussy, and you can't help yourself when your hips desperately hump against his digits and moan loudly. "Osc, please—fuck, just."

"Shush," Oscar leans, his heated back flush against yours as he mumurs. "Can't have anyone hearing us, can we?"

A pout graces itself on your face; you crane your neck to look at your boyfriend's family, all outside, laughing and chatting livelyly through the large opening on the kitchen wall. Not quite large enough to show what Osc was doing to you, but to allow the obscene sounds to flow through it and into his relatives ears.

He shoves his fingers inside your hot walls, unphased, when your loud yelp catches the attention of one of his aunts, who merely furrows her brow and turns back to her company. "Can. We?" he grits out, each word punctuated with a sharp thrust.

"N-no, no—fuckfuckfuckk, Osc," you cry, burying your head in your hands to unsuccessfully muffle your moans, far too loud for your liking, but the curl of Oscar's lips trailing down your neck tells you he feels otherwise.

"Hm," he says, placing a sweet kiss on your shoulder and trailing his hand up to your lips, nudging two fingers against the soft flesh and grinding his dick against your ass. "But y'can't even do that. D'you want m'cock or not?"

You splutter when he pulls his fingers out of your mouth, just enough for you to reply. "Yes, yesyesyes, 'do I do, miss y'cock so bad, Osc, fuck," you grind back against his fingers and squirm when the coil in your stomach is so close to bursting.

Oscar sucked in a breath when your desperate movements had you consequently humping his dick. Had you two really been foolish enough to believe you could resist each other for two weeks?

[undiscovered-horizon]

"Everywhere is good but home is..." - Mihawk x Reader

@thetempleofthemasaigoddess wondered why Mihawk doesn't quite get along with his mother-in-law and who am I to keep such secrets to myself?

SUMMARY: Mihawk is not exactly fond of his in-laws. Nevertheless, he compliantly tags along whenever you pay your parents a visit. If it makes you happy, he's willing to bite his tongue. For a day, at least.

WORDCOUNT: ~ 2.6k

Enjoying my work? You can leave me a tip on Ko-Fi

Imagine, if you will, an angry boar. A large, stout boar with birse as dark as the night sky. As boars do, it will gore with its tusks to let out the frustration and get rid of whatever it was that made the animal seethe. Now, if you take away its tusks, what can it do? Angrily dig for truffles? 

Or maybe stand beside you, a scowl on his face and a begrudging “I am fine” every time you ask about the bitter expression?

Mihawk doesn’t like visiting your parents. It’s the sickeningly sweet familial atmosphere that suffocates him. Don’t misunderstand - he’s fond of the thought of having a family with you but the aura of your childhood home is a little too… overwhelming for him. A little too picture-perfect. But being the man he is, Mihawk has never outright talked about his dislike because he’s aware of how much that would hurt you. Still, you know your husband a little too well to disregard his sighs and frowns. This piece of secret knowledge always makes you love him more - he’s willing to suffer for a day or two just to make you happy. If it’s not love, what else could it be?

The farmhouse looks different than it did last year when you visited: the roof tiles have been changed, the outside of the building has been repainted and even some of the fence surrounding the land is new. Clearly, your parents have been busy with their retirement.

Despite the irate expression on his face, Mihawk silently overtakes you and opens the shabby wicket gate to let you enter first. He gives you a questioning look when you suddenly stop.

“It’s going to be fine, Mihawk,” you reassure him.

“So you’ve been saying, darling.”

Comforting warmth spreads inside his chest as you smile at him and kiss his cheek. He turns his head, hoping to catch your lips but you’re already on your way to the older man raking leaves in the distance. Mihawk clenches his jaw and lets out an exasperated sigh. With a loud bang, he closes the gate behind him. He follows you in slow steps, naively putting off the fateful moment of meeting your family.

Walking down the path leading to the farmhouse and the fields behind it, Mihawk looks around the desolate landscape. It’s quaint, he thinks to himself. Tall trees sway on the chilly, autumn wind. Right above their peaks, although far away, are mountains with their tops covered in snow. Uncut grass brushes against his clothes. A flock of cranes flies high in the sky, disappearing and reappearing as they fly through grey clouds. Their key is directed south, towards warmth that will shield them from winter snow. The area is a bit too colourful and bright for his liking but with a nice “please” from you, Mihawk could see himself settling down in a place like this.

Dracule just comes into earshot and has the displeasure of hearing your father yelling:

“Pumpkin!” The older man’s voice is filled with excitement. He lets go of the rake, letting it fall on the ground. Despite his age and clear exhaustion from the work, he wraps his arms around you and hugs you almost to death. “Honey, come out!” he shouts towards the farmhouse. “It’s Pumpkin!”

Mihawk almost can’t stop himself from rolling his eyes. You’re a grown woman, married at that, and they still call you by a nickname they had come up with while you were still in diapers. ‘When I asked where children came from, they told me that they found me between pumpkins in their field,’ you once explained to him.

The door to the building flies open. Soon enough, your mother is running to you. Her greying hair is braided into a plait. She’s wearing an apron with traditional patterns hand-stitched into it. Half of the motif had been done by a skilled hand, stitched with precision and perfection. The other part, however, is a lot more crooked and amateurish, probably done by a child’s hand. Your hand.

Tears glisten in your mother's eyes. Despite her older age, there’s vigour and youth inside those irises - a certain love for life that you’ve taken after her. She quickly wipes her hands on the apron and hugs you.

“Oh, Pumpkin!” A stray tear leaves her eye. “I haven’t seen you in ages! You could have said you’re visiting.”

“You’ve always loved surprises, mum.”

She lets go of you and redirects her attention to Mihawk. Her face lights up as though he’s her own son, beaming with love and pride. To his absolute horror, your mother puts her hands on the sides of his face. He almost pulls away to avoid the unwanted affections.

“Sweetie, you look handsome as ever!” she exclaims. Her expression falls as she looks him up and down. “But you’re a bit thin, aren’t you? And that open shirt, tsk. Winter is coming, sweetheart, you’ll catch pneumonia if you don’t cover up.”

“Delighted to see you again, ma’am,” Mihawk lies through his teeth. To some degree, you’re impressed with how honest he sounds.

"Oh, sweetheart, I told you to just call me mum!” She laughs. “We're family now."

You can see the relief in Mihawk’s eyes as your mother lets go of him. Some part of you wants to burst with laughter as you recall countless moments when you’re the one cradling his face and Dracule is more than overjoyed with the tender touch. It feels like there’s something beyond special about you, that he welcomes such intimate things. Although, truth be told, when it’s your hands on his face, you usually lean in to kiss him and that’s definitely not something he wants to think about while standing in front of your mother.

“He’s a grown man, honey.” Your father nags at his wife. He waves his hand in a dismissing manner. “Leave him be.” Mihawk’s terror returns when a heavy hand reaches for his shoulder. “Come, son, you’ll chop some wood for the night. I’m too old for this. The last time I tried chopping firewood, I got sciatica.”

“Pleased to help,” Dracule drones his words. He gives you a glance like a silent plead ‘Look what I do for you’. Then, he follows your father further into the garden.

You feel your mother put her arm around your shoulder. “Boys are off to have fun and we have a dinner to make.”

Something inside you stirs with excitement - cooking and baking used to be your bonding activities with your mum. Since you’ve married Mihawk, you’re not allowed to do any housework. Everything is taken care of by servants. You find that you’ve grown to miss the rhythm of mundane life, although it would be a lie if you said that you dislike the life you have with Mihawk. It’s just… different.

The sound of pots, pans and knives hitting the cutting boards is like a symphony to your ears. An aria to your childhood. If you closed your eyes, you could almost see the world as it used to be, your eyes right below the level of the countertops, always standing on a stool to help your mother.

But the thoughts of your younger years dissipate as you stare out of the kitchen window. You have the perfect view of your husband chopping firewood with your father raking leaves in the back. Mihawk’s skin glistens in the afternoon, autumn sun. There’s not a bead of sweat on his torso. He appears completely relaxed as he swings the axe with one hand. Some logs are already cracked or particularly dry and those he rips apart with his bare hands. Those same hands that tear pieces of wood into matches have caressed your skin with almost fearful softness; the arms that bring destruction have tirelessly shielded you from the dangers of the world. 

Your dad looks over his shoulder at the pile of firewood with a nod of awe. If Mihawk keeps up his tempo, he’ll prepare enough fuel for the next week.

“You remind me of your dad and me when we were younger.” Your mother’s face shakes you awake from your thoughts. Suddenly remembering that you were supposed to be helping her, you look down at the awfully chopped carrots. At least you didn’t cut off your finger. “Always stealing glances as though we weren’t already married.”

A sigh of yearning leaves your lips. What did you do in your past life to deserve a man like him?

“Dad still looks at you in an uncomfortably intense way,” you answer, a smile on your lips.

Your mother’s laughter brightens up the small, crowded kitchen. It’s not hard to correctly guess what your dad saw in her that made him want to spend his life with that woman. “He does the same when you’re not looking,” she says while vaguely pointing at Mihawk.

Her words make you blush. A deep shade of red covers your cheeks, making your whole face hot to the touch. “What do you mean?”

She looks at you with sympathy. “I saw it the day you introduced him to us. And each time you come over, he seems to be a little worse in his affliction, staring at you like you’re the one who hung stars in the sky. It made your grandma remind her of grandad so much, that she cried at your wedding.”

Listening to her, your longing gaze returns to Mihawk who appears oblivious to your undivided interest in him. “Mum, does it ever get boring?” you ask without looking away. “The sense of calm when you’re around him. Like everything could be ruined but it’s fine because he’s there.”

