#me vibrating at high speeds: WOLVES WOLVES WOLVES WOLVES WOLVES

[theminecraftbee]

The moon has fully set over the horizon. The howling over the server has stopped. Four Hermits sit in a circle, staring just slightly away from each other, as to not be caught staring. Joe is miserably trying to wring mud out of his puppet. Stress isn't bothering about the mud at all but is despairing at how shredded her jumper is. Somehow, Zedaph has only lost a shoe, which is more concerning than any of the prior people. Xisuma is deliberately not checking himself. The damning lack of helmet on his head, though, means he can't avoid feeling how he underwent the same terrible transformation as everyone else.

"So," he says, finally.

"I could use pants," Joe says, finally giving up on washing out his puppet, and, ah. Yes. Those are pretty well destroyed, aren't they? Xisuma looks away politely, feeling his face heat up. It heats up more when he realizes everyone can see it, gosh, he's–he's not so sure how he feels about that–

"I think we all need pants. Look at us," Stress says, and if Xisuma can be looking away any harder, he sure is now. Wait, she said 'all', does that include... Oh, oh dear.

"Well I don't know about you, but I still have perfectly serviceable pants," Zedaph says imperiously.

"You know, if anything, that's weirder, given the way we were all giant wolves traipsing around in the night just now. Which is strange itself! However, wolves don't normally wear pants, so really, the fact the only article of clothing you've lost is your shoes is less miraculous and more actively impossible!" Joe responds.

"Well you're actively impossible," mutters Zedaph.

"My god, it was real," Xisuma says.

"Well, I mean, I sort of figured it had to be, what with the four of us being all covered in mud and tired and your helmet being gone and all that," Stress says.

"It was real," Xisuma says.

The four of them sit in silence a little longer. The sun continues its steady march upwards into the sky. It's April; the day is longer than the night, by now, so they aren't wasting but so much time compared to the time the moon was up. The time the moon was up feels a bit more like a dream than anything else, too; distantly, Xisuma wonders if this is what spiders feel like when they become angry during the night, or what drives the undead from the ground. It's a disquieting thought, and he'd literally lived in a skeleton!

"So," Joe says. "So. Which one of us is going to yell at Zedaph for biting us?"

"Rude!" Zedaph says. "Very rude, I'm not the one that bit you! You bit me! Xisuma bit me, actually, you all saw him!"

"What? No, I didn't!" Xisuma says. "Gosh, if I were a werewolf, don't you think you'd know by now?"

"Hm. Suspicious," Zedaph says.

"No?" Xisuma says.

"I mean, I'd try to claim it was my fault, what with being a monster and all, but I'm actually a different sort of beastie normally," Stress says. "Being all doggy is new for me. I should show Iskall. Hey, do you think I should bite Iskall?"

"Yes," Zedaph says.

"No," Xisuma says.

"I'll split the difference and say maybe," Joe says. "Also, since we're arguing about it anyway, I'll say that I think I'd remember if I bit someone, although maybe I wouldn't. It's been a weird night. Maybe I should just go ahead and get everyone apology gifts instead?"

"Please don't," Zedaph says.

"Aww, but I like his gifts," Stress says.

"Honestly, yeah, I was–no, Zedaph is right, it'd be too distracting," Xisuma says, thinking of many of the, er, gifts he's gotten from Joe in the past. "Besides, it's not your fault. But if none of us bit anyone, then why on earth are we all werewolves no–oh no."

"That was ominous?" Joe says.

"Oh. Ohhhhhh," Zedaph says. "Whoops."

"It was supposed to be a joke about investment bankers," Xisuma says.

"Wait, what, do you really think the silly name turned us into werewolves?" Stress says.

"I had other season plans, Xisuma!" Joe says.

"Hey, does that make me a sheep in wolf's clothing that's also a wolf that turns into a sheep that turns into a wolf? If so, neat," Zedaph says.

"Do you know how annoying it will be to get a werewolf puppet?" Joe says.

"Gosh, I absolutely have to bite Iskall now," Stress says.

Xisuma, for a moment, considers putting a stop to it. If it really is the silly name, the collective, the hats and the howls–if it really is the collective weight of story bearing down on all of them–then really, it's still so early that it would be very easy to stop.

Xisuma considers the competition the rest of the shopping district poses, and how easy it will be to move as a collective when they're also a pack.

Also, he hasn't actually been a wolf before. That's one mob he hasn't done!

"You should bite Iskall. I want to know what it does," Xisuma says, deciding that he's quite bored with being responsible and that if someone wants to stop it, it will have to be not him. "But, er, first, in the meantime, do you think he or Doc is better to ask for a helmet that'll grow to fit my muzzle instead of nearly trapping my skull?"

"Hm," Stress says. "Well, Iskall is pretty good at head electronics."

"Yeah, but Doc is a better choice for abominations against nature!" Joe says.

"What about me? I like abominations," Zedaph says.

"It's okay, Zedaph, it's just you don't make many helmets, is all," Xisuma says. "We'll run around being abominations of nature, gosh, most full moons together. Is that good enough?"

"Fine," Zedaph says. "I'm bringing the snacks. I have sheep, and I've always wanted to try cannibalism."

"I guess werewolves wouldn't have to worry about prions," Joe says, nodding.

"Well, if you're going to get Doc, I'm going to go bite Iskall. I know I don't got fangs right now but it'll be very funny either way," Stress says.

"Have fun!" Xisuma says, and even though he's still red, and no one has pants but Zedaph, and he feels vaguely sick without his helmet, he also feels something close to pure delight. Gosh. Werewolves, huh? What a concept, having a little pack. He'll have to make the most of it; they've already seen his face anyway, and not one of them have commented or looked him in the eyes. Clearly, it won't matter so much if Doc takes a while with the helmet.

[i-heart-yellowstone]

1 - Lot Happens in Ten Years

Part 2

Raised Fair Share Of Hell

I’m not sure all of the chapters will be this long but here’s the first part. If you have any questions my ask is open for them

Tag list - send an ask to be added @bvbwestfall @hcwthewestwaswcn @child-of-of-the-sunshine @elenavampire21 @keep-the-wolves-close

“This is Kayce, leave a message and I’ll try to get back with ya.” I dialed his phone number but it went straight to voicemail so I put my phone in the cup holder. I put my attention back on the road in front of me with the rain hitting the windshield as the sun was setting on the land.

Tapping on the call button I dialed him again, getting a voicemail where I sighed deciding to leave him a voicemail and he’d call me back later. “Hey Kace, I’ve tried callin’ you a couple times but you haven’t called me back. I just really need to talk to you about something - I uh - went to the baby doctor today. I won’t get into the details on a voicemail - but I just need you to call me.”

Kayce and I had been in each other's life since we were five years old. It wasn’t too hard when we finally started dating at our eighth grade prom. Although the sheriff when we were in high school ain’t too fond of us when we would throw parties at my families ranch and we would get in trouble when Kayce’s dad came over to pick up his kid. Only to find that we had snuck alcohol out of the basement. That only turned into a few more charges giving us the nickname of “Montana’s Bonnie and Clyde”.

My phone started vibrating and I saw Kayce’s name pop up on the screen so I immediately hit answer. “Kayce?”

“Hey Lissa Rae, I’m sorry I missed your calls. I’ve just been dealing with Monica.” He responded through the phone. “The one that I hooked up with at Kelsea’s party a few months ago.”

I gripped the steering wheel in my hands. “Oh believe I remember.”

“Look, I know what you’re thinking. But there’s nothing going on between us - or at least there wasn’t supposed to be.”

Knitting my brows together in confusion. “Kayce, where are you at right now?”

“Monica’s house.”

I slammed my foot down on the brakes and nearly threw my phone through the windshield. “Kayce John Dutton! I have something really big to tell you and I don’t want to have to be around the girl who nearly destroyed our relationship when she came to brag to me about sleeping with you a few days later.”

“Alissa, please believe me when I say I would never destroy what we have to be with her. There’s just something I have to take care of with her.”

Brushing some hair out of my face I leaned back against the seat headrest. “Kayce, just come out and say what you need to talk with her about.”

“I think it’s just easier if she tells you herself.” He responded.

Sliding a hand down my face I quickly tried to think of what could be going on between them. But I kept drawing a blank so I had to just go see it for myself in person. “I’m coming to your location.” I turned the truck back onto the road nearly speeding to her house address that he had texted me.

Slamming the truck door closed when I got out I stomped up the porch stairs, banging on the front door where it was opened by the very girl I wanted to punch. “Alissa - Kayce said you were coming by.”

“Where the hell is Kayce?” I snapped at her pushing my way past her and she gently shut the door.

“In the kitchen. Can I get you something to drink?”

I ignored her question entering the kitchen seeing my best friend sitting at her kitchen table avoiding my gaze when I came in. “I’m here. So what is happening that I needed to see in person?”

“I didn’t think it would happen.” He ran a hand over his mouth not answering the question.

Monica stepped into the room we were in, reaching inside her pocket taking out a tiny white stick. “I’m going to try and keep it if he agrees to help me.” I took it from her hands finally realizing it was a pregnancy test.

“You gotta be kidding me. Kayce, you aren’t thinking about it are you?”

He ran his fingers through his messy brown curls. “I just didn’t know how to tell you. I don’t want us to break up but I know this isn’t the life you wanted. Especially when your dad doesn’t really like me at the moment.”

“My daddy ain’t probably let you ever step foot on our front porch now either.” I clutched the pregnancy test in my hands.

Kayce lifted his head up, soft brown doe eyes meeting my gaze. “Alissa, what’s wrong?”

“I don’t want to talk about it with her in the room.” I spun around in my boots running out the front door out onto the front porch and to my surprise the front door creaked open and closed shut before I felt his arm touch my shoulder.

“Alissa, hey talk to me. What’s happening, what has you so upset?”

I stared out at the empty scenery in front of us. “Are you going to choose her now that she’s keeping the baby?”

“No! I mean yes she’s pregnant but she was more drunk than I was that night. And besides it’s her choice on what she does with her body and the baby. But I don’t get it. What does that have to do with us?”

Spinning around to face him I began sobbing heavy tears, reaching into my jacket taking out a picture the doctor gave me. I had been getting sick for almost two months before my mother took me to the doctor and we found out why. But I hadn’t told my father yet - or the father yet until now. “I went to a doctor today when my momma thought I had gotten really sick from a cold and we found something out.”

“What is this, Lissa?” He takes the printed out picture from my hand scanning it over.

I wrapped my arms around my body leaning against the fence still letting some tears fall down my face. “The night we first slept together apparently put a baby in me easier than we thought it would be.”

“You’re pregnant.” Kayce finally put the pieces together.

I nodded my head slowly yes, scared for his reaction. “We’re pregnant, Kace.”

He didn’t say a word for a very long time making the nerves in the pit of my stomach grow bigger with every passing second. I didn’t want to pressure him to be a part of the kids' life but I knew it would be hard if I kept it. Regardless of the reassurance my mother gave me at the hospital. “We’re gonna have a baby.”

“Yes and I understand if Monica’s pregnancy was enough of a scare. Then I can figure out what I’m going to do on my own.” I gulped feeling the nervousness getting the better of me. I did my best to run around the young Dutton and head down the stairs to leave. “I should go. I’ll see ya later Kayce.”

He spun around grabbing my wrist quickly twirling me around so I was facing him. “Woah there. You don’t have to go through this alone.”

“Oh yeah right. Because I bet you are just overjoyed to be a teen dad.” I sent him a snarky remark. His father and mine could likely agree that us as teen parents wouldn’t work out in the long run.

Kayce gently held onto my shoulders looking down at me since I was just barely shorter compared to the height he was. “I’m not gonna lie and say I’m not scared of this but I am happy to be with you. And I’ll be happy when we have this baby together.”

“Awe Kayce…” I sniffed through tears burying my face into his shirt and he wrapped his arms around my body holding me close. I wrapped my fingers around the fabric of his jacket crying happy tears into his chest.

Footsteps came out onto the porch where we separated from each other slightly seeing Monica scowling at us. “So you’re picking the ranching Lambert girl over me now.”

“I’m dating her, Monica.” He responded to her.

I glared at her. “He can choose whatever he wants to do. Just like we can choose to keep the babies we’re having.”

“She has a family that can help her. I live on the Resveration so we don’t have everything you do.” She crossed her arms over her chest.

Kayce draped an arm over my shoulder and I laid my head against his chest before he began planning a way out of this situation before it got more intense. “Monica, look I’m choosing Alissa. But I am willing to help you out if you’ll let me. What do you think about that?”

“I suppose so.” She swayed from side to side.

I stared at her silently for a few minutes. “Maybe one day we’ll look back on this moment and laugh. And who knows we might just be able to work this out as a team.” She didn’t say anything yet I felt Kayce’s comforting hand intertwining down with mine telling me no matter what she did we would make it through this.

10 years later

Sliding my muddy brown work boots I rose to my feet looking at myself in the mirror while I finished twisting the end of my braid together. My eyes scanned over the rack with hats and jackets inside of our bedroom near the door. A familiar dark tan hat hung above my brown jacket. I heard a patter of footsteps run down the hallway and stop outside the door. “Little Rae, what are you doing up this early?”

“Couldn’t sleep when daddy promised he’d take me on a ride.” Her innocent voice replied back.

I snatched my hat from the hook and opened the door seeing my soon to be ten year old daughter standing in the doorway. “Well I think we will have to go find your daddy cause he’s already started work for the day.” His side of the bed covers was tossed over and I didn’t see his familiar black Cowboy hat in the bedroom.

My nine year old daughter stuck her tongue out. “But he said he would and he never breaks a pinky promise.”

“Don’t worry, Faith. I’m sure he just was expecting you to still be sleeping. Your little butt doesn’t normally wake at six in the morning.” I bent down picking her up in my arms and made our way down the wooden stairs of the Dutton house.

She laid her down in the crook of my neck. “Pinky promises are important, mommy.”

“Believe me I know.” I answered in agreement looking down at her in my arms. Her blonde hair was tied up in a messy braid that resembles a younger me. Yet her eyes always show me a younger version of her father. We had finally made it out of the house and onto the porch seeing John was saddling up his horse for the morning ride where I walked over to him. “Morning John, have you seen Kayce?”

He shakes his head no opening his arms for his granddaughter. “No I haven’t. Come here Faithy Rae and give grandpa a hug.” She ran forward once I sat her feet on the dirt ground embracing him.

“Oh I think I see him but why’s he in his truck?” I heard the sound of a truck pulling in down our long driveway of the ranch recognizing Kayce’s truck that parked directly in front of the house.

The driver and passager doors were open and closed before I saw some black hair blowing in the wind and a set of small feet behind whoever it was till I saw who it was. “Hey baby.” Kayce walked up to me with Monica and her son Tate followed.

“Don’t hey baby me, Dutton.” I snapped at him crossing my arms over my chest. “What are they doing here?”

Kayce dropped the half smile he had on his face, rubbing the back of his neck and shifted his gaze over to his father. “He asked to know his other grandkid.” I glanced over my shoulder with John and our daughter looking at our interaction.

I certainly still wasn’t used to this situation that was created ten years ago.

Comments really appreciated ❤️

[bluewhale52]

Dopegirl.com

Summary: Someone is a big fan of Cypher Pt. 2

Pairing: Yoongi x camgirl

Rating: Mature, NSFW. No minors allowed.

Genre: idol!au, camgirl!au

WC: 1.7k

Warning: OC is a camgirl, voyeurism, masturbating (f and m), use of a toy, cursing

Playlist: Cypher Pt. 2 (obviously)

A/N: I dont’ know where this comes from, all I know is that Cypher Pt.2 just brings out the inner hoe in me. Also this is my submission to @btscreatorscorner summer games (Song challenge).

“Joon, what did you send me?”

Namjoon looks up from his phone and grins. “Just check it out, Hyung.”

Yoongi looks suspiciously at his phone. “This isn’t one of your questionable links, is it? Do I need to back my phone up before I click it?”

“Geez, Hyung, that was just one time and it was years ago.”

Yoongi narrows his eyes. “Just making sure.”

“Oh,” Namjoon suddenly remembers, “I suggest you put on your headphones when you, um, enjoy it.”

“Now I’m really worried.” Yoongi sighs.

@

Yoongi plops down on his bed. He should be tired after practice and rehearsal, however the adrenaline is still high and he finds himself unable to sleep. He grabs his phone and starts mindlessly looking at cooking videos. Normally it makes him sleepy but tonight, he is feeling especially restless.

Then he remembers the link Namjoon sent him earlier.

He opens the message and for the first time, he reads the URL.

www.dopegirl.com

He tilts his head; there is an odd familiarity about the name.

“What the hell,” he mumbles, tapping the link.

A browser window immediately opens and he is taken to your page. It’s just a dark blank page, but for an embedded video screen in the middle. He scrolls up and down, finding no information whatsoever about the page. How mysterious. He really hopes Namjoon isn’t trying to infect his phone with viruses.

Yoongi’s eyes move to the video. It’s dark, but for the luminous play icon in the middle, taunting him. A thought briefly crosses his mind, to close the browser and go to sleep, but he is in too deep now. His curiosity is piqued, he knows he cannot not find out what the video is all about.

He presses play.

Static fills the screen, and slowly a music beat starts, echoing in the background. Yoongi immediately recognises it as the opening beat for Cypher Pt.2.

The moment J-Hope’s verse comes on, the static disappears to reveal you, naked on a plain bed. The camera angle is such that your face is not visible; only your legs and the part in between, and the peaks of your nipples are in view.

우린 일곱 마리 늑대, 함성이란 양들을 몰이 We’re seven wolves, herding the sheep that are the applause

지금부터 보이는 고장 난 랩들 견인해가지 We tow away the broken raps we see from now

우린 계속 진격, 비트 위의 거인 We keep advancing, a giant on the beat

You are writhing along to Hoseok’s voice, your hands travelling up and down your body, before resting on top of your nipples, plucking them. A particular hard tug elicits a moan that Yoongi hears loud and clear amidst the rap. One of your hands reaches out of sight, only to return with a vibrator. Yoongi is hypnotised.

난 랩 와이퍼, 완전 싸이코 I’m rap wiper, a total psycho

내가 다이서라면 임마 난 다이스 다 있어 If I were a dicer, hey, I would have all the dice

Your legs open up right on time with RM’s first words. Both your hands reach down, one to part your folds, the other to place the toy on your sex. Your body jerks up at the first contact, your gasp loud enough to mingle erotically with Namjoon’s rough voice.

히히하하 뛰뛰빵빵 시속 300 나가

Heeheehaha beep beep, I go at the speed of 300km/hr

Your back arches as you run the vibrator along your slit. Your legs keep parting wider and wider, as your moans get louder. Yoongi gulps. He has gotten hard and he cannot resist anymore. Keeping his eyes glued on his phone, he shuffles to pull down his pyjama pants, freeing his erection. He wraps his fingers around it as you insert the tip of your vibrator in.

“Fuck,” he groans, at the same time as you whine at the breach.

You start to pleasure yourself with the toy, your legs in an erotic V for your viewers’ vouyeristic enjoyment. As RM’s rap picks up, so does your hand, and Yoongi strokes himself faster, keeping in rhythm with the pace of your wrist.

I’m da king, I’m the god so where ma emperors at?

I parachute on my Neverland,

I’mma peter pan, so this will never end

You know when I ride on my G5 you sit first class and satisfy and I keep giggling

You plunge the vibrator in, your body jerks almost violently, your other hand gripping your thighs so tight your fingernails leave marks. Your hand then freezes, leaving your sex pulsating around the toy, squeezing out your juices down to the sheet underneath you.

Yoongi has to stop stroking, he has subconsciously decided he will only orgasm along with you. He squeezes the base of his shaft, half smirking when you pull out your toy and your body shudders at the edging you give yourself. He imagines you are breathing heavily, your breasts heaving beyond your shaking legs.

누구 때문에? 제이홉 때문에 Because of whom? Because of j-hope

누구 때문에? 랩몬 때문에 Because of whom? Because of Rap Mon

다시 누구 때문에? 슈가 때문에 Again, because of whom? Because of SUGA

우리 셋이 모여서 새 시대를 외쳐 Three of us, gathered, shout the new generation

Yoongi’s part is next, and you are so whiny now, your lusty moans sound more desperate. He somehow knows you have been working yourself to his verse. There is a sick sense of pride blooming in him that you are pleasuring yourself to a song he co-wrote.

Your free hand releases your thigh, the marks your nail leaves on your flesh are so red and raw he cannot take his eyes off of them. He is gripping his phone tightly, his veins blue against his pale skin. His breath catches when he hears a whisper from you the moment his own verse starts.

Did you just moan his name?

Yoongi suddenly remembers Namjoon’s advice. He pauses the video then scrambles to get his AirPods from his desk, then he kicks off his pyjamas pants completely. He has half a mind to ensure the Bluetooth is connected properly, before he turns the volume all the way up. Sitting back on his bed, with his fingers back around his shaft, he rewinds the video and presses play.

내 도메인 dopeman.com My domain is dopeman.com

마이크로 여럿 혼냈지 I scolded many with my mic

언행은 족쇄 같어 Your speech and actions are like shackles

내 죄명은 혀로 폭행 The name of my charge is “assault with tongue”

“Fuck,’ he breathes out as he throws his head back against the headboard. He did not hear wrongly, you did moan out his name. It was such a soft whisper, but so sensual that it burns his body even more. He feels his climax coming again, and gritting his teeth, he holds it at bay. He forces himself to slow down and levels his breathing.

The vibrator returns to assault you. You shove it right in and Yoongi swears he hears a squelching sound when you do so. He has never been so envious and jealous of an inanimate object. You continue to pump yourself, your pace matching Suga’s flow and rhythm in the track.

Yoongi licks his lips. He does not miss the way your thighs fell sideways to open yourself up to your viewers. He does not miss the little shakes that jiggle your flesh. He definitely does not miss how your moans getting louder by the second, and how he wishes you would say his name again.

니 여친도 홀리는 내 목소린 좀 꼴림 My voice, which bewitches even your girlfriend, gets them horny

There it is, Yoongi gets his wish. You WHINE out his name, and he groans, wanting to close his eyes to fantasize himself being there, replacing that vibrator with his own shaft. Fuck, he’d even please you on camera if that was what it would take. But he forces his eyes open, focusing on your ministrations you are doing to your own body and the carnal sounds coming out of your sweet mouth.

Your hand is moving faster pumping that stupid toy into you. He knows it, he can feel it, you are working to get to your release at the same time as his rap climaxes. He pants, the anticipation builds more and more pressure in his sack.

내가 어디까지 가나 봐라 Watch how far I go

썩은 뿌릴 싹 다 갈아엎어 I plow the rotten roots out completely

“Aaah, Yoongi!”

Fuck, fuck, you sound so fucking whiny, calling him like that. 

“Cum for me, come on,” he eggs you on. It is getting to the best part, the part where ARMY cheers the loudest and his brothers hype him the most on stage. Now it is also the part where you are going to reach your ecstasy, because of his rap, and his name your only chant of lustful bliss. Fuck.

“Yoongi! Yoongi!” Your other hand goes to rub your sensitive button viciously as you wail his name over and over,

“That’s it, cum for me, cum.” He orders you with a firm voice, but his hand is shaky. He is stroking himself fast and hard, the liquid leaking out from his tip providing the lubricant and he pretends it was your juices instead.

아껴 쓰고 나눠 쓴 flow를 받아쓰고 또 그걸 다시 쓰는 너 You, who uses someone else’s the flow that was used frugally and shared and yet again reuses it

hey beat 쪽 팔린 줄 알어 너 Hey bitches, you should know your shame

Your shriek fills his ears as you finally tip over. Your hand that is holding the vibrator stops pumping, but Yoongi is certain your inner walls are pulsating wildly around the toy. Your body convulses, your legs kick out a few times, and it is at the loudest and final scream of his own name that Yoongi finally lets go.

