#like the most unexpected solution is the right one or something

[just-spacetrash]

🤨

[call-sign-shark]

Of Bending and Breaking || Tommy Shelby x Reader

Summary: Always being the one who cares for others comes with a price: you break down, but the most unexpected person is here for you: Tommy, the man you were forced to marry.

Words: 2,3k

TW: Hurt/Comfort, very tiny mention of past sexual assault, no proofreading 'cause it comes from clearing my drafts.

Notes: Aunt Isabella's is a tribute to my own aunt Isabelle who, unfortunately, died because of cancer a few years ago.

It all started with Polly shaking Tommy like a tree, her thin hands firmly grabbing his nephew’s broad shoulders: “You can’t keep sabotaging yourself like this, Tom.” These were the words that left her quivering lips as she dragged his staggering frame to the bathroom and pushed his face into the bathtub right under the tap. When the freezing water splashed all over his neck, Tommy opened his blank eyes wide and inhaled sharply, as if he had suddenly come back to life. Since Grace’s awful death, the gangster was the shadow of his former self. When he wasn’t waging a senseless war with Father Hughes and the Italian, or when he wasn’t keeping his buzzing mind busy with work, Tommy usually numbed himself with a deadly combination of whisky and opium until his deep-seated pain became bearable. It was the night he almost overdosed that Polly decided to take charge of his nephew and found him a new wife, in the hope of soothing his nephew’s mind and finding a mother figure for poor little Charlie. The idea had obviously sent Tommy in a fit of anger but Polly Gray couldn’t care less.

Regarding your own situation, it was not the opium nor the loss of a dear lover that had led you to Birmingham’s most dangerous man but rather the bump in your belly. Aunt Isabella had understood what you were suffering from the moment you had stormed out of the vardo to throw up your breakfast in the nearest bush. The tall and lean woman, whose light brown and curly mane danced in the cold autumn wind, had looked at you right in the eyes and raised one of her thin eyebrows. If there was something pleasant with her, it was that words weren’t necessary.

Yet, later she encountered Polly, with whom she had been a great friend since childhood, and explained that a powerful American man had forced his seeds in you during his stay in England. Not willing to go through the traumatic experience of aborting, Isabella only saw one solution to your problem: you needed a husband who could protect you and your future baby from the evil man with his scarred lip. A wedding would be your salvation. At the realization of what Aunt Isabella had planned for you, you tried to run away from the camp in the middle of the night but she knew you too well and soon caught you, her sly hand firmly grabbing your wrist: “Y/N! It’s for your sake! He’s rich, he needs a wife and he is feared! You’ll be safe with him, don’t you understand?” She explained, cupping your face with her long fingers adorned with claws painted in red and far too many rings. “I don’t need a man to protect me! I don’t need anyone. He’s older and he’s a criminal! Who’s going to protect me from him eh? Have you think ‘bout that?” You cried, the soft light of the sunrise turning your tears into liquid gold.

But still, you wedded him and what was supposed to be the happiest day of your life turned out to be a dull event during which you dissociated the whole time. The only memories you had in mind were two piercing and frightening turquoise eyes staring right at your soul and soft whiskey-tasting lips stealing a quick peck from your cherry lips. A kiss devoid of any form of affection. And then, the groom left.

From what Aunt Isabella told you, your husband had spent most of the celebrations with his brothers, drinking and taking bets outside of Arrow House. Months had passed and still, you felt estranged to this place and its staff. The only moments your heart lightened were when Aunt Isabella visited you, or when Charlie spent time with you, otherwise you remained emotionally closed, trapped in your own mind. Overall you could not complain: You had a house far too big for you with plenty of workers willing to exhaust every one of your wishes. Charlie was a sweet boy, who loved you with all his heart even if you were well aware that you’ll never replace his mother. As for the Shelby clan, they were cordial with you without being really friendly either. And there was Tommy…

Cold and distant Tommy, who you only saw late at night when he discretely slipped under the bedsheet and turned his back to you without uttering a single word. Busy Tommy, whose replies remained concise and spoken with a quiet husky voice each time you asked him something — at least he talked to you a little bit. Trapped in a loveless marriage, that was what you were: Tommy was more a stranger, a mere gust of wind in your life, than the love of your life.

Still, the gangster stayed true to his words and he provided for everything, never refusing to give you money when you asked, and protecting you from the man who had taken your innocence. He even gifted you a wonderful stallion because he knew how much you missed riding. In exchange for his protection and riches, all you had to do was take care of Charlie and do your best to be there for your husband when his darkness threatened to swallow him whole.

You found out about the nightmares shortly after your wedding and quickly decided to do something about it. When he woke up screaming and drenched in sweat after tasting the tunnels’ dirt and Grace’s crimson blood in his troubled sleep, you always cradle him, your fingers losing themselves in his wet dark hair to pet his head gently. At first, you feared his reaction, expecting the infamous Tommy Shelby to push you and not-so-kindly ask you to keep your distance but, to your greatest surprise, he never did. Instead, he would bury his face in your cleavage, panting and trembling, and let you reassure him. Just like he let you bring dinner to him each time he drowned himself in paperwork and forgot to eat. He never commented on your cooking skills though, even if he always handed back empty plates.

The blood on his skin? You cleaned it.

The wounds of his flesh? You never failed to patched them up.

The hole in his heart? You tried to seal it off with caresses, soft kisses, and shoulder massages. Maybe one day he would slowly turn his iciness into affection. Little did you know that he needed it. And by it he needed you. Just like the whole family. How many times did you walk the streets of Birmingham at night, seeking for Arthur and then bringing him home to take care of a wasted and high him? Far too many to keep track. Similarly, you had spent countless evenings helping Ada when she felt overwhelmed, either nursing Karl or cleaning her house when, just like her brother, she overworked herself. And finally, Polly could never thank you enough for everything you did to soothe her mind after the gallows, still haunted by the bite of the hanging rope on her throat.

��Thanks Poppy.” Arthur muttered, the gravel in his voice coated with shame now that you were down clearing and disinfecting his split knuckles. The oldest brother had started to affectionately call you so for the sole reason that, according to him, you must probably grow better when blood was considering how much you had seen when patching the Shelby siblings. “Sorry for errr… For the mess.” He went on, his steel blue eyes fleeing yours.

“That’s okay.” You replied in Romani, “You, sweet idiot.” Endeared by how surprisingly soft Arthur’s harsh complexions could turn, you couldn’t help but gently put your hand on one of his cheeks. And during this tender display of affection, Arthur was convinced he had caught sight of a smile — a scarce event barely happening on your beautiful but resigned face. Comforted by the warmth of your palm, he leaned into your touch and looked at you through dark lashes, his lids half-closed.

“Tommy’s one lucky bastard to have ya for himself, eh."

"Let's both flee together then." You teased, the familiar tone of Romani language rendered even more melodious by your siren-like voice.

"Don't tempt me, little one." Arthur replied, softer than intended and probably only half-joking.

The oldest Shelby brother had barely closed the door when your smile disappeared and tears flooded your eyes. Admittedly, spending months of repressing your own anguish didn’t do any good to you despite thinking that focusing on others would have helped. Quite the contrary, all those negative emotions you had left on the back burner turned into a silent and deadly parasite that was eating you up. Dragging your tired frame to the cold and empty marital bedroom, you curled up in a ball in a corner of the room, your bruised knees pressed against your chest, “Positive. You gotta stay positive and push forwards y’see Y/N? Do the right things for the family…” You whispered to yourself as your breath started to quicken for the ball of sorrow in your throat was growing more and more. Yes, you had to smile and say that all was just fine because you knew you were lucky to be here and that you hadn’t any real reason to complain now according to the rest of the world. And yet, the truth was you were tired. So tired and overwhelmed by everything around you. With your wild soul trapped here in the mighty walls of Arrow House, you could not help but drown in an excruciating feeling of worthlessness.

You were lost in a world too difficult for you to understand. Lost and unprepared for a life that asked for too much. When you were living in the vardo with Aunt Isabella life seemed so much easier despite the lack of money and, sometimes, food. Prior to your wedding, she used to tell you that everything would become clear once you’d be a wife and a mother. You’d be an adult adult, you see? But she lied. They all lied. Even with a husband and kids, you still felt like a scared and confused child, who wanted to hide under the blanket of her warm bed and never face the world ever again. These concerns of yours? You never shared because you wanted the Shelby to keep seeing you as a reassuring presence— moreover, God knew how much their broken hearts needed your silent care.

Bringing your trembling fingers to your mouth, you muffled a first sob, convinced it would be enough to keep you from crying. What you didn’t expect was to burst into tears, uncontrollably weeping. After all this time forcing yourself to be strong, your mind had enough. As your heart-wrenching cries echoed in the room they muffled Tommy’s footsteps that were coming closer and closer. When the door flung open, you did not even move, lost in a spiral of pain and psychological exhaustion.

“Y/N?!” Tommy called you, his usual coldness swept away by a surge of panic. He closed the distance between you and him with hastened steps, and put one of his knees on the floor to be at your level, “What’s wrong, ay?” His husky voice asked, worries thickening his Brummie accent even more. You hiccuped and raised your flooded eyes towards him, parting your lips to answer. Yet, as soon as your gaze met his turquoise iris you started weeping again, louder this time. Words were at a loss by dint of never having the chance to express what you felt throughout your life. “Bloody Hell, Y/N! Speak!” Tommy hissed, his heart now drumming in his chest at the sight of his young and always-so-strong wife crumbling in bits in front of him. Never in his life, he had felt so powerless, not even in the tunnels… And, God, he hated it.

“N-nothing. I don’t… I don’t even know it’s just that— I’m so fucking tired, and lost, and confused, and afraid!” You spoke with a very fast pace, spitting years and years of repressed emotions flowing from you all the while feeling deeply ashamed of your mental breakdown. When you were done venting, you simply turned your head and waved off the topic, tears still rolling down your reddened cheeks “Anyway! You’ve got — more important things to do.”

“Stop it, Y/N,” He scolded, low voice rumbling in his chest. His strong and calloused hands, damaged by the war and hard work, cupped your face with a softness you didn’t know he possessed. For the first time in your life, his grip felt utterly reassuring as if you knew these scarred palms were not going to let you fall apart. Never. “You’re what’s important right now.” With that being said, Tommy leaned his forehead against yours and his enchanting eyes soon met yours to force you to focus on nothing else but the vast blue oceans which composed them. “I want you to calm down.”

“I can’t, I can’t—“ You tried to speak but you couldn’t, struggling to breathe under the crushing weight of your panic attack. Your mouth gaped, looking for the oxygen it couldn’t find.

“Oi!” Tommy said louder. So loud that his voice managed to overcome the cacophony of your beating heart and the buzzing sound of your anxiety that filled your head, “I want you to breathe with me, Y/N. Alright? You can do that for me, ay?” He asked, his eyebrows slightly frowned and charming crowfeet appearing at the corner of his eyes — how odd it was to see Tommy’s face veiled with something else than unsettling placidity. Caught off guard by the sudden realization of how close he was, you quieted down a little bit and soon followed the pattern of his breathing.

One long inhale through the nose, one longer exhale through the mouth, and a short pose.

Do it again.

Your shaky hands slowly grabbed his wrists in a desperate attempt to anchor you to reality. This, as well as the focus you had on his mesmerizing complexions.

His long dark lashes — you inhaled slowly.

His cat-like turquoise iris — you exhaled.

His salient cheekbones — You stopped breathing for a very short while.

The myriad of freckles — “Breathe with me, Y/N.”

The soft, hoarse lilt guided you through the dark and thick fog of your own brain, just like a lighthouse. Coming back to clearer waters, your body finally relaxed and fell almost limp in his arms. And once again he caught you, keeping you all safe against his chest. Tommy’s voice, low and steady, resonated one last time in the bedroom with a reassuring warmth as he uttered the simple yet powerful phrase, "I'm here." Each word carefully enunciated, carrying a quiet strength that soothed and reassured, like a comforting anchor in a stormy sea.

Keep your writers motivated: Reblog and/or comment if you liked it, you filthy animal! o/ English is not my first language btw.

Taglist: @adaydreamaway08 @theshelbyclan @jomarch-wannabe @esposadomd @zablife @woofgocows @anathemasworld @anastasia000 @kate654 @kxnnxy @babayaga67 @meowtastick @shelbyssins @sarai-ibn-la-ahad @bluevenus19 @raincoffeeandfandoms @kishie8 @zablife @alexandra-001 @dearshelby @alexizodd @helen06dreamer @kmc1989 @emotionalcadaver @peakyswritings @peakyltd @chaosinkest1996 @vanhelsingsbigtoe @red-riding-wood

[hazelfoureyes]

Alastor in Rut (one shot)

Rutting Alastor x Fem Rabbit Reader

Less than confident and lacking much in the way of assertiveness, you find hell to be scary. But, a very kind and helpful deer demon has a solution! Just in time, as an unexpected rut hits him and he feels the need to reel you in.

this is pure self indulgence. Shout out to @jazzmasternot , @lustylita , @sugoi-writes , and @minkdelovely for keeping me sane and horny (with art lol)

「Warnings/Promises: actual warning - mentions of accidental vehicular homicide and reader's death, Marathon Smut, p in v, finger almost in a?, anal is considered, knotting because fuck it, attempt at breeding, womb flooded, not dubcon but everyone in the hotel thinks it is, slightly repetitive fucking because he wont waste semen on other holes, Alastor would fuck anyone but you’re the most amusing, Alastor doesn’t think he’s the good guy which is honestly kinda cute, deadass talk about making you carry his fawns?? Why is it so hot?? Knock me up deer man bleat bleat bitch, implied previous relationship with a human man, plans to cuckold your ex, heat, blue fire isn’t hot, you’re tricked into a deal with Alastor, kinda size kink, demon Alastor, minor aftercare, a little sexual choking (as a treat)」

Hey--- we're all here for something. This is 10000 words, 5300 or so is smut. Smut starts at the bright green divider for you impatient and horny deeries.

MINORS YOU KNOW THE DRILL DNI

The line for reception was long, but that was to be expected. After the extermination ended early and Adam killed on television by a maid, the Hazbin Hotel had been busy. Or so you overheard others saying. You’d only been in hell a day, lucky enough to catch the advertisements and hear the gossip for the hotel soon after your descent.

You recognized the princess immediately, but not that tall man beside her. He wasn’t doing anything, just staring and smiling. Was he friendly? Were there friendly people in hell? Truly friendly. Not high school girl friendly. Or hungry witch friendly. He had witch vibes.

“Hiya welcome to the”, she took a deep breath in, “Hazbin Hotel! I am Charlie! This is Alastor! What did you do to bring you to hell? Gotta know so we can cater your redemption activities to your sins!”

She was staring at you so happily, pen over paper. Your eyes nervously shot to the man, who leaned down in response.

“I fell asleep driving and killed someone, and myself.”

Everything about Charlie was frozen still except the sudden glossiness forming over her eyes. “You… you… were you like, a thief or… did you…… push old ladies into traffic?”

You shook your head no.

“Gluttonous? She asked.

“No, I wasn’t a fan of overindulgence.”

“Prideful, then?” 

“Unfortunately… I don’t think too highly of myself. Living or dead.” Your hand came to your down turned rabbit ears, sad and limp. Even in death you weren’t the right kind of anything.

“Uhh,” Charlie clicked her pen furiously again and again, “Lustful?”

“Just the one partner. My highschool sweetheart.”

A sweat was forming on Charlie’s brow, “Sloth?”

“I did fall asleep behind the wheel… but it was from working 25 hours of overtime this week.”

Charlie put the pen down, “I don’t think you belong in hell. You made an accident. That’s not how sins should work…”

Your eyes bore holes into the desk, avoiding eye contact, “I don’t think heaven cares much about that.”

“Poor thing. Let’s circle back, Charlie.” Alastor’s large hand rested on your head, patting twice. 

She nodded, “Good call. I’ll just,” her tongue stuck out as she began to write, “make a new category just for you! Other.”

Yeah that made sense, you thought. That was fitting. This truly was hell. Finally you stood out, as the one who didn’t fit in. You supposed that’s what a wallflower deserved for murder. 

“Follow me little one.”  The tall Alastor instructed you as he snatched a key from the hook and walked past you.

Happily. Small tail uncontrollably swishing as you followed a foot behind him.

A hum of approval, Alastor noticing the distance you kept.

“You obey instructions well.”

You always did. “Thank you.” Tiny and soft, your response made his shadow shift and smile.

It wasn’t a compliment, but the fact you took it as one interested him. Subservient. 

Fun. 

“I take it that you really were a good girl in life, weren’t you?” He swiveled on his heels to face you, the sudden change causing your face to run into his lower chest.

A song of apologies fell from your mouth as you backed up, tripping over your own pathetic attempts at platitude and falling back onto your ass.

He was tall before but now he towered over your, hand outstretched to help you up. You offered a thank you before taking it.

Clawed fingers tightened around your palm. Not letting you pull away. “You’re new to hell, right?”

A glance around, no one else in the hallway, “Is it obvious?”

“Yes. But also, you mentioned work this week.”

A nod, “It’s been maybe a day.”

Delicious.

“Could I offer you some advice?” He leaned down, hand tightening further. Wide eyed and a little frightened with the change in atmosphere, you just nodded again. “It’s very dangerous out there for little prey animals like yourself.”

“Aren’t you also a prey animal?”

His hand uncurled.

A moment of tension, Alastor leaning down further.

A strange sound was coming from his microphone, the best approximation you had was a car radio going haywire skipping through the channels.

“Room 243!” His body popped up and he held the key out for you. The hallway lights seemed to be glowing brighter now.

You grabbed the key, “Thank you!”

Two fourty three was just past him. A small tremble kept you from getting the key in on your first and even second try. 

You didn’t even stop to turn on the light, just pushing the door closed behind you as soon as your body was through the threshold.

The relief barely left with a sigh when you heard it, “You know…”

Frozen, your eyes adjusted to the darkness enough to see the shining of his red and pink eyes in front of you.

“I’m somewhat of a deal maker. For a small price, I could help you. Perhaps, you’d like a change of appearance?” His voice seemed to be coming from the walls, above and beside you all at once.

Something lifted a floppy ear. But his eyes were too far from you for it to have been his own hands. A small scream as you smacked at the appendage.

“What do you say? I can use a little magic to make you happier with your new form.” A dark whisper into your right ear. 

Your hands flew to your head before you dropped to your knees to escape the hidden things touching you. 

“What do you want?” To your left now. “Let’s make a trade. A deal.” Above your head. 

His eyes were gone. Just darkness and a soft laugh echoing around you.

Your mind was reeling through possible answers, what did you want? At that moment? In general? 

An answer tumbled out, too quietly.

“Hmm?” His eyes reappeared closer to you and glowing a bloody red. “Speak up, my ears are quite a bit higher than your mouth.”

A second attempt, “Safety. I wanna be safe.” The laughter got louder, mocking you without words.

“A little tougher of an ask.” The sound of something slithering near your feet made you pull your knees tighter to your chest. “But! I’m here to please. In exchange for protection from the more nefarious of hell’s citizens I’ll need something worth my while.”

Of course, that is how deals work, right? A promise with compensation. 

“I don’t have any money, or possessions yet. Maybe I should try again later?” You were lost in the light of his stare and found the darkness deepening around him.

A considered hum, “Well, you’re already dead. You’ve no need for your soul. Damned as it is, give it to me instead. To keep safe. And I’ll always answer your calls for rescue when in harm's way.”

Why would…what use was a soul, you wondered. Was he right? But if he wanted it, surely it had value. You were too new to this world, scared to say yes and part with what little you had. 

At the risk of angering the demon in the darkness of your room, you whispered to yourself and hoped he would hear it, “I think I shouldn’t.”

Hissing in your ear, “Disappointing.”

The lights flickered on, an empty room. A bed. A nightstand. A closet. A bathroom. No tall smiling dealmaker.

A tremor stayed in your hands through the night. 

To your surprise, when you ran into Alastor the next day he was more than kind. He was eavesdropping when you asked Charlie if the hotel needed any staff. Not only did you want to be of use, you were hoping to earn some money. He quickly slid beside Charlie suggesting things you could do. 

Wow, you thought. He didn’t hold a grudge at all. Maybe he had been trying to help before? 

It took a few weeks, but you found a groove. You were a floater between the staff, helping Husk with the restocking of his bar, following behind Niffty with supplies her tiny arms couldn’t carry, and keeping notes for the activities Charlie held. It was vital for you to feel needed and everyone seemed happy to have you around. Hell wasn’t so bad.

“Dear,” Alastor found you holding a basket of towels in the hallway on a rather standard weekday, “I need an errand runner. Do you mind?”

You had been finding Alastor’s presence enjoyable, a little secret you held. He was always smiling, which made you smile in turn. And his manners, well, perfect. You couldn’t understand why such a sweet man was in hell, but then you considered you were also in hell. Mistakes happen, perhaps he was also damned by technicalities. 

Not that you would ask him, you barely spoke a word to the deer demon. Every time he was around you your throat would close up. Oftentimes you would pull your hands behind your back to shield the wiggle of your too-honest tail. 

When he would speak to you, you would get so focused on the sound of his voice and watching his mouth move you’d actually not hear a damn thing he said. You must have looked like an absolute airhead, always replying, “What?” every time he finished a statement. 

“Hellooo, anyone home in there?” He knocked gently on your skull. Ah, those big hands again. He watched the pink bloom across your cheeks, your hands coming to your ears to pull them down as your mind wandered off.  A snap of his fingers finally brought you back.

“Sorry, what?” Your eyes were bright as you finally made the journey all the way up to his face.

“Welcome back. I need some stuff picked up from a shop downtown. I can’t leave right now, mind hopping over for me?” The grin he offered you made you melt.

“Of course!” That damn tail shaking behind you, “What am I picking up?”

He waved his hand, “Not important, it’ll be all wrapped up and waiting.” The radio effect of his voice grew, “I’ll write down the address.”

Terrible handwriting. You could barely read it, but didn’t want to insult him so you just nodded as he followed you to the doors. Pausing, you realized it was your first time leaving the hotel alone. 

“What’s wrong? Not up to it?”

You shook your head, “No! I can do it. Thank you.”

A pounding in your chest made you question if you were actually dead. But despite your concerns, no one bothered you beyond some catcalling and intense glares. Staring at the paper, you struggled to decipher the address. Was that a 7 or a 1? A 4 or a 9…? You were in the general area, the street name lined up and the first couple numbers of the address too.

You brought the paper closer to your face, maybe if you really inspected it you could figure it out. 

A shriek, dropping the paper to felt a small goblin-like creature pushing at your knees. Another, then another, began to appear from the shadows of the street. Black and white little creatures pushing and pulling at your legs until you tumbled over.

“Help!” You thought it was a shout, but it came out as a soft spoken request, the tone itself adding a ‘please’ to the end. 

They weren’t hurting you, just knocking you over every time you tried to stand up like grade school bullies. You managed, the creatures relenting momentarily before a stockier one materialized. A step back, what did they want? Money? You pulled out your wallet and opened it but the large one smacked it to the ground. 

That quick heart skipped a beat when your back hit against something solid. As your head bent backwards, you could see those red and pink eyes looming over you. 

“Oh dear. Trouble already?” 

You could cry. You did cry, a little, at the sight of a familiar face. With a flourish of his hands, those previously unseen tendrils whipped from his back and flung the aimless attackers away. 

Rescue! You hugged his waist, a chorus of ‘thank yous’ and ‘Oh, Alastor!’ into his chest. 

“Now now, can’t even be a proper task rabbit. You really do need some safeguarding.” He peeled you off him, brushing his coat off. Your mind thought back to the offer. “And I don’t see my purchase… didn’t complete the task either?”

You shrunk, you’d entirely failed him. His smirk was one sided, eyes half lidded and expression dramatically disappointed. Alastor sighed and turned to walk away from you. You’d let him down. He’d been nothing but accommodating and gentle.

“I’m sorry! Alastor!” You grabbed his wrist, eyes shut so you didn’t see the green glow of arcane symbols floating up around him. “Can I please have that deal? Please. I’m sorry, you have my soul as payment.”

Painless, selling your soul. With a handshake, a little light show, and a whirling of magic, you had done it.

“Excellent choice!” Alastor patted your head, “I’ll come to your aid when you’re scared for your life! Aaaand in return, your soul is mine. Easy peasy, yes?”

Fine, not an issue in the slightest. “Do I need to do anything?”

“About what?” His eyes wandered to inspect his fingernails.

“My soul.”

A barking laugh, “No. You’re tied to me now, dear. As for my end, just call my name when you’re in danger and I’ll,” a flourish of his talons, “rescue you.” His smile strained as he peered down at your little face, “Why are you crying?”

“I’m so happy to have the help, thank you Alastor! You really are just, amazing. Your mother raised you right.” Your hands were holding your cheeks, grateful and feeling a little less alone.

The mention of his mother made his back straighten, a bloom in his chest he knew all too well to be pride. Finally, someone was vocalizing his better qualities. Well, other than Charlie. But impressing Charlie was like making a dog think you’d thrown a ball. Just a little quick whirl of your hands and a couple sweet words with a smile and she’d be all wagging tail as she ran to retrieve nothing. 

But he supposed you were very much like Charlie, easily tricked and distracted. Had you really not noticed those goons were his? Or that the address wasn’t real? Were you stupid or naive? His head fell to the side unnaturally as he watched you talk. He wasn’t listening, though. He took in your features, slight but average. His hand came out absentmindedly and felt at one of your long and limp ears. He didn’t see you blush or caught how you stiffened. 

Naive. Terribly naive.

Perfectly usable. 

He dropped your ear and turned to leave. “I won’t rescue you twice in one day. Best to follow me home if you value your life.”

︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶

You hadn’t told anyone about the deal, a secret for yourself to keep. Partly because you were embarrassed you needed the help, and partly because you had been warned extensively to not make a deal with the deer demon. Everyone had such a peculiar idea of Alastor, it seemed to you. Even after making a deal, he was still…Alastor. Always offering a joke, or playing something jaunty in the shared spaces. You could vent and whine and Alastor would hum as he read. Always offering a gentle pat to the head when you were sad or did something he liked. 

So when Alastor suddenly left the group in a sweat, hands shaking and body rocking slightly side to side, you were quick to follow behind him. He bumped off the walls a couple of times before making it to his room and falling forward past the threshold. 

You waited for the door to close before running down the hall and knocking. 

“Are you alright?” You pressed your cheek against the wood and listened for any reply. 

Alastor was still on the floor when you knocked, which worked out well. He leaned against the door, ears flat with his condition. He took a deep breath, voice dropping an octave and carrying easily to you, “Just— an out of season rut. Unexpected and unwelcome. Without any does nearby it’s quite odd.”

“Oh, are deer not like rabbits? Rabbit does are always in estrus! Mating actually triggers their ovulation. Neat, huh?” Silence, Alastor’s ears turned forward focusing on every other word.

Does, always, oestrus

Mating, triggers, ovulation 

“I had pet rabbits when I was little. Isn’t that funny though? That they’re also called does.” You worried he thought you were weirdly interested in rabbit sex. “We had them as pets. So….,” a silence you misinterpreted as awkward.

Alastor tapped a long claw on the door before dragging it down the wood. A line was etched behind, “Is that so?”

You knelt down to get comfortable, “How long will it last?”

“Ah, hard to say. I've only suffered through a few. Alone, perhaps a week.”

“That sounds terrible.”

“With an appropriate partner, a deer demon would rut for two days. One for mating with his doe, one for guarding his doe from rivals who could still interfere with conception.”

His doe. You both found your throat running dry at the words. 

You nodded, “Oh wow, I guess that’s why you always see bucks locked together in fights.”

“Precisely.”

“But...can sinners actually conceive?” You gulped, the idea was a little naughty to you. The entire conversation was actually making you uncomfortable. The kind of discomfort that made your breath pick up. The kind of discomfort that shifted to hunger with just a few words or a well placed look.

“No, but that doesn’t matter. Once fully in the hold of a rut or heat, demons aren’t motivated by logic.”

You nodded again, forgetting he couldn’t see you. “Oh okay…” the idea of Alastor rutting into his own hand desperate to fill a womb made your knees come together. “Must be hard for you. As an asexual.”

A hum, confusion breaking his creeping fog for a second, “A sexual what?”

“Nevermind.” You shook your head, shaking off the topic with the motion.

Alastor could smell your arousal wafting under the door. A feverish chill ran through him, drawing the fog back into the recesses of his mind.

“Well… I’ll let you rest. I know you can’t call me, so I’ll stop by to see if you need anything.”

His mouth opened to correct you— he could call you in a sense, and he didn’t need help as he had minions he could summon with a snap. 

“That sounds lovely, what a helpful thing you are.” The words came out strained, his jaw tensing. How much longer could he hold out? The thinnest lie held in place that he’d suffer alone through the week. Already compromised by his errant shadow, flat against the carpet beneath your thighs. 

︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶

Within hours Alastor was lying on the floor with his limbs splayed out. The sweating was the worst, not the heat. He could feel ticklish drops dripping down his stomach. His hair was sticking to his face, adding to the mounting overstimulation. Wet, hot, clothes clinging to his body like a second skin. A clawed hand pulled off his bow tie. His fingers shook too much to handle the tiny buttons of his shirt so he gave up and ripped it open. 

It fell into a pile with the bow tie and soon his pants and socks joined. Sitting up on his elbows he looked down at his underwear, he wasn’t hard yet but he knew the smallest touch could trigger what could be days of painfully swollen erections.

He fell back to the floor with a huff, hands raking through his hair and gripping his ears a little rougher than he’d meant to. A gasp, red tipped talons feeling down his ears and slipping around his already growing antlers.

Alastor’s eyes rolled back, strong hands squeezing his prongs, tugging them forward as he imagined anyone riding him. Using his appendages as a handle while he bucked up into them. His hips were already moving, lower back rising off the carpet as he rolled his body up into the imaginary mate he despised his desperation for. His mind flicked through faces. Husk’s pained but satisfied expression, Vox’s tears as he whined, Carmilla’s lusty eyes paired with surrendered sighs. He lingered briefly on Angel’s smirk as his hands roamed down his chest and his thighs in tandem. 

But through the darkness of his imagination he saw two watery and timid orbs, tears welling as eyebrows rose in confusion. Pleasure making the features soften. Soft. Soft velvet ears he could tug on in turn, a little bushy tail he could grip. 

A doe. 

The only doe he knew of in the hotel. 

The radio on the writing desk flipped through channels, piecing together the sounds to form the words he was trying to forget, a magazine ransom note cut from sound bites.

....out the windows

 ....always and forever, 

....in yesterday. 

....rusty cage 

May you never....

Hating how I....

....pull the trigger

....say you love me?

....congratulations 

The relevant sounds spiked in volume, mocking him. 

He walked to the radio and hurled it across the room. Aggression. Already he was losing himself to hellish biology. 

A minor part of him didn’t want to use you. You always looked at him with such adoration, which he’d come to look forward to when others weren’t giving him adequate attention. You also seemed to genuinely see him as a friend, as much as he didn’t directly feed that idea.

But using people was how the world worked. Everyone was using someone. You had said how much you wanted to help… Alastor leaned on the desk with both hands and watched the sweat fall onto the wood and leather writing surface.

How was his body leaking from every pore but his mouth was so dry?

His shadow reached for the thrown radio, the light flickering on. That dark doppelgänger using a song to offer another piece of torment for him, ‘you ain't never caught a rabbit and you ain't no friend of mine.’

︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶

You had been speaking to Husk about what you could do to help prepare the bar for the weekend when a green light began to form around your neck. 

“Did you— Did you make a deal with him?!” Husk dropped the dish rag, hands shooting to your shoulders, “Hold on! I’ll— fucking hell. Fuck!”

“Wait what’s wro-,” you were standing inside an unfamiliar room, just at the door, before you could figure out why Husk was panicking. Looking up, you locked eyes with Alastor. The room was dark, curtains drawn shut and ceiling lights off. A slight glow from a roaring blue fire to your left. His eyes were those familiar glowing red orbs in the darkness of his large canopy bed. “Oh, Alastor.” You finally noticed the third light source. A neon green large linked chain was wrapped around his fist. Following the squared interlocking pieces down the length of the bed, across the carpet and up as you looked down to find it ending on you.