“It’s the only thing in the world that never gets tiring.” A flustered, juvenile smile decorates her face. Even with wrinkles and greying hair, she looks barely older than you at the moment, reliving the flame of love inside her that has never dwindled. “Now, let’s finish with the sentiments and stuff the duck, eh?”

Mihawk is reaching for another log when something makes him momentarily freeze. There, in front of the stump he’s been chopping wood on, sits a dog. It’s clearly a mutt, each feature taken from a different breed. The fur is an amalgamation of markings in different colours: orange, grey, white and black. As the dog notices Mihawk’s interest, it gets up, restlessly stomping in place or rather hopping as the pet is missing one of its hind legs.

“Gulliver,” Dracule recalls the name of the mutt you’ve told him so much about. Your first and only friend growing up in the countryside.

The name is taken as an invite and so the dog places a drool-covered, chewed-out ball next to the piece of firewood. The pet sits again, tail wagging as fast as it can.

For a moment, Mihawk is torn. He wants the dog to leave him be but that would mean he has to put his hand on the slimy toy. Then again, the pet is sure to continue disturbing him now that he has acknowledged its existence.

Cringing at the wet and warm sensation of the ball, Dracule picks it up, only furthering Gulliver’s excitement.

"This means nothing," he drones his words and throws the toy so far it almost disappears from sight. The dog, overjoyed, runs after the ball. 

Considering that your dad’s throw has gotten weaker with age, Mihawk might have dug his own grave with the distance he made the ball fly. Gulliver will probably want another run. Or ten.

For a moment, Mihawk goes back to the fantasy of settling down with you in a mountainous wonderland. Maybe you could have a dog too? Not a mutt but a hunting hound? They look very noble.

But he shakes those thoughts away and continues chopping wood.

The dinner went well. Homemade food, family you haven’t seen in a year, the cosy and sentimental atmosphere of your childhood home… And Mihawk didn’t look as miserable as he probably felt. Although you’re enjoying this little family reunion, you seize the opportunity for solitude when it arises:

Your parents go to the kitchen to put away the dirty dishes, plate the dessert and brew some tea. Tugging on Mihawk’s arm, you pull him outside the house.

The old flooring of the porch creaks under your weight. A bright, melodic tune is carried by the wind as it brushes against the chimes hanging under the roof. The sun has recently set and the sky is still in a lovely, indigo shade. Birds croak in the distance, announcing nightfall.

His warm hand rests on your lower back. The touch makes you momentarily take a deep, relaxing breath. Your thoughts become both orderly and fuzzy as though Mihawk’s presence turned all of your wandering, useless ideas into static you can easily ignore. How can a person have so much control over you? 

Mihawk is towering over you. He tilts his head downwards to look at you. Something about his looming aura makes you feel not only protected but also well-cared-for, as though you could give yourself up to him completely and you’d still live like a queen in a castle.

“If you keep frowning, your face will stay like that,” you say to him.

Mihawk’s expression relaxes at the mere mention of his visibly bitter mood. Or maybe it softens because he’s looking at you. “I was under the impression that you’re rather fond of my face.”

“And you’d be correct. But I do have to say that seeing you tear wood apart was much better.”

You lean closer to him as you put your arms around his neck. He welcomes the gesture, allowing his hands to travel an inch or two downwards, a little too low for when one is in the vicinity of others. Especially someone’s parents.

“So my wife likes to see me do manual labour,” he states, his warm breath brushing against your cold cheeks. There’s no surprise in his voice and there shouldn’t be. He’s noticed the way you look at him when he wields a sword and Mihawk would be an awful liar if he said he doesn’t enjoy those glances.

“I like seeing you, full stop. Chopping wood is just a nice variation to the scenario. Strong arms and all that.”

The said arms pull you by your hips into a kiss. Although he’s spent only a day in this part of the region, he already smells like fresh mountain air and pine needles. Mihawk groans, feeling the curves of your body against his. He will never get enough of this. Enough of you.

“Tea is served!”

Your mother’s exclamation makes you pull away from Mihawk. He instinctively chases after your lips before letting out an annoyed sigh. A chuckle rumbles in your chest. Dracule rolls his eyes but lets you thread your fingers with his and pull him back inside the farmhouse. There, you interrupt an interesting conversation:

“Darling, when’s the cake tasting again?” your father asks while flipping through the calendar, a pencil in his hand.

“On the 25th, honey,” she answers. The dining room is immediately filled with the aroma of bergamot as your mother pours the tea. “At 6 in the afternoon.”

“Cake tasting?” you repeat in confusion. “What’s going on?”

“Our golden wedding, of course!” the older woman beams with joy. “We’ve yet to send out the invitations, though, so don’t tell anyone. Especially your aunt. Gods know she runs her mouth like it’s a marathon.”

As though you’re thinking the same thing, Mihawk and you glance at each other. The miserable, irate expression in his eyes elicits a burst of bright laughter from you. He just can’t catch a break, can he?

[teshadraws]

Pokemon Mystery Dungeon: Seekers of Soul

[Chapter 63]

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AO3 Link

-

Tobias, Nia, and Junie travel back to the Lexym Guild with Fidel in tow, where they update August and reunite with an unexpected face.

-

The next morning is thankfully clear for their flight back to the guild. Tobias is the first one up, as usual, but Nia and Junie only grumble a little upon being woken up, since they can’t sleep in with Fidel and the flight ‘mon waiting on them.

By time they’ve grabbed breakfast and their gear and left the inn, Fidel is already stationed near one of the empty bonfire pits. Behind him, perched on the wall surrounding the cliffside village, two large flying types are perched.

For a split-second, Tobias thinks the bulkier silhouette is Fliss, but as they get closer he can see that there are a few differences. This Pokemon’s plumage is a different color, a stark white layered above a gray undercoat. And the crest above his face is definitely different, too—an almost eye-like pattern of bright blue and purple. No scar, either. A shiny, maybe? Or the psychic type variant if braviary that Fliss had mentioned before?

Whatever the case, he’s massive, possibly even larger than Fliss.

Next to him is a slightly smaller Pokemon—a pidgeot. She gives them a calm smile as they approach, the long yellow and red feathers atop her head streaming behind her in the wind.

Fidel turns to greet them as well. “Ah, good morning.”

“Yeesh,” Junie says. “You sure it’s a good morning? You look rough, dude.”

Tobias had thought the same—the zoroark’s voice is duller than usual, his smile worn and tired—but at least Tobias had the tact not to say it.

“Junie!” Nia quietly scolds.

Fidel laughs. “I’m aware I’m not at my finest, Nia. It’s been a long morning. And night. Asher was not pleased about my leaving on such short notice.”

Nia makes a sympathetic sound in her throat. “Understandable. You two do seem close.”

“We are. I hate to leave him so suddenly, but I know Will and the rest of the settlement will look after him.” The zoroark shoulders his large pack, looking them over. “You’re all ready to head out? You picked out some snow gear from Florence’s shop?”

“Yup!” Nia says.

“My coat makes me look like a lemon,” Junie’s adds cheerfully.

Fidel’s smile curves into something a bit more genuine. “That’ll make you easy to spot on the mountain, I suppose.”

“Yeah! See, Toby? Strategic advantage.”

“Strategic stupidity.”

“Hey!”

Fidel interrupts the brewing squabble by introducing the two flight ‘mon who will be flying them across the Obsidian Sea, back to the Metreja continent and the guild nestled within Bethoc’s Haven. The braviary, Cato, greets them with a nod, and the pidgeot, Auretta, ducks her head with a polite, “Pleased to meet you all.”

Since Fidel is heavier than Tobias, Nia, and Junie combined, he boards the braviary alone. The rest of them crawl atop the pidgeot, who crouches low to ease their climb.

Nia sits behind Tobias as has become the norm, so she can hold onto him and hide her face. By now, Tobias is almost used to the way she wraps her arms around his torso, though he still has to will his face not to burn with embarrassment.

“Ooh, cozy,” Junie teases. “Where do I sit?”

The flying types decide to have Junie settle in front of Tobias, and she wastes no time leaning back against him like her own personal seat. She cranes her head back, grinning. He flicks her forehead. She snaps her beak at his fingers with a playful clack clack.

Shortly after, they leave the human settlement with a powerful beating of wings, lifting into cool dawn air and higher into the sky, until the collection of stone buildings lining the cliffside look more like toys than an actual city.

And then they’re off.

———————————————————————————————

Junie, of course, can’t stay quiet for long, so they’ve only just reached the ocean when she finally stops trying to talk to Tobias (who is busy enjoying the flight) and Nia (who is busy being terrified) and instead strikes up conversation with the pidgeot.

Luckily, Auretta seems content to chat as they glide over open water, and it doesn’t take long for the conversation between the two to turn to flight.

“Yeah,” Junie says. “I’m not, uh, a real strong flier yet. I get freaked out flying too high on my own. But I wanna be a mail ‘mon one day, so I’m working on it! And riding on your back doesn’t scare me or anything.”

The pidgeot hums in response. Then she turns her head to catch Junie’s eye. “Have you ever flown over the ocean?”

“Nope!”

“Would you like to try?”

It takes a moment for Junie to understand what Auretta means. Then she squawks, “Right now?! What if I crash?”

“I’ll watch you,” Auretta soothes. “I helped my little sister learn to fly over these very waves, once. And she was a pidgey at the time, so not much larger than you.”

“Aren’t the winds unpredictable nowadays?” Tobias asks, dubious.

“They are,” Auretta confirms. “But they seem calm today. Would you like to try? Your wingspan isn’t made for soaring like ours, but we’re here so you can always take a break.”

