#the claw grabbing onto nothing had me HOWLING

[witchofhistory]

They couldn't survive this.

All around him, his teammates were dropping like flies while the rest tried to get them to safety or hold off the enemy with their last dredges of strength. There was nothing to do but hold him off as long as they could.

And then came the howl. It was a hunting call, one a dog might make when charging after it's masters prey.

The portal that opened over the battlefield was a swirling pit of green that leeched into the world around it, clawing at the red sky and pulling itself open further.

Darkseid simply laughed. "Have you called for aid, little heros? Who do you believe can best me?"

His answer was something small, green, and glowing. It floated in front of the portal, maybe a few yards away, and waited.

He laughed. "A puppy! Your trump card is a mutt, how foolish of you."

And then came the others. The heroes held their breath as they watched, unbelieving, as seven more animals charged out of the portal and joined their friend.

"Krypto!" The Superboys called in unison, the youngest excited while the oldest sounded like he was going to cry.

Nightwing tripped as he stared at a black masked hound, his head swiveling between him and Batman. "Dad, is that?"

It had been months since the last time Nightwing had called him dad. "Bat-hound."

A sea horse, a kangaroo, a horse, a monkey and a cat all joined the dogs, charging darksied.

As they moved, their bodies grew and grew until each was half the size of Darkseid, snarling and angry and protective, guarding their humans.

The green dog howls again and the dogs attack as one, while the rest start grabbing the heroes and moving them to safety as the fight rages in front of them.

Wonder Woman hugged Jumpa as best she could with her arm dislocated, tears in her eyes as she said hello to a long lost friend.

Beppo patted Superman on the head while he held Jon in his arms, the young boy ecstatic to finally meet the monkey.

Comet barely even slowed down as Supergirl reached up to swing herself onto the horse's back, the duo back again for one more day. Tears, both happy, sad, and pained, streamed down her cheeks.

Streaky launched herself at Darkseid with the force of a wrecking ball, knocking him back, before diving behind the dogs and going back to taking the injured away like nothing happened.

As the heroes start working to heal each other, Batman notices a figure by the portal. A young boy with white hair and impish features, just watching. "Who are you?"

The boy looks at them with a sad smile, and despite the distance, his voice could be heard by all. "You try saying no to their collective sad eyes. How could I say no?"

There is a crash as Darkseid falls, and it is clear within moments he is not getting up again. The animals all shrink to their normal sizes, running for their people with the force of a long separation. Ace bowls over Nightwing as he squeezes his dog tight, his siblings joining in the pile to meet the infamous hound.

The green dog, however, stands over the enemy with a growl building in his throat.

"Cujo," the white haired boy says, "fetch."

With a harsh bite to his arm, the now named Cujo dragged him to the portal. His tail wagged as he showed off his catch, nudging his masters side.

The boy didn't even move. "Good boy. Bring him to Walker." He watched the dog disappear into the portal, before looking over the field. He sighed. "You have an hour before the Observants are on my ass. Make the most of it." He disappeared through the portal, taking the green with him.

DPxDC #9

The world is ending. All junior and regular league members are down or exhausted. When all of a sudden a glowing green portal opens up over the battlefield.

Darkseid: And just what last-ditch effort is this?

A tiny green flying dog comes through the portal.

Darkseid: This is your trump card? A mutt how cute.

Following behind Cujo are several glowing animals, with costumes on.

Krypto (Dog), Ace (Dog), Storm (Seahorse), Jumpa (Kanga), Comet (Horse), Beppo (Monkey), and Streaky (Cat) all fly out through the portal. The gone but never-forgotten animal sidekicks of several heroes are here to help.

Comet along with Jumpa, Beppo, Comet, and a now big Cujo start grabbing and bringing the heroes away from the fight. While the rest start to beat the living tar out of Darkseid.

[yaxinqs]

oh my god don't tell me i need to record every time i play the game—

i was playing claw machine and he gave me the "of course i'm gonna win" voiceline only for him to plant the claw right between two plushies so it grabs onto NOTHING

and then he did it again while saying "easy peasy"... i can't deal with this anymore

[lazyneonrabbitt]

Preferences

Adar x Reader | SMUT🔞

You find your Lord Father in a crowd of Uruk, facing off against a warrior and find out new things about him after.

Based off this meme post and with a special appearance of Pushkrimp who belongs to @holykhepri (I hope I did him justice, friend!!)

Cheers and howls could be heard far past the borders of the Uruk campsite, the place you called your home now as well.

Taken in as a stray who mamaged to worm her way into their leader's heart you, a simple mortal, now lived among the ones that were considered even lesser beings.

You had heard these sounds often before.

On quiet days the Uruk men fought, for entertainment and prizes of weapons and food rations. It was the only thing they could place bets with.

The only off thing about it all is that Adar was nowhere to be found. You wandered around the camp in spirals, getting further towards the camo's centre where most of the residents had gathered. Normally it was easy to find your Lord Father in these moments, and he always notified you when he'd go out.

So where was he?

In an instant the loud noises of the crowd going wild intensified, excitement carrying with the sound of countless gathered Uruk. And then stomps of weapons and feet in a rythmic pattern started, along with the all too familiar chants of "Nampat".

Curiosity got the best of you, your search now forgotten as your feet led you towards the noise.

It was easy to find the crowd, and just as easy to get to the front of it to see what all the commotion was about with all of the Uruk letting Lord Father's favorite mortal pass by.

The chants were still going as you wormed yourself past rows of bodies until the clearing came into view.

The first thing that appeared in your vision between the shoulders of Uruk still in front of you was one of the larger warriors that lived in the village. He was at least two heads taller than you and equally as wide. Thick, strong body with corded muscles under his pale grey skin adorned in warpaints and his chest adorned with two metal rings pierced through his nipples.

His pink tinted ears stood at attention, focused on his current oponent.

Adar, who you had been looking for this whole time. No wonder the crowd went so wild, they had finally gotten the match of a lifetime. Their undefeated warrior versus their Lord Father, the ancient Uruk.

You watched as they circled each other, Adar carying nothing but his sword tip dagger and gauntlet, his sword now in the hands of a young one watching on the front row who held onto it like he was given a blessing.

In the ring that had formed naturally by the crowd the two Uruks circled each other, the tall one, Pushkrimp, taunting his Lord Father who gave no thought to it.

"You know you can't beat me in battle." Adar's voice sounded and was backed up by sounds of support from the crowd.

"Humor me." Was all he got for an answer before he was charged at, only barely managing to dodge and trip his oponent, but not without being grabbed by the leg and pulled along to the ground, Adar's dagger landing in the sand just out of reach.

Adar was quickly overpowered, a smirk on the taller Uruk's face as he held fhe side of his face pressed into the dirt.

"You wanna yield?"

The crowd went wild at the quick settle, distracting Pushkrimp just enough for Adar to move his legs underneath the taller Uruk and toss him off of him and getting back up.

"I don't yield that easily."

The truth was, he had no option to overpower the much larger Uruk before him so his only option was to tire him out for now. He'd have to endure.

"Good." Pushkrimp stood tall, rolling his shoulders aa he stared down at his elder. "Neither will I."

With that he charged again, this time succeeding in grabbing and Taking Adar to the ground, knocking the air out of him and earning a loud gasp from you now on the front row.

Both sets of eyes found you, and in Adar's you saw a fire light up at that moment. With the claws of his gauntlet he grabbed right into the muscle of his oponent's arm, prying the hand off his chest and rolling from under him. Using his current position and hold of Pushkrimp's arm he tugged at it and shoved a foot into his side to topple him once again. He had hoped to get back to his dagger but the way he had tossed the Uruk he had set himself at the wrong side of the makeshift arena.

The Uruk laid on his back with a hand at his side where the force of Adar's kick had landed. It was surely going to bruise.

Adar took his chance to straddle the taller Uruk, the metal of his gauntlet pressing hard on his oponent's neck as he stared down at him, eyes dark and irises blown wide, his breaths deep and rugged.

You recognized the look in his eyes, it was one he had given you some times before in private after typically frustrating days. Days that usually ended in both of you nude and spent after hours of him letting out frustrations and you giving up your body for him.

Adar's presumed victory was shortlived as his hair was grabbed, earning a pained groan from him and with a swift move was back underneath the warrior who had a smirk on his face as he leaned down to taunt his Lord Father in black speech.

You watched as Adar took in a deep breath and harshly headbutted the taunting Uruk who cursed in return.

The two wrestled, limbs tangled, punches and kicks barely missing. It became clear Adar's stamina was much greater, and while Pushkrimp's movements got sluggish, Adar was still ever as precise with each calculated moves.

Still, Pushkrimp got quite some hits in. Harsh blows to leg, arm and torso caused many instances of loss of balance for the ancient Uruk, but the hit he took to the face was his last straw.

With a breathy roar almost he returned a punch, then two and threw him aside. Then three and Pushkrimp was on his back in the dirt, out of breath with one hand wrapped around Adar's throat to keep him at bay.

Adar sat himself atop the larger Uruk, his gauntleted hand grabbing at the one around his throat almost immediately.

The look in Adar's eyes was now obvious to you. It was a look of lust, the display of strength seemed to be going to his head and genuinely turned him on.

You thanked him for wearing his longer tunic and chainmaille to hide the effects the fight was having on him.

The crowd fell silent in anticipation as they all took in the sight before them.

Pushkrimp's massive hand wrapped around their Lord Father's throat, but his grin never faltefed even with his airway cut off. Adar's gauntlet dug deep into the flesh of the Uruk's arm, drawing blood as black as pitch.

Pushkrimp's other hand was on Adar's arm, unmoving as nimble fingers had threaded themselves through one of the metal rings that adorned his chest, and Adar pulled it taut.

You had never seen Adar so feral. Hair wild, panting and grinning and his pupils blown wide with lust, eyes wide staring down at his oponent waiting for his next move with heaving breaths.

"Yield." The old Uruk's voice rasped in the eery silence of the crowd.

Only a snarl and a deep growl came from the one beneath him, having Adar give a harsh tug at the ring, raising his brows.

A groan left the warrior, his hand letting go of Adar's arm.

"Alright I yield." His other hand let go of his Lord Father's throat, allowing the smaller Uruk to get up.

Adar's eyes were on you the second he rose back to his full height, the cheers and adoration landing on deaf ears.

Behind him you saw a group of Uruks from the crowd move to pamper their favorite warrior.

"Come, love." Adar's voice was low and his hand was on you the second you were within reach. With his palm pressed at the small of your back he led you away from the crowd and back to his private quarters.

"I've never seen you fight like that before." You tried to make conversation as you neared his home but all he did was smile down at your words.

Once you were inside Adar's home his armor clattered to the ground along with his gauntlet, the chainmaille following soon after with a thud. He was so fast you barely had time to move around before you were pulled onto the furs he slept on.

You were pulled into his arms, resting on top of him when your earlier suspicions from the fight were proven to be right.

"Adar.." you sighed against his chest. "Did the fight truly excite you this much?"

You got a confirming grumble in response, paired with a grope of your backside.

"I never thought you to be so.." Nuzzling his neck you thought carefully of your words. "So, varied, in your preferences."

Adar raised his brows and looked down at you. "Do you find it strange? That I choose to not let gender get in the way of my attraction to anyone." His hands still absentmindedly kneaded your backside, your legs having found their place on both sides of his. You could feel his hard member press against you through the layers of clothing and decided to give the one who held your heart what he wanted, grinding your hips agains his.

"Not strange, no." Your lips found his ear, brushing against it ever so softly. "I'll even admit seeing you dominate that giant was rather arousing." You swiped your tongue over the edge of his ear, earning a raspy moan.

"So different, then and now." Kissing the tip of his ear got you a harsh buck of his hips.

"Melisse, please don't tease and undress your Lord Father." Adar's hand moved up to cup your cheek and move your lips away from his sensitive ears. He was happily submitting to you but he would not show you how easy it was to bring him to his knees at any given moment. He was already embarrassingly close to finishing from just your lips at his ear.

Your hands found the hem of his tunic and began slowly moving it off him, pulling it over his head and tossing it aside before moving to kiss and bite all over his scarred forso.

You dragged your tongue flat over one side of his chest, right along one scarred over nipple that had him stir underneath you. His reaction had you humm against his skin before you bit and pulled the skin between your teeth, imitating the move that made his oponent hield earlier and making him moan out loud, more vulgar than you had ever heard him.

"Hahhhmm.. melda." Adar's hands found purchase on your hips as he ground himself on you twice, three times before he stilled with a breathy groan.

He slumped against the furs to catch his breath, panting with each teasing movement of your body above him.

You couldn't agree on which version of your Lord Father you preffered. The feral, fearless leader who remained undefeated in battle had you soak your undergarments, but the shuddering, mewling Uruk who called you every sweet name under the sun had your entire body yearn for him.

"Oh, Lord Father.." You discarded your dress and undershirt in one swift move and leaned forward. With your hands splayed out over his abdomen you squeezed your chest between your upper arms and rolled your hips ever so slowly over his twitching length. He was still hard.

"You wouldn't let your rían go unsatisfied?" Adar's hands came to find your chest. One grasp more rough than the other, even without his gauntlet adorning one of his hands. The black scars winding around his fingers were a strong contrast against the smooth skin of your breast.

When you felt he was good to go once more you moved fo fully undress the both of you and rub his cock between your soaked folds. He was stained a sheer black at the tip and below his bellybutton, evidence of finishing before.

Your pink flushed centre atood out agains his pale skin and the dark tip of his length that peeked from between your lips.

"I am for you to use as you please, my love." Adar's scarred hand ran down your body and stopped on top of your thigh, giving it a gentle squeeze.

Again he caught you off guard with his words. He had used simple terms of endearment before, but those were almost always in moments you sought comfort and reffered to how he found you pretty ams such. Not even during previous intimate moments had he made any notion that he thought of you as a partner of a romantic nature.

Never before this day had he reffered to you as his lover.

You took him in, soaking up how beautifully at peace he looked. But no matter how gorgeous he looked in that moment, you were eager and watched his mouth fall open as you moved to slide the head of his cock past your entrance.

You moaned in unison as he stretched you wide open, his nails digging into the soft plush of your thighs.

Each roll of your hios earned you a soft gasp from the ancient Uruk, having given up his body for your pleasure entirely.