He does not know how, but he keeps his eyes open and on you as white liquid spurts and stains his tshirt. He pants as he watches your hands crumple to your sides, and your legs shudder. And your toy, shiny and slick from your fluids, rolls off to the end of the bed. He can hear you breathing shakily, recovering from the short but intense orgasm. He tugs himself, squeezing out his own release to the last drop. The song is drawing to the end.

난 니 음악의 커리어 동맥에 마침표를 그어 I draw the period onto the artery of your music career

“Fuck, Yoongi.” You breathe out, followed by a sweet chuckle, making it Yoongi’s turn to whine.

Then the video goes back to black.

@

Thank you so much for reading!! Did you enjoy it? If so, please reblog! Reblogs would bring this fic to a wider audience and it would mean the world to me!

💜💜💜💜💜💜💜

Song translation from doolsetbangtan.  Published on 25062021.

the SEQUEL is finally here >> dopegirl.com/theauction

[sweater-daddiesdumbdork]

Attack Of The Winter Wolf: It Can Be Fixed

Summary- 8.9k Alpha Steve x Little One Reader. Packs are being destroyed and Alphas taken. The danger is hovering closer, its just a matter of time till it falls on Steve’s doorstep. For now he is enjoying his life as a Bonded Alpha, making the most out what peace he has found with his Little One. Divider made by @firefly-graphics​

Warnings- Weapons, mass murder, language, m/f sex. 

A/N- Hey everyone, thank you for sticking with me through this and THANK YOU for all the support shown. I hope you all enjoy this next section in the Alpha’s life. Happy Howling 🐺💙

Prologue / Masterlist

“You know what you need to do.” The Hydra Agent now known as Soldat snarled at the smaller woman next to him. Her eyes flashed red while never moving off the target in the bar, her fingers swirling beside her, wisps of red energy dancing between her fingers. She pursued her dark red lips, as she focused on the man slouching against the bar. 

Her target. This would be easy, she might not even have to put a compulsion on him to trust her. She thought to herself studying him. A weak wolf drowning his meaningless misery, seducing him wouldn't be an issue. 

“Attract the target, have him bring all of us onto his pack lands without the Alpha being alarmed. I have my orders.” 

Soldat growled in response, turning away to go back to the truck to wait for the woman known as Wanda to carry out her mission. Now she was nothing more than a mindless Hydra Agent to be told her orders, Wanda nothing more than a memory for the woman now. 

On her neck, she adorned a thin chain, tight against her throat. All of them did, someone would have to really look to even notice the restraints. Those chains were powerful, controlled magic from Hydra. Touched with a power no Wolf should possess. Inside they were trapped, Wolf and Person, unable to break loose from the mind control forced on them. Wanda lifted her fingers to trace the collar, the vibrations coming from it barely felt, but reassuring to the controlled hostage. Hydra had full control. 

Wanda readjusted her low cut blouse, smoothing her hands over her leather skirt, and entered the bar. Her boots clicked on the old hardwood floor of the building, the air was filled with stale nicotine, made her over sensitive nose curl in distaste, and a jukebox wailed some rendition of Ac/Dc Back in Black. When she passed, men looked her way, momentarily distracted by the vision they saw, something personal for each, the woman of their dreams. 

But the Scarlet Witch ignored them, there was only one man she was focused on, one Wolf she needed to ensnare. And luckily for her, he happened to catch sight of her just then, half sputtering in his bottle. 

The Wolf she was now had growled deeply in satisfaction, streamlined as the beast crouched in her mind, hunting him just as much as Wanda was right now. The Witch ignored her corrupted beast aching to kill. Instead she sidled up to him, taking his bottle and pressing it to her lips all while watching him as she drank his last few swallows. 

His nostrils flared to scent her, trying to figure her out. He was swarmed with the heavy scent of arousal, a female in heat and it made the Wolf in him lick his muzzle in interest. She shook her head lightly to let her hair fall away from her shoulder, the length of her neck flashing so he could really have his senses assaulted. He would smell everything he desired, in this case his Wolf started howling for the scent of hot sex and whiskey. Another deep inhale and his eyes snapped open, simmering a yellow as his beast reared its head for control. Wanda smirked as she set the bottle down. 

“Looks like I owe you a drink.” She said with such an innocence, and he smirked, clearly ready to play the game. 

“That you do Babe, but what kind of man would I be if I made the woman pay?” He dug out his wallet and put some cash down. “Another two beers please. What's your name? Mine is Tommy.”

Wanda let her hands wander to his arm resting on the bar, her nails softly trailing down the top of his arm to his wrist and back up. “Wanda.”  

Once they were alone, he turned his stool to face her, giving his full attention to Wanda, looking her up and down once while rubbing his hands against his spread jean clad thighs. “So Wanda, what brings you in a place like this?” 

“Just going through town.” Wanda stepped in closer, between his thighs, and slid her hand up behind his neck, letting her fingers dance in a sensual way, planting images of their bodies colliding, grinding, him laying a claim on her. “A few friends and I were looking for a place to stay. I came in, hoping someone would have a suggestion.” 

He shook his head a bit, reaching for the bottle just dropped off and took a drag off it, hoping it would calm him down, cool the eager snapping Wolf in his mind and the semi hard on in his jeans. 

“There ain't much as far as motels in town, but how many people you got that need a place to stay sweetheart?” Now Tommy’s hand drifted to Wanda's waist, letting himself get familiar with how she felt, the images still sweltering in his mind of mindless sex. Wanda let her hand curl onto his shoulder, biting her lip while whispering just before his lips. “Not many, three men.” 

“Three men?” He pulled back a bit, a look of uncertainty at bringing competition for him onto pack lands. “I really only have space for you Sweetheart.” 

Wanda let her lips press against his, drawing him to lean into her a bit before pulling back, whimpering just soft enough for his Wolf to want to change his answer, pushing for the man to give in. 

<Invite them all.>

The Alpha will be pissed if I bring four Wolves onto our lands. 

“Well, okay. I will tell my brother and friend’s that we will have to go to the next town.” She went to pull away when his hand shot out, grasping Wanda's wrist. 

<She’s ours, she wants us. Wants to be our mate, you can’t let her go. Besides, one of those males is her brother.> The Wolf snarled and Tommy’s fingers flexed around her slender wrist. 

“Now hold on Sweetheart, maybe… maybe we can figure something out.” He pulled her back to him, and let his hold lay claim on her ass, arching her into him. 

“Come home with me, and your friends, they can stay in my camper out back. There's plenty of space for them in there, I got it hooked up so they can do what they need to.” 

Wanda gave a quirk of a grin and lapped her tongue over his lips as his reward. “Deal, lead the way? We will follow.” Without another thought, her victim yanked out some crumbled bills from his wallet, and led them out the door. Sealing his fate.

Bouncing down a dirt road, Soldat was going through his gear, handing stuff off to Wanda and Pietro. Clint followed the tail lights closely, making the turns when necessary. 

“Pietro, as soon as we're in the clear of any alarm, shift and start flushing people out of their homes.” Soldat picked up a wickedly lethal blade and fitted it into the holster. “Wanda, you mind fuck as many as you can. And NO ONE FUCKING TOUCH THE ALPHA. They want the Alpha back all intact. Clint, see if you can't secure another means of transportation.” Grabbing a face mask, he fitted it over his face, and went silent, turning to watch out the windshield as they approached, done giving orders. Tommy waved the van through and directed them up to a house nearby, jumping out. 

“So uh, Wanda, I will show you where you will be staying.” He said, as she slipped out, and the back of the van opened to let out Pietro and Soldat, suddenly he started to look worried. “These are your friends and brother?” 

“Oh only one of them is my brother.” Wanda said with a smile as Soldat reached for his blade and flung it to land in the unsuspecting wolfs chest. “And it's not him.” Clint got out to, scanning up in the trees. 

“Get up high Clint. Any stragglers break for the trees, end them.” With a nod, the archer broke away and went into the trees. “Pietro, start flushing people out.” Soldat started instructing as he reached to grab his blade from the man's chest and wiped it on his shirt till it gleamed again.

Pietro nodded, as he shed his clothes, dropping quickly into a sleek silver wolf, his speed almost making him a blur in the dark as he raced forward, starting his howls. They were sharp and dangerous, warning the pack. Several members stepped out of their homes, clearly having been asleep in the state of their dress when Soldat held up his sniper rifle and started to pick people off, Wanda following along, slamming demands in each of their minds thanks to her powers. 

GIVE US THE ALPHA. 

Her warnings started crippling families in agony, screaming as the pressed hands against their heads at her mental onslaught. Wanda twisted her hands in the air, snapping open fingers into fists, and people started shifting, their wolves released to scream their pain she inflicted on them instead. Soon the night was filled with horror. Those that managed to escape the trio working through their homes were met with piercing cool blades flying from somewhere in the trees. 

Soldat was almost lazy walking along this pack's compound, some memory started to stir in his mind, reminding him of another compound, sunlight shifting through the trees to dapple along a dirt road, a man’s laughter behind him from someone. “Buck, wait up!” Ahead was a sparkling lake and he glanced over his shoulder to see someone running towards him from a distance. He shook his head to dispel these memories. 

The White Wolf paced the edges of his consciousness. <Follow your orders Soldat.> 

The memory was hazy, and it slipped away from him once more. He snapped his head again to focus on the task at hand. 

Back to the present, moonlight was shining bright and highlighting bodies scattered around. Except for one, a woman bolting out of hiding trying to get away from him. Lazily he swung his rifle up and sighted her in, his finger slowly easing against the trigger. For him it was all slow motion, the woman pitched forward with a cry as she fell forward in his path, and he stepped over her as she bled out. Soldat growled in irritation as the Alpha still hadn’t made themselves known. 

“Alpha, are you okay with sacrificing your people?” Wanda came up beside him, panting slightly with exertion of the use of her powers, listening. A pained howl came from a nearby home, Pietro pacing around it waiting for the occupants to come out. The door creaked open, and out stumbled a woman, a flare of Soldat’s nose told him exactly what he wanted to know, the Winter Wolf growling in a menacing way at the approaching victim. Finally the packs Alpha was surrendering. She was flanked by a nipping Pietro to speed her jog up, blood streaming down the back of her calves from where she didn’t move fast enough. 

“Stop, what do you people want? We have done nothing wrong to the council to warrant a removal like this.” Her eyes were wild as she looked at her packmates, the smell of blood and death so heavy, she heaved a gag.

Wanda looked her up and down, arching a brow. “She's an Alpha? Doesn’t look much like one.” 

Soldat’s hand wrapped around the woman's neck, dragging her forward, and inhaling along her face, the tip of his nose dragging up from her chin to her temple, sorting her scent to be sure. A shuddering gasp fell from her, laced with fear. It made Soldat smirk behind the mask. The acrid scent of fear was something he was accustomed to. Beyond the fear though, she was the prime scent of health. This Alpha did not lead her pack on force and strength, but respect and knowledge. He could imagine the battle she was going through with her wolf right now, the conflict to shift showing in her eyes, fear sweat rolling down her temple. 

“Where's your mate?” Soldat growled and gave her a slight shake when she sobbed. 

“G-gone! She's gone. Visiting her old pack across the country. She won't be back for another month.” 

Inhaling again, Soldat sneered, his voice laced with it. “You lie girl. Your efforts to keep her safe, pointless. I can smell her all over you, fresh.” He hissed in her ear and turned to the twins. “Find her. She won’t be far.” They nodded, wolf and sister splitting off towards the Alphas house and she tensed in Soldats grip, starting to fight to break out of his hold. 

“What do you want?! Who are you?” she was gulping in air, possibly scenting him, trying to figure out where he came from. Soldats hard eyes went over her once, and did not find her worth answering. Instead his grip tightened around her neck and he whipped her around, her back slamming into his chest and making her gasp in loss of air. 

“They are close.” he reached up, taking off the mask and stuffing it away. Her whimpers made his teeth snap at her neck, she might be Alpha of this pack, but she had nothing on him. The Winter Wolf paced, fur bristling as Soldat eyed her steady pulse, resisting the urge to rip at the throbbing vein, killing the Alpha. But he didn't, he had orders. “Can you smell your mates' fear from here? Cause I can.” Instead his tongue lapped up her neck before he tilted his head. “Or maybe that is yours?” 

A cry from the woods along with snarling made Soldat straighten and the Alpha tense in his hold, soft “no no no no…” uttered from her and a sob in which Soldat snapped his fingers tighter around her neck to shut her up. Her mate stumbled from the woods, continuously trying to break away, but between Wanda and Pietro, they kept her moving forward. Soldat dropped his hold on the Alpha, letting her spring away to run towards her mate, and drag her into her arms, sobbing into her hair. “I told you to run Alicia, I told you to get away from here.” 

“We couldn't, we couldn't just leave you to them Alpha.” Alicia responded, all three of them watching as the Alpha regained her composure a bit, wiping at her face and turned to face Soldat. 

“Anything, whatever you want, it's yours. Just let my mate and the rest of the pack leave unharmed. They won't try anything.” Soldat arched a brow, and reached into a pocket on his tactile vest. 

“Then you will put this on without any trouble.” 

He let a thick silver collar and muzzle fall from his grasp, and the Alpha swallowed hard seeing it. She gave a nod in acceptance and a plea from her mate made the Alpha’s eyes well up with tears, but rounded on her growling at Alicia. “Be quiet, listen to your Mate and Alpha.” Alicia’s begging quieted with a nod, her head bent in submission to her partner. The Alphas hand came up to cup her face in praise, and gave her a soft kiss on her forehead and dipped to her ear, whispering to her for a moment while Alicia’s eyes welled up again and closed as if she was trying to remember the words. Soldat waited patiently, watching this moment between bonded mates without any feelings. All it showed him was a weakness in the Wolves. Their devotion to their mates could always be a weapon he could exploit. 

Soon enough the Alpha turned back to Soldat to strip out of her nightgown, quick to shift into her Wolf. Padding over to him, she sat in front of him and lifted her head to fit the collar and muzzle on. It was all so final with the click, binding the muzzle to the collar, completely in Soldats control now as he hooked a chain to her like a lead, wrapping it around his hand and shortening it. 

“Kill the rest.” Soldat said and the Alpha at the end of a leash started thrashing as much as allowed, growling in fear and rage, her head straining to look over her shoulder while Soldat dragged her away. Helpless while having to  watch Wanda and Pietro round on Alicia, her screams for her Alpha dying out and the smell of her death hit the Alpha. Blood and the sting of fear struck her, and she sank to the ground, losing her trapped mind. Soldat never even noticed her body going limp behind him, and that he was dragging her across the ground while she howled in pain at the severed bond of her now dead mate.  

You were sitting behind the wheel of the pickup, Steve on the other side of the hood poking his head around. “Okay, start her up Little One.” he ordered, and you went to flick the key, listening to the whir whir sound of the engine before it sputtered, choked, and gave a mighty shutter, dying down. Turning the key back to off, you leaned yourself out the window. 

“Steve… You might have to call it. I don't think there's any saving this one.” Opening the door, you slipped out, landing lightly on your toes, and closing the door shut with a squeak. You could see your mate standing at the front, wiping his hands on a rag, staring down at the engine. Not yet in defeat though. If there was anything you knew about the Mountain Packs Alpha, it was that Steve Rogers did not stop till every last thing had been tried. That meant one thing. He was going to take this engine apart piece by piece if he had to. 

You leaned against the side of the truck, looking down in the mess of engine parts, and then back to Steve who spared a glance upwards at you and giving a sigh. “Leave no man behind, or woman in this case. This trucks a girl.” His hand slapped against the side of it affectionately and you snorted, folding your arms over your chest. 

“First of all, it's a truck Alpha…” you started. 

Steve reached up and slammed the hood down, scoffing. “It's her, and her name is Lenore, and she's not just a truck. I have had her since I was 15.”

“Safe to say this is your first girlfriend then?” You giggled as you tapped your fingers teasing along his arm and skimmed your fingers along the back of his neck, while he wiped his rag lovingly against the hood. Little did he know he had a scuff of dirt on the back of his neck, and it was distracting you now. 

Fuck… 

The Little Wolf snickered at your reaction. <See something you like?> 

Sure as hell do, our Alpha looks fucking good like this. 

She yipped in agreement and spun around with excitement. 

You pressed your nose in against his shoulder, inhaling deeply while gently sinking your teeth in against his shoulder. Steve growled softly feeling you press against him and looked over his shoulder with an arched brow. “Nah, but she was around with the first girlfriend, and watch me get her fixed to keep her around with my mate.” He pulled you around, his hands circling your hips and easily lifting you to perch on the edge of the truck's hood, making you giggle, and grasp the front of his shirt to pull him in closer. Steves fingers dug into the curves of your hips and pulled you to the edge of the hood. 

“Your awful confident Alpha.” you wiggled your brows and leaned forward to nip at his lips. “What makes you think you're that good of a mechanic?” 

Steve hummed, his hands slipping under your shirt to dig his fingers into your waist as you wrapped your legs loosely around his hips. “Think you can do better Little One?” he teased back while the tip of your tongue dragged along his bottom lip and he rumbled slightly as you sucked on his bottom lip before pulling back. 

“Give me a wrench, I get Lenore running like brand new.” You exclaimed with a wriggle of your brows, wrapping your arms around his neck and leaning into Steve’s chest. The Alpha laughed, dropping his head to your neck, and rubbing his beard against the column of your neck and kissing over the bonding mark deeply, his tongue tracing the slight scar he had left there that night and letting his teeth sink in enough to make you whimper in a happy way. He tilted back to look at you. 

“Little One, I give you a wrench and she will be like new, back before they even put her all together on the manufactures line.”  

You scowled at him, and playfully pushed him away from you, which resulted in him backing up and stepping back into you, kissing on your neck as you tipped your head back for him so that his lips could skim the column of your neck, his inhales making you drag your teeth along your bottom lip with a whimper. “I'm a little insulted that you think I would tear Lenore apart.” 

Steve lifted his head, and arched his brow at you. “You wouldn’t?” 

“Hell no Alpha, Sams have been teaching me the way around an engine. He said I got the magic touch, and can make them purr.” You stated proudly, and you saw his pupils flare suddenly. You scooted closer and leaned in close to whisper against his lips, your forehead leaning against his. “Is that true Steve, Do I… have the magic touch?” 

Your Little Wolf connected on the Alphas bond, the two wolves teased each other back and forth in your minds. You and Steve started nipping at each other's lips, growling as he had you open your mouth to him, and your hands fisted into his hair at the back of his head, rubbing your chest in against him. Steve inhaled your taste and scent, the way you softened under his touch, allowing him to touch you however, and wherever. Fingers flexed, smudging motor grease against your skin and your hands twisted in his dirty shirt to start tugging it off him, pulling away to drag it over his head. Your hips rolled into meeting his groin and he hissed feeling your core rub against his erection “Yes Little One, You certainly do have the magic touch.”  

His hand snaked up your top and palmed your breast through your bra till you also lost your shirt, the heavy scent of your arousal drenching your panties along with the stinging mechanics grease tainting his senses. It smelled dirty, and Steve was fucking raging from it. 

Wanting to bury his cock in your heat, he pulled back from your embrace and jerked you off the truck's hood twisting you around. Your hands slamming against the hood and Steve grasping the back of your neck to press you against the hood. His thumb feathered back and forth over his mark, your neck arching under his touch. You could feel his hips slotted against yours, and your ass pressed back to grind into his erection. Your ass, firm and soft in those jeans pressing into him made him growl and bite against your shoulder, arching his hips forward to pin you against the grill of the truck. 

You groaned when you felt the sting of Steve’s bite against your shoulder and his weight keeping you in place. Steve lifted his head suddenly hearing you, easing back slightly. “Is this okay? Too much?” You could still feel how hard he was behind you, but his voice was laced with gentleness and concern. You arched your head back and took a deep breath. 

“Steve Rogers, you have me pinned against Lenore, you better fuck me or else.” 

Steve’s concerned look melted with a devious smirk before he moved to suck a spot just behind your ear, his hands slipping to the front of your jeans to snap your button open and wriggle the zipper down. 

“Or else… Fuck Little One, that sounds like a promising threat.” Steve growled against your ear, and he tugged your jeans and panties down around your knees, you lifted a leg to kick your pants off, shifting to the other to get rid of your clothing. His hand flexed against your neck before pulling it away. 

“Might be in your favor Alpha.” You shifted your legs back and forth to spread them, Steve running a finger through your slick and spreading your folds to stroke you a moment, feeling just how ready you were for him. Licking his lips he could almost taste you as he knew intimately just how good you were. 

You panted while your cheek pressed against the truck's cool hood, a contrast to your mate behind you all hot and bothered. “Steve, Fuck. Me.” your voice went muffled as his fingers filled you and you tried to arch in his hold, but he flexed fingers against the back of your neck once more, keeping you still while he took you apart with his fingers. Your velvet walls fluttered around his fingers, and you moaned in pleasure. 

“Is that what you wanted Little One?” His chest pressed against your back, making your breathing shallower, your whines sharper with need. “Your soaking me Omega Girl. I gotta be inside you. Cum for me first.” His hips rutted against you and you shuddered underneath him, slamming your hand sharply against the hood of the car while nodding that you heard him. Your cunt made squelching noises and his fingers scissored you open, he kept uttering for you to let go when you finally did, an explosion of pleasure humming through you while you cried out his name, falling apart around his fingers.

 Steve raised you off the hood and pulled you up against his chest, kissing on your neck hungrily while your orgasm made you whimper, trying to squeeze your thighs closed around his hand. “Good girl Little One, you are so good to me.” He growled against your ear softly before dragging his tongue to mark his scent on you, he let you lower back to the hood of the truck. 

Pulling his hand away from you, he undid his belt and worked his pants open enough to pull out his cock, using his slick covered hand to rub himself. “Hey Little One, are you still with me?” 

You nodded as he wrapped his hands around your hips and shifted your ass to where he wanted it while sliding his cock through your slick folds sure to press against your clit before sliding back closer to filling you. 

“Fuck Steve…” You exhale and he thrust into you, one fluid motion had your cunt swallowing him, pulling him in to feel you gripping him tightly in a way that made the Alpha growl possessively over your form underneath him, his fingers digging in your hips in a bruising way. Your body shook with the effort and his hand smoothed along your side when he arched his hips to grind into you. “Your so fucking good Little One, I can just stay buried in this sweet pussy all day.” 

Pulling back and thrusting to split you open, your chest crushed against the truck's hood, and you wouldn't want to have it any other way while Steve started to rut into you faster, the only thing keeping you in place was Steve's unforgiving hold on your hips and the truck's hard surface. The metal underneath just proved to help Steve punch the air from your lungs. One of his hands slid up your back and moved to grasp your shoulder and pull you back harder, taking angled strokes to make you fall apart around him. 

So pretty you were, sprawled against the hood of his truck, doing your best not to scratch at the paint. You were balancing on your tip toes and starting to plead in a muffled tone “Steve- fuck-oh oh- I need to- ah right there.” 

Steve pulled back on your shoulder, bringing you up to brace against his back, and wrapping his arm across your midriff. Reaching up to cup and squeeze a breast in his palm while biting your shoulder with a growl made you arch in his hold. You were still raised to your tiptoes, and could feel yourself fluttering around his cock, clenching and aching to find that release. 

Aiming for that sweet spot he knew would push you over the edge, his hand covered the front of your mound and rubbed his fingertip in a vigorous circle, making you squirm in his hold. “Don't fight it Little One, you're almost there. Just a little more. You're being so good for your Alpha, taking my cock so good.” He praised and your head fell back against his shoulder, letting him move you now. 

“It feels so good, it hurts.” You whined out while reaching down to where his fingers were rubbing at your clit, you explored further down in your heat, until your fingers found the tender spot where his cock pushed into you, feeling him slide in and out made your belly clench at the sensation. 

“Do you feel how you made just for me Little One?” Steve grunted while kissing the corner of your mouth till you rolled your head to meet him, both of you biting at each other's lips and easing into a deep hungry kiss. 