Junie still seems unsure, leaning over to peer down at the waves far below. But after a long moment of silence she shakes herself and says, “You know what? Why not! Just, uh. Don’t let me die, okay?”

The pidgeot trills a sound somewhere between amused and encouraging. “Of course not. I’ll be here.”

For the next few minutes, the pidgeot gently coaches Junie, teaching her how to keep her wings steady and ride the air currents, as well as how to seek out thermals to elevate.

Eventually, Junie works up the courage to leap from Auretta’s back. The rookidee’s wings snap out and beat furiously, and for a heart-stopping moment Junie is swept back head-over-heels by a powerful gust of wind.

But Auretta is quick to tuck her wings and drop back with her, calmly buffeting the wind in front of Junie so she can regain her balance.

Still, Tobias can’t help looking back to make sure Junie just didn’t plummet into the ocean. Nia, whose arms had tightened around him, squeaks, “I-Is she okay?!”

She is. Her little face is screwed up with determination as she listens to Auretta calmly explain to keep her wings steady and to soar with the air current instead of working against it.

It takes a few more minutes before Junie seems to have the hang of it, only a little shaky as she coasts along behind Auretta.

“I think I got it!” Junie shouts.

Fidel, who had been watching from atop the braviary off to the side, yells, “Good work!”

“Stay calm, even when the winds shift,” the braviary adds, watching as well.

“I’m going to elevate,” Auretta calls over her shoulder. “The wind will feel stronger for a moment, but just let it take you, all right? We’re on a wide current, so you shouldn't be lead astray. Don’t panic.”

Junie calls, “Got it!”

The pidgeot tilts and flies higher, out of Junie’s path.

Junie looks overwhelmed for a moment, flapping once before stopping herself and straightening her wings. She wobbles, but then she’s quickly picked up like a leaf on the wind, moving forward at a brisk clip.

Before anyone can ask how she’s doing, Junie whoops a loud, joyous sound. Auretta dips so she can fly right beside her, and Junie turns to face them with a beaming grin.

“Toby, look! I did it! And it feels awesome!”

Tobias can’t help smiling back, something sharp and warm in his chest. He always wanted to be there when his sister evolved and got to fly herself for the first time. This isn’t that, but it’s close enough to have him choked up.

“You did it,” he says, trying not to make it obvious that he’s feeling stupidly emotional.

Luckily, Junie is too distracted by her own joy to call him out on it, simply turning her face up to enjoy the sun.

Of course, it’s not five minutes later before Junie starts begging Auretta and Cato to show her how to do some “cool flight tricks.” Tobias is relieved when they gently shoot down her idea of learning how to barrel roll.

————————————————————————————————

The rest of the trip is largely uneventful, thankfully, no rogue winds to disrupt their journey across the sea. Nia stays hidden in Tobias’ shoulder most of the time, but she makes muffled comments occasionally, so she must be listening to their conversations.

At one point Tobias thinks he catches a glimpse of Giratina checking in on them in the reflection of the sky below, but the titan is gone too quickly for Tobias to be sure.

They’d borrowed a cup of water the night before to update Giratina on their findings about Yveltal and Xerneas, and their plans to go to Silenfroar. Giratina had seemed to approve, apparently deeming their guess a valid possibility.

However, he’d also seemed more exhausted than usual, expression flat and his subdued gestures lacking their usual bite. Nia, being Nia, had of course asked if he was all right.

Giratina had straightened up, walls visibly rebuilding as he nodded. Nia clearly hadn’t been convinced, but without a way to hear Giratina speaking through the reflection it wasn’t like they could even understand anything he said except a yes or no answer.

Regardless of what was actually wrong—if anything—Tobias figures that Giratina just doesn’t feel like wasting valuable time and energy to monitor them today.

Junie takes to resting periodically on Auretta’s back, but she still leaps back into the air as much as possible, rambling about how impressed Bo will be by her new skills.

Hours pass peacefully this way, and it’s nearly noon, the sun high and bright overhead, when the braviary calls out, “Land ahoy!”

Tobias squints, ignoring Nia���s quiet, “Thank goodness.” Sure enough, the shore of the Bethoc Bluffs and the forest of the Haven lie on the horizon, faded blue with distance.

Tobias is startled out of his search by a high, unexpected voice coming from Fidel and Cato’s direction.

“Finally! I thought we’d never get there!”

Cato falters, and everyone else’s heads snap over.

From the pack still strapped to Fidel’s back, a tiny gray and red head is poking out with a devious grin, clearly enjoying their stunned reactions.

“Asher?!” Junie yells.

“Asher?” Fidel asks, half shocked and half concerned. He quickly unstraps his pack to pull it in front of him. Seeing that his son is unharmed, his brows lower. “What are you doing here?”

The zorua sinks low into the bag at his father’s upset tone, until all Tobias can see are golden eyes and lowered ears. He can barely hear the zorua over the wind as he says, “I didn’t want you to go.”

Fidel’s anger softens. He sighs. “I didn’t want to leave you either, but that does not mean you are allowed to disobey direct orders. What if we were going straight to the mountains and had to stop to find somewhere safe for you to stay?”

“I’d be okay!” Asher says. “I’m tough! And I can always hide in your hair to stay warm.”

“You are not coming to the mountians,” Fidel says, voice hard. “And I will be double-checking that you haven’t decided to sneak along again before we go.”

Asher pouts. “But—"

“No. You will stay at the guild’s nursery until we return.”

Asher perks up again. “Does that mean you’re not sending me back to the settlement? Please tell me you’re not. It’s so boring there!”

Fidel sighs, glancing over at Tobias, Nia, and Junie. “…No. we can’t afford to turn around simply to drop you off. You’ll come with us to the Lexym Guild, as long as Team Scarlet thinks you’d be welcome there.”

“Of course he would!” Junie chirps, despite having never been to the guild herself.

Tobias squashes her down with a hand, ignoring her offended cheep. “I’m sure Asher can stay in the guild’s nursery while we’re gone. Honestly, the shinx kids will probably be thrilled to have a new playmate.”

Asher almost wiggles out of his father’s hold in his excitement. “Ooh, are they fun? How old are they? I bet I could turn into a shinx!”

“Don’t sound so thrilled,” Fidel admonishes. “We will be talking about this more once we settle in. You’re still in trouble.”

“Right. Sorry,” Asher says.

Tobias doesn’t think he sounds all that sorry at all, but it is clear Asher doesn’t like upsetting his father, even if he doesn’t really regret stowing away.

Despite the scolding, Fidel doesn’t stop his son from joining in the conversation after that. Some part of Tobias thinks the zoroark is actually relieved to have his son nearby where he can keep an eye on him.

Half the remaining journey is spent with Asher yelling questions across the sky about the Lexym Guild, which Tobias answers patiently. Junie wastes no time jumping in with questions of her own.

They must’ve taken a different flight route than usual since they came straight from the human settlement, because today they pass over a beach town near the bluffs on the edge of the continent. It’s a fairly small place, bigger than Stonebrook but much smaller than Ghatha. Closer to Fort Asra’s population than anything. Tobias thinks he remembers visiting once or twice with Maggie when he was younger.

As they fly over the bustling town, the braviary carrying Fidel suddenly jerks, strong enough to cut off Asher’s rambling with a yip. Fidel pulls his son closer.

“Cato?” Auretta says, tone concerned. She flies closer, as if to steady him.

The braviary doesn’t answer for a moment, frowning down at the quiet activity of the town below. “I’m fine. Just…thought I felt something strange in the air for a moment.”

Tobias frowns, eyeing the braviary’s crest. Fliss said that braviary variants were psychic types, right? Psychics do tend to be a bit more sensitive to certain things.

But after a tense moment of observation, the braviary shakes his head. “Probably nothing. Likely some psychic types playing with their powers. Apologies for the scare.”

The rest of them take the dismissal for what it is, slowly relaxing again. Asher and Junie resume their questioning after a minute or two.

The two chatterboxes only fall silent once they reach the Haven in earnest, and the giant tree that houses the Lexym Guild towers in the distance, far above the other trees of the forest.

“It’s huge!” Junie says. “You guys didn’t tell me you lived somewhere so cool!”

Tobias shrugs. He’s lived at the guild for over eight years now, so it’s long since lost its novelty. It’s just…home, nowadays.

Auretta and Cato find the mail ‘mons’ flight floor with easy familiarity, alighting on the wooden platforms with gentle thumps.

Fidel and Asher slide down from the braviary’s back, and Auretta crouches for Tobias, Nia and Junie to do the same. Tobias tries to help Nia soften her landing, but she still winces as she lands, paw going to her ribs.

The two flight ‘mon were paid in advance by Will, so they give their goodbyes and head off to the flight outpost. Junie hops after them, calling out her thanks for the impromptu flight lesson.

It’s not long until the two flying types are out of sight.

“So what now?” Junie asks, eyes sparkling as she takes in the open, windy interior and wooden walls. “Gonna give us the grand tour?”

For once, Tobias wishes they could do something so laid-back, but he knows they need to get something else over with first.

“We need to talk to August first. Update him and see if he found anything out about Xerneas while we were gone. Plus, we need to get his approval so we can travel to the mountains. He might have some tips for us.”

“And…” Nia adds, looking nervous. “Um. We have to tell him about the whole Kaleido Bay thing, right?”

The mark on their record, yeah. As their guildmaster, August will find out about it sooner or later, so Tobias would rather the rillaboom hear it straight from him.

Tobias nods, ignoring Asher’s curious look and Junie’s sympathetic grimace.

“We’ll join you, if that’s all right. I need to make sure it’s okay for Asher to stay here while we’re gone,” Fidel says, giving his son—who is happily sniffing circles around the room, probably tracking an old scent—an unimpressed look.