It took no effort to have you moaning and nearing your own end, Adar's length fit so percectly within you he reached your most sensitive spot with each soft thrust upwards to meet yours.

You could feel it in Adar's movents aa well that he was close again.

"Where do you wish to spill, lord?" Your hand splayed out across his collarbones, just beneath his throat. Even with him at your mercy you did not dare to wrap your digits around his throat. But his scarred hand left your hip to find yours, guiding it into the perfect placement and showing you the right amount of pressure.

Adar's head tilted back, your hand was on his throat and he begged. Pleaded you to allow him to finish inside of you, for he loved you so.

You never dared to let him before, always answering his same question with an answer of 'anywhere but inside, Lord Father' as you were afraid he saw you as just a partner to bed whenever he needed relief. But now you knew those were all lies your mind conjured up.

You picked up your pace once more, pulling more and more sweet sounds from your partner.

"Hahh.. Adarr... I beg you please finish inside of me." You knew the risks but nome of it mattered anymore. The thought of starting a family with him drove you right over the edge, squeezing your walls in release with a loud whine.

"Please.. Let me bear your children.."

Your pleas were all Adar needed to pull him along with you as your walls tightened around his cock, spilling deep within your womb and slumping back against the furs, allowing you to rest atop of him to calmly catch your breaths.

"You love me, Adar?" You nuzzled his chest in comfort.

"And you wish to carry my offspring." His hand softly carressed your back and you felt his gaze on you.

"Many young Uruk already call me mother. And now I know you truly care for me."

If you were told on your first day at the campsite you would one day share a bed with the father of the Uruks you would have resisted, tried to flee the area. But yet here you were.

You spent your day with him under a thick wool blanket, taking a bath and sharing dinner. All while discussing the future, starting with your belongings being moved into Adar's home and announcing your new title as true mother of the Uruks.

But those were worries for tomorrow.

Today was just for the two of you, the ancient Uruk and his mortal wife.

[dilatorywriting]

The Prince & The Pauper Prefect

Gender Neutral Reader x Prince Stefan (Twst OC) Word Count: 5.9k

Summary: 'Dear Ramshackle Prefect, you are cordially invited to tour the Royal Sword Academy at your leisure. We hope our libraries may have something of use to aid in your journey home. And if perhaps you find our facilities to your taste, we would be more than happy to extend you a more permanent invitation.’ Clearly, nothing about this could go wrong at all.

A/N: A commission for the very lovely @thefiasco-onyourblock. I'm having so much fun with all y'alls ideas, and this is one of the few that was asked to be public, so I'm happy you all get to see it! It was a lot of fun to dive back into this himbo~

You’d just stumbled your way back onto Ramshackle���s sagging porch after your second third fourth foray into this wonderful new world of Near-Death Experiences when the letter arrived.  It popped into existence in a pleasant burst of bubbles and sparks—a scroll of soft, cream, paper stamped with a shimmering wax seal that looked like it could have been melted down out of literal gold. You waved a hand under it, over it, all around the thing in grand loop-de-loop. The letter just kept hovering in place, occasionally spitting out another bout of multicolored sparkles.

“Hello?” you tried, cautious, and the thing crinkled at the corners. Like it was trying to wave back at you.

You glared up at the grey sky for a moment, daring whatever higher power existed in this stupid world to try fucking with you yet again, before reaching out to grab the ridiculous, magic, note.

It unrolled at your touch, like a cat stretching when you scratched along its spine. And instead of some horrible prank or wayward contract, you were greeted with an opportunity.

.

.

“POACHERS!” Crowley howled.

You sighed and rested your chin in your palm. “So can I go?”

“INTERLOPERS!” he forged onwards, waving the letter back and forth like a parent raging over a bad report card. “Who do they think they are?! Trying to swipe my most precious intern—student! My most precious and beloved of students!—out from under my nose?! As if I wouldn’t be able to see through something so—so—ACK!”

“I mean,” you grumbled miserably under your breath, “it is a pretty long nose. Could hide a lot under there.”

He turned on you with a gasp, like you’d just insulted his mother. Or… whatever the Headmaster’s no doubt vaguely evil and eldritch equivalent would be. 

“It’s a mask! A mask!”

He crumpled the letter petulantly between his clawed fingers and went to hurl it to the ground, but the paper smoothed itself out with another one of those magical ‘pops!’ and floated up on an artificial breeze to land neatly in your lap. Crowley sneered at the thing like he was planning to light it on fire, and honestly, with how strange and ethereal this little letter was, you sort of wanted to see him try.

“I think it’s a perfectly reasonable opportunity,” Professor Trein shrugged, unbothered by his superior’s usual nonsense.

“It’s not as if the Royal Sword Academy is known for their treachery,” Professor Crewel added, sounding a bit like the acknowledgement had to be yanked out of his mouth with a pair of pliers. He glanced your way for a moment with those narrowed, steely, eyes of his before turning that glare back on the old crow. “And in comparison, I don’t think any of us can truthfully claim that Night Raven has provided a particularly safe learning environment for the Prefect.”

Crowley sniffed, indignant. “A sprinkling of danger is all part of the educational experience!”

Trein sighed and Crewel pinched at his brow like he was fighting the start of a migraine.

“They’re just offering to let me look through their library archives for more information on how I could find a way home,” you tried, and then leaned forward conspiratorially. “Which would mean less work for you, you know.”

For a moment you could see the calculations whirling behind those glowing, yellow, eyes—the promise of entirely unearned vacation time and accolades for tasks he’d had absolutely bupkis to do with. But then the sharp line of his mouth hardened in determination and he turned away from you with a huff.

“We’ll discuss this betrayal of yours later—when my poor, old, heart has had some time to stitch itself back together!” he harumphed and you sighed miserably. Then he snapped his fingers with a little ‘ah!’ and turned on you with a perfectly sunny smile. “And of course there’s the VDC to plan for! Do get on that, my favorite, little, busy bee!”

Afterwards you stood in the little alcove outside of Crowley’s office, the golden letter clutched tightly in your fists. The soft edges of the scroll lifted to curl around your knuckles, like a gentle reassurance. Before you could work yourself up into getting too upset about the unfairness of it all, Professor Crewel placed a hand on your shoulder with a heavy sigh.

“I’ll drop you off Monday morning.”

You fought the tremble that was doing its best to turn your mouth into a wobbling mess, and turned to launch yourself into his furs with a crushing hug. The alchemist patted your back with a great deal of aggrieved grumbling, but he didn’t bother to push you away either, so he probably didn’t mind you creasing his coat as much as he said he did.

.

.

Your assurance that this was just a jaunt through the RSA’s library had been… mostly a fib. Or at least, deceptive in the same way that the sweeping, cursive, missive was also sort of sneaky. You’d dealt with enough genuine schemers at this point to recognize subtle promises woven into the words of the well-meaning.

‘And if perhaps you find our facilities to your taste, we would be more than happy to extend you a more permanent invitation.’

You sighed and tucked the letter into your bag. It felt a bit wrong to be ducking away from your friends and your hovel of a home like a thief absconding in the night. But this was just… You were just looking. Spending a day away from the cloying, tarry, taste of pooling blot, and the endless runaround of all your little duties, and Crowley was not nearly the same as flipping your new friends the bird and fucking off into the sunset.

You repeated this to yourself ad nauseum as you pulled on your cleanest uniform, and then again throughout the entirety of the drive down the coast, and then more when Crewel waved you out of his car with a pointed look, leaving you at the RSA’s doorstep with a little shoo shoo gesture to get you moving.

Everything was so white. And not the gentle sort of lightness that came with nice things like fluffy sheep or foam off rolling ocean waves. It was sterile—so sharply bright in the morning light that it was nearly blue. The brick path beneath your feet was white, the guardrails lining the walkways were white, the walls of the looming castle, the impressive archways, the fluttering flags bearing the school’s regal coat of arms—all bone-bleached beneath the sun and shimmering like the architecture itself had literally been polished to a gleam. The only variation to be seen amidst the sea of monochromatic brilliance was the occasional pop of a cerulean spire—like some sort of awful party hat to top off the whole mess of it.

Say what you might about Night Raven’s gothic chic and whole ‘I mean, of course the cobwebs in the halls are Intentional’ aesthetic, but at least walking around the drab buildings there didn’t leave you feeling like someone had just set off a camera flash in your face. You felt like you were dirtying the roads by just existing near them. How did anything ever get done here without everyone having to constantly stop just to sweep up their footprints behind them?!

But such was the way of this dumb world apparently. Everything had to operate in extremes—nothing could just be normal. Real. It was all some fairytale recreation, varying only in if it fell hard on one side of the spectrum or the other.

You pulled out the letter with a sigh, and began roving over the contents yet again to see where exactly you were supposed to be headed. This whole fieldtrip turning into a miserable confirmation of your unintended loyalty to Night Raven or otherwise, at least you might be able to get some information out of these promised libraries.

You managed to cross a sweeping stone bridge, descend three separate flights of stairs, and follow nearly half a dozen signs with little, circled, stars on them before realizing you were probably only making things worse for yourself. You were still on one of those glistening, pearlescent, pathways, but now there were trees everywhere. It was a far cry from the twisting, black, forests smattered throughout Night Raven’s estate. Light filtered down pleasantly through the lush trees and the air was so nicely scented with flowers and pine that it was almost like someone had gone through with a bottle of Perfume de Forest and personally spritzed each and every plant. Which—ugh. Even the birds seemed to singing in tempo to some pre-orchestrated song. It was trippy.

But speaking of trippy—

You were so busy glaring suspiciously at a tree with a literal smiley face twisted into its bark that you didn’t notice the drop-off until it was too late. To be fair, it was still all very lovely—an overhang leading to a crystalline lake that bubbled gently under the roar of nearby waterfall. No jagged rocks at the bottom or anything. You probably wouldn’t even have to tumble all the way into the water, just into the little ditch about ten feet down. But of course, all that didn’t stop you from ‘eeping’ inelegantly in a panic as you stepped over the edge and started to fall.

And then you jerked back with a wheeze when something caught you around the collar of your uniform and tugged. You flailed wildly as you were hauled back up and into the air, and something behind you made a high-pitched, nervous, whinnying noise.

“Woah, woah, woah! Easy! Easy! You’re going to send all three of us over, you big baby!”

The huffing, angry, noises just got worse and you were dropped unceremoniously back on the pathway you’d wandered off from just in time to see a pair of hooves come crashing down precariously close to where you’d been dumped. You scurried back in a hurry, because you’d survived too much nonsense at this point to get taken out from something as mundane as a kick to the head.

The horse eventually got its singular braincell working well enough to realize it had to back away from the ledge, and you were finally able to look upon your savior without being too worried about taking a hoof to the face.  

He was clearly an RSA student, what with the garishly bleached uniform and impeccably put together everything. There was a crimson cloak tossed over one of his shoulders though, which did more to break the monotony of colorless brightness than any other architecture in the entire campus, so well done him you supposed. There was a sort of effortless attractiveness to everyone in this stupid world, but your new acquaintance in particular seemed to fall hard into that ‘windswept, accidental model’ sort of look, with loose brown hair falling in a neat fringe over his forehead, and wide, warm, hazel eyes. He looked a bit like the sort of person that a school might slather on all their recruitment posters to be like ‘see! We have jocks that know how to shower and brush their hair! Look how put together we are!’

“Are you alright?” He asked, looking down at you with a canted head—curious. “You don’t look a student here.”

“I’m not,” you sighed, making your way to your feet with a sore grumble. “I have an invitation. I’m just trying to find the Headmaster’s Office,” you said, holding out the letter like a hall pass.

“Oh!” He chirped, brightening. “I can show you the way,” He offered. “Not that I’m in trouble enough to know the way there by heart or anything, but I guess just enough that there isn’t too much of a chance that I’ll get the both of us lost,” he winked and you narrowed your eyes suspiciously. Normally this sort of overly familiar banter meant you were about to get dragged into all sorts of Shenanigans.

Before you could decide whether to take the chance or politely decline, his stupid, too big, horse reared its head back with a frustrated huff. Mister Red Cloak took the mini-tantrum in stride, despite the fact that the thing had nearly just clocked him right in the face with a head that looked as solid as a boulder.

“Oh, come now,” he sighed, patting the beast’s neck. “We can finish the course later. Don’t be a baby.”

The horse made some sort of unpleasant shrieking noise like some nightmare creature from just beyond the gates of Hell that had you flinching back to avoid being Murdered, but its rider simply rolled his eyes and tugged sharply at the reins.

“What do you think, huh? Just this once?” he asked, leaning forward over the withers to talk to the raging horse in its face. Like a lunatic. “For an extra bucket of oats? And maybe, just a few—” cue an absolutely horrendous eyebrow waggle, “carrots?”

And then the horse tossed its head back with a whinny that should absolutely not have sounded anything like a ‘hell yeah! Whatever you say, dude!’ before turning and prancing around you in tight, bouncy, circles. You scrunched in on yourself, because the thing was still probably a thousand pounds of muscle and flailing limbs. Even if it wasn’t actively huffing at you anymore, now it was just getting closer faster.

“You really don’t have to,” you tried. “Just point me in the right direction and I can find my own way.”

“Nonsense!” he chirped, dropping down from the saddle to land before you in the grass with a heavy thud. He brushed at his trousers, as if he wasn’t expecting his hands to come back completely clean. There wasn’t a speck of dirt on him. “What sort of savior would I be if I let you get lost in the wild and wonderful woods of this grand institution?”

“I can see the castle,” you griped, pointing to the blue peaks over the trees.

“Last I checked, you can see it from the entrance too,” he smiled and gestured to the forested path around you, chuffing a bit like he was laughing under his breath. “Must’ve been quite a turnaround, to wind up here anyways.”

Instantly you felt your hackles rising and a familiar, prickly, heat work its way up into your cheeks.

“Thank you, for your concern,” you grit out and swiveled on your heel. “But I guess even I should be able to find my way eventually.”

The pleasantly amused expression on the brunette’s face instantly fell and he darted back in front of you with a grimace.

“Sorry—that was. Sorry. I guess I put my foot in my mouth,” he rushed out. A gloved hand came up to rub awkwardly at the back of his neck. “I didn’t mean it like that.”

You snorted and glared off into the trees.

“Now you really have to let me show you the way,” he laughed, stilted and bordering on too polite. “For making an ass out of myself like that. It’s the least I can do.”