“Steve, I’m-” You sobbed into his mouth as you fell, and intense pleasure fluttered from your core and spread through your body while your hearing buzzed, and your vision exploded in sparks. He groaned as he rutted into your breaking body, his arms locking around you and his teeth sank into your mark, just making your orgasm explode all over again, tilting your head and crying out in a howl while he filled you with his seed, spreading it through you till he knotted. When he finally stilled with his forehead against your shoulder, you let your head roll forward and took a deep breath to refill your lungs. Your hands dropped to his hands still holding you with a tight grip and let your hands rest over his. Feeling your touch he eased slightly and lifted his head, breathing in against your neck, the expand of his chest with each breath scratched lightly against your back. 

Your eyes lifted and you could see the sweaty imprint on the hood of his truck, and then looked down to see grease and dirt smudged all over your skin and your bra, making you chuckle. Steve lifted his head up, careful how he moved behind you while straightening. “Care to share Little One whats got you laughing?” 

You tilted your head over your shoulder to look back at him while he loosened his hold. “You got me dirty, and then you got me really dirty.” You emphasized, and he looked over your shoulder to see the streaks against your skin. “We also got Lenore dirty.” You nodded towards your imprint against the hood, and then he finally laughed, his shoulders shaking amused. 

“I've never seen Lenore look better Little One.” He muttered while kissing your neck deeply, flexing his hold around you again and you bit your lip giggling while dipping your head back to his shoulder. You two waited till he went soft again and was able to pull out from you. You bent down and picked up scattered clothes to pull them back on while Steve zipped up his jeans and buckled his belt, you grabbed his discarded tee and tossed it to him. While he was picking up the garage with the tools he was using, you happened to check your phone, and noticed a text from Caine. 

“Hey how do you feel about going to see Caine and the rest tomorrow morning? If we leave tonight, we don't have any plans, do we?” You ask after reading Caine’s message asking them if they would come visit. Being a fairly new Alpha, learning how to properly set up a pack was a daunting task, especially to that group and he was leaning heavily on Steve’s guidance in that case here and there. Steve wanting to see the young wolf succeed had allowed the bond to form, which was unusual but not unheard of, especially now that the Wolves were depending so much more on pack relationships. He hesitated a moment, but it had been quiet for months since the last attacks from winter. 

“Let me get cleaned up Little One and we can head out, haven't been over that way in ages, and would love to see the changes he has made to that place.” Steve came over, reading the text while you held your phone up for him to see, and he nuzzled against his mark, nipping the scar on your neck gently. 

You turned in his hold, wrapping your arms around his waist and looking up at him. “Thank you, for making it work Steve.” You said softly to him, hugging him a bit in the process. “They are no longer my pack, but I still have a connection with them.” 

You were the other reason Steve kept himself available to the new pack, he knew that you had survived with these wolves, had faced things no wolf should have to, and it in some way reminded him of his time with the howling commandos. No longer were they “family” but in a way they always would just be that. If any of them contacted him still to this day, he would be there for them, that was what happened when you went into a war with someone. And that is partially how he saw your whole ordeal, it was a fight for your life. As important as you were to him and his wolf, his better half, his partner, there wasn't anything he wouldn't do for you. His hand smoothed along your back and he kissed your forehead. “Always Little One, come on, lets go get ready.”

Once it was established that Sam and Sara would take over while you two were gone, Steve filled up the pickup while you packed a bag for the two of you and were on the road soon enough. Steve easily drove through the night while you either kept him company talking, once in a while falling asleep with your head on his shoulder, snuggling against his side while he would hug you in closer whenever he felt a slight chill run through you. Your wolves remained twined around each other with the bond you now shared, and Steve loved feeling traces of your wolf in his mind. 

He thought of a time before you, when the sensation made him cringe. Your wolf fit there, was a warmth that his own Alpha settled into easily, no longer a pacing beast in his mind. Alanna’s wolf was so much more different, the hair on the back of his neck would raise, and the Alphas' own hackles would bristle. The bond they shared was sick from the start, the she wolf would be looking for a fight with the Alpha, who was more then willing to return the favor. There were no playful teasing or quiet grooming moments that the Alpha shared with the Little One. 

Steve did back then what he thought was right, trying to make it work when he had impulsively bitten Alanna, but now he could see how wrong it was. What people like Bucky and Natasha had tried pointing out to him for the years he forced it to work. That it could be better. How it could be what he had now. You softly sighing against his shoulder while you two went to help another pack, not fight against them. 

As the sun started to rise, Steve couldn't help compare it to his new chapter in his life, stepping from the darkness of his past into the bright promising start of a new one. One he looked forward to. 

<It will one day be even better Steve.> The Alpha commented as he groomed the sleeping Little Wolf, nibbling along her neck and shoulders before his pink tongue ran over her fur till it was soft and fluffy. 

I don’t know how it can get better, our life is finally calmed down, my mate is settled and happy in her life, and our Pack is strong. 

The Alpha just continued his gentle grooming for a few moments before he moved up to stretch, his tail giving a slight wag at the next words he said. 

<One day she might have children, and you will get to have that family you always craved.> 

If it happens, it happens. 

The Alpha wasn't wrong, Steve did always want a family. Some part was the connection that Wolves always had, packs were nothing more then large family units surviving. But there was more, Steve wanted to give that love to another, and he could see you already, fiercely protective over any children. 

The idea of you pregnant stirred some primal things in him, more primal then even the Wolf itself. It was a part of him that wanted it more than anything. But the time would come, where you two would really sit down and discuss it. Feeling you stir under his arm, he was pulled from his thoughts and glanced down. “Morning Little One.” he chuckled watching as you groaned while pushing to sit up more, rubbing at your eyes. 

“Ooh, sorry I fell asleep, what time it is Steve, are we almost there?” Your hands rubbed against your face, and you blinked rapidly against the bright light of the new morning sun. 

“7 AM, and we're a few miles out still. You want to stop for some breakfast first? I know we will be passing a diner here shortly.” He offered and you perked immediately hearing that. 

“God that sounds amazing.” You hummed just as your stomach made the loudest grumble noise, making you both bust out laughing, and Steve stepped on the gas a bit more to make the truck pick up speed. 

The diner was one of those little country diners you see in small towns. Along the wall were booths with the little quarter jukeboxes, and in the middle was a long counter scattered with displays of pies and pastries every few stools. When you and Steve first entered, you were first hit with the smell of diner coffee, which you tilted your nose up appreciatively to inhale the aroma, while Steve wrapped an arm around your waist to lead you to a nearby booth. You slipped in first, and Steve just sat next to you, leaving the other side unoccupied. 

“Alright kids, what'll it be.” The waitress came around, an older woman with a tall grey beehive style hair-do, a pencil tucked behind her ear which she plucked her fingers against to use, as well as dug for a pad of paper from her apron. You couldn't help smiling at her, as she was just a sight to see, and Steve himself hid a laugh while he filled in with what he wanted. “Eggs, sunny side up, with toast, bacon and sausage. Coffee, black and a side of orange juice.” She was quick to jot it all down, and paused her rapid writing. “And for you sweetheart?” her accent took on a sweet tone, and you filled in with what you wanted.

“Short stack blueberry pancakes, some sausage links, and a glass of milk, and coffee?”

 “Sure thing” the waitress was sure to jot it down and leave the two of you alone, Steve’s hand reached under the table and took yours to weave his fingers through yours, giving a light squeeze. It was just a few moments when their waitress came back around with there beverages. 

“Cook will be just a few minutes with your food. But here, we made some extras.” She winked as she left a small basket with piping hot donut holes at your table, leaving you two alone again after thanking her. Steve picked up a cinnamon sugared one to pop in his mouth. Lifting the mug to your lips, you blow on the steaming mug and sip on it while your eyes dart out the window to watch other patrons start to arrive. 

“I've lived here my whole adult life, and never knew what it looked like outside of the pack boundaries. Pierce hardly let us leave.” You mused and Steve slid a hand along your thigh, squeezing reassuringly before you turned towards him with a warm smile on your face. “I'm glad we came, it will be good to see Caine and everyone else again.” 

“He has good makings to be a strong Alpha once he washed the taint Pierce left in this area.” Steve agreed as his arm moved from your thigh to wrap around your shoulder, dipping his head to place a light nuzzle to your temple as you leaned into him. It wasn't long till the waitress was back to drop off the hot plates of breakfast. 

Bites were shared between the two of you, you nipped off the tip of Steve's bacon and you offered an extra syrup drenched bite of pancake, where droplets of sweet syrup caught in his beard which he wiped away with his napkin. Before long plates were being pushed away with groans of being too full, Steve dug for his wallet to leave a nice tip to their waitress as well as the bill and headed out of the little diner. 

Soon you two were pulling off the highway and along a familiar bumpy road leading deep into the forest, away from the town. You cranked down the window the closer you got, the warm spring air was alive with fresh growth, along with the familiar scents of the pack. Steve started to slow down when the road grew rougher, the truck bouncing on its struts as remnants of mud and snow bogged the road down. You were quick to grasp the ‘oh shit’ handle, noticing streaks of shadows running alongside the road, and howls started announcing their arrival. 

It was getting familiar and Steve reached over, sliding his hand with yours to weave his fingers through yours and pull your hand into his lap, his thumb sliding over your knuckle. “You okay Little One?” His gaze tilted towards you, and you smiled at him with a nod. 

Your Little Wolf stirred and moved over to her Alpha, brushing up against him once the other packs scent grew stronger the closer they got, reaffirming that she belonged to him now. He curled around her, pressing his muzzle against her while thumping his tail loudly in approval. 

<It doesn’t even feel like ‘home’ anymore.> The Little Wolf said softly and you hid a smile hearing her, squeezing Steve’s hand back. 

It hasn't been in a while now. It was hard to think it was just about a year, another month and it would have been the first time you met Steve. Bucky allowing you to cross from No Man's Land into the pack boundaries. You could still remember that first time, how Steve went to your level and offered you sanctuary before even actually hearing why you were on the run. And you knew he would do it again with another if the time came. Soon the road curved and you two came up on the all to familiar grey building that had the underground expansion where you were kept. You could hear the Alpha growling softly seeing it, and Steve’s features hardened as he picked up speed driving past it till you two started to come more towards the homes that spread through the grounds. Neither one of you wanted to step foot in there, and did not plan to ever again. 

Caine came trotting out to greet them, and you hopped out to rush around the truck, springing at your former packmate in a hug. Steve took his time, although the Wolf didn't much like it, he waited to give you two a moment before intruding. You weaved yourself back into Steve’s hold, grinning happily. 

“Driving all night I’m guessing?” Caine asked and you shrugged, jerking a thumb at Steve. “He was, I was the co-pilot. In charge of the radio.” 

Steve winked. “And did a good job of it to Little One, you only passed out on me for a couple hours.” He teased while you poked his side a bit for ratting you out and Caine laughed heartily. 

“What I figured, since I messaged you last night. The house at the end is vacant for now if you two wanna rest a bit to settle in.” Caine offered, and Steve was thankful for the offer after the long drive. Steve pulled up the truck to the house while you and Caine strolled to the quaint house, talking about how each respective pack were doing. You noticed his eyes lifted to your neck when you lifted your hair off your neck, and his brows arched. 

“Is that what I think it is Y/N?” the young Alpha asked and your hand pressed against Steve’s mark, nodding. 

“Yes, Steve and I bonded, made it official. It was time to put Pierce and all that behind. It wasn’t natural trying to force us to bond with anyone willing to pay for us.” You stalled a bit, slowing down while watching Steve grab the duffel you had packed from the back of the truck and brought it inside. Caine hummed in agreement, having faced the same ordeal you had. Your Little Wolf stirred in her nearby Alphas' care, feeling your emotions rolling and soon felt her brush along your mind, a calming presence that brought you back to the present. Caine smiled at you, brushing his hand along your back and giving a half hold hug around your shoulder. 

“I’m happy for you Y/N, that you found Steve. I mean… well for us to. If you hadn’t gotten away from Pierce, who knows where we would be now.” Caines gaze flashed to the grey building for a second, the heavy chain strapped against the door to keep it shut. 

“What are you using that for now?” You asked, noticing where his gaze went. Caine continued the two of you forward. 

“Storage, once we cleaned it out. Stark took any of the medical equipment besides the basics we could use for emergencies. All the shit they used on us. After that office was cleaned out, the computers taken, I locked up the underground floors, and we have been using the top as storage for gear and such. Might just seal off that underground and tear that top part down. I don't know honestly. It's like a sickness here still, seeing it. But one day if anything was to happen, it could be useful.” 

It was easy to tell that Caine was unsure of what to do with it, and you nudged him lightly to lighten his heaviness. “You will figure it out.” Glancing up, you could see Steve gathering the last of the overnight stuff from the truck, the door snapping shut. “We will see you later, I'm gonna go get some proper shut eye.” Splitting from Caine, you went inside first and Steve chatted a few moments with Caine before excusing himself. 

Going inside, it wasn’t home, but it wasn't bad. Sparsely furnished with the minimal comforts, he tilted his nose to inhale, searching you out. You had gone through the downstairs while he was outside from what Steve could sense, but he heard your soft footfalls above him, turning him to go up the old stairs to the tiny upstairs. A single bedroom with a double bed and a bathroom graced the upstairs. Dropping the bag on the end of the bed, he glanced over to you unpacking on the other side. 

“Not quite like home.” You observed, while looking around. The bed just about took up the whole bedroom. “But cozy.” 

Steve chuckled as he moved around the bed, wrapping his arms around your hips and pressing his face in against your neck, nibbling while his hips pressed against your curves and his chest to your back. You sunk back into him while refolding one of his shirts, tilting your head to feel his affections with a close of your eyes and a satisfied hum flowing through you. “Yes cozy, you are gonna have to sleep on top of me in this bed.” You chuckled hearing his teasing, the two of you swaying in the early morning light streaming through the window at the head of the bed. 

“That's never been a problem before.” You smirk while feeling Steve laugh softly behind you and you twist to nudge at him. “You're tired, I can feel it. I'm gonna go take a shower, why don't you lay down. We can meet up with Caine this afternoon.” You removed the bag off the bed, and Steve rumbled slightly. 

“Shower? I could join you Little One.” His hands moved to lightly grasp your hips, fingers flexing. You shake your head and turn to face Steve, your hands cupping his face and tilt up to place a kiss on his lips, keeping it simple and affectionate. 

“You were up early yesterday, because I remember your little wake up.” You smirked at his lopsided grin, all proud of himself for his methods. “And up all night bringing us here.” Your hands pressed against his chest, gently pushing him down on the bed and reaching for your shower bag. “So sleep Alpha, we can mess around later.” You nipped his lips and pulled away, while he groaned, tilting his head back to the mattress while you left the room to go down the short hallway to the bathroom at the end. 

“That's teasing Little One.” He growled out as he pushed back to a sit, undoing his belt on his jeans while you called back. 

“Make me pay for it later Alpha, learn to take a command once in a while.” You firmly shut the bathroom door on him and the Wolf laughed hard at Steve’s predicament. 

You were sidelined too. Steve growled out softly although he knew you were right, his body was tired. The heaviness started to make his eyes ache to close. 

<Mmmh, actually no. I can go to my Little Wolf whenever.> The Wolf shook out his fur and padded away from Steve's consciousness, in which the Alpha rolled his eyes at his inner beast and proceeded to strip down to stretch above the comforter. 

It wasn't long till Steve felt the bed dip at the end and you crawled over him, settling down to lay your head on his chest, and his hand smoothed against your back to rest against the dip in your lower back. Your face rubbed against one of his pecs and he half turned to give you some more room on the mattress, your legs tangling with his and the rest of the morning was spent in lazy half sleep snores and readjusting in the smaller bed to get comfortable.

Finally the afternoon sun was just too bright shining down on the two of you, spring softness had picked up more heat and was starting to feel hot in the small bedroom. You groaned and pushed off Steve, who growled feeling you move away while waking up further, his arm slinging over his eyes to block out the light. You quietly get dressed and descend down the stairs to let him wake up in his own time. Going through the kitchen, you grab a glass to fill with water to inhale quickly and parch your thirst. Above you, you can hear the bed creak under Steve’s weight, then the slap of his feet against the hardwood boards above you. You start to go through the house and pry open windows, and the front door you opened wide to let the fresh air in. 

“Mmh, how late is it?” Steve rubbed at his face and you pulled your phone out. 

“3:30, we're gonna be up all night.” You chuckled while checking a message from Sara, complaining that she should have gone with you and Steve, Sam was driving her crazy making you chuckle while answering back. “Sara checked in, said everything is going good at home.”

Steve as well sought out some water, draining the glass with deep gulps, he wiped at his mouth with the back of his arm and nodded. “I’m sure we can find something to do tonight.” He winked in a tease. “Good, how about we go see the rest of the pack?” His hand went through his hair, pushing the longer dark blonde locks back from his face, looking every bit of Alpha that he was. You could have whimpered right then, sure he wasn't even aware of how it made your stomach clench. You were just grateful that the Little Wolf was preoccupied with her mate to be paying attention to your reactions. 

“We better, I’m sure he's forgotten were here.” You move to step out the door, blinking in the bright afternoon sunshine, bouncing off the steps with Steve right behind you. 

“Unlikely, his wolf won't be letting him forget I’m here.” 

[giorno-plays-piano]

Your place Part 2

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Reader (High School AU)

Warnings: yandere, obsession, bullying, degradation, dubcon.

Words: 1776.

Summary: You suffer in the arms of America’s golden boy, the one who has been bullying you for years.

Part 1

P.S. Some more smut, finally! All characters had reached 18 years of age. Hope you’ll enjoy!

______________

"Are you going to come on Saturday?"

Steve moved his hand down your naked belly, watching you laying close to him on your bed and breathing softly. You glanced back at him, his handsome features illuminated by the dim light coming from the lamp on your nightstand.

"Where to?" You asked as he covered the back of your hand with his palm twice bigger than yours.

"The field house. We have a game."

He traced your knuckles with his fingertips and you thought how odd Steve was. Who could have thought the school's biggest bully was such a cuddle-bug after sex? It wasn't bad, though. You actually liked this side of him.

"Sure."

You weren't interested much in basketball or any other sports, but it was easier to come rather then fight Steve again. He was stubborn like a mule. Besides, a part of you felt like you belong there - many of your classmates were coming to see almost every game.

Why did Steve care whether you were there or not? Surely, he had already been showing you off in front of everyone as much as he could as if you were his trophy - now you sat close to him in class and then in cafeteria during lunch time; he was dragging you with him after classes along with his stupid friends. The whole school knew the nature of your relationship, and the first weeks it was making you bitter and hateful. Steve Rogers head fucking forced himself on you, yet instead of sympathy all you got was an enormous amount of jealousy. You were still receiving hate mailes dropped into your locker. The girls kept whispering curses behind your back as you walked down the corridors with Steve and his pack of wolves. He was able to make everyone silent, though. Now even his friends had no right to bully you like before. He reserved it purely for himself.

"Did you buy yourself a dress?"

"What dress?" You blinked in confusion. "Do I need a dress on Saturday?"

Steve smiled at you and leaned closer, pressing a kiss to your lips.

"No, kitten, I'm talking about the prom."

You rolled your eyes at his words. Of course, Steve Rogers needed to show off everywhere he possibly could - he definitely hoped to become prom king. You, on the contrary, didn't care much. In fact, you didn't want to come there at all. You hardly had any friends at school, and coming to watch Steve flashing his smile and basking in the rays of glory would only make you more irritated with him.

"No, I didn't."

"Then we could go together. I know one nice place."

"Where? 5th Avenue again?"

You smirked, watching the guy frown. Last time you went shopping together was a nightmare for you. You ended up with several bags of expensive lingerie Steve paid for, and you were disgusted at yourself for giving in to him. True, his family was twice wealtier than yours, but it didn't mean you wanted anything from him. Except for leaving you alone, that is.

"And what of it?" Rogers asked you sharply, rising above you. "If I want to buy you a dress, I will."

You sighed, turning your head to Steve and pulling your body closer against his. You learned to enjoy this intimacy with time as he taught you what making love to each other meant. You were pleasantly surprised at his efforts to make you feel good.

"Steve, please. I don't want to think of it now. It's... ruining the mood."

He purred as you caressed his blonde hair and snuggled closer to you, dropping little kisses to your face and touching your cheek affectionately. Steve loved being tender. You believed he had a real physical need to touch you one way or another, often without any sexual subtext at all. It was almost as bad as his need to bully you verbally, especially when he was aroused. You were still learning how to cope with that.

If only he didn't make those photos of you and him in the locker room that time. It was the only reason you obeyed him three months ago when he declared he wanted to keep you close. You didn't know if Steve had stored those pictures somewhere, but you weren't worried about them anymore. His obvious obsession with you would keep him from showing photos of you naked with his cock buried inside your wet cunt to the hilt. You could walk away now, yet everything wasn't as easy as before. Steve made sure to gain trust of your parents, pretending to be the perfect caring boyfriend to you and just a very good guy to everyone else. He also made you meet his parents who turned out to be surprisingly nice, nothing like their son. Steve's mother Sarah took an immediate liking to you and often sent you a huge piece of her famous raspberry pie. It was a highlight of your day when Steve handed it to you during lunch. If you broke up with him now, you were sure he'd make up some story where you were the one to blame, and it would make your life even more miserable.

"Why are we doing this, Steve?" You asked him quietly as he played with a lock of your shiny hair. When be looked back at you, you realized he knew what you were talking about.

"What do you mean?" He grunted in return.

"You know this can't last forever." You said, your voice tired. "There are only a few months left before the graduation."

You were still stroking his hair as he bit down on his plump lower lip, his eyes not leaving your face as he stared down at you from above. There was something unsettling in his gaze, something dark, even scary, but you refused to be afraid of his temper tantrums.

"We're applying to different colleges, and they're not close to each other. How do you think we can keep... this going?"

Steve struggled for words, and you saw he was getting frustrated. It was odd - he liked to use aggression as his shield, rarely showing his vulnerable side to anyone and barking off whatever accusation you threw at him. Yet here you were, looking at the guy who couldn't utter a word to answer a simple question.

Was it despair you saw on his pretty face?

"You can choose the same place, too."

"Are you joking? My family would have so sell our house to pay for my studies then." You let out a sigh.

"You can apply for a grant. With your grades it's not impossible."

"Steve, let's be realistic. You wanna go to Columbia University. Do you have any idea how many people are applying for a grant to study there?" You said and, seeing him getting more agitated, wrapped your hands around his muscular shoulders, reaching out to kiss him again.

He deepened the kiss immediately, swirling his tongue around yours and then licking the insides of your mouth when you mewled softly beneath him. The soft vibration against his lips made Steve shivered from pleasure. He spent a bit more time rolling the tip of his tongue all the way around yours and finally released you, dropping a kiss to your chin.

"If you can't make it, I'm going to apply to the same place as you." He whispered, and you felt his cock gradually getting harder. "I'm sure they'll be happy to take me."

"Steve, you're mad." You shaked your head. "What are your parents going to say? They want the best for y-"

"I don't care what they want, it's up to me to decide." The guy growled and bit your lower lip gently, lowering himself on top of you again. "You're my girl, and my girl is going with me. I still have those photos in case you forgot."

"Ah!"

You squeezed your eyes shut as his fingers touched your overstimulated clit, rubbing it skillfully as you squirmed. Your mouth fell agape as you were left gasping for air, trapped under Steve's athletic figure. Moaning at his touch, you looked at him, feverish, getting aroused again, your hands caressing his back as he smiled at you. He loved when you were a blushing mess beneath him, crying out his name as you were orgasming. No one else got to see you like this.

"I know you were a good girl today, but I want some more. You can handle it, can't you?" The guy cooed in your ear. "Come on, kitten. Show me how you mewl with my cock inside you. You're gonna mewl for me, right? Do it. Now."

You did as he said when his fingers were slowely fucking your sloppy cunt, your core aching for his dick almost painfully. Mewling softly, you kissed him again, and Steve slammed into you, muffling your high-pitched cry with his mouth  as he started rocking his hips. It felt so good, so fucking good. A wail of pleasure ripped from your throat, and Steve grinned at you.