Your hands touched your neck, feeling the cold metal of your collar. 

Alastor took a deep breath in, a shaky exhale following.

Oh. You’d heard from Angel how his deal with his boss often materialized as a series of smoke rings linked and attached to him. 

Before you could question it any further you were sliding across the floor, hands and feet struggling to find purchase as he reeled you toward the bed. Alastor lifted you by the glowing chain around your neck, evidence of the deal you so easily accepted.

“Can a deer breed a rabbit?” He mused, breath ragged as he struggled to remain in control of his impulses, “Doubtful. But I’ll give it my sincerest efforts, regardless.”

“Alastor-! You don’t want to do this, it’s just your rut.” You pulled back, legs kicking and piling up the blankets. It was fruitless. 

He laughed, incorporeal radio studio audience joining along. You couldn’t stop from glancing at the straining fabric of his black boxers. Setting a small hand on his chest to better attempt to push away you gasped, “You’re burning up!” The fear of the moment left you entirely, replaced with deep concern. 

He gripped your wrist with his free hand, not letting go of the chain in his right, “The fever is unbearable. My mind is slipping away.”

“Is this normal?!” Your hands came to his cheeks, his forehead, his neck. You remembered how your grandmother always checked your temperature, and pressed your lips to his sweat slicked brow. “You poor thing…”

When you pulled back you were met with the bright and blown out pupils of Alastor’s gaze. He was staring at your mouth, the green of his magical connection to you reflecting off his glossy eyes.

“Poor me.” He’d been sitting with loosely crossed legs but got on his knees. His face rose until he was looking down at you, hand now holding your chin, “You promised to help me.”

Your eyes were looking everywhere but his face. 

His hand on you tightened, cheeks squished together as he pulled your head up, “Are you a liar?” Of course not. His hand made your head shake left to right.

The trembling of your hands was obvious to you both. A cruel laugh, “Do I scare you, little bunny rabbit?”

In life you weren’t popular. No one hated you, but, well, you never had much luck attracting the men all the women seemed to want. No one of power or consequence ever paid you any mind.

Alastor was scary. But were you scared? Someone strong wanted you. Someone people feared was saying you were good enough for them.

Tears welled in your eyes as you felt your tail wiggling side to side. Your body always betrayed you. Your own death had been the doing of your body’s inability to listen to you. 

He couldn’t see the tail but the way your face screwed up in shame tipped him off. Letting go of your face, super heated finger pads slipped down your back. He slotted your tail between two fingers. There was no reason for it to be such an intimate action, but your entire body trembled.

Another deep sigh from Alastor, closing his fingers around the base and pulling gently. A test. Your head dropped to hide your reaction.

“Ah ah, eyes on me.”

He hummed happily as you did as you were told.

But the moment was cut short, you jumping when a rough knock came to the door.

“Alastor!” Vaggie was turning the knob despite knowing it was locked, “Is she in there? Open the fucking door.” A kick, a threat, “Now.”

“I’ll need your answer.” He leaned back onto the pillows piled behind him. Making a point, he lifted your chain and dropped it. It dissolved into nothingness before it could hit the bed.

“I’m here!” You said barely loud enough to be heard through the wooden door. Your eyes were drawn to Alastor’s lap as he pushed down his underwear to free his deep red cock.

His hand tenderly touched his base, hissing with the contact.

“For fuck’s sake Alastor!” Vaggie yelled, “You have three seconds to open this fucking door before I rip it off the hinges.”

Alastor’s head fell back with a moan, stifled as he bit down on his lip. 

“One!”

As his fingers slid up his length and touched his leaking slit his entire body violently shook.

“Two!”

He opened his eyes just barely. You hadn’t noticed the antlers on his head were quite a few times larger than normal. 

“I’m okay!” You shouted, the loudest noise you’d made since your death, but not the loudest you’d make by the end of the day.

Silence.

Mumbling.

 Vaggie spoke up again, “Are you sure? Come out and talk to us first.”

His hand began stroking himself, precum spilling down. Something soft and fuzzy was settling over the front of your brain.

You scooted backwards off the bed, eyes staying on his lap. The light color of his inner thighs. The little bit of red and black tail you could see squished down under his ass.

“Hello!” You opened the door just enough to shove your head through. “Hi there gang.”

Husk’s arms were crossed and his foot tapping, “Are you really okay? No matter the deal he can’t fucking make you stay in there with him.”

While you weren’t sure that was actually true, it wasn’t an issue, “I wanna stay! He needs someone to watch his fever and-,”

A brief rush of cool air up your shirt before a hot mouth was pressing into the small of your back.

Vaggie’s eyes narrows, “and?”

“And! And. Yes.” Your eyes shut, “and take care of cleaning up after him.”

They shared a glance, “He can just make his little creatures do it.”

A surprisingly long tongue ran up your spine.

“Oh my god.”

“What?”

“Oh my god! No! I couldn’t let my friend,” you sucked your bottom lip in as his hands wrapped around your waist and undid the button of your pants, “rely on strangers.”

Husk sighed, “Alright, just… like, call us or something? If you need anything.”

You began to nod but the door was shut and locked by Alastor before you could reply.

₊✧˚﹕︶︶︶﹕૮₍ ⸝⸝´ ꒳ `⸝⸝ ₎ა﹕︶︶︶﹕ ˚✧₊

Your face hit the wall as you lost balance when he pulled down your pants and panties with one yank and buried his face into your crotch. His tongue licked at the wetness pooled at your entrance.

Any moans would probably still have been heard by the other two so you tried to keep quiet. Alastor didn’t seem to care though, growling into your skin.

The fever seemed it would spread skin to skin, but when he pulled away you found your body quickly cooling. Taking a moment to breath before turning back, you wondered if you’d made a great decision or a terrible one. When you turned, Alastor was settling back into his previous spot. “I could rip the rest off of you or you could undress yourself.” He wasn’t looking at you as he said it. You made quick work of removing your shirt and returning to the bed as you had before.

"Turn around."

You turned to face the door.

"On your hands and knees."

You paused briefly, but did so.

As you bent over, little tail high and trembling, Alastor’s clawed thumbs spread open your bottom lips. Perhaps it was embarrassment or just the nerves but you were twitching open and close.

You heard a low “Fuck” before the feeling of heat dripping onto you made you jerk forward. One of his hands came to your shoulder to hold you in place, the other kept your hole open as his seed continued to dribble down onto it.

He hadn’t been trying to cum, but his body was already responding to the opportunity before it; a breedable and submissive doe.  His cock trigger-happy at the sight of your pussy, inside pink and clenching.

A tiny yelp as he fell over you, joining you in an all fours position but larger body caging yours between his limbs. He laughed again when the back of your head hit him square in the chest. 

“You are uselessly small.” His body rumbled over you. “Clever girl to make a deal for protection.” 

A burning stiffness slid down your folds. You could feel from even how little contact he made he was too big. Was it a bad time to tell him you’d only had the one partner on earth? A rather boring but sufficient sex life. If Alastor was hoping for a sex kitten he’d be deeply disappointed in you.

He hummed imagining dropping his weight and feeling you fruitlessly squirm under him. 

“Mating triggers ovulation, I recall you said. I just need to fuck you into it, right sweetheart? Maybe if I do a good enough job,” his hands gripped the flesh of your ass, “your body will actually respond. Your belly will swell with the evidence of my virility.” Both hands slipped down your hips and came to nestle above your womb, tenderly caressing the protective layer of fat there, “could your little form handle it?” Little form? Not quite. But to him everyone was little. Claws leaving faint red marks as he dragged them up your ribs, around your sides and pressed your back down to get your chest into the bed and ass in the air.

A squeak, your legs flailing with what little motion they had as you turned your head, “Well that’s for actual rabbits not--.”

His hand came over your mouth, “Shhh, there's safety in the quiet. Don’t you know? We’re most vulnerable when we mate.” On the utterance of the word you’d been avoiding to even think about Alastor’s still hard cock squeezed its way into you. Your body was willing, but your pussy wasn’t ready to accommodate him. Not that your living partner had been small, but he wasn’t a seven foot tall rutting deer demon. And with height came a girth and length you’d not anticipated. You had seen it, yes, but that didn’t translate to much once Alastor was entering you.

His hips were snapping back as soon as he sank in. It frustrated him endlessly that he wasn’t trying to fuck you with such a lack of control. He couldn’t have been sure he’d have done it any differently had the circumstances been changed, but he liked to think he’d  retained some skills over the long years alone.

The way he whined made him sound like a weak man, which he was in that moment. You wanted to call out his name, do the things you were used to doing during sex, but his hand was still over your mouth.

As if he heard your thoughts, his fingers spread open over your lips. Pinky under your chin to keep his hold on you. 

“Alastor,” the tenor of your voice surprised you.

“Stick out your tongue.” He sounded far away, despite being right behind you. When you did as he instructed his hand shifted. Two long fingers went into your mouth and pressed down on your tongue. Immediately his fingers and your chin was dripping with drool. He whined again, louder, the noise growing into a growl as his speed began to pick up. 

You could feel the thin flesh at the bottom of your entrance stinging as it was failing to stretch enough for him. It would have bothered you more but the way his burningly hot cock's head was pressing into your cervix was making your eyes lose focus. 

Without ceremony, you felt a rush of heat deep in you. Your shins lifted from the bed as you squirmed, weak attempts to escape the deep press.

His hand left your mouth and you felt it working on the base of his cock that was not yet in you. He mumbled something, it sounded like an apology, before you felt him pop the rest of himself in. You choked on your scream, not knowing what he had put in you. 

It throbbed, new and stronger spurts of his seed felt against an indescribable place. 

A brave hand reached between your thighs and felt at the space between your bodies—- well, would have felt at that space. But there was none. You were flush against his lap. Your fingers slid down to feel taut balls pulled up into his body. 

He shivered as you traced between them, checking neither were …  inside you. 

“I should have warned you, but my ability to speak wasn’t—,” he waved his hand around, “available.” You tried to pull away but found you both were locked together. “A knot. Not an accurate representation of a deer… and technically useless.”

That word meant nothing to you. “Is it normal?”

His thumb pressed at the virgin tight ring of muscle just above your pussy, you instinctively jerked away but just made yourself gasp as that large knot in you threatened to further tear you if you kept it up. “I don’t normally do it so early in a mated rut.”

You surrendered, trying to relax your upper body into the bed. “How do we get it out?”

A mocking chuckle, “It’ll deflate, so to speak, in a couple minutes. It’s just keeping my little doe in place while I finish filling her up.” He patted your ass. 

It was mortifying to be suck in that position.

“Have you ever used this hole?” He rubbed some of your wetness up to your asshole. 

 Your tail lifted, “My boyfriend didn’t like anal.”

Alastor massaged around the puckered ring, “I didn’t ask if he used his.” Your head turned to look at him, shaking it ‘no’. You noticed his face looked less strained now, and that his finger didn’t feel like a fire was just under his skin. “Ah, well. I won’t need it today anyway.”

He didn’t see the bright blush that came over your face. He spoke so easily about the topic, a topic you’d never heard him speak on before. One you’d been told he had no interest in.

An error you made, assuming a lack of interest meant a lack of knowledge or experience. 

When he finally could pull himself out of you, you felt a rush of warmth down your inner thighs. Looking under you, past your chest and between your legs, you saw the thick white semen escaping from your stretched entrance. 

You’d never seen such an opaque release before. You wondered if it was a hint at his…potency. You wondered more what was happening in your body at that moment. 

“Will it come out on its own or do I need to clean it?” Finally sitting up, your fingers felt the mess still dripping out of you. 

Alastor leaned back onto his legs, ears turning in your direction as you asked, “Is this your first time? Your little boyfriend never finished in you?”

Crossing your arms, you turned to him, “Don’t be patronizing to him. And no, okay?”

He felt the heat rising from his gut again, cock twitching at every bit of the scene before him. Insolent body language, an attempt to scold him, and an admission. You watched him sit back up, a sudden reminder how much taller he was as darkened eyes looked down on you. The blue of the fire cast half of his face in shadows. “What’s this? My obedient doe wants to defend another man in my bed?” 

Your hands nervously came to the ends of your ears, “I didn’t mean it like that.” A finger twirled, telling you to turn around. You hesitated. Did he want you to leave? He didn’t want to look at you? You hadn’t—, “I’m sorry.” 

With a blink, his eyes were black.  His fingers longer as parts of him seems to stretch between the joints. He twirled them again as his smile grew wicked.

Desperate to show him you hadn’t wanted to upset him, that you wanted to stay, you turned around. The fear of not knowing what he would do next was sending waves of electricity to your lap. You realized you hadn’t touched yourself yet, not that this was the time to start. 

One by one, those freakishly long fingers curled around the small of your waist and lifted you off the bed. The tops of your feet were sliding across the dark maroon blankets beneath you both.

Your heart was pounding in your ears as he pulled you against him. He positioned you above his renewed erection, your legs opening a little in instinct. 

Grateful now to be turned around, you let your face run the full range of feelings as they washed over you. Fear, arousal, anticipation.

“What a wasteful man.” He brought you down with a painfully slow speed, head just now meeting your sticky wet hole. “He never flooded your soft cunt?” He pressed in a little easier this time, but as you sank to take him all in you felt a sting where you’d slightly torn earlier. “When he dies, I’ll be sure to find him.” Cruel. “And make him watch me breed you.” You clenched, yet another betrayal by your body. 

You were reduced to gasps as he stayed stock still and moved you on and off his cock. “Am I bigger than he is?” You could feel his breath against your back as you were lifted and brought back down again slowly. 

You nodded. A terrible liar, you didn’t even try to fib.

He stopped with his head barely in you.

A squirm.

“I’m sure I just didn’t hear you. Try again.”

“Yes.” You were full again as he got his answer. A creaking sound you didn’t recognize startled you.

“Do I fuck you better than him?”

Ah you understood. Your hands held at his fingers digging into your body. “Yes.” Another creaking sound as he quickened your rise and fall.

Alastor’s antlers were wide and multi-pronged as your affirmations jostled around behind his eyes. Your ‘yes’ somehow made you tighter, wetter, hotter around him. His hips started moving again to meet yours. Perhaps he his dick grown a little during his shift to a more demonic form, or maybe you enjoyed the line of questions. All he knew was you were squeezing him like your body didn’t want him to ever pull out again.

Blood dripped from his lips as he cut his own skin, through gritted teeth a final question, “Do you want my fawns?”

Your legs pressed together, you knew there was only one answer and yet you asked yourself. Did you want that? To carry his children? A moan cut through your thinking, “Yes!”

The fire roared, a response to his own reaction.

Alastor felt his mind slip under again, noticing the wild way his shadow was dancing around the walls before his senses all dulled except touch.

The bed drifted away from under his knees and the walls melted like spent candles. Just sounds echoing off space as your moans deepened. As if learning, you began to whisper ‘yes’ to yourself as you felt a building pressure in your stomach. 

Every thrust into you further separated your brain from your body. Your eyes lost focus as you watched the door bounce. No, wait, you were bouncing, right? Bouncing up and down the stiff rail of Alastor’s arousal. Your head fell forward, gasping as you felt him harden further while buried deep in you. He was going to cum again, you could feel it, you would feel it. The thought made your body shake as a pressure grew steadily in you. 

Not a new sensation, but a different one. 

“Louder,” another thinly veiled demand from Alastor that seemed to come from somewhere else entirely. Your eyes noticed a small light on the floor near the wall. A radio, buzzing with the same crackle as his voice.

“Yes,” you ground out, his hands were slippery with sweat as his nails dug in to ensure he didn’t lose his grip on you. “Yes, yes, yes.” He brought you down entirely and only let you off a little, an unspoken fear he would release too close to your entrance and he’d lose precious seed he needed your body to receive. “Yes! Alastor!” You weren’t sure who was talking now, as it surely couldn’t be you. You’d never —

“You’re better than him. You’re bigger and stronger and and he never —- he could never…”

He was suddenly regretting the position, unable to watch you fall apart as he so lovingly spread you open. 

With a shriek, your back crashed into his chest as Alastor fell backward into his pillows. He didn’t miss a beat. He continued fucking up into you but let one hand reach your clit. When you whined, he breathed into your hair, “I need you to orgasm.” Other hand pressing down on your womb, “Many cultures believed a woman couldn’t get pregnant without finding her release first. Surely it’ll take. Cum for me my doe.”

You shook your head, “Alastor that isn’t possible.” Not that you were arguing against the way his finger was rubbing up and down on your swollen clit, you just felt the need to remind him of the obvious. Your eyes wandered up and back to see the hauntingly wide antlers now. His transformed face barely visible in the shadows.

“I thought you were a good girl.” His mouth kissed at the base of your ears, hand over your womb pressing in and exaggerating the feeling of his cock bulging from under your skin. “Darling,” he groaned, “Are you ready for my knot?”

You moaned at the words. No, of course not. 

“Yes,” you got quiet, embarrassed again. Your hand snaked up and behind to hold his shoulder for stability. 

“Relax,” he hissed, feeling your body tensing in anticipation.

You tried your best, but between his strumming finger and the sting still at your entrance you struggled to let things go limp.

This time you felt it growing beneath you. Alastor was ready as well, pushing it in before it was swollen so large he’d have to force it or just suffer with it outside.

Lubricated with the multiple loads already fucked into and then out of you, the knot pushed past your entrance with ease. But then you felt it expanding in you. Eyes crossing as they rolled back with the foreign sensation. It didn’t hurt, but a little alarm was going off in the back of your brain. How could something natural feel so unnatural? And how—

Your body locked up, muscles from thighs to neck tight. Alastor’s finger hadn’t stopped, and as the second knotted release flooded you with his feverish need, as his knot trapped every drop and forced it up past your cervix you tripped into your first orgasm. Different from your own hand and toys, the build up hadn’t been a slow ratcheting climb. No, you were rolling through waves of nearly pained pleasure. The spasming forced your body to feel him even more, pulling him deeper, triggering another wave to crash into you.

Alastor wanted to praise you, a rush of hormones and ego expanding his chest but the sensations had him so overwhelmed he was manually breathing. His hand didn’t want to stop, because then the way your pussy was positively sucking him in would also end. But your little cries and moans got increasingly choked and strained.

The calm briefly offered by knotting a mate during his rut came to your rescue, Alastor dragging a still barely moving finger up your body and going slack into the pillows.

Deep breaths, both of you fighting to slow them down. Alastor was experiencing another moment of clarity, only slightly upset he had doled out so much tenderness.

But for you, there was no deep fog of a heat to numb the sensations and let the more bothersome bits of consciousness turn off. Your mind was just as clear as normal. A little lusty, but nowhere near Alastor’s altered state. As you laid against his chest, waiting for him to be able to pull out, you could feel the pains and aches setting in.

Alastor summoned a minion, food set down on his desk under a silver cloche. Your eyes caught the black and white creature before it was whisked away.

Sitting up, you flinched but fought against the pain, “Alastor. What was that?”

His hands pulled you back down by the shoulders, skin on skin, “My minion. One of many.” 

 Exhausted, you could only sigh, “So, the errand.”

His hands went up defensively, “Oh come now, did you really think I was the good guy?” You didn’t reply. The silence began to bother him. Odd, given he usually didn’t give a fuck.

But he’d asked a lot of you, and you agreed willingly. You did as you were told. A little twinge of concern he had actually upset you wiggled between his ribs.

His hands slipped down your waist and settled over your stomach, “…Are you hungry? If you stay like this, I can help you eat.” You took a deep breath in, but didn’t even move to look at him. He squirmed ever so slightly, “I can only assume you’re… quite sore. Perhaps a bath? But I can’t guarantee we’ll make it out much cleaner than we are now.” His smile was smaller, just lips; no teeth. As his antlers withdrew and his limbs all returned to their proper places he could turn his head enough to look at your face.

Alastor felt relief wash over him to see you deeply asleep in his arms. It wasn’t a bad idea, to sleep before the next spell hit him and he was too far gone to think about baths or meals.

︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦���

Alastor awoke in the dark. He found his hands and ankles tied behind his back, his body naked and sweating. He was on fire, pieces of himself lifting in the hot breeze and blowing away. He could feel his body fragmenting. You were just a little ways away and he tried desperately to reach out to you but as his eyes adjusted you were suddenly too far. If he could just get you to take a single piece of him, a shard of himself, he would live still. Even when the rest of him was dead and gone, he’d be alive in your hands. A raging stress, the fire now reaching his bones. It wasn’t too late. He still had time. Just a sliver of his existence was all he needed to get to you.

When you woke up, your body was at the foot of the bed. Looking over you saw Alastor lazily stroking his painfully hard erection. His gaze downcast, vision cloudy with unmet needs.

“Alastor?” With shaky arms you lifted yourself. You were hot. Was it the fire? No, before it had no heat. A little damp outline into the comforter formed where your body had been. 

“You’re awake.” He reached over and grabbed your ankle, pulling you towards him and rolling you onto your back. Hand still around your ankle, he pulled your leg against his chest.

“Alastor.”

He sunk into you without hesitation, hips rolling into you roughly. Your body was rocking against the bed, wood creaking against wood with the steady force of his thrusts.

It felt good. Better than before, your walls felt soft and puffy around him. Alastor’s head was low, groaning every time he bottomed out. You could see just enough past him to watch the bed canopy swaying above you both before he folded you in half and leaned fully over you.

His eyes were unfocused like his mind, staring into the bed. A large palm at either side of your head, his back curved as he angled his hips to reach deeper yet.

“I’m so hot.” You were struggling to get the words out. It felt so good, the deeper in you he reached the more you seemed to be melting away.

Your hips were lifted off the mattress, held up entirely by his cock as he continued to rut into you. He could feel the fever in you rising. 

Bent and tangled together, his head was nearly above yours. He was sweating, hair stuck down and ears folded back. A bead fell from his cheek and hit your forehead. He was working so hard. Such a strong man. A strong buck. 

Something in you snapped. Something twisted and burned in your belly. You brought the other leg up to let yourself be folded in half completely, and his eyes wandered to your face. Your frontal cortex was just static as the lights were shutting off in most parts of your more human faculties. 

Everything got quiet in you, a deep seated feeling of security creeping up your legs and sinking into your bones. With Alastor in you, nothing bad could happen to you. If you were carrying his offspring you’d be guaranteed a new level of protection. You needed it. You wouldn’t survive if you weren’t fucked and bred by the overlord. 

How could your body be wrong when the feeling was so natural? So intensely confident?

“Alastor!” Your nails dug into biceps, hands clamoring up his arms to cling onto him, “breed me, please.” 

He was caught alight, mind on ablaze with his raging fever. Your plea was a magnifying glass concentrating the sun into him and sparking a wildlife. Alastor was defenseless against the way your words affected him. 

He could feel it, he could smell it, your heat triggered finally. His lips caught yours as his hands slipped up the blanket with how he had to contort to reach your mouth. You moaned into him, teeth on teeth as neither of you had any ability to finesse things.

“On your knees,” he instructed. You scrambled to turn around as he briefly left your body. A desperate whine in the seconds that stretched on, the emptiness unbearable. It hurt to have him anywhere but balls deep in you.

His hands slipped around your tail that still tried to swish side to side. When he tugged you gasped, the closest sensation you had was having your hair pulled. Chills ran up your spine. You nearly fell forward, but a strong hand wrapped around your neck and pulled your head back. He lined up, adjusting his legs wider to get down to your level.

“Are you feeling it?” He nipped at your shoulder, “Your heat?”

You pushed your ass back and pressed his tip into you. The sound that tore through your chest was answer enough for him as you tried your best to move along his length all on your own.

“You’re okay,” he squeezed lightly around your neck, pussy twitching around him as lightning snapped through you. “I’ll take care of you.”

Words that made your head spin. His body on yours felt like security. Everywhere his skin touched yours was a gulp of cold water in a drought.

A cliche, as he began to move again and his cock hit your g-spot every couple thrusts, you couldn’t tell where you ended and he began. His fever was matched to yours, no heat exchanged as warm and wet flesh moved around warm and wet flesh. Was that your hand or his on your stomach? Both were searing, both soft and slick. One of your hands was reaching down to hold his arm for support.

Eyes slipping shut, you imagined this was what being high felt like. You were out of your body entirely, feeling his dick slipping in and out of you from a different plane of existence. There was a sense your mouth was moving but no awareness of what you were saying. Truly just babbling as Alastor’s speed hitched. A clawed hand on your hip cut into you as he pressed deeper with every thrust.

He guided you down onto your stomach, hand now resting on your right shoulder to keep you in place. You were entirely flat, his knees parting your legs so he could get flush against your core. 

His knot was in place as he began to swell. You felt it again, him flooding your womb as he released directly into your twitching cervix. A euphoria filled you so totally you were sure you could feel the cells of your body humming.

Like a cool breeze had blown down, your fevers broke nearly immediately.

“Oh,” you squeaked, Alastor’s hand releasing you as he lied on top of you. The weight of him was oddly arousing as it gave a clear comparison of your smaller size. “I think you’re right. Estrus.”

He nodded, rolling you both onto your sides, “Would you like the good news or bad news first?”

Resting your head on his extended arm, you tried getting comfortable despite the sticky feeling of your skin and the burning in your thighs, “bad news.”

“You won’t be walking straight for days.” He said it with a heavy tone of pride.

“Oh geez…,” you could feel his knot still throbbing between your hips, “The good news?”

“Your heat is going to make me even more desperate to fill you,” his free hand ran down your sides and slipped between your legs to feel where you two were connected. 

You turned your head the best you could, “That’s not good news, Alastor!”

He laughed, “I lied. Oh well!”

While the good news had been a lie, the way your body’s shift into meeting Alastor’s instincts upped his feral responses was not.  You nibbled on fruit and bread and cured meats in the small windows the clouds around your humanity parted.

But when they’d roll back in, a tempest of feral wants crashing into you both, you’d find yourself clinging to the deer demon.

You could have had an apple in one hand and be mid bite when his musk would reach you and your grip would loosen. With just a moan and a lifting of your hips Alastor would be dragging you closer, crawling over your body, mounting you wherever you two happened to be.

It wasn’t that you’d become confident by the end of the day, but that you’d lost all semblance of shame and embarrassment.

When Alastor pulled you onto his lap and placed your hands on his peach fuzz covered antlers, you didn’t need verbal instructions. It took all of your arm span to reach them, so you held tightly as he thrust up into you. None of his noises had been as intoxicating as the ones he made when you were leaning over him and squeezing his prongs with every jostle of your womb. Perhaps he’d lost his shame too, loud and long moans the other residents had to have heard spilling from his open mouth. 

The wet slap of your ass coming back down onto his thighs as he bounced you was barely registered. Head hung low to meet his black engulfed eyes, you didn’t notice his smile was gone for the first time since you’d met him. Pinhole red pupils were locked on your face and imperceptibly roamed around your lust filled expression. 

One hand reached up and rubbed the soft skin of your downturn rabbit’s ears between his thumb and index finger. Soft. Velvet. 

A sensation that was wholly pleasant, not sexual in any nature but feeding the comfort provided by Alastor’s cock buried to the hilt. He wanted to enjoy the smile it gave you but he could feel his orgasm climbing exponentially.

There it was again, the darkness of your combined heat and rut slinking in. Body to body, your own sounds harmonizing with his and losing distinction. “Alastor–,” eyes drifting shut, “Please. I feel empty.” His previous loads dripping down your thighs, then down his own, and soaking into the carpet. “Fill me up. Please, can you breed me?”

His hand pulled down on your ear, “That was never in question.”

You let go of his extended prongs, arching your back to take a kiss. More. His tongue in your mouth, another hole full of Alastor. His hands both reunited on your ass and used the flesh there like handles. He fucked up into you, withholding the growing at his base, until he felt you cumming around him again. As your body sucked him in with rolling spasms, he pressed you down on his upthrust. A pained moan as it was pushed in a little late. 

Lightning behind your eyelids, your mouths hanging open and pressed together. 

Both of you a pile on the floor, a cold blue flame and soft music playing from the still broken radio. Uncharacteristically, Alastor’s arms wrapped around your smaller form and clung to you. The sensations were popping up one by one. Sticky skin, sweat rolling down your face, hair sticking to your neck and forehead. You’d have to peel each other apart. Which you did, eventually. When Alastor could pull out, he followed through on the bath he’d been thinking about. 

You protested, reminding him you’d be soaking the floor with displaced bath water as soon as the next urge to mate came around. But he laughed, smile back in place as if it had never left, “Sweetheart if I do my job right you won’t even realize you’re not in bed until you’re knotted and knocked up.”

︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶

He hadn’t been lying about the protective second day. But what he hadn’t anticipated was just how long that aggressive desire to keep others at a distance from you would last. While your deal had been in place for a little while before his rut, it wasn’t until after your time together in his room that it seemed to ever be used. 

But you didn’t need to call out for him, like he had said. No, anytime someone even looked at you with a nasty thought, you were graced with his presence. Most people figured it out quickly enough, but occasionally new and brave idiots would approach you with trouble. 

So when a tall and imposing creature cornered you in a shop, hand holding something sharp and shiny and asked, “Scared, little hare?", you could only smile as your face was lit up by a green glow and offer a little advice, “No, but you should be.”

deleted scene ˗ˏˋ Masterlist ˎˊ˗

˖  ݁𖥔.Summoning the Horny Little Deer Cult.𖥔 ݁ ˖

@cxrsedwxrlds , @nonetheartist , @tsunaki , @janchei ,  @moonmark98 , @hoebihoeshi , @pansexual-opera-house , @polytheatrix , @lorddiabigmommymilkers , @backinthefkingbuildingagain , @harley2223-blog  , @poinappel , @midnightnoiserose , @spookieroz , @ivebeenthearchersstuff , @downbadforfictionalppl , @xx-all-purpose-nerd-xx , @sleepylittledemon , @aether-th3-enby , @dontfuckbutimfab , @breathlessaura , @aperfectidiot , @certainlygay , @jth12 , @star-kujo-platinum @ivebeenthearchersstuff , @rubyninja1 , @simphornies

, @readergirlstuff , @berry-demon , @chirimeimei , @fairyv-ice , , @tiredkiwiii @ilikemyteawithmilk @whateverlololo , @psipies , @howabouticallyou , @roxxie-wolf ,  , @fizzled-phoenix ,  @phobophobular  , @mariaclarade-la-cruz1     , @roxxie-wolf , @a-case-of-attachment , @multifandomfanatic02 @watereddownmilk  

[lleeanarr]

pt 2.

summary: The relationship was unexpected not only from the fans, but it was unexpected to the both of them as well.

genre: fluff, smau

paring: Lando Norris x Influencer!reader

warnings! : swearing, attempted humour

fc: Lani Pliopa

a/n: part two! sorry for the long wait😞😞

prev | next

*ੈ✩‧₊˚༺☆༻*ੈ✩‧₊˚

landonorris : hello??