You glared at him sourly for a moment before sighing and glancing back at the looming Andalusian still prancing along the tree line. “Will… that be coming with us?”

“Helios?” he asked, like you had any concept of what a ‘Helios’ was supposed to be. Probably the horse. “Oh, no, no, no,” he said, waving you off. “He can find his way back to the stables on his own. Right, boy?”

The horse made another one of those high-pitched, blustery, noises and you forcefully reminded yourself that you had faced inky goop monsters that were personifications of your classmates’ literal demons, and also kidnapping plots involving another of said classmates diving into your brain to rewire it like you were his own personal puppet. And in comparison to all those trials, Sentient Animals should not be creepy.

“Fine,” you huffed. “It’s fine. Just—let’s just get going.”

“Right!” he beamed, instantly bouncing back to his earlier enthusiasm. “I’m Stefan, by the way.”

You offered your own name in return, if only to be polite, and he smiled like the fact that you’d managed to grit out those familiar syllables was a gift in and of itself and not just, you know, generic introduction protocol.

“You have a lovely name,” he chirped, falling into step at your side.

You snorted, still a bit too bitter and sore. “You don’t have to try so hard to be nice, you know. To make up for saying something you feel bad about, I mean. It’s fine.”

His blinked his wide, hazel, eyes at you in way that looked a bit like you’d managed to surprise him. His eyelashes were long and soft, and they brushed against his cheeks with each shutter. Never trust people with nice eyelashes, you thought a bit petulantly. You’d known you were right to be cautious.

“You think I’m just saying that because I feel guilty?” he asked, not sounding particularly incredulous or insulted so much as genuinely curious. He tilted his head at you and some of his fringe slipped in front of his eyes, softening the sharp lines of his face. “Do people normally do that?”

You didn’t quite frown at him, but it was a close thing. You could feel your brow pinch.

“…I guess,” you huffed after a long moment, turning to stare back at the path ahead.

“Huh,” he mused, thoughtful. “Well, I really did mean it. And it’s a lot better than my name by far. I mean, really, Stefan? A bit on the nose, don’t you think? ‘Crown?’ Come on. Couldn’t my parents have been anymore original?”

You glanced over at him, a bit lost. “What does that mean?”

“Stefan?” he repeated with another one of those eyelash-sweeping blinks. “It means ‘crown.’”

“No,” you sighed, long suffering. “As in, how is that unoriginal? It’s a nice name.”

“Well, it’s because I—” he trailed off, gaze lingering in open astonishment. After a long moment of gaping at you like he’d just been clobbered across the back of the head with a baseball bat, he finally cleared his throat and looked back off into the trees with a tight shrug. “Nothing. It doesn’t mean anything I guess. Don’t worry about it.” He seemed to chew on that train of thought for a moment or two longer before turning back to face you with a wide grin that was just on the right side of smug. “You think it’s a nice name?”

“Whatever,” you huffed, cheeks starting to heat with something other than bitter chagrin. “Just please get me out of this forest before I fall over another cliff.”

.

.

Headmaster Ambrose the 63rd (the sixty-third! What in the nepo-nonsense was that?!) looked like a wizard straight out of some homey after-school-special, with silver spectacles perched on his rounded nose and a soft, pointed, cap atop his head that flopped endearingly at the tip. He was an antithesis to Crowley in every sense of the word—flowing robes replacing tight vests and formal wear, faded white accents rather than sharp black, and not a single bit of Sparkling Flair to be seen. Like everything else, as nice as he seemed, it was such a stark jump into the opposite direction that it had your hackles raised in caution.

“Our libraries are some of the most extensive in the country,” he smiled, warm and fond. It made the corners of his eyes crinkle behind the rims of his glasses. “I hope you’ll be able to find something that may be of some help to your situation.”

“Thank you, sir,” you said, fighting the insane storybook urge to do something like curtsy.

He waved you off with a gentle shake of the head. “None of that ‘sir’ nonsense. You’re a guest a here! I hope my students have been treating you well?”

Stefan rubbed at the back of his neck and shot his headmaster a sheepish smile that was entirely, unfairly, handsome.

“Doing my best, sir.”

“Good lad,” he hummed, something nearly mischievous sparking in those blue-grey eyes of his. But you were hesitant to label it anything of the sort now that you’d seen what real sneaky nonsense looked like. This was more like… Children’s Program Mischief. That kind that usually involved an adult thinking themselves very clever for being able to sneak some vegetables into an afternoon snack. He turned back on you with that shining smile. “Allow me to find you an escort for the afternoon, and then we can get off to the library.”

“I’d be happy to show them around!” Stefan piped in.

“Is that so,” Ambrose mused, that same little grin playing over his mouth. “I thought you were meant to be in Equestrian Studies at the moment, hmm?”

“Well, I mean,” he spluttered, before collecting his argument and squaring his shoulders with another one of those blindingly bright smiles, “how could I possibly have left someone in need to fend for themselves, sir? I would have brought shame down on this entire institution! Heroes are meant to be made not born, after all!” He boomed, like someone cheering a school’s motto at a sports game.

All of this sounded like the largest crock of self-aggrandizing bullshit you’d ever heard, and by the time you’d had a whole internal debate with yourself over the merits of NRC’s outright nastiness versus this… whatever it was supposed to be, Ambrose was gesturing between the pair of you and saying something that you probably ought to be being paying attention to.

“Thank you, sir!” Stefan grinned, and Ambrose waved him off in that same pleasant way he had you earlier.

“You’re in excellent hands, Prefect,” the Headmaster assured as you were rushed out the door by the guy who was clearly going to be your newest Problem. “Take care! And please let me know if there’s anything at all that we can help you with.”

And then you were back out in the hallway, with Stefan already steering you towards who knew what. The archives, you hoped. But knowing your luck, probably not.

“You must be hungry, right?” he asked, perfectly polite. “Why don’t I take you to the cafeteria before we head over to the library?”

“I’m fine,” you said, just as your stomach gurgled a very loud complaint. You patted at your traitor of an abdomen in a silent reprimand and sighed, “You can just show me the way. I don’t want you to feel like you have to babysit me the whole day.”

“Nonsense,” he beamed, intertwining his arm with yours and tugging you off down another hallway before you could protest. He was so tall, and it should have been hard to keep up with his longer stride, but it wasn’t. “I like spending time with you.”

“What?” you blinked, thrown. Because maybe you’d hit your head or something, but you were pretty sure the last half hour had consisted of very little other than you being grumpy and unpleasant.

He canted his head to look down at you and the corners of his eyes crinkled in a smile.

“You’re nice to talk to,” he said. “Honest, I think. Would be the best way I could describe it. Genuine.” His hazel eyes went a bit distant, wistful. “There aren’t many people here like that. It’s different. Good different,” he promised, the corners of his smile tugging into something a bit teasing.

Your gaze tracked down to the brilliantly blue carpet beneath your feet and then around to the perfectly white walls. Other students filtered by in their starched uniforms and shiny, black, dress shoes—all impeccably groomed and all chattering idle nothings about the weather, about classes, exams. You could see the muddy imprints from your boots trailing along the floor and a few errant bits of grass fell in clumps from where they were still tangled up in your shoelaces. Something tight in you eased a bit at the mess, and you turned back to your companion with a sigh that was bordering far too close on ‘begrudgingly fond’ rather than the properly ‘put upon’ you were aiming for.

“If you say so.”

You hadn’t thought it was possible for the guy’s smile to get brighter, but somehow he managed. You squinted into the warmth of it with a strange, squirmy, feeling in your stomach that you didn’t think had much to do with being hungry.

“Come on then!” he beamed, tugging you along. “We don’t want to miss the Feast!”

“Feast?” you echoed, incredulous.

“With dancing silverware and everything,” he mock-whispered, like a secret just for the two of you.

“What the fuck,” you gaped, brain immediately latching onto the most ridiculous aspect of all of it. “How do you eat anything if it’s dancing?”

Stefan threw his head back with a roaring laugh that had you wanting to sink into your collar with your shoulders hunched up to your ears. But no one stopped to stare, or point, or snicker into their palms at his open enthusiasm. There were a few curious peepers, but once they seemed to identify the source of the noise, they all went back to wandering the halls in their perfectly pressed uniforms with nary a sly comment or sneer to be seen.

“See?” he beamed, tilting sideways to knock his shoulder against yours. “Honest. Now come on—we don’t want to miss out on all the grey stuff. It tastes way better than it sounds, promise.”

.

.

The pair of you entered the cafeteria right at the start of things, with dishes and forks just beginning to fly overhead in waves of strange, blinking, lights and motes of golden sparks. More than a few people waved at Stefan as he walked in, and he returned the greetings with polite, buoyant, ones of his own before herding you to an empty table off to the side.

“You don’t want to sit with your friends?” you asked, brow pinching in confusion.

“Hmm?” he mumbled around a spoonful of something already shoved in his mouth. There wasn’t any kind of plate in front of him, so he must have snatched it right out of the air. He swallowed and reached up to grab another. “Oh, no. That’s fine. Here! Try this!”

You leaned away from the spoon he held up to your lips with a huff and some obligatory complaints about how ‘you could feed yourself just fine, thank you very much.’ You plucked the bit of silverware from his fingers with a wary frown and very tactfully ignored that lingering, fluttering, warmth in your gut that you still hadn’t managed to completely snuff out.

“Is this… grey stuff?”

“Right on the money,” he winked, leaning forward to snatch up another flying fork. “My family’s not usually a fan of more ‘modern’ cuisine, so it’s always a treat to be able to try all the different foods at the Feasts here.”

You looked hesitantly at the goopy mess of monochromatic paste smeared across the spoon, and then back up at Stefan who was casually digging into his own floating mountain of toxic waste with an absolutely enraptured hum of satisfaction.

“Remind me to buy you a grilled cheese or something…” you muttered under your breath, before bravely swallowing the entire spoonful of sludge. And—huh. That was actually… pretty delicious. How weird.

You spent the rest of the luncheon event picking at random bits of floating foods as they danced by. Occasionally Stefan would lean forward to point out his favorites and give recommendations. He was surprisingly observant, despite whatever initial impressions his jock’s jawline and guileless grins may have led you to believe otherwise—taking easy note of the things you pushed aside and the ones you nibbled at more enthusiastically.

“Oh—you missed the desserts,” he lamented as the last remnants of a picked apart pie flew over your head.

“That’s fine,” you said, but he only shook his head and began to drag you off again with another of those brilliant grins.

And so began a weird sort of pseudo treasure hunt, where Stefan would take your hand and haul you off to some random corner of the castle with promises of whatever seemed to strike his fancy, or more accurately you supposed, whatever he seemed to think you might fancy.

“No one really uses this vending machine anymore, but somehow it always restocks and it has the best ice cream bars I’ve ever had. It’s wild! I’m sure you’ll love it!—“

“Oh, it is pretty cold down here, right? I didn’t even think about that. But… hmm… Here! I know the best place to grab a hot chocolate! It’s just over this way a bit—“

“These walls are kind of a drab view, yeah? Here! If we go down this way there’s a great little area to sit where you can see the whole bay—“

By the end of things, somehow you ended up back at the stables with that terror of a horse of his. And despite the runaround and the vaguely exhausting fact that Stefan’s social battery never seemed to wear itself out ever, it wasn’t… it wasn’t that bad, actually. Sometimes people would wave him down to talk, and he always introduced you and left the proverbial door open for you to join the conversation, but never asked you to participate, which was nice. You’d taken to just sort of slouching against his side in a food coma like a lizard on a rock as he answered whatever mundane questions all the other students asked of him. But otherwise, it was just the pair of you bopping around all over the campus.

Helios saw his master and whinnied merrily, and Stefan made an odd sort of chuffing noise in return that had you laughing into your palm.

“What?” He complained good-naturedly. “You’ve never barked at a dog before? It’s the same thing!”

“Of course it is,” you droned, lips twitching up at the corners.

The next destination was someplace on the coast that he was insisting was the absolute best place in the world to sit and think. Which if you wanted to do research, naturally you needed to get your head together about where to start, right? The only problem was that it was a solid hour hike away, but Stefan assured you that on horseback it was a much shorter journey.

You leaned forward on your tiptoes to get a look down the sprawling corridor of stalls, each larger and grander than the last. And each of their occupants following that exact same trend. There even looked like there was a horse with wings, which was—ah. Not helping the intimidation factor, to say the least.

“You can ride with me,” he offered. “If you’re uncomfortable, I mean. Sometimes it helps to feel like there’s someone more adept at the reins.”

You blinked, a bit taken aback that he’d picked up on your discomfort so easily. But then then you focused on the rest of that offer and you and the horse shared a Look. And wasn’t that a trippy thing to notice. You immediately forced yourself not to think about it.

“I don’t know if that’s fair to Helios,” you pointed out.

“Nonsense!” Stefan waved you off, and Helios pinned his ears indignantly. “He’s an Andalusian. They’re war horses, you know? Built to be as sturdy and strong as any horse can be.” He said the last part with a sickly-sweet uptick to his voice, and leaned up against the beast’s flank like they were sharing an inside joke. “They say Prince Phillip’s legendary steed was an Andalusian, and they rode into battle against a dragon together.”

Helios’s grey muzzle twitched prissily and eventually the horse lowered his great head to thump against Stefan’s side with a gusty ‘harumph’ that had the man stumbling forward with a pleasant laugh.

“There you are, you big baby. I knew you had it in you.”

After giving the horse a firm pat pat on his rump, Stefan turned and offered you a hand.

“It’s easier if I help you up first,” he explained.

“Isn’t there like… a ladder, or something?” You tried, and Stefan grinned sneakily before ducking behind you and hauling you up on Helios’s back all in one go. You absolutely, positively, did not squeak, or anything else ridiculous like that. It was a—a squawk! The most indignant and put upon of noises!

Stefan laughed and waved off whatever terrible sounds you were making with a bemused ‘Sorry! Sorry!’ that was the absolute least apologetic thing you’d ever heard. And then he was swinging himself up near effortlessly into the saddle behind you and looping an arm around your waist.

“Sometimes it’s better to just get it over with,” he explained in your ear, like your brain hadn’t just absolutely Blue Screened at the new weight along your hips. “Like ripping off a bandaid. I know it can all be sort of intimidating for people who aren’t used to being around horses.”