"You're such a good little kitten, Y/N. I think next time we won't go to a restaurant, I'm just gonna give you a cat bowl full of my cum. You're gonna lick it clean, yeah? You're gonna do that for me, dear?"

"Yes, yesss, Steve." You whined as you felt your pussy kissing the base of his cock with a lewd sound. Panting and moving with Steve, you already felt one more orgasm building up, your mouth open and drooling. "I'm a good kitten, I'm a good kitten... pleaseplease Steeeeve..."

He groaned at your words, speeding up gradually and watching your eyes roll to the back of your head: he was rubbing against your g-spot to make your pussy milk his balls dry. Of, he fucking loved seeing that stupid expression on your face when you came, completely helpless, dependent on him to give you pleasure no one else could.

Steve was the one and only who could make you like this. Who the hell cared what his friends or parents said if he could hear you moaning his name beneath him whenever he liked? You were becoming more and more accepting, clinging to him when others were to mock you in public, spreading your legs for him when he cornered you in your or his own room. You grew to enjoy obeying him like a good girl you were, and Steve was going to keep you, finally, after all those long years of waiting.

He would make sure you never left his sight again.

___________

Tags: @finleyjayne @alexakeyloveloki  ​@helenaeisenhower @villanellevi @hurricanerin ​@lovelydarkdaydream

[xiaofiaan]

omg happy trans tuesday venti <33 okay your gender hcs for genshin?

WOULD DIE FOR YOU EESHA

okay okay [vibrates at high speeds] ok let's go

- I think venti is agender or nonbinary 😌😌😌 because yeah. he/xe pronouns!!!!! very comfortable with gender as a whole but xe could honestly live without it lol

- the traveler is nonbinary!!! any and all pronouns <3 they've traveled the worlds long enough to realize that it's okay for them to feel a little different, for them to question themselves and their idea of gender and sexuality.

- razor is nonbinary 😌 he/xe/they pronouns. I like to think he doesn't understand the concept of gender (since he was, yk, raised by wolves) so he's just vibing

- kaeya is trans! he/they king who constantly teases his brother for being cis

- I saw this hilarious post (I wish I could find it 😭) but it was like "why don't you come out as trans to ur brother, diluc" and then diluc replying "he came out as trans first, so if I say I'm trans, he'll think I'm looking up to him, and I'd rather Die" and I think that's really fucking funny JFNFKSK

- xiangling is trans!!! she/her pronouns :3 I love her and therefore, she is trans

- SUCROSE IS ALSO TRANS!!! I love her sm I think her and albedo are best friends and when albedo comes out as trans she's like "!!! me too!!!!" and they bond even further

- sucrose: I transed ur gender (involuntarily)

- albedo: oh my god you transed my gender

- XIAO IS AGENDER TOO... he/him pronouns. he doesn't get gender constructs he's an adepti and he fights. what the heck does gender even have to do with it

- he meets venti and he's like "neato, same here" and venti just stops for a hot second bc hell yes his trans senses were RIGHT

- he comes out to zhongli and the old man just smiles over his tea cup and pats him on the back and says he's proud of him for trusting him with that

- xiaos about to cry when zhongli shrugs and says "me too btw" and he tries not to choke on his almond tofu

- I'm trying to remember. people. UH

- RIGHT xinyan is trans and uses she/they pronouns.. I love her, would die for her, I just think she's neat 😌

- XINGYUN (they come in a pair)!! both trans both funky. xingqiu is nonbinary and I like to think he uses he/she pronouns. and chongyun is trans masc :3 he/him

- they high five when they tell one another and then do stupid shit together as they should

- BENNETT... bennett is trans......... either trans masc or agender I like both of them but he uses he/they pronouns and I'd die for him like 20 times over

- hu tao is trans 😌 I like to think her and xiao are friends (grudgingly on xiaos part lmao) and they just. sit and vibe. xiao tells her a bit about himself and how he's trans and she leaps up, gasping "me too!!" and xiao almost falls out of his chair in sheer surprise

- AMBER IS TRANS!!! she/they queen!!! would set you on fire if you ever misgendered her or her friends <3 the traveler absolutely adores them and they're best friends

- jean is trans 😌 she/he pronouns and I love that for him. kaeya and her share drinks one night and he comes out to him and he just smiles. she's not ready to tell him, not yet, but she will eventually.

- there's so many genshin characters I'm going insane

- ok I think that's it for now bc I have yet to meet more characters 👀 might update might update

[verai-marcel]

Can we get a fic where some of the gang members including the f!reader go out drinking and Arthur gets loose and ends up sleeping w/ the reader, letting his feral out a bit? Love your writing >:)

Hidden Desires (RDR2 Fanfic, LH Arthur x F!Reader, 18+)

Summary: After a night of drinking, Arthur loses his self-control when you give him the opportunity to give into his hidden desires.

Author’s Notes: A lovely request from anon, oh yes. And since you didn’t pick an honor, we’ll get down and dirty with low honor Arthur!

Tags: shameless smut, low honor Arthur, Arthur x female!reader, rough sex, doggy style, light D/s tones, virgin reader, dirty talk

AO3 Link is here!

——————–

“C’mon, let’s go!”

Lenny shook his head. “I’m gonna pass. I had enough of drinkin’ for now.”

Javier shrugged. “Alright. Anyone else coming with me and Arthur?”

You laughed softly, recalling how Arthur had come back a few nights ago, drunk as a skunk, yelling something about never being taken alive and being an American before passing out in a field nearby. You had let him be, but had quietly waited nearby for him to wake up, keeping an eye out for wolves or coyotes. Ever since you had joined the gang, you had taken it upon yourself to take care of the gruff outlaw, knowing that deep down, he had a soft heart.

“I’ll go,” Charles said, walking towards the two other men.

Glancing around, you noticed that no one else seemed to want to go. “I’ll go too,” you finally said. “If only to make sure you boys get home safe.”

“We’ll be fine, that’s what Arthur’s for,” Javier said, jabbing a thumb in Arthur’s direction. “He’s learned his lesson, right?”

Arthur just shrugged.

Shaking your head, you followed the three men to their horses.

“Wait, what about me?”

The four of you turned to see Sean, jogging closer.

“Did ya t’ink you’d be able to go fer a pint wit’out invitin’ me?”

Arthur just sighed.

“The more the merrier,” Javier said, although you could tell he said it with a bit of reluctance.

“Well t’en, let’s get goin’!” Sean said jovially.

It was going to be a long night.

***

You had made the wise decision to only have 2 beers, slowly sipping your drinks to trick the boys into thinking you were drinking more than you actually had. In the same amount of time, they had drunk enough to stumble around the saloon, chatting up anyone and everyone. Well, Sean was, at least. Javier and Charles were trying to woo some ladies, while Arthur tried to keep up with Sean’s conversation.

Meanwhile, you stood at the bar, finishing your second and final beer. You smiled as Arthur stumbled over to you, leaving Sean to fend for himself.

“Had enough of Sean’s tall tales?” you asked, a teasing lilt to your voice.

Arthur grinned at you, leaning against the bar, tilting his head towards you. “More than enough for a whole lifetime.” He took a step closer to you, one hand sliding around your waist.

You blinked in surprise. Arthur had never been so close and touchy with you before. The warmth of his hand sparked a fire in you, the touch of his hand as his fingers caressed your hip making your heart beat faster. 

“Why, Mr. Morgan, you’re being awfully forward tonight,” you teased. 

“They don’t call it liquid courage for nothin’,” he joked. “Been wantin’ to talk wit'chu fer a long time, princess.”

His eyes said he wanted to do more than talk. 

Feeling bold, you moved closer to him. Leaning over to whisper in his ear, you grazed your lips against his earlobe. “Why don’t we talk somewhere more… private?" 

Arthur turned his head just enough that you felt his stubble against your cheek as he replied, "Whatever you’d like, my lady.”

***

You wasted no time getting a room and, holding Arthur by the hand, leading him upstairs to one of the farther rooms away from the saloon.

The second you were both inside, he slammed you against the door, rubbing his body against yours. His deep moan as he pressed his hard length against you vibrated through your body, and you responded in kind with a moan of your own.

“Arthur,” you keened, begging for more, your hands unbuttoning his shirt.

He kissed you as he fumbled at your buttons, the two of you almost comically rushing to remove each other’s clothing as inhibitions just careened out the window at record speed. His tongue invaded your mouth, exploring you, conquering you as he got your blouse open and then pulled your chemise down just enough to free your breasts. He grabbed them and squeezed, moaning as he dry humped you against the door.

Your hands made quick work of his buttons, exposing his wide chest to the air. Splaying your hands across his hard muscles, you ran your hands down his body, all the way down to his belt. Undoing the buckle, you felt him pull away.

Watching as he took his gun belt off and set it on a table, he tore off the rest of his clothes, quickly kicking off his boots until he was naked, his cock hard and ready for you.

“What’re you waitin’ fer, princess?” he asked, seeing that you had not moved from your place against the door. “Take’em off.”

You sauntered past him, letting your blouse and chemise flutter to the ground as you peeled them off one by one. Just as you reached the bed, prepared to unbutton your skirt, he suddenly came up behind you and shoved you onto the bed. Falling onto your stomach, your legs hanging off the side, you lifted yourself up only to suddenly be pushed down, Arthur’s hand on your neck, holding you in place. His other hand lifted up your skirt, flinging it upwards to reveal your cotton drawers.

“Get these damn things outta my way,” he growled.

You reached down, pulling your drawers off as best you could while being held down by Arthur’s powerful grip. You got them halfway down your legs before you couldn’t reach any further, and you started wiggling your legs to get them the rest of the way off.

Arthur smacked your bare ass.

“Ow!”

“Stop wigglin’.” He let go of your neck, grabbed your drawers, and pulled them off. Grabbing your hips, he pulled you closer to him, your lower half hanging off the bed. Stepping between your legs, Arthur ran a finger between your nether lips.

“So wet. This fer me, darlin’?”

“Only for you, Arthur.”

“You sure know the right things to say.”

You felt Arthur’s cock nudge your opening.

“Say you want it.”

“Please Arthur, I want it.”

“Want what, princess?”

“Your cock, I want your cock!”

Arthur chuckled as he slowly pushed himself inside of you, the sweet burn of his girth etched forever into your memory. His low groan as he made his way fully inside of you was erotically charged, his breath coming out in one slow, shudder when he hilted. “Fuck,” he muttered. “So tight, like you…”

He trailed off.

Then he grabbed your hair and pulled your head back.

“Am I yer first?” he asked quietly.

You didn’t respond.

Arthur bent over you, his chest pressing against your back. His lips grazed the shell of your ear as he gripped your hair harder and snarled. “Answer me, girl.”

“Yes,” you hissed back.

He suddenly let go of your hair and stood up straight, grabbing your hips. “Then I’ll make sure I’m your only one.”

He pulled out slowly, and re-entered you with such an unhurried pace that you squirmed. Spanking your ass hard, he then stroked your reddened skin when you whimpered.

“You behave now,” he murmured. “I’ll be good to ya.”

His thrusts started to speed up, his hands stroking you, pulling your hair, until he bent over you again and wrapped an arm around your shoulders, holding you tight.

You felt a tightening in your core, a spring being wound up to the point of breaking.

Arthur suddenly stopped and pulled away from you.

Crying out in loss, you barely had time to breathe before he flipped you onto your back and grabbed your legs, resting them on his shoulders as he pushed into you impatiently. He grabbed your breasts again, squeezing them, teasing your nipples between his thumb and finger while he fucked you. Staring down at you, an arrogant smirk on his face, he gripped your jaw. 

“Beg me to fuck you, princess.”

“Fuck me, please, Arthur, I need you to fuck me!”

Arthur’s grin widened as he reached down and stroked your clit. You started to tremble, your legs tensing against his shoulders, your hips lifting of their own accord as you were brought higher and higher to the peak.

With one hand, he lifted your ass up to change the angle as he rutted harder into you, while he rubbed your clit faster. His eyes darkened with lust as he watched you writhe below him.

“That’s it, be a good girl and let go fer me.”

Reaching out to grip his arms, you cried out, coming hard around his cock as he continued to pound into you. Digging your nails into his skin, you spasmed uncontrollably in his grasp until you finally came down from your ecstatic high and slumped on the bed, catching your breath.

“My turn,” Arthur said before he stepped away from you and sat down on the edge of the bed. He reached over and picked you up, settling you on his lap, facing away from him, your legs between his. His cock rubbed against your bottom, sliding between your buttocks. “Ride my cock until I’m done.”

You lifted yourself up and lowered yourself onto his thick shaft, your pussy still sore and sensitive from his thorough fucking. Slowly riding him, you looked behind you to see his eyes riveted on your behind.

“Like what you see?” you asked teasingly.

“Been wanting this fer so long,” he mumbled. He grabbed your ass and squeezed. “So beautiful. How can you be so damn perfect?”

You rode him harder, turned on by his complete infatuation with you. He couldn’t keep his hands off your ass while you bounced up and down on his length. He leaned in close to kiss your shoulder and stare down at your gorgeous rear, taking his cock with an eagerness that drove him wild.

“Fuck,” he uttered. “Stand up and bend over, princess.”

You did as he commanded and felt him stand up behind you, humping the crevasse of your ass until he moaned your name and you felt his spend spilling onto the small of your back.

He collapsed back down onto the bed, his arms spread out. You laughed at the sight of him, exhausted and sated. You lay down next to him and snuggled into his side.

“G’night Arthur,” you whispered.

You were answered by gentle snoring.

***

“What the…?”

You awoke to Arthur staring at you, his eyes blinking in disbelief.

“Yes?” you asked him politely, despite the fact that you were both naked. You both had fallen asleep on top of the covers.

“Did we…?” He gestured at you and himself.

“It was wonderful.”

Arthur was shocked for a moment, then regained himself. “Yes.” He cupped your cheek. “I thought… I thought it might have been a dream.”

You smiled at him. “No dream, Arthur. It was real. I only hope you remember what you told me.”

“Uh… of course.�� He blinked and looked away for a split second.

You arched an eyebrow at him.

He sighed. “No, I don’t remember.”

“You said you were going to make sure you were my only one.”

Arthur nodded. “Well. Sounds like something I’d say.” He rolled over on top of you, and pumped his hips so you felt how hard he was at this moment. “Better make sure then.”

As he spread your legs and entered you once more, you felt like you had won the world.

——————-

End Notes: Really felt good to write so freely, just giving into what the scene looked like in my head and not worrying about plot. Thanks for the request anon, hope you enjoyed this little romp with Arthur!

[wisdomrays]

TAFAKKUR: Part 344

MIRACULOUS ANIMALS: SENSES: Part 1

Animals are spectacular creations. Not only do they have their unique shapes, sizes, colors, and attributes, but also they have incredible senses that enable them to survive and communicate in this world, in a very different (and superior) form than human beings. There are hundreds of thousands of different animals, and each type have a different level of sight, hearing, smell, taste, and touch, along with what scientists call "super-natural senses." All animals and insects were created with those senses that best suits their size, attributes, and habitat for their survival. In this article, I will attempt to give a brief description of the different amazing senses animals have to create a better awareness and appreciation of these wondrous creations.

Sight: When we look around, we see several shades of colors and hundreds of thousands of images. Human beings, and several animals, are able to see images when light enters the eye and releases an electrical signal through our the nerves to the brain. These signals are then transformed into the images, or pictures, that we see. All creatures see these images differently; some see images in different outlines in shape, color, clarity, circumstances, and distance.

Dogs, because of their hunting needs, see twice as much as do human beings. In addition, dogs have an outstanding ability to follow movement and to perceive direction, speed, and trajectory. Trajectory is what gives dogs the innate ability to plot an angle and predict an angle of movement. For example, dogs have an astonishing ability to know the exact spot where a moving object will land and know from which angle it will be coming. This is the reason why dogs are such good ball and Frisbee catchers; because they visually know the exact point of impact of an object as it falls back to the ground. Cats, on the other hand, have a different reason for being such good jumpers. Cats' faces are flat between the eyes, a rare feature in the animal world, which makes it easier for them to work together. As a result, a cat can focus sharply and three-dimensionally, an ability that allows it to visually judge distances with great accuracy before jumping.

Rabbits, for example, are one of the few animals that can see all around them (front and back) without turning in either direction. Their eyes are located on the sides of their head, which enables them to see in all directions. Rabbits, frequent preys for predators, are always on the alert, and their eyes are located in the best place to help them see their enemies.

Human beings and wildlife animals have two kinds of vision cells that are located inside the back of the eye: cones and rods. Cones detect colors in bright light, including black, white, and gray. Rods provide sharp vision in dim light, but do not detect colors. Night creatures have more rods than cones, which provide them with sharper vision at night-but with only shades of gray. Also, to assist these creatures in the dark, they have a special layer in the back of their eyes, called the tapetum, which acts as a mirror when light passes through it. If the rod does not detect the light during the first passing, the tapetum reflects the light back to the rod, thus giving the rod a second chance to pick up on the light and see an image. It is this layer that makes some animal's eyes shine in dim light.

An owl's eye, for example, is so sensitive in picking up light, that research shows that an owl can follow a trial lit up by a candle 1,000 feet away (3,600 meters).

Another amazing sight feature is found in predator birds: "telescopic" eyes that allow them to see by making a far away distant object appear larger. Birds such as the hawk and eagle have the sharpest sight of any animal. These birds have about 1.04 million vision cells in the back of their eyes, which that enables them to see a mouse from as far as one mile away. (Human beings have only about 130 million vision cells.)

Although animals are believed to see colors similar to the way humans do, scientists are not sure how bees and insects see color. Scientists believe that, among some other creatures, bees, birds, and insects can see a color that human beings can not: ultraviolet colors. In addition to red, blue, and yellow, flowers often have ultraviolet patterns that show these birds and insects the way to the plant's nectar and pollen. Such sight makes it possible for these creatures to find and feed on the flowers' nectar and pollen.

However, not all animals have only two eyes. Jumping spiders, for instance, have eight eyes. There are two big eyes in the front, and six smaller eyes on the top of the head slightly toward the sides. The two front eyes are very well developed and act as a pair of binoculars that give the spider a clear image of objects up to one foot (30 cms) away. The little eyes are called secondary eyes. These eyes can spot moving objects and have a built-in reflecting layer that helps the spider to see objects in dim light. The secondary eyes are the eyes that actually measure the distance the spider needs to jump to catch its prey.

Hearing: Just as with other senses, human beings and animals have different levels of hearing. Most animals have only two ears, which helps all of us locate the origin of a sound. Having two ears helps us locate where a sound comes from. Since sound reaches the ears at slightly different times, this makes a sound louder than in one ear. This difference in volume and arrival time in one ear is an indication as to the origin of the sound. Sound is expressed in hertz (cycles per second), which are repetitive vibrations per second. Adult human beings, with a normal hearing ability, can hear from twenty to twenty thousand cycles per second. Amazingly, wolves can hear up to eighty thousand cycles per second, and dogs can hear up to thirty-five thousand cycles per second, almost twice as many as humans.

Cats have a surprising hearing of between fifty to one hundred thousand cycles per second-three to five times than what human beings can hear. In addition, a cat's ear has thirty muscles that control the ear muscles that can rotate 180 degrees. This give cats the opportunity to hear its surroundings without moving its head.

An owl's ear, however, are located at different heights. The difference in height enables an owlit to determine if a noise is coming from a high distance or from the ground. Another interesting feature of many owls is a flat heart-shaped face. The shape of its face functions as a reflector that makes faint sounds louder. These two features enable owls to be the great hunters they are and helps them to hunt in the dark.

Not all animals and insects have "ears"; some have holes in either in their head or in another part of their body, and others have eardrums, such as birds, insects, and fish. Fish's ears, for example, are located under its skin behind its eyes. This way, a fish can pick up on vibrations that pass their skin under the water. Other fish makes some of these noises by vibrating an internal organ or by rubbing their fins together. Fish use these vibrations to communicate with other fish, to mate, to warn other fish, or to swim together in groups.

Smell: Animals with different smelling needs have been created with different noses and different smelling abilities. Among the different abilities and noses, an elephant's nose stands out in many individuals' minds; at least mine. These animals' noses are so amazingly equipped with different functions, it is surprising. An elephant's nose (trunk) and upper lip weighs, on average, 300 lbs. (136 kgs.), and can take up and hold more than one gallon (3.7 lt.) of water at a time for spraying on another animal's back. The trunk is also strong enough to pick up large logs, yet functional enough to gather thin blades to eat. In addition, an elephant can raise its trunk high in the air to smell if any predators are in the area. Another function that I grin at, is that elephants weighing so heavy sink to the bottom of a rivers when they try crossing it; however, they use their noses as snorkels when crossing a deep river by lifting their noses high above the water line to breathe.

Dogs have an astounding sense of smell; they are one of the animals with the best sense of smell. Dogs can pick up odors in concentrations of one part per trillion. A book called Scent, published by veterinarian Dr. Hugo Verbruggen, and dog trainer Milo D. Pearsall, mentions an experiment that illustrates how well dogs can pick up odors. It mentions that if a single gram of butyric acid, a chemical constituent in human perspiration, were released in a ten-story building and evaporated, a human being might be able to smell the odor for a very short moment by sniffing at a window. A dog, in comparison though, would be able to pick up the odor in the same amount if it were to spread over a city the size of Philadelphia anywhere within the city up to an altitude of three hundred feet (90 meters).4 It also mentions that if humans had only ten percent of a dog's smelling ability that dogs have, we would have a totally different understanding of our world we.

Camels are desert animals that have been created with special channels that can hold moisture in the dry desert. Also, when the wind blows, a camel can close its nostrils to keep out the sand and dust.

Ants also fascinate me. These tiny creatures use odors to identify if an ant belongs in their colony or if it is an intruder. In addition, when an ant dies a certain odor is released, and other ants in the colony will carry the dead ant to a burial site. An experiment has been performed by scientists that placed this "dead" odor on a healthy ant. Although the marked ant was struggling and kept returning to the nest, other ants constantly carried this marked ant to their burial grounds in the belief that it was dead.

[seagreen-meets-grey]

When Lightning Strikes Ch. 1

When your life is nothing but a cloudless sky, lightning can come and strike you so unexpectedly, you won't even know what hit you.

Or: When Hiccup and Astrid meet, it is as if lightning strikes.

[Chapter 2] [Chapter 3] [Chapter 4] [Chapter 5] [Chapter 6] [Chapter 7] [Chapter 8] [Chapter 9] [Chapter 10] [Chapter 11] [Chapter 12] [Chapter 13] [Chapter 14] [Chapter 15] [Chapter 16] [Chapter 17] [Chapter 18] [Chapter 19] [Chapter 20]

Crossposted on ao3 and ff.net

_______________

- Part 1 - 

_______________

Astrid really should have seen this coming.

Her boyfriend had been acting weird all day, throwing her strange looks, dropping his coffee mug, nervously wringing his hands while asking her if she wanted to go out for dinner tonight. She’d had no plans – which she realized later had been planned by him all along – so she agreed to go.

Eret took her to a very nice restaurant in a part of town she’d only rarely been to before. It was so fancy it had valet parking, two well-dressed young men opening the doors for them when they went inside, soft piano tunes played live by a pianist sitting at the grandest piano she had ever seen, and several different sets of cutlery she struggled to connect to their respective uses.

Astrid almost felt underdressed in her simple skirt and blouse, but Eret kept reassuring her that she looked beautiful.

“I just wanted to go somewhere special with you, love,” he simply said when she asked him why they hadn’t just gone for burgers like they usually did, and ordered the best champagne the restaurant offered. Really, Astrid was later surprised she didn’t make the connection immediately, almost expecting something golden flashing at her from the bottom of her delicate champagne glass.

After dinner, they strolled through the small park behind the restaurant, arms linked and making fun of the various guests that had been dining around them, more upper class than either of them would ever experience. Astrid blinked into the setting sun; gone was her brief frustration with her boyfriend when he’d refused to let her pay at least a quarter of the massive bill.