-

landonorris : …

landonorris : its been a day🙃

-

landonorris : answer me?

landonorris : pls?😔

-

landonorris : day 65 of asking you to answer me🫠

landonorris : ANSWERRRRRR‼️‼️

catsuperior111 : what in the desperate male😨😨

landonorris : im not desperate.

catsuperior111 : u sure????

catsuperior111 : looks and sound very desperate to me🤷‍♀️

landonorris : 🙂

catsuperior111 : its okk everyone just wants to slide into my dms😌✨

landonorris : weren’t you the one sliding into mine🤨

catsuperior111 : I-

catsuperior111 : me is 🤏 close to blocking tu😃😃

landonorris : NO

landonorris : and why the fuck did it take you a whole week to answer me🤨🤨

catsuperior111 : uhhh

catsuperior111 : my phone was dead..??

landonorris : bullshit who can survive a week without a phone

landonorris : and you suck at lying.

catsuperior111 : BOO TOMATO TOMATO📣📢‼️

catsuperior111 : THIS IS SLANDER😠😠

landonorris : no slander

landonorris : just the truth🤷

landonorris : now answer my question why did it take you so long?

catsuperior111 : i was too lazy😔✊

landonorris : THAT WAS THE REASON?!!!

catsuperior111 : yes.

catsuperior111 : you were too boring for me to reply to🤷‍♀️

landonorris : bullshit

landonorris : i know deep inside you enjoy my attention😍✨

catsuperior111 : WHO in their RIGHT mind would ever enjoy your attention😨😨😨

landonorris : rude.

landonorris : and fyi MANY would😒

catsuperior111 : mhmm sure keep lying to yourself

catsuperior111 : sometimes being delulu is the solution😍🙏🙏

landonorris : man fuck you.

landonorris : did you even check who you messaged😭😭

catsuperior111 : in all honesty no☺️

landonorris : SO YOU JUST HAPPENED TO DM ME FROM CURIOSITY?!

catsuperior111 : OMG I DIDNT KNOW YOU HAD THAT IN YOU TO FIGURE IT OUT😨😨‼️‼️

landonorris : WOMAN YOU ARE SOMETHING😭😭

reacted with : 😮‍💨

*ੈ✩‧₊˚༺☆༻*ੈ✩‧₊˚

yourusername

liked by alexandrasaintmleux, bsfuser and 23,689 others

yourusername small dump📷🍪

view all comments

bsfuser THE CATSSSS😍😍😍

yourusername I KNOW RIGHT?!!!!

yourusername I WAS LITERALLY SHRIEKING WHEN I WALKED DOWN THE STREETS AND SAW THEM🥹🥹🥹

bsfuser LITERALLY THE CUTEST🥹🤏

alexandrasaintmleux 😍😍

liked by author

user17 y/n and her constant post on her lego builds

user35 l literally love her aesthetic😩🤌🤌

user31 she’s literally GLOWING📢📣📣‼️‼️

*ੈ✩‧₊˚༺☆༻*ੈ✩‧₊˚

catsuperior111 : do you seriously not post anything??

landonorris : why do you care if i post something or not🤨🤨

landonorris : and who are you to question i post something or not when you have ZERO POST

catsuperior111 : WDYM😠😠

catsuperior111 : i post stuff on my main😒

landonorris : THIS WAS A BURNER ACCOUNT!!

catsuperior111 : yes?

catsuperior111 : did you really think i was going to talk to you using my main🤨

landonorris : most people do

landonorris : yes

catsuperior111 : well i have a burner account for research purposes😍😍🤌🤌

landonorris : WOW

landonorris : no wonder you asked a weird ass question😭😭

catsuperior111 : BINGO✨

catsuperior111 : my main is @yourusername

catsuperior111 : im tired of switching accounts back and forth😪✋

landonorris : lazy ass

*ੈ✩‧₊˚༺☆༻*ੈ✩‧₊˚

yourusername posted a story!

caption: me and my gang😍🤌🤌✨

view replies!

landonorris why did it take me a while to spot you💀

landonorris you blend in

yourusername YOU THINK I LOOK LIKE A CAT🥹

yourusername Im honoured🫶🥹

yoursister How did you manage to take that with my cats😨😨

yourusername they just love me😩😩✨

bsfuser the cat obsession is getting crazier...

yourusername 🤫

*ੈ✩‧₊˚༺☆༻*ੈ✩‧₊˚

yourusername : oi

yourusername : i accidently bought two tickets to the eras tour😞😞

yourusername : no wonder they were so expensive!

yourusername : can you come with?

landonorris : do younot have any friends?

yourusername : i do...

yourusername : they ditch moi for they're boyfriends

yourusername : def didn't stand up to bros before hos😕🙄

landonorris : when?

yourusername : OMG UR ACTUALLY WILLING TO GO????!!!

landonorris : its charity work😥

yourusername : ....

yourusername : fuck you

landonorris : also who is stupid enough to decline an eras tour concert ticket WHICH WAS PAID FOR☺️☺️

yourusername : having you as company better be fucking worth it

landonorris : dw it will😗

landonorris : if ur being serious about me going when?

yourusername: 18th of october

landonorris : where?

yourusername : miamiiiii

landonorris : wtf you expect me to fly to miami for you???

yourusername : yes

landonorris : ur paying for my flight ticket

yourusername : WHATTTTT????

yourusername : i am too BROKE for that😔

yourusername : i paid for ur concert ticket...

yourusername : at least pay for the flight

yourusername : give some justice to my bank account☹️🤚

landonorris : fine

landonorris : the things i do to see taylor swift😞😞

yourusername : wow what about meeeee

landonorris : thanks for the ticket🙂

*ੈ✩‧₊˚༺☆༻*ੈ✩‧₊˚

*ੈ✩‧₊˚༺☆༻*ੈ✩‧₊˚

a/n: i'm literally so sorry for taking so long to release the second part i will be posting more frequent hopefully...😓

taglist: @iamahallucinationnn , @hurtblossom , @papaya-twinks , @kami10471633 , @ahnneyong

[heartsandhischier]

definitely the annoying little brother

luke hughes x female!reader, jack hughes x platonic!reader

summary - 5.2k words. living in an apartment with your best friend is great, but living in an apartment with your best friend and his brother... not so great

author's note - so... got a little carried away with this one, might write a part 2 idk yet but I love cocky Luke

warnings - mentions of alcohol, swearing, smut (first time writing so hopefully it isn't total shit)

When you first moved to New Jersey, you felt completely lost. Don’t take it the wrong way, it was great—a prestigious college, a change of scenery, and the promise of a fresh start. But your journey took an unexpected turn when you bumber into someone, quite literally crashed into someone, drenching him in your freshly bought coffee.

That someone was Jack, who had also just moved to New Jersey after being drafted by the New Jersey Devils. Like you, he was lost, navigating the unfamiliar terrain of a new beginning. Quickly, you became best friends, each other’s anchor in this new and unfamiliar state. You were each other’s confidants and biggest supporters, always there to lift one another up, no matter the challenge—cheering him on from the stands during his rookie year while he helped you with your schoolwork, or at least tried to…

You supported each other through thick and thin.

When you suddenly found yourself without an apartment, Jack didn’t hesitate to offer you his guest room. What started as a temporary arrangement soon turned into something more permanent, as both of you realized that living together just felt right. What was meant to be a short-term solution naturally evolved into a lasting living situation.

When Luke was drafted, you were perched on the edge of your seat in the apartment, eyes glued to the screen in anticipation as the New Jersey Devils prepared to announce their pick. The moment Luke’s name was called, you jumped up from the couch, overwhelmed with joy. You were thrilled, not just for Luke, but because you knew how much this meant to Jack—being able to play alongside his brother, to grow and improve together on the ice. You watched the screen as Jack sprung from the couch, shaking with excitement. He had told you before, that if Luke was drafted by the Devils, he would move into the apartment. Rather than feeling any apprehension, your strong friendship with Jack made you excited to live with the two brothers.

But here you were, pounding angrily on the shared bathrrom door, “LUKE! Are you fucking kidding me? I’m gonna be late!” The reality of living with Luke was far from pleasant or fun as you had imagined.

Luke was definetely the annoying brother of the three.

Unlike Jack, who was always kidn and considerate, Luke seemed to barely tolerate your presence. He often made snide, witty comments, as if he took some kind of pleasure in getting under your skin.

The apartment had turned into a warzone, filled with incessant arguing, shouting, and tension so thick you could cut it with a knife. In jack’s absence, there was no one to play the peacemaker, no one stopping the two of you from getting at each others throats. Luke was leaving the bathroom a mess, his toiletries scattered everywhere, piling dirty dishes in the sink, not even bothering to put them in the dishwasher, and even taking your clothes out of the dryer and dumping them on the floor so he could use the machine. He even went as far as throwing a party the night before your midterm.You couldn’t hep but feel like he was doing all of this on purpose. You knew he was raised well, with proper manners and common decency—Jack was living proof of that. You knew, you knew he was doing it on purpose. Luke was intentionally firing you up, pushing your buttons. And what bothered you the most, was that it was working.

Luke finally unlocked the bathroom door, and as he swung the it open, a cloud of steam escaped into the hallway. His hair damp, a towel casually wrapped around his waist, showing off his toned muscles. “You don’t need to spend that much time in the bathroom, especially when you end up looking like that,” you snapped, arms crossed in frustration.

“Like what? Incredibly handsome?” Luke shot back, a smug smirk spreading across his face.

“No, like shit,” you fired back, not missing a beat.

“Well, you’re not exactly a sight for sore eyes yourself. So you don’t really need the bathroom before school anyways,” he chuckled, clearly satisfied with his comeback. Annoyed, you rolled your eyes and pushed past him, eager to get on with your day.

-

“Come on Y/N,” Jack whined, his voice dragging, practically on his knees, begging. His team was heading out to celebrate their victory from the night before, and with your schedule finally clear after endless stress, Jack insisted that you’d join them, arguing that you deserved a break. However, his team included a certain someone—Luke. The thought of spending hours into the night, subjected to Luke’s endless barbs and comments, now potentially amplified by alcohol, spelled nothing but trouble in your mind.

“I’ll put you on my tab, if you come,” he offered wiggling his eyebrows, trying to sweeten the deal with the promise of a free night out. You couldn’t help but laugh at his desperation, “Come on, we both know you’d do that anyways,” you teased, narrowing your eyes playfully at him.

“Please, I’ll clean the bathroom for the next three weeks,” he proposed.

“Four weeks.”

“Fine, four weeks. And I’ll make you lunch for those weeks too,” he said, extending his hand in a peace offering.

“Deal. But I’ll skip on the lunch since you barely know how to cook brocolli.”

-

“Aren’t we going to wait for Luke?” you asked, slipping into your boots, a hint of curiousity in your voice. Jack chuckled at your questiong, catching your eyes in the mirror as he straigthened his jacket. “What, have you suddenly become best friend with your ‘enemy’?” he teased. “Absolutely not,” you snorted, “Just wanted to know if I needed to prepare for a battle to get us in the back seat.”

The Uber sped through the bustling streets of New York, skyscrapers flashing by in a blur. Luke had headed out erly with Holtz and Mercer, granting you a rare moment of peace on the drive to the club, free from the usual bickering.

The elevator chimed, announding your arrival at the club’s level. As the doors slid open, you were greeted by a breathtaking panoramic view of New York City—the virbant lights and endless stretched out before you, leaving you momentarily speechless. “Pretty sick, right?” Jack playfully nudged you, his smile infectious, clearly proud of the evening’s choice. The club’s interior buzzed with energy, packed with people moving rhythmically beneath the glow of shimmering lights. The music enveloped the space, so loud and deep that the bass seemed to vibrate through the very floor. With a reassuring grip, jack took your hand and guided you through the crowd, weaving towards the table where his teammates were gathered.

They all excitedly greeted the two of you, ushering you both to join them at the table. You loved Jack’s teammates—they were just as kind and welcoming as him, making everyone feel included and part of the fun. They had a way of making you feel like you belonged, as if you were a part of the team.

And then there was Luke.

He didn’t even glance in your direction when you approached the table, too invested in his conversation with Timo to care—yeah sure.

As soon as you sat down, the drinks were served—Jack with his usual beer, and for you, a Tom Collins, your all-time favourite. You couldn’t help but chuckle, Jack had even gone out of his way to make sure you got your favourite drink.

After a few more drinks and plenty of hearty laughs, Jack pulled you out of your seat and onto the dance floor. The music immediately took over as you started moving, and you found yourself actually enjoying the moment. Dancing with Jack, you felt genuinely happy, grateful that you’d agreed to go out. In that moment, you forgot all about his annoying little brother.

Dancing, completely lost in the ruthm and music, you noticed your glass was empty. Sldiding through the crowd, you made your way to the bar, skillfully navigating the sea of people, all moving to the same infectious beat. The bartenders were a blur of activity, moving with swift precision as they tried to keep up with the endless stream of orders shouted by eager club-goers.

While waiting to be served, you suddenly felt a hand wrap around your waist. Startled, you turned around, meeting the drunken gaze of a stranger. “What are you getting beautiful?” he slurred. He was undeniably handsome, but the whole encounted made you feel uncomfortable. You tried to respond, but only managed to stumble out an incoherent answer.

He leaned in closed, his breath hot against your ear, “Why don’t I buy you a drink, and then we can continue the party at my place?” a shiver ran down your spine, and not the good kind. All you could muster was a sheepish smile, your mind racing for a way out. In a sudden, unwelcome move, he leaned in, clearly aiming for a kiss. You froze, unable to move, instinctively shutting your eyes, bracing for impact.

But the kiss never came. Eyes still closed, you heard commotion.

“Back off. She’s not going anywhere with you.”

Opening your eyes, you found Luke standing between you and the stranger, his body tense as he had pushed the man away, shielding you from his advances.

“You okay?” Luke asked, his voice softening as he lightly brushed your arm, his towering presence offering an unexpected sense of security. You looked up at him, slowly giving a small nod, your mind still racing. What the fuck just happened?

Without missing a beat, Luke turned to signal the bartender, “Two Tom Collins’ please.” The bartender nodded in acknowledgement and swiftly got to work on the drinks.

As he handed you one of the glasses, Luke’s hand gently found its way to the small of your back, guiding you with a suprising tenderness toward the dance floor. The music, once again, enveloped you, its rhythm quickly helping you forget the uncomfortable encounter at the bar.

You found yourself dancing close to Luke, closer than you had ever been before. You felt weirdly comfortable in Luke’s presence, and it seemed he noticed, his hand resting gently on your hips, his voice teasing. “For someone who complains so much about me, you seem pretty okay with standing this close to me.”

His comment took you by surprise, a rush of warmth flooding your cheeks. You quickly retorded, trying to mask your fluster, “Trust me, if the club wasn’t this packed, I’d be standing lightyears away from you.”

Luke smirked, leaning in closer, his breath tickling your ear as he whispered, “Or maybe you’ve just realised how much you actually enjoy my company. All those complaints might just be your way of getting my attention.”

You sturggled to maintain your composure, caught off guard by the unexpected closeness. “Dream on Luke. If I wanted your attention I’d just lock myself in the bathroom with you,” you shot back, trying to sound unfazed.

“Yeah, you’d like that wouldn’t you,” he replied with that damn smirk—you wished you could just slap it off his face.

What. Was. Happening?

Confused and a bit flustered, you mustered up an excuse and rushed through the lively crowd toward Jack at the table.

“Enjoying youself?” Jack’s voice pulled you back to reality, his tone playful as he nudged you.

“Fine!” You responed, rolling our eyes at him. “I’m having fun. But you didn’t have to make them get my favourite drink,” you laughed, giving into his bright smile.

Jack joined the laughter, but there was in his response that made it seem like he was laughing at you, not with you. He tilted his head, genuinely puzzled as he looked at you. “I didn’t tell anyone to order your favourite drink.”

“Well, who’s in charge of the tab tonight?”

“Luke.”

-

The next few weeks, you did everything you could to avoid Luke. The whole situation at the club… it left you confused. It was so unexpected, yet for some reason, you didn’t mind the closeness that you felt that night. But you couldn’t face him. You started waking up hours earlier than necessary just to avoid the usual bathroom fight, lingering around for extrahours before class or work. It was ruining your sleep schedule, but you convinced yourself it was for the best.

Your eyes were glued to the bright screen of your phone—3 AM. You let out a frustrated sigh. You couldn’t sleep. The room felt like an oven, the early arrival of summer in New Jersey wrapping your bedroom in an unbearable warmth. The stress of upcoming exams weighed heavily on your mind. And the thought of having to get up in just two hours to avoid Luke didn’t help much either.

Defeated, you pushed yourself out of bed, sliding into your fluffy slippers. Glancing at your reflection in the mirror, you sighed—you looked a mess. Hair tied up in a messy bun, and Jack’s New Jersey Devils t-shirt hung loosely around you.

Whatever.

At this ungodly hour, no one would see you anyway.

Carefully, you pushed the door open, trying to minimise the telltale creak. With light steps, you tiptoed down the hallway, heading for the kitchen. The gentle glow from the counter lights greeted you, casting a soft, inviting glow over the room—Jack must’ve left it on. However, the comfort quickly turned into dismay when you spotted the very person you’d been trying to hard to avoid for weeks on end—Luke. His back was turned, his curly messy, and a pair of pajama pants hung loosely around his waist. His back muscles, his shoulders—everything was on display.

The sight of him triggered an immediate fight-or-flight response—you needed to get out of there before he noticed you. You turned your heel, but your slippers betrayed you with a sharp squeak against the floor.

“Going somewhere?”

You cleared your throat, gathering the courage to face him as you slowly turned around. There he was, casually leaning against the kitchen counter, a bowl of cereal cradled in his hands—his midnight snack. “Just needed some water. Didn’t realise I had company,” you managed to say, trying your best to sound nonchalant.

He let out a soft chuckle, the spoon in his bowl making lazy circles. “Can’t sleep either, huh? The kitchen’s open for all, y’know.” He wasn’t wrong. Despite your efforts to keep your distance, you did in fact live together, and spaces like the kitchen were neutral ground, even at 3 AM.

“Yeah, I… I guess I’ll just grab that water then,” you replied, navigating the awkward silence that filled the room. You reached for a glass and made your way to the sink—coincidentally right next to where Luke was enjoying his cereal. His presence towering over you as you filled your glass with water.

“You know, for two people who claim to hate each other, we do end up in the same place a lot,” Luke observed with a smirk that you could feel rather than see.

You scoffed, trying to maintain a façade of indifference. “We live in the same apartment, Luke, and your brother is my best friend. Don’t get it twisted.”

“Well, you’re wearing my t-shirt, so don’t blame me for getting the ‘wrong idea’,” he countered.

“This is Jack’s.”

He chuckled lightly. “I’ve been looking for it for weeks, thought I lost it. But now I know you just wanted to feel like you were sleeping next tome.”

You scoffed, annoyed. “In your dreams, asshole.”

He stepped closer, closing the distance between you to mere inches. “Y’know, you could’ve just asked. I’d gladly let you sleep in bed with me,” he said, the smirk evident in his voice as he towered over you.

Heart racing, your voice caught in your throat at the sudden proximity. In a moment of panic, you retreated, mumbling an incoherent “I have to go,” as you hastily made your escape.

-

The usual calm and comfortable space of your apartment was transformed tonight into lively space buzzing with energy, laughter, and booze. It was Jack’s birthday, and as his best friend, you were determined to throw him the best celebration possible—a surprise party. You pulled all the strings, inviting friends and teammates, and with the off-season granting a rare break, Trevor, Cole, and Alex were able to join the festivities. As you navigated the cluster of people, a glass nestled gently in your grasp, your gaze inadvertently landed on Luke. By his side stood a girl whose laughter harmonised so seamlessly with his, it almost seemed choreographed.

A strange unease began to coil within you at the sight. There was Luke, entiraly absorbed in conversation with whoever this girl was, and something about it unsettled you deeply.

“Seems like Luke’s really hitting it off, huh?” Trevor’s voice cut through the hum of the party, his tone playful yet pointed as he caught your fixed gaze and gave a teasing nudge.

“Yeah, looks like it,” you responded, striving for indifference even as you couldn’t tear your eyes away. You weren’t sure why, but the sight of Luke and that girl, felt like it lodged itself in your chest.

Jack’s laughter soon joined in, bright and unaware of the subtle tension you were feeling. He slapped your shoulder playfully, “Luke’s always been a charmer. Who’s the lucky lady this time?”

You attempted a nonchalant shrug, trying to shake off the knot forming in your stomach. “No idea.”

-

“This is nice isn’t it?”

The sun was shining, pouring its warmth over Jersey City, a gentle breeze complementing the heat perfectly.

As you wandered through the city with Jack, it felt like old times, just the two of you. His excitement was contagious, sparking a lightness that had been missing for too long.

“I feel like I haven’t seen you in forever. And we live together!” he joked, playfully nudging you, but you could sense the underlying truth in his words—he genuinely missed these moments together.

And he was right, it had been a while. The efforts you’d put into avoiding Luke had eventually affected Jack as well, since the two of the basically shared the same schedule. You didn’t want to tell him the truth—that you were avoiding Luke and then possibly having to explain why.

“Yeah, I’ve missed this, it’s just that I’ve been drowning in schoolwork lately.” It was a bad excuse, but it was the best and most realistic you could come up with.

Deciding to take advantage of the beautiful day, you suggested heading to one of your favourite cafes. The idea of soaking up some sun while catching up seemed perfect. Once you found a spot in the outdoor seating area, you offered to go in and order for the two of you. By the time you returned with to coffees, the dynamic at your table had unexpectedly changed. Two additional figures were now seated beside Jack, their curls a dead giveawat—you recognised those curls anywhere. A sigh escaped your lips as Jack, beaming with enthusiasm, gestured towards them. “Hey, Y/N! Look who I found!” the two curlyheads turned to face you, John and Luke greeting you with smiles, with Luke’s carrying his signature, teasing smirk.

Reluctantly, you put on a fake smile and settled into the chair next to Jack, doing your best to remain composed, polite, and NOT awkward. The conversation flowed effortlessly around you, but you remained quiet, occasionally offering a nod or a brief reply. Your eyes shifted between John and Jack, deliberately avoiding Luke, as if by ignoring him, you could somehow make the situation less complicated.

Eventually , John and Luke made their casual exit. You managed a tight smile and a polite wave, holding on to your façade of composure until they were out of sight. The moment they were gone, jack’s attention snapped back to you, his brows furrowed in confusion and curiosity. “Why were you acting so weird?”

Suddenly, the café’s cosy outdoor setting felt more like an interrogation room, and you were in the hot seat.

“Wha-what do you mean?” your voice wavered despite the smile you plastered on. “I was not!” you countered, hoping the denial sounded more convincing to his ears than it did to yours.

Jack’s eyes widened in shock, as if he had just cracked the code. The revelation seemed to knock him off balance, almost sending him tumbling off his chair. “Oh my god,” he whispered, a mix of genuine shock and amusement in his voice as a chuckle escaped.

“You’re sleeping with John, aren’t you?”

A wave of relief washed over you at his misinterpretation. It was better than telling him about Luke, right? After all, jack was still Luke’s older brother, and you couldn’t risk jeopardising your friendship with Jack, even if whatever was going on with Luke meant something.

Caught between the fear of losing your best friend and the chaos of the moment, you found yourself nodding along before the word “yes” tumbled out. And now, you possibly just made your situation even messier.

-

Once again, you found yourself at a bar with Jack and his teammates, the night serving as a farewell toast before everyone dispered for the off-season. The bar buzzed with a contagious mix of laughter and the clinking of glasses, everyone savouring each other’s company before the inevitable goodbyes. Throughout the evening, you’d successfully avoided both Luke and john, skillfully navigating the minefield of awkward encounters. You also… may have indulged in a few too many drinks to steady your nerves.

As you found yourself back at the bar for yet another round of liquid courage, you sensed someone approaching. Turning around, it wasn’t Luke’s familiar curls, but John’s. you managed a somewhat forced smile as he settled beside you. “Hey, Y/N, having fun?” he asked with a smile.

You nervously accepted your drink as it arrived, taking a sip that was perhaps a bit too eager. “Yeah, it’s great hanging out with you guys!”

An awkward silence fell between you, filled only by the sound of your silent sipping. John’s laughter suddenly cut through the tension, breaking the ice with ease as he chuckled at the obvious awkwardsness of the situation. “Y’know, Jack’s been chirping me relentlessly tonight. Mentioning something… interesting… about us.” You groaned, mentally facepalming yourself.

With a playful gesture, he pointed his finger between the both of you, his expression a mix of confusion and amusement. “Did… did we sleep together one night and I just forgot?”

“No no no!” you rushed to clarify, flailing your hands around, desperate to clear up the situation. John, is of course, handsome, and after a few too many drinks on a night out, it could’ve happened under different circumstances. The absurdity of it all hit both of you at once, and you burst out laughing, dissolving any lingering awkwardness between the two of you.

John theaterically placed a hand over his heart. “Phew, good. Wouldn’t want Luke getting all jealous on me.” Your laughter echoed his, agreeing wholeheartedly—until his words fully registered. You never mentioned Luke. “What did you say?”

John merely winked and offered you a pat on the shoulder before making his exit, leaving you at the bar, more puzzled than ever.

As the evening unfolded, the flow of drinks seemed never-ending, each one blurring into the next. Suddenly, you found yourself seated in the passengerseat of a car, the lights of New Jersey streaking past you in a dizzyin display. Barely able to keep your eyes open in your drunken state, you looked over to the driver’s seat—Luke. “What are you doing? You shouldn’t be driving,” you slurred.

“I was sober tonight, Y/N. and you… you were way too drunk. We’re going home,” Luke responded, his tone lacking its usual lightness, replaced by a firm, blunt edge. The drive was engulfed in silence, a tensions hanging in the air that even your drunken haze couldn’t miss.

“So, cosying up with John?” Luke remarked, a hint of something indefinable in his tone.

Luke had seen you at the bar. His voice carried a weight, one that echoed the same unease you felt when you saw him with that girl at Jack’s birthday.

Words failed you as you tried to respond, a string of incoherent mumbles and half-formed words spilling out of your mouth. You felt like you were burning up, put on the spot, panicking. “Trying to make me jealous?” You blinked in shock at his question. There was no hint of anger in Luke’s voice; instead, he sounded amused. You could feel his smirk.

As you finally mustered up the courage to face him, there it was—that infuriating, captivating smirk. Part of you wanted to punch it off his face, yet another part for inexplicably drawn to it. “I… I wasn’t…” you stuttered, struggling to articulate your thoughts. Luke let out a soft chuckle, one hand leaving the steering wheel, landing comfortably on your thigh.

“I’ll admit it, I got a bit jealous. But I know John wouldn’t do that to me,” he said, giving you thigh a gentle squeeze. You were totally lost. Luke was jealous? Why? You weren’t trying to make him jealous. Your intentions had been the polar opposite—you were trying to avoid him.

And here you were, alone, in the car, with Luke.

“And I know you wouldn’t do that either. You’re too charmed by me, aren’t you?” The car came to a stop; you were outside the apartment. Luke finally turned to meet your gaze. His question hung in the air, leaving you speechless. You weren’t interested in Luke, at all. You were just confused.

Right?

“Is that the reason why you’ve been avoiding me?” His words struck a nerve—he knew. He knew that you had, in fact, been avoiding him. You found yourself locked in his gaze, unable to pry your eyes away. Luke didn’t look away either; it was as if he was uncovering every secret, exploring every inch of you with his eyes.

In a swift, almost breathless moment, he leaned over, his lips finding yours. The kiss caught you by surprise, yet the thought of pulling away never crossed your mind. Instead, you found yourself surrendering—melting into the warmth of his lips. Your hand instinctively found its way to his curls, fingers weaving through them, pulling him closer,deepening the kiss.

You were moving in perfect sync.

His hand reached out, unlatching your seatbelt, freeing your from its restraint. With an ease of urgency, you climbed over the midconsole, never losing the precious contact between the two of you.

His hands found their way to your hips, finger pressing into the soft fabric of your clothes, pulling you even closer. Arching your back at the contact, your clothed core merely inches away from him, only your clothes separating you. Intoxication swept over you, but it wasn’t the alcohol swirling through your veins that left you dizzy – it was Luke. it was the touch of his hands roaming around your body, the feeling of his lips on yours, it was him. And you needed more. Your hands seemed to take on a life of their own, grasping at his shoulders, tugging at his curls, wrapping around his neck – anything to be closer to Luke.

Lost in the moment, straddling Luke in the drivers seat as you deepened the kiss. His hands on your hips, pulling you closer as you grind against him, feeling him harden beneath you. The friction was maddening, and you could feel yourself growing wetter by the second.

You simply couldn’t help yourself.

With a groan, Luke pulls away, leaving you both gasping for air. But the respite is short-lived as you felt Luke’s fingers grazing your inner thigh, sending shivers up your spine. He hooked his fingers under the edge of your panties, pulling them to the side. You bit down on your lip, trying to stifle the moan that threatened to escape as he slips inside, his fingers finding your clit with ease.

But you can’t, you’d been wanting this, needing this, needing him. Needing Luke.

You let out a soft moan, giving yourself over to the feeling of his fingers exploring your most sensitive area. At first, Luke’s fingers moved in small, teasing circles, bareuly brushing against the sensitive bundle of nerves, just watching you fall apart on top of him.

In the haze of pleasure, you found yourself drawn to Luke’s eyes. They were dark, intense, however, there was a hint of care, and maybe even love, taking in every moment of your reaction to his touch.

You couldn’t look away if you tried. Trapped in his gaze, the car filled with the sounds of your heavy breathing and whimpers – you didn’t want to escape.

Luke’s eyes never left yours, watching with rapt attention as your breath hitched in your throat. Your face flushed, eyes closed tight, feeling the pressure building inside you. Luke’s fingers sped up, pressing harder against your clit.

Suddenly, your vision faded, the orgasm tearing through you like a wildfire, your body shaking with the force of your release.

Collapsing on top of him, your breath coming in short, sharp, gasp as you tried to catch your breath. Luke pushed away the mess of your hair, gently caressing your chin, tilting your face so you could meet his gaze. He was smiling, not the usual shit eating smirk, but smiling with genuine care and affection.

What just happened?

[justlemmeadoreyou]

Serendipity*

Summary-Harry meets you at the most unexpected of places, and helps you like a knight in a wedding suit. It all starts at your best friend's wedding, where you find yourself in a predicament without an escort. As panic sets in, Harry appears, sent by the groom's brother to fill in as your last-minute companion. From that moment, a serendipitous connection begins to bloom between you both.

Words: 5k

Warnings: LOVE! SO MUCH LOVE AND SWEETNESS AND SOFTNESS IN THIS ONE! BUT ALSO-kissing, bathing together, p in v sex, a bit of cursing, loads of fluff.

♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡

You stood in the bridal suite, your best friend Amelia bustling around in her stunning wedding gown. The room was a whirlwind of emotions—excitement, joy, and a hint of nervousness. It was her big day, and you couldn't have been happier for her.

Months of planning had led to this moment, and you had been Ame’s right-hand woman every step of the way. The dress, the flowers, the decorations—you had been there for it all. Today was the culmination of her dreams, and you were thrilled to witness her marry the love of her life.

As the time for the ceremony approached, you could feel your heart beating faster. You had the honor of being her maid of honor, and you couldn't wait to stand by her side as she walked down the aisle. But there was one small hiccup—the absence of your escort.

Panic set in as you looked around the room, realizing that you were missing the crucial piece of the bridal party puzzle. "Where's my escort?" you asked, your voice betraying the tension building inside you.

Ames looked at you with concern. "What do you mean? Did something happen to your partner? He was supposed to be here long ago–"

Your mind raced, trying to figure out a solution. The best man was missing. Great. Now, you were left without a partner, the groom was left without the best man, and the thought of walking down the aisle alone made your stomach churn.

You fiddled with your fingers, heart throbbing in your chest as your mind reeled. This was a disaster. So many people couldn’t make it–most of them were supposed to be there for backup if anything bad happened and now, along with them,–your escort was missing too. You were beginning to think if you were the bad luck here.

“I’ll see if someone else is willing, the guests are already out there and I’ll look like a moron but I will–” you rambled, sweat forming on your forehead. This was a bad habit of yours. Panicking so much that you wore yourself down, and if you didn’t breathe and relax, your makeup and hair would be ruined and–

Just as you were about to leave the room in a haste, the door knocked. You all looked at each other with curious gazes, oblivious to who it was.

“Who is that? All of us are here and maybe it’s your dad–” 

You stood by the door, taking a deep breath, preparing yourself to explain it all in case they ask what is taking so long.

But, as you opened the door, you opened it slightly, just in case it was the groom, Eddie.

To your surprise, it was someone else–someone you haven't met before. He was sharply dressed, suit and all, piercing green eyes looking straight into yours.

“I’m sorry-I don’t know you” you asked, and he smiled.

“I’m Harry. I’m a friend of Amelia’s brother. Your escort wasn’t here and Eddie was freaking out, so he sent me here”

You searched his eyes, and they were so calm, so soft. Your heartbeat began to steady, and you walked out of the door, closing it shut, even though it was time.

“You’re sure you won’t mind? Or you're not taken by someone else?”

He chuckled, a sound that you know you will be longing to hear once again. 

“No-I’m not taken by someone else. That’s why I came here. To help you in case you need it. What’s your good name?”

You were lost in the way his lips moved as he talked, completely phasing out and not listening to a word he said. God, he was so pretty.