When you didn’t respond, because you were still trying to sort cognizant thoughts of the mess of ‘!!!’ that was hard at work blotting out the rest of your brain, you felt him start to shift a bit behind you. His hands flexed a bit tighter, as if the idea of you not being secure enough in the saddle was in anyway the problem here. After another moment of your continued silence, Stefan leaned forward carefully to hook his chin over your shoulder and spoke in that same carefully polite way he had when he’d worried he’d insulted you all those hours ago in the forest.

“If you’re still uncomfortable I can get you down if you want,” he offered, voice dipping low in something that sounded like hesitance. “I know I—I mean, you don’t have to go riding with me, if you don’t want to. I just thought it’d be…” He cleared his throat, and you must have been going delirious because out of the corner of your eyes you swore you could see the tips of his ears turning pink. “I can… I can just take you to the library now, if you want,” he said. “I know I’ve already been pretty selfish with your time today.”

Helios shifted to stamp his feet and you twisted your fingers nervously into his mane. You really didn’t feel entirely great about being so high, on something so wild and big. And honestly, you had wasted a lot of time sightseeing with your impromptu tour guide. If you were being in anyway rational, you should demand Stefan dismount and take you to the library like he promised. But all the same… Today had been—all of it had been…

“Just don’t let me fall,” you huffed, fighting the urge to duck your chin down into your collar to hide the rising heat in your cheeks.

“Of course not!” Stefan beamed, straightening himself back up so suddenly that he nearly tipped the both of you from the saddle. You sent him a glare over your shoulder and he laughed, loud and boisterous. “Sorry, sorry. From here out starts the ‘of course not.’ That was just a test run.”

“Whatever,” you sighed, letting him maneuver your hands to better hold the reins alongside his.

Naturally, by the time you got halfway to the beach, Stefan remembered that the library closed early on Mondays, and that you’d well and truly missed your opportunity as you’d been off gallivanting with him and his ridiculousness all day.

But you know what? It was fine. You’d just come back tomorrow. And maybe the next day too.

.

.

[sparrowrye]

Alastor x Fem! Reader {soulmates} Part 3

Synopsis: soulmate AU where you have the same mark on your body as your soulmate, and if your soulmate dies, you die too. Alastor needs to make sure that his soulmate is safe so he can continue his reign - whatever that takes.

Part 3: Lesser of two evils

Part Pilot | Part 2

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The very next day, I attempted another escape.

Surely he wouldn't assume that I would try it again after yesterday. He might think that I was too 'scared' to escape so soon. So I dared it again.

I started from the very beginning. When I woke, I quickly dressed, fortunately in pants this time, and opened the ancient window. I cracked it just enough to slip through. I let the wind carry me from the window to the edge of the cliff, out of view of the kitchen window. I moved with the wind as far as I could until I could see a beach forming at the base of the cliff. I glided down and started at a brisk jog.

If I stayed along the beach, I was sure to come across something right? Unless it was an island of some sort. What would I do then? I decided to cross that bridge when I got there.

The cliff side eventually evened out and blended into the beach. I slowed to a walk, constantly looking over my shoulder. My neck was starting to hurt from constantly checking. I was waiting to see Husker's bright wings but they never appeared.

After walking for what felt like hours, I had succeeded. I saw a pier in the distance and immediately started running. I had found civilization. I had found my escape. I felt a huge sense of relief knowing it wasn't an island.

The closer I came to the pier the more I could see people walking back and forth. My legs burned from running on the soft sand but I didn't dare stop. I was so happy to have found people and to have gotten this far.

A force from behind drove me into the ground. A furry arm wrapped around my neck and pulled me up. I pulled my legs up and abruptly dropped them, nearly throwing Husker's weight forward. He flapped his wings and pulled me off the beach into the woods. I reached up and poked him in the eyes, momentarily stunning him. I ran for the beach but the wind shoved me back. He enveloped me in his wings, cutting my vision from the town.

I pulled out his feathers and he howled in pain. He tightened his grip and moved his wings out of reach. I shoved my chin between my neck and his arm, slipping myself out of his grip. His claws grabbed at my shirt and raked down my skin. He pulled me back and wrapped his legs around my waist. I started pulling at his fur. He hissed loudly in my ear and shoved a cloth into my face.

I inhaled dust of some kind and began coughing. He let go of me as I scrambled away, sending him back with more wind. I jumped to my feet and ran for the beach again. I tripped out onto the sand but didn't dare stop.

I looked over my shoulder. Husker was nowhere in sight. My simple wind was barely anything so why wasn't he chasing after me? I kept running as I looked around, waiting for him or Alastor to appear somewhere else.

The next time I looked over my shoulder I fell into the sand. My surroundings began tilting and I felt like I was clinging to the side of a cliff face. I tried using magic but it did nothing.

I was on an anti-magic drug.

Someone picked me up and my strength all but vanished. I didn't recognize the person until we had disappeared into the forest again, the shadows revealing Husker's angry scowl.

I had failed again.

The drug had an effect for a full twenty-four hours. I was forced to stay in bed the whole time for fear of losing my balance and hitting my head. I was nauseous but never got sick. It was a horrible state to be stuck in.

I waited until the following night to escape again. The drug had worn off and everyone was supposedly asleep. I slipped through my window once again and walked along the beach. Husker found me much sooner than last time.

I tried several more times to escape and with each one I attempted, the sooner they discovered. I was growing tired of the countless failings. Husker always managed to get the stupid drug into my system. I had a feeling it was because Alastor would be angry if my injuries showed up on his skin. He always managed to cast some kind of remark about how a Slight hand was no match for a Full mage. It was the only interaction I had with the Radio Demon.

Eventually I stopped trying run. Then Plan B sprung into action.

Alastor wanted nothing to do with me and wanted to be left alone. How would he feel if I became a nuisance? Surely dealing with someone so bothersome would entice him to let me back into the world. As dangerous of a game as this was to play, I had to remain confident in the fact that he simply couldn't kill me. Granted, I know better than anyone there were much worse things than death, but I had to at least try. Threatening suicide always seemed to work with my past ring masters, and they weren't even soul-bound to me.

It started simple (definitely not because I was afraid). I always made sure to include curses in my sentences whenever he was passing. Husker caught onto it but he never corrected me, instead rolling his eyes and letting out a heavy sigh. Several times Alastor snapped at me like he had done before. He liked his scare tactics such as the dampening of the lights, extension of his antlers, and the yellowing of his large, sharp teeth.

Next were his quarters. I managed to find paperclips and other little objects to use as a picks for the locks. Picking locks had been a skill I learned to master early on as a kid. It made my old masters incredibly angry when the guards yelled at them to get a better leash on me. It meant they had to buy an expensive cage that I couldn't pick my way out of. I never went into Alastor's room, though I did peak into the red rooms. His bedroom looked like a normal master bedroom and the office had various radios sitting around. I left them unlocked and cracked open every time he returned for the day.

Much like with the cursing, it was more of a sharp word and distortion of his body. He never really laid a hand on me since our fight in the woods, which surprised me. I had expected the Radio Demon to be more aggressive with those 'under' him. Even Husker seemed to be bracing for something more than a stern talking-to.

After a few weeks, I started noticing Alastor spending more time in his office. I could hear his old radios playing and his door stayed locked tight. I decided to make one more big, final stand against this tacky mage. I attempted another 'escape' and managed to steal some of the powder from Husker's pockets. I hid it under my pillow and waited until the following day. I found Husker sitting on the porch again, drinking another bottle of whiskey.

I had the napkin of powder behind my back as I approached him, asking to pick more clothes from the store. As he pulled out his phone, I rubbed the powder across his nose. He shoved me away but the drug had gotten into his system already. He coughed and furiously pawed at his face.

"How's that feel, huh?" I yelled.

"What is wrong with you?" he coughed.

"Using that drug so often on someone can do serious damage to their physical and magic well-being."

"Maybe if you didn't run I wouldn't have to use it." He rubbed at his eyes that were now red.

"Maybe if you didn't keep me here I wouldn't have to run." I slammed the front door behind me. I quickly ran to my room and locked the door behind me. I opened the window and glided down to the beach. I casually started in the direction of the town, waiting for Alastor to appear. If Husker's magic was dampened and Alastor was in the house, surely the cat mage would request help from his master.

My guesses were confirmed when Alastor appeared in front of me from the shadows. I stopped where I was and crossed my arms. I pretended to glance down at a fake watch on my wrist. "Took you long enough."

Alastor let out a sigh. "What do you want? You've been trying to get my attention for quite some time now."

"I want you to let me go."

He rolled his eyes. "You know that's impossible for you, dear."

"Hey I'm just saying," I lifted my arms and walked past him, "if you leave me in the town right down the beach here, you won't have to deal with me anymore. A powerful mage like you can teleport so what's the problem?"

"The problem is that you and I share a soul," he watched me walk past, "What happens to one happens to the other."

I turned around to walk backwards. "I don't like you anymore than you like me. So let me live with normal people near that old house of yours, check on me whenever you want, and we'll call it even. You can let poor Husker go back to whatever he wants. How's his nose doing by the way?" I pointed to my own nose with a sly smile.

"I must say," he started to follow me, "you have proven to be far more of a nuisance than I thought possible from someone who lived her life in a cage." That made me stop in my tracks. "You're so used to being in a cold, dark cage that I thought an elegant one would serve you much better."

"Well I am human. I escaped using my own two hands and made a living for myself for five years. I've had a taste for freedom and now I'm hungry for it like never before." I wish I had claws to slice into his throat. "And I won't stop trying."

"I have been incredibly understanding and patient." He started walking around me in circles. I never let my back turn to him. "If you wish to be back in a cold, damp, dark cage I can arrange for that. I need not make you comfortable, but alive." The environment around me turned into static and symbols. I found myself standing in an old, dark cellar with a single lightbulb overhead. "Would you prefer something like this instead?"

I looked at him. His body had turned completely black save for his bright red eyes and yellow teeth. Everything in me bristled as fear choked me. I sent a blast of fire at him but he dispersed with his shadow. I heard his cackle echo in the room and fade into the distance. I looked around to find old, broken furniture stacked piles high around me. Was I back in the house? In an old cellar that I didn't know existed? There was no sign of a staircase. No sign of an exit.

Panic grabbed at my chest as I tried to stay calm. Surely there was a way out. He was using his magic to make it look like there wasn't. I ran to the closest wall and started running my hands all along it. There was a way out. Even if it was locked, there still had to be an exit. It was all an illusion. I wasn't actually in a cellar. He was trying to scare me.

I ran every inch of the cellar, climbing over old furniture and scraping myself on splintered wood. I became frantic and started running head first into the walls. They were solid concrete. There was an exit. There had to be. I just wasn't finding it.

Logic started to slip as fear settled in. I was running around like a scared animal. I began throwing things at the wall and sending blasts of hot fire or slicing through with wind. I tried parting it like I could do with the earth but nothing was working. Tears streamed down my face and my breathing was all over the place.

"You can't keep me here!" I screamed. I kept running into the walls until my arms, shoulders, and head were sorely bruised. I looked down at my hands. I grabbed the nearest sharp object which happened to be a splintered piece of wood. I laid my one arm on the ground and lifted the wood. I closed my eyes and plunged the sharp wood into my arm. I let out a scream as I did it again. Blood splattered around me and on my face. I would either be let go or die here fighting.

I leaned against the wall and held the wood up to my face. I braced myself and dragged it across my cheek. I pressed my hand to the injury and looked around. Still he was nowhere to be found. Did he think I wouldn't go through it all the way? I took the wood to my neck last, dragging it just enough across my throat for the lines to bleed a little.

"This is awfully pathetic of you." I looked up to see Alastor standing above me. He held his hands behind his back with his cane. He had an ugly smile on his face but his eyes told me he was upset. Good.

"I've been through too much," I gasped, “You either let me go or I end both our lives right here. I'm sure I'd be doing the world a favor." I looked him up and down.

He closed his eyes for a moment before snapping them open. "Very well." He grabbed my arm and roughly pulled me to my feet. "If that's what you wish."

The room disappeared and we were thrown back into the world. I stood alone in a dark alley. There was no sign of the Radio Demon anywhere. I didn't recognize what town I was in but that didn't matter. I had succeeded.

I wiped away the blood as best I could. The sun was setting so trying to move around in the daylight looking the way I did wasn't the smartest. I sat behind one of the dumpsters and waited. As happy as I was to be back on my own, I had to start from the very bottom. All of my money I saved had disappeared when Alastor had taken me. But I could do this.

Eventually, the sun set and the town was thrown into shadows. I had fallen asleep for a few minutes. I was abruptly woken by the sound of yelling. I poked my head around the dumpster right as a young boy ran into the alley. A man was chasing after him and kicked the small child into the wall with ease. He grabbed the boy's head and lifted him to his feet.

"You'll do just fine in the rings," the man laughed, "If you make me enough money maybe I'll let you go."

"You'll do no such thing." I stood up and faced the man.

"Who do you think you are, whore?"

"The person who'll end your pitiful life in this lonely alley."

He laughed and lowered the boy so his feet could touch the ground. He dragged the boy with him as he strode over to me. The man was much larger than me, clearly all muscle. That meant he was slower. He would be easy to fight. That was until I saw him withdraw a knife. He caught my chin as I jumped back. I rolled back onto my feet and jumped onto the dumpster. I cast wind down the alley and tried to push him off balance. He planted his feet, still gripping the child, and fought against the wind.

I let out a tense sigh. One more time. Just one more. For the boy.

I used the wind to jump overhead then between his legs. I jumped around him like a rabbit, never staying in one place for too long. He couldn't land anything on me, growling and yelling at me to stay still. I covered my hand in fire and grabbed the hand holding onto the boy. He jerked his hand back and nearly stabbed the boy as I pulled him away. I pushed the boy behind the dumpster and jumped around the man again.

I caught the man's hair on fire, watching him drop the knife to put it out. I grabbed the knife and buried it into the man's throat. He sputtered as he dropped to his knees, eventually falling on his back. The blood pooled around his twitching figure.

Clenching my teeth, I turned around to see the boy staring wide eyed at the dead body. I looked down at my own hands and stared at the dark blood staining them. I kept the dumpster partly between me and the boy as I knelt down to his level.

"You're safe to go home now," I told him.

"I don't...I'm not..." the boy couldn't place the words but I already knew. He was an orphan who was probably on his way back when the man found him. They always went after orphans. Who would look for a child with no parents or guardians to care for him?