When they reached an impressive fountain surrounded by torches, the flames reflecting in the crystal-clear water, Eret suddenly cleared his throat. Momentarily distracted by the beautiful lights, Astrid almost missed him starting a long speech about how happy she made him, how much he loved falling asleep next to her, only to look forward to waking up to her pretty face in the morning. He went on reminiscing about the adventures they’d had together during the course of their relationship, about the way her punches filled him with life, and how he had realized she was the love of his life and he wanted to spend the rest of it together with her.

When he proceeded to fall on one knee, it was almost too much for Astrid. This entire night had been romantic, a bit too romantic for her taste, drawing the picture of the perfect proposal. And when he fished a black velvet box out of his jacket, opened it and asked the question, the light from the torches caught in the small golden band he was presenting her, completing the picture.

Her answer was only logical. Despite the circumstances of this act not really being her style, she still felt elated, and the answer felt just right to her. She and Eret had been together for a few years now, had lived together for most of them, and she couldn’t find a reason for ever breaking up with him. So she broke into a wide grin and nodded.

“Is that a yes?”

Astrid kept nodding. “Yes!”

Eret swooped her up in his arms and kissed her passionately before sliding the ring on her finger. It sat a little loose on her skin but not so loose that she had to worry it could slip over the joint.

Although Astrid would have been totally fine if the ring had ended up in a glass of soda while they were watching a movie at home, Astrid was happy, and very much so. Nothing could throw a dent in her elated state.

Until two weeks later, thunder started rolling through the sky.

_______________

The sun shining through the bathroom window was warming Astrid’s face as she brushed her hair and put it into a loose braid over her shoulder. Adding a little touch of make-up, she smiled at herself in the mirror. Her mother was right, she had a certain glow about her. Post-engagement-pre-married glow, she called it.

A few days ago, Eret and she had started going through their calendars to agree on a date for the wedding, and the more they talked about it, the more excited Astrid felt. Her friends had asked her if she wasn’t nervous, but she figured that would come later in the planning phase, closer to the actual wedding. These days, she was constantly smiling. Eret said it was almost creepy.

She swatted at Eret when he gave her a kiss on the cheek, almost ruining her make-up, as they left their apartment not much later. Leaving their cars at home, they started the ten-minute walk to the next bus station since they anticipated that they would both be legally and physically unable to drive at some point of the night. Dagur, a friend of Eret’s, was having a party for his 30th birthday, and if Dagur “The Deranged” was throwing a party, no one would leave still able to operate a vehicle.

About half-way to the station, dark, thick clouds gradually began to cover up the sky above them, slowly building a wall between the sun and the earth. A fresh breeze took up but Astrid wasn’t cold. It felt rather liberating, the air charged with electricity, the heat of the afternoon gone. She took a deep breath, inhaling the smell of rain and storms. She hadn’t realized the weight the summer heat had put on her shoulders, her head, her chest. New energy ran through her and she skipped a few steps ahead, smile widening.

“What’s got you so excited?” Eret chuckled when she twirled back around to face him.

Walking backwards, she briefly considered explaining how the brooding thunderstorm above them filled her with anticipation, charged her nerves with a thousand volts, made her heart beat faster at the promise of a heavy downpour. But then she simply shrugged and turned back around so she didn’t bump into a parking car or a traffic sign. “I’m just ready to party.”

“I’m gonna tell Dagur you said that.”

“Oh, please do. I still need to get back at him for stealing my last bottle of tequila.”

“I’m looking forward to holding your hair while you puke your guts out tonight.”

Without looking, Astrid gave her fiancé the bird over her shoulder, earning herself a hearty chuckle.

On their drive to Dagur’s house, Astrid felt the air charge with voltage more and more the closer they came to their destination, almost to the point where the anticipation became unbearable. But when they exited the bus and a cool gust of wind blew a few strands of hair out of her braid, the strange feeling gave way to her former excitement and she was the first at the door.

A young woman about Astrid’s age with long black hair let them in and introduced herself as Dagur’s sister. She led them through an already buzzing crowd of people into what under normal circumstances seemed to be a living room. Plastic cups, bowls of snacks and bottles of various beverages, mostly alcoholic, were covering almost every surface. A huge stereo was playing loud beats with a bass so powerful Astrid felt it vibrate deep in her chest, sending waves of electric tingles through her body.

Looking around, she didn’t recognize anyone. Eret knew Dagur from college, back when he and Astrid had first started dating, but everyone else she remembered from that period wasn’t here. So while Eret went to get them drinks, Astrid turned towards Dagur’s sister who was still standing nearby.

“Heather, was it?” She had to shout over the music for her words to reach the other girl.

“Yes, and you must be Astrid. Dagur told me about you.”

Astrid glanced around at the mention of him. “Where’s the birthday boy, anyway?”

Heather pursed her lips and shrugged. “That is a good question. Chances are high he’s either fighting a pack of wolves in the garden or outdrinking rivals somewhere else in the house.”

Astrid chuckled. That sounded like Dagur. Biting her lip, she tried to think of something else to talk to Heather about. For a moment, she felt awkward standing there in the middle of the room with Dagur’s sister, without any connection to her or anyone else around her. She was glad when Eret returned and handed her a drink. While she took a long sip, feeling the alcohol run down her throat, she heard the first roll of thunder in the sky.

“I think the storm is about to start,” she chimed in when she noticed that Eret had momentarily run out of conversational topics. Both Eret and Heather looked at her confused.

“Storm?” Heather asked and turned to look outside. “Oh, right. Looks like rain.”

“Didn’t you just hear the thunder? It was pretty loud,” Astrid said, realizing she was yelling so as to be heard over the music.

“Couldn’t hear anything,” Eret said, talking close to her ear. “Maybe we should turn down the music a notch or else I won’t be able to either hear or talk anymore in an hour.”

“What did you say?” Heather yelled back.

While Eret repeated his suggestion, Astrid frowned to herself. How had she heard the thunder, anyway? She figured she must have imagined it. She still felt the electricity in the air, in her veins, a strange tug in her stomach, resembling the feeling of stopping on a rollercoaster hill right before the drop. Gulping down more of her drink, she felt her heartbeat speed up.

Suddenly, something tugged at the field of her vision and made her turn her head. In an instant, all the energy that had been building inside her for the past hour or two discharged at once. It made the hairs on her arms stand up, her toes and the tips of her fingers went numb, her stomach dropped out and the breath caught in her throat.

Her eyes locked with green.

And lightning struck.

_______________

It wasn’t long after the first guests had arrived that the party was in full swing. Dagur was walking around with a bottle of vodka, constantly pouring some into people’s cups. His typical manic laughter could be heard through the whole house, even when someone decided to find out Dagur’s stereo’s full capability in terms of volume.

Slowly sipping at his drink, Hiccup did his best to avoid the crazy man. He knew that if he let Dagur be in charge of his alcohol consumption, he’d be dead in a ditch by midnight. Instead, he kept observing his surroundings, drawing a map of the house in his mind, highlighting all the different escape routes. Whenever he heard the sound of Dagur’s voice or saw people subtly shuffling out of the man’s field of vision when they saw him approach with his bottle of hellish liquid, he called up his imaginary map and disappeared down the next emergency exit.

Several times during his continued run from Dagur, Hiccup passed the glass door that led into the garden. But whenever he stuck out his hand to the handle, something held him back, something in the depths of his mind, or heart, or soul, he couldn’t quite decipher it. Glancing up at the sky, he figured it was some kind of weather sense telling him it was about to rain cats and dogs that made him draw back. For some reason, he felt that inside the house was where he was supposed to be right now.

That didn’t help him, though, when in an unwary moment, Dagur laid eyes on him. “Hiccup, brother!”

“Oh, shit,” Hiccup cursed under his breath and spun around, frantically searching for the next best escape and spotting the open door to the garden. Ignoring Dagur’s calls, he made a beeline for the exit, slipping out into the cool evening air that tasted of ozone and was filled with something, something unidentifiable. A few groups of people were gathered in different corners of the porch and the large lawn. Hiccup briefly considered running off into the adjacent woods, but a large hand on his shoulder made that plan evaporate into thin air.

“Brother! You can’t hide from me forever, man,” Dagur said and chuckled when Hiccup tried to stop himself from grimacing. “Watcha got in there?” He laid an arm around Hiccup’s shoulders and peeked into his cup. He smelled of weed.

Hiccup held his drink out of reach for Dagur so he couldn’t easily fill it up with vodka. Dagur didn’t seem to notice.

“You and I, brother Hiccup, we need to down some shots. I haven’t hung out with you all night.” His words didn’t indicate it but his slightly swaying movements showed that he’d had lots of those already. Hiccup tried to get out of Dagur’s headlock but his grip was too strong, so he couldn’t do anything but let the bigger man lead him to one of the foldable bar tables that were standing around the garden.

As soon as Hiccup put his cup on the table, Dagur poured a generous amount of vodka into it. Hiccup sighed in defeat and took a careful sip, regretting every decision he ever made that led him to this day. The alcohol burned in his throat and he recoiled at the taste of almost pure vodka. He wasn’t made for this.

Dagur babbled on about everything and nothing while Hiccup swallowed and perked up at the sudden urge to run back inside. Although the air out here was nice and fresh and he could feel the first drops of rain on his skin, something tugging on the insides of his gut wanted him inside where the air was surely hot and stuffy. Taking a deep breath, Hiccup took one more sip of his drink and shook his head, grimacing again.

“Hey, Dagur, um, brother,” he started, interrupting what sounded like the story of how Dagur lost his v-card, “I’m just gonna head inside, to… To use the bathroom. Yes, bathroom.” And without waiting for an answer, he darted away from the death trap of a man, leaving his cup behind and heading back inside.

He’d guessed right, the air inside the house was awful, full of condensed sweat and alcohol and lacking the appropriate amount of oxygen. He felt the need to open all the windows. He couldn’t be the only one not enjoying this.

Before Dagur could try and follow him, he fled to the other side of the house, bumping into several drunk people on the way. A brief check of his watch confirmed what he’d expected of one of Dagur’s parties: that most people were already drunk long before midnight.

Arriving at the point of the house furthest from Dagur, Hiccup leaned against the wall and breathed a sigh of relief. But this pressing feeling in his gut, this urge to be somewhere, this weird anticipation of something to happen at any moment now was still there, still made him absentmindedly drum his fingers against his legs in an uneven rhythm. He shook his head, trying to get rid of this feeling. He suspected that Dagur had given him something not entirely pure vodka. He vowed to make sure he didn’t accept any more drinks from the man tonight.

Taking another deep breath, he pushed himself off the wall and went looking for the one person at this party he wanted to talk to right now. But the already very crowded house – who even were all these people? – gave Hiccup a hard time finding Heather. At last, he entered the living room once again. He’d actually hoped that she wasn’t here because this room was too close to the last place he’d seen her brother and therefore a dangerous place for Hiccup to be.

As soon as he crossed the threshold, though, he felt the strange tug again. He made a few more steps into the room and scanned the crowd for long black hair. But instead of Heather, his eyes found something else.

And in the exact moment he locked eyes with piercing blue, a blinding flash of lightning went off in the sky, in the garden, in this very living room. It jolted right through his heart, his mind, leaving nothing but vast numbness in its trail.

[anchored-in-high-tide]

Evermore

Rating: General Audience

Fandom/Pairing: Sherlock (TV)/Johnlock

Chapters: 1/1

Words: 2068

Tags: Fluff, Post-Canon, Sherlock x Disney, Beauty and the Beast (2017), Oblivious John, Pining Sherlock, Parentlock, Rosie wants to be a princess, Sherlock sings, First Kiss, Friends to Lovers

Inspired by the song: Evermore from Beauty and the Beast (2017)

He will tell him today, John decides as he carries the groceries back to their flat. Rosie will start school in a couple of weeks. It’s high time she gets her own room, to invite friends, to do homework, to have a place she doesn’t have to share with her father. Sherlock will surely understand that, won’t he? Yes, John will tell him today that he and Rosie will move out.

Maybe Sherlock already figured it out by himself. He has been a little quieter lately, has even declined some of Lestrade’s—according to Sherlock, absolutely boring—cases to spend more time with Rosie. Maybe he already knows and is just waiting for my final verdict.

That this arrangement had even worked for the past five years was a miracle, after all; Working on murder cases with a toddler on one’s arm was—a challenge, to say the least. In all those years following John and Rosie’s rather rash return to 221B Baker Street, neither John nor Sherlock have dared to talk about its implications for the future. They have simply enjoyed each other’s company, watched Rosie grow into a brilliant, funny girl, lived in the moment—because both know that those bits of happiness vanish faster than you can blink. You need to hold on to them as long as you can. The future will arrive soon enough and spoil all your plans.

And things have been fine, great really. Sherlock adores Rosie and the little girl, in return, is obsessed with her “Sher” that lets her ride on his shoulders and teaches her about bees and stars and disembowelment (if John doesn’t watch him very carefully).

John’s lips hurt a little as he smiles melancholically. Yes, they have had five good years. But even good things have to end sooner or later. Probably, Sherlock will even be glad to finally have his flat back, to experiment in the kitchen again and play the violin at all times of the night.

John just has to get it over with. It won’t be that bad. It’s not like they won’t spend time together anymore. He’ll make sure to find a place as close by as possible so that Sherlock can see Rosie whenever he pleases. He can’t separate them, not after everything Sherlock has done for them.

It has taken John longer than he cares to admit adjusting to his life as a widower, to cope with all the traumas and terror he has lived through. He couldn’t have done it without Sherlock—his help with Rosie, his friendship, his companionship. By now, he is factually Rosie’s second parent. John doesn’t want to break their bond. It would devastate all three of them.

But they can’t keep on living in denial about the lack of space for a rapidly growing child. They have to find a new place, to move on. They can make that work. They always have.

As he unlocks the front door and steps into the familiar hall, John can already hear the music floating down the staircase from their flat. He tries to remember the last time it has been quiet when he came home. Will there still be music in their new flat? Will the songs still sound the same without Sherlock?

John shakes his head determinedly, hoping that his painful thoughts would just fall off. He isn’t prone to sentimentality but having to leave Sherlock for a second time is bound to be an emotional train wreck, at least for him. Who knows what’s going on in that funny head of Sherlock’s? He wouldn't care, now, would he?

Following the soaring melody, John climbs up the stairs, trying to identify the tune. It’s either something from Frozen or Beauty and the Beast, probably.

Rosie is in the middle of her princess phase, ever since she has seen her first Disney movie. For the past weeks and months, she has barely talked about anything else than her favourites—Belle, Elsa, Moana, Cinderella, … She insists on watching the same films over and over again whenever John and Sherlock allow her some telly-time. The rest of her days, she spends reenacting her favourite scenes, soundtrack included. John can (more or less proudly) claim to know the lyrics to Let It Go even in his sleep by now.

At first, John was utterly horrified when his daughter for the first time expressed interest for something as far removed from science as possible, especially fearing that Sherlock might make some snarky comments about romantized and outdated gender roles, but, to John’s surprise and amusement, he has supported Rosie in her royal extravaganza with as much enthusiasm and diligence as he usually displays on a crime scene. He even convinced Mycroft to buy her a yellow gown—“Just like Belle’s! Thank you, Uncle Myc”—for her birthday. John has never seen anything funnier than Mycroft Holmes, the personification of the British Government, bowing to her majesty Rosie the First and graciously accepting her invitation to tea.

As he is half-way up the stairs, the music ebbs away and he hears Rosie’s high, demanding voice: “Now sing your song, Sher!” Her talent for bossing people around would do a real princess honour.

“As you wish, your majesty,” responds Sherlock’s silky baritone. He has never been one for strict parenting, John thinks as another melody begins. He would spoil Rosie rotten if John didn’t interfere, his heart being simply unable to deny her anything.

The lump in his throat grows with every step, the grocery bag weighing him down as if it were filled with lead instead of apples, toast, and beans. He will miss all of this. But what other choice is there really?

In the sitting room, only a few meters away now, Sherlock’s voice begins to sing a song John recognizes from Beauty and the Beast, the live-action version which Rosie has been only allowed to watch a couple of nights ago. She was a little scared of the howling wolves but the Beast won a special place in her heart right away. John must admit that he, too, enjoyed that particular film. Well, they can still have movie nights at their new place.

He mounts the last few steps, stopping on the landing to listen to Sherlock, the words now easily distinguishable:

“I was the one who had it all, I was the master of my fate. I never needed anybody in my life. I learned the truth too late.”

The fervency he lays into the lyrics makes John’s insides tingle. He has heard Sherlock sing to Rosie before but nothing has come close to this level of… honesty? The words drip from his tongue as fresh and true as spring water and make John hold his breath almost devoutly, a clandestine listener to a secret symphony.

With utmost caution as to not disturb them, John opens the door to the sitting room and peaks inside. The scene before his eyes is one to thaw even the coldest of hearts: Rosie, a head full of golden locks and mischief, is standing on the couch, her light blue dress playing around her bare feet as she bounces up and down in excitement. Sherlock’s slender figure is towering over her, the blanket the three of them cuddle under on cold nights draped around his shoulders as a makeshift cape. With melodramatic gestures and skillful vibrato in his honey-like voice, he entertains the little girl:

“I'll never shake away the pain. I close my eyes but he's still there. I let him steal into my melancholy heart; It's more than I can bear.”

John stops short in the doorway. He? Him? That can’t be right. As far as he remembers, the Beast sings this song about Belle. Why would he use male pronouns? Or has he misheard?

He eyes Sherlock carefully but the singing detective doesn’t show any signs of flustering, nor does Rosie correct him. Surely, John has misheard then. When it comes to reciting Disney songs, Rosie is more than unforgiving when someone makes a mistake. Unfortunately, she has picked up Sherlock’s habit to correct everyone on everything, although not with the same air of smugness as her godfather.

“Now I know he'll never leave me. Even as he runs away. He will still torment me, Calm me, hurt me, Move me, come what may.”

There it is again. He! John is sure he has heard it right this time. The syllable rings in his ears, echoes in his chest, lets every sinew in his body vibrate with alarming anticipation. He can’t move. Glued to the spot, he just keeps watching the two most important people in his life, both completely immersed in their little show. Rosie giggles satisfied as Sherlock kneels down in front of the sofa in an overly dramatic fashion, clutching his heart with one hand.

“Wasting in my lonely tower, Waiting by an open door, I'll fool myself, he'll walk right in And be with me for evermore.”

The deep note makes goosebumps spread all over John’s body. Deep inside his bones, something is shifting, falling into place, but he can’t quite put his finger on it. Why does this performance move him so much? It is heartwarming to watch, sure, but there’s something more, something significant going on. His breathing speeds up a notch without him being able to do anything about it. His whole body has become oddly rigid, no longer accepting orders from his mind. The bag full of groceries slips from his hand and lands on the floor with a thunk that makes Sherlock, at last, aware of his existence.

For a split second, their eyes meet and the hint of a coy smile tugs at Sherlock’s mouth but it vanishes so quickly that John is not quite sure if he has seen it at all. Rosie wins back his attention at once. Sherlock rises and swoops her off the sofa in one smooth movement, whirling her around in a pirouette that makes her squeal with laughter.

“I rage against the trials of love. I curse the fading of the light. Though he's already flown so far beyond my reach he's never out of sight.”

Rosie wraps her legs and arms around his body like a little spider monkey, Sherlock securing her with strong arms as he keeps spinning them around. He lets his head fall back and sings at full volume as they twirl on the worn-out carpet, his voice saturating the air with its enchanting timbre. Every single word hits John like a wrecking ball.

“Now I know he'll never leave me, Even as he fades from view. He will still inspire me, Be a part of everything I do. Wasting in my lonely tower Waiting by an open door—”

Sherlock’s eager eyes fix on John and a hint of sadness and something apologetic flit across his face as he halts in the middle of the sitting room, the few steps between them, the safe distance they had kept all these years, this unsurmountable abyss finally being bridged by a delicate construct of wavering words.

John burns up under his gaze and is yet unable to divert his own eyes from the face of the man he shares his life with. Why would he ever give this up? Why would he ever let anything as mundane as a missing bedroom rip Sherlock from his side again? He can’t leave him, he doesn’t want to, he has never wanted to, since the first day they met. The realization crushes him like an avalanche, breaking bones and convictions like brittle twigs.

“I'll fool myself, he'll walk right in. And as the long, long nights begin, I'll think of all that might have been—”

Sherlock knows. How could he not? Sherlock knows how John feels about him. And if the pleading look he gives John and the confession he has woven into the song are any indicators, he feels the same. It couldn’t be clearer. John lets out a disbelieving puff of air—half laughter, half sigh. Why has it taken him so long to see it?

“Waiting here for evermore.”

The last note of the song hangs unfinished under the ceiling of their home as John crosses the sitting room with three swift steps, takes Sherlock’s face in his hands, and shuts him up with a long overdue kiss.

@itsalwaysyou-jw @drunk-rambles @barbsiebabe @blueeyesbitch @bugzy-boiz

[miraimisu]

A Name In The Rain

Summary: Gladion has a very particular curse where all he wants is ripped from his grasp over and over, and he wonders when (or, if it ever will) stop breaking his heart this much.

Wordcount: 5709

A/N: soooooo @lonashipping​ got a very lovely anon like “ye ye MOON DYING OVER AND OVER AGAIN AND GLADION HAVING A BAD TIME” so I was like “yooo I have this Twitter thread I made for stuff??? And I can implement it and make some tweaks and” voilá here it is Jane you asked for it well your anony did but whatever it’s your fault for enabling it also this helped me as a break from all other stuff I’m planning so NICE

I also thoroughly apologize if there any pronouns wrong, because Gladion used to be a lady and Moon used to be a sir so yeetus

Also very worth mentioning that there are mentions of suicide in this, but it’s nothing graphic!

ENJOY

—

Moon is a queen and he is but a lowly servant, but that does not prevent him from falling in love with the shiny star concealed in high towers and silky robes. Her presence is sacred, and so is the temple she lives in.

Like the greedy man he is, Gladion tries to sneak into the holy sanctuary to satiate his need for recognition. To feast his eyes in the beauty she is and shower her with the flowers she deserves.

And his act is met with the wrath from the gods.

His curse rings loud and clear: he will be doomed to eternal life until his sin has been met with enough misery. Such words make his blood go cold, his eyes turn stale, and for his heart to sink.

He had wanted her to fall in love with him. But never for this price.

The closest Gladion can ever get to death is the agony of pain. He tries everything: he tries to starve himself to death, to throw himself to a volcano, to be eaten alive by wolves. But nothing works. He can feel the fire burning his skin, but his skin doesn't burn. The bites of wolves, his skin will cure itself. Starvation will drive him insane, but he won't die. He can only try and go through terrible agony.

So Gladion accepts his life. He tries to work his way to the top to be with Moon. His heart, cursed by Eros, longs for her attention. He is a strong determined man who cannot die but can make the best out of his immortality, and he will be with his beloved.

No matter what it takes.

One day, war strikes. Everything is on fire. Gladion sees her sanctuary be destroyed. The clouds raining with fury, the skies being split. His beloved is carried away with the chaos of war. All he can do is weep, for he cannot follow her to her deathbed. All he can do is mourn.

But he tries again. Tries to follow her to death. His heart with that artificial love fools him into desperation, into an unquenchable longing that will never be fulfilled. Nothing works. All he can do is let his sorrow eat him alive.

But not even that will cure his illness. Unrequited, immortal love.

One day, the cycle stops. Gladion decides to stop. He tries to find a way to live without her. Some days he is happy. Some days he is sad. This blessing of immortality came with a curse, and no matter how many times he repents, no answer comes from the gods.

It is one day when Gladion hears the following words:

"A girl with hair like the night and eyes of twilight has been born in a faraway country. They say she is the new goddess of war."

Gladion runs with the wind. In a village where he hid in the shadows, nobody will miss him.

Nobody did.