“Hello?” he asked once again, completely aware of how your gaze was fixated on him. He couldn’t lie, he knew he looked irresistible. But the way you were ogling him in the time of crisis–it was something he hadn’t seen before.

“Hello” he said again, waving his hand over your face to obstruct your view, and that’s what broke your gaze. You blinked rapidly, mumbling “Sorry” before asking him what he said.

“What’s your name?”

“I’m Y/n. But–what about the best man?”

“I am the best man. It was supposed to be Archie, I know. But this wedding was a last minute plan and he’s drunk as hell right now in Vegas.”

“Oh God. I told them not to get married one week after the proposal. But who would listen to me? I’m just the maid of honor after all. I swear if anything, anything happens, I will–” You were stopped by him, as he said,  “Y/n. The wedding”

“Yeah. sorry”

You pulled the door back open, Ames coming out, and Harry fawned over how perfect she looked. He was like a brother to her, and you never met this gorgeous, gorgeous man till now. How?

Her father came soon, ready to walk her down the aisle.

You look at her one last time, her face glowing and so, so pretty. Her hair, the dress, the veil–it’s all so perfect.

“Let’s walk you down the aisle.”

>>>

As you made your way down the aisle, all eyes were on you and Harry. You couldn't help but feel a little self-conscious, but Harry's hand on your arm gave you the confidence to keep walking with your head held high.

You could see Amelia and her soon-to-be husband at the end of the aisle, both looking nervous and excited. You couldn't help but smile at the sight of them, knowing how much they loved each other. The priest stood behind them , ready to commence the wedding.

As you reached the altar, Harry stepped aside and you took your place next to Amelia. The ceremony began and you couldn't help but feel emotional as you watched your best friend exchange vows with the love of her life. The rings were exchanged, and kisses and promises were made. It was the perfect wedding that she had planned, and you were so glad you would make it happen for her in such short notice.

During the reception, Harry proved to be the perfect replacement for the missing best man. He made everyone laugh with his witty jokes and kept the party going with his dance moves. After the dance of the bride and groom, everyone was slow dancing–even your father and mother, and they looked so cute together.

You were sitting by one of the tables, sipping water and looking at them all.

Harry appeared beside you, letting you finish up your water, before looking down at you, offering you his hand, “Can I have a dance?” he asked.

You smiled, wiping some of the drops from your lips carefully, and nodding happily.

“I would love to dance with you, Harry”

You held his hand and got up, letting him lead you to the dance floor. Once you stood in front of each other, you instinctively placed your arm on his shoulder, his coming to rest on your waist. You both held each other’s hands then–intertwining your fingers, and they fit so perfectly.

As the music started to play, you could feel Harry’s body moving in sync with yours. He led you gracefully around the dance floor, his steps confident and smooth. 

You couldn’t help but admire his movements, the way he effortlessly glided across the floor.

“You’re a fantastic dancer, Y/N” Harry whispered in your ear, making you blush at the praise.

 “Thank you, but I think you’re the one making me look good,” you replied, teasingly. He chuckled, spinning you around before pulling you back into his arms. Your chests collided, and you looked up at him, getting lost in his piercing green eyes. 

“You know, I could get used to dancing with you like this” Harry said, his voice low and husky, his words meant for your ears only. You couldn’t resist the urge to press your body closer to his, feeling the heat radiating between the two of you. 

“I could too” you breathed out, feeling your heart flutter at the intense gaze he was giving you. The two of you continued to dance, your bodies moving fluidly together as if you were one. You could feel the music pulsing through your veins, heightening every touch and every movement. 

As the song came to an end, Harry pulled you into a gentle embrace, his hand caressing your back soothingly. 

“That was amazing, Y/N” he said, his voice full of admiration. 

“I couldn’t agree more, '' you replied, a smile spreading across your face, and a blush spread across your cheeks. 

As the night went on, you and Harry found ourselves lost in each other's company. You talked about everything and anything, laughing and sharing stories. You found yourself enjoying his company more and more as the night went on. He was charming, funny, and easy to talk to. You couldn't believe you had just met him today.

But as the night came to an end, it was time for the bride and groom to leave. You both rushed back to the reception, saying your goodbyes to them before they left.

But before, it was time for her to toss the bouquet.

Everyone cheered as she came into view, holding the bouquet as all the single girls gathered behind her, ready to catch it and be the next to marry. You didn’t have a boyfriend, but you wanted to be there for her.

"Alright, here goes nothing!" Amelia exclaimed, her voice filled with excitement.

As the bouquet soared through the air, you watched in amazement, hardly daring to believe her luck. In a surreal moment, the bouquet seemed to be heading directly towards you, almost as if guided by fate itself. Without even consciously trying, your hands instinctively reached out, and to your astonishment, you felt the soft petals and stems of the bouquet in your grasp.

Gasps of surprise echoed around the room as you stood there, stunned, clutching the bouquet tightly to your chest. You quickly glanced around, wide-eyed, as the other girls congratulated you with genuine smiles, though perhaps tinged with a hint of envy.

Amelia, the radiant bride, beamed at you, her eyes shining with joy. "Looks like someone's next in line for love!" she teased, her voice filled with excitement.

You couldn't help but laugh, feeling a rush of happiness and disbelief wash over you. "I-I can't believe it! And I don’t even have a boyfriend" you stammered, voice shaky and still in shock from the unexpected turn of events.

Soon, it was time for them to leave, and as Ames and Eddie said their goodbyes, kissing and laughing as they sat in the car, ready to leave.

You hugged her for one last time, pressing a soft kiss to her cheek. Pulling back, he pulled her back, and they both got in the car, driving away.

It was all like a dream. A perfect dream that had come true.

You were happy, smiling as you watched their car disappear into the darkness, and it was after a while that you realized you had lost harry.

Panic started to set in as you searched every corner of the reception hall, but Harry was nowhere to be found. You asked around, but no one had seen him. Just as you were about to give up and accept that you had lost him, you felt a tap on your shoulder.

Turning around, you saw Harry standing there with a sheepish smile on his face. “Sorry, I got lost in the crowd, and then some girl came to talk to me, and I think she was trying to get my number, but I shrugged her off. I couldn't leave without saying goodbye to you,” he said, his eyes full of sincerity.

Relief flooded through you as he pulled you into a tight hug. “I couldn't leave without saying goodbye to you either,” you replied, hugging him back just as tightly. It was instinct, and none of you cared that you had hugged.

Pulling back, you stared into each other’s eyes for a moment too long. You wanted to say something, wanted to ask him if he was taken, but you were scared.

He definitely was taken. A charming British man who looked so good, made you laugh and was so perfect.

So, you decided to shrug it off, the feeling of wanting to hold him once again, pulling at the strings of your heart. He was perfect, so perfect. And so dreamy.

“So–you shrugged off a girl?” you asked, trying to lighten the mood, and to dissipate the thick tension in the air between you two.

“Oh–yeah” he chuckled, one which you were maybe hearing for the last time.

“Yeah, so was being a bit touchy, and I was uncomfortable, so I told her. And–then she asked for my number, so-”

“So?”

“I said no”

“Because–you’re seeing someone? Because if you’re not, that was kinda stupid–I think. Weddings are real meet-cutes.” you asked, raising your eyebrows at him.

“No–uh, um, I’m not seeing someone, it’s just–I didn’t want her number. I–I wanted yours.”

The words hit you like a brick wall. You were not expecting him to say that. The girl who approached him was probably pretty, and definitely prettier than you. Then why did he say no to her, and yes to you?

“Me–cool cool cool cool cool” you stammered, and looked down, blushing and having no idea what to say next.

He sensed your dilemma, and held your hand in his.

“Y/n–please, look at me”

But you couldn’t bring yourself to. He was so pretty and so perfect and here he was, standing in front of you, asking for your number after rejecting someone else.

And you knew, if you looked up, you would definitely fall in love with him.

Harry waited for you to look up at him, and when you didn’t, he lifted his right hand, holding your chin softly and lifting your face up, making you look into his eyes.

And it was over for you. You fell for him.

“Y/n–I really like you. And what we shared today–the dance, the talks, the laughs–it was so perfect. You’re so perfect. And I didn’t talk to that girl or dance or laugh with her. I did all that with you. And–I think I’ve fallen for you”

Tears welled up in your eyes, and you choked out a laugh. It was so unexpected, but it felt like it was meant to be. His hand was in yours, and he was holding it with so much promise. And on your other hand, was the bouquet. A promise. 

“Y/n–will you go on a date with me?” he asked, and you nodded immediately, wiping a stray tear that had fallen on your cheeks. You immediately pulled him in for a hug, holding him close tightly, never wanting to let go.

>>>

Your first date was a week later.

Harry called you to his house, and he had texted you his address. He didn’t say what he had planned for tonight. He wanted it to be a surprise, and you knew it would be beautiful.

As you arrived at Harry's house, your heart fluttered with anticipation. You had no idea what he had planned for tonight, but you knew it would be something special, just like him. Stepping out of your car, you made your way to his front door, excitement bubbling inside you.

Harry greeted you with a warm smile, his eyes sparkling with mischief as he led you inside. "I'm so glad you're here," he said, taking your hand in his. "I've got something amazing planned for us tonight."

You couldn't help but smile back, feeling a rush of excitement coursing through your veins. "I can't wait to see what you've come up with," you replied, your heart pounding with anticipation.

After a quick drive, you arrived at a secluded spot far from the city lights, where the stars shone brightly overhead. The air was crisp and cool, and the sound of laughter and music filled the night.

"What is this place?" you asked, gazing around in wonder at the vibrant scene before you.

Harry grinned, his eyes dancing with excitement. "It's a lantern festival," he explained, looking so happy. "I thought it would be the perfect setting for our first date."

You felt a surge of delight at the sight of the colorful lanterns lighting up the night sky. "It's incredible," you exclaimed, taking in the festive atmosphere around you.

As you wandered through the festival, hand in hand with Harry, you felt a sense of peace and contentment wash over you. Everywhere you looked, couples and families were gathered together, laughing and enjoying each other's company.

"We should release a lantern," Harry suggested, his eyes shining with excitement. "But what should we write on it?"

You paused for a moment, pondering the question. And then, a smile spreads across your face as an idea forms in your mind. "How about our initials?" you suggested, squeezing Harry's hand gently.

He smiled back at you, his eyes soft with affection. "I love that idea," he replied, pulling you close for a hug.

Together, you made your way to the lantern station, where a kind elderly man handed you a lantern and a marker. 

“This is so beautiful, Harry. Thank you for this” you thanked him, as he, with trembling hands, wrote your initials on the surface of the lantern. He smiled at you, finishing it up, and taking your hand once again, ready to light it up and set it afloat.

You reached the top of the hill, heart pounding in your chest as you stopped. He held the lantern, and you carefully lit the matchstick, lighting the tiny wick under it on fire.

With Harry by your side, you watched as the lantern soared gracefully into the air, its soft glow illuminating the darkness around you.

After that, there was a second date. And then a third, after which, you both started dating.

It was at dinner at a restaurant, and he had specifically naked you to dress up for it. You knew he was going to ask you to be his girlfriend. But that didn’t help calm your nerves.

You had worn a red dress, one that you had bought a long time ago. It still fits you well, and you couldn’t wait for Harry to see you in this. 

As you stepped into the restaurant, your heart raced with anticipation. The soft glow of candlelight danced across the elegant dining room, casting a warm and intimate atmosphere.

Harry's eyes lit up as he saw you, dressed in the red dress you had carefully chosen for this occasion. "Wow," he breathed, his gaze lingering on you, for a moment too long. That was exactly what you had wished when you put it on.

 "You look absolutely stunning." he complimented, finally lifting his gaze from the dress and bringing it to your face.

A blush crept onto your cheeks as you took in his handsome appearance as well, dressed in a sharp suit that accentuated his strong features. "Thank you," you replied, smiling shyly. "You don't look too bad yourself."

As you settled into your seats, the air crackled with anticipation. Harry reached across the table, taking your hand in his. "I wanted tonight to be special," he began, his voice soft and earnest. "There's something I've been wanting to ask you."

Your heart skipped a beat as you met his gaze, sensing the gravity of his words. "What is it?" you asked, barely able to contain your excitement.

Harry took a deep breath, his eyes shining with emotion. "I've enjoyed every moment we've spent together, and ‘m really happy when I’m with you," he confessed. "Will you be my girlfriend?"

"Yes, Harry, yes!" you exclaimed, throwing your arms around him in a tight embrace.

He pulled you close, his lips finding yours in a tender kiss that sent sparks flying. The world fell away as you melted into each other, lost in the sweetness of the moment.

After dinner, you made your way back to Harry's place, the anticipation building with each step. As you entered his apartment, the air hummed with electricity, charged with the promise of what was to come.

You kissed each other, hands pulling at each other’s clothes and pulling them off. You reached the bedroom, laughing and giggling,and locking the door.

You stood in front of Harry, your hands running down his chest, you couldn't help but admire the muscles that rippled beneath his skin. His hands traced the curves of your body, his touch sending shivers down your spine. “You're so beautiful,” he whispered, his gaze filled with adoration.

You felt your cheeks heat up at his words, a shy smile forming on your lips. “And you're so handsome,” you replied, your fingers tangling in his hair as you pulled him in for a passionate kiss.

His lips were soft and warm against yours, moving in perfect sync as your tongues danced together. You could feel the heat building between your bodies, the need for each other growing with each passing moment.

As you broke apart, gasping for air, Harry's hands moved down to your hips, pulling you closer to him. “I want you,” he whispered, his voice husky with desire.

You nodded, your own need for him evident in the way your body pressed against his. He led you to the bedroom, your hands never leaving each other's bodies. As you entered the room, the soft glow of candles greeted you, casting a warm light on the bed.

Harry gently pushed you down onto the soft sheets, his lips trailing down your neck as he peppered kisses along your skin. “You're so fucking perfect,” he murmured, his hands caressing every inch of your body.

You moaned at his touch, the sensations overwhelming you. His lips moved down to your chest, his tongue flicking over your nipple before sucking it gently into his mouth. Your back arched off the bed, your fingers tangling in his hair as you let out a soft moan.

He moved lower, his lips leaving a trail of fire down your stomach. Your breath hitched as he reached your core, his tongue tracing circles around your clit. You let out a low moan, your hips moving in rhythm with his mouth.

“Harry,” you gasped, your fingers gripping the sheets as he continued to pleasure you. He looked up at you, his eyes filled with desire as he added a finger inside you, making you cry out in pleasure. His finger was moving so well, hitting all the right spots. 

You could feel yourself getting closer and closer to the edge, your body trembling with need. “I'm going to come,” you moaned, your fingers tightening in his hair.

As you reached your peak, Harry's lips never leaving your body, you let out a cry of pleasure, your body shaking with ecstasy. He crawled back up to you, his lips capturing yours in a passionate kiss, his hand moving to pleasure you once again.

As he entered you, your bodies moved together in perfect harmony, the pleasure coursing through every inch of your being. Your moans filled the room, mixing with Harry's as your bodies moved as one.

“I love you,” he whispered against your lips, his thrusts becoming more urgent as he approached his own climax.

“I love you too,” you replied, your voice filled with emotion as you reached your peak together, your bodies trembling with pleasure.

You lay in each other’s arms, breathing ragged, but bodies satisfied and contented. He pulled you close, kissing your forehead and cheeks, making you feel so pretty.

“We should clean up. Have a bath with me?” he asked after a moment or so, and you nodded. He pulled you close, but your legs were like jello, so he lifted you up like a koala, and carried you to the bathroom, making you sit on the toilet seat in case you wanted to pee, and went to get the shower ready.

You both cleaned each other. Blowing bubbles and suds, throwing water at each other, gigging, and so happy. 

You threw some water at him, and a bit of soap got in his eyes. You panicked, immediately running the tap again and helping him wash it.

“Oh fuck—I’m sorry, Harry–I dodn’t mean to, I was just playing, are you alright?”

He started giggling, throwing his arms at his chest and laughing at you like you were a clown.

“Ahhh” you yelled, throwing water at him again, and yelling at him for making you scared. He pulled you close once again, kissing your mouth as you lay in there for what felt like hours.

>>>

The next few months of your relationship were a blur, each moment with Harry feeling like a dream come true. You both were incredibly compatible, sharing laughter, adventures, and countless memories together. But just as your love was blossoming, a job opportunity arose for Harry – one that would take him to another state for a year.

At first, the news felt like a punch to the gut. The thought of being apart from Harry filled you with an overwhelming sense of sadness and uncertainty. But as you talked it over with him, you realized that this was an opportunity he couldn't pass up. It was a chance for him to advance in his career, to chase his dreams, and you couldn't be prouder of him.

So, you made a promise to each other – to make the most of the time you had left together, to cherish every moment, and to stay connected no matter the distance. As the days passed, you cherished each date, each kiss, and each shared laugh as if it were your last.

And when the day finally came for Harry to leave, it was bittersweet. Tears streamed down your cheeks as you held him tight, unwilling to let go. But as you looked into his eyes, you saw nothing but love and determination.

"I'll be back before you know it," he promised, pressing a tender kiss to your forehead. "And I'll call you every chance I get, I promise."

With a heavy heart, you watched him drive away, the distance between you growing with each passing mile. But as the days turned into weeks and the weeks into months, you stayed connected through phone calls, texts, and video chats.

And despite the distance, your love only grew stronger. You supported each other through the challenges, celebrated each other's successes, and counted down the days until you could be together again.

>>>

The days apart seemed to stretch on endlessly, each one filled with a longing that seemed to pierce through the very fabric of your being. You counted down the hours, the minutes, the seconds until you would once again be reunited with Harry, your heart aching with the absence of his presence.

But even in the midst of the pain, you held onto the memories of your time together, each one a beacon of light in the darkness of your separation. You replayed the moments you had shared in your mind, savoring the warmth of his touch, the sound of his laughter, the depth of his love.

And then, at long last, the day arrived. You stood at the airport, your heart pounding in your chest as you scanned the crowd for any sign of Harry. And then, there he was, striding towards you with that familiar smile that melted your heart.

You ran into his arms, tears of joy streaming down your face as you held him close, unable to believe that he was finally here, with you, where he belonged.

And then, in a moment that felt like something out of a fairytale, Harry got down on one knee, his eyes shining with love as he held out a small velvet box.

"Y/N," he said, his voice trembling with emotion. "I never want to spend another day apart from you. Will you do me the honor of being my wife?"

Your heart swelled with love as you nodded, tears of happiness blurring your vision. Harry slipped the ring onto your finger, a perfect fit, just like the two of you.

And as you embraced, you knew that this was the moment you had been waiting for. This was the moment that made all the distance and all the struggles worth it. You were here, in each other's arms, and nothing else mattered.

"I promise to always love you," Harry whispered, his voice barely above a whisper. "To support you, to stand by your side no matter what."

"I promise to make every day with you an adventure," he continued, his eyes locked on yours. "To cherish and adore you for all eternity."

And as he leaned in to kiss you, you knew that this was just the beginning of your magical love story. A story that had been tested by distance and time, but had only grown stronger because of it.

And as you held each other close, you couldn't help but smile, knowing that you had found your serendipity – a love that was unexpected, yet destined, a love that would guide you through every twist and turn of life's journey, forever and always. You never knew that you had found the love of your life at that wedding, the person who was your last-minute escort would be the one you would marry one day, and love and cherish forever.

♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡

i love you all 💌tell me if you like this! please reblog or comment if you like, it makes my heart happy :)

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[dustysalmon]

Eye of the Storm - Chapter 1

Pairing: Silco x Reader Rating: Explicit Warnings/Tags: graphic depiction of violence; slow burn; enemies to lovers, enforcer!reader Word count: 4.5k

Summary: After a chain of unexpected events, Jinx is arrested, and you find yourself in possession of the gemstone. On top of it all, you are forced into a reluctant alliance with Silco. What else could possibly go wrong?

Takes up at the end of episode 7.

Read on ao3 ⎜ Next chapter

It is not the first time your unit has been called to assist at the borders, although it’s been years since topside ordered a complete blockade.

The panic had been evident on the councillors faces during the meeting that preceded your affectation. They fear the escalation of violence after the bombing in the city center as well as the murder of several enforcers earlier this week. There have even been rumours of an organised rebellion rising from the undercity, ready to strike multiple strategic places in Piltover. But those are just that, rumours. You have heard other rumours. Apparently, whoever killed those enforcers also decided to drop by the safe holds of the Council and steal something. The authorities have been suspiciously secretive about the ordeal, but you have a feeling it has to do with hextech. And the Council, usually quick to shy away from firm countermeasures, has made the decision to take a stand a little too rashly for your taste. This, plus the sudden removal of Heimerdinger’s seat at the table… No, there is something else at stake here, something bigger and perhaps more preoccupying than they are letting on.

And so here you are, on the south east bridge, among dozens of other enforcers. They don’t seem too aware or concerned about the actual reason for their presence, but they certainly appear to enjoy roughing up a couple Zaunites just for the thrill of it. Within the span of two days, you have already sent eight of your officers home. Young hot shots, mostly here to see some action and prove themselves in front of their comrades. People who shouldn’t be in the force to begin with, but the enforcers’ body always has and will continue to accept just about anybody within their ranks. It was a cesspool of violent and morally lacking folks long before you arrived and will remain exactly that for years to come. 

The majority of the officers mobilised for the Council’s big display of power aren’t trained to handle riots anyway, that much is obvious, and the entire situation is bound to turn to shit eventually. Regardless, you have traded your rifle for a good old baton, and encouraged your men to do the same. The firearm is tightly secured at your back— you’re lenient, not stupid—but the rioters have been fairly docile since the first barricades were installed, armed with nothing more than cardboard signs and harmless smoke bombs. Hardly a challenge at all, not to mention, you would like to avoid needless mayhem if you can help it. Your superior, Warren, strongly disagrees. Well, superior in name only; the man barely has any field experience, hardly ever steps out of the comfort of Piltover; a textbook office rat. If you had to guess, you would say this is the first time he’s actually come face to face with Zaunites. He has never hidden his utter repulsion for the latter— he usually refers to them as trenchers— and this new assignment is a godsend. He would drown them all in the gutter if he had his way. Halas, the Sheriff’s position was swept right from under his nose by Marcus, equally hateful and ambitious at the time. The years have tamed him for sure, although you still find it hard to explain his complete one-eighty when it comes to dealing with the undercity. Once, he was determined to give them hell, back when he was just a rookie, always babbling on about how he would handle the "Zaunite problem", and offering solutions (if you can call them that) that would have met quite the success among the most monstrous tyrants. 

When his impromptu promotion was announced, you had expected him to take full advantage of his new position and act on his threats. In fact, you had expected something very much like the events unfolding before you right now: blockades, raids, random inspections, an obnoxious display of strength—the whole circus. But instead, most of the troops had retreated completely from Zaun, leaving the undercity in a situation reminiscent of when Vander was in charge. The streets had been left completely unmonitored, allowing numerous gangs to rise and breed terror in the underground. Any sense of community ceased to exist in the blink of an eye, quickly replaced with defiance, greed and violence. Funny thing, that it took one man, one figure to hold a whole city together. Take him out of the equation, and an entire city is lost. And then came Shimmer, the final step that made all hell break loose. 

You had often wondered whether a complete occupation would have made a difference. In a way, you had your answer now. It wouldn’t have changed a damn thing. The economy down there was frozen, leaving the poorest Zaunites in even worse conditions than before, if that was possible. Controlled chaos, that’s all this is. And the Council is probably looking at the current state of things and congratulating themselves on their good work. It has become routine lately, but once more you wonder what it is you’re doing here exactly.

In the cacophony you hear your name being called from the crowd and recognise a familiar face. Without a second thought, you strut towards the noisy crowd.

"I wouldn’t get too close if I were you." Warren says from behind you, eyeing the mob suspiciously. You offer him a snarky grin.

"What’s the matter, Warren, afraid of a couple sticks and stones?" You relish in the laughter that emanates from the group of enforcers surrounding him before Warren silences them with a death glare, his face red with both anger and embarrassment. When he turns back, probably to reprimand you, you’re already on the other side of the bridge. 

You walk past the last line of enforcers, the big ones, hidden behind their goggles and masks. Not necessarily the best intermediary for parlay or negotiations. You come face to face with an elder man, a fisherman’s hat screwed low on his head, just above his tired blue eyes. He hunches over the barricade towards you.

"How long is this gonna last? They just suspended all exportation of goods. We’re suffocating down here." He shouts, hands gesticulating in the air, but you can barely hear him over the racket.

"I know that, but my hands are tied here, Lou." You say apologetically. 

The economies of the upper and undercity are very much interdependent, even if that is mostly true one way more than the other, of course. Numerous Zaunites work on the other side of the stream, some fortunate and gifted kids have the opportunity to study in the University district. And while it is true that Piltovians prefer to rely on their own supplies and food, they import daily from the undercity, whether it be fish, brews, or local foodstuffs. 

Contrary to popular belief, it is not rare for topsiders to stoop to undercity level, although it is usually for more illicit activities. Shimmer consumption, human trafficking, money laundering, you name it. Needless to say that the blockade doesn’t impact topside nearly as much as it does Zaun. It makes no difference to Piltovians if it lasts for weeks, months, or possibly even years. But the undercity’s days would soon become numbered if the situation doesn’t evolve. 

A huge detonation is heard on the far side of the bridge and leaves your ears whistling for a few seconds. When you come to, there is a thick cloud of smoke rising from the same spot, but you can still make out the enforcers’ silhouettes as they charge into the protesters. Idiots. You barely have the time to turn back to Lou when another loud boom erupts. Then another. It’s really on now. You grab at the old man’s shoulder, a grave look on your face. 

"Go home, Lou. Now!" He doesn’t need to be told twice, still, you follow him with your eyes until he disappears from view. You realise only too late the tear gas canisters that have been thrown all around you. You reach for your mask but the gas is already stinging your nose and  assaulting your senses, it feels like your entire face is burning. Tears start to fall down your cheeks as you struggle to pull out your goggles. The gas has settled in your eyes now, and the  eyewear obviously won’t change that, but you can’t think clearly at the moment and put them on regardless as you start to pull back to your squad. In the distance, you can hear Warren shouting hysterically, asking for more gas, more pressure on the line, always more. He calls to you once you are back in the safe perimeter.

"Sticks and stones, huh?" He taunts you, and you can clearly imagine his stupid face mocking you behind the mask. 

"All of this for a bit of smoke?!" You refrain from calling him a dumbass in front of everyone else, although just barely, but you don’t even try to hide the anger and exasperation in your voice. He can launch disciplinary actions if he likes, this whole operation is already a complete disaster, and he will suffer the consequences too. You throw a quick look at the mess happening all around you. Utter panic among the protesters, untrained enforcers, and an incompetent chief. And people will wonder what could possibly have gone wrong. You sigh. On second thought, let Warren drag you in front of the Council if he wishes, you will have a lot of things to say.

You blink the last of the gas from your eyes and gather your thoughts. So the protests have gone up a notch after all, that much is true. But you remain convinced that the blockade is bad news for everyone. You grab the megaphone and clear your irritated throat as best as you can while your colleagues prepare to launch another charge. This will not be a quiet night after all.

Two hours, that’s all the time you get before you are unexpectedly called back for duty. You gulp down a can of hot soup, hop into a fresh blue uniform, and you’re out the door. For the first time, you are stationed on the main bridge, where you’ve heard things tend to be more heated. It is a last minute change, and very little information is given to you about your purpose here tonight, but it must be important if the Sheriff’s presence is any indication. Typically, back-up is hardly ever needed at night fall, most of the protesters leave at around 7 p.m. and come back at midday. So it is without surprise that you find the bridge perfectly calm and silent, with a large group of enforcers standing by. They seem to be waiting for something, or someone. You rapidly go over some procedures with your squad and dispatch them at key locations around the area before finding Marcus. 

"So, what’s this all about, Sheriff?" You truly loathe to call him that, but the man likes having his ego stroked every now and then. Might as well play the good cop card in order to squeeze what you can out of him. You’re met with a suspicious and frankly condescending look. Whatever information it is you’re asking for, it would seem it is above your pay grade.

"We’re meeting someone. Your team is here to make sure it all goes smoothly."

Not much to go with, but the gears are already spinning in your head. Could it be that the person responsible for the attacks and the break-in in Piltover had requested a face to face in order to calm things down; seeing as the situation had escalated today. A request for parlay, perhaps, or a negotiation. You lower your tone as your address Marcus again.

"This whole thing," you gesture at the barricades on the bridge, "it’s about Hextech, isn’t it.?" His eyes grow wide, and the way he freezes all but confirms your suspicions. For all his ability to play the Council like a fiddle, the man had always had always been terrible at concealing his emotions. 

"How’d you figure that out?" He asks seriously. You snort.

"A raid in the Council’s stronghold? Let’s just say I seriously doubt that whoever broke in came for Heimerdinger’s book collection." You say sarcastically.

Suddenly, the spotlights come to life, and a masked enforcer joins the two of you.

"They’re here, sir." Marcus nods and turns to you.

"Get behind the second line, and stay there unless ordered otherwise." You are about to protest but he is already moving forward with a small squad. The audacity, to call you here during your off-hours only to have you hang back and away from the main event. Regardless, you start to back up slowly, keeping attentive eyes fixed before you. In the distance, two figures emerge from the evening mist, progressing towards the roadblock. The enforcers take aim and start walking too, meeting them in the middle with Marcus flanking them. His hands are clasped behind his back, and he seems awfully relaxed despite the nagging tension in the air. 

You end up much further away than you would like, but orders are orders. You squint painfully in order to catch whatever you can from the exchange. The two silhouettes are clearer now, thanks to the powerful lights; a young boy and a woman, unarmed and without backup, at least none that you can see from your position. Your eyes focus on the boy, on his outfit more specifically, and it takes you about a second to connect the dots. The mask dangling from his hip, the bandana tied around his neck, the big flying board strapped to his back. A Firelight. And not just any member of the controversial gang, this one is none other than the leader, Ekko. And next to him is— no, that makes no sense—Kiramman? You blink a few times. Surely your sleep-depraved mind is playing tricks on you. But it is her, Caitlyn Kiramman, daughter of senior councillor Cassandra Kiramman, and a very promising enforcer who suddenly went rogue not even a week ago, or so the Sheriff insisted. 

An enforcer and a Firelight, quite the odd pairing indeed, especially since the latter have recently been designated as the prime suspects of the recent attacks that shook Piltover at the core. Even though as far as you are concerned, the accusation makes no sense. You have yet to see the so-called irrefutable evidence that has been found against them, evidence which has never been officially presented, but led to the blockade of the entire city regardless. 

It had always been your belief that the Enforcement body put too much effort in fighting the Firelights. The only trouble they cause is against the Eye of Zaun’s production of Shimmer, which topside should be grateful for; if anything, the Firelights are doing most of the work for them. True, they had attacked a shipment over the city not that long ago, but it was clear that Piltover was not their target. It is something you have been thinking about for a while now, this obsession with the Firelights, when crime and Shimmer are the true plagues and spreading like never before.

From the distance you see Marcus ordering his men to stand back as he moves forward to meet with Kiramman and Ekko. No matter how many times you turn the problem over in your head, you can’t make head or tail out of this alliance. Although you have a feeling this little night encounter will clarify a few points. The young boy pulls some sort of protective cylinder from behind him, although he seems reluctant to show what hides inside. He opens it eventually, leading Marcus to inch closer in order to inspect the goods. There’s a pause, the party gauges each other out in apparent uncomfortable silence. Whatever the Firelight boy revealed has definitely caught the Sheriff’s interest, although not enough to conclude a bargain it would seem. Marcus just stands there motionless, as if weighing his options. Kiramman is talking to him now, you can only assume she is pushing for some sort of deal, an exchange perhaps, intel for intel. Money? Surely Marcus wouldn’t… You suddenly stop all speculation and watch in complete shock as he pulls out his pistol and fires a single shot, square in the boy’s stomach. The latter collapses, forcefully projected backwards with the power of the point blank shot. 

Silence reigns on the bridge, save for a few crows cawing and flying away, the rest suspended in time, waiting. What the hell. 