Decision made, Tobias leads their little group up the few flights to August’s office. He just hopes the rillaboom is free so they can get this over with.

The whole walk, Junie and Asher take turns eagerly pointing out different parts of the Lexym Tree’s construction, peering through the lattice windows they pass and asking how they built a whole guild inside of a tree.

“I think it’s magic,” Nia whispers conspiratorially, leaning closer to Asher and wiggling her fingers.

Asher grins. “Has to be. Even with lotsa grass types around, this tree is humongous! Like, weirdly so. Right, Dad?”

“It is impressive.”

“Hm. Magic and lots of love and care?” Nia jokes, glancing at Tobias.

Tobias snorts. “I’m sure that’s it.”

Tobias is glad they don’t push for actual answers, at least, considering he doesn’t have them. As far as he knows, the Lexym Tree has been like this for over a century, since the guilds were first formed and Bethoc herself founded this branch.

Still, their good mood nosedives as they reach August’s quarters at the top of the guild. The stone doors are closed tight, vines wrapping around their surface, and bright autumn foliage wreathes the corners of the doorframe.

Tobias takes a deep breath and knocks. He’s both relieved and disappointed when August’s deep voice can be faintly heard in response.

Verene is the one who opens the doors. The lurantis scans Tobias and the others with mild surprise, but she opens the door wider without hesitation, silently ushering them in.

August seems just as surprised to see them, though his expression quickly turns to warm relief.

Tobias stomach churns. For a second, he considers not telling August about their transgression in Kaleido at all.

…But no, that’ll only delay the inevitable. And August would be even more disappointed in them if they tried to hide it.

Tobias takes another breath to calm his nerves.

“Team Scarlet! I wasn’t expecting you back so soon. And I see you’ve brought company?”

Tobias nods, gesturing first at Junie. “Juniper the rookidee. You might remember that we met her in Ghatha on our last trip East.”

“Junie,” Junie corrects, hopping forward with a dramatic bow. “I live in

Stonebrook! I’m just here to help these two knuckleheads stay in one piece.”

August chuckles. “Pleasure to meet you. And you two?”

Fidel steps forward, his usual friendly demeanor stiffening as he bows as well. “Fidel the zoroark. Second in command at the human settlement south of Ghatha. This is my son, Asher.”

“Hiya!” Asher chirps. In a flash of light, he morphs into a grookey to bow just as dramatically as Junie had.

Junie snorts, but Fidel almost looks panicked as he nudges his son. Asher glances up at him, sighs, then transforms back into a zorua to bow more respectfully.

August watches the exchange with a strange expression, half-amused and half…sad, almost? Still, his smile is warm when Fidel looks back to him. “You and your son are welcome here, Fidel. Worry not.”

Fidel’s tense posture doesn’t relax, but he does nod, murmuring his thanks.

“Happy as I am to welcome you all to the Lexym Guild, am I wrong in assuming you have a purpose in mind, coming here with Team Scarlet? Have you news on your search for Xerneas?”

Tobias nods. “Will’s team did some research, and we think we have a place to start looking.”

He glances at Fidel, and the zoroark takes over.

“Xerneas and Yveltal rest within a certain proximity of one another during their sleep cycles.”

August nods, not looking surprised. He must’ve found similar claims in his own research here at the guild.

“As such, we only need to find one before we have an anchor point to find the other,” Fidel continues. “We can also assume from the legends that their resting places display specific qualities. Namely, that Xerneas will rest somewhere lush, and Yveltal somewhere barren. In addition, the crystals forming their cocoons typically spill over into the environment around them as well.”

August narrows his eyes, a thoughtful hand coming up to his chin. “That makes sense, considering the role of each legendary in regards to the ecosystem. I’m assuming you believe one of the two legendaries to be nearby since you followed Team Scarlet all the way back to Metreja?”

Fidel nods, looking to Nia.

She startles, but hurries forward to continue. “Y-Yes! Do you remember the sableye we rescued in that dungeon on the river, along with Team Aqua Jet? Carnelian?”

August smiles. “I do. A nervous little fellow, but very polite.”

“Yes! Before he left the guild, he mentioned that he was going somewhere to investigate some strange crystals.”

“The Silenfroar Mountain range,” Tobias adds.

August straightens, brow furrowing with understanding. “Which would certainly be a barren landscape, yes?”

Fidel nods. “We’re thinking that Yveltal may be resting there. However, we want to investigate and confirm for sure so we can use his location as a tether to find Xerneas, considering they should be within sight of one another.”

August hums, thoughtful, his gaze locked on one of the branches snaking its way through the walls of the room and bringing a burst of autumn leaves with it.

Tobias frowns. He knows August well enough after all these years to guess what that look means. “You found something out while we were gone, didn’t you?”

August blinks back to the present, and laughs. “That transparent, am I? We have been performing our own research in your brief absence, but let me confirm my suspicions with Alistair and Tawny first before I share what I suspect. Don’t worry, I’ll be sure to keep you all in the loop.”

Tobias doesn’t doubt that August is telling the truth, despite how much grief he’s given his guildmaster over the years.

Another jab of guilt in Tobias’ chest.

“You trained up in those mountains once, right?” Tobias asks, pushing past the feeling. “Did you hear anything about Yveltal while you were there?”

August looks faintly surprised that Tobias remembers that little tidbit, probably since it was shared so many years ago. The rillaboom shakes his head. “No, I heard nothing of the sort while I was there. But though they welcomed me on a surface level by the end of my training, I was never truly one of them. It’s likely they would still keep important secrets from me, and a legendary hidden in their territory would certainly qualify.”

“Oh,” Nia says, wilting. “Does that mean you wouldn’t be able to put in a good word for us?”

August’s brows raise. “You mean to travel up the mountain yourselves? All of you?”

“Will would like to work with ‘mon he personally knows he can trust,” Fidel says. “And I could help to assure their safety, if you permit it.”

“And Giratina asked US to look into Xerneas,” Tobias adds. Well, he asked Nia, but still—they’re a unit. “And we know Carnelian, too. He trusts us. It makes sense for us to go.”

Nia and Junie open their mouths to add their own input, but August lifts a hand to stop them.

“You don’t need to try so hard to convince me. You’ve already proven yourselves worthy of missions far above your ranking, and you aren’t the worst option in the guild, type-wise.”

Verene, who had been silently watching the exchange off to the side, steps forward for the first time, pink and white claws crossed politely but voice firm. “All the same, August, if time is a pressing matter, should we not send someone who could make the trip faster? I know we don’t have many upper-level Seekers on hand who are great in the cold, but someone like Team Sequoia could adapt well.”

Andyn’s parents? Oh, absolutely not. Tobias is not trusting the fate of the world to two sawsbuck who can’t even raise their own kid properly.

Before he can protest, August shakes his head. “You know as well as I do that Team Sequoia would make enemies of the village sooner than they’d find any answers, Verene. Trust me on this. We need someone non-threatening who already has a connection with the sableye researcher at the very least.” He smiles at them. “As I cannot go myself, I have a feeling this group is exactly the team for the job.”

Tobias is going to die from the guilt. A glance at Nia shows she’s feeling the same, wincing under the praise.

Verene doesn’t seem thrilled by August’s answer, glancing over Nia, Tobias, Junie and Asher doubtfully, but she dutifully steps back.

August looks back to them. “You have my approval for Team Scarlet to investigate the Silenfroar mountain range for signs of Xerneas or Yveltal’s presence. I do want you to wait a day or so for my confirmation before you depart, though. I need to draft a letter to the matriarch of the village if you want to bypass any initial suspicion. Additionally, I want you to prepare properly—the mountainside can be brutal, especially if you run into any bad weather. Make sure to get some snow clothes from Vera before leaving.”

“Already done!” Junie chirps. “Will hooked us up.”

“We didn’t grab shoes, though,” Nia frets. “The ones at the shop looked too thin, so…”

August bends over his desk for a moment to scribble a note to himself. “In that case, make sure you grab some snowshoes before departing from the guild. I believe Vera has a few pairs in storage. I’ll send word so she can dig them out.”

Nia gives her thanks, looking relieved.

“What about me?” Asher asks, head craning back to look up at his father.

Fidel falters. “Right. Guildmaster, would it be possible for my son to stay here in your guild’s nursery while we journey up the mountain? He was not supposed to join on this trip, but…”

“Of course,” August says, clearly catching Fidel off-guard with such easy approval. “Arlo and his assistants can handle one more bundle of chaos, I’m sure. Just be sure not to cause them too much grief, little one.”

Asher perks up with a radiant smile. “Of course not, sir!”

Junie and Tobias snort in unison.

“Does that mean I’m cool to crash with Nia and Toby while I’m here too?” Junie asks.

August nods. “I expected as much. You should have more than enough room in Team Scarlet’s quarters.”

Junie whispers, “Mission accomplished!” to Nia, making the riolu smile.

August makes a sound in his throat as if he just remembered something. “Speaking of which, you actually have another guest who requested to meet with you. They’ve been staying in the guest quarters the last few days, but I’ll send word for them to meet up with you right away. I’m sure they’ll be interested in joining you on your journey to Silenfroar.”

Tobias blinks, surprised, and exchanges a confused look with Nia. A guest?

“You and your son will also have guest quarters for the duration of your stay,” August says to Fidel, quickly writing down some details on a slip of paper before holding it out to him. “Though Asher is more than welcome to sleep in the nursery while you’re away.”

Fidel takes the slip of paper after a beat of hesitation, murmuring his thanks. Asher clambers up his father’s side to perch on his shoulder and read it too.