He travels for weeks. Gladion travels for months. By foot, he crosses mountains. He fights in battles. He sees new civilizations be built. The world changes as he walks across the continent, across the sea, and into the sun to find her.

Maybe, just maybe, it could be her.

One day, Gladion arrives in a village where he asks for refuge and food. When asked, he says he is looking for his dead beloved. Trusting, he speaks of immortality. He speaks of needing to see her once more. His life has no other worth but to drink from this unrequited love.

Their answer is to hang him from a burning cross.

When his body never burns, the people of the village scatter around.

Two hours later, the village is empty. Gladion is alone again.

He continues his journey.

Gladion arrives at Johto years later. Feet scraped, desperation itching at his skull and wonder in his eyes. This civilization is unlike any other: rice on the ground, men like statues and buildings brushing the clouds.

They pray to the color of black. It reminds him of her eyes.

Gladio sees her from afar, one day. It had been an utter chance, and she was young. When he is about to step in her direction, a monk approaches him with kind eyes. It felt like he could see right through him and into his soul.

"Bid your time," he says "and wait for the rain."

Gladion can no longer see her after his words. Not for weeks, not for years. His life is merely a shadow where nothing matters if death is not a choice. His life, now untouchable, has no worth.

His heart thinks it's because she's gone. The arrow in his heart shrieks in glee.

His life speeds up in a whirlwind and, another set of years later, Gladion sees her again. She is buying fruits in the market, smiling at what she has in her hands. She looks just as happy as he remembers her.

The infatuated sigh he lets out is met with a shriek of disgust from his own mind.

Gladion walks to her. He has a thousand words in his throat and a lifetime to tell. His lips part. She hasn't noticed he is there. It's as if he was a ghost to her.

That's when Gladion realizes that, while he knows everything about her, he is only a stranger. His glee dries.

She seems to notice she has been there for long. His figure tenses up, suddenly nervous, and he looks at her with pure unbidden curiosity. "Who are you?"

Gladion is at a loss of words. Who is he to her, indeed? What was he other than her shadow? He is unsure of what to say. Maybe he has forgotten how to say his own name, after being alone for so long. Maybe he is nobody.

He tries. "My name is Gladion."

Moon doesn't utter a word. The name is unfamiliar in her mind, yet he looks at her with the softness of a loving husband. It's deep as the ocean. For a second, she feels like she might drown.

She swallows his seas, his eyes, and his will; she waves. "Take care."

She's gone.

Gladion finds himself joyful, for he had gotten her attention after a century. His heart, pierced by an unwithering arrow, writhes in pleasure. He drinks from her voice. He waits for her move.

The rain only comes once more.

And it's for her funeral.

Gladion watches the procession from a withering tree. His figure, hunched over, is the only one dressed in beautiful white as he watches her casket be carried through the streets.

He doesn't get to see his face once more. Her body disappears and gets lost in a sea of people.

The wastes of war leave a scar in the people. Her face is removed from family portraits. Her family's clan withers to nothing but a memory. Gladion watches places change. The trees shed leaves as he sheds his tears. He lost her again.

When he tries to leap off a building, the pain merely amuses him. It cracks the concrete. It barely scratches his skin.

He has to leave again.

His skin is just as pale as frost. His lips are bluer than the deepest ocean. Sunsets have no color. His blood dries. He is as lively as a puppet. The ring of her voice is committed to memory. It's unnaturally vivid in his head.

The only thing alive within him is her memory.

Gladion spends centuries remembering her name. Then, a voice.

"The Jewel King has bestowed his power in a newly adopted daughter, far away from the white mountains and into the lakes of the desert. They say she was washed in by dark seas."

Gladion follows the legend once more. His eyes vibrate like the wings of a butterfly. He breathes a breeze in and rolls a sigh out. Gladion walks through the gates of town at the crack of dawn.

It will be a hundred years before he finds her again.

Gladion’s feet burn through sand, but he makes it to a small village close to a thin river. The people are nice. Nobody murmurs about his bandages or the invisible weight on his shoulders.

Gladion says he is two hundred years old. People believe him.

As old as time as he is, he watches the days pass from the top of a mountain. Like a monk once said, he waits for the rain to come. Dry breezes and rings of constant war greet him.

For him, all days without her are the same. His heart clenches. He cries for her.

He is fishing in a lake when he sees her in the distance. Her hair is dripping with sparkling water. She sprays sunshine and peace anywhere she looks, anywhere she touches.

He falls in love anew. His eyes shed tears. His heart beats again.

One uncanny day, a fierce thunderstorm breaks through. The villagers find no explanation to this, yet one of them points a shaky finger at him. It had been one exact year ever since he arrived here. He was the only foreigner in a group of 100.

He is chased out of town.

Gladion finds shelter in an orange cave. It had polished walls and it was in the middle of the badlands. The hurricane and thunder throw sand at him. The gods are angry that he hasn't given up yet.

A figure runs to him.

"Hey, can I stay for a bit?"

He breathes in.

Dressed in rough robes and dirty shoes, Moon enters the cave. Between shudders, she just makes her way in. She doesn't even bother to say hello to him. Gladion stares at her intensely. His fingers curl into fists.

"Who are you?" she asks as if he had an answer.

Her voice holds uncanny wonder, yet was edged with exhaustion. Her memory had kept his whimsical ring as if it was gold. It wasn't new to him, yet it never got any older. Just like himself.

"My name is Gladion," he answers. His voice is rough and airy. His heart has stopped beating.

His voice, unlike anything she had heard before, has the clarity and softness of the richest of gemstones. His skin was pale like snow she had never seen. Her eyes waver. "I see."

Shortly after, they sleep. Gladion had long forgotten how to do it, but with him by her side, it's easy.

He almost hears her walk away. The storm is fierce. She has had enough shelter, and she is ready to go home again. A farewell lingers in the air.

She never makes it back to the cave, nor to the village.

Gladion doesn't stay for the funeral. There was no corpse, and he was not wanted there.

He is gone.

Gladion stumbles with the remains of a civilization as old as time, maybe just as old as he is. There is a shrine in the middle of the forest, between vines and dewy leaves and creatures nipping at his pants.

His hands hold no wrinkles, but with the experience of a monk, he traces the engravings on the wall.

A daughter from the night, born from the dust of royalty. Gladion doesn't need to read more. He follows the traces of hope and swallows his tears. Maybe if he doesn't cry, it won't rain again.

Perhaps the rain would wash his misery away.

Gladion crosses deserts. He walks on water. He falls off a canyon and he climbs the way up. His nails are full of grime, his hair is muddy. He hasn't had food for days.

A step in the wrong direction.

Knowingly, he lets his body be carried by the waters of a river down Mount Coronet.

He arrives at a nation where the king is a star and people use umbrellas when it is not raining. A creature rests in a high mountain, the god of creation. Maybe, this would be the place where peace would enter his heart.

For once, he is hopeful. The town is sunny, the waters are warm. Nobody notices him.

Gladion finds entertainment in helping other people with their homes and duties. Occupied with Moon, he had never had time to learn how to cook, clean, or sow.

So he cleans, he cooks, he sleeps. He overworks himself until the only escape is slumber.

Gladion is one day called to the royal court. A man with tall hair and weird shoes makes him grovel to his feet. His energies are drained. His clothes are tattered. His heart holds no resistance.

The man's jacket gleams in gold, and he has a baton, yet he must not be older than 30. "I appoint you to work for us." His voice fills the marble room. "I trust you to provide for my beautiful daughter."

A girl with midnight dark hair steps into the room, her posture stoic. She only spares him a silent look. For him, however, it's the only time he can finally breathe.

Gladion works for the royal family for the following years. While he had been told he would work especially for Moon, the heir to the throne, he never sees her.

A hundred men come to court her. Each hurts more than the last. He smothers his frustration in the linen pillows.

Expensive belongings surround him. He has a fancy room. In the past, Gladion had been surrounded by poverty and no hopes. He now sleeps under feather duvets and while the place is dirty, it resembles a home far more than anything else.

The castle becomes a family in his heart.

One day, Gladion is appointed with helping Moon, the future queen of the nation. She must take a bath and he had been injured while going hiking with her friends. She is on her tiptoes as she walks in.

She looks just like he remembered her. Her image is burnt between his eyes. Innocent despite his true age, he turns while she sinks into the waters.

Gladion memorizes the shape of her shoulders as he caresses her skin.

It would be the last time.

That day transpired in silence between them. Gladion, expectantly, looks out the window. The sun is gleaming. People wear their umbrellas. Moon has smooth skin and her body is warm despite her name.

He remembers these details for years to come.

It is a week afterward that a sudden outbreak of sickness spreads through the town. The streets are dirty and the waters turn dark. There is a smell of dull death hanging from the winds and the stars don't come out ever again.

The streets panic, the king waits. Gladion prays. Arceus awakens from its chamber.

Gladion doesn't go down with this illness.

Moon does.

When the palace is shaken by panic, Gladion offers himself to take care of the princess while the family is escorted away from the town. The streets are suddenly empty. Umbrellas are scattered on the cobblestone streets.

Gladion spends nights and days by her side. In silence.

It seems like anywhere he goes, tragedy strikes. The itch stabs its claws into his heart, and all he wants is for the pain to go away. The girl is dying in her own bed. Her breathing is shallow; her touch, faint.

If he could take the pain to suffer it himself, gods know he would.

Her fevers come and go, yet her health never gets better. Soon enough, all maids have left the castle and disobeyed their king. The big and once flamboyant town is completely empty, sans the two of them in the depths of the palace.

Moon thrashes in her sleep. He curses silently.

Usually, Moon would spend the days in bed, looking out the window silently. Gladion would respect her silence and watch with her. She never made any questions. He is content with that.

Even in sickness, his heart throbs in her company. He sheds tears. He loves her.

One day, she breaks the silence. Her voice is ragged, but he recognizes it all the same. Even in a crowd of people, he would always hear her the loudest. "Who are you?"

Gladion loses his breath at this. For a moment, he thinks he is sick. But he knows: he is just in love.

The response comes easy. It's been a thousand years, yet he still remembers his name. His and hers are the only thing he knows to exist. "My name is Gladion."

She stares at him in disbelief. A foreign flash crosses her eyes, and she frowns for a second. He holds his breath.

She looks at him. Sharp features, hair like platinum and unevenly cut. He looks tired and older than she knows him to be. His shoulders sag. Why is he here, she wonders. Her throat can't form words, and when she tries, she coughs out.

Her hand is marred with blood.

Gladion watches her fall into a deep slumber, whatever she was about to say dying with her voice. For a moment, she looks calm. He watches her for hours, he thinks that maybe she is getting better. The air outside is unsafe. This little room is their haven.

He watches her sleep.

The day afterward, he has fallen asleep on his chair. The bed is empty. It's raining outside.

Her royal band is washed by the Seine's shore. Gladion is the only person in the town. He has no umbrella.

The rain muffles his sobs as he hugs the cloth to his chest.

The air is full of disgrace and sickness. If he is sick, he doesn't notice. The idea of following her to death entices him. When he tries, he can only manage to break his arm and bleed from head to toe.

The rain washes his blood and tears away.

Navigating through the ghost town, it never seems to stop raining. Her presence lingers in his hands. Her blood is fresh on his clothes. Her voice travels through the air.

The path he walks out of town through becomes a forest. His tears create rivers. His heart never stops hurting.

Gladion walks far enough from the town to make it to the sunny plains. The grass cleans his bare feet and the breeze dries his hair. The coast is washed by the sea and the foam reminds him of her clothes.

He wishes to embrace the waters and sink down. He keeps on walking.

On a little hill a few feet away from the beaten track stands a tiny shrine with a frog of gold on it. A small man is kneeling down before it, and Gladion joins. They sit in silence. Time doesn't matter to him. He has lifetimes to spare.

"Where are you headed, young man?" he asks.

He speaks yet says nothing. "Nowhere," he murmurs. "Where am I supposed to go?"

The man's figure remains calm as he speaks again. "Bid your time," he whispers, "and wait for the rain."

The sentence rings true but falls tired. When he opens his eyes, the man is gone.

Gladion arrives at a place with windmills and farms full of wheat. There is no royalty but people with ragged clothes and jagged breathing. The sun beats hard enough to make sweat break free. He likes to think he is safe here.

He doesn't know what he's chasing anymore.

He spends lifetimes, years and seasons watching the wheat grow. The windmills move slowly, days pass and she doesn't become any older. Gladion sees people die, sees children being born.

For him, it's all the same. He has no time to lose, no time to save. He waits for the rain.

One day, he hears farmers speak with hushed voices and hopeful eyes. They speak of a girl with hair like coal and eyes like the richest of black dyes. They say she is like a flower.

How does a heart beat when it knows it will be broken again?

He sobs himself to sleep.

A big carriage made of wood and metal rolls through the fields. It's sunny outside. Gladion stays in for the whole day. He peeps at her from the barn's top window, where he sleeps. She is young and free. He doesn't step any closer.

He likes to think he is saving her this way.

One day when it's raining, Gladion steps out of his barn to collect some crops, lest they are washed away by the storm. From the fog and the rain, he sees a girl hurrying to him. He stares. He should be surprised.

He isn't.

"Can I stay in that shed for a while? It's raining cats and dogs."

The rain is ignored by him. It slides down his smooth cheeks and his clothes. It soaks him to the core. It masks his tears. He nods wordlessly and allows her to walk in. She eagerly runs inside the barn.

As soon as she is inside, she sits on top of hay blocks. Gladion climbs up to his makeshift home at the top of the barn. He watches her from the edge of the platform.

She notices a second too late, for when she looks up, he is no longer looking down.

He curls into a ball to sleep.

Gladion pretends not to hear her leave. He pretends she doesn't fall down the hay and almost breaks her neck. He pretends not to worry. His eyes are wide and he doesn't sleep for the next ten nights. He doesn't move.

He waits for the rain to leave his little barn.

The next time he abandons his barn, Gladion finds blood near his foyer, and pieces of clothing torn on the floor. A discarded knife with blood. A trail of crimson leading to a lake somewhere he didn't know.

He didn't even get to tell her his name this time.

His heart bleeds.

Gladion one day burns the barn to the ground and donates the hay and supplies of his little house to the neighbors. They ask why he isn't taking the food with him, for it was a long way to the next town.

He thought them foolish. "I don't need it."

And he was gone.

Gladion walks miles on end for years. He crosses the snowy peaks and goes down slopes. He sleeps on trees and tries to get himself eaten by wolves for the umpteenth time. All he gets are nuzzles and gestures too kind for him to understand.

When he steps foot into another town, he feels he has been here before.

It has been a hundred years by now. The air is different and so are the people. Here, everyone has umbrellas as well, which leaves a bitter taste on the ceiling of his mouth.

However, it's always raining here. The country is circular and it’s surrounded by the sea.

He isn't sure what to think of this.

He hears that a boat is setting sail to an island full of wonders and treasures, where a new heiress with charcoal eyes is about to be born. His heart unwillingly throbs. He clutches his chest painfully.

He hears a ship sail to the shore, a beast of wood like nothing he has seen. Suddenly, his eyes whip up to meet a mane of messy dark hair directing people around. Gladion almost hears a cackle in the distance, from above him in the sky. The wood under his feet cracks.

Before he can back off the ship, somebody pushes him in and they set off to the seas.

The first night goes without a hitch. The seas are calm and the waves rock the ship peacefully. Her voice rings through the cabins once or twice, yet he finds this familiar and comforting.

He itches to go out and meet her. The distance makes his little arrow vibrate in fury.

The second night on board, nothing happens either. He remains in his little room of a bed and a box. He pretends not to hear laughter in the sea. Hearing her voice becomes more painful as dread sets in his heart.

The waves silence his cries. Nobody hears him.

He's tired.

The third night, they are halfway into the trip when a storm settles in. He wakes up from his sleep in a cold sweat and he scrambles to find her. The ship rattles him around and makes him lose his balance. Water starts to leak into the ship.

He hears a brooding crack.

Gladion registers a voice screaming from somewhere above him. He is knee-deep in water and the ship is sinking, being trashed by the fierce waves. Gladion wades through the hallway and makes it to the top floor.

When his eyes find hers, euphoria swirls through his body.

But then, something happens that makes him fall on his side to the wooden floor. Rain digs on his skin and he fights to get up again, only to see half the crew fall off-board. Moon is holding onto the boat by its edge and Gladion is slipping off to a side.

Gladion and Moon meet whilst holding onto the ship. The rest of the people have fallen to the demise of the dark seas and the wind silences all screams of despair. In the midst of chaos, their eyes meet. Hers are soft. She musters a weak smile.

It almost brings him hope.

The rain mats down her hair when she speaks. She is ragged, she is tired, but tears prickle at his eyes because he loves it all the same. "Who are you?" she almost screams. She is squirming to get a grip.

He lets himself be toyed by the wind. Her shoulders are shaking, he notes. Her voice is wobbly and overcome with fear. He doesn't bother to conceal the tremors in his own voice, either.

He tells her his name for the hundredth time. "My name is Gladion." It rolls off his tongue with no less complication than before.

He stares at her in silence. They forget about the storm.

A harsh wave, timed perfectly, comes to collect its wastes. A crack suddenly divides the space between them and a wave comes to swallow the remains of the ship.

Gladion blinks his tears away and the air between them becomes unbearable. It feels like goodbye already.

He wants to tell her that he loves her. That he wishes to have another minute to tell her about all he has gone through to be with her. That it has been a thousand years. That he loves her.

He screams.

The dark waters swallow his pleas and they disappear under the foamy chaos.

Days pass. Gladion surfaces and survives the catastrophe. Debris of wood, clothing and the dawn of the nightmare only remain. He weakly hangs on to the biggest piece he can find.

Moon never makes it out alive.

He lets himself die on the sea.

Gladion feels the waters move him. Silence gawks at him and sometimes, sharks keep him company. At some point, he just lets go of the wooden debris and floats astray.

He stares at the sun, hoping it will burn him alive.

It's been a thousand and twenty-two years.

It comes to the point one day, he reaches a shore. It's full of boats and people with umbrellas carry him to the city. He is washed in by the waves and he hears of a queen and of a god. None of them matter to him.

His fingers itch to feel her. He can still hear her voice.

Gladion is fed and brought to shape soon enough, despite his protests. He finds out it's been almost a year since he left the shore. He had been astray for months. He never starved.

It came to the point he could only feel mourning and love at the same time.

When the memory of her haunts him into tears again, Gladion leaves the city full of caring people, chasing after his own dream with crazed devotion.

He reaches a country made of rivers, green like spring and with mountains in the north cold as ice. Not even frostbite makes a dent in his determination, and he continues walking.

In due time, Gladion stumbles with a big town full of people. He had never seen such a crowd in one sole place. It was stuffed, almost, as if the whole world was there, and they were walking forward.

He hears someone say this was an event to change history. Gladion follows the crowd.

There is a creature on a podium and people are cheering, the animal shrieking and its deer-like horns sparkling. Pale as a ghost, he blends into the crowd and he feels like he is underwater. His feet carry him through the plaza and he ends up crashing with a stair to the podium.

Somebody helps him up. It's not raining.

The creature on the podium sees him and the sight seems to light its eyes up, for it eagerly pushes her to the podium and the creature nuzzles the small microphone. The blue in its body is like the color of her dress, of the sky above him.

Before so many people, his bleeding heart aimlessly searches for pale and dark. All he sees is the green of the mountains behind the city.

It is not raining, he notices. His eyes blink after what seemed like a century. His fingers curl around the microphone and he doesn't know how it works, yet his heart seems to be pumping faster and that creature’s noises are soft and familiar.

It is sunny as crisp summer.

He has a crowd with every year of his life's worth. They stare at him in silence. They hold their breath, and he holds his. His beloved could be there. She doesn't know his name. The whole world seems to be there today.

He is suddenly terrified of what he is about to say.

He apologizes to her in silence and speaks out loud after a decade of silence and mourning. His voice is shaky. It has been a thousand years of pain and silence. Gladion loves her. He needs her. He doesn't want her to die today.

"My name is Gladion," he speaks clearly. He sighs.

His shoulders shake but before the creature can approach him, Gladion takes the microphone with a wobbly grip. "And I know you didn't ask," Gladion hunches over. He is terrified. The worlds coil in his throat and burst to life in a wail. Tears break free. "but I have waited for a lifetime to tell you that I love you, Moon!"

The words ring sad through the plaza and he doesn't feel any lighter. He feels heavy. He can almost feel the rain coming. It feels like he has said something wrong.

A bang shoots in the air.

Screams pierce the beautiful day and guards burst from everywhere, seeking to take hold of the creature with beautiful horns. There are shots and wails of agony and splashes and bodies falling and Gladion is hurriedly taken down the podium and he can hear another creature, red like blood, screeching in the distance.

He discovers later that it is a guard that yanks him down and beats him to a pulp.

Rain falls.

Gladion swims in the darkness of the limbo. He feels nothing. Somewhere in his heart, he knows she is dead, now. The truth wraps around him and chokes him with unshed tears. He can't move. His body feels numb and he is exhausted.

Maybe one day, they will meet again.

Gladion hears that a woman with the hair of obsidian at the west of the country had taken over the government. The sole notion pushes him through the mourning after he comes to life from slumber. Gladion walks away from the town at dusk.

He crosses the country for years to find her again. He takes a ferry. He reaches a sunny island dotted by more islands and more sea.

He doesn't know how much time has passed since he left, yet one day he finds himself not knowing where to go. Suddenly, he is crossing a snowy mountain and his heart doesn't feel heavy. He feels nothing at all.

What is he doing? Why is he there?

Gladion blinks. He looks around. He doesn't know where he is nor why he is where he is. Confused, he just turns around and makes his way down the mountain, back to where he began.

His curse ends that day.

Exactly two thousand years later.

Puzzled and confused, Gladion stumbles with a small growing town. It has mountains behind it and the beach at its front. It's full of greenery and tall buildings, and flowers. He decides to stay there.

He crashes in his bed and when he wakes up, he has breakfast and reads the newspaper.

In the afternoon, Gladion walks down to the park under his building. It has a fountain and beds of flowers. He sits down on a bench with a book of Pokémon biology in his hands.

The day fleets naturally and a drop of rain falls on his shoulder.

The sun is concealed by a single cloud. Another drop falls on his leg, yet he fails to notice this.

There are steps and a weight on the bench makes it shift. A girl has sat close to him. She has hair like the night and eyes akin to steel, and she is staring at him in a way he can't describe.

Gladion looks at her blankly. She still looks at him and he blinks between her and the book.

Confused, he decides to ask. "Who are you?"

A flash crosses her eyes at his question and she is quick to respond. "My name is Moon."

She says her name breathily. Rain hits her nose.

Gladion hears thunder and he hurries to get home, muttering an apology she never responds to and she instantly regrets.

As he leaves, Moon's shoulders sink and tears drip down her eyes as she sits in the rain. Her face is buried in her hands.

She wishes she could drown her love and pain away.

[werewolfdays]

snippet-

ok i’d go so far as to say this is a snippet more than a drabble. really wanted to write a werewolf fight and quite liked it so why not post it. also has Nayda’s reaction to seeing Jayde kill someone for the first time. all in Nadya’s pov and here’s a song rec  

I retreated to the far corner of the living room, scrambling backward on the ground. There were multiple lacerations that had started bleeding from me being pushed through the sliding glass door. One in particular was screaming at me more than the rest. I could feel there was a chunk of glass buried in the back of my shoulder, but I couldn’t think about that right now. The massive grey wolf approaching me, snarling and preparing to pounce was where all of my focus was.

The wolf stalked forward and I knew I had no chance. I was caught off guard, weaponless, cornered, bleeding. The odds were definitely against me. Was this it? After everything I was going to have my throat ripped out by a werewolf in an abandoned house, hundreds of miles away from home and even further from the life I used to have.

Like a last minute miracle, Jayde came bounding around the corner in her wolf form. At the sight of me and my condition I saw fury burn in her golden eyes. The grey wolf hesitated when he saw her which gave her enough time to firmly place herself in front of me. A moment of relief washed over me. I had every faith that Jayde could handle this situation, but I also became scared of what I was about to see.