Marcus is now aiming at a discomfited Caitlyn, a rare sight, and his men have started to move forward, getting in formation around the woman. They exchange words, but Marcus does most of the talking as Caitlyn looks too petrified to speak. Orders be damned, you leave the line of enforcers who are currently staring incredulously at each other, as shocked as you are. There’s a figure running towards the meeting point, it appears to be a woman, but you can barely make her out through the fog. What you can clearly see, however, is the swarm of small green lights flying at a rapid pace alongside her. Firelights. Hundreds of them, merging to the same location as if they had been summoned there. Then, the cloud of insects lingers above Marcus, Caitlyn and the group of enforcers before descending upon them. A small number reach past the center of the bridge, to you, and you reflexively bat them away. You’ve never liked insects, not from this close anyway, and certainly not in great numbers. Some enforcers hold out their gloved hands to allow the firelights to land, seemingly amused by the situation. Admittedly, it’s quite a pleasant distraction from what usually happens up there— or doesn’t happen. 

A tiny clicking sound emanates from all the bugs at once, like a detonation, and next thing you know, you are violently projected against the bridge’s bannister.

For the next minute or two, the only sound you hear is a numbing and constant whistling in your eardrum. You feel a hot liquid running slowly down the side of your temple, and your head is pounding like a jackhammer. Around you, bodies of enforcers lie limp on the ground in puddles of thick blood. You have seen your share of gruesome and violence, but can’t help the nausea that overtakes you as you scrawl through a sea of freshly detached limbs, the smell of copper filling your lungs. You reach an enforcer, one of the few still conscious. He is moaning in pain, mumbling incoherently as he holds up his arms, both severed at the wrist and forearm. Moans turn to screams as the realisation sinks in, you wonder if he knows his right leg is missing too.

As your hearing gradually comes back, you realise there is something going on at the centre of the bridge, where the explosions did the most damage. Gathering your strength and balance, you rise to your feet and progress towards it. More fighting it would seem. A shot rings in the air and lodges itself in a stone pillar just a couple feet away from you. You march on, unphased, a trembling hand hovering above your holster. You recognise the Firelight leader, who seems to have been untouched by the explosions, and facing him… Those long blue braids, that slender figure. Jinx. And the bombs all make sense now. There’s only one person in this city who would be capable of manufacturing such a weapon, and nobody makes anything go boom like Jinx does, all Enforcers learn that the hard way.

The two teens throw themselves at each other with a speed that makes the fight difficult to follow. Ekko quickly takes the upper hand, pinning the girl down with all his might. One, two, three hard punches square in the face, most people would have been knocked out cold by now, but Jinx struggles as best she can, until her body has nothing left to give. Ekko hovers over her, fist in the air, ready to strike one final blow to her blood-smeared face. But his hand hangs in the air, suspended in time, petrified. 

Your heart sinks at the disturbing spectacle unfolding before you. What leads two children to fight to the death and show such a level of animosity? You don’t have time to answer that question as another large detonation erupts at the exact place where Ekko and Jinx were fighting. 

The boy is the first to emerge, and it appears that the weapon got him good this time. He limps towards you and collapses in your arms. But the second he acknowledges your uniform, he starts struggling weakly against you, moaning in pain against your shoulder. The cries, however, have nothing to do with the physical pain. The stir from utter distress and despair. You don’t insist, and let him go gently, supporting him all the way. 

"You should go." You say as you hear the cavalry starting to make progress from the other side of the bridge. Took them long enough. Ekko, although his head is still pounding, manages a frown.

"Why?" 

"Your work is far from done, kid. Now get going." Your tone is firm enough to get the message across, but warm enough to convey that you care at least a little bit, and Ekko simply nods, peers at you one last time in mild confusion, before limping away through the fog.

A couple feet away, Jinx lies unmoving on the ground, and you pray that she isn’t dead as you approach and crouch beside her. Who knows what King of the underground would do if his protégé was to be taken away from him. The question is what would be obliterated first, Zaun or Piltover. Either way, there would be only ashes left on both sides. You let a sigh of relief escape as you feel a light pulse against the girl’s wrist. However, she needs medical attention, sooner rather than later. Her injuries look severe even to your untrained eyes and she has lost a lot of blood. As you let her arm down, her fingers relax, and a glowing round object rolls from her grasp. You do a double-take as you gape at it. It can’t be. The gemstone. The source of so many turmoils this past month just inches away from you, so shiny and out of place among the debris, as if daring you to take it. 

"Are you alright? Where’s the Sheriff?" You were so taken by the object that you completely missed the hurried footsteps behind you. As quickly and discreetly as possible, you shove the gemstone inside a compartment of your utility belt and turn to face the small group of enforcers gathered at the scene, Warren among them. A sigh of relief escapes you as there’s no trace of the Firelight leader. He had slipped away just in time.

"He did not make it." You say, rising to your feet. The men in uniform exchange incredulous looks. "Help me with the body." They must have missed the urgency in your tone because they remain unmoving, their eyes still taking in the bloodbath. "Come on, Teebo, put those big arms of yours to use." 

"She’s right, boys," Warren jumps in, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. "We’ve been after her for weeks, and now we finally got somethin’ to show for. The Council will be pleased." He stands proudly, hands on his hips as two enforcers work to lift Jinx’s inert body of the ground. "Let’s see how the son of a bitch can manage without his prized pupil—" the sentence dies in his throat and he freezes, shoulders stiffening. He might as well have seen a ghost. "Speaking of the devil."

You've never actually met the Eye of Zaun. You've seen the murals of course, heard the stories, and encountered his goons more times than you can count. But most of all, you've witnessed the damage and destruction he’s caused in the undercity over the past few years— shimmer, gang violence, oppression of the chembarons, child labour. Now, he may not be directly responsible for that last one, but the man has hardly done anything to stop it. It's rampant. Spreading like a disease with no cure in sight. You are all too familiar with it.

As you stand a couple paces away from Silco himself, you finally understand the fear and dread he inspires in both zaunites and pilties alike. His entrance feels almost theatrical and dramatic in the mist. It is just him and two large henchmen…against dozens of armed enforcers. There's no chance, no world in which a fight would go his way. And yet, there isn’t a trace of doubt in his one good eye. He's ready to pounce, to fight to the death like a raging animal to retrieve the girl with blue hair. No one has ever looked at you this way before—with such pure, unfiltered hatred. And you’ve just met the guy.

You take one tentative step forward, but that’s as far as you. Silco’s gaze freezes you in place, and whatever you were about to say gets stuck in your throat.

"Let’s grab him too" Warren urges right from behind you, restless. 

"Those aren’t our orders," you say absently, your attention fixed on the one-eyed man.

"Are you kidding me? We could hit two big fucking birds with one stone. Right here! This could be huge for us."

"Don’t push your luck, Warren. We’ve got the girl. That’s the best bargaining chip we could hope for." That seems to get the point across, and Warren backs down.

"Get her back to the truck. This is a good day, gentlemen, a very good day!" He triumphs as he retreats with the rest of the squad. 

Silco takes a step forward, fists clenched at his side. One of his men grips Jinx’s makeshift mini-gun, finger on the trigger, odds be damned. You advance as well, hanging your rifle on your shoulder, hoping so erase any sign of hostility. If a gunfight was to break out now, Zaun would have to find itself a new leader, and the blue-haired girl would no doubt be caught in the crossfire. Silco, despite his anger and desire to kill everyone in sight to get to Jinx, seems to understand that. His shoulders relax, slowly lowering, and he motions for his men to step back. He remains firmly planted there, challenging you with a look—silent, but deadly. Your heart pounds so hard in your chest that you can hear it in your head. As you watch Silco disappear into the fog, just as he had emerged, you can’t help but wonder if you’ve just signed your own death warrant.

Thank you so much for reading, hope you enjoyed this chapter <3

Chapter 1 ⎜ Chapter 2 ⎜ Chapter 3 ⎜ Chapter 4 ⎜ Chapter 5

[vintagetimetarot]

What blessings are coming into your life very soon? ♡︎🪽

Hello everyone! This reading is inspired by @sillyfoxlady . I’ve been looking for some good PAC topics that bring a positive energy, and this is pretty open ended so I decided to do it. Pick a vintage illustration below for your reading. And when I say very soon, these are blessings coming into your life by your definition of very soon. Whether it means days, weeks, months, whatever. Have fun, and this is a general reading. Please like and rb (maybe even comment) if it resonated with you.

Pile 1: you guys have quite a few blessings coming into your life very soon. I think one of these blessings is having a very good holiday season, specifically with your family. This may include travel as well, and just spending a LOT of time with the people you love. It’ll lift your spirits, and I think you’ll get a message from friends and family, possibly invitations really soon to events, and have a very fun time. People are going to be very kind to you really soon during this time, I honestly see this coming extremely fast, in days. You may reconnect with old friends and family you haven’t spoken to in awhile or see them. Time will go slowly in the sense you will feel like these loving moments last so long, and you’ll enjoy every second of it. For a lot of you I’m getting a specific message that you will have a lot of fun at a family gathering. (Take or how it resonates) you’ll generally just will feel happier and it’s going to stick to you for quite a bit. You’ll find yourself having a mindset change. You’ll be so happy and more positive about things in life. I feel like you’ll also get some clarity on things that were previously bothering you, you’ll get the comfort you need. I also see if you are struggling, whether financially, mentally, or both, you will be taken care of. You’ll realize many people care about you, and many things that happen in the next few days are going to surprise you in a good way. That’s all I got, I hope this resonated!

Pile 2: I see you guys have been working on something lately, and all that work is going to pay off very soon, and your faith will be restored. You’ll develop a better attitude and mindset about whatever this is you are working on, and you will be given the resources and materials to work on this extensively as your blessing. I feel like for most of you this will be a physical material. You will have people help you along the way, I see a masculine energy specifically coming in to help you. I think you’ve been working on this specific thing for a LONG TIME. I think that people are also going to start and acknowledge what this is in a positive light, for some of you what you are working on I don’t think some people in your life approve of, but they are going to have a change of heart. I see that you’ll finally be speaking up for yourself and what you want, and because of this you will be blessed. There are some many unexpected surprises coming your way, the universe or whatever higher power you believe in is asking you to hold onto your faith, because things are gonna change very soon. This is going to be a big refresher for you, you’ll finally be able to relax. This is all I got, I hope this resonated!

Pile 3: I feel like you guys have been searching for answers to something so much, and you’ve become so weary and tired at this point. You want to give up. I think you guys are finally going to be given an opportunity, that is going to give you the best outcome you could ever imagine. You got the two most positive cards in the deck. It’s right above the horizon. I think you’ve been shutting down solutions and help, and just refusing to listen to people, but I see you finally opening up, taking a change and committing to this opportunity. This opportunity is very external, and will give you the chance to finally get some balance in your life. I think this is something you’ve been wanting to change for some time, and it’s finally almost here. I think you will be supported by others in this opportunity given to you, making this very beautiful for you. I think you are gonna get so overwhelmingly happy. You’ll have a change in your mood as well, for the better. This will come very fast and very suddenly. Almost out of nowhere. I feel like this opportunity involves two or more things. This could be two or more people, two or more job offers, etc. but it’ll end up complimenting each other if it makes sense? I see this is something you’ve wished for for a long time I think. Just know it’s all going to work out. This is all I got, I hope this resonated!

Pile 4: You guys are going to be leaving a difficult situation, and entering a very positive one. You are going to be given so many opportunities in your new situation, that it might make you a bit overwhelmed with happiness. You’ll hit the jackpot with this one, and I get a very fated type of energy. You’ll be putting this old situation to rest, and you won’t think about it anymore. For most you reading this, you will be physically moving away from whatever this is as part of a new opportunity. I also think you are going to meet someone new in your life, for the better as a part of this situation. For most of you, this is a romantic situation you’ll be in because of this. I think this will be very clear when it’s happening, you’ll just know. You’ll feel more loved very soon, by somebody. I think this is the person offering these many opportunities to you. It’ll be a sign of relief once you are out this situation. Something tells me this could happen overnight for a small portion of you guys. But even if it’s not overnight, it’s coming soon. You are going to be healthily moving on as well, you won’t be in mourning. The holidays may be very special for you as well, or when all of this goes down. You may be quite nervous about anything changing, but I’m telling you you might be in shock! I feel this is something you previously believed could have never happened. Good luck! This is all I got, I hope this resonated.

[tgmsunmontue]

Season to Taste - 25/? WIP

Explicit Hangster - Celebrity Chef Bradley and Naval Aviator Jake Seresin who have a relationship spanning the globe before they realize how tightly bound they are to one another. Heading into this little world.

PROLOGUE/ONE TWO THREE FOUR FIVE SIX SEVEN EIGHT NINE TEN ELEVEN TWELVE THIRTEEN FORTEEN FIFTEEN SIXTEEN SEVENTEEN EIGHTEEN NINETEEN TWENTY TWENTYONE TWENTYTWO TWENTYTHREE TWENTYFOUR

CHAPTER TWENTYFIVE

                “Customer service is important, but the customer can be a difficult person.”

                “The customer is always right, right?”

                “No. Sometimes they are very wrong. And rude. However you need to temper your own reactions. Sometimes they are assholes, but sometimes they are just having a bad day. Something small may be the last thing that just tips them over, and sometimes you will wear the brunt of that. And sometimes you will be the one experiencing that one little thing that sets you off…”

                “Is this about me losing my temper yesterday?”

                “Maybe,” Leandro pauses, reaches out and pulls Bradley into a hug. “I think I am sometimes too hard on you. We can make our food perfect, but we cannot be perfect ourselves. And expecting others to be perfect will always leave you disappointed.”

                “But what about when they fuck things up?”

                “Do you think they do it with malice in their hearts? On purpose to annoy you or make you look bad?”

                “No…”

                “Then give them a little grace. A little. We can make mistakes. We are human. When it happens over and over, well, then you can maybe find a better solution hmm?”

                “Yeah. Okay.”

…            …            …

                “So I asked him to order thirty bags, and instead he ordered thirty pounds.”

                “What are you going to do with thirty pounds of spinach?” Jake doesn’t know what he’d do with any spinach, isn’t sure he even eats or likes spinach. If he eats it, it’s probably hidden in other things if his sisters are cooking. Leo can also probably make it taste good.

                “Well, I'm making a green risotto, and also making a spinach and ricotta filling... Just, it’s just over twice as much spinach what we usually get delivered. It just kept fucking coming…”

                “This is kind of funny.”

                “Fucking annoying and potentially wasteful, if I hadn't caught it in time.”

                “Noone died. You need to lighten up a little. Can you return it?”

                “Uh…”

                “You didn’t even think about ringing and asking did you?”

                “Fuck.”

                “Oh babe, simplest solution…” Jake says, and he knows the others are making kissy-faces at him, because privacy is hard to come by on a carrier, but he can’t find it anywhere in him to care. So what, he’s soft for his boyfriend. He’s still the best in the air where it matters most to them, and Leo deserves the best, and if he likes Jake being soft then he’ll be the damned softest.

…            …            …

                Bradley feels like a cold hand is digging fingers tight into his heart, long after he and Jake have ended their short call.

                Noone died.

                Jake’s words, said in a joking manner. And no one will die in his kitchen, barring freak explosions. But Jake... Jake's job is far more dangerous. He closes his eyes and forces himself to not borrow trouble. Not over something he has zero control over. There are plenty of people he could ring and talk to, of course there are, about the hazards of being a naval aviator. He knows better than most just how dangerous the job can be. None of the people he could talk to care for Jake like he does, but there are some… He picks up his phone again and presses call.

                “Hello?”

                “Hey Maria…”

                “Bradley. Hi. This is… uh. Unexpected.”

                “Yeah. Sorry. Just uh, nothing’s wrong, I just… wanted to talk to someone else who was maybe worried about him as well.”

                “Oh… shit. Yeah. Your first deployment huh? I wish I could say it gets easier but it sucks and we all hate it. And he’s been out of the nest since he finished high school, so it’s not like we’re used to him being around but…”

                “You really miss his presence when it’s not there huh?”

                “You got it. He’s a pretty big personality when he wants to be.”

                “Yeah.”

                “So… Is it the distance or the danger?”

                “The danger. Uh. I was just wondering how you cope. When he's away doing his pilot shit?”

                “Well, we've been assured he's damn good at that pilot shit you so eloquently called it. He loves flying. What I try and take comfort in, is that the US Navy has spent a lot of money and time training him. And all the naval aviators. It's in their best interests to keep them as safe as possible while they do their jobs... Do you know much about the Navy?”

                Bradley laughs humorlessly.

                “Yeah. A bit.”

                “What does that mean?”

                “My dad was a naval aviator. He died in a training exercise.”

                “Oh. Oh shit. Jake didn’t mention that.”

                “No. It doesn’t exactly make for nice dinner time conversation.”

                “Are you okay with him being a Naval aviator?”

                “Of course. He loves it. Wish the distance wasn’t a thing of course, but it’s fine.”

                “Very pragmatic of you.”

                “I’d rather have the little bits of him that I can than none at all.”

                “Wow. That’s sweet. You’re sweet.”

                “Mostly,” Bradley says with a grin. “Anyway, I have something else I need to bring up. Vi will come and do the actual business talk, but apparently everyone thinks the sauce I made could do well commercially, but I don’t really want to put my name on it. It’s Jake’s sauce…”

                “If everyone could hear you now they would never believe the foul-mouthed and hot-tempered chef Bradley Bradshaw was so smitten with a guy he made him an entire range of ketchups…”

                “Yeah well, it was hurting to watch him put fucking store bought shit on stuff. At least now there’s more nutritional value at least.”

                “If you start making ketchup commercially don’t you think he might get a clue that you’re, I don’t know, more famous that you let on?”

                “He’s seen me on your recipe books. You’re right about him being kind of oblivious about the whole thing.”

                “Yes, well. He won’t care, when he does realize.”

                “Yeah, I think you’re right. He won’t. It’s good, because I’ve got something else which is probably more important to him…”

                “What do you mean?”

                “Well, my dad was a naval aviator and I’ve got a few family friends who are still active. Some of them are quite high up. I think Jake will care more about those than he will about me being famous.”

                “Yes. You are definitely right there. Like… high up family friends?”

                “Like the highest ranking admiral on his current carrier. I asked him to deliver Jake a care package a couple of weeks ago. Jake just mentioned it in passing, no big deal…”

                “Uh…”

                “What?”

                “Oh, he’ll wait until he sees you in person to say something. However, he’ll also have plenty of time to cool down if he was angry about it.”

                “I don’t think he was angry. More curious. It’s not like it’s my actual dad or anything…”

                “Just family friends willing to do you favors. Right.”

                “I’m little orphan Annie. They feel sorry for me.”

                “Hmm. I think you just put on the charm.”

                “Wow Maria, I’m hurt…”

                “Okay, now I see why you and Jake make a good match. I look forward to talking to Vi.”

                “Thanks for the chat…”

                “Anytime Bradley. I mean it.”

…            …            …

                “What are we doing in here?”

                “Well, I know what I’m doing. You just followed me in here like a lost puppy…”

                “Well, I am cute. You didn’t answer my question though.”

                “I’m browsing…”

                “In a culinary store?”

                “Yeah, I want to send Leo something…” Jake says, looking at the different versions of chef whites, and he knows Leo muttered about boring uniform whites, but these are black and have brightly colored fabric on the cuffs and chest piece, and oh… there’s one that’s fucking perfect. He grabs it off the rack and eyes it up, pretty sure it’s the right size, grin wide and he ignores the skeptical eyebrow that Phoenix has raised, clearly unimpressed with his choice.

                “He’s got a giant, uh…” Jake blinks, frowns, his brain not able to come up with the word he’s looking for. “Cock-“

                “I don’t need to know that!”

                “No! Well… no!”

                “La la la la la, I’m not listening!”

                Jake rolls his eyes and pulls her hands away from her ears.

                “What’s another word for male chicken, or cockerel?”

                “Oh,” she lets her hands drop. "You mean rooster?”

                “That’s it! He has a giant rooster tattoo on his leg, and his last name means rooster in Italian…”

                “Oh… okay. Then that’s kind of sweet. Maybe you’re not such a bad catch after all Hangman…”

                “Too late for you to have that realization Phoenix, I am well and truly taken.”

TWENTYSIX

[synnamonroll666]

A Breath Of Fresh Air

Pairing: Fujin x Fem!Reader Description: This heatwave is killing you! Luckily your boyfriend knows exactly how to fix your heated struggles... Warnings: Implied Smut, Nudity, Erection (Lmao), Fluff, And Size Difference... Word Count: 1k A/N: This one was inspired by a prompt given to me by @mornandil. And may I just say thank you, thank you, thank you! It really helped me get out of my writer's block. 😂 I hope you enjoy this, my friend. 🖤 Main MasterList: 🖤 Synny's Angels: @lorebite, @mornandil, @koexchange, @yesitsloulou, @mistmoose, @jasonexo, @fortune-fool02, and @raven-the-cryptid. (If you want to be added to the taglist, let me know in the comments! 🖤)

𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐

"Goddammit!" I cursd loudly as I sit up from where I am laying on the couch, glaring at the fan in front of me that does little to chill my burning flesh.

Fujin—who sits in a chair not to fair away from where I am—glances up from the novel he is reading while quirking a brow, his glowing white eyes averting from the words on the page before him to glance in my direction.

"I'm sorry?" He quarries, his eyes narrowing ever so slightly as if to assess the situation by staring down my features before I tell him what is on my mind.

Realizing what I had said, my cheeks heat with a rosy flush as I look away from my godly lover. I bring a hand up to rub the back of my neck and mentally kick myself for not being more careful with mu choice of words. "I-I'm sorry, Fuj—"

"Nonsense," Fujin's lighthearted voice comes back into play and I glance back up to see his usual playful grin toying on his soft lips. "What is wrong, my dearest?"

"Oh, it's just this damn heat." I roll my eyes as I fall back onto the couch, losing hope in ever getting comfort again. "I'm melting in this heatwave!"

There is a short silence that fills the room before Fujin speaks again. "Mmm, it is quite hot out. Even for me. But..."

"But?" I shoot back up, my eyes broadening slightly with an intrigued glow. Fujin smirks at this, knowing damn well just how desperate I am to have a solution to this burning problem.

"Could say you're burning with desire?" The right corner of his lips pulls up to form a sexy half-smirk on his face, his mischievous eyes burrowing into mine for a moment as he watches me.

With that I let out a scoff, slightly caught off guard by his sudden change in demeanor. Fujin was always one to make jokes, especially if it resulted in me getting flustered by them. This wasn't new to me, but I'd still be caught astonished each time something witty would fly out of the wind god's mouth. It is always expect the unexpected when he was around, which is one of the things I love the most about him.

"Stand up," He then demands, his tone slightly mysterious and hard to place. Raising a confused brow at the man, I stand up, ready for whatever he has planned for me. Though nothing could have prepared me for what he asks of me next. "Now take off your clothes."

"Huh—" I choke out, not expecting such a demand from my lover. "Fujin, it's too hot for s—"

"Just trust me,"

With those words spoken, I realize that whatever he is thinking, it is for my benefit. So within a minute, I am out of my clothes and completely nude before the man. He places down his novel and stands, before stripping himself of his layers as well. My eyes remain wide, taking in the sight before me. His skin glistens in the heat as well, showing signs that even the sun could effect a god on a day like this.

His muscles flex as he takes slow and steady steps in my direction. In a short amount of time, he is in front of me. Tall and broad, he towers over my small form. He wraps his large and muscular arms around my frame, pulling me close to him as he presses his soft lips to mine. And suddenly, the temperature in the room shifts as a soft breeze picks up around us.

Before long, that breeze grows more intense as the kiss does. And by the time his sharp tongue enters my mouth, it's as if the wind has grown into a tornado, disrupting objects in the room. Random objects fly around the room as the tornado picks up speed, us in its center as Fujin's tongue penetrates into my mouth deeper, brushing along my own in a sensual manner.

As this happens, his grip on me grows stronger while his member grows hard between my thighs. I gasp into his mouth, shivering under his touch. The moment lasts for what feels like forever until Fujin let's out a grunt into my mouth as something hits him in the back of his head. He pulls away from me for a moment and glances down at the hard-cover novel laying on the floor by his feet.

We both let out a good chuckle as objects fall to the floor around us, the air consistency falling back to normal as Fujin retracts his powers. My heart pounds in my chest from the heat of the moment, but I do not feel hot. In fact, my body temperature has decreased by a lot.

"How—" I mutter to myself lowly, though my subtle words get cut off by Fujin's hearty chuckle.

"Magic, my dearest." His hand comes up to rest on my cheek momentarily while he gazes into my eyes, a look of love and adoration within his own. "Trust me, it gets better from there."

"Oh, is that so?" I inquire, a smirk adding a hint of playfulness to my smile.

"Want me to show you?"

There is a small glint of excitement in his eyes as he asks this, which makes the serotonin dance in my mind. He tries to play it off as nothing, but it is evident that he is always waiting to show off his powers. For a god, he is a bit of a geek that way. But he is my geek.

"You know the answer to that, my gentle breeze."

His eyes soften at that nickname I call him, his heart reflecting in his glowing orbs for a moment as he watches me intently. Before I know it, I'm tightly wrapped in his embrace again, and the room becomes a capsule of overflowing air once more. And in the middle is us—the heart of the chaos—soaking up the sudden cool temperature, a large contrast to the burning temperature of desire our touch makes us feel within.

𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐

[porcelainbirdss]

those summer nights ⋆·˚ ༘ * kuroo tetsurou

japan, 1991. kuroo tetsurou just graduated college. due to his advanced insomnia, he’s trapped within his own house, unable to work. his parents finally come up with a solution. he moves to his grandma’s house in the countryside, but only for the summer. there he meets a certain problem called y/n.

kuroo tetsurou x f!reader

content warning: serious health problems, (kinda) unstable relationships with parents, slight enemies to lovers, this is an au where haikyuu takes place in the 90s, more warnings to come as i go on with the story.

ch. one - "don’t let the bedbugs bite." ↓

japan, 1991

kuroo tetsurou just graduated college.

if you were to ask anybody else, they would probably say that the time passed quickly. days flew over their heads. but not for him, no.

kuroo’s days always seemed to stretch on forever. a gray blur. they were mostly filled with studying, as he was at the top of his classes. one may say that’s a normal school experience.

there was only one, big issue.

he couldn’t sleep.

his first problems with insomnia started to take place during the fresh start at a new college. in kuroo’s mind studying was more important than sleep, as he was academically driven. maybe his issue was that he dreamt of reaching the stars, or simply because success was drilled into his head at a young age.

still, nothing changed the fact that his health deteriorated. everyone always pointed out his skin was pale, and the shadows under his eyes hung low.

he felt fine, telling himself that this lifestyle is only temporary, that he’ll change once he gets back home. it turned out impossible. whenever he tried to get a rest, all he could do was throw around. changing positions, trying to tire himself. none of that had any effect on kuroo.

he’d randomly pass out during the day. concentrating and doing daily tasks took a toll on him, rendering the man useless. no point in getting a job if he can’t even tell apart a spoon from the fork.

kuroo often wondered during those sleepless nights - how did he even manage to do well in college? right now his whole life was crumbling and he wanted to scream from frustration. actually, he often did, stuffing his head into the pillows of his childhood home.

it felt torturous.

eventually he began going to the doctors. filled with new hope, the man tried taking their advice. medication, health procedures, exercises. at first it seemed to be working, but then everything in his system crashed again. at some point no one had a clue on what was going on inside his body.

finally, it began to feel terrifying. not only the sleeplessness, but also the alienation. detachment from your own body. the lack of control. not being able to force your own self to do something as simple as sleeping. of course there was the inability to do most things right too, and forgetting major parts of the day.

whenever he passed out, time seemed to jump around the place, like a mischievous cat. it’s noon, now it’s evening. he was just awake - wait, he closed his eyes for a second, so why’s it dark? is it the next day or is it still today? perhaps it’s yesterday?

he often pondered - will it stay like that forever?

can anybody even live like this?

when kuroo’s head banged onto the table with a loud 'thud!', his mother rapidly stood up, hitting the wooden surface with her palm. the rattle was strong enough to knock over the weird concoction that kuroo cooked up a while ago. a lemon tea (if you could even call it that) with at least twelve spoons of sugar. yes, the woman was counting.

"kuroo!" she yelled, "enough of that nonsense!"

her remarkably loud voice was enough to stir the man out of his unexpected nap. his mother was seething. kuroo rubbed his hurt forehead with a frown, before looking up at her. then his eyes trailed over the spilled tea. a short noise of surprise ripped from his throat.

"oh, my drink…" he sighed, getting up to grab a towel. "i’ll clean this up, mom, no worries."

kuroo quickly explained, his tone slightly slurred as he slapped the cloth onto the table, attempting to soak up the gooey "tea" that just spilled all over, now dripping down on the floor. he tediously wiped. a long beat of silence filled the kitchen before it was over.

"see? done." he forced a smile, which probably didn’t seem authentic.

his honeyed eyes snapped towards his mother, seeking approval. her face distorted, only for a second. it happened often, seeing stranger things. sometimes they just… looked different, and kuroo already got used to it. no matter if that plant reminded him of a dog, sitting by the stairs. or if his mom’s face was replaced by the weather girl’s. at the end of the day, it was only his mind playing ugly tricks.

"kuroo. we need to talk," she demanded, "i’m worried."

"about what?" her son inquired, leaning over the counter in order to support his suddenly heavy body. "i’m fine mom, just a bit tired."

oh wow, what a blatant lie.

the woman circled over the table, now standing in front of him. her posture was as stiff as a violin string, and that usually meant no good. she crossed her arms, looking at kuroo with scrutiny. her eyes studied him for a prolonged second.

"you’re lethargic."

"what? no-"

"don’t you dare lie to me," she barked, her lips starting to tremble, "sometimes i look at you and wonder - how is he even alive?"

kuroo didn’t know how to respond to that. 'me too'? if others worried, then imagine just how troubled he was. they didn’t have to be in his place. none of his friends nor family had to struggle with insomnia. of course he was jealous of them, and obviously pained too.

seeing his unresponsive reaction, his mother continued, "and this is the main reason why you’re still unemployed. you— we can’t go on like this forever!”

here it goes again. the ''work talk''.

shame instantly washed over him. he wished he could sit down, and he felt his eyelids drooping. the ticking of the clock resonated loudly in the back of his mind. wait, where was the clock again? was it ever in the kitchen? no, never mind. that’s not important. right now he needed to muster up a response.

"uhh… i’m sorry. i’m not sure what to do myself." perhaps he sounded too uninterested. "i’ll… try to figure something out."

at that, the woman sighed and strolled slowly over to the chair, plopping down heavily. frown painted itself across her face. she supported her head with a fist, unsatisfied with her son’s answer. tension in the air arose as she observed his slumped silhouette.

kuroo fiddled with his fingers, biting inside his cheek. he parted his lips, thinking - "should i break the silence? but what do i even say?". before any sound left his mouth, the man’s mother got up from her seat. she swiftly rendered the distance between her and the phone hanging from the wall.

"i’ll call your father." she stated, fingertips grazing over the receiver. "we’ll talk everything over in person. i can’t handle having a literal wreck of a human under my roof."

sensing it was the end of their frigid discussion, kuroo simply nodded and headed upstairs. he reached his room, feeling like he should probably be angry. he couldn’t. time after time, he felt his emotions becoming duller. at first he was irritated by his mother showing zero understanding towards his situation, however now it seemed pointless. or maybe his mind was just too fried.

he fell down onto his bed, praying for at least an hour of sleep. last night he was blessed with astonishing thirty minutes. good enough, he thought. as he closed his eyes, the sun rays tickled his whole face. too bright.

kuroo got up to close the dark curtains, swishing them over his window.

"now that’s better…" he muttered, lying back down. he repeated someone’s words in his mind - stay still, relax, quiet down your mind.

nothing.

he lied, sprawled out on his bed in the most comfortable position he could find. it seemed like forever, and maybe it was. no matter how much he tried soothing himself, it never worked. why was he even trying?

another forever passed, and kuroo felt the agitation arising in his chest. he could not sleep. feeling close to freaking out, he reached towards the sleep medication placed on his bedside table. he rattled the bottle, and by the sound of it, there were maybe three pills at best. it would take at least two hours for the melatonin to kick in, and the effects were usually meek anyway.

his tired eyes trailed mindlessly over his walls, finally stopping at the diploma he hung over the desk. a badge of honor. one of the best students.

was it all worth it?

before kuroo had the chance to slip down the spiral of dark thoughts, he heard footsteps, followed by knocking. the man got up, cracking his neck with a small yawn. he opened the door, and the sight of his father failed to surprise him.