I went over to the dead man and wiped his blood off as best I could with his clothes. My skin was still stained but it wasn't coating them like before. I turned to the boy and held out a hand. He ignored the hand and buried himself deeper in the corner of the brick wall and dumpster. I couldn't leave him in an alley next to a dead body. Jail wasn't a good option either.

A sigh left my lips as I carefully and slowly lifted the boy up. He looked to be around six years old. He clung to my shoulders but his eyes didn't leave the dead body. I walked to the other end of the alley and disappeared down the street. I had to find the orphanage before I could take care of myself tonight.

I had barely gotten a single block before I stopped dead in my tracks. Striker stepped out of the shadows with his toothy smile plastered on his face. I gripped the child tighter and took a step back. Fear dipped in my stomach as my old master locked eyes with me.

"It's been such a long time, Python," he greeted. "What have ya been up to?" I swallowed hard. This wasn't happening. Surely this wasn't happening to me. I had to run. I had to get away. I had to make sure this child was safe but I had to run. Where should I even run to?

I turned tail and ran. The boy clung to me for dear life as I made sharp twists and turns down various streets. Why wasn't there anyone on the streets? Where were the people? Where were the police? I needed help.

Striker stood at the end of one street then the next. How was he moving so fast? Why isn't anyone noticing? I was in the center of a city. Where is everyone? How do I get the boy to safety before I take care of myself?

"Striker I can...we can..." I backed myself into a fenced off corner. I could feel the boy crying as his tears drenched my shirt. "Just wait. We can work something out."

"Work something out?" he hissed, "You ran and embarrassed me years ago. You think I'm about to let you work something out?"

"I can't...I didn't...I'll make a deal!"

He stopped, eyes widening. "You? The great Python who never makes any deals suddenly wants to make one now?"

I looked behind him and yelled, "Help!" He turned to see no one. I casted myself up to the flat rooftop and nicked my knee on the edge. I dropped the boy and pushed him away. A lasso tightened around my ankle and pulled me back over the edge. I hit the opposing wall and landed awkwardly on my leg. I screamed from the pain and rolled over on my back.

Striker planted a heavy foot on my chest and wrapped a lasso around my neck. He pulled on it so our faces were inches from each other. "You're coming back with me and making up the five years you missed."

I tried pulling on the insanely tight rope. "You'll have to get me there discreetly first."

"Oh you don't know, do you?" His smile turned smug and the rattle of a snake could be heard.

"Know what?"

"The mayor of this city declared all ring fights legal. And he's not the only one who did either."

"Ring fights aren't legal," I growled.

He grabbed my arm and pulled me to my feet. I limped badly as he dragged me to the street. Keeping me up with one arm, he led me down the sidewalk with his rope still around my neck. People had hidden in their homes and were daring a peak through their curtains.

"Take a look, sweetheart," Striker said. "And how lucky you are to have wandered into the right town."

Wandered. I hadn’t wandered into it. Alastor had put me here because he knew it had legalized ring fights. He had done it on purpose. But why would he willingly let me go back into the ring fighting? Wasn't he worried about me getting killed?

I tripped in the midst of my limping and jammed my knees into the pavement. Striker laughed and waited for me to stand up, hands planted on his hips. "Why?" I asked.

"Why what?" His smile turned into a snarl.

"Why do you want me? I gave you years of fighting and good money. Surely you can let me go after all that."

He pulled the rope up and grabbed my chin so I would meet his eyes. He answered, "You dampened my reputation. No one had ever escaped my claws before except you. No one wanted to trade me their winning piece when I couldn't even contain my own. This is your payback." He pulled the rope even higher, forcing me to clamber to my own feet.

"We'll see the healer tonight and your first fight will start tomorrow." He grabbed my arm again and led me down the street. I had failed. I had gone from bad to worse to bad again. I had been lucky to escape the way I did. I wouldn't be able to do it again and not soon enough with no trust between us. Building that master-servant trust would take years after this.

I dropped to the ground again. "You'll have to drag my dead body, first," I snarled. I sent a heap of fire at his face but he deflected it with ease. He wrapped his claws around my throat and pinned me to the cold concrete.

"Don't think I won't," he snapped, "I'll break your other foot and arm if I have to. You can always be fixed." The corners of my vision darkened around him.

His weight was abruptly lifted off and my vision restored. I coughed to the side and pushed myself up. My eyes widened to find Alastor standing near my feet facing Striker. I inched backwards as Striker did the same. His hands were tight in fists but each step was a step backwards, not forward.

"Are you willing to lose your life over her?" Alastor asked. He remained in his calm pose with his staff in front of him.

"You don't participate in ring fights. What do you want her for?" Striker demanded. "She's been under my service for most of her life."

"That's for me to know and you never to find out."

Striker looked between the Radio Demon and me. His eyes were gauging the surroundings, desperately trying to determine if this was a fight he could win. Though both he and I had yet to hear of someone beating the Radio Demon.

"She'll be mine soon enough," Striker said and slithered down a street. By the time Alastor had turned to face me, I was gone, limping down another street.

Alastor appeared from the shadows and perched himself in front of me. He had a smile but he wasn't showing his teeth this time. "That was quiet interesting."

"I know what you're trying to do," I jutted a finger at him. I leaned against the wall to get off my injured foot. "You did this to me on purpose. You're trying to make me grateful for you."

"So what if I am?" He put his hands up like sharp ugly flowers. "After all, you should be grateful. You could carry on with a life in the rings or spend it in a distant safe house with nothing to worry about ever again.”

"It's a cage."

"To you, my dear, everything is a cage." He walked over and put his hand out to me.

"What?" I looked between his red eyes and his dark claws.

"Are you ready to return home now?"

I almost wished he had just teleported me back without asking. I didn't want to touch him let alone take his hand. Who knew if he had conjured up some kind of magic deal that solidified when I grabbed his hand?

And yet, when I looked around at the quiet, dangerous town, I knew there wasn't another option. He would keep looking for me and a Full mage with his power could most certainly find me with ease. I didn’t want to go back in that cellar. All because I had the worst luck in the world and had him as a soulmate.

I looked down at my feet and took his hand.

[aethereal-mother]

What Have You Done, Windforce?

TW: Blood, violence, bodily harm

Pure anger was boiling within the female deity, her fists clenched and razor-sharp teeth bared openly for everyone to see. And that "everyone" happened to be two of her younger siblings, Illumina and Ghostwalker. The dove deity had his hands raised slightly, a nervous smile decorating his face. He knew his sister's rage was something to be feared, his voice coming out small. "Sister dearest... You needn't be so angry... Your anger is something you must learn to control... Please, sister-" "Shut up." Illumina froze as Windforce leaned down towards him, her hot breath brushing against his face. Ghostwalker was lingering nearby, tense and silent. Illumina tried to speak, but Windforce snarled loudly and grabbed him by the horn, grip as hard as iron.

Illumina whined out in pain and tried to pull himself away, breath hitching as Windforce's grip only grew stronger. "I am SICK and TIRED of you trying to tell me what I need to fix! What I need to work on! MY anger has nothing to do with whatever RELIGIOUS NONSENSE YOU SPEW!" The goddess's tail started to lash out back and forth, her own shouts drowning out the gentle cracking of bone. Illumina's eyes widened as he tried to claw at Windforce's arm, his talons doing nothing to her armor. "Sister-! Sister please! WINDFOR-" A howl of pain was ripped from Illumina's throat as loud snapping rang out, shimmering blood starting to drip down the side of his face. Ghostwalker, in shock, tried to rush towards his brother with his arms outstretched, desperate to grab and pull him away, but Windforce, even with all of her rage, was able to deflect the approaching deity with her tail, slamming the large scaly mass into his body and send him flying backwards. "YOU STAY OUT OF THIS. YOU'RE JUST AS BAD AS HIM!" Her voice boomed through the air, her grasp on Illumina's now broken horn letting up and causing the purple deity to fall to his knees, soft choked sobs escaping his throat. Windforce snapped her head back towards Illumina, staring down at him as her chest heaved up and down. Illumina whimpered and tried to crawl away from the female deity, letting out scared little chirps as she slammed her foot down onto his robes. "S-Sister....! Sister please...! I'm only trying to help you! I'm only trying to make y-you realize that your rage will be your dow-!" Another howl of pain was ripped from the deity of light as Windforce gripped his wing, the cold metal of her glove sending shivers through his whole body. "Shut. Up." her voice came out in a snarl as she pulled her arm back violently. A spray of shimmering blood bursted from where Illumina's wing once was attached to his body, the deity shaking badly before falling limply onto his side. Ghostwalker, despite his body aching from the blow to his torso, crawled over and hugged onto Illumina tightly, glancing up at Windforce. "You.... Look at what you've done!" Windforce went silent, her chest still heaving as she stared down at her brothers. The rage was slowly draining from her body, her head starting to clear up as she looked at the display in front of her. She looked down, seeing the severed wing of her own brother resting within her clenched fist. What had she done?

[dangraccoon]

You Let Them

Day 23 ~ secrets revealed ~ (alt. prompt)

Hunter

Word Count: 926 Content: fighting, fist fight/hand-to-hand, knife fight, brainwashing, stun bolt, misplaced anger/blame

This guy was starting to get on Hunter’s nerves. He danced around each attempted blow, hardly landing any of his own. His pistol was too far from his grasp, but that was fine. 

It had been too long since he’d really sparred hand-to-hand with anyone; Wrecker was a good partner, but he was twice Hunter’s size. If he was honest, Crosshair was much better at a distance, and Echo was away. Tech had always been his sparring partner, and while Hunter usually came out on top, Tech was the most even match for him.

His heart ached to think of his lost brother, but if the blow his opponent landed to his gut was any indication he couldn’t afford to think of him now.

“You are distracted,” the assassin’s vocoder hummed as they locked in a grapple. 

Hunter huffed, finally breaking his hold and wrapping the CX in a headlock. He heard the choke break from his throat, the mic picking it up and playing the garbled noise as he clawed at Hunter’s arm for purchase.

Then, everything happened in what felt like the span of a blink.

The CX landed a sharp elbow to Hunter’s thigh, right about where he’d caught some stray shrapnel during the war.

Hunter’s hold tightened as he growled in pain.

The renewed strength that curled around the CX’s throat pushed his helmet up.

Hunter looked down at the man and was sure his mind was playing tricks on him.

He’d expected to see that familiar regulation haircut of a standard clone, but instead was met with a light brown buzzed closer to the scalp than it used to be.

The CX, snarling and trying to escape that suffocating hold, reminded him of Tech. 

No. No. He had to be imagining things.

His momentary distraction gave the CX just enough leeway to wrestle away from him, sucking in a sharp breath.

Finally, he looked up at Hunter as they both caught their breath. Looking at the other man, Hunter was sure he was going to be sick.

Brown eyes glowered at him, unaccompanied by that familiar yellow tint, ringed with scars.

“Tech?”

“‘Tech’ is dead,” the CX corrected. No longer altered by the vocoder, his voice was rougher, more strained. It made Hunter’s chest ache more. “He died on Eriadu.”

The CX charged him, knocking them both to the ground.

“I won’t fight you,” Hunter growled, still blocking each thrown fist.

“You will die regardless,” the CX said.

They rolled across the ground, Hunter grappling to the top. “Come on, Tech,” he panted. “Snap out of it!”

“There is nothing of which to ‘snap out’,” he growled, his hand grasping Hunter’s wrist and twisting until he let out a pained grunt. “Don’t you remember? ‘Tech’ is gone. You left him for dead.”

The CX bucked Hunter off of him, grabbing a dagger concealed in his boot, and swinging it at his former sergeant.

“You left me– him for dead, just like you left Crosshair behind,” the assassin taunted, dodging Hunter’s attempts at regaining his hold. “Twice.” 

Hunter growled, but he knew what his brother was trying to do. He used to do this when they were cadets; if Tech found the right button to press, Hunter would get distracted, giving him a momentary advantage. It used to work. He couldn’t let it work now, not when he saw a flash of movement from the corner of his eye.

“Echo was smart,” the CX continued. “He left on his own; didn’t even give you the chance.”

“You know why Echo left,” Hunter grimaced as Tech slashed at his leg, vibro-blade cutting easily through the thin fabric of his pants. “You supported his fight against the Empire; he’s fighting for you!” Another enraged slash. He almost had him exactly where he needed him. “He’s fighting the very people who turned you into this!”

“The Empire saved me!” Tech howled, his hits and slashes becoming heavier as his anger grew. “They came back for me when you let me fall!”

Just a few more steps, Hunter thought as he jumped backward onto the grass that surrounded the weeping maya tree. “You can break out of this, Tech,” he hissed as his brother knocked him to the ground. “If anyone can, it’s you!”

“You let them take Crosshair! You let them take me! And then you let them take Omega!” Tech screamed, abandoning his knife in favor of pounding his rage into Hunter’s face. “She is more important than anything! I gave up everything to save her and you let her go!”

“No,” Omega said, her voice lethally calm as she held Hunter’s blaster to Tech’s neck. “It wasn’t his fault. It was impossible to avoid.”

Tech stopped his barrage, his head turning to see her from the corner of his eye. “Come with me, Omega,” he panted. “I will protect you. You will serve a purpose far greater than anything you could do here.”

“I’ll stay with you,” she acquiesced. “But we���re not going to the Empire.”

She pulled the trigger, and a stun bolt hit his neck and rendered him unconscious immediately. 

He slumped forward atop Hunter.

“Hunter,” she gasped, gently rolling Tech off of him.

He was thoroughly beaten, his face split and bloody in spots, bruised and swollen in others. He coughed, then groaned as he pushed himself to his elbows, one hand coming to rest on her shoulder.

“You did good, kid,” he assured her, words coming out huffed and slightly slurred. “‘m alright, I’m alright. He’s gonna be alright.”