Jayde started to growl. I’ve heard dogs growl. I’ve heard big dogs growl. But nothing compared to the deep, threatening rumble coming from the white wolf in front of me. It was menacing in every sense of the word and seemed to vibrate the air around her. The sound activated something primal within me. A shiver went down my spine and every instinct I had told me to run. I couldn’t even imagine what it must feel like to be on the receiving end of it.

The hostile werewolf took a couple steps back, instinctually bowing his head. I hoped that he was surrendering, but then he shook his snout with an indignant snort, baring his teeth in a challenge. Jayde’s body tensed, as he began to pace in front of us. The loud snarl of frustration echoed through the empty house as he sized Jayde up and looked for an opening. I wasn’t sure who would make the first move. I remained completely frozen, enthralled by the display in front of me and held my breath in anticipation.

I wasn’t sure what set her off. Maybe she saw something I didn’t; the twitch of a muscle, intent in his eyes. Or maybe she just grew impatient; her rage reaching a boiling point with the scent of my blood surely filling the room. Perhaps it was all of those things. Either way, in the blink of an eye, Jayde shot forward to attack.

Jayde slammed into the other wolf so hard that she knocked the both of them into the wall. The drywall caved in like paper, the impact shaking half of the house. Both wolves became a ferocious blur as they traded blows, their battle moving towards the kitchen. It was brutal and violent and soon I caught the glint of blood on the tiled floor. I just sat there like a terrified idiot, unable to do anything but watch.

The male wolf managed to get Jayde beneath him. He went for her neck, biting down and shaking his head to rip through her. My heart stopped at the high pitched whimper she let out. I had to do something. Searching my surroundings for anything I could use, I spotted a large jagged piece of glass lying on the floor from the broken door. I scrambled up and grabbed it. The edges would surely slice through my palm if I gripped it any tighter, but I would need to if I had a clear shot.

By the time I turned to go to Jayde’s aid, she had already escaped from the other wolf’s grasp. Crimson stained her snow white fur in a few places now and the other wolf looked just as rough. His back was to me. If Jayde distracted him I could make a move.

They seemed completely preoccupied with each other to notice me so I silently made my way towards him, the piece of glass raised and ready in my hand. The tension and fear in my body made me grip it harder than I intended to yet. I could feel it cut through the skin, but I had to ignore it. I also had to ignore the blatant danger I was putting myself in. Not just my life, my humanity was at stake. All it would take was one bite, a little of either of their blood to get into one of my open wounds to turn me. Was I prepared for that possibility?

Jayde noticed me approach, panic flashing across the wolf’s features. She barked at me in a clear warning to stay away and the noise was startling enough to make me stop in my tracks. Our foe didn’t bother to check over his shoulder to see what Jayde was barking at. He took the opportunity my unintentional distraction offered to strike at her again.

They sped off once more, tangled mess of gnashing teeth and furious growls. I wasn’t sure what to do. There was no way to get to the werewolf attacking her without getting in the middle of all that. Even if I did, I realized I would just do more harm than good. Jayde would be distracted by trying to keep me alive and that would surely get her killed. It would get both of us killed.

Frustrated, I threw the piece of glass down and tried to track their movements while staying out of the way. Jayde could handle this, I knew she could. I just had to stay out of her way no matter how badly my heart screamed against it.

The two wolves broke apart again. Their hard breaths filling the eerie silence as they circled each other. Jayde’s terrifying growls sounded again in a last warning to the other wolf. This fight was far too progressed for either of them to stand down. They both knew it. I knew it. Only one of them would get out of this alive. A huge part of me didn’t want anything to do with the scene before me. The thought of watching the end to this made me want to puke. But I wouldn’t leave Jayde.

In a shocking burst of speed, Jayde leapt forward and toppled her adversary off balance. With deadly accuracy, her jaws clamped down on his throat. She used the leverage she had to force him down while increasing the pressure to cut off his air. The grey wolf thrashed beneath her in a desperate attempt to free himself, but Jayde’s grip was far better than his had been. His back legs clawed at her stomach, even slicing through her flesh. It was like she didn’t notice as she kept biting down with more force, a snarl ever present rumbling in her chest. The amount of pressure must have been tremendous because I suddenly heard the sickening sound of bones snapping and crunching. Jayde just crushed the other werewolf’s neck. His thrashing ceased and the wolf’s body twitched once before completely going still.

I stood there, horrified at the sight. Jayde told me she’s killed before. Even admitted to liking it sometimes. I was determined not to judge her, but hearing about the things she’s done and witnessing it in person were two completely different things. The way she just killed someone in front of me, however necessary, frightened me. I could tell the sound of his neck breaking would never leave me. He was dead and the fight was over, but Jayde still held him down. I saw a merciless brutality in her then that made me feel like I was looking at a completely different person. Jayde was capable of things that I didn’t even think to imagine before.

It was then that I remembered something she told me after she revealed herself to be a werewolf, “I’m not interested in being a monster. At least not to people like you.”

When she finally released her death grip on the dead wolf, Jayde looked up at me. The expression on my face must have conveyed what I was feeling because I actually saw her look guilty. Jayde looked down at the body, then back up at me like she realized exactly what she did right in front of me. She took a couple tentative steps towards me and without thinking I took a step back. In and effort to not seem threatening, Jayde lowered her head submissively. A quiet whine sounded and while keeping her body low she tried to move towards me again.

This time I let her because I felt bad. It was hardly fair considering she just saved my life. I understood why she did what she did, but it was still jarring. Something about seeing someone commit an act that I could never imagine doing myself was visceral. Jayde had so many sides to her that I have gotten to know. She had walls, but she was kind and vulnerable. She was hard and damaged, but she was gentle too. This was a side I haven’t seen. If I wanted to move forward from this I would have to accept that part of her that scared me.

The white wolf reached me, head bowed in shame. Careful not to touch any of her wounds I reached out with a trembling hand and placed my uninjured palm to her forehead. Jayde leaned into my accepting hand, silently thanking me for it. I pulled my hand away and casted one more glance to the dead wolf.

“We should go.” I murmured. “I want to go.” I knew that both of us needed some sort of medical attention, but I couldn’t be in the presence of that body any longer.

Jayde huffed in agreement and disappeared around the corner into one of the rooms. A few minutes passed and she returned in her human form, fully clothed. She must have left her clothes in one of the rooms when she turned. I could see the blood from her injures was already staining her shirt, but she didn’t seem at all concerned about it. The bite on her neck was what I was most worried about and now I could see that the werewolf’s aim had been off. His teeth sank more into her shoulder that her neck; a deep gash ran across her collarbone.

“I’ll be fine.” Jayde said somberly when she noticed I was staring. I saw that the back of her hand was wiping at her mouth and I thought maybe she had a split lip or something, but shortly realized she was wiping his blood off her mouth and chin.

I had to force myself not to shy away when she came up to me again. At least I recognized her this time. She was bruised and bloodied, which was a sight that I begrudgingly grew familiar with. Jayde’s expression was a mix of deep concern and guilt as she studied me carefully. I could see the internal battle she struggled with, unsure of her boundaries right now.

“Are you okay?” She eventually asked, looking at me with pain in her eyes.

It was then that I fully remembered my pain, “I will be. I just want to leave.”

“Okay.” Jayde nodded, not really making eye contact with me. “Come on.”

Hours passed before she really spoke to me again. We carefully patched each other up with hardly any words between us besides the apologies Jayde gave when she pulled the chunk of glass out of my shoulder. She would barely even look at me. But four hours on the road, deep into nighttime, she finally said something.

“You’re scared of me now.” Her eyes didn’t leave the road in front of her.

I looked at her for a minute or so, trying to think of what to say. “I don’t know, Jay.”

“I would never hurt you.” Jayde said quietly.

“It’s not that.” I told her. I knew she would never hurt me. I wasn’t exactly sure what I was so afraid of when I saw what she did, but I couldn’t help how it made me feel.

“Do you think I’m a monster?” Her tone made the question almost sound like a child had asked it.

I took a while to contemplate that. While Jayde’s ability to be brutal and violent disturbed me, I still couldn’t fully bring myself to think of her as a monster. The way she treated me, the people she cared about, was the furthest thing from monstrous. She was unconditional in her love and had one of the biggest hearts I have ever seen. And the situation we just went through wasn’t her fault at all. Jayde put her life on the line to protect me. The other werewolf didn’t give her a choice.

Taking a deep sigh to release all the bad energy I was feeling, I answered honestly, “No, I don’t. That werewolf that tried to kill us; he was the monster. You protected me. You saved me.”

I actually saw Jayde’s muscles relax in relief and felt even more bad. She didn’t deserve the cold shoulder I had been giving her. In not saying anything until now, I realized she was giving me space and time to process. I could only imagine how hard that must’ve been for her. Not knowing if I would accept her or fully reject her.

“I’m sorry you had to see that.” Jayde finally looked at me, eyes glinting with tears.

My eyes didn’t leave hers. “Don’t be. I understand why you have to do those things sometimes and I don’t blame you. I trust you. I trust that you do what you have to do.”

Jayde turned her attention back to the road and nodded. Even though she relaxed somewhat I could tell that she was still holding something back. Seeing her grip loosen and tighten on the steering wheel, I realized that usually by now she would have reached for me in some way. The fact that she hadn’t told me that she still thought her usual boundaries were closed off. They weren’t. I wanted her to feel comfortable with me again. After all, this was torture for me too.

Silently I reached my hand out, palm up in an invitation. Jayde glanced at it, then at me, unsure of what I wanted. I gave her a small nod. It’s okay. I want you to.

Hesitantly, like she thought I would change my mind, Jayde’s palm fit against mine. I laced our fingers together and smiled at the feeling. Finally, I was starting to feel better about the past day’s events. I could handle it. I could accept Jayde in her entirety. She was scared I couldn’t, but I did despite both of our fears. Isn’t that what love is?

[carumens]

sunflowers at night snippet: valba’s and gerah’s first real convo

longer excerpt because i wrote literally 0 words on the first day of nano (this is self-indulging i know). just a tip, listen with the song i linked because it captures the mood perfectly and it’s just a song in replay in my head rn.

tagging: @kit-tells-a-story @annaalexiswrites @katabasiss @omgbrekkerkaz@aetheriium @sleepyscribbling @katherinescribbles @naturallysweetnloaded@maskedlady @writing-kimmi @endymions @chellewrites @the-ichor-of-ruination @breakingpointwip @cosmo-worlds @theforgottencoolkid @florhiver@jess—writes @nexiliss @easypreywip @brekkerings@saintephemeral @crimescenedwrites 

https://youtu.be/OtFRcJpzEwA

Gerah Mayham was a strange creature. Spoiled only child born rich who felt irrationally wretched for having to wear slacks and dress shoes all the time. His whining was a silent one, never a word of discomfort leaving his mouth in front of his parents, the only sign of his restlessness being the sullen looks he sent his own clothes. Apparently, he’d declared war on using more than one type of fork when eating and was often reprimanded by Mrs. Mayham because there are different types of cutlery for a reason, Gerah.

Valba had discovered a heap of ragged hoodies, ripped jeans and battered sneakers behind a thorny bush that was far away enough from the house to be considered out of bounds from her jurisdiction, but the Mayham was nowhere to be found and she didn’t want to lose her job on the first day. Well, maybe she wouldn’t mind losing that particular job, but her father wouldn’t be happy if she did. Valba picked up one of the shaggy tee shirts and crinkled her nose at the mud and grass stains covering the white fabric. So it’s true, she thought.

A rumor had been circulating the village for some years now, that Gerah Mayham bought old almost-rubbishy clothes from the boys in the village, seemingly oblivious to their curious and sometimes enraged expressions when he approached them to offer money for their rags. Because he only bought rags, the kind Valba wore to work on the land or Tom Sanders used the days he had to clean the stables. She didn’t give too much credit to the gossip always pumping through Romello but from time to time a rumor was in fact a truth, and it seemed this was one of those times.

Valba sighed, dropped the muddled shirt and turned around, a hand coming up to shade her eyes as she scanned the vast green expanse surrounding Mayham Manor. She could see the gravel path that led to the village, the same path she had taken a few days ago to officially meet the Mayhams before she got hired— “Just a formality, love, I already talked to Mrs. Mayham myself,” her mother had said. “But it’d be good if you went by and presented yourself to them.” Behind Mayham Manor, the world looked like a crazy puzzle, as if a god couldn’t quite decide if he wanted a prairie or a forest, irregular patches of green and yellow grass suddenly cut out by a stubborn of high pine trees. Just like that, no gradualism, no creeping appearance of bushes and trees, just a sudden firm line separating the meadow from the woods—an ovation to saltationism.

There weren’t any more places where Gerah Mayham could have gone. Valba had looked everywhere, every room inside labyrinthic Mayham Manor, every crevice and potential hiding place in the immense garden. Five minutes, that’s what it had taken her to go to the bathroom, five minutes and Gerah was nowhere to be found. He tends to disappear, Mrs. Mayham had said, just keep an eye on him, he has a few health problems. That was her job: easy, simple, less demanding than she had thought it would be. When she arrived at the Mayhams a few days before, she thought she would be working as maid, cleaning endless halls and airing mattresses so they’d be soft and fresh for their rich Mayham owners, or maybe in the kitchen, struggling to cook French and Italian dishes she had not once in her life heard about. In actuality, her job revolved about one simple task: babysitting Gerah Mayham.

“Not babysitting,” Gerah had huffed when she had asked, more out of spite than real incredulity, why would a seventeen-year-old need a nanny to babysit him.

“Not babysitting,” Mrs. Mayham had repeated, a small polite smile plastered on her shiny chocolate face. “Just keep him company. You see—” she had said, sipping from the greenish tea she had served for the three of them. “My husband has had to go back to the city, business matters, and we have decided it would be the best for me to move with him.” There was a trace of a long-gone accent in her words, a quiet slur in the way she pronounced consonants that made Valba think of straw houses and colorful dresses. “Gerah will be staying here, since the school year has already started.”

“Okay,” had said Valba.

“It would be most convenient if you moved here,” Mrs. Mayham had looked at her intently while she spoke. “Not if you do not want to, of course.” Valba knew it was an essential condition for her to get the job, an order, even if it didn’t sound like one.

“What?” Gerah had jerked from the velvety sofa he had been tightly sitting in so suddenly that he dropped the cup of tea he was holding. “You didn’t say anything about her moving in, mom!”

“Well, your dad and I decided it only this morning.”

“But—” he looked at Valba, golden eyes almost popping out of his sockets. “That doesn’t make any sense!”

“Go change, Gerah, will you?” Mrs. Mayham’s smile looked murderous. “And call Sonya, you have made quite a mess here.”

Then Gerah had walked out of the room, seemingly calm, but Valba could see the clenching in his fists and the slight change in the set of his jaw.

Valba took off her faded espadrilles, dropped them beside Gerah’s puddle of second-hand clothes and started trotting through the high grass towards the clean line of pine trees, her feet feather-light on the dry mud. She loved the feeling of nature pressing against the soles of her feet, memories of infantile eternal summer days threading through the forest, Mark close on her heels, his too-big hands for a nine-year-old threatening with grabbing her and throwing her to the Chrysalis River. Not that being thrown to the river was too big of a trauma—winters were warm in Romello and summers were full-time furnace-hot— but it felt good knowing that not even racy Mark Marks could beat her in speed.

The forest surrounding northern Romello was a strange one: an aleatory turmoil of pines and oaks and weeping willows and wildflowers in every shade and color, bees and wolves and snakes that hid themselves in the fresh foliage, butterflies and rhinoceros beetles and poison ivy, a mind-blowing mix of polar opposites that made Romello seem a little bit more interesting for Valba. The Chrysalis River ran through it, a marvelous stream of crystal clear water and tiny colored fish that shone metallic in the sunlight.

She entered the forest, twigs and sticks snapping under the hardened feet, fingers stopping briefly to caress the bark of a tree or pull at her cotton t-shirt when it got tangled up in a low branch. It didn’t take her too long to find Gerah Mayham sprawling at the edge of the river, trousers rolled up to his knees and feet deep into the glassy Chrysalis’ water and his usually perfectly-combed hair a mess of charcoal tangles. A puff of smoke left his mouth, and as she approached, Valba could see a rather large pile of cigarette butts carelessly forming near the river bank.

“What are you doing?”

Gerah turned around so quickly the cigarette fell from where it was dangling on his lips. “Shit,” he said, as he picked it up before it could scorch even further his already scorched-looking jeans. “How did you find me?”

Valba arched a brow. “You haven’t gone too far.”

“Mom and Dad never found me here,” he said, taking a last drag of his cigarette and putting it out in the wet soil next to him.

“Well, then they’re not very good at looking for things,” said Valba. “Or they didn’t even try.”

Gerah frowned, his dark brows coming together in a way that didn’t seem fitting for him, not that Valba knew him a lot.

“What are you doing?”

“Are you going to tell me not to smoke?” Said Gerah, a tense set to his jaw that seemed somehow out of place for him. Valba didn’t know Gerah Mayham at all, but she remembered punching him in the face, and not even then had he seemed the littlest bit aggressive. He looked different now, she realized, not only because of his haggard looks, but for the vibrating aura around his posture, a wild animal prepared to jump.

“No, your lungs are yours to fuck,” she said. “I’m only gonna tell you not to put off your cigarettes here, because as surprising as it may be, the forest is actually not yours to fuck.”

Gerah sent a side glance to the butt mountain in the mud. “Okay,” he said, and his shoulders sagged visibly.

Valba leaned against the nearest tree and slid down, the rough bark scratching her skin, her bare feet creating muddy indents in the fresh soil. There was something, Valba didn’t quite know what, about the stillness of the forest that calmed down even the roughest of her edges, all thoughts about her life debt to Gerah Mayham almost forgotten. It was such a contrast with the bustling life inside the village, all whispers and shouts and overload of information.

“I don’t need you monitoring me,” said Gerah, his iridescent eyes trained on her.

Valba held his gaze. “Your parents seem to differ on that matter,” she said.

“Fuck you, you don’t need to be here.”

“Actually, I do. Because I need the money. Not that I expect you to understand what need is.”

Gerah dropped his eyelids, white teeth coming out to chew on his lower lip. He started fiddling with the cigarette butts, and Valba thought she could see something changing in him. His shoulders relaxed, and he leaned slightly backwards to rest on his elbows, the edges of his coal-rimmed lashes softening into something akin to curiosity. Suddenly, he was the dumbstruck boy that had stuttered at her a year before all over again, when she punched him in the face after he pushed her off the road and weakly demanded a “thank you” in exchange.

“Were you born here in Romello?” He asked, and Valba felt, much to her dismay, her own eyebrow raising in amusement.

“Born and raised,” she answered.

He looked at her, expectant, as if waiting for Valba to ask something to him in return, and frowned slightly, his nose furrowing childishly, when he realized it wasn’t happening anytime soon.

“I was born here, too,” he said. “But mom’s from Spain. I’d like to go visit someday.”

Valba knew the story: young handsome and promising Nicholas Mayham made an extremely important business trip to Seville where he fell desperately in love with young intelligent and exotic Nerea Murillo, who worked as a touristic guide to pay for her university fees. They married, moved to the United States of America, and after some very happy and dreamy years of marriage, decided to have a child and raise him in the quiet tranquility and safety of a lost village in the mountains, far from America and its cardiac-arresting life. Fairytale-like.

She could almost picture Nerea Mayham in her younger years, caffeinated skin glistening under the Andalusian sun the same way Gerah’s did under the stray rays that perforated the shady canopies of Romello’s forest.

“Your name’s not Spanish, though.” She said. “Nor English.”

Gerah looked up at her from where he was fiddling with the fallen foliage. “No, actually, it means something in Javanese, but it’s not supposed to be a name?” he said. “But they let you name your children however you want nowadays so…”

Valba frowned. “Why Javanese?”

Gerah shrugged. “Mom thought it was fancy.” He shrugged again, as it to clarify that he did not think it was fancy at all. Valba hated to agree with him.

“What does it mean?”

Gerah stared at her, a moment too-long for his ever-shifting gaze. “I don’t know.”

“That’s a lie,” said Valba, leaning forward.

“It’s not,” he said, his eyes stubbornly trained on Valba’s muddy bare feet.

“It is, how would you know it wasn’t supposed to be a name—”

“What do you care?” Gerah bristled, a flash of the boy Valba had found aggressively smoking next to the river some minutes earlier.

Valba leaned back again. “I don’t,” she said.

[edo-salandria]

FanFic: SENSORY OVERLOAD

SUMMARY: Natsu and Lucy have been targeted. A mysterious tattoo appears on both of them that changes their relationship in ways they could never have imagined.

RATED: M

AUTHOR’S NOTE: Also can be read on: https://www.fanfiction.net/s/12234990/1/Sensory-Overload  (Up to Chapter 16)

Prologue ; Chapter 1 ; Chapter 2 ; Chapter 3 ; Chapter 4 ; Chapter 5 ; Chapter 6 ; Chapter 7 ; Chapter 8 ; Chapter 9 ; Chapter 10 ; Chapter 11 ; Chapter 12 ; Chapter 13 ; Chapter 14 ; Chapter 15 ; Chapter 16

 CHAPTER 8

'I'm getting sick of this shit. If these people weren't family I would pound their faces into next week. What gives them a right to talk about her like that.' Natsu followed the path leading away from the guild hall with no real idea of where he would go. He played the incidents over in his head 'Freed thinks I'm a idiot, hell, everyone thinks I'm a damned idiot… Hah, like I don't know what a woman is, I know more about the women in this guild then any of those horny bastards. They're the idiots who get their asses handed to them when they're too stupid to know when to steer clear.' Natsu snickered to himself as he walked to the eastern edge of the city still lost in his thoughts.

'You know what, the girls aren't any different. If only the guys knew what those ladies talk about. Maybe the Master should install a fresh pantie dispenser in the women's room. Hell, while he's at it he could install a used pantie dispenser in the guy's room and friggin' recycle.' The cold wind picked up a bit but Natsu barely felt the chill, he was too angered and frustrated to feel it. He continued to follow the path into the woods knowing it would eventually lead him home. 'And then there is Lucy, that woman will be the death of me. She thinks I haven't figured this out, that I couldn't handle knowing. Maybe she is the dense one who doesn't understand love. Why has she been hiding her feelings for me, I just don't understand. Ya I know she has always been physically attracted to me, she could never deny that without lying. The smell of her gives everything away. But why hide any of it?' The truth of it was that he was tuned into her heady scent of amber and vanilla with a little bit of something that reminded him of the forest, it told him everything he needed to know. When to give her space, when to have Mira make chicken soup for the colds she was on the brink of getting, and even when to leave chocolate covered shortbread in her cupboard before she even realized she craved them.

Natsu's train of thought was broken up by the sound of a growl just at the path's bend up ahead of him. "Well hey there, sounds like you wanna play!" Natsu squinted to see what kind of beast was behind the low growl. Out from the undergrowth stalked a single wolf, eyes glaring yellow. As if on cue the Dragon Slayer's hand fisted up and effortlessly produced brilliant flames. He could feel the fire spread through him like a wave of calmness that focused his scattering thoughts and emotions. For Natsu the destructive behavior of combat was what made him feel at peace. It was how he learned to cope with his troubles, his magic soothed him and quieted his mind and that is just what he needed at the moment, a good fight. Natsu and the wolf were assessing each other and for every growl the wolf made he returned it in kind. They stalked around each other waiting for the other to initiate the fight. The wolf started baring teeth and in an instant lunged at Natsu. The beast let out a yelp when he landed a solid blow the wolf's chest as he twisted out of the way. The dance continued for a while, he could have ended it quickly but he need the fight, he was focused. So much so that he didn't even sense Happy flying at mach speed toward him.