"how are you doing, son?" he asked, "me and your mother wanna have a word with you. can you come down?" his words were steady, but something was obviously up.

his father was rarely home, often working until late hours or running errands. whenever his wife called him home, it usually was for an important reason.

"yeah, sure." kuroo responded softly, trailing after his parent. he didn’t want to, but protesting didn’t have a point. it’s not like he had any choice to begin with.

he couldn’t help the ominous feeling creeping down his spine when he spotted his mother sitting on the couch with a pinched expression. uh-oh. something was definitely up.

he dragged his feet towards her, swallowing thickly.

"sit down with us," the woman spoke, patting the seat beside her, "i made you some tea. it’s a lemon balm - peppermint blend."

kuroo obediently seated himself next to his mom, his father taking a seat across them. the man eyed the tea made specifically for him. his favorite. he felt as if he was on some kind of politician meeting, his leg starting to bounce involuntarily. kuroo grabbed the cup, noticing that his hands were shaking from the exhaustion. nothing new.

trying not to spill anything, he drank a little of the warm liquid. somehow it had the opposite effect of relaxing.

"so… you’re kicking me out?" he finally broke the gravely silence, before realizing how straightforward he sounded. his tone was so apathetic it could seem as if he did not care.

and maybe he didn’t.

his parents looked at each other, shock blooming on their faces in vibrant colours. it instantly melted their harsh expressions into something more agreeable.

"no, of course not. we would never," his father began, leaning closer to him, "me and your mother simply came up with a certain idea.”

"one that perhaps could help you," she added quickly, trying to sound reassuring, "do you remember your grandmother?"

his grandmother?

oh. oh.

kuroo already guessed in which direction the conversation was going, even though it took his anguished mind a second. nonetheless, he nodded slowly, trying to listen to them with patience.

"as you know, she lives in the countryside," the woman continued, "we’d want you to live with her for the summer. the air and lifestyle will surely help you with your sleeping problems."

"when you come back, all rested and happy, then you could find a job. or maybe even try to start your own business, am i right honey?" the older man sent his wife a smile before focusing his eyes on kuroo.

both his parents ogled him with anticipation, making it impossible to refuse even if he wanted to. well, if nothing worked, then at least he could try their idea. the more he mulled over the vision of living far away from the city, the more appealing it appeared.

"i mean… why not?" kuroo’s lips curled up, probably being his first genuine smile in a while, "i could do that."

his mom and dad cheered together, patting their son’s back. the spirits in the room were lifted instantly. how simple.

in a more peaceful atmosphere they explained every detail to him, saying that he should start packing as soon as possible. kuroo felt as if they actually wanted to get rid of him, considering how suddenly happy they got. it didn’t matter.

from what he deduced, he should leave in about two days. with that, he began preparing. he met up with his friend, kenma, saying that he will be out of town for the whole summer. the younger man wasn’t opposed to the idea. he even went as far as encouraging it. well - if kenma thinks it’s something good, then kuroo was left with no doubts.

first of july, 1991

a rundown station welcomed kuroo, who was trying to fight his sluggishness. for whatever reason, he didn’t feel as energized as he thought he will. it was no surprise, though. during the last two days, he overall got about three hours of sleep. plus, he will have to tug his suitcase until he finds taxi. what a pain.

letting out a big sigh, he began walking. his luggage seemed more heavier than he remembered. perhaps it was the work of the cracked cement, which certainly made the whole route harder.

one hour passed and he lost his way. twice. but hey, at least he got to his grandmother’s house safely, right?

wasting all of his remaining energy, he dragged the suitcase towards the door and knocked. before he knew it, an older woman appeared in front of him, taken aback. kuroo’s jaw tightened, unsure of what to do. did she not recognize him? well, it could be the case. the last time he visited was probably ten years ago.

"kuroo…? is that you, my son?" she inquired, adjusting her glasses. yup, she did not recognize him.

"yes, grandma. that’s me. i—"

he didn’t even have the time to process what was happening before he realized that he was trapped in a gentle embrace. slightly confused, he hugged his grandmother back, smiling to himself. he didn’t expect such a warm welcome.

the woman pulled away, examining kuroo. she had to crank up her neck in order to look into his eyes, as he was towering over her. well, she was old and fragile. no wonder the height difference was so overwhelming.

"you’ve grown so much. i didn’t even recognize you at first!", she chuckled, stepping aside to let the man in. he thanked her with a nod before walking inside.

"i’m very grateful that you agreed to this. i mean- me staying with you.” kuroo felt himself stumbling over his own words. even though he tried to focus, the world before his eyes seemed to blur and spin.

"ah, no worries, no worries,” she replied, quietly shutting the door, "when i heard from your mother that you’re sick… i just couldn’t believe it. you were always such an energetic and healthy child." her tone was sorry, making it sound as if she was close to tearing up.

kuroo’s lips formed a thin line, suddenly feeling guilty. he shook his head, trying to appear unbothered.

"i’m not sick, grandma. i just have problems with falling asleep. i’m sure i’ll get better here." he smiled at her, before looking around the house.

it was… rustic, to say the least. but not in a bad way. he liked the atmosphere. everything seemed so cozy and somewhat soothing. he instantly got reminded of his youthful, carefree days. how he used to run around the house and play soccer in the fields with other children. he even invited kenma to spend a few weeks at his grandma’s- but the younger got ill after two days and had to go back.

"well, if you say so… anyway, i’ve prepared dinner and—"

she didn’t get the chance to finish her sentence before someone opened the door.

a young woman appeared in the doorframe, carrying a basket filled with various stuff. from what kuroo could tell, it was only some eggs and vegetables.

he opened his mouth in order to greet the new face, but she overtook him.

"i brought everything needed," she smiled cheerfully at his grandmother before handing her the basket, "oh! also, my aunt wanted to give you her new jam." she kneeled, zipping her postman bag open and taking out two jars filled with some red stuff. it probably was strawberry flavored.

"thank you so much, dear," the older one chimed, taking the jars from her hands, "i can always count on you."

kuroo looked between the two perplexed, before finally someone decided to break him free from the awkwardness.

"oh, i’m sorry kuroo. this is y/n. she’s our neighbor. she moved in two years ago with her family, and has been helping me since. she’s a true sweetheart." his grandmother briefly explained, sending an apologetic smile towards her grandson.

the girl straightened up, her eyebrow quirking upwards. she placed her hand on hip, examining the black-haired man with scrutiny.

"and you?", y/n asked curtly, obviously awaiting for his introduction.

well, if you were to ask kuroo, she was every other adjective but a 'sweetheart'. he felt himself freeze under her electric gaze. he wasn’t shy, so why was he acting so dumb? he could as well drop dead from the embarrassment that his slow reaction caused him.

at the first glance, there was nothing remarkable about y/n. she was shorter than him, dressed in a humble summer dress. it was obviously stained from the soil. however, she measured him with perfect confidence and calmness.

the more he looked at her, the more intriguing she appeared in his eyes.

gosh, what on earth is he even thinking about?

"i’m kuroo tetsurou. i moved in for the summer." was all he could muster up. blame it on his tired mind.

the girl nodded. then she turned to his grandmother and said her goodbyes before leaving the house.

damn. she didn’t even cast a single glance towards him as she was walking out.

"well, she’s… certainly something." he muttered. hearing that, his grandma laughed before patting his back in a reassuring manner.

"she’ll grow on you, don’t worry. y/n is your age, so i’m sure you both will get along just fine," she let out a small chuckle, "for now let’s eat. i’ll show you your room later." the older woman stated, shuffling kuroo’s baggage to the side.

the two of them walked into the kitchen. kuroo sat by the table, earlier offering to help with serving the food, but his grandmother sternly denied. at least he could rest his legs now.

before long, in front of his eyes appeared the dinner. it consisted of his favorites during childhood. it surprised kuroo, making him smile at the rather big portions of everything.

they prayed and began eating. his tongue was burning, but for some reason he couldn’t stop himself from reaching for more. the food was… oddly satisfying. when he was in tokyo, his diet consisted mainly of instant noodles and other trash that he dig up from the bottoms of the drawer. he was over the moon to say the least.

fortunately for him, grandmother didn’t really speak much about his insomnia. they conversed about volleyball, college, his travel here and such. it was a pleasant change.

whenever he was at home, his parents only wanted to talk about one topic. sleeplessness (or his unemployment). it bored him and made even more exhausted, as they didn’t even try to feel bad for him. now it was different. kuroo knew the topic will eventually come up, but for now he could take a breath.

later on, his grandma showed him his room. it was mostly empty, filled only with necessities. it also had a nice balcony he could relax on.

kuroo thanked the older woman before unpacking his suitcase. he troubled himself with putting everything inside the wooden wardrobe, and that made the time pass quickly enough. then he took his sleep medication, washing the pill down with tap water.

'it’s so quiet in here', he thought, before stepping out on a balcony. the silence was deep and engulfing. the only sound that interrupted it was the soft chirping of cicadas and night birds. the man looked around, taking in the sights. mountains, trees. everything was now submerged in the dark.

it took kuroo a while, but soon he realized that his balcony was actually facing another one. they were so close, he could probably jump across to the other one without a sweat. he didn’t know who lived there, but it made no difference. the man plopped down on the plastic chair, letting out a huff of air.

his poor brain was at the brink of what it could endure. his muscles ached. he closed his eyes, thinking that maybe, just maybe he could get some sleep. even for fifteen minutes. even for—

"just what are you doing here?!"

a high-pitched yell came from his right, stirring the man from his desired slumber. kuroo growled, already recognizing the voice. it was her. his eyebrow twitched, as agitation arose within his chest. hm, it was long since he felt so annoyed.

he pulled himself up, facing the girl on the opposite balcony. y/n was standing by the barrier, gripping it with her hands. her face was also contorted, but probably not as much as his.

"i’m living here! have you forgotten already?!" he yelled back. just how much nerve did this woman have?

"oh, how could i?", she sneered, "i just don’t understand why are you interrupting my relaxation time!"

"actually, you just interrupted my relaxation time. i was trying to get some shut-eye, but you come here screaming at me as if i am on your balcony!"

kuroo felt like a ten year old, bickering with some girl over a stuffed toy. her behavior was ridiculous, yes. however, he was acting absurd too. at the end of the day, they were on the same level of idiocy.

"hmph! whatever. you’ll get scared off by the mosquitoes anyway," y/n barked, "you city folk always end up crying and screaming whenever a bug comes near you! oh, no, a moth! ahh, ahh! a wasp just stung me! am i gonna die?!" she exclaimed in an overly dramatic way, flailing her arms around in a rather exaggerated imitation of people from the cities.

kuroo almost let out a laugh. almost. he had to admit- even though y/n was beyond annoying, she also had an amusing side to her. nonetheless, he wouldn’t let her have that one.

"and do i look scared of bugs right now? they’re harmless, you know. or maybe you’re speaking from your own experience?" he quickly snapped back, forcing his face not to form a smile.

"what? i used to catch bugs all the time when i was a kid!" she retaliated, furrowing her eyebrows.

kuroo leaned on the barrier, studying y/n’s face. the girl looked worn as well, yet she didn’t seem like giving up. her cheeks were hot, and she was still bustling with energy. that only reminded him of how much he wished to rest.

"you know what?", kuroo began in a much more laid back tone, "i’ll let you have that balcony for tonight, but only because i’m too tired to put up with you. goodnight."

he turned on his heel and went inside. a short "wait, i’m not done with you!" could be heard before he shut the door close.

the man clicked his tongue with irritation, rolling his eyes. y/n seemed to dislike him, even though she practically didn’t know him.

if he could describe her, he’d say she was full of herself and selfish. she probably looked down on everybody and was actually from a rich family, or something of the sort.

but… since y/n was helping his grandmother she couldn’t have been that bad. he remembered how eager she appeared, a big grin plastered on her face as the girl handed the vegetables to the older woman.

the bounce in her walk and slightly disheveled hair. stained sundress. the bag she carried around with various keychains, jingling whenever she moved.

yeah, she surely wasn’t that bad.

kuroo shook his head, getting rid of the weird train of thoughts that were spinning inside his mind. he paid a quick visit to his grandma’s room, wishing her goodnight before going to shower.

after his whole body was free of any grime, he changed into some fresh clothes he could sleep in. then he lied down inside his bed, turning off any lights. the man inhaled with ease, already sensing a difference between city and countryside air. the sheets smelled nice, soothing him into a more serene state.

he glanced at the clock for the last time before closing his eyes. it was 10 pm.

that night, kuroo slept for full four hours.

🫧𓇼𓏲*ੈ✩‧₊˚🎐 🫧𓇼𓏲*ੈ✩‧₊˚🎐 🫧𓇼𓏲*ੈ✩‧₊˚

notes: aaand that is the end! i’m aware that the intro was very long, but i wanted to cover everything before i got to the main part of the story. this chapter was kuroo-focused, but i’ll try to shift the perspective if needed.

also english is not my first language (as you probably can tell) so i apologize for any grammar mistakes or misused words.

[anystalker707]

Intoxicated

Pairing: [trans, ftm] Roronoa Zoro x [gender-neutral, amab] Reader Kinktober prompt: Gagged / Submission Tags: pussy drunk reader / reader gets turned on after seeing him go wild

KINKTOBER LIST MASTERLIST

          “Goddammit,” you whispered, wiping the sweat away from your forehead with the back of your hand. There was blood when you pulled your hand back, just a small stain.

The unexpected clash in the middle of the sea demanded a little more strength from you than if you’d been prepared, but it still wasn’t anything too serious—just a jump scare, which you had to catch your breath from. You stood on the deck as you watched the ship slowly fade away in the distance, smoke rising from it because of Usopp’s cannonballs. One of the last enemy guys was drifting away on a broken piece of his own ship after being thrown out by Zoro. Great job, once again.

A breath escaped your lips as you looked around, checking if everyone was alright as well. Sanji, Usopp, Zoro, Luffy… Damn, Zoro. He still had that feral look, looking into the distance with his good eye, also struggling to catch his breath while his chest heaven up and down. He had some blood that trailed down his face and stained the part of his torso that was exposed by the open kimono, bathing his scars. On his arms, too, as he still held a sword in each hand. Just the sight made your throat feel dry as something stirred in your lower stomach.

Zoro’s eyes suddenly met yours, making all your blood drain to your feet as you immediately looked away and slowly exhaled, hearing your heartbeat in your head. What was that? The feeling was similar to what you felt watching him fight for the first time after reuniting, when you caught a glance of him on Fishman Island, but it had a slightly different tone this time.

Your eyes were on Zoro’s back as he walked away and sheathed his swords again, with that grumpy look on his face. It seemed the same as always, but something about him practically made you go crazy right now.

“Everyone okay?” Chopper’s voice cut through your thoughts. “Zoro! That’s a whole lot of blood!”

Zoro clicked his tongue, and something was dazing about how he adjusted his posture and sighed sharply. “Well, it’s not my blood.”

“There’s still a cut in your chest, whether you like it or not!” Chopper pointed at Zoro accusingly, making him sigh while they walked to the sick bay.

Right. You observed the two for a while, and then you moved to take a look at your wounds, but there wasn’t a lot more than just a small cut across your temples. It was manageable with a few dabs of alcohol in saline solution as you stood in front of the mirror in the bathroom before placing a small bandage over it. As you left, you ended up passing by the sick bay on your way to the deck. There was no specific reason for it, of course. You certainly didn’t take unnecessary turns.

You stopped by the slightly open door, taking a look inside to see Zoro sitting on the bed, cleaning the blood away from his swords’ sheaths. The top part of his kimono was down, and he had bandages taped to an area a little below his collarbone, now cleaned away from most of the blood. Some of it still stuck to his hair and near his chest, but that’d just be cleaned during a proper shower.

A knock made your presence known, and he looked up at you. It was such a gaze, making you bite the inside of your cheek and take a deep breath to just then start talking, standing in front of him.

“Are you alright?” You looked Zoro up and down, totally not checking out his muscles in the process.

A sigh escaped Zoro’s nose, and he pressed his lips together for a moment. “Not you too… Of course, I am okay. You guys are overreacting.”

“Just checking!” You furrowed your eyebrows. Did you annoy him? Things couldn’t be left that way. Putting a finger under his chin, you raised his head a little so that he would look at you—he was still moody, of course, twisting his mouth as he stiffened. His cheeks gained a red tone, as well. He was shy, and you’d already learned that before. “It’s not overreacting. We care about you.”

Your thumb traced a tiny cut down the side of his jaw as you sighed. And then, how were you supposed to control yourself? His lips were so close. Your thumb grazed Zoro’s lips, barely touching them. His eye was wide, trained on you, breath catching in his throat as he sat there. What were you even doing?

You were about to pull your hand away when Zoro’s lips parted a little under your thumb, his breath hot against it. Zoro didn’t do anything about it, but neither did you. Time seemed to drag itself for an eternity as you two looked at each other. The look you received reminded you of the look from earlier, which made something stir in your gutter, making you feel the same thing right now.

Zoro’s eye was still fixed on you when his tongue poked out, licking across the pad of your thumb, warm and wet. Fuck. You didn’t even think once before you leaned in and pressed your lips to Zoro’s, holding his jaw now—he hummed in surprise, leaning back a little, but he still kissed you back. His hand was on the back of your head as he parted his lips open in an inviting manner, pressing his tongue hot against yours to let them glide together. Despite it all, the kiss was slow, with a sensual tone that only he could control.

The way Zoro tugged on your collar made you lose your balance, almost falling on top of him if it weren’t for the way you placed a hand on the mattress first. You also needed to put a knee on the edge of the bed, trembling a little. His lips found yours again despite it, giving you long pecks on each of your lips until you started kissing him again. Zoro’s legs were spread open, and he leaned back on his elbow.

All of that had you intoxicated. Zoro was the only thing in your head and senses, but you still couldn’t get enough of him. Your cock throbbed painfully in your pants, pressed the wrong way against the zipper, but maybe you liked it. Maybe you were too afraid to ruin the situation by the smallest act. Your hand went from his jaw to his neck as you leaned in more, about to climb on the bed, when his hand pressed to your chest.

Did you fuck up? God, you really couldn’t have anyth—

“The door,” Zoro whispered as he tilted his head off to the door’s direction.

Oh, yeah, it was still open. You nodded in response, letting your tongue run between your lips for what remained of his taste there as you gently closed the door, guaranteeing it was locked.

Zoro’s swords were on the chair when you turned back, and he was untying his kimono and removing his boots, so you also removed your shoes while making your way over to him. As you approached, he moved back further on the bed, spreading his legs again to let you between them after tossing his kimono aside.

This kiss was a much better one, in an angle that didn’t hurt your neck. It drew a soft groan from Zoro as you tugged on his lip with your teeth until he pulled you closer by a hand on the back of your neck and pushed his tongue into your mouth again. The kiss was longer, and Zoro’s hand kept you there even when your lungs started screaming for air. His tongue pressed down to yours, momentarily tangling with it before he finally pulled away. Was he even aware of the effect he had on you?

“Come on,” Zoro breathed, tugging a little on your shirt, so you pulled away to take it off as well. His hands pressed to your torso immediately, running up and down your skin, feeling each detail. Sometimes, he would squeeze you, quickly gaining a liking towards your chest. He bit his lip, watching his own hands press down to the skin.

Blinking a couple of times, you finally came back to reality. You were truly intoxicated by him. How could you not, though? You bent down to mouth Zoro’s neck and started nibbling on it, feeling the vibration on his throat whenever he moaned, something that became more occasional once you started sucking on a specific spot. Just the thought of marking him made your cock twitch more, and thankfully, the arousal wasn’t only felt by you.

Zoro’s legs wrapped around your hips, and his arms did the same around your shoulders so that he could have you closer—close enough to grind his hips against yours, compelling both of you to moan. Fuck. You gasped against his neck, continuing to kiss and nip on it whilst grinding against him in return. Even through the cloth, the friction sent sparkles up your spine. Your cock managed to line up perfectly with his pussy through the fabric; it was even better.

“Mmph, fuck…” You managed to get away from his grasp so that you could sit back on the bed with Zoro’s bottom on your lap; otherwise, you’d be cumming in your pants without even having the opportunity to do anything. If not that, you’d cum too soon, so a break would be good.

On the other hand, Zoro didn’t seem very pleased. Things changed quickly. Shivers made Zoro’s skin rise as you ran your hands up and down his torso, feeling his chest, and abs, and teasing the waistband of his pants a little—he groaned, arching his back to seek your touches. His knuckles went white around the bedsheets.

Zoro’s skin wasn’t that smooth, but it was quite nice. Your fingertips traced the scar that crossed his torso, and then the scars under his pecs, before your hands trailed down. He was so beautiful. Your heart ached slightly as you looked at him a last time and leaned in to kiss from his sternum to his abs, at the same time your hands followed along his v-lines. He seemed a little sensitive around his hips, gasping and squirming. How could you not tease him there upon learning this? Your thumbs pressed to the skin, rubbing circles into it as Zoro pushed his hips up.

“You’re taking so long that they’ll notice we’re gone and the sick bay is locked,” Zoro said breathlessly, glaring.

“Oh?” You chuckled, unbuttoning his pants. “It’d be easier for them to hear you and find out. You’re so fucking loud.”

Zoro’s face burned hot as you said that. He had a feeling that maybe commenting about it would make you take longer, so he just shut his mouth and turned his face to the side as he waited for you to undress and then allowed you to remove his pants and boxers.

As you parted Zoro’s legs open to place his thighs over yours again, you couldn’t help a groan. Your cock twitched just at the sight, leaking more. Zoro was soaking wet, pussy shiny and fluttering with need as you gazed down at him. Despite the pubic hair, you could have a good look at it. His clit was swollen, practically waiting for you to touch it. Your breath hitched in your throat as you pressed your thumb to his slit, collecting some of his juices so that you could spread it all over his clit while rubbing it.

The moan that escaped Zoro’s lips was loud. He arched his back, squirming just at the simple touch. You weren’t even putting a lot of pressure on it, but you could only wonder the last time he’d been touched like that by someone else. Your finger pressed to his entrance when his hand wrapped around your wrist tightly.

“N—No!” He breathed, slowly pulling your hand away. “‘S a lot.” He bit his lip, propping up in an elbow and using his free hand to pull you closer by your shoulder. “Please,” he mumbled, messily kissing you again, and that intoxicated sensation came back.

Zoro slowly lay back on the bed properly and held around your shoulders again as your hand hooked under one of his knees to bring his leg up, the other one holding the back of your cock to guide it in. The small making-out session was inconsistent, full of pauses whenever your focus slipped away, so it started growing more sporadic once your cock pressed to Zoro’s pussy. You moaned at the warm, wet sensation, but it didn’t even compare to how it was once you started to push in.

Zoro was tight around you, practically pulling you in, walls clenching and accommodating around your cock. You’d just let yourself drown in the feeling if it weren’t for the loud whine coming from Zoro—it sent your hand flying to his mouth to at least muffle it until you bottomed out.

“Shut the fuck up!” You glared at him.

“Well, I can’t!” He whisper-yelled back, also in the same tone—you sighed sharply, looking down at the clothes on the ground. His bandana. It was a little difficult to reach for it, though you managed to without getting off your position.

“Open wide!” You grinned, unfolding his bandana and stretching it.

Zoro’s eyes widened. “No!”

“Yes!” You cut in, pulling the bandana away before he could reach for it. “You’re so fucking loud! Either this or getting caught!” You held his gaze as Zoro glared at you, sighing as he looked away—of course, he wouldn’t admit it so openly. “Tap my shoulder three times in a row or just remove the bandana if you need me to stop,” you said as you stuffed the bandana into his mouth, gagging him. It made your cock twitch inside him. Fuck.

“Okay,” you whispered, holding yourself up by an elbow and holding one of his thighs up again—he automatically wrapped his free leg around your torso, returning his arms to around your shoulders.

Zoro’s grip tightened as you started moving experimentally, hissing a little at how fucking good it felt. The movements were stuttering and unsteady until you finally could settle down to a nice pace. Of course, he kept moaning, but the gag prevented Zoro from being as loud as earlier, and it was also so fucking hot to see him like that. Aside from the moans, there was the occasional squelching sound. You still couldn’t believe you’d made him so wet.

You were absolutely drunk by the feeling, resting your head against his shoulder as you hoped not to get overwhelmed so quickly.

Zoro clenched down around you so tightly, gummy walls clamped around your cock, so warm and wet, letting you slide in and out so easily. Not to mention how you had such a strong, tough swordsman all whiny just because you were fucking his pussy so good. The same Zoro who had you and everyone else intimidated, sometimes just by his presence, and even more so whenever he started grinning during a fight or pulled out the third sword. It had your brain shortcutting, thoughts fuzzy as you started thrusting into him more intensely.

As he tightened around you, Zoro arched his back and let out a longer moan at the same time his fingers sank into your back. He had short nails, but they still managed to sink into the skin, leaving behind a burning feeling that actually added up to the arousal instead of being uncomfortable as it usually would.

Whatever you hit inside Zoro, it made him clench down for longer, a little whinier as he held you tightly. His thighs even quivered. Great. It took you a couple of thrusts to find that same angle again, just so you could try to keep it as often as possible. Zoro was practically milking you. Your fingers sank into his thigh, holding him tighter to make a firmer frame to fuck into, allowing your thrusts to go faster until you just came inside him.

Your orgasm hit you stronger than you’d expected, approaching a lot faster—the sparkles ran up your thighs and made your balls tighten as you came inside him, feeling your mind go blank, vision blacking out a little. You struggled to keep your own volume in check. Whimpers permeated your breathing whenever it didn’t hitch as you rode out your high. Hell, your thoughts were all over the place, you were all over the place. Nonetheless, you tried to recollect yourself enough.

Zoro’s eye was half-lidded, and some drool ran down the corners of his mouth. Fucking hot. It was nice knowing you weren’t the only one without a functioning brain at the moment. He looked at you when you removed the gag, though, gasping as your lips replaced it. His moans went into your mouth instead as your hand let go of his thigh so that you could slip it between both of you.

The kiss deepened as Zoro pulled you closer, struggling to keep up with it given the amount of moans that spilled from his lips once your thumb started rubbing circles on his clit. He arched his back, trying to push into your touch, but you already gave him all the attention you could, messily rubbing it until he was finally coming. A louder, longer moan came from him this time, and you were there to muffle it, though also moaning at how tight Zoro became, only loosening once his high started passing, so he was throbbing around you instead.

Zoro exhaled shakily as he started coming back to reality. You slowly stopped touching him, though you didn’t pull away yet—you just had to take a look at how his pussy looked right now. It was wet, with a mix of both your cum and his trailing out, which also covered your cock. Hot. You bit your lip, slowly pulling out, watching the last strings of cum breaking as you two lost contact.

“This again,” Zoro breathed, catching your attention, “crow’s nest, tonight.”

.𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟.

[nyxshadowhawk]

I Read The Silmarillion So You Don't Have To, Part Nine

Previous part.

Chapter 20: Of the Fifth Battle: Nirnaeth Arnoediad In which Maedhros tries and fails to get the Elves to play nice, and then a battle goes very badly.

This chapter begins with a quick account of what happened to Beren and Lúthien. They are restored to life, and briefly check in on Lúthien’s parents in Menegroth. It had been eternal winter in the forest of Doriath since Lúthien died, but Lúthien brings spring with her. When Melian sees her daughter, it’s like seeing a ghost. Melian feels the most horrible grief that anyone has ever felt in the history of the world, because Lúthien is mortal now. The Elves call Beren and Lúthien “The Dead that Live,” because there’s something deeply unnatural about coming back from the Halls of Mandos. All the Elves are unsettled by them, so Beren and Lúthien go off on their own, into the east of Beleriand. They have a son, Dior Aranel, but beyond that, the Elves never hear of them again. Presumably they live out their natural lives, but no one knows when they died or where they’re buried

That’s the end of that story! Now, let’s return to the Main Plot. Maedhros, the oldest of Fëanor’s sons (the one who lost a hand) has been thinking up new ways to fight Morgoth. Fingolfin proved that Morgoth is not invincible — he can be hurt, so maybe he can be killed, or at least incapacitated enough to stop causing trouble. However, the Noldor don’t stand a chance unless they can band together and fight Morgoth as a unified front. Maedhros tries to call all the Elves together in a council.

Maedhros by @kazz-art

(Fun fact: According to a YouTube video called “Types of Lord of the Rings Fans” by Generic Entertainment, “Maedhros” is composed of Sindarin words meaning “shapely” and “red-haired,” so it basically means “hot ginger.”)

Of course, the problem is that the Elves have never been unified, and they’re not about to start now. Fëanor’s sons (save Maedhros himself) hate basically everybody, and their shenanigans have burned too many bridges:

Orodreth is now king of Nargothrond after Finrod died, and he says that he’s never going to trust a son of Fëanor ever again. After Celegorm and Curufin’s attempted coup, who can blame him? A small group from Nargothrond, led by an Elf named Gwindor, come to aid Maedhros — but they go behind the king’s back.

Doriath is even more of a lost cause. King Thingol now has a Silmaril, and you know what that means — all of Fëanor’s sons (including Maedhros) are his enemies by default. Melian advises Thingol to surrender the Silmaril, just… y’know… to take that problem off their hands. But Thingol is offended by the Fëanorians’ arrogance, and he’s still very mad at Celegorm and Curufin for trying to steal his daughter. The Silmarils are also kind of like the One Ring, in that anyone who looks at them becomes obsessive and wants to keep them. So, instead of actually listening to his wife for once, Thingol sends the Fëanorians a note that says the Elvish equivalent of “come at me, bro.”

Maedhros carefully ignores Thingol’s threat, because he’s really trying to get everyone to work together. But those two assholes Celegorm and Curufin send Thingol a declaration of war. Thingol fortifies his kingdom and then just stays there, because his solution to everything is to isolate himself behind a magic wall and hope the danger doesn’t touch him. (That worked when Morgoth was a general threat to everybody, but not so much when other Elves want to kill Thingol specifically.) Thingol’s right-hand men, Mablung and Beleg, want no part in whatever shit is inevitably going to go down between Thingol and Fëanor’s sons. So, they’re given permission to leave Doriath (provided they don’t go to serve any of Fëanor’s sons). They go to Hithlum to serve Fingon, and then after that, no one enters or leaves Doriath.

(I know, I know, I already used it!)

But Maedhros has a few unexpected sources of help. He manages to enlist the Dwarves, who have lots of weapons and the means to make them, and he also has the Men on his side. All of them want Morgoth gone as much as anybody (and they haven’t been given any reason to hate Fëanor’s sons yet). Maedhros also has Fingon’s support, because Fingon still loves Maedhros as much as he did back when he rescued Maedhros from the cliff face.

The Night before Nirnaeth Arnoediad, by @pansen1802

The only faction that remains unaccounted for is Gondolin, because it’s the only kingdom that’s even more isolated than Doriath. News of Maedhros’ attempt at unity reaches Gondolin, but King Turgon still refuses to do anything.

Maedhros’ force is smaller than he’d hoped, but better than nothing. It’s enough to get rid of most of the Orcs in northern Beleriand, and it might be enough to try assaulting Angband yet again. Maybe this time it’ll work! Unfortunately, Morgoth knew they were coming. Before the battle even starts, Maedhros’ and co.’s chances are looking bleak. But at the last minute, the cavalry comes! Turgon finally decided to actually do something, and sent a host of ten thousand Elves from Gondolin to help. Fingon is overjoyed to have seen the first sign of his brother’s existence for centuries. He sends up a battle cry in Quenya. Morale is good! There’s a nice moment in which Fingon and Turgon briefly reunite on the battlefield.