« Previous Day Next Day »

Thanks for reading! - River

Whumptober 2024 Masterlist DangRaccoon Masterlist Taglist Form Read on AO3

Tags: @writing-positivelyexisting @nekotaetae @lokigirlszendaya @get-wr3ckered @jediknightjana @idoubleswearimawriter @lucyysthings @unstable-kiwi @6oceansofmoons @l3xi3luv @savebytheodoresnonjosestuff @winter-phoenix1995 @serenityselene @nomercyforthewarrior @ravenclawbitch426 @luna-the-lone-red-wolf @padawancat97 @flowered-bicycles @error6gendernotfound @techs-goggles9902

[itzsana-kiddingmenow]

in the new skz code where jisung taunts chan and wins the tug of war after

imagine that ler chan lee Jisung for revenge

thank you

bye <3

𝙩𝙝𝙧𝙞𝙡𝙡𝙚𝙧:

𝙬𝙤𝙧𝙙𝙨: 1k

𝙖/𝙣: my random raspberry obsession 🥰

𝙩/𝙬: raspberries, raspberries, rough tickles

𝒍𝒆𝒆: han

𝙡𝙚𝙧: chan

𝒕𝒂𝒈𝒍𝒊𝒔𝒕: @someone-who-loves-kpop-saranghae @jeonginsdiary @leeknowstan33 @v--143 @wereallgonnadieonedaybutnottoday @inkytornpagess @lajanaa @a-wild-seungberry @channieissocute125 @soap143 @seungsluvv @skznccmlee @moony-9 @sunny-117

𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐟𝐢𝐜 𝐢𝐬 𝐚𝐛𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐭𝐢𝐜𝐤𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠! 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐭𝐞? 𝐤𝐞𝐞𝐩 𝐬𝐜𝐫𝐨𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐛𝐮𝐛s🖤

Jisung braced himself. Chan was definitely way stronger than him and certainly had an advantage over his small frame. 

It was life or death. Jisung knew about the bet Minho had placed with Channie before-hand and he really did not want to be caught by the kitty cat’s claws. 

Either he wins and escapes, or he loses and dies to Minho’s torturous wrecking methods. 

Hannie bit his lip, holding onto the rope tightly and watching as Chan did the same, steadying himself and smirking at the poor, defenceless quokka. 

Jisung gripped. And then tugged sharply. 

He watched in surprise as Chan slipped, tumbling straight into the water. 

“Ha!” Jisung cheered, smiling in glee as Chan’s jaw dropped. 

“Aaand even with his tiny waist and weak arms, Jisung manages to send Christopher’s ass into the waterrrr!!” Felix announced, Minho crawling over to the eldest and slapping his ass hard. 

Chan yelped, Felix letting out a slew of giggles. 

Jisung stuck his tongue out at Chan, regretting it almost immediately when Chan gave him a dangerous look. A look that told Hannie that he probably wouldn’t survive through the afternoon. 

—————————

“Jisung!~” Chan sang, closing the door behind him as Jisung peeled his swimming clothes off, only putting on his sweatpants before Channie grabbed his arms and threw him onto the bed. 

“Wahait wait hyung hyung let’s talk this out.” Jisung pleaded, squealing when Chna slid a leg over his hip, grabbing his arms and pressing them against his chest. 

“Now, do you apologize for making me lose?” Chan scoffed, Jisung’s eyes widening in disbelief. 

“No way! I won fair and square and I had a thriller doing it!” Jisung retorted sassily. 

Channie only shrugged. “Your loss.” 

Hannie kicked out immediately with a high pitched scream when Chan ducked his head, attaching his lips to his bare waist and blowing raspberries onto the warm skin. “YOUHUHU CAHANT STAHAHAHART WIHITH RAHAHASPBERRIES?!” He shrieked. 

“I can start with whatever I like.” Channie retorted, taking another deep breath and blowing another raspberry onto the quokka’s  ribs, shaking his head to spread his hair over the area. 

Jisung couldn’t remember the last time a simple raspberry had tickled him so much. 

“I CAHAHAHAHANT TAHAKE THAHAHAHAT!!” He screamed within a minute, drumming his legs desperately along the mattress as the raspberries only continued. 

Chan said nothing, likely because he was taking long breaths and blowing them hard into Hannie’s upper torso. 

The eldest kissed the tummy gently, intending to keep going until Jisung’s laughter had gone pin drop silent and the sweet belly he was torturing turned a shade of pink, as it always did when he wrecked it. 

Poor Jisung panted, jolting and letting out small giggles every time another kiss was placed to his waist. 

Chan pinned his hands again, this time pressing them below Jisung’s tummy to stretch it out. 

“Wahahait…wait hyung please—NOO!!” Jisung screamed when Channie took another deep breath, and yet again, the quokka was thrown into hysterics. 

“AHAHAHAHAGH CHRIHIHISTOHOPHEHER YOUHU AHAHAHAHAHASSS!!” Jisung screamed, throwing his head back in ticklish agony. 

“Oh?”  Chan came up for air. “I’m an ass? You’re gonna regret that, baby.” He shook his head. 

Jisung jerked to the left with a raw howl when Channie pulled his pant-line down slightly and blew one of the longest raspberries known to mankind onto the younger’s v-line. 

Hannie was begging, kicking out like a crazed person and screaming until his throat turned raw. “OKAHAHAY OKAY IHIHIM SOHOHOHOHOHORRYYYY!! CHAHAHAHAHAHAN!!”

A few members rushed in, worried, just to relax with a smile as tears slipped down Jisung’s cheeks. 

Chan didn’t even say anything, gasping for air and blowing raspberry after raspberry, driving poor Hannie absolutely ballistic. 

“AHAHHAAAHAHAHAA!! PLEHEHEHHAHAHAHAHA!!” Jisung’s words weren’t even coherent anymore, everything he tried to say dissolved into messy laughter when Chan only blew another unbearably ticklish raspberry. 

He threw his head side to side when Chan grabbed his waist to keep him steady, kneading into the space. 

“Now, did I win, or no?” Chan aksed, an eyebrow raised.

“No!!” Jisung retorted. “You suck!”

Chan scoffed in disbelief. So this quokka really wanted to die.

He bunched the boy’s shirt above his head, finding the spot of his first kid, an area right on his upper ribs. “You ready, Hannie?”

Jisung bit his lip, giving Channie a pleading look.

“Have fun~” And with that. Chan took a deep breath, stretching out the area before blowing as hard as he could, knowing he would drive the poor boy beneath him crazy.

“WAHAHAAHAHAHAAHAIT!!” Jisung screamed, hysterically laughing as Chan continued, and he was rendered immobile.

Helpless cackles poured from the quokka. He really couldn’t take raspberries.

Channie relished in having his first kid screaming in his arms, only continuing to blow nonchalantly.

Jisung squealed and twisted, the tingles building up more and more until he was crying, tears of mirth streaming down his face as he twisted his head desperately side to side.

���OKAHAHAHAAAAYYY!! YOUHU WIHIHIHIHINNNN!! NOHOHOW STOHOHOP I CAHAHAHANT FUCKING BREHEHEEHEATHEEE!!!”

Chan blew one more, just wanting to see the quokka’s reaction.

Hannie’s heels dug into the mattress, socked feet skidding along the cloth as he arched his back, wheezing out a loud “PLEHEASE!!” before his laughter went silent. So silent that only gasps for air were heard. 

Satisfied with this outcome, Channie let up, rubbing his first kid’s waist gently. Jisung’s arched back trembled and crashed to the bed. 

“You okay, Sungie?” The leader asked kindly, wiping away the dazed boy’s tears. 

“Sleeheepyy…” Jisung whined, and Channie giggled when the ace pulled him down to rest with him. 

“Soooo…does this still mean that I won?”

“Don’t push it.”

[eunchancorner]

Discoveries are being made

“RIHIHIHICK PLEHEHEHEHEASE! I CAHAHAHAN’T! NAHAHAHOHOHO!!” Kevin squealed, shoving at his hands the brunette’s thumbs drew slow, rough circles into his ribs. He had no other method of escaping; Rick was holding him tight in his warm, soft arms as he sat on the couch and his legs were left to kick uselessly into nothing. Rick seemed unphased by his pleading, simply holding Kevin tighter and uttering one simple, deadpan statement.

“You love it.”

How monotone it was contrasted how teasy it felt, and what’s worse is Kevin knew denying it would just lead to further teasing. Even Rick liked pointing out his constant lee mood and it was a little unfair, in Kevin’s eyes.

Behind the couch, Radford chuckled quietly at the silly display, putting a hand on Rick’s shoulder.

“Think maybe he’s had enough, big guy? He is kinda howling,” the blond pointed out, watching his friend squirm. Again, Rick gave a monotone, simple, yet all too flustering answer.

“I’m not letting go, he’s too cute to let go of right now.”

“SHUHUHUT UHUHUP!!” the poor ravenette squirmed in Rick’s arms, bright red blush overtaking his face. “IHIT TIHIHICKLES SOHO BAHAHAD!”

With a sudden sound he couldn’t quite identify, Kevin suddenly tumbled forward onto the floor, crumpling onto the rug and clutching at his ribs, trying to rub away the lingering ghost tickles that still had him giggling. He looked back, confused at why Rick had suddenly let him go, and then he saw it; Rad was leaning onto Rick’s shoulder, hovering his hands over Rick’s sides, and Rick had a very small, but noticeably wobbly smile and uncharacteristically wide eyes, locked onto Rad’s hands. As the fog cleared from his brain, he realized what he was witnessing.

“Ihis… is Rick ticklish?”

“Oh yeah he is! I think he’s even more ticklish than you are! Look how bad this gets to him!” the blond chirped as he wiggled his fingers where they were. Kevin heard quiet, sputtery, deep giggles coming from the much larger man, interlaced with quiet ‘waitwaitwait’s, and couldn’t help but smile (a bit more) as he stood.

“Dude, he hasn’t even touched you yet!” Kevin couldn’t help but remark with amusement, and watched as Rick curled up a bit, covering his face. “I knohohowww…” he giggled out, “buhut I stihill feehehel ihihit…”

“Is it just his sides, or..?” Kevin stepped toward the two, watching.

“No, it’s everywhere! Try his belly, it’s so much worse!” the blond advised, his eyes bright with amusement.

Kevin nodded, holding his hands over Rick’s belly and curling them into wiggling claws, just as Rick was peeking back out of his hands. Upon seeing the ravenette, Rick hid again, his giggling hiking up in volume. Kevin couldn’t help but laugh quietly at his reactions.

Maybe he IS more ticklish than me!

He looked up at Radford, and, in a sudden moment of understanding, the two nodded. He prepared himself as Rad counted down silently, so as not to alert Rick.

‘Three…’

‘Two…’

‘One.’

And just like that, the two swooped in. Radford scribbled up and down Rick’s sides while Kevin clawed at his belly, the two pulling surprisingly loud, startled laughs from the unsuspecting brunette.

“AAAHAHAHAWAHAHAIT IHI WAHAHASN’T REHEHEADY!!” he grabbed at Kevin’s hands, making no effort to move them despite being significantly stronger, and Kevin couldn’t help but comment on it.

“You could try to be a little more convincing, y’know? At least I kinda try to put up a fight!~”

“C’mon, Kev, you know why. After all, why would Rick, of all people, try to fight free serotonin? He’s having such a good time, aren’t you, Rick?” Radford cooed, pressing his cheek against the brunette’s, able to feel the blush spreading.

“IHIHIHIT TIHIHIHICKLES!!” was the only answer he gave, but frankly, it was the only answer the two needed.

“Yeah, I noticed. Why’s he only grabbing me? Is this his worst spot or something?” Kevin asked.

“Oh, yeah, it’s a really fun spot, too! He gets so loud over it, it’s adorable!”

“I noticed! Hm, I wonder how loud he’ll get if… May I?” The ravenette cast a glance at the blond, and something in his eyes said he knew what Kevin wanted to do, leading him to stop his own ‘attack.’

“Be my guest, Kevs!”

Kevin paused his own tickles, giving Rick some time to breath as he stretched out as though he was about to do something monumental. He took a deep breath, counted down in his head, and, finally…

PBBBBTTTT

“BAHAHAHAHAKEHEHEVIHINWHYYY!!” Rick nearly squealed at the raspberry, pushing at Kevin’s head with one hand and grabbing at his shirt with the other. The ravenette took the hint and backed off, chuckling a little at such a big reaction.

“Well, I think, armed with this new information, I might have a chance in our tickle fights from now on,” Kevin beamed a bit, looking at the two. Rick was too busy trying to stop giggling like an excited kid to answer, so Rad was the only one left to give him the look that told him everything.

Even knowing Rick was ticklish was never going to save him.

[dark-mnjiro]

[at the] bottom :: okkotsu yuuta

authors’s note: hello! This is my own submission for my “Touch of Divine Rush” collab that I ran! I apologize I’m a day late. With my grandmother’s passing - it was very difficult to focus on any projects without getting emotional. I hope you all enjoy this!

warnings: yuuta x gender neutral!reader, they/them pronouns, retelling of orpheus and eurydice, sprinkle of sukuna x afab!oc (aruna from my crown of thorns series), sprinkle of retelling of hades and persephone, angst, mentions and depictions of death, hurt/loss, comfort, yuuta not listening to directions to save his life, this is probably one of the more tame fics I’ve written but I’m super happy with it

so will you wait me out

or will you drown me out

“Yuuta!”

Panting and sweat dripping from his brow, Yuta shot up from his place next to the fire. How long has this journey gone on now? One day? Two? Three? He had seemingly lost count the further he journeyed into the underworld. Your voice was the only thing that kept him hoping and praying that this wasn’t for nothing.

He stood up before using the heel of his boot to extinguish the fire and grabbed his katana, securing it on his back. A sick feeling bubbled in his stomach. He knew he would have to fight to save you. But who could survive fighting the devil?

As he journeyed further, darkness seemingly surrounded him. The torch he used to give him light offered little assistance. It seemed the tunnel was growing longer with each step he took… and took him further down to hell.

Your name fell from his lips with a light whisper.

Your name was like music to his ears, causing a smile to curl over his lips. The sheer light in your eyes was enough to sustain him for life. With you, life seemingly made sense to him and he had a reason to continue, to keep fighting. It was as if life had meaning, had a purpose, again. Yuuta couldn’t just let you slip away so easily. He had to fight. For you… For both of you.

He called out your name again.

His voice grew louder as it echoed against the cave walls. A sigh fell from his lips as he reminisced about the last time he had spoken to you. Your hair caught in the breeze and the smile on your face only made the sparkle in your eyes even more pronounced. The way his name so easily slipped past your lips, like a chorus that constantly played over and over in his head. And almost within an instance - you were stolen from him.

Crying out your name, his voice echoed against the cave walls as he heard low growls echoing back toward him. He knew he was growing close as he slowly made out the large silhouette of what he would consider a monster.