"STOOOOP! YOU'RE HURTING LUCY!" at the sound of Lucy's name Natsu whipped his head around toward Happy's voice from behind him. Before he could respond the wolf took the opportunity and charged Natsu. Heeding Happy's warning he stopped using his magic and instead used sheer physical power to wrestle the wolf. He met Happy's eyes quickly with a look that told the cat he needed to elaborate and fast "SHE CAN FEEL YOUR FLAMES". It was at that moment the wolf decided to bite into his forearm that was protecting his neck.

Lucy watched through blurry eyes as the cat raced off to find Natsu. She laid on the ground trying to focus and take control of her situation. 'I am not actually on fire… this is just a ghost of his magic.' Despite the searing pain she felt in her hand and throughout her body she eventually managed to rise from the ground and slowly get herself standing upright again 'I have to find that idiot and tell him to stop before I melt from the inside out!' she stumbled at first trying to compose herself. Gingerly she made her way to the forest edge and into the woods, she knew she was going the same direction as Natsu and then Happy since she could smell their scents intermingled. As she started moving a little more easily she finally felt the intense burning heat die out in her body. She was only momentarily relieved because no sooner did she let out her sigh of relief the she felt a very sharp and very intense pain in her forearm. She clutched it with a painful scream and she paled at the realization that Natsu got hurt almost like something bit him she felt her adrenaline kick into high gear and she bolted toward the new scent of blood.

As Lucy rounded the corner she quickly assessed the scene before her. Natsu was wrestling a wolf and he looked like he had the upper hand despite the blood that was covering his forearm. At their back was another wolf running toward him about to attack, there was no time to call one of her spirits so she went on pure instinct and charged at the wolf and with all her weight she tackled the wolf before it could reach its intended prey. 'What the HELL was I thinking!' was all she could ask herself as she found herself tangled with a stunned wolf. She managed to scramble to a position where she could effectively kick the wolf back. Yelping at the swift kick it ran back a few hundred yard to regroup. She looked toward Natsu to find that the wolf he was wrestling was doing the same thing.

Scrambling to Natsu's side Lucy yelled toward Happy who was hovering with a dumbfounded look on his face, "GO, GET HELP AND MAKE SURE THEY BRING WENDY!" the cat snapped to attention and flew off, he was still to shocked to even reply after seeing Lucy tackle a wolf. Natsu was panting heavily and wincing at the pain in his arm when Lucy grabbed it gently to look at the wound. Throwing her and unconvincing smile "I'm fine Luce, barely a scratch" she looked into his eyes and huffed "You can't lie to me you know." He was going to retort with a snide remark but they both realized that the number of wolves cautiously surrounding them swelled from two to five. Glancing at her injured partner, she started to feel the familiar warmth building up "Natsu, don't - I can't handle the pain of you goin' all out on these guys". She felt the anger and frustration that his face reflected and rapidly tried to think of something that would beat the wolves without making Natsu feel like he couldn't protect her. She understood that it was one of his weaknesses, and he always took it very hard when he couldn't protect someone he loved and cared for. She quickly remembered the sensation she felt as they had entered the guild hall earlier and she knew the answer.

With a wide grin on her face she looked him in the eyes and raised her eyebrows a little "So, you wanna try something a little different?" Natsu looked surprised and wasn't sure what to answer but he didn't have to, Lucy started talking rapidly "Look, I am super sorry and I should have told you earlier. Our senses and emotions are linked. Remember earlier when you wanted to throw up sparkles? Ya, that was my magic you were feeling. I'm really sorry I just thought you would torture me to no end and… I'm sorry"

"Luce, what do you take me for?" a devious smile spread across his face "So wait, you get all tingly and vibrat-y when you use your magic?"

"SHUT IT, this is not the time or the place"

"Does that mean there could be?"

"Damnit Natsu - the wolves are getting closer and all you want to do is tease me?"

With perfect timing he managed a wink and responded "Always!" he paused a moment "So, does what you want to try get rid of these wolves?"

Lucy was exasperated at this point "YES now FOCUS. We can feel each other's magic right? Which means we can be in sync with it, like a Unison Raid."

"AWESOME, so what do I do?" he could barely contain his excitement at trying to use his magic in a new and unusual way.

Lucy let out a brief sigh "I don't know - but it will work. I know it will. I'll call Taurus and as I do that you focus your magic to his Axe, got it?"

Natsu nodded firmly, believing that they could pull this off. The wolves were starting to get closer and their time was running out. He watched as she made quick work of removing Taurus's key from her ring. She leaned over him and grabbed his hand lacing their fingers together. Awkwardly she tried reaching over to place the key into their joined hands. She looked over their eyes locked onto each other but neither one of them looked away. Without even thinking or breaking his gaze he wrapped his free arm around her waist and pulled her into a straddling position on his lap. Lucy flushed instantly at the compromising position and she saw it reflected back at her in his face. She looked down as he took the key from her hand and watched and slid between their connected palms. He reached back around her waist and pulled her in a little closer adjusting her weight more comfortably. He gently intertwined his fingers with hers and she gasped as she instantly felt the warm signature of his magic build and mix with the hum of her own. Her concentration broke only momentarily when she heard him suck in a deep breath as a result of him feeling the mixing of their magic.

Natsu couldn't help but stare at the beautiful woman in his lap, he was enthralled with the sensation that was snaking out from his core. The fire in his belly mixed with her ethereal hum was almost too much for him to handle. He ran through a gamut of emotions from amazement, love, devotions and lastly desire. In that moment he wanted to close the distance and and brush his lips against hers.

Lucy looked down at the man in front of her, the play of emotions she felt and saw run across his face was too much for her to handle so she shut her eyes. She could no longer be distracted and had to call her spirit before the wolves attacked. "Gate of the Golden Bull, I open

thee! Taurus". In that moment the combination of magic created vortex of wind and fire that surrounded them as the Bull started to materialized. As the initial burst of magic died down she was afraid to open her eyes, she feared that what she felt in those moments would not be reflected genuinely in her Dragon Slayer's eyes and that it was only her own feelings she experienced. She felt him pull her down closer to him she held her breath anxiously. There was a warm breath near her ear, he whispered "That was amazing." Her body's response was immediate as she felt the low familiar stirring of arousal and froze.

"Lucy you're lookin' pretty hoooot today. My axes isn't the only thing on fire for youuuuuuu." Lucy leaped to her feet and saw that Taurus's axes was glowing and engulfed in flames. She welcomed the rush of adrenaline that pushed away her embarrassment and commanded "Taurus get rid of these wolves." the oversized spirit looked over his shoulder "Anything for you miss Luuucy." As the wolves approached and lunged toward the bull they were each taken out with a swift blow from Taurus's flaming twin-headed axe. Natsu watched with envy, as the humanoid bull dispatched the wolves, the mix of fire and celestial magics made fast and easy work of it. With the last of the wolves lying at Taurus's feet he looked to Lucy with his lecherous eyes "I'm ready for my reward Miss Lucy, hows about a little smoooch?" She could only roll her eyes "Not happening you perv!" and with that Taurus's gate closed and he dematerialized.

Lucy's attention went immediately back to the wound on Natsu's arm. She knelt down in front of him grabbing a piece of his torn waistcoat, she was ready to rip a piece of fabric loose to wrap his wound "Luce, I told you I'm fine. Wendy's probably on her way so no biggie."

She went ahead and ripped a length of fabric anyway and began wrapping the gaping wound in his forearm "Ya I know, but the smell is just making me nauseous. I don't know how you ever put up with it." she gave him an almost sorrowful look "how do you even manage it all?"

"Manage what?" Natsu had knew exactly what he met but but he played dumb as always.

Lucy sighed as she was collecting her thoughts, as she was going to elaborate on her question she smelled someone coming. Quickly looking at Natsu with a questioning eye he nodded at her as if he was reading her mind and he confirmed "It's Wendy."

"Let's talk later then." Lucy looked back toward the curve in the path and saw the petite little bluenette running toward them with Happy and Carla flying closely behind. She felt a wave of relief both for the help that was coming and the distraction from answering the questions and talking about the inevitable.

[vitiusbdb]

Just Another Days Work

*I was not sure how long I had been sitting at the bar. The travel had me feeling like I was gone longer than ten years. I had already checked my emails and was waiting for someone to contact me for my next assignment. I sent all the requirements I expected with the information. I would be paid half down with the remaining balance due upon completion of the job. The most crucial part was to where the money should be electronically wired to, and that was my overseas account. I flagged the barkeep, motioning that my glass was empty and watched as he promptly rushed to fill it up. I turned watching the meat out on the dance floor. It was like any other night. Vamps and humans. Now, most the humans had no clue, but I could tell by the look of some they were all up in our game. I rose. The bass was kicking, and I could feel down in my soul. I might as well go out and find my next conquest. I had an itch. One of the many females in this place would be scratching it. Pushing my bar stool aside, I turned to see this lovely little thing walk by my place at the bar. I stood still, letting my eyes do the undressing. "Nice," I said in a low register. "White shirt and black skirt," again I said it mainly to myself. Easy access, I thought. Her scent smacked me in the face. Damn near made my cock spring to life. I sat back down and watched as she ordered two shots. Who would be joining her? I shrugged and sat back down. Now I was intrigued. I could wait for this company to show. I watched her intensely as she let her hair down falling like silk as it hit against her back. I fought to gain control over a groan that was building in my chest and adjusted myself accordingly. I started having some wicked ass thoughts of having my way with this female in the alley. I could see her on all fours with her blonde hair twisted all around my hand... Shit, I needed to fix that itch. I couldn't help but listen in on the females chat with the mixologist. Now, she was a fine specimen herself, and I suppose I could take them one at a time or even together. At this point, I was open to all suggestions. I could tell the sassy one at the bar was stood up. Shrugs, as I thought that would be one of many heartbreaks that chick would go through. She carried herself like everyone was beneath her. I didn't care. A fuck was a fuck. It was a win for me that she wasn't going to have company after all. I tapped the top of the bar with my glass to get Miss Thangs attention and order her next round until I watched her stand. I furrowed my brow and waved her off. The female was not all that steady on her feet. With lightning-fast speed, I was at her side in no time. I helped steady her. "You alright there? Can I help you with something?" I towered over her. Letting my eyes pierce hers. I suppose as a means of intimidation. "Sit down for a second and collect your thoughts." I didn't care if she had it together or not. Honestly, this was going to be my way in; I just wanted to satisfy myself. I was a dick like that.*

*I could tell right away she was a Pre-trans. Which meant I would not be having my way with her. They have such a low drive, well, the males do. In my mind, I shrugged and thought it couldn't hurt to try. Suddenly this female spoke. Oh, Fuck. She is Glymera. I could tell in the little attitude she was spitting my way. My eyes narrowed, giving her a soul-piercing look. "Barking orders?" I said in a growl. She was pissing me off now. "Look, Princess Leia" I was helping to steady her, I should just let her fall. Might teach her fucking nasty ass a lesson. She must have come from money. Why else would she be so fucking sassy? "Calm your tits Cupcake; I was being a gentleman and trying to help. Would you prefer I let you fall?" There was something familiar with this female. Like I have seen her before. I mentally shook my head because I knew that to be a lie. I just got into town. I haven't been here in a few years, and I just came back due to some...... FUCK ME! She was my next contract. I bent my head and let out a heavy sigh. I would need to delve deeper into this one before making any rash decisions. The first part of the deposit was already pending. I don't know why I was questioning this. She would be an easy kill. I could thank her alcohol consumption and the fact she hadn't transitioned yet for that. She was a high dollar one too. Don't do it, man, easy money, easy kill. 

"So, do you need a ride? I am not sure how you got here, but you are in no condition to drive." At least I could study her out some; there was no time limit. What could it hurt to snoop a bit? 

Again her voice broke through my head like a squawking bird that needed to be put out of their misery. "Fuck," I said a little louder than intended. I was going to gag this bitch. Then kill her.

Pinching the bridge of my nose trying to do the right thing at this point. I should do us all the favor and shoot this female now. I could feel my phone vibrate from the inside of my leather vest pocket. I tried to ignore the fact that is was consistent, it was like that annoying gnat you'd swat away from your face. 'well fuck' I held up one finger and turned my back, I was going to shut my phone off until I saw all the missed calls and text alerts. Dammit, the pending deposit voided and the idiots had just made her an all-out open contract. That bit of news had just become a fight for her life and wasn't going to be good. I would track down the source of the original person or persons who put out the hit, but for now, she would need to tone it down and do as I say. 'Listen, Tiger; we don't have time for all of this right now. You need to behave like a good little girl and do as I say.' I would address all her other needs later in time. I heard a commotion behind me and turned swiftly. 'Cupcake, we have company' I see at least three other hired hands checking their phones than looking up to see her. They were all salivating like wolves closing in on a piece of steak. 'Princess, we need to GO. NOW.' I slammed my hand down on the bar, making a distraction. Turning on my heels, my hand in the back of my waistband, I pulled out the weapon of my choice, at least for tonight. I let off three rounds hitting each one between the eyes. I would have to leave Jonah a hefty tip for this and pay for all the cleanup.

*Quickly I scanned the area after taking those three out. I needed to make sure I wasn't the only hired gun here. It seemed we were clear. I grabbed my shit off the bar. I turned to face this feisty Lil Minx that had a bounty on her pretty little head only to see she was flat on her butt and shutting down. "Lets GO," I yelled out. I bent over and scooped her up and tossed her over my shoulder. I did not have time to rationalize what was going on. She was in no frame of mind to follow simple instructions anyways. I gave her a firm smack on that pretty ass of hers. *Cupcake, I am going to need you to settle down some. You hear me?* I booked it out the side door, it was the closest one, and I could hide along with the shadows of the dark alley to my car. I knew I would probably play hell for that, but I needed to get her attention. The street seemed clear, and I was hoping that the fools back in the bar were the only ones in the vicinity. If, they texted anyone else we were going to be in a world of hurt. I got us to my car without anyone trailing us, but, we were in an open area now. The price tag on her head was so high they'd take me out in hopes of collecting. Nobody would be safe. I gripped her hips, set her down by the door of my ride. Before fishing in my pocket for keys, I placed both hands on either side of her body. My face in hers I needed to get stern hoping to catch her full attention. "Look you little Glymera brat." I spit out. "Whether you like it or not, I am trying to save your ass. You can either listen to me or take your chances out in the cold. Some scary-ass heinous people are looking "... I heard some shuffling behind us. I looked slyly over my shoulder and seen some of my comrades. They didn't notice or hadn't looked at the mass text that was sent out. I turned and dipped my head down. I forced a kiss on the firecracker covering her face with mine until they walked by. Fuck me, her lips were soft as hell, any other time I'd have her pressed her against the car or the alleyway, and I'd be all up in this leather skirt. My dicked already ached for that shit. That would have to be another time, maybe. I backed away so she could take a breath.* "Cookie, we need to go NOW!" She fought me tooth and nail. I never had in my life wanted to do what was right. She was making it impossible. I opened the car door and tossed her roughly inside. My phone again started to vibrate. They had upped the bounty on her head to a crisp 5 million. Cursing still under my breath as I eyed her while walking in front of my car. I pulled the gun from my back, and she had already been way too much trouble than any-one-male could take. I fought it over in my head, and the obvious worked itself out. I was doing humankind a favor by doing this one in, and I would take her to the dessert, one bullet between the eye's quick fast and done. I jumped in the car and took off to nowhere, and it was my favorite spot. Payday was just on the horizon. 

#JustAnotherDaysWork

[readbookywooks]

In which Fix, the detective, considerably furthers the interests of Phileas Fogg

Phileas Fogg found himself twenty hours behind time. Passepartout, the involuntary cause of this delay, was desperate. He had ruined his master!

At this moment the detective approached Mr. Fogg, and, looking him intently in the face, said:

"Seriously, sir, are you in great haste?"

"Quite seriously."

"I have a purpose in asking," resumed Fix. "Is it absolutely necessary that you should be in New York on the 11th, before nine o'clock in the evening, the time that the steamer leaves for Liverpool?"

"It is absolutely necessary."

"And, if your journey had not been interrupted by these Indians, you would have reached New York on the morning of the 11th?"

"Yes; with eleven hours to spare before the steamer left."

"Good! you are therefore twenty hours behind. Twelve from twenty leaves eight. You must regain eight hours. Do you wish to try to do so?"

"On foot?" asked Mr. Fogg.

"No; on a sledge," replied Fix. "On a sledge with sails. A man has proposed such a method to me."

It was the man who had spoken to Fix during the night, and whose offer he had refused.

Phileas Fogg did not reply at once; but Fix, having pointed out the man, who was walking up and down in front of the station, Mr. Fogg went up to him. An instant after, Mr. Fogg and the American, whose name was Mudge, entered a hut built just below the fort.

There Mr. Fogg examined a curious vehicle, a kind of frame on two long beams, a little raised in front like the runners of a sledge, and upon which there was room for five or six persons. A high mast was fixed on the frame, held firmly by metallic lashings, to which was attached a large brigantine sail. This mast held an iron stay upon which to hoist a jib-sail. Behind, a sort of rudder served to guide the vehicle. It was, in short, a sledge rigged like a sloop. During the winter, when the trains are blocked up by the snow, these sledges make extremely rapid journeys across the frozen plains from one station to another. Provided with more sails than a cutter, and with the wind behind them, they slip over the surface of the prairies with a speed equal if not superior to that of the express trains.

Mr. Fogg readily made a bargain with the owner of this land-craft. The wind was favourable, being fresh, and blowing from the west. The snow had hardened, and Mudge was very confident of being able to transport Mr. Fogg in a few hours to Omaha. Thence the trains eastward run frequently to Chicago and New York. It was not impossible that the lost time might yet be recovered; and such an opportunity was not to be rejected.

Not wishing to expose Aouda to the discomforts of travelling in the open air, Mr. Fogg proposed to leave her with Passepartout at Fort Kearney, the servant taking upon himself to escort her to Europe by a better route and under more favourable conditions. But Aouda refused to separate from Mr. Fogg, and Passepartout was delighted with her decision; for nothing could induce him to leave his master while Fix was with him.

It would be difficult to guess the detective's thoughts. Was this conviction shaken by Phileas Fogg's return, or did he still regard him as an exceedingly shrewd rascal, who, his journey round the world completed, would think himself absolutely safe in England? Perhaps Fix's opinion of Phileas Fogg was somewhat modified; but he was nevertheless resolved to do his duty, and to hasten the return of the whole party to England as much as possible.

At eight o'clock the sledge was ready to start. The passengers took their places on it, and wrapped themselves up closely in their travelling-cloaks. The two great sails were hoisted, and under the pressure of the wind the sledge slid over the hardened snow with a velocity of forty miles an hour.

The distance between Fort Kearney and Omaha, as the birds fly, is at most two hundred miles. If the wind held good, the distance might be traversed in five hours; if no accident happened the sledge might reach Omaha by one o'clock.

What a journey! The travellers, huddled close together, could not speak for the cold, intensified by the rapidity at which they were going. The sledge sped on as lightly as a boat over the waves. When the breeze came skimming the earth the sledge seemed to be lifted off the ground by its sails. Mudge, who was at the rudder, kept in a straight line, and by a turn of his hand checked the lurches which the vehicle had a tendency to make. All the sails were up, and the jib was so arranged as not to screen the brigantine. A top-mast was hoisted, and another jib, held out to the wind, added its force to the other sails. Although the speed could not be exactly estimated, the sledge could not be going at less than forty miles an hour.

"If nothing breaks," said Mudge, "we shall get there!"

Mr. Fogg had made it for Mudge's interest to reach Omaha within the time agreed on, by the offer of a handsome reward.

The prairie, across which the sledge was moving in a straight line, was as flat as a sea. It seemed like a vast frozen lake. The railroad which ran through this section ascended from the south-west to the north-west by Great Island, Columbus, an important Nebraska town, Schuyler, and Fremont, to Omaha. It followed throughout the right bank of the Platte River. The sledge, shortening this route, took a chord of the arc described by the railway. Mudge was not afraid of being stopped by the Platte River, because it was frozen. The road, then, was quite clear of obstacles, and Phileas Fogg had but two things to fear-- an accident to the sledge, and a change or calm in the wind.

But the breeze, far from lessening its force, blew as if to bend the mast, which, however, the metallic lashings held firmly. These lashings, like the chords of a stringed instrument, resounded as if vibrated by a violin bow. The sledge slid along in the midst of a plaintively intense melody.

"Those chords give the fifth and the octave," said Mr. Fogg.

These were the only words he uttered during the journey. Aouda, cosily packed in furs and cloaks, was sheltered as much as possible from the attacks of the freezing wind. As for Passepartout, his face was as red as the sun's disc when it sets in the mist, and he laboriously inhaled the biting air. With his natural buoyancy of spirits, he began to hope again. They would reach New York on the evening, if not on the morning, of the 11th, and there was still some chances that it would be before the steamer sailed for Liverpool.

Passepartout even felt a strong desire to grasp his ally, Fix, by the hand. He remembered that it was the detective who procured the sledge, the only means of reaching Omaha in time; but, checked by some presentiment, he kept his usual reserve. One thing, however, Passepartout would never forget, and that was the sacrifice which Mr. Fogg had made, without hesitation, to rescue him from the Sioux. Mr. Fogg had risked his fortune and his life. No! His servant would never forget that!

While each of the party was absorbed in reflections so different, the sledge flew past over the vast carpet of snow. The creeks it passed over were not perceived. Fields and streams disappeared under the uniform whiteness. The plain was absolutely deserted. Between the Union Pacific road and the branch which unites Kearney with Saint Joseph it formed a great uninhabited island. Neither village, station, nor fort appeared. From time to time they sped by some phantom-like tree, whose white skeleton twisted and rattled in the wind. Sometimes flocks of wild birds rose, or bands of gaunt, famished, ferocious prairie-wolves ran howling after the sledge. Passepartout, revolver in hand, held himself ready to fire on those which came too near. Had an accident then happened to the sledge, the travellers, attacked by these beasts, would have been in the most terrible danger; but it held on its even course, soon gained on the wolves, and ere long left the howling band at a safe distance behind.

About noon Mudge perceived by certain landmarks that he was crossing the Platte River. He said nothing, but he felt certain that he was now within twenty miles of Omaha. In less than an hour he left the rudder and furled his sails, whilst the sledge, carried forward by the great impetus the wind had given it, went on half a mile further with its sails unspread.

It stopped at last, and Mudge, pointing to a mass of roofs white with snow, said: "We have got there!"

Arrived! Arrived at the station which is in daily communication, by numerous trains, with the Atlantic seaboard!

Passepartout and Fix jumped off, stretched their stiffened limbs, and aided Mr. Fogg and the young woman to descend from the sledge. Phileas Fogg generously rewarded Mudge, whose hand Passepartout warmly grasped, and the party directed their steps to the Omaha railway station.

The Pacific Railroad proper finds its terminus at this important Nebraska town. Omaha is connected with Chicago by the Chicago and Rock Island Railroad, which runs directly east, and passes fifty stations.

A train was ready to start when Mr. Fogg and his party reached the station, and they only had time to get into the cars. They had seen nothing of Omaha; but Passepartout confessed to himself that this was not to be regretted, as they were not travelling to see the sights.

The train passed rapidly across the State of Iowa, by Council Bluffs, Des Moines, and Iowa City. During the night it crossed the Mississippi at Davenport, and by Rock Island entered Illinois. The next day, which was the 10th, at four o'clock in the evening, it reached Chicago, already risen from its ruins, and more proudly seated than ever on the borders of its beautiful Lake Michigan.

Nine hundred miles separated Chicago from New York; but trains are not wanting at Chicago. Mr. Fogg passed at once from one to the other, and the locomotive of the Pittsburgh, Fort Wayne, and Chicago Railway left at full speed, as if it fully comprehended that that gentleman had no time to lose. It traversed Indiana, Ohio, Pennsylvania, and New Jersey like a flash, rushing through towns with antique names, some of which had streets and car-tracks, but as yet no houses. At last the Hudson came into view; and, at a quarter-past eleven in the evening of the 11th, the train stopped in the station on the right bank of the river, before the very pier of the Cunard line.

The China, for Liverpool, had started three-quarters of an hour before!