The Battle of Unnumbered Tears, by Mysilvergreen

Unfortunately, it’s all downhill from there. This battle is called Nirnaeth Arnoediad, “the Battle of Unnumbered Tears,” so that should tell you everything you need to know. Fingon’s host retreats, the Men from the Forest of Brethil are nearly wiped out, and then there’s betrayal. This whole time, Morgoth had been trying to wage a psychological battle amongst the Elves and Men, sewing distrust amongst them and making it even harder for Maedhros to get them to come together. “Divide and conquer” has worked well in the past, and it works again here. A man named Ulfang and his sons suddenly turn against Maedhros. Maedhros’ host is cornered, and they’re forced to retreat.

The most steadfast fighting force in the battle turns out to be the Dwarves. If it weren’t for them, the Elves and Men would have been annihilated by Glaurung and the other dragons. A Dwarven lord named Azaghâl manages to stab Glaurung in the underbelly, which wounds him, but doesn’t kill him.

Finally, Gothmog, the Lord of Balrogs, comes out of Angband. He corners Fingon with another Balrog. Fingon fights valiantly, but no one can hold out against the Lord of Balrogs for long. Gothmog cuts Fingon in half with a greataxe. The Elves say that a white flame burst from Fingon’s helmet as it was cloven.

The Final Battle in Unnumbered Tears by breath-art

The battle’s basically over after that. Turgon holds out with the brothers Húrin and Huor to ensure that Morgoth doesn’t win the Pass of Sirion and take control of the river. Húrin tells Turgon to flee, because he’s the last hope for the Elves’ survival. But Turgon recognizes that by sending help, he revealed to Morgoth that Gondolin exists. It won’t take him long to find Gondolin and destroy it. Húrin tells Turgon that Gondolin will still be a beacon of hope for however long it continues to last, and says goodbye, knowing that they won’t see each other again.

Maeglin, Turgon’s nephew (the edgy Elf) is fighting nearby. He hears Húrin say that Gondolin is a beacon of hope, tucks it away in his mind, and says nothing. Ominous.

Turgon retreats, but the Men remain to hold the pass. Tolkien writes that, of all the deeds of Men that were performed for the sake of Elves, this is the most renowned. Some Men betray the Elves, but most of the Men continue to fight for them. Huor and all of the other Men die; Húrin is the last man standing. Húrin yells “Day shall come again!” every time he kills a monster, but the Orcs just keep coming, and they continue to fight him even after he cuts off their arms.

Exactly like this.

Eventually, Húrin is captured alive.

Morgoth is very pleased with himself for having engineered a betrayal. The Elves no longer completely trust the Men, except for the Three Houses that became their friends. Now that Fingon is dead, his realm of Hithlum is completely destroyed. The remaining Noldor of Hithlum (and there aren’t many) scatter, and join the Wood Elves of the East. Living in forests and using guerilla tactics are way less noble than having cities and fighting in armies. The Haladin, the Men of the Forest of Brethil, are also greatly reduced. They never see any member of their host again, or learn what happened to them. Morgoth shuts the treacherous Men in what’s left of Hithlum, forbidding them to leave it, which pisses them off because they wanted to rule Beleriand. Welp, that’s what you get for being a traitor.

One of the only safe places left in Beleriand is the Havens at the mouth of the River Sirion, but Morgoth is eventually able to ransack the Havens using machines with engines (remember, Tolkien thinks industrialization is evil). A handful of Elves, led by Círdan and Gil-galad, manage to escape by sea. They keep a foothold at the mouths of Sirion, but for the most part, Morgoth controls the river.

The situation is so dire that Turgon reaches out to Círdan from Gondolin. He wants to again try to send messengers across the sea to Valinor. Círdan builds ships and sends them west, but again, none of them return… except one. That ship turned back, and sank in a storm within sight of Middle-earth’s coast. One Elf from that ship survives, and he’s ferried to shore by Ulmo, the Vala of Water himself

Although Morgoth won decisively, he’s still not happy -- he wants to capture Turgon, and has no idea where he is. Turgon is the last remaining son of Fingolfin, and therefore the rightful High King of the Noldor. Morgoth’s hatred of the House of Fingolfin is personal, because Fingolfin wounded him, and because they’re friends with Ulmo the Vala. Morgoth also got bad vibes from Turgon all the way back in Valinor. He intuited that Turgon was destined to help destroy him.

Morgoth knows that Húrin is friends with Turgon, and Húrin is his prisoner. He demands that Húrin tell him where Turgon is, but Húrin tells him where he can stick it. In response, Morgoth binds Húrin to a chair on top of Thangorodrim, and curses him and all of his offspring. Morgoth tells Húrin that despair and sorrow will come to everyone he loves. To stick the knife in and twist it, Morgoth gives Húrin a taste of his own power to see the future, and forces him to remain sitting in that chair until all of his family have met their doom. Húrin does not beg for mercy for himself or any of his kin. He won’t give Morgoth the satisfaction.

Morgoth punishes Húrin by Ted Nasmith

As a final insult, Morgoth has the Orcs build a giant mount of bodies in the middle of the battlefield. The Elves call it the Hill of the Slain and the Hill of Tears. But after a while, grass and flowers grow on the bodies of the dead.

The Hill of the Slain by Ted Nasmith

Chapter 21: Of Túrin Turambar, Part 1. In which our angsty tragic hero tries to outrun his curse, kills people he shouldn’t, sleeps with people he shouldn’t, and fights a dragon.

This is the second of the Great Tales, also called “The Children of Húrin.” I’ve heard that this is one of the most tragic stories in the entire Tolkien Legendarium (which is saying a lot), so brace yourselves! This is going to be another two-parter, because I ran out of space.

Instead of jumping right into the story, Tolkien gives us an account of what happened to Húrin and Huor’s wives, Morwen and Rían. Rían is dead. Huor and Rían’s son is Tuor, and Húrin and Morwen’s son is Túrin. Húrin and Morwen also had a daughter, Lalaith, but she died of disease when she was three. After the battle, the Easterlings (evil Men working for Morgoth, they’re already called that) ransack Hithlum. They enslave everybody except Morwen, because she’s just so beautiful. They assume that she’s a witch, “in league with the Elves.” Despite their fear of her, Morwen decides that her son is not safe, and sends Túrin to Thingol. Morwen is Beren’s distant cousin, so she hopes that Thingol will take Túrin in. After Túrin is sent away, Morwen gives birth to a third child, a daughter named Nienor (which means “mourning.” That’s not ominous at all). Thingol accepts Túrin into his household, because he doesn’t hate Men as much as he used to, and raises him as his own son.

Germanic Fun Fact #1: It was actually a common practice in the early Middle Ages that noble children would be fostered by other families, and it shows up in fiction. For example, Beowulf was fostered by King Hrethel of the Geats, making him a de facto prince.

Túrin lives in Thingol’s court for nine years, and messengers occasionally bring him news of his mother and sister. One day, the messengers stop coming. Túrin puts on his ancestral family helmet, “the Dragon-helm of Dor-lómin,” and goes to battle alongside the king’s captains and the other Elves.

Túrin Turambar by Alan Lee

Túrin stays in the field for three more years, then returns to Menegroth. He looks dirty and unkempt because he’s been living in the wilderness for three years. One of the Elves of Thingol’s court, named Saeros, mocks Túrin for his wild appearance: “If this is what the Men look like, then do their women run like deer, wearing nothing but their hair?” In response, Túrin throws a goblet at Saeros, injuring him. The next day, they confront each other in the forest. Túrin defeats Saeros, and sends him running naked back to Menegroth, wearing nothing but his hair. Irony! As he flees, Saeros falls into a gorge and dies. Now Túrin is responsible for the death of one of Thingol’s courtiers. Oops.

Mablung, one of the king’s captains, advises Túrin to go back to Menegroth and beg Thingol for his pardon. Túrin decides to leave Doriath as an exile, but Thingol pardons him anyway.

He loved Túrin like a son, and would welcome him back if he decided to return. The king’s other captain, Beleg Cúthalion, loved Túrin just as much, and decides to go after him.

In the meantime, Túrin becomes the leader of a group of outlaws. And not the Robin Hood kind. He starts calling himself Neithan, which means “the Wronged.” (Thingol pardoned him, so he hasn’t been “wronged” at all. This is entirely his own fault.) After a year, Beleg finally finds Túrin’s outlaw lair. Túrin didn’t happen to be there at that moment, so the other thugs seized and bound Beleg, assuming that he was a spy from Thingol. When Túrin gets back, the sight of Beleg bound in his lair makes him suddenly repent of all his evil deeds, yada yada, and he swears to never again harm anyone besides Morgoth’s minions. Let's see if that promise lasts more than five minutes.

Beleg tries to convince Túrin to return to Doriath. He’s been pardoned, so he has no reason to hide out in the wilderness. Túrin is too proud to come crawling back, though. He tries to get Beleg to stay with him, but Beleg is tired of his nonsense and tells Túrin to find him on the front lines if he really wants to be with him. They go their separate ways. Túrin heads out towards Amon Rûdh (“Bald Hill”), a large hill overlooking the Forest of Brethil

Beleg returns to Menegroth and tells Thingol everything that happened (except for the part where he was tied up by Túrin’s thugs). Thingol just sighs and says, “What more would Túrin have me do?” Túrin is a hotheaded teenager who ran away from home, leaving his adoptive parents exasperated. Beleg offers to follow Túrin and protect him from a distance. Thingol gives him leave to go, and as a reward for his service, offers him anything he wants. Beleg asks for a fine sword. The king offers him any sword in his armory, save his own. Beleg chooses a sword called Anglachel, made from a meteorite. (Space Sword!) That means that its blade is ominously jet-black. It’s one of two swords made from the same meteorite by Ëol, the Elf of the Dark Forest. (Remember him? He was Aradhel’s abusive husband, and followed her to Gondolin, where he was killed by being thrown from its walls.) Thingol got one of the meteorite swords as payment for letting Ëol live on his land. Ëol’s son Maeglin has the other one.

Anglachel by Elena Kukanova (Thingol is portrayed with blonde hair here.)

As Thingol presents Beleg with the sword, Queen Melian stops to say that the sword “has malice in it.” If you haven’t noticed by now, any work of craftsmanship in Tolkien’s world is imbued, to at least some extent, with the personality of its creator — the One Ring, the Silmarils, the swan ships, and the Two Trees themselves. This sword is no exception. It absorbed all the bad vibes from Ëol. Melian says that it will serve Beleg begrudgingly, and he’ll end up losing it.

In light of that, Melian decides to give Beleg another gift: lembas bread. In the First Age, Melian was the only person with the authority to give out lembas. The leaves it’s wrapped in are marked with her seal, a white flower of Telperion (the Silver Tree). Melian gives Beleg the lembas with the expectation that he will share it with Túrin, which is a big deal — it’s the first of the very few times that Elves have ever shared their waybread with Men. Beleg leaves with the gifts, and spends the winter keeping the Orc population in check. Once spring comes, and the Orcs are no longer an immediate threat, he goes off to find Túrin.

Germanic fun fact #2: Waybread (wegbræde) is actually the Old English name of a broadleaf plantain, a type of edible plant. Tolkien decided to make it into literal bread.

Meanwhile, Túrin and his gang come across three Dwarves. They capture one of them, and one of the Men, Andróg, shoots after the other two. The arrow goes into the dark, and the Men can’t see if it hit or not. The captured Dwarf’s name is Mîm, and he offers to show Túrin his secret cave in exchange for his life. Túrin pities him, and spares him. (Túrin kind of swings back and forth between doing evil things and then regretting it.) Mîm leads the Men up the slope of Amon Rûdh to his secret cave, which “will be” called the House of Ransom. There are red flowers all over the hill, and one of the Men remarks that it looks like there’s blood on the hilltop. That may as well be a massive ‘FORESHADOWING’ sign.

Mîm the Dwarf by Anke Eißmann

Inside the House of Ransom, Mîm shows the Men the body of his son Khîm (Dwarves really like rhyming names), who was shot and killed a few minutes ago. The arrow that Andróg shot into the dark killed Mîm’s son. Oops. What a way to guilt-trip the Men. Túrin feels horrible (you’d think after Saeros he’d learn not to be so reckless). He takes responsibility for Andróg’s arrow, and offers to pay Mîm a ransom of gold for his son. That validates the name of the House.

Germanic fun fact #3: A ransom paid as compensation for someone’s life is called weregild. This was a normal part of life in Germanic cultures. It was a way of preventing endless back-and-forth feuding between families. The gold guarded by the dragon Fafnir in Germanic mythology is weregild that the Norse gods themselves paid to a Dwarf for the murder of his son. (That story shows up in the Prose Edda and the Volsung Saga, parts of it are also in the Poetic Edda, and it’s referenced elsewhere.) Tolkien is definitely referencing that story here.

Mîm is impressed by Túrin’s speech, remarking that he sounds like an ancient dwarf lord, and forgives him to a point, saying that he doesn’t need to pay a ransom after all. He lets Túrin and co. stay in his house for as long as they need.

Now for a little bit of Dwarf history (we’ve had a lot of Elf history, so we need some Dwarf history): The Dwarves that live in the House of Ransom are called “Petty-Dwarves,” which means they’re less cool than other Dwarves. They were banished from the old Dwarf kingdoms in the Misty Mountains, and made their way west to Beleriand. They’ve slowly become shorter and less talented smiths, and they live in secrecy, which Tolkien thinks is ignoble. The Elves used to hunt them for sport, until the other groups of Dwarves showed up. So, the Petty-Dwarves hate Elves even more than they hate Orcs, and they especially hate the Noldor. The Petty-Dwarves originally discovered the caves of Nargothrond before Finrod took it over and forced them out. By now, the Petty-Dwarves have dwindled and basically lost all relevance. Mîm is one of the last and one of the oldest ones left.

In the harsh cold of winter, a hulking man arrives at Amon Rûdh. The Men all spring up to fight, but the man turns out to be Beleg Cúthalion. He only appeared to be a hulking brute because he was wearing a big backpack under his cloak. Beleg and Túrin have a heartwarming reunion, and Beleg gives Túrin his old ancestral treasure, the Dragon-helm of Dor-lómion. Beleg hopes that the helm will remind Túrin that he’s better than this, that he could be something more than an outlaw living in a hole. But it doesn’t sway Túrin at all.

The Dragon-helm of Dor-lómin by Elena Kukanova (This artist’s design of the helm is based on a real Anglo-Saxon helm found at Sutton Hoo.)

Against his better judgement, Beleg stays with Túrin, purely out of love for him. He becomes the team medic, and uses the lembas that Melian gave him to heal sick and injured members of Túrin’s company. (Lembas apparently has healing powers at this point in Elven history.) Mîm the Dwarf is not happy about having an Elf living in his House. Men are one thing, but as I said before, the Petty-Dwarves have every reason to hate Elves.

Meanwhile, Morgoth is still a problem. Túrin and Beleg go out hunting Orcs, and they’re so good at it that they become living legends. Their land becomes known as “The Land of the Bow and Helm,” referring to Beleg’s archery skills and Túrin’s fancy Dragon-helm. Túrin starts calling himself Gorthol (“Dread Helm”), which is a little pretentious. Even the isolated Gondolin has heard of them! Of course, Morgoth eventually hears of them too, and he immediately knows who the fearsome “Dread Helm” is — it’s that upstart kid from the cursed bloodline! He starts laughing, and presumably sits back with his popcorn to watch the shitshow.

Mîm and his son Ibun are promptly captured by Orcs when they go out to forage for the winter. Mîm uses the exact same tactic that he pulled when Túrin and co. captured him — he promises to lead the Orcs to his secret cave, selling out Túrin to the Orcs. To his credit, Mîm does make the Orcs promise not to kill Túrin, but that doesn’t make much of a difference.

The Orcs kill most of Túrin’s company in their sleep. The rest flee to the top of the hill, but most of them are run down and slain, so that their blood covers the top of the hill like the flowers did. The Orcs actually keep their promise not to kill Túrin, and drag him away. Mîm returns to his House to find a massacre, which he’s not too torn up about, because he’s finally rid of the squatters. Everyone’s dead except for Beleg, who is badly wounded on top of the hill. Mîm takes Beleg’s cursed sword and tries to kill him, but Beleg has enough strength left to catch the sword and push it back. Mîm runs like a coward, and Beleg calls after him that Túrin will one day have his vengeance.

Beleg is a strong Elf who knows healing magic, so he slowly recovers. He searches among the corpses for Túrin’s body, hoping to bury him. When he doesn’t find it, Beleg realizes that Túrin is alive, and goes out to look for him a third time. You’ve gotta admire his devotion to this kid who’s a magnet for trouble.

Beleg by kimberly80

Beleg follows the Orcs’ trail all the way to Taur-nu-Fuin, the Forest under Nightshade in the north near Angband. It’s a dark and scary place, but Beleg is such a badass that he can survive it. In the forest, he finds an Elf sleeping under a tree. After Beleg heals him and gives him some lembas, the Elf says that his name is Gwindor, one of the Elves from Nargothrond who went to fight with Maedhros in the Battle of Unnumbered Tears. Captured Noldor are put to work in Morgoth’s mines, since they’re skilled with metals and gemstones. (The Noldor yearn for the mines!!!) Gwindor managed to escape through a secret tunnel, and got lost in the evil forest.

Gwindor gives Beleg some intel about the Orc party he’s chasing, and tries to dissuade Beleg from following them. After all, he knows what awaits them in Angband if they get captured. But Beleg refuses to abandon Túrin, and Gwindor, having finally gotten a smidge of hope, decides to go with him.

Beleg and Gwindor sneak into the Orc camp at the base of the Thangorodrim and carry Túrin out without a hitch. But when Beleg goes to cut Túrin’s bonds with his cursed sword, he slips and snicks Túrin’s foot with the blade. Túrin wakes up to see someone bending over him with a sword, and freaks out, not realizing who it is. He grabs the sword and kills Beleg, his loyal friend who loved him so much that he repeatedly put himself in harm’s way for Túrin’s sake. A storm rages overhead, and a flash of lightning illuminates Beleg’s face. Túrin is completely distraught to see that he killed his friend, and collapses beside Beleg’s body.

Death of Beleg by Elena Kukanova

In the morning, when the storm passes, Gwindor suggests that they bury Beleg. Túrin is still distraught, but helps bury him right in that spot. They bury Beleg’s bow with him, but take the lembas, and the meteorite sword. Gwindor thinks it’s a shame that such a fine sword should go to waste, and thinks it would be better used to kill the Orcs, and that’ll definitely come back to bite them later.

They go off together, but Túrin is so traumatized that he doesn’t speak. Gwindor looks after him until they reach a magic spring called Eithel Ivrin, which is blessed by Ulmo (the Vala of Water). Túrin drinks from the spring and finally speaks again. He composes a lay to honor Beleg’s life, and sings it at the top of his voice.

Túrin and Gwindor at the Pools of Ivrin, by Ted Nasmith

Gwindor gives Túrin the meteorite sword, and offers to take him back to Nargothrond. Since he can finally speak, Túrin asks Gwindor who he is, and Gwindor tells him that he’s a thrall who was “once” Gwindor son of Guilin. I think it’s interesting that Gwindor introduces himself this way — he no longer feels worthy of his former identity, and though he escaped Morgoth, he still identifies himself as a “thrall.”

Túrin also asks after his father Húrin. Gwindor doesn’t know any details, but he tells Túrin the rumors that Húrin is imprisoned by Morgoth and that his line is cursed. After everything that just happened, Túrin finds that completely believable.

As they continue to travel, Túrin and Gwindor are captured by Gwindor’s own people, the Elves of Nargothrond. They don’t recognize Gwindor at all — being a slave in Angband aged him prematurely, which doesn’t normally happen to Elves — so they assume that Gwindor and Túrin are spies. The first person to recognize Gwindor is the king’s beautiful daughter, Finduilas, because she was in love with him before he left. Gwindor is welcomed back into the fold. Túrin is allowed to stay, but he doesn’t give the Elves his real name.

Something about Túrin must be really appealing to Elves, because the Nargothrond Elves like him as much as Thingol’s Elves did. Also, Túrin has been a teenager this whole time, and only now does he reach manhood. (Actually, like Aragorn, he’s probably significantly longer-lived than the humans of today are. But still.)

Also, he’s really attractive, like his mother Morwen— he has pale skin and dark hair, gray eyes, and the prettiest face of any Man who’s ever lived. At first glance, you’d easily mistake him for one of the Noldor. (After all the pictures of him looking kind of like Aragorn or Boromir, that came as quite a shock.) I guess he cleans up nicely; he has been living in the wilderness for years.

Túrin Turambar by @tolrone

The meteorite sword is reforged, and Túrin renames it Gurthang, “Iron of Death.” He’s so skilled with it that the Elves nickname him Mormegil, “The Black Sword,” which is pretty badass.

Finduilas unwittingly falls in love with Túrin, and out of love with Gwindor. Gwindor catches on, and doesn’t take it personally, but he warns Finduilas about what happened the last time an Elf and a Man fell in love. Túrin may look and act like an Elf, but he’s not one — he’ll die and leave Finduilas alone, and it’s vanishingly unlikely that Mandos will be willing to break the rules a second time. Also, Túrin is clearly cursed, and Beren didn’t have that problem. Gwindor also reveals Túrin’s real name, and tells Finduilas that if she gets mixed up with him, she’s guaranteed to feel the effects of the curse on his bloodline.

Nargothrond. Finduilas and Túrin by Elena Kukanova

Túrin is very mad that Gwindor revealed his true identity. Gwindor tells him that he’ll attract trouble no matter what he calls himself, so, there’s not much point in using aliases.

When Orodreth, the king, hears who Túrin really is, he’s perfectly happy to have a son of Húrin in his ranks. Túrin becomes more and more important in his court — so important, that he can completely overhaul their method of warfare. Remember, ever since Celegorm and Curufin’s attempted coup, the Nargothrond Elves have practiced mainly guerilla warfare, which is sneaky and dishonorable and all that. So now, because of Túrin, the Nargothrond Elves practice open warfare like civilized people. The disadvantage to this is that, now that the Nargothrond Elves are fighting out in the open, Morgoth knows where they are.

Gwindor is worried by how much influence Túrin has, and sounds the alarm, but no one listens to him anymore and he falls out of favor. Poor guy. He survives Angband, is nice to Túrin, gives him a place to live, and is repaid by Túrin stealing his honors and his girlfriend.

In the meantime Morwen, Túrin’s mother, takes advantage of the unexpected peace caused by her son’s decimation of all the Orcs in the area. She flees to Doriath with her daughter, expecting to find Túrin there. She grieves when she learns that Thingol’s court hasn’t heard from Túrin in years. (They actually have heard of “The Black Sword of Nargothrond,” but they have no way to know that it’s Túrin.) Thingol allows Morwen and her daughter to live in his court, and treats them like family.

Okay, I’m gonna stop there! More coming!

[thestraggletag]

Kin, Part 1 of 3

Prompt: Dragon, Transform, Capture, Marriage, Nest

Giftee: @minnl70

Summary: Chosen by the Blue Fairy to slay the last dragon, Belle defies her fate and strikes a deal with the beast, Rumplestiltskin. As they search for a way to break the enchantment, an unexpected bond begins to form, but magic is never without a price—and never quite straightforward.

Rating: M

A/N: Surprise, @minnl70, it's me, your Secret Santa! I'm away on holidays right now but I made sure to properly queue this up for you. If all goes well all chapters of this fic will be posted today, but I'll try to check to make sure they are (and, if possible, also upload the fic to AO3, which I know makes it easier to read). Enjoy and Happy Holidays!

Belle had forgotten what it was like to live without the ever-present threat of ogres. What it was like to not be a prisoner in the fortified castle that was keeping her people alive and protected. What it felt like to not have fear coat the back of her throat. She should be glad that, finally, a fairy had consented to come to their aid. And not just any fairy, but the Blue Fairy, rumoured to be the most powerful of them all. And yet the Lady of the Marchlands felt more uneasy in front of the tiny creature that she had felt in the midst of an ogre attack. There was something about her, something in her demeanour and her syrupy voice that unnerved her.

Maybe it was that she was just now answering their summons. Why not before, when the problem of ogres was easier to fix? Before the bloodshed and the loss of territory? Before the death of her mother? When she had tried to ask that, the fairy had dismissed her concerns, explaining that she could only “just now” be of assistance, without any further elaboration. To Belle the only difference between then and now was the increased desperation, and she couldn’t help but think that this is why the Blue Fairy had waited. For them to be desperate enough to agree to anything, and pay any price.

“The solution to your problem is very simple, though it lies beyond my abilities alone. You need a dragon. Unfortunately, there’s only one left.”

Everyone knew that. Just as everyone knew that, in a distant past, dragons had been uncommon, but not rare, creatures. Nowadays there was only one left, known popularly as the “Dark One”, a being of immense power and magic, that was unlikely to come to their aid.

“Dragons are hard to command, but I can bind its essence to a mortal and subjugate it.” The Blue Fairy spoke of slaving a magical creature as if she was commenting on the weather, or what colour would be in fashion next season. “But it cannot be just any mortal we choose. It must be a maiden, beautiful of body and mind, with blue blood. Someone important.”

It didn’t take a smart person to decipher what the fae meant, and if anyone had any doubts the way her father fiercely opposed the notion would make it very clear. Belle shrunk back in the shadows, uncomfortable with the way the fairy looked at her when she spoke about the binding. There was a greed behind her eyes that felt all too human as she raised her wand without warning and swished it around in her direction, letting fairy dust  float over to her, seeming to take her consent and cooperation for granted.

“It is the only way, sire.”

“To Hell with it. To hell with you. There is no way my little girl is getting anywhere near a dragon.”

In the end, in spite of the protest of all his advisors, Lord Maurice had sent the Blue Fairy away, though she had promised to return in a month’s time, so that the Lord had “enough time to come to his senses”. There was no defeat in her person, only that self-assured, condescending look that told her that she thought she knew the outcome of things already.

Ordinarily, Belle would have felt uncomfortable at the notion that her father would prize her safety above the safety of her people, but she was glad that he sent the Blue Fairy away. Once she was gone Belle was free to go to their library, or what remained of it, and do her own research about what Reul Ghorm had claimed. The books did all seem to point towards a dragon as the most likely solution to her problem. Ogres feared to tread on land claimed by a dragon. It was why ogres incursions had become much more common than a thousand years ago, and why the ogre population had expanded to such a degree. If their land was guarded by a dragon they would be safe not just from this horde, but from any other that appeared in the future. It seemed that the Blue Fairy had not been lying about that, but it didn’t necessarily mean Belle could trust her. There was something else, a reason why the fairy would suddenly seek to help them after years of fighting ogres. Something she hoped to gain for herself that Belle had no intention of giving her. Her unfinished spell had settled on her like a mark on her, a patch of skin on her left shoulder blade, where Blue had rested her wand before her father had stopped her, that seemed to burn whenever she thought about the fairy, as if in warning. 

She kept on investigating, sure that there would be another way of dealing with the Dark One that did not involve forcing him into bondage. She delved deeper, going to the most obscure section of the library, which had blessedly been preserved from the ogre attack that had killed her mother. The scant few ancient tomes they had were housed there, books so archaic they were written in obscure languages almost no one spoke anymore. Languages Belle had mastered the reading of years ago, in secret, after being told those books were forbidden to her. 

It wasn’t until she was halfway through a heavily water-damaged book that she learned the truth. There was a reason why dragons whisking away princesses was a cliche present in most stories told to children. It was because the fairies had been using maidens for what looked like centuries to kill dragons. The book detailed only one such case, which she would’ve dismissed if she hadn’t almost experienced something identical. According to the book dragons were bound to maidens not so they could be tamed, like it had been promised, but so that they would be made vulnerable. The maiden was whisked away and killed by the creature, and later on a knight or a prince, seeking to avenge the woman would- with the help of the fairies, and some prodding along the way- slay the beast and become a dragon-slayer.

It didn’t take Belle long to envision who the fairies had had in mind for that role. She was, after all, betrothed to a hunter. Gaston was a nobleman in the most lax sense of the word, for there was nothing noble in his behaviour or his thoughts. Violent and bloodthirsty, Belle had no doubt he would be more eager to add the title of dragonslayer to the ones he already possessed than to avenge her.

The ogres were an excuse. A means to an end. A way to have a small kingdom become so desperate that their king would be willing to risk one of his daughters. Her papa’s overprotectiveness, his fierce love for her, was the one thing the fairy had not counted on. She had hoped the ogres would be enough of a bargaining chip to get her father to agree.

Belle didn’t find the prospect of dying very appealing, nor the idea of causing the death of the last dragon, and helping the Blue Fairy achieve whatever she was hoping to achieve with the extermination of the Dark One. So, instead, she pivoted on her search, looking for ways to summon dragons. They had a reputation as dealmakers, creatures interested in bargaining to get what they wanted. Surely she could make a deal so that the dragon would protect her people and drive the ogres away. This way she would be in control of her destiny, and serve no other purpose than her own. 

She did the summoning just as the sun set a fortnight after the Blue Fairy had been driven away. She forced herself to act nonchalant as she told her father she planned to take one of the horses and scour a nearby meadow for medicinal herbs they were in desperate need of, kissing his cheek lightly when all she wanted was to throw herself into his arms and have her father hug her so tight he’d lift her off the floor like when she was a child. She made herself pack lightly, lest she arouse suspicion. Some spare undergarments, a little medicine, her favourite book, ink and paper in case there was ever an opportunity to write to her father. She had already done so, leaving a detailed letter in her room that would explain everything to him, along with the books she had consulted and a translated copy of the important passages. She wanted him to understand, if nothing else. And she promised to come back if she could.

With that she took Philippe, her oldest and most reliable horse, and took off into a clearing in the woods she hoped would be private enough, the trees so old they were amongst the tallest in the Enchanted Forest. There all she had to do was say the name of the dragon- it’s real name, written and almost entirely crossed out a number of times in her book- three times.

“Rumplestiltskin, Rumplestiltskin, Rumplestiltskin!”

Nothing happened, for the longest time, to the point where Belle began to despair of having to summon the Blue Fairy after all, when something moved in the darkness beyond the clearing. A pair of dark gold eyes appeared, followed by the glint of golden scales as the dragon stepped into the bit of sun the trees around her couldn’t cover. It was a huge creature, but smaller than what she had envisioned, with green-gold scales covering his belly and dark ochre ones on the rest of its body. It walked on four legs with the grace of a cat, and its eyes spoke of intelligence beyond that of any animal. And not just intelligence, but craftiness. 

“Well, well, what do we have here?”

Even though she had assumed the dragon would be able to communicate somehow, it still surprised her when it spoke in a low, sibilant voice.

“My name is Belle and I’m-”

“Oh, I know who you are, dearie. Which begs the question… What’s the beautiful maiden doing, alone in the woods with the scary dragon?”

“I know I have nothing to be afraid of. I’ve read about it, about where all the stories about abducted princesses and slayed dragons come from.” She paused when she saw the slightest change in the dragon’s expression, from faintly-mocking to suspicious. She was surprised at how expressive it could be, given the scales and the sharp angles of its face. “Can you feel it?”

“Feel what?”

“The Blue Fairy’s magic on me.”

Its frown- his frown really- deepened, and he moved his long neck to get his nose closer to her, taking in a deep breath before huffing out a puff of smoke, as if it had scented something foul. Before it could be angry at her she rushed to explain that she was not in any rush to rid the world of its last dragon. She told him the entire story, about her people’s desperation and how, finally, the Blue Fairy had come to offer her help. What she had told them about dragons and how she had managed to start her spell before her father had thrown her out of the castle, and what she had uncovered afterwards.

“So, instead of dealing with one duplicitous magical creature, you decided to turn to a far more dangerous one for help? Why would I even help you, dearie? I could just pluck you from here and put you atop a tall tower with no doors and be rid of you as a problem.”

“And I could leap from the tower. Or starve myself. And then you’d be mortal.”

The dragon stood very still, looking at her more intently, only his tail swishing back and forth, which she took to mean he was displeased. Or perhaps curious. She had the feeling he was very much used to getting his way, and hadn’t counted on her having thought things through. She couldn’t tell whether that gave her an advantage or simply served to make him angry.

“But I won’t. I won’t do any of those things. I will come willingly, if you get rid of the ogres in my land. It’ll give you time to figure out how to undo Reul Ghorm’s magic. And then we can part ways in peace.”