“If that’s all,” August says, “I’m sure you’re all hungry after your travels. Feel free to go to the cafeteria—they should still be serving lunch at this hour.”

Nia and Tobias hesitate, exchanging a reluctant glance. Part of Tobias just wants to leave and deal with the mark on their record later, especially if August could potentially rescind his permission for them to investigate the mountains, but…

He can’t just lie to August, not after how welcoming he’s been to them. Today, and for Tobias’ whole life, honestly.

“We have something else to tell you,” Tobias sighs. He glances uncomfortably at Fidel. “About, uh…an incident we were a part of in Kaleido Bay.”

August straightens, his smile curving into a concerned frown.

Fidel must pick up on their discomfort, because he smiles awkwardly and dips his head. “In that case, Asher and I will go find our lodgings for the night and grab some food. I’ll come to speak with you tomorrow, Team Scarlet.”

“Can we go see the nursery first?!” Asher asks, shaking his dad’s shoulder. “I gotta find those shinx kids!”

“We can,” Fidel agrees with a wry look. “But you’re also helping me draft a letter to poor Will to let him know you’re safe. He’ll be in a fuss over your disappearance.”

Asher winces. “…Whoops. Didn’t think about that.”

“Yes, ‘Whoops.’” Fidel turns back to August with another formal bow. “Thank you again for your hospitality, Guildmaster.”

August nods and dismisses the father and son, and they take their leave to slip quietly from the room.

In their absence, a heavy silence falls.

August turns back to them, looking more concerned than anything. “What exactly is this ‘incident’ that occurred in Kaleido Bay?”

Tobias takes a breath and steps forward. “It was my fault. We found out that one of the Pokemon responsible for the death of my family was being held in the prison there. I wanted to talk to him.”

August recoils, clearly not expecting that answer. The rillaboom surely knows the vague details of how Tobias came to join the guild years ago, but even Maggie doesn’t have the full story. And Tobias has certainly never willingly divulged details like this to him.

It helps to say it like a report. To keep a clinical sort of distance from the event itself.

Verene is staring at Tobias with uncharacteristic emotion, pink eyes wide with shock. Tobias wouldn’t be surprised if this is the first time she’s hearing about his circumstances at all, considering she wasn’t at the guild when he first arrived.

August could’ve told her at some point, of course, but Tobias realizes suddenly that he’d always just trusted that August would keep it as quiet as possible out of respect for his privacy. After all, from the very beginning, August was one of the few ‘mon at the guild who treated Tobias with respect. He has always showed a deep, honest sympathy for Tobias’ circumstances, rather than pity.

August has always been on Tobias’ side, even if Tobias didn’t recognize it until recently.

Which is why Tobias is going to keep his lying to a minimum, here and now. They can’t implicate Rosalind because Arceus knows what she would do in retaliation, but…

“We blackmailed a guard to get into the prison,” Tobias admits, lifting his chin and locking eyes with August. “I had to know.”

August’s expression becomes more somber. He leans forward to rest his chin on interlaced fingers. “I see. And did you find what you were looking for by speaking with this outlaw?”

Tobias swallows down fresh grief. “…In a way, yes. I don’t regret doing it.”

He does regret getting Nia in trouble too, and of course the danger of the whole situation in the first place, but as far as tarnishing his own record? He’d do that a thousand times over to find answers. To get some closure.

“Nia didn’t want me to go alone, but it was entirely my idea.”

“I went along with it,” Nia protests, stepping up to his side. “I-I…I should bear any punishment you give, too.”

August hums, looking between them. “And you two are telling me this out of the goodness of your hearts? Or were you found out?”

“Dismas made an escape attempt while we were there,” Tobias says, lifting his arm to show his still-bandaged side, finally almost healed. “We delayed him until reinforcements arrived, but that did bring attention to the whole incident. One of the wardens came to talk to us afterwards and explained that due to our help we would get a lighter punishment, but we’ll still have a mark on our record. You should be receiving notice of that soon.”

August is silent for a few moments, looking to Verene as if to gauge her reaction. She looks troubled by the admission of wrongdoing, but strangely uncertain, too. Likely still reeling from the revelation about Tobias’ family.

Finally, August sighs, making a note on a slip of paper on his desk. “Well, I certainly can’t condone you both engaging in such unsavory activity, not to mention where you received the knowledge to blackmail a prison guard in the first place—"

Here, August pauses to give them a stern, knowing look that makes them wince.

“—But I can also understand where you are coming from, Tobias. I suppose my next question must be whether you plan to repeat such behavior in the future?”

“Not if it might hurt someone else,” Nia answers first. Tobias looks at her, surprised by the passion in her voice.

“The Pokemon we blackmailed got in trouble, too,” Nia continues, quieter, voice shaky. “I-I can’t do that again. Hurt someone else for personal gain.”

She peeks at Tobias as she says it, expression both hard and pleading, as if begging him not to put her in such a situation again.

Tobias feels fresh guilt worm its way into his gut. He hadn’t thought much about Jude’s repercussions at all. Of course Nia has been stewing in guilt over them the whole time.

“Agreed,” Tobias finally says, crumbling under Nia’s expression. “I…can’t say I wouldn’t be tempted in the future if information about the outlaws who killed my family was on the line, but I’ll go with Nia on this. I promise no one else will be caught in the crossfire in the future.”

August gives them a tired smile. “As much as I am pleased to hear that your hearts are in the right place, as your guildmaster I need to remind you both that you should not admit to planning to break any rules to Verene and I.”

Nia and Tobias both wince, Nia murmuring a quiet, “Sorry.”

August chuckles, shaking his head.

Verene looks torn, as if unsure if August should be taking all of this so lightly.

Tobias swallows, pushing forward. “Do we still have your permission to investigate the Silenfroar Mountains?”

August quirks a brow. “Would it stop you if I said no?”

Nia and Tobias exchange an uncertain look.

August coughs, though it sounds suspiciously like he’s covering a laugh. “Don’t answer that. Typically, teams with infractions for suspicious activity would be put on leave while the issue was investigated, but seeing as you came to tell me your reasoning directly, that step of the process is complete for now. I do truly believe you all are the best choice for this mission, so I’ll keep you as the assigned team.”

Tobias releases a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding, hearing Nia do the same next to him.

“However,” August continues, pinning them both with a stern look. “This is still a permanent red flag on your record. Accumulate more than two and your team will be put on leave indefinitely. Do not put me in that position. Got it?”

Tobias straightens up with a nod. “Yes sir.”

“Y-Yes sir!”

August holds the look for a moment longer, then waves them out. “In that case, you three are free to go. I’ll send your other guest to your quarters soon. And I believe you had a rather large delivery as well during your absence.

Tobias blinks. News of a “guest” is strange enough, but they had a big delivery, too?

Tobias doesn’t question it aloud, though. He, Nia and even Junie bow and say their thanks before scurrying out of the room.

Just before Tobias crosses the threshold, August calls out, “Tobias?”

Tobias stops, looking back at the rillaboom.

His face is soft. “Circumstances aside, I’m glad you found what you were looking for in the prison. I hope it bring you some measure of peace.”

Tobias swallows against an unexpected wave of emotion, nodding and mumbling his thanks before following Nia and Junie out of the room.

As soon as the door closes behind them and they’re alone in the hallway, Junie sags to the floor. “Whew! Well that was nerve-racking. No wonder you don’t like to get in trouble, Nia.”

“Who does?” Nia asks, aghast.

Tobias just points at Junie, who proudly fluffs out her chest. She’s an impidimp under all those feathers, he swears.

“Well, I certainly don’t enjoy it,” Nia murmurs. But then she perks up. “Oh! But what do you think August meant by us having a guest? And a delivery?”

“I want food and a tour soon, but I’m curious too. We could go to your room first to check it out?” Junie suggests.

Tobias doesn’t see any issue with that. They’re likely not going to get much done today aside from settling back in and checking on Maggie and Nia’s friends, so they might as well quell their curiosity and take their time.

Tobias leads the three of them to the floor where the Seekers’ quarters are housed, then down the hall and to their room. Along the way, Nia tells Junie about where and who they need to visit while at the guild.

“Oh, you’ll love Maggie! She’s Tobias’ mom and she’s the sweetest person alive. And you’ll probably meet Fen and Sage during that visit, too. And I need to introduce you to Xander’s team! They’re a few years older than us, but they’re some of our best friends. And Andyn’s—"

Nia cuts herself off abruptly.

Tobias rolls his eyes, not even looking back to see his partner’s crestfallen expression. “If Andyn is still in a mood a week after our little tiff, that’s her problem. And don’t you dare go to apologize to her when it’s her fault for having such an awful attitude.”

“I-I know,” Nia says quietly. “But…I do miss her.”

“If you’re worried, you could always check in with the sensible members of her team.”

“Wait, hold up. What’s the drama here?” Junie asks, fluttering forward to perch on Tobias’ shoulder. “Who’s Andyn?”

“One of Nia’s friends. We did a joint mission with her team before we left and she was being an insecure little brat the whole time. She was still acting huffy when we left.”

“She was being a brat to Nia?” Junie asks, aghast. “Oh, she’d better be a bug type. I’m gonna peck some sense into her.”

“Junie, no!” Nia says.

Tobias smirks. “Grass type, actually. So you’re good. And I think her teammates might just cheer you on at this point.”

“Tobias!“ Nia says, louder.

Tobias and Junie ignore Nia’s protests from behind them on the staircase, the two of them instead making more and more ridiculous attack plans. Tobias knows Nia isn’t actually upset with them since he can hear the growing laughter in her voice with every protest. After Junie threatens to stalk Andyn around the guild and drop berries on her head in some kind of psychological warfare, Nia doesn’t even try to protest anymore as she giggles.