“Cerberus,” he whispered to himself. He would have to stay quiet to sneak past the beast that guarded the gate to Hell. As his eyes strained at the darkness, he made out the yellow eyes of the three-headed dog before white teeth gleamed in the darkness. He tossed his torch aside, snuffing out the flame to confuse the beast before rushing into the darkness. If he made a run for it now, while it was confused by what direction he was coming from, he could seemingly get past it.

Or so he thought…

The beast’s massive paw came colliding with Yuuta’s body before sending him flying back against the wall. A low groan of pain emerged from the youth before he forced himself onto his feet. Blood seeped from the corner of his mouth as he wiped it away with his thumb.

“Clever beast,” he commented before grabbing his katana.

Yuuta rushed toward Cerberus before managing to stop its claws from striking him again with his katana before sending the blade through the flesh of the beast’s leg. Blood seeped from the wound, covering Yuuta’s face before the animal howled in pain and thrashed about, using its strength to try and take down Yuuta. Thankfully, Yuuta was able to dodge the onslaught before using the katana to injure the other leg.

“Stop!”

His body froze in place at the intruder.

“Stop it,” the voice was softer this time before Yuuta managed to make out a pair of red eyes.

“Who-?’ he asked, realizing the voice was feminine.

“What is a human doing here?” she asked.

Yuuta could feel the color draining from his face. It couldn’t be her.

“Answer me,” she hissed as the crimson in her eyes only darkened. “What is a human doing here? Get out… that is your final warning.”

It was the queen of hell herself. The lover of the devil. Perhaps, she would listen to his words.

“A-Aruna,” he began. “I’ve come here in search of my-”

Her red eyes narrowed. “... your lover is dead. You cannot save them. Not anymore,” she hissed. “Turn around and leave, mortal. You are not ready to be here.”

Her words made his stomach fall to his feet. It was impossible. “I want to see him.”

“He’ll kill you.”

“Then I’ll be with them.”

A heavy sigh left her lips as her gaze softened at his words. “You shouldn’t be in such a rush to die,” she commented. “Come…”

The walk was silent as Yuuta’s gaze stayed fixated on the dark queen in front of him. It seemed the rumors were true. She was cold and distant… it was said that her forced marriage to the king of the underworld only seemed to fuel her bitterness toward the world.

Aruna opened a door before walking inside. She signaled the guards to hold the door open so Yuuta may enter. His dark eyes widened as he took in the sight before him. Sure, it was dark - a perfect place for a king of the underworld, but it was filled with blazing torches and several extravagant decorations to flaunt the God of Death’s lesser-known titles of dealings with money.

“My queen…”

Aruna paused before looking up.

“What have you brought to me?”

“A mortal was found wandering the tunnels.”

Yuuta stepped into the room before looking up and seeing the God of death, the king of the underworld, leaning back on his throne with a smirk curling over his lips.

“He wishes for an audience with you,” Aruna explained before Sukuna motioned for her to approach the lesser throne next to him. Without question, she took her seat before a sigh fell from her lips.

Sukuna rested his chin in his hand before his red eyes flickered to his wife. “…for what? That silly dead-“

“I ask you to allow them to live. Let them leave this place and live out their days with me—!”

The grimace on Aruna’s face was enough to silence Yuuta as he knew he had made a grave mistake.

“Your lover is dead,” Sukuna spat. “A lost soul. You can’t get them back…”

“Please. There must be a way. Anything. I’ll do anything.”

The king of the underworld’s attention remained fixated on Yuuta before noticing his wife’s posture tensing in the seat next to him. “Anything you would like to say, my dear wife?” Sukuna asked, leaning into Aruna’s ear.

She turned to face him. Her face remained emotionless but the pain in her eyes was evident. “I think we should hear his case,” she whispered.

“…you sympathize with him?”

“He loves them,” she countered. “That much is clear. Why would he make such a treacherous journey if he did not truly love them? Let’s at least hear him out before you cast judgment.”

The smirk on his lips spread before running a hand through his queen’s fiery, red locks. “Boy…” he commanded. “Step forward. You may speak. You have my wife to thank.”

Yuuta was confused. Why would the queen of the underworld be so eager to hear his pleas after being so callous to him? Swallowing hard, he looked up at their thrones.

“Why?” he asked, quietly.

She was quiet for a moment, glancing away before returning her attention to him.

“Once upon a time,” she whispered, beginning a tale that sounded oddly familiar to Yuuta. A young goddess had grown weary of the life she was promised by her mother. She was to remain pure, untouched by any man or celestial being, and bring forth the spring each year. Everything had been so carefully calculated for her - the young goddess had no control, no say in her happiness… her own life.

The young goddess enjoyed her time away from her mother. And one day was seduced by words and promises to pull her away from the life that had been so carefully laid out for her. Quickly, she had agreed, disappearing into the darkness with a god, who promised her riches and a title no one could rival.

“And haven’t I showered you with more love and gifts than you could want?” Sukuna asked, his eyes fixated on his queen.

Yuuta was right.

This was her story…

She remained unmoved, staring at Yuuta. “She was seduced into darkness too soon. Perhaps, it’s too soon for your lover as well.”

Sighing, Sukuna stood up. “Speak.”

His body tensed, as the energy in the room shifted. “They-they were murdered,” Yuuta explained. “Taken before their time. The fates would never wish a fate so ill on any mortal. A monster slayed them…”

“A monster?”

“A centaur…”

Aruna’s gaze softened. “It pursued them?”

“And when they refused - it murdered them… I found their body… massacred.”

“Sukuna-”

His hand rose to silence his queen before staring at Yuuta once again. “You are correct the fates would not allow a mortal to die in such a fashion by such a creature,” he explained. “But, taking a soul back from the underworld is no easy task.”

Shaking his head, Yuuta shifted his weight from one foot to the other. “I’ll do anything.”

“I’ll allow you to lead their soul back,” Sukuna explained. “Under one condition.”

“Anything!”

“You may not look upon them once you begin your journey until they step out of the shadows and escape to the outside world,” he explained. “If you do… their soul is mine for eternity.”

“Sukuna-”

“Silence Aruna.”

Aruna sighed before looking away from him.

Sukuna returned his attention to Yuuta. “Do you understand?”

“…yes.”

Snapping his fingers, a figure appeared in front of Yuuta. His eyes widened before rushing toward you, encircling his arms around your body. Confusion washed over your expression, wondering just how you arrived here or why Yuuta was even here.

“Yuuta?”

His heart swelled at the sound of your voice saying his name in such a tender way before his grip on you tightened. “I’ve…I’ve come to take you home,” he whispered into your ear.

“Home…”

“Just remember our deal,” Sukuna interrupted.

“Of course,” Yuuta replied before turning away from you.

You were confused again as Yuuta refused to look at you again. “But Yuuta?”

“I’ll explain when we get out of here,” he assured you as he began walking away and motioning you to follow. Quickly, you followed trying to match the pace of his footsteps.

A sigh fell from his lips. Your footsteps… a reminder that you were still there. As long as he could make out your footsteps, he knew he could complete this challenge.

But the god of death wouldn’t give in so easily… Whispers of the dead began to fill the tunnel as Yuuta continued his long journey back with his lover in tow. He blinked, before shaking his head lightly. The whispers were becoming louder - harder to ignore. His lips fell into a frown.

“Yuuta…”

There it was. Your voice. Relief washed over him immediately.

“I’m right behind you Yuuta,” you continued.

“I know. I know.”

He strained his ears to listen to your soft footsteps, counting each one. One and two. One and two.

Are you sure they’re there?

Frozen, Yuuta stopped in his tracks.

He lied to you. He would never let anyone go.

The taunts were growing louder. Rubbing his head, Yuuta forced himself to keep going. Doubt began to fill his mind. Was she there?

“Yuuta,” you said again. “I’m right behind you.”

His steps faltered for a moment before a sense of relief washed over him again. Your voice managed to soothe the nagging sting s of doubt clouding his mind. You were there. Your steps were there. One and two. One and two.

Bright light flooded the tunnel, blinding Yuuta as he shielded his face with his forearm until his sight adjusted. The exit. Was it the exit? He took off in a sprint, knowing this hell was finally over.

“Yuuta! We did it!”

Your cheers were like music to him as the warm sunlight hit his pale face. A sigh fell from his lips before excitement filled his body. Quickly, he turned around to greet you. But what he hadn’t realized…

You hadn’t stepped out of the shadows yet.

“Yuuta… no.”

The light in your eyes before your body collapsed.

“No!”

Rushing to your lifeless body, Yuuta cradled you close to his chest. How could he have been so stupid? Tears flowed freely from his eyes before his body shook in remorse. How could he have done this to you?

He was so close.

And with that, the years passed. His body grew weary and tired. But not once did he forget about you. He embraced the idea of death, knowing you would be there to greet him one day and you could live out the dreams you once had planned for yourselves.

“Yuuta?”

His eyes widened before realizing he was standing in a beautiful garden, surrounded by flowers and trees. The blue sky above him was so peaceful that he couldn’t help but smile. He raised his hands, realizing his body was no longer frail, but young and strong again. Was this what death was truly like? What a magical place this was…

He heard his name again.

But the voice that spoke his name so gently, it couldn’t be…

Your name fell from his lips as he looked to see you standing with your arms outstretched wide.

“I’ve been waiting for you…”

He rushed toward you, embracing you tightly as a giggle bubbled from you.

“Welcome home…”

i can wait for you at the bottom

i can stay away if you want me to

i can wait for years if i gotta

heaven knows i ain't getting over you

[griseldabanks]

Okay, one more time.

Let me count the ways, 32, Steve and Bucky, Winter Soldier Steve please.

-Rain

Let Me Count the Ways ask game

Prompt: "Forgive me."

“Whoever he used to be...and the guy he is now...I don't think he's the kind you save. He's the kind you stop.”

Sam's words echoed in Bucky's head as he faced the Winter Soldier at the other end of the catwalk. The tall, blond man stood resolute, his face stony. Emotionless. Resolute. The proverbial immovable object meeting his unstoppable force.

If Bucky was unstoppable.

“No,” he'd said to Sam. “No way. He's...my best friend. He's still in there somewhere. I know he is.”

Easy enough to say, running that moment over and over in his mind when Steve's steely gaze clouded over with confusion, as he mumbled, “Who...Who are you?”

Harder to believe, now that he faced the man who had once been his brother, yet now stared blankly ahead as though they had never met.

The catwalk shuddered under their feet as Sam zipped past outside, drawing the attention of the jets towards the other helicarrier. The seconds slipped through his fingers, and Bucky knew he couldn't just stand here wishing things could be different.

What would Steve do? he asked himself. The real Steve.

Taking a deep breath, Bucky straightened, hefting the shield he'd first picked up from the floor of a train in the Alps a lifetime ago. “I don't want to do this, Steve,” he said, “but people will die if I don't. And I could never face you again if I let that happen.”

Steve said nothing, just raised his knife.

They both charged forward.

It was like when he'd tried to teach Steve to throw a punch, back when they were growing up. Except that now they were evenly matched.

It was like when they used to spar in between missions in the war, all of the Howling Commandos taking their turn against Steve to keep them all limber. Except that Steve wasn't pulling his punches anymore.

It was like that fight earlier, the one that had started on the bridge and then moved to the streets, where they matched blow for blow, strength for strength. Except that now there was no flicker of humanity in those cold blue eyes.

Slowly, painfully, clawing for every step, Bucky fought his way back towards the console where he needed to put the targeting chip in. He wanted to stop, to reason with Steve, to remind him who he was...but there was no time.

He knocked the knife out of Steve's hand. It was all wrong.

He bashed his shield—Steve's shield—into his face. It was all wrong.

He threw his shoulder against Steve and hurled him over the railing to fall far below. It was all wrong!

As quickly as he could, he grabbed the targeting chip in the console and pulled it out, reaching for the pouch on his belt.

Somehow, Steve was already there behind him, stabbing at him with a huge knife. Bucky knocked it away, but the blade glanced off the back of his hand, and he dropped the targeting chip. It clattered down onto the huge glass dome below them.

Ducking under Steve's next attack, Bucky dropped down from the catwalk, scurrying after their one hope of saving millions of lives. Steve leapt over the side, racing him for the chip.

Ever since the serum, Steve had always been just a little bit faster. He threw himself into a skid—the very same move Bucky had taught him decades ago, playing baseball at recess—and snatched the targeting chip with his free hand.

Bucky threw the shield even as he barreled forwards. Steve tried to block it with the hand holding the knife, succeeding only in both their weapons falling to the floor.

Coming in low, Bucky threw Steve to the floor with all his might. They rolled over and over on the floor, grappling for the targeting chip. They had never fought like this. Not with this kind of desperation.

Finally, Bucky managed to get on top of Steve, twisting one arm around behind his back while Steve clutched the targeting chip close with his other hand. Bucky put his hand in just the right place and pulled until he felt the arm pop out of its socket.

The scream of agony ripped through Bucky like he'd just dislocated his own shoulder. But there was no time to think about that. Before Steve could wriggle free, Bucky wrapped his legs around Steve to pin him down, locking both arms tightly around Steve's neck.

Steve struggled feebly, trying to hit Bucky with the fist clenched around the targeting chip, but his blows were weak. He kicked fruitlessly, his face growing redder and redder as Bucky's grip blocked off the blood flow.

As Steve's movements grew weaker and weaker, as he slowly lost consciousness, Bucky found himself thinking back to all the times he'd watched Steve drop off to sleep. Sometimes he would struggle to breathe just as he did now. Never before had Bucky been the reason he couldn't breathe.

He blinked away the tears he couldn't afford to shed. Not now.

As soon as Steve's grip on the targeting chip slackened, Bucky loosened his grip. “Forgive me,” he whispered, before grabbing the targeting chip and struggling out from under Steve's heavy weight.

Bucky hastened back up to the console. He wasn't sure how much time had passed. Time seemed to have no meaning when they were locked in combat, but he knew time was running out for Hydra's victims. He just hoped it wasn't too late.

As he struggled to pull himself over the edge of the catwalk, a sudden blazing pain in his leg alerted him to Steve's presence. He hauled himself up onto the catwalk before daring a glance over his shoulder.

Steve stood tall, bedraggled and bloody though he might be, holding his left arm carefully by his side. But he pointed a pistol directly at Bucky with a look of hatred he'd never seen in those eyes before.