The dragon seemed to study her for the longest time, eyes slightly narrowed and strangely still, looking more like a gleaming statue than a live creature. Then, after what felt like an eternity, it unfurled its wings to pounce on her, talons catching on the edges of her cloak.

“Deal’s struck, dearie!”

There was a cloud of burgundy magic, smelling of burnt wood and sage instead of the Blue Fairy’s cloying flower smell, and when she could see again she was in what looked like a castle.

“Is this where you live?”

Belle wasn’t sure what she had pictured, but it wasn’t the run-down opulence of her surroundings.

“Disappointed it’s not a cave? Or a mountain made of bones?”

She shook her head, even though she had pictured something more akin to a cave. The castle was dark, barely lit by a few pitiful, sputtering torches on the walls, and the faint light coming from a series of tall but hopelessly-dirty windows. It smelt damp but also of burnt wood, and a layer of ashes seemed to cover everything. She could feel the chill in the air and knew, without seeing, that it was snowing outside. They were likely atop a mountain, given the thinness of the air.

“Come along, dearie, I’ll show you where you can sleep and be out of the way.”

The sheer size of the castle allowed the dragon room to move, though it was a tight fit in narrow corridors and down winding stairs, not checking to see whether she was following him or even if she could, given what little light there remained as they went deeper down into the bowels of the castle. They finally came to what looked like-

“A dungeon? You want me to sleep in a dungeon?”

The dragon turned away, uninterested in whether she agreed or not.

“You can do as you please, dearie. This is the cleanest and warmest place you’ll find to sleep tonight.”

Sleep was not exactly something Belle saw a lot of that night, curled up over a pile of musty straw, her cloak wrapped tightly around her as she let herself cry, thinking about her father, who had likely already discovered what she had done, thinking of her room, which still smelt like the lavender packets her more insisted they make every year, and everything of hers she had left behind.

The crying must have eventually exhausted her, because she woke up the next morning to less darkness than before. There was a small sliver of a window up high from which some pale morning light seemed to enter. With it she could see the mouse holes, the gossamer spider webs in the corners and the patches of mold in the bits of hay she had discarded the night before by their smell. There was, also, an old oil lamp, the handle rusted over but with a bit of oil still inside. She lit it using one of the torches outside and decided to go exploring, deciding that at least she needed to identify a source of freshwater, and hopefully a place with food.

The castle was less intimidating in the light of day. It gave off an air of fargone opulence, of wealth and power having fallen into disrepair and neglect. She went from room to room, trying to come across anything that resembled a kitchen. Instead she found herself in a bit, opulent room, with faded but once-rich tapestries and thick rugs on the floor. It felt warmer than anyone else, inviting her inside, till something made her stand still.

There was someone else in the room. She didn’t know how she could tell, a feeling in her bones she had never had before, but she was absolutely sure. She held out the lantern in front of her, as far as her arm could reach, and waited for her eyes to adjust. At first she saw nothing, just the expected darkness. But as her eyes adjusted to it she began to notice a faint shape. Thin and scraggly, barely taller than her, and full of sharp angles. Decidedly non-human, but unlike any creature she’d ever seen.

“Who are you?”

The thing seemed to vibrate with excitement at her question, large, golden eyes focusing on her. Belle rather thought she felt like a rabbit ought, when spotted by a wolf. Every nerve-ending was tingling, age-old instincts telling her to turn and run. To escape. But she knew those eyes, as impossible as it seemed.

“I think you know, dearie.”

His voice was heavily accented, and higher than what one would expect from a human male. It had a sing-songy quality to it, a mocking sort of undertone that was difficult to ignore. It was a silly voice meant to contrast with the dangerous nature of the speaker, but still carried a faint sibilant trace she recognised.

“You’re the Dark One.”

The figure in the shadows moved until it was partially in the light. She saw then that her initial impression was right: a thin, unnatural figure dressed in ripped leathers and hide, with green-gold, scaly skin, golden eyes and matted long hair. Sharp teeth too, from what she could see. Much like his dragon form in many ways, but different at the same time. Less unreadable, perhaps, now that she could better understand his mannerisms.

“Dragons are natural shapeshifters, and as large as this castle is it can be quite uncomfortable to navigate in my other form. This is as much the real me as the creature you met yesterday. And an infinitely more convenient form to read books in. Easier to turn the pages, and less likelihood of burning some priceless tome to a crisp.”

The dragon seemed just as dangerous in his smaller form as he did in his big one, the taint of dark magic hanging around him like a cloak, so potent even someone with no magic like her could feel it. Still, they had an agreement, and everything she had read about the Dark One said he never reneged on deals.

“Is there anything you need in particular, dearie? Can’t think of any reason why you wouldn’t be avoiding me like mice avoid cats.”

The way he smiled at her at that, showing his teeth as if to remind her that he was predator and she prey. Belle took a deep breath, bringing the lantern closer to her so the light would bolster up her courage.

“I need to know the way to the kitchens. You don’t want me to starve any more than I do, so it’d be helpful if I could know where the food and the water are.”

He flicked a clawed finger, a tiny wisp flame forming in the air. It was a strange, almost green colour and danced around, as if eager.

“Follow the little wisp, it’ll guide you to the kitchens. You can take whatever you want from there, if it’ll keep you from bothering me.”

With another flick of his wrist the flame was off, scurrying quickly out of the room and leaving a faint green-gold trace in its wake that Belle barely managed to catch. It seemed to weave in and out of hallways for what felt like forever, but finally it led her the right way, towards a filthy, but very spacious, kitchen. Cobwebs, dirt and grime covered almost every surface area she could see, and the amount of space highlighted how barren the room was. Some fishing around uncovered a barrel of questionable apples and some hard bread, but nothing more. There was a well just outside, sheltered from the wind by the castle walls, which was difficult but not impossible to operate. 

She understood then the glee the creature showed when she mentioned wanting something to it. The dragon clearly disliked her and her presence there, and she couldn’t exactly blame him, when maidens had been used for hundreds of years to decimate dragons. She couldn’t fathom what it would be like, to be the last human. To have no kin. To live alone.

Her situation was not so dire in comparison, and she told herself that as she gathered up her hair and munched on the least sour apple she could find. She could make the best of a bad situation. The castle might be a bit rundown, but it was spacious and beautiful, full of interesting nooks to explore. This was an adventure, if she was only brave enough to take it on.

[tokoyamisstuff]

Spellbound pt. 2

Chapter 2: Parce Domine (Lt. "spare, o lord")

3,1k. words | f! Reader | pre-canon | slow burn | not proofread

[Previous Chapter]

"Where is it, bloody hell, where?!"

Anderson frantically searches his room for that particular bible among the many he owns, internally cursing himself for keeping his room so unorganized.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, he tucks it from a pile of books, making it collapse. He opens it, shaky hands flipping through the pages until he found the page you wrote your number into.

A clever move of yours, in hindsight - any other paper he would instantly have disposed of, but he'd never dare such sacrilege as to throw away the holy scripture, couldn't even bring himself to rip out a mere page of it.

He's found himself admiring your handwriting, mutely pronouncing your name as his finger runs over the dried ink. You had additionally scribbled a little arrow towards one certain bible passage, along with a smiley and an exclamation mark.

! -> "Therefore, as God’s chosen people, holy and dearly loved, clothe yourselves with compassion, kindness, humility, gentleness and patience. Bear with each other and forgive one another if any of you has a grievance against someone. Forgive as the Lord forgave you."

He grumbles loudly at your subtle provocation, but needed to swallow his pride for the situation at hand was dire.

At the very same time on a different continent, you were deeply concentrated with an experiment when you got startled by the ringing of your phone. Not many people have this number, and those that do certainly don't call with a suppressed number.

"Hi! Y/N here" you speak with a cheerful voice despite not knowing who it is, and Anderson can feel his heart pounding against his ribcage at the delicate sound.

For a while there's only silence from the other side, until a grim voice finally wrung out an introduction. "...this is Father Anderson."

A self-satisfied grin formed on your lips. If only you could see his face right now, he's probably seething at this humiliation of crawling back to you.

"Ohh, look who decided to call. And so soon already..." you tease, smugly leaning against your table. "To what do I owe this unexpected pleasure?"

You hear him take a deep breath, the gravity of his sigh a bit concerning. "...a child in my care is...sick, very sick through something otherworldly, but we can't identify the cause. We've tried everything, even our most skilled doctors and exorcists, but..." his voice is shaking in apprehension, "I'm...at my wits end here...what if the boy dies...I can't-"

"Hey." Your whole demeanour shifts immediately upon hearing this, tone stern yet reassuring. "Calm down, it's alright. We'll find a solution, I promise."

Anderson lets out a small whine, running a hand from his face through his hair before speaking up again. "Please, just...hurry..."

It took you half a day until you were close enough to teleport, already the midst of night when you draw the coordinates Anderson gave you into your magic circle.

The orphanage is almost empty as you appeared in a blind spot outside in the garden, sending the paladin a quick message that you had arrived. He came to pick you up almost instantly, a dissheveled mess of a man rushing towards you only to be taken aback by your appearance.

"What in the world are you wearing?" he speaks between grit teeth at the modest, almost pious clothing you currently had. Even a gold cross necklace adorned your neck, and he could barely hide the obvious disdain of using his religion as a disguise. But he bites back any argument due to lack of time. "I'm in the midst of enemy territory, did you really think I'd draw attention by looking like a walking target?"

The priest nods mutely at your reasoning, waving for you to follow him. As you walk unseen through dark hallways, he can't help but keep glancing over to you, unable to decide if he was irritated or astonished by the way you presented yourself.

Seeing you like that almost makes him forget that you were far from innocent. He can't believe his desparation drove him into doing this, putting the orphans at risk by bringing some evil savage like you here.

But then again, this orphanage is not only symbolically a spiritual place - it is enhanced by countless precautions to keep the underworld away. Yet you roam it so freely, without even the slightest effect or repercussion.

Deep down he knew the plain truth - it's because you weren't a threat.

"How is the child?" you cut through the heavy silence coating you two, and his expression turns pensive. "Getting worse by the hour. But see for yourself."

When you entered the small bedroom your heart dropped. A small and frail boy, five or six years old at best had been tied hands and feet to the mattress. The noises he made were heartscattering, his misery causing you to let out a choked sob.

Anderson put on his usual strong and calm front as he walked over to the child, strained creaks filling the room as the massive man sat on the edge of the bed, exchanging a cold cloth on the little one's forehead. "We saved him from the fangs of an occultist a few days ago, and shortly after he fell into this state."

Your bottom lip trembles slightly at the sight, but you tried to keep it together. Not thinking about the impression it makes you pull out a small dagger from your sleeve, and without hesitation Anderson grabs your wrist roughly, twisting it just shy from painful. "Don't you dare try something, wench. I'm protecting these kids with my life, do you hear me?"

The paladin was on high alert ever since you stepped foot onto these holy grounds, and now all of those images Iscariot had indoctrinated him with were resurfacing.

One in particular, the old superstition that witches use the body parts of children to make their ointments.

"Darling..." The endearing term only adds to his fury, blaming himself for having been blinded by your innocent facade. Still, he automatically softens his hold when he sees your face grimace in pain. "Don't you think if I wanted to snatch a child I wouldn't have to go out of my way and come to the Vatican of all places?"

You drop the knife to the ground, looking at him and the boy with pleading eyes. "I just wanted to cut the ropes, I swear. They're unnecessary and cruel."

Anderson narrows his eyes at you before letting go with a frustrated growl, using a bayonet to cut the child free himself. You sit down way too close to the man but he wouldn't protest, since it means he can better stop you shall he not like anything you do.

"That's not a demonic possession, not entirely at least" you ponder, evaluating the black marks spreading like vines across the child's body. "It's a pact. The occultist wanted to use him as a human sacrifice...he asks the fiend a favor, and in return the boy either dies or the curse takes physical form eventually, causing a lot of harm."

He sees you rummaging in the small bag, to his confusion taking out way more things that could possibly fit in there. You let out an amused huff at his puzzled expression. "Pocket dimension, jealous? I bet carrying all those bayonets is really difficult."

Anderson angrily works his jaw, brow sinking deeper and deeper with every word you say - until he sees you tend to the child so tender and careful, genuine worry present on your face. Letting go of the tiny hand to put yours on the priest's shoulder, you try to raise his spirits. "I got this. Don't you worry."

It takes a while until everything is set up for the ritual, and Anderson already dreads how to explain all this stuff if anyone unexpectedly interfered.

You position yourself at the foot of the bed, while you sent him to a corner of the room, still wary yet trusting enough by now. "Oh, and Anderson?" Cutting deeply into your palm and letting blood drip onto the sheets, you look at the priest with a conflicted, almost fearful expression. "Yes?"

Your voice is filled with dread as you tell him your request. "Promise you kill me if things go south."

Although the mental image somehow made his guts churn like he had just been disemboweled, he wouldn't let it show. "...no need to tell me." You crack a forced yet hopeful smile at the man and continue.

The whole ceremony didn't even last a minute, and before Anderson could comprehend what happened - let alone if it succeeded - you collapsed to the floor, holding your face while screaming in agony. Instinctively he drew his bayonets, but then tossed them away and rushed to your side against all common sense.

"Hey, hey, talk to me!" He gently shook you as he called your name, but you remained paralyzed in pain. For a while he couldn't do anything but just held you firmly into his arms until your squalls ebbed down to breathless whimpers.

When you finally recovered and opened your eyes again, he was horrified to see the same pitch black that was tainting the child had swallowed your whole left eye. The iris is white and absent of a pupil, and yet he could still feel your soft gaze on him.

"Heh...heya there..." you chuckle weakly, and he can't help but mirror your smile in relief, reluctant to let you out of his grip just yet. "Oi, you scared me half to death.

"Sorry, sorry..." You blink heavily trying to adjust to the partial blindness on the left, only now realizing the position you're in. Wriggling your eyebrows at the man now that your usual smugness had returned, you sit up, positioning yourself in his lap.

Despite feeling his head spin at the indecent proximity, the priest's attention shifts to the boy again. He looks...better. Great, actually. All marks were gone from his body and color had returned to his cheeks. He was resting peacefully, finally able to give in to exhaustion after such a long period of torment.

"Thank god..."

"God had nothing to do with this!" you object with a sour expression, feeling like you're robbed of your credit. Anderson laughed heartily at the adorable sight, squeezing the sides of your shoulders ever so slightly. "Oh yes, he did. He sent me an angel to save my wee boy."

Suddenly the door slams open and you both startle, leaping away from each other to gain some acceptable distance again. Two girls around their early teens bark in, visibly upset for their younger 'sibling'.

The word slipped his throat faster than his mind could catch up on and for a while you just stared at each other in disbelief. "...maybe" you mumble eventually, straightening your clothes and hair after standing up again. Seeing him so approachable and uncharacteristically happy for a change certainly did something to you, but you'd rather drop dead than to admit it.

"Heinkel, Yumie..." The paladin speaks strict yet with a profound affection, "It's far late for you to be up. What are you doing here?"

"We-we heard screams and got worried" the more timid one of them explained, but the blonde was boring holes into your skull with her questioning glare. "Who's that?"

Anderson panicks briefly, feeling caught. "That's Y/N. She's..." He gazes over to you, sharp features softening briefly as he scans his mind for an answer. "...a-a friend. Yes."

Your eyes widen for a fraction but you're quick to play along to save his integrity. "Right. Your dear father called me to assist him heal your brother in faith. I'm somewhat of an...occult expert, if you may say."

That answer obviously wasn't satisfying their curiosity and they kept prying. "What oder are you from?"

"Oh, I tend to work alone..." You rub the back of your head nervously, pacing on spot. "I'm more of a consultant."

They both stare at you for a while, eyes darting between you and the father until they notice the soundly sleeping child. "So he's doing better?"

"That's amazing! How did you do that? What caused it? And why is your left eye closed? How long do you know our Father?"

"The boy is completely healed." You smile gently as you reassure them, "He'll be alright." Hearing this the two practically rejoiced, rushing towards you as they riddled you with questions.

"Heavens, girls..." Anderson shooed them away from you, adjusting his glasses as he scolded them. "Remember your teachings. Stop harassing the poor gal, we all need to get some rest now."

They pout a little, too excited to want to leave and yet obeying without question. "Alright..." one of them ends the sentence of the other. "...but will you still be here tomorrow morning?"

"I'm afraid not. Remember to study well and not cause your Father over here any trouble, alright?" You put one hand on each of their heads and they beam up at you with a pleading look. "But you'll come visit again, won't you?"

"W-Well...I-I don't think that's-"

"Who knows" Anderson interrupted your pathetic struggling for words, "She's a busy woman, but she'd be thrilled to come when she's needed. Or am I wrong?"

That compromise seemingly placated the already yawning tweens and they finally trotted towards the bedchambers again, leaving you alone once more.

You choke on a gasp for a second when he looks at you as if that was an order and not a suggestion. "I-I mean sure, yes...anything to help..." Oh, he'd definetly get payback for this.

"What sweet girls..." you say dreamily as you look after them, beginning to laugh. "And so well-behaved. I almost can't believe you raised them." Only almost, though. That blunt stubbornness surely didn't fall far from the tree.

"Silence" he speaks between grit teeth, but they hint a small smile beneath. "Don't you dare getting too cocky, little witch."

"Did you truly mean what you said earlier?" You then give the man a side-glance, unbelieving that he'd seriously want to associate with the likes of you. Actually you were prepared to never hear from him again after this was over, lest allowing you to step foot on here ever again.

He crossed his arms in front of his broad chest, scoffing as he internally finished his moral debate. "Why not? After all, you're a frie- ally" he corrects himself in time.

Your lips curled into a crooked smirk at his revelation, yet you didn't want to push his buttons too hard. "I think I might need some fresh air..."

Anderson safely guides you out of the orphanage, away from any watchful eyes until you finally drop on a nearby bench. He keeps a watchful eye on you, face twisting in sorrow when you look up to the starry sky.

Despite everything, you still look like a surreal piece of art.

The priest sighs as he plummets down on the other end of the bench, looking anywhere but your face. "So..." he finally dares asking, though dreading the answer. "What about your eye?"

Leaning against the backrest, you let a hand run over the closed lid. "There was no way to purge the curse, so...I absorbed it instead." You turn to look at him, cheerful and appeasing. "I just need to keep it in check. I'll make it work somehow, I always do. Hell, I bet I even find a way to use it to my advantage. You just wait!"

The paladin faces the floor, arms resting on his knees as the familiar weight of guilt begins to settle in on his shoulders. "Why didn't you ask me on your stead?" You didn't even know this child, but you knew doing this would cost you this greatly.

Again, you just didn't make any sense at all.

"Too risky" you brush it off, waving in a dismissing gesture. "I doubt anyone would be able to stop a behemoth like you if the curse overwhelms you."

"...I honestly don't know what to say."

"How about 'thank you' for a start?" you laugh as if your sacrifice meant nothing at all. Your stoic friendliness despite the circumstances was almost deterring.

Anderson's mind keeps wandering back to what he's been conditioned to believe in without question - that witches are eldritch devil worshippers, capable of heinous evils.

"Thank you, Y/N, truly" he speaks in a meek whisper, until his voice becomes more firm as he convinced himself to believe in you. "And I need to apologize too, I...misjudged you."

But a person caring so deeply, so selflessly to protect an innocent soul cannot be completely corrupt, he concludes.

"No worries. Actually, you're full of pleasant surprises as well!" You pat his back lightly and the touch sents a shiver down his spine. "Didn't think you to be a children's man, for example."

"Heh. And I didn't think you'd be the type to fraternize with catholics."

"Touché." You snort, fondling with the cross dangling from your neck. "But I don't despise christians, I'm very fond of any believers in general." Organized religion that tries to twist their god's teachings for personal benefit, however... "Us witches believe in unison of all humans. Our philosophy is benevolence, unraveling the wonders of this and other worlds, and using this knowledge to aid others...so I'd personally call myself a researcher more than anything."

He nods at your exposition and tries to bite back any snark comment lying on the tip of his tongue. "Why are you telling me all this?"

"Well, I was wondering..." You shuffle closer, stopping only when you felt him becoming uncomfortable. "...what limits you could break if you let me enhance you. I could give you equipment or teach you some spells. Imagine how freely you could move if you can summon those bayonets instead of carrying them in your coat, for example."

Anderson raises an eyebrow at you, his lip twitching in mild distrust. "And you're gonna do this out of your great pagan altruism?"

"Exactly...well, not completely." You poke his chest and he lets out an irritated huff. "You're gonna let me know the secret behind your regeneration."

"Oh please, I couldn't tell you even if I wanted to. Not even I have access to those kinda documents." You grin almost devilishly as you continued to persuade him. "Doesn't matter, I can figure it out myself. I just need you." That wording made the fine hair in his neck raise into goosebumps. "Also, you pretty much owe me one."

Right now it felt like he was offered a contract with something demonic, and it frightened him how close he was to give in. "And I will set my face against anyone who turns to mediums and spiritists to prostitute themselves by following them, and I will cut them off from their people." (Leviticus 20:6)

This again. Ugh. "Your regeneration ability also isn't standard nature. As are our conjurations. It's all science at the bottom line, or god-given, or whatever you want to call it."

"...let me think about it."

Gotcha.

"Well, you know how to find me, darling" you coo and he feels his resolve crumbling, the sound of your voice a witchcraft in itself. "You wouldn't be the first cleric to accept enlightenment."

[tavyliasin]

Disability Pride Essays - Halsin, Carer Fatigue, and The End Of Healing's Path

Halsin might be one of the last characters you’d be thinking of with disability parallels and chronic conditions - he seems to be pretty well adjusted, arguably easily the most stable of the companions - but that’s where we find another couple of angles to the topic. First is around carers, and the potential for burnout when someone takes on the responsibility for the wellbeing of too many others. The second is more about how Halsin’s story can show us what recovery can look like much further down the line, the result of time, work, and healing. So there is a little mild mention of trauma, but nothing in depth, so whilst there is still a CW here for talk of mental health and healing, it shouldn't be as heavy as other topics. Still, know yourself and feel free to skip whatever you're not in the right place to read~ Your well-being matters. So I hope you’ll forgive me for this one being a little less direct than our other character examinations, but it’s still a topic well worth covering~ 

What is Halsin’s Disability?

When you look deeply and closely at Halsin’s character, and listen to the little throwaway lines he can drop so very casually, you’ll notice a couple of things. First, he talks very casually about an incident that sounds intensely traumatic - years of being held captive by drow - but in a way that suggests, along with his actions, that he’s no longer struggling with the impact of this trauma but has come to accept it. There’s another aspect, too, that we see in the romance scene where he struggles with intense emotions physically transforming him into a bear. Now, this is obviously not a real disability that we see in the real world, but plenty of people do struggle with overwhelming emotions that can leave them feeling like someone different or unable to communicate in the ways they normally would. Beyond this, we see a carer. Someone whose instinct is to support, listen, and quite simply help in any way he can. When we first meet him, he’s very quick to offer his aid in dealing with the tadpoles even if he doesn’t have the solution yet. Halsin simply wants to do everything he can, because he can. 

How Do We See The Disability In The Game?

The bear transformation is something we only really see happening without his choosing to in the romance scene, though at this point I’m almost certain that those of you who haven’t romanced him have encountered the scene somewhere by now. It’s one of the most famous scenes for how unexpected it is, and has been in plenty of promotional materials at this point. Arguably what we see most from Halsin through the game is in his interactions with others, and also if he’s Orin’s victim the things she says in his form are instantly gut-wrenching - talking about being held captive, tortured into losing control, harming innocents - these are easily what we can interpret to be Halsin’s worst fears about himself. Things he keeps well controlled and very carefully in check, with his instinct being to help not harm, although we know it isn’t Halsin, there’s a moment where it’s believable. Painful. And it works because it can reflect the real fears that people who have worked hard on their mental health can have about having a bad day and saying or doing things they would never consciously choose.

How Does This Reflect Real Life?

The thing I keep coming back to as I think about Halsin and his story is how he is similar to Astarion in some ways, which might well entirely be some heavy personal projection going on I’ll admit that one! But where Astarion shows us the early stages of recovery, of trauma still fresh and the difficulties of healing from it, Halsin shows us later stages. There’s more time that has passed, more work that has been done within himself and outside of himself. As a result Halsin has come to that point where he accepts the things that he has endured, even if they are still painful and he doesn’t approve of them, and they are no longer impacting his day to day life. Arguably we see this most clearly when he is quite happy to join in at the brothel with the Drow, despite his past experiences. Now, all that said, there is a point that can be made that someone who talks too casually about their past trauma might not have processed it in the best way, but for the most part what we have is someone who seems to be coping well in their day to day. It’s quite relatable, to see both the earlier stages of healing and those later ones, and comparing them can be helpful to see how far we have come in ourselves as well as the potential place we could be if we keep going. Otherwise, what we have in Halsin is the closest thing Faerun has to a therapist and/or carer. Whilst leadership isn’t his aim entirely, it’s a role he naturally falls into because he has that calm and understanding presence that many around him respect. Arguably, leadership isn’t good for him either - not because he’s bad at it, but because like many who fall into a caring role for the people around them, he doesn’t know when to stop. That’s the thing with caring, you don’t want to say “no, sorry, I can’t help you” even if you’re running on empty. But eventually there has to be a limit, for your own well-being. Just this morning I came across a meme that fits perfectly: “You can’t pour from an empty cup” doesn’t entirely work, because all you get from that is nothing. “You can’t boil and empty kettle” is far more accurate, because not only do you risk damaging the kettle if you keep trying to boil it whilst empty, if you really push it you might just set the whole kitchen on fire.

And this, really, is what we have going on in the Grove in Act 1. Not only is Halsin trying to lead and protect the druids, but he’s also taking in the Tiefling refugees, then going out after the goblins to investigate and protect everyone. He’s stretched himself too thin, not asked for help when it is needed, and as a result we have a Grove in chaos with nobody to prevent the conflicts from escalating between druids and Tieflings, Halsin himself captured, and the goblins now know the way to the Grove to stage an all out attack if the druids don’t perform a forbidden rite first. It’s a mess, and one he has landed in by trying to lead from the front with his fingers in too many pies, but when you do that too much you won’t know which fingers have gravy on and which have custard any more. Maybe that’s a very silly analogy, but good gods did I realise that I’ve been far too close to this myself with taking on too many projects. Luckily I usually know where the line is before ending up in captivity in a goblin castle, but if you’re also reading this and feeling like it’s getting a bit close to home: take a break before you burn down the kitchen. 

Therapy and Therapists

When we look at Halsin as a therapist-like character, which admittedly may come more from the fan created content than the game, there’s plenty there that reflects life. There are a good number of people who go into therapy and care professions because they have direct experience with mental and physical health difficulties. There is a reason why all therapists also see a therapist themselves to cope with their work, and whilst it isn’t universal there is a reasonable venn diagram of people who have felt the same over this. To borrow from my own prior essays, “to truly understand suffering is to avoid being its cause”. Those who have felt harm will often seek to reduce it in others. It’s almost a shame that we don’t get to explore this much further, with how he can easily be a healing and stabilising presence for many of the companions, but that’s where fan works can come in and build on that foundation. I admit I often find myself thinking about how Halsin might use his experience and deep capacity for care to work with each and every one of the companions to help them heal from their own wounds. That, in itself, can be cathartic and soothing. I highly recommend it.

Taking On Too Many Burdens

So that downside of being a carer… I’ve already covered some of this, but we are very close to having a burned out Archdruid crumbling under the immense pressure in Act 1, then we go straight in to Act 2 where he has to face the consequences of past mistakes and all of the guilt that goes along with that. It’s clear he has not forgiven himself for what happened with the Shadow Curse, Thaniel, and Shar’s influence spreading over the region. This can sometimes be seen in real life, too, where someone has tried to help and made things worse, given bad advice, or generally made mistakes that they quietly hold on to for decades. Forgiving ourselves is hard, even when we rationalise it, look at it objectively to know we were young and didn’t know any better, or didn’t have the experience needed to help in the way we would now. But I want to take a moment to remind everyone still here that we are only human, not perfect, not infallible. Mistakes are how we learn, and we should focus on what we can do rather than what we cannot change. In Halsin’s story, we know he has been avoiding the Shadow Curse. He even tells the player that the land should be avoided if at all possible, because he knows the danger there, but still offers to be a guide. It’s difficult to face up to past mistakes, but with the right help and support, Halsin is able to find a way to help at last and ease that burden from his own heart. He’s no longer turning away, running from it, or feeling like there’s nothing he can do - instead he is able to find that solution with the help of the player and companions, healing the land as he heals himself. This really can be such a reflection of trauma and how we handle our mistakes, as well as the importance of knowing when we have taken on too much and need help and support. Just as Halsin asks the player to help him find a way to break the curse, to fight for him to keep the portal open as he retrieves Thaniel, we can see this as a parallel to a carer asking for help or respite care. It’s not saying “this is a terrible burden that I don’t want to bear” but instead “my strength has a limit, your help will make it possible to keep going”. With that support, with being able to know the Harpers can take care of the refugees, Halsin is able to find not only the healing for the land but begin to heal the hurt from the weight of responsibility he has shouldered alone for centuries. And just as a side note here, for those wondering why he seems so guilty about it all, there’s some lore from Early Access that was eventually cut from the game that explains he was the cause of the curse when he accidentally killed Isobel - that set off the sequence of events leading to Ketheric’s desperate actions, Aylin’s imprisonment, and Shar’s curse settling over the land. 

The End of the Path of Healing

Act 3 for Halsin, if the curse has been lifted, really continues to reinforce that this is someone who has learned from his mistakes - both the recent and the distant past. He’s not rushing back to take over the Grove again once his work is done with the Elder Brain, instead he’s finding a new path. One that still allows him to be in nature where he wishes to be, helping the cursed lands continue to heal, as well as caring for the refugees and others who need a place to go. In the epilogue, too, it sounds as if he has learned not to take on all the responsibility himself either, instead sharing the work of caring for his people so that if he is gone for a few days he doesn’t need to worry about it crumbling apart or falling to friction and arguments like the Grove once did under Kagha’s leadership. Halsin shows us that although we cannot take on everything ourselves, we can resolve things when we have the right help and support. He also shows us that our mistakes won’t always define us, nor can our traumas, and although they cannot be erased or undone, there are ways we can reconcile them with ourselves. To move forwards with what we have learned and reach a point where we are no longer so deeply haunted by them.

What We Can Learn From Halsin’s Story

There are a few things we can learn from Halsin’s experiences and how they are portrayed in the game, and largely they serve as an example of that later stage of healing and reconciling past experiences with the present self. This might for some feel like a reflection of themselves now, but for others instead it can be an example that it is possible to make that progress and reach that goal.

Whilst we do see that moment of Halsin not being able to control his Wild Shape in the heat of intense emotions (in this case, lust and passion), it’s also shown that he still does have that control. That he’s learned how to handle that change and bring himself back to where he wants to be - in this case, going from non-verbal in bear form to resuming his usual body shape and calming himself. I feel like this can serve as a good example that although our emotions might still have moments that they overwhelm us, once we have taken that time to process them and learn how to cope with them, we can use those techniques to bring ourselves back to where we want to be. Not easily, of course, but we won’t always be completely at the mercy of the whims of powerful emotions. They’re still there, but what has changed is how we cope with them. Really what I’d like to take away today is that caring for others is a good and positive thing to do, but there must always be a limit. Drawing that line is going to be tough, naturally, but if we continue to try to do too much with caring for others we risk neglecting our own needs and ending up in a much worse place. It’s alright to ask for support even when you’re providing it to someone else, whether through a professional career or through a more casual role of being a carer for a loved one or simply supporting friends through hard times. You won’t always be able to do it all alone, and this is not a failing. It’s normal and reasonable to need respite, help, and support of your own. In the wider experiences of disability, many of us who are disabled learn this the hard way, that we might want independence but there are quite solid limitations to that which need to be worked with and around instead of fighting against them and making things worse. Many of us rely on carers and support to differing degrees, so it is also important to recognise when they may need reminding about not boiling that empty kettle.

So as we finish off this last of the planned long pieces, I encourage you all to keep in mind that healing is possible. That you can be a support to others in the ways that you once needed yourself. But to not let it be to your own detriment, you are still worthy of care and support even as you provide it to others.