The teasing continues until they reach their room. Tobias opens the door, expecting their delivery to be something too large for the mailbox but still manageably small.

Instead, the three of them stop cold in the entryway of the room, staring at the supplies lumped together into a pile taller than them.

“What in the..?” Tobias says.

Nia gasps, pushing past them. “It’s a bed!”

“For real?!” Junie yells. She flutters forward to join Nia, eagerly knelt next to a bundle of…wooden posts?

Tobias frowns, joining them as well. “I thought you didn’t buy a bed from Hazel because it was too expensive.”

“Oh.” Nia pauses, blinking. “I didn’t.”

Junie brings their attention to a little note tied to one of the posts, plucking it free with her beak to hold out to Nia. Nia skims through it, and a peek reveals that it’s written in that strange scrawling script from Hazel’s last letter, completely illegible to him.

Nia’s expression softens. “It IS from Hazel. She says she wants to thank us for returning her ‘silly husband’ to her and her family in one piece. No charge.”

“Her husband?” Junie asks.

“Yeah! He’s super nice. I think he’s called a floatzel? We saved him and his crew from a mystery dungeon on the way back from Shivergleam.”

“No charge at all is pretty generous of her,” Tobias says, raising a brow.

“I know! I almost don’t want to accept.”

“Hey, don’t look for the hair in the soup and all that,” Junie says, hopping from one bundle of crisply cut, polished wood to another.

“Do you always have to make it yourself?” Tobias asks doubtfully. It looks…kind of complicated.

With a grin, Nia flips over the letter to show him the back, where more is written along with some little doodles to help illustrate. “Nope, but there are instructions! It doesn’t look too bad.”

Tobias still doesn’t get why the two of them are so excited. He’s having a hard time figuring out what this weird bed will even look like by the time they’re done. What’s wrong with a simple nest on the floor?

Junie must sense his doubt, because she hops over the wood and says, “You’ll understand soon, Toby. Come over here and feel this!”

Tobias rounds the pile of materials to find a giant rectangular…something? It looks thick but soft and it’s covered in cloth. It sparks a long-forgotten memory on the edge of his thoughts, of waking up somewhere impossibly soft after Team Zenith’s attack.

Oh. Maybe he has slept in a similar kind of bed before. He thinks the doctor in the village had one? Maybe there was a human living there that Tobias was unaware of at the time.

Trying not to look too intrigued, Tobias follows Junie’s order and sits down on the edge of what she calls a “mattress.” It feels like more of those springs might be inside, but it’s heavily padded by fabric and other stuffing, so he sinks comfortably a few inches before lightly bouncing back up.

Okay, maybe Tobias is starting to see why they’re so excited to sleep on this. He hesitates, knowing Junie will likely comment on it, but eventually decides to flop back onto it fully.

“Nice, right?” Junie asks, her smug expression audible. Tobias doesn’t give her the satisfaction of responding, instead closing his eyes.

…It is pretty comfortable.

Nia snickers, but thankfully doesn’t comment. The sound is followed by the clatter of wood and shuffling as Nia starts putting together whatever the rest of the supplies are for.

“Okay, looks like it’s just a peg system, so I don’t think we’ll need tools…”

“Should we grab food before you get lost in construction mode?” Junie pipes up, looking between them. “I’m starving.”

Nia is clearly reluctant to part with her new project, but Tobias is hungry too. They compromise, heading down to grab lunch and bringing it back to their room to eat.

Tobias and Junie dig in with relish, the little rookidee praising the cooking’s quality. Nia just takes bites of her meal here and there while organizing the materials and lining up pegs in their proper placement.

After he’s finished eating, Tobias peels himself from the mattress to help Nia hold the supplies in place, since her muttering has only gotten more frustrated in the last few minutes.

The two of them are only halfway through building what is apparently a frame to hold the mattress off the floor when a quiet tap tap comes from the doorway. They all turn to look, just as a familiar head pokes into the room.

Oh. That’s the second time this afternoon that Tobias has been thrown completely for a loop.

“Samir?!” Nia gasps, practically throwing down the materials in her paws to scramble up and greet the skiddo.

Samir looks just as they’d left them in Fort Asra, albeit a bit more unsure in this new environment. Their nerves visibly lessen in the face of Nia’s enthusiastic greeting, but the skiddo still holds themself stiffly as ever, legs locked and chin raised. Across their back, a satchel like the one Maggie wears when gathering herbs is draped over their spine.

So the mystery guest August had mentioned before is Samir. After hearing about the skiddo’s terrible partner back in Fort Asra, and Nia offering Samir a place in the Lexym Guild instead, Tobias can take a wild guess for why they’re here.

He’s just not quite sure how to feel about it.

[hometoursandotherstuff]

Wow. This contemporary home in East Brisbane, Australia is stunning. If you're a fan of black & gold, you'll especially love it. The 5bd, 6ba home is listed for $8,256,874.

Can you imagine entering this home every day? It's incredible, isn't it? They do not show an actual photo of the sitting room. The photos are terrible.

They don't even show this wonderful marble fireplace in its entirety.

This is basically the only glimpse of a sitting area that we can see.

This sitting room opens to the patio, but they only photographed a corner of it.

Small bar for entertaining guests is outside the dining room.

The large dining room arches have beautiful gold wallpaper with flying geese. Whoever took the photos was going for the artsy angle, rather than showcasing the actual rooms.

Now, you may think that this is a bar, but it's actually one of those cleverly hidden kitchens.

If you look closely, you can see a burner and a sink, b/c we don't want no damned kitchen messin' up the sleek look.

The guest 1/2 bath has an interesting sink and whimsical fish wallpaper.

The center hall and marble spiral stairs that go up to the bedrooms.

I'm going to call this the primary bedroom. It has the very popular crane wallpaper, plus a sitting area with a fireplace and beautiful arched shelving.

This is the en-suite in black and gold. What an unusual sink cabinet.

There's also this lovely makeup vanity.

The closet appears to be inside the balcony that you see from the ground floor entrance.

This bedroom has a more moody or jewel tone look.

It has a smaller en-suite. All of the sink cabinets match, and this one is smaller with brown marble to match the wallpaper.

This bedroom suite has a larger bath with a sauna.

I've never seen a sauna that wasn't wood.

Lastly, there's a guest suite with a shower.

This home is on a 6,427 sq ft lot.

https://www.jamesedition.com/real_estate/east-brisbane-australia/903sqm-of-north-facing-luxury-riverfront-designed-by-greg-natale-12562124

[saintmuses]

❝𝙣𝙤 𝙤𝙣𝙚 𝙚𝙡𝙨𝙚 𝙞𝙣 𝙩𝙝𝙞𝙨 𝙬𝙤𝙧𝙡𝙙 𝙘𝙖𝙣❞

Pairing:

Jonathan Crane x Innocent!Reader

Summary:

They were best friends since high school then he broke her when she became his Patient X.

Warning(s): Dub-con. Pervert/depraved!Jonathan. Implied corruption. Implied abduction. Power imbalance. Naivety. Nudity. He struggled with his feelings for her. This is dark due to mental health and toxin usage. Minors, dni!

Word Count: 1.5k

“The mind can only take so much.” He had once said that to one of his minions, and he knew that it was true when he was accosted by his own toxin. He had seen things, the things he wished he hadn’t seen. His best friend dying over and over. The only person he’d ever cared about.

The door closed behind him with a quiet thud, he threw his scarecrow burlap mask to the side table in the foyer carelessly. 

Something was different tonight, and he couldn’t put a finger on it.

“Jon?” A voice murmured from the end of the hallway, making him inhale sharply.

He exhaled softly before turning to her, “it’s time to go to bed, my dear.” He murmured; his eyes raked over her figure to ensure nothing was out of place.

He used his creation to experiment on her phobia, and after so many trials and tribulations, he had broken her. Not in the way he had imagined, but he broke her, nevertheless.

She went from one of the smartest people he had ever got to known with fire that could scorch everything, reverting to an innocent docile person that he had to take care of. Obviously after what happened, he couldn’t give her back to her family, but it had been five years since he took her in. Of course, he had to implant a farce where she was abducted and declared she was dead.

Something was different tonight, and he did not understand what it was.

He sat down on the edge of her mattress, fingers brushing against the hem of her t-shirt, his touch lingering as he slowly lifted them. She was delicate in his hands, and he couldn't help but feel protective and possessive over her this time. To him the feeling felt foreign.

With a gentle tug, he pulled the shirt over her head, revealing the smooth skin beneath. Her breathing quickened, and Jonathan could tell she was nervous. He shushed her gently, assuring her as he did every night. "It's okay.” He cooed softly, she was his best friend and only she got to see the side of him that no one else would ever get.

He traced his fingers along the waistband of her pants,  and with a subtle tug, they slid down her legs, leaving her standing before him in nothing but her bra and underwear.

He could see right through the bundle of energy she was radiating. "Y/N, you don't have to be afraid of me," he assured her once again as he gently tugged at her bra strap, loosening it. "I'd never hurt you."

You broke her. His mind whispered, almost viciously teetering on victorious as if he was proud that he broke his best friend.

“I know you won’t.” she murmured shyly. Her voice was soft and sweet.

"That's my good girl," he said softly, his warm breath brushing against her arm. With gentle fingers, he unhooked her bra and let it fall to the floor, taking in the sight of her perfect breasts. His possessiveness spiked once more.

He had never once looked at her breasts or anywhere on her body when he would help her to change clothes.

After what happened in the Arkham Asylum, being sprayed in the face with his toxin, and seeing what he had saw, it shifted something inside of him.

Perhaps there was a reason why he kept her like a singing docile bird in a gilded cage. The one that did not fly too far, always circling around him.

He turned to the side slightly on the bed and grabbed a large t-shirt from beside him.

She looked at it, confusion flitted her curious gaze. “Is that my shirt?”

"No, this shirt is for you to sleep in tonight," he explained gently, guiding her to slip it over her head. It was huge on her, dwarfing her frame, but it was comfortable, and that was all that mattered.

He could feel the heat emanating from her body as he slid his hands up her thighs, feeling the soft skin beneath his fingertips. His touch was gentle yet strangely possessive as he reached for her underwear under the shirt, slowly sliding them down her legs. "There we go.”

As soon as his fingers enclosed the underwear that she had stepped out of, he froze when he felt something damp on the fabric.

“Jonny?”

His heart skipped a beat at the sound of her sweet, innocent voice calling him "Jonny". He couldn't help but feel a rush of emotions - protectiveness, possessiveness, and something else he couldn't quite put his finger on.

He could feel her looking at him. “Are you okay?”

Clearing his throat "I'm fine, my dear," he said reassuringly, forcing a smile as his fingers tightened on the fabric. "Now, how about we get you into bed?”

He watched her climb onto the bed, his eyes never leaving her. He couldn't help but feel a twinge of regret as she turned away from him. It was then that he brought the underwear to his face, inhaling deeply. He couldn't help but inhale her scent, memorizing every detail of it. It was intoxicating, like a drug to him. As she turned her face to him, he quickly tucked the underwear away in the pocket of his dress pants, trying to regain his composure.

She looked concerned, “Jonny?”

"I'm fine," he repeated, his voice more shaky than he would have liked. "Now, why don't you snuggle under these covers and get warm?"

When he was helping her lifting the comforter up, the long t-shirt ridden high on her thighs while she accidentally spread her legs while trying to get underneath the comforter.

He couldn't help but notice how her legs spread, revealing more of her soft skin of her thighs. His possessiveness flared once more, and he couldn't resist reaching out to gently pull the shirt down further, covering her thighs completely.

He noticed the slight blush on her cheeks and knew she was embarrassed. He chuckled softly, brushing off her impending apology. "Don't worry about it."

His heart melted at the sight of her sweet smile, and he couldn't resist leaning over to gently press a soft kiss to her forehead. "Sleep well, my dear."

The next morning, she was still sleeping soundly as he opened the door to check on her while wiping down his glasses with a soft cloth before placing it back on his face.

Jonathan couldn't help but notice how adorable she looked, all warm and snuggled under the covers. He strode over to her bed, “wake up, Y/N.”

A groan of protest emitted from her throat as she burrowed into the pillow.

He chuckled softly, knowing she wasn't a morning person. He was comforted to know despite breaking her, she still inhibited some pieces of her old self. "Come on, it's time to start your day." He gently pulled the covers off of her, revealing her body under the t-shirt which so happened to ride up on where her thighs met her ass, revealing a sliver of her bare pussy. He swallowed hard.

He couldn't believe how innocent she looked. The sight of her exposed pussy under the fabric of the t-shirt that rode up under where her thighs were was driving him crazy.

He couldn't resist any longer. With a trembling hand, he pulled the t-shirt up further, exposing her entire pussy to his hungry gaze. It was even more beautiful than he had imagined.

He couldn't help but to release an inaudible groan as he looked at her pretty pussy. It was the most erotic sight he had ever seen. He continued to shake her gently, "wake up, darling." His voice was hoarse before he cleared his throat. “It’s time to get dressed.”

He watched her carefully, noticing the way she stood by the bed. He walked over to the edge of the bed and sat down on it, spreading his legs apart. "Come here." His voice was soft but commanding.

His heart raced as she stood between his legs. He could feel the heat radiating off of her, making it hard for him to concentrate on anything but how much he wanted her. "We’re going to do something a bit different today," he murmured, “turn around.”

He watched her turn around despite her confusion, revealing her back to him. He then laid a hand on the middle of her back, telling her to bend over.

The t-shirt ridden up to her upper thighs as she bent over, and he bit down his bottom lip as he lifted the hem of the t-shirt to reveal her pussy again.

“Aren’t you supposed to put an underwear on me first before you do anything else?” she asked quietly.

He smirked softly, "Not this time." He leaned in closer to her, his warm breath brushing against her skin. He could feel himself trembling as he looked at her exposed pussy.

He leaned in as close as he could towards her pussy without touching her and then he inhaled deeply, smelling her pussy then his eyes rolled back in pleasure, feeling the familiar sensation of his cock swelling in his dress pants. He took a deep breath, savoring the sweet, feminine scent that bombarded his senses.

“Jonny?” His eyes refocused when he heard her sweet voice.

"Shh, darling.” He whispered. "I was just making sure everything is fine," he lied as he inhaled deeply again, his eyes closing.

Something was different last night, and it showed when he saw her differently.

[thebeautifulbook]

The large book cover painted with lacquer, colors, gold and silver from the 16th century is one of the showpieces of the Islam collection at the Museum für Kunst und Gewerbe Hamburg. It was bound in a Persian court studio and is an example of the great importance of book art within Islamic culture.

On the front and back you can see a heavenly landscape with flowering trees, birds and fighting pairs of animals. The mythical animals such as the phoenix, qilin and dragons, as well as the cloud shapes and flying cranes, betray the Chinese influence. The paint technology also comes from China. The lacquer cover, however, is a Persian invention from the late 15th Century.

source

[the-kr8tor]

Carnival date with Hobie! Going on the arcades (that are definitely rigged) enjoying cotton candy together and the Ferraris wheel!

- 💗

Thank you for the lovely prompt, angel! 😘

Pairing: Hobie Brown x fem! Reader/ Spider-Punk x fem! Reader

Word count: 1.2k

Tags: No use of Y/N, no specific physical description of the reader (Hobie is mentioned taller though), cw food mentions, Fluff

ʕ⁠·⁠ᴥ⁠·⁠ʔ

You take a giant bite of your cotton candy, the sugar bursts into your mouth like fireworks. The bright neon lights make your eyes shine, all the beeps and boops from arcade machines are reminiscent of the time when you were younger. It's cold out, an evening breeze passes by, fluttering your lashes in the wind. It's freezing but Hobie's arm around your shoulders warms you through your bones.

“Don't eat it all, give me some.” His breath fans your cheeks, it tickles you a bit. “Oi, stop gettin’ distracted. Ahhh” he opens his mouth for you, waiting for you to feed him like a baby chick.

“Get those pinchers out of my face.” You giggle, quickly feeding a dollop of the sweet treat before he chomps down on your fingers. You've learned your lesson.

“Thanks.” He says through a mouthful. You wipe the corner of his lips clean of candy. He sticks his tongue out to the side with the intention to lick your finger.

“Nope, too slow!” you quickly move your hand away to his dismay.

“I will bite your hand off, you'll see.” Hobie says with a smirk.

“Uh huh, sure. If you can catch me”

“You better start running then”

Before you could sprint through the crowd, Hobie's arms are already around your middle, lifting you a few inches off the ground effortlessly. You giggle, trying to not get a lot of attention from the public.

You blame the candy for making Hobie more hyper than he already is.

“Give me your fuckin' hand” he cranes his neck down to try and catch your it, you cross your arms on your chest, tucking your hands inside.

“Nu uh!” Hobie squeezes you, continuing to walk like he's not carrying you. “So you're just gonna manhandle me the entire night?”

“No, I'll throw you in one of those duck ponds.” He laughs loudly as you wiggle your elbow right on his abdomen. You didn't know he's ticklish there, you are definitely gonna use that information in the future.

Your eyes light up, looking at the gigantic patchwork teddy bear hanging on to one of the arcade booths. “Look at that one!”

“D’you want that? I'll get that for you, yeah?”

“No, it's fine, it's probably rigged anyway.”

He nuzzles your neck, “I'll bet you a kiss that I can win that ugly bear”

“Deal.” You kick your legs out to try to walk on your own but he doesn't let go so you let him carry you the entire way to the booth, laying your entire weight on him.

He stops in front of the milk bottle tossing booth, an old man with large glasses mans the it, he picks up fallen balls, placing them neatly inside a small bucket.

“How much, bossman?” Hobie asks, his arms still carrying you.

“Five pounds per bucket. Looks like you've won a much better prize though” he chuckles.

“Yeah, ‘m lookin' for a replacement though” he points at the bear with his chin. His comment doesn't fly over you though, you huff, kneading his stomach with your elbow. Hobie yelps, letting you go. “See that, bossman? Need that bear more than ever.”

You make a mocking face, Hobie suddenly has an intense urge to pinch your nose. But he doesn't, maybe he'll do it once you two get home.

He hands the old man the bills in exchange for the bucket.

“You've got four tries to bring the three pyramids down. You do that and you get the bear.” The old man explains.

“That easy?” Hobie says smugly.

The man chuckles, the same smug smile on his lips. “That easy. Good luck.”

Hobie turns to you as he's weighing the baseball in his hand. “Kiss for good luck?”

“I thought that was for after winning my prize?” despite you declining, you lean to press a chaste kiss on his cheek. “Good luck and don't overdo it or you might give the man a heart attack.” You whisper close to his ear.

“And here I was preparing my arm to rocket this ball out of here” he chases your face, capturing your forehead in a quick but tender kiss.

You poke his side, smiling as he takes aim. His arm extended like he's a professional, his muscles tensing through his shirt. You'd be lying if you said you weren't ogling him. Before Hobie throws the ball, he winks at you all suave, waking the butterflies in your stomach.

Clang!

The first pyramid bottle falls loudly. Hobie looks at you with a mischievous smirk, wordlessly saying. ‘I've got this’

He takes another ball, preparing to launch it. As you predicted, he turns his head towards you again but you're prepared this time, winking at him sweetly before he could do it.

He almost misses the bottles.

You tamp down your laugh when he looks back at you with a ‘how dare you’ face. You look at him innocently, fluttering your lashes.

After all that though, one after the other the bottles fall easily, the old man shifts uncomfortably, scratching his head. He surrenders, handing Hobie the bear.

“Told you I'll win it for you” the bear gets squished in the middle as Hobie tries his best to embrace you with the fluffy wall in between.

“I knew you had it,” you lean up so he could claim his prize. “You have super strength, cheater.” you say against his lips, he could only get a fraction of a second of your lips before you pulled away. He blinks, shaking his head.

“Thought we had a deal?”

“Claim it in the ferris wheel?”

“You cheeky fucker”

—

After lining up for the ride and numerous bites of a shared funnel cake, you and Hobie hop on to the pod, the capsule shakes as he pushes in the bear to fit inside. The worker manning the ride sighs exasperatedly.

Hobie sits it across from you, scooching to make way for him, he sighs, all tired out from the labour.

The worker closes the door, the ferris wheel starts up, slowly moving your pod up.

“Your bear is on thin ice” He glares at the toy, the fluffy head tilting comedically. You laugh while Hobie casually snakes his arm around your shoulders, bringing you Impossibly closer to the already small space.

You don't mind it though, laying your head on his shoulder, reaching blindly for his hand, he half hugs you, bringing your knuckles to his lips.

“You good?” his voice muffled by your skin.

“Better than good. Happy” you inhale his cologne, relaxing your muscles. You swear you're melting on the spot. “You?”

“You already know the answer, lovie” he cranes his neck closer to you, ignoring the ache in his nape. Hobie then presses a handful of kisses on your temple, each one sweeter than the last. He holds off with his joke about pushing the bear off the ride.

The ferris wheel halts to a stop when your pod reaches the top, you cling tighter to Hobie. The view takes your breath away, the shining lights below look like stars, the skyline looms on your right, just seeing it makes you crave web swinging with Hobie. Maybe you'll ask him about it later.

The ride starts back up again with a sudden lunge, a mechanical whirring in the background. You yelp, Hobie grips your shoulder, circling his thumb over your skin comfortably.

“I've got you.” He reassures.

“I know you do” You squeeze him, moving his face downward by his chin, guiding him closer to your lips.

[updownlately]

i like shiny things (but i'd marry you with paper rings)

randomly thinking about esme morgan and how she made bracelets for the engwnt during their down time and just picturing a reader x alessia where r does origami when they're anxious or in between games. idk if anyone's written this idea before so mb if it's repetitive (i feel like i read an origami-reader fic before but i believe it was with jessie fleming x r) not a fic, not a blurb, just an idea/storyline :) fun fact: an instagram reel prompted this 😅 | alessia russo x reader

~~~

like imagine the first time alessia walks into your shared hotel room to see a handful of paper cranes of different colours laid across the bed, your tongue poking out slightly, eyebrows furrowed as you had a website open on your phone showing you how to make a dragon.

and you're so concentrated you don't hear alessia come in, you just fiddle with the paper and let out a huff when you realize you have to unwind the folds you just did.

it's only when she clears her throat at you, still standing near the door that you snap out of what you're doing, eyes going wide, the dinosaur that looks more like a worm flying out of your hands.

and you'd look at her with an embarrassed look, quickly gathering the seven or so different paper cranes, bringing them towards your lap in a futile attempt to hide em, as alessia would watch you with a fond smile on her face.

or can we talk about how she'd quietly get you more origami paper the next time she goes out with the girls to explore the city, shyly coming back with a fresh pack of origami sheets, this time in pastel colours, shades you absolutely adored.

the way she'd enter the room anxiously, thumb playing with the ring on her finger as she'd hide the package behind her with her other hand, shoulder's curled in, skittish smile on her face.

how you'd wave her in, a huge smile on her face, not suspecting a thing as you chatted with your mother on the phone.

she'd maybe sit on the edge of the bed, a few feet away from you, the papers still hidden as you'd talk animatedly on the phone for a couple more minutes.

it's during that time that alessia would cast her gaze across the room, taking in how many different little paper creations, varying from flowers to cranes to butterflies to shapes like stars and hearts littered the room, smiling tenderly to herself.

and when you'd finish up the call, looking over at the blonde with a large grin on your face you'd already be excited by her mere presence, your golden retriever personality making itself known.

that grin would only grow wider as she would shuffle closer to you, the origami sheets still miraculously hidden (not hard to do really since all your focus was on alessia, your eyes nearly in the shape of a heart) and she'd give you a gentle kiss on your forehead and then lips, before pulling back shyly, the words quiet as they left her.

'i got you a little something...'

you'd tilt your head in question, a singular eyebrow raising as you'd finally notice how her other arm was somewhat awkwardly positioned behind her.

and you'd kind of tense up into a sitting position, concerned at what it could be.

'relax, it's nothing crazy, just a small little item i've been meaning to grab for you'

the words would be gentle, with a slight teasing lilt.

and she'd carefully present you the origami sheets, placing them on the sheet between you two, biting her lip nervously as she'd wait for a reaction.

your eyebrows would scrunch up immediately, hands reaching out to grab the plastic package, examining it as your jaw would drop in a pleasant mix of shock and joy.

and the way your eyes would widen as you'd read the text on around the item, the words 'origami paper' written clear as day, your heart feeling so full, warmth coursing through your veins as you'd realize that alessia had noticed your stack was running out, even going as far as to get them in colours you loved.

the papers would gently be thrown to the side as everything would click, you launching yourself at the blonde, arms coming to immediately wrap around her shoulders and neck as you'd bury your face in her neck.

your excited 'thank you' would be muffled with how tightly you were hugging her, your grin from earlier returning, only now it was nearly twice the size.

the blonde would chuckle gently at your delighted state, hugging you back with just as much enthusiasm, placing a gentle kiss to your temple just before you'd pull back, nearly shaking with elation.

placing a few loving kisses onto her lips you'd mumble another thank you in between them, pulling away once your couldn't contain your excitement.

and you'd rip into the new packaging, old papers be damned because your girlfriend got you these and they were immediately, undoubtedly the better papers now.

and eventually, as it would become time to check out of the hotel a few days later, alessia would find herself once again standing in the middle of the room, this time the whole room nearly taken over by butterflies, dragons (which you now finally mastered), toads, cranes, rabbits, stars, hearts, chains, and like twenty other things, some in various colours of the rainbow, and more than half of them made of the pastel origami sheets. (it was clear to see you had a favourite, evident by the way nearly half the pastel paper had already been used).

and then can we talk about how maybe you both would be coming back from a really tiring game, the whole engwnt sat on the bus, the two of you choosing to sit closer to the middle-front-ish area, alessia knowing you preferred the peace and quiet as you'd fold paper and calm down from the exhilarating events of the game.

so you'd sit there, a pair of wired earbuds shared between you two as the paper pad would be precariously balancing on your thighs, rattling with every bump and uneven surface of the road.

alessia would be sat beside you, watching you with a lovestruck face as you'd continue to do fold after fold, making something new this time, what it was, alessia didn't know, you wanting to surprise her.

what she did notice however was that you had two pieces of paper out, one that was her favourite colour, and one that was your favourite colour- surely that couldn't be a coincidence, right?

and as teammates saw you back at your usual task, very much accustomed to your tendency to relax by creating little items, they let you be, a few gently requesting you for a rabbit or dragon (stanway nearly begging you to make her dinosaur, pestering you until you had finally agreed with a quiet 'later' with a fond eye roll).

you'd been very much focused since though, head nodding along to the music, the familiar 'furrowed eyebrows' look on your face, tip of your tongue peeking out as you did meticulous fold after fold, tilting your body ever so slightly so alessia couldn't make out exactly what you were creating.

it was only when you were done, two small heart rings resting in the palm of your hand, one each in your and alessia's favourite colour, did you turn around, a bashful smile on your face as you hid the two papers in a loosely closed fist.

quickly scanning to make sure no one was watching, your fear of being teased for your sappiness emerging, your leg shook with nervous energy as you realized the coast was clear.

'i made you- us- i made us paper rings in our favourite colours.'

the words would come out slightly rushed, a soft blush coming to coat your cheeks as alessia's eyes widened in joyful shock,

'i'll get you a proper one eventually, this is just a promise of that in the meantime...'

and alessia would shrug at your words, a lovesick smile crossing her face as she'd examine the heart-shaped ring intently, absolutely adoring the way it rested on her hand, loving it more than any other jewellery she owned simply because it was made by you.

and placing the ring-clad hand up to rest on your cheek, the blonde would nudge you to look at her, bringing your faces close as she'd place a gentle but loving kiss on your lips, pulling back only a few centimetres as sky blue eyes would meet yours, her next words a whispered secret between you, eliciting twin smiles, lovestruck looks crossing both of your faces.

'as long as it's you i'm marrying, i'd happily do it with paper rings.'

[mutant-distraction]

The sarus crane (Antigone antigone) is a large nonmigratory crane found in parts of the Indian subcontinent, Southeast Asia, and northern Australia. The tallest of the flying birds, standing at a height of up to 1.8 m (5 ft 11 in), they are a conspicuous species of open wetlands in South Asia, seasonally flooded Dipterocarpus forests in Southeast Asia, and Eucalyptus-dominated woodlands and grasslands in Australia -Wikipedia