Moving as quickly as he could, Bucky turned towards the console and inserted the targeting chip at last. He raised his wrist to speak into the mic. “Charlie lo—“

BANG!

Fire ripped through his left arm. Letting out a cry of pain, Bucky fell to the floor, peering through the metal grating at Steve carefully aiming at him.

Bucky's arm ached, but his heart ached even worse.

Raising his arm again was sheer agony, but he did it as he desperately crawled away around the console, out of Steve's sight. “Do it!” he snapped, not sure if his comms were even working anymore, what with all that blood dripping down his arm. “Fire now!”

“But...Bucky....” Maria Hill's voice trembled slightly.

“Just do it! Now!”

And in moments, the helicarrier burst into flames. With all three targeting chips in place, the helicarriers emptied their entire payload onto each other rather than the millions of innocent victims they otherwise would have killed.

Bucky wearily leaned back against the console, listening to the sounds of groaning metal and shattering glass all around him. They'd won. He'd succeeded. He was going to die, but at least he hadn't failed.

Then a scream met his ears. A scream of pain he knew all too well.

A voice in the back of his head told him it was no use. He might as well just sit back and let the inevitable happen. They were both going to die, so he might as well accept it. Steve would die, never knowing that was his name, never knowing who he was either.

Gritting his teeth, Bucky grabbed the railing with his good hand and hauled himself to his feet. He staggered around the side of the console, looking down at the wreckage of what used to be a glittering glass dome.

A huge metal beam had fallen down, pinning Steve into place. He struggled, heaving at it with his one good arm, but it was too heavy even for him.

Going to Steve's aid was like second nature. It was as natural as breathing. As unconscious as a heartbeat.

Though every movement sent pain shooting all through his body, Bucky dropped down from the catwalk, staggering as yet another explosion rocked the helicarrier. Miraculously, the shield lay unharmed on an intact pane of glass, so Bucky grabbed it on his way. He stumbled over to Steve, who glared up at him with more fear than anger this time.

He thinks I'm going to kill him. That hurt more than everything else combined.

Bucky only had one arm to lift the metal beam, but together with Steve, they managed to lever it up just far enough for Steve to slip out from underneath it. Slowly, gasping for breath, Bucky straightened and looked Steve in the eye. There was only one task left for him.

Captain America's last mission was Steve Rogers.

“My name is Bucky,” he said. “You're Steve. You are Steven Grant Rogers. Your mom's name was Sarah.”

Steve flinched, swiping at the air as if to brush something away. Maybe the shred of a memory.

“You used to put newspapers in your shoes,” Bucky continued, saying anything that came to mind. “You're scared of spiders. You're right-handed, but you spread butter on your bread with your left hand. You're really bad at spitting. You can whistle like a songbird. You had a crush on Lana Chase for four years, and you cried when she went out with Gene Forster.”

With each sentence, he took one small step forward. Steve stood, seemingly transfixed, eyes darting from side to side at this onslaught of facts about himself. Soon, they were an arm's length apart from each other. He could see the darker blue rims around the edges of Steve's irises.

“I know you, Steve. And I think you know me.”

Steve's teeth clenched, his eyes growing wild as if the very suggestion was more threatening than anything Bucky had done yet. “No, I don't!” He swiped with his good arm at Bucky, forcing him back a pace.

The sight of Steve's anguish, the way his brows pinched together with such confusion, such pain.... “I'm not going to fight you anymore, pal.” Bucky dropped the shield through a hole in the glass, letting it tumble to the water far, far below. “You're my friend.”

“No!” With a roar, Steve charged towards him, landing a punch on Bucky's jaw that sent him sprawling to the floor.

Bucky didn't fight back. He didn't resist or even try to protect himself when Steve loomed over him, raining punch after punch down onto his face, screaming over and over again, “No, no, no, no!”

Bucky let him, because he deserved this. He was the reason Steve had ended up in Hydra's clutches. If he hadn't dodged out of the way...if he had been the one to fall from the train....

He didn't know what unimaginable tortures Steve had endured to end up like this. The man with a golden heart, such compassion for those in pain, such a strong sense of justice...twisted like this into a mockery of the man Bucky had always looked up to, even when he was five-foot-four in his stocking feet.

So Bucky didn't mind if he died. Except....

Steve hesitated, his bloody fist poised to strike again. Bucky looked up at him with just one eye, the other one already swelling closed. He felt the sting of salt as a tear trailed down his cheek, trickling over a handful of open cuts.

“'Sokay, Steve,” he mumbled through broken lips. “Even if you kill me...I'll still be with you...to the end of the line.”

The world shattered into a thousand pieces around him, and he was falling, falling, falling, but he didn't even notice.

Because the last thing he saw was the look of horror that crossed Steve's face as he looked into Bucky's eyes...and remembered.

[the22ndcj]

Twintober Day 1: Chanting (this is unedited. Sorry LOL)

Had I been summoned into any other than a cat, I would have tormented the trespassers away from my domain immediately. As it were, I could do little more than watch as they walked through my home with wide eyes and excited words.

The brown haired stopped by the portrait my wife had commissioned when I was in human form. The fool!

They hadn’t noticed me yet, so I crept closer.

“That’s the dude,” the smaller, orange-haired man said.

“The husband?” The third man asked, the one with the two-colored hair.

“Yeah.”

I slipped under the entryway storage shelf and eyed them.

Who were they to judge me, Jonathan Anders! I had ended all of my rivals. Left that lazy wife of mine to rot in the woods, alongside my childhood rival Monroe, who I had taken an ax to. The damned fool–

“A cat!”

Suddenly, all three men were looking at me.

I hissed, popping out my claws.

“Pspsps,” the brown-haired one said, kneeling and sticking one of his bejeweled hands out at me.

I let loose and swatted at his skin with all my might…only then remembering that the current house owner had trimmed my claws to nothing more than rounded nubs! I let out a frustrated howl and retreated.

But the brown-haired one followed me to the next room.

Alone.

I dove under the edge of the sofa and waited. The other two hadn’t followed him. As the fool leaned down to look for me, I played at being scared, making the most pathetic meow I could.

“Pspsps,” the man said again, wiggling his fingers at me.

I glanced. The others still hadn’t followed.

“Riv, we’re grabbing B-roll upstairs,” one of them called.

Then I heard footsteps.

The brown-haired man, Riv apparently, got up to follow them.

I darted out and swooped around his leg.

Down he went!

He landed flat on his face with a thump. I jumped onto his back.

You fool! You fell for my trap! I gloated, yowling with fury as I sank my teeth into the back of his head.

Well, his hair anyway. I tugged at it, but he seemed to think I was playing with him. He LAUGHED at me. ME! Mister Anders!

Riv scooped me up and petted my back, making silly sounds at me. I swatted at his face. I went for the eyes with my claw-less paws and he finally took the hint, dropping me back onto my feet on the dusty floorboards.

“RIV! Come on!” One of the others shouted from upstairs.

“I’m coming,” Riv grumbled, following the voice. I scurried after him. My timing had to be perfect.

“I want to try chanting his name in the mirror,” the man with the two-toned hair called downstairs.

Chanting my name?

I was intrigued. I let Riv live…for now. I followed them upstairs into my old bedroom. My room had been my sanctuary back in life. I had heavy curtains on all of the windows, my lovely cherry wood writing desk and my plush bed, all now marred by years gone by.

I hopped up onto the foot of the bed as the fools gathered around the mirror on the wall by the bathroom.

They were amusing themselves while getting in place, tiredly joking and poking at each other like schoolboys. They had already chanted outside. Hopefully it wasn’t more of that nonsense!

They all settled suddenly, growing serious as they stood together in front of the mirror. Riv and the orange-haired man both had cameras in hand as they all leaned in close.

“Johnathan Anders,” they began, their voices low.

A surge of energy went through me, from my whiskers to my tail.

“Johnathan Anders,” they said again.

“Wait. My battery’s dead,” the orange-haired one said, frowning at his camera.

“Already?”

“I just put a new battery in it downstairs.”

No, not now! I couldn’t help a hiss.

All three men turned to stare at me.

If I had been a man again, I’m sure I would have begun to sweat. Thankfully, I was still a cat. I stared back, trying to lick my paw as a cat would. The man in the middle frowned at me.

“We should put the cat outside.”

“Yeah,” Riv agreed, stepping toward me.

No! I thought, struggling as he picked me up in his arms. Despite all of my struggling, Riv took me downstairs and gently tossed me outside onto the porch. I dove for the door, smashing my face into it as he shut it.

No! NO!

I howled, clawing at it. I was going to be free!

Panic subsided as I realized there was a window in the back basement which was always cracked. I ran at my full speed.

As I wriggled through the cobweb-covered opening, I heard my name echoing through the house from upstairs.

“Johnathan Anders.”

I bolted up the basement steps.

“Johnathan Anders!”

My paws slipped on the wood floor as I rushed toward the doorway to my bedroom. My body tingled with power.

“Johnathan Anders!”

As my name echoed through the desolate room, I ducked my head to step in behind the three men. They looked small now. They saw me in the mirror first, all three spinning at once to look up, up to where I loomed above them.

I grinned from under my hat and asked, “Yes, boys?”

[acim-ed-ortsac]

Nezuko! Reader in the Scum Villain Self-Saving System

When you died, the last thing you expected was to be reborn in another world. When you woke up, you found yourself a squirming little baby, alone in a dark place with an atmosphere that no normal human could survive on. With your awareness of surroundings, you managed to survive the dark place. During your survival, you noticed creatures witht he most peculiar and bizzare features and abilities — a python with a scorpion's tail, an elephant with lizard feet, and rhinoceros with a crescent on their horns and pythons…

Wait… Are you in the Scum Villain Self-Saving System!?

And you weren’t even reincarnated into any of the characters, but rather, an original one…At Least you have control over your fate.

Judging by the ever-changing weather and the bizarre yet dangerous creatures, you must be in the Abyss, which unfortunately leaves you with no idea what arc the story is even on. Which leaves you questioning your very own existence. The few moments you got water, you noticed your appearance was mostly humanoid with features from your previous life et your pupils were in slit forms, your irises are two different shades almost overlapping each other, and tattoo patterns of vines and flowers appeared on your arms and the rest of your body.

Initially, you wore no clothing before you hunted the beasts in the Abyss. Most of your clothing now are fur pelts and armours of scaled beasts — though they were not your best creations, they were made due. Another thing you noticed was your regeneration abilities, the first time was when you first started hunting and got your arm cut off. The pain was an ass but your adrenaline kept you from screaming and let your healing abilities regenerate the same arm. The only downside is that you have to sleep a lot to regain energy and you don’t really eat the meat…

At this point, you were starting to think you were a Nezuko copycat…

That proved to be true when you stumbled upon an injured Luo Binghe, who looked fresh from the surface. His disciple uniform was tattered and he was full of bruises and scars, the scent of iron hit your nose and immediately made you salivate. Your hunger hitting your stomach as it howled at you to devour the boy. Luo Binghe, who finally noticed you, became frightened as he scooted back as much as he could — which isn’t saying much with his wounds. You could imagine what you look like: a disheveled creature with a salivating mouth, eyes full blown with hunger, and claws twitching.

But no, you still have some humanity in you, despite your years in the cruel and harsh Abyss. The surroundings changed to that of a forest, trees and leaves and branches. Luo Binghe snarled at you as he pressed his back against a tree, fear rolling out of him. A cornered animal using whatever defense mechanism it has left.

With a grunt, you turned away from the boy, grabbed the nearest branch and bit onto it. Your fangs sank into the wood and your tongue caught some splinters. You winced at the unpleasantness yet disregarded it as you focused on the soon to be Saintly Emperor of the Three Realm. 

________

“Why did you help me?”

You glanced at Luo Binghe, who looked at you with suspicion. The fire crackled with life and provided with warmth for the both of you, night had fallen and you found shelter in a cave. You flicked a strand of hair from your shoulder, letting out a muffled grunt from behind your stick muzzle. You had cleaned up his wounds and wrapped them with leaves that you know had healing properties. Despite this being a Chinese novel, you were able to understand what he said despite your limited knowledge of Chinese.

You handed him your piece of meat that you hunted, which he didn’t take until he was sure it wasn’t a trick.

You now meet the possessive love interest of the novel, who’s also years younger than the protagonist. But there’s nothing you can do about that. Scratch that, more like you don’t care, you were just interested in meeting the characters. 

Though meeting Tianlang-jun would be a reward in itself.

From there, you got to know the boy and he got to know you, through scribbles on the ground that is. You taught him how to hunt, what plants were poisonous and had healing properties. And inevitably, you taught him that demons and humans were similar despite their differences.

“Do you think demons are bad?” Luo Binghe had asked this, now a twenty year old who towered over you. His mark on his forehead glowing proudly. You then glanced at him, his furrowed brows and uncertainty in his eyes. He had confided in his sorrows to you how his shizun pushed him into the Abyss and the feelings he had — has for his teacher. You were aware that this was Shen Yuan in Shen Qingqui’s body with his change of personality, but you wanted to shake the man for his apparent lack of brain cells. Instead, you took a deep breath through your nose. You let out a hum as you picked up a stick and started writing.

‘Aren’t there bad humans too?’

Luo Binghe scrunched his face in confusion yet nodded. You continued writing.

‘Then there are some good demons as well, like there are bad humans. Demons and Humans are like two sides that are unwilling to meet each other.’

His eyes widened in understanding, “I see, thank you for your wisdom.”

By this time, Luo Binghe warmed up to you. You two even had a routine where you would go hunt for food and he would cook it with whatever spices and herbs there were. Although you didn’t eat much of it as you found yourself not really hungry, mostly tired. The times you had to sleep for a long period of time, you would find yourself in a short of shelter with Luo Binghe guarding you. As time went on, Luo Binghe grew taller and was very handsome with feminine features that can mistake him for a woman should he wear the female attire. 

Sadly, your time with Luo Binghe was cut off when you two were separated during a hunt. But knowing him and his Heavenly Demon heritage and destiny, you knew he was gonna be okay. During your time alone, you contemplated on going up the surface to see the sights but doubts clouded your certainty. You weren’t completely Nezuko so there could be a possibility that you didn’t have immunity to the sun. But that fact should be applied to the demons of Demonslayer, not the demons in SVSSS. You could actually get real clothes there…

You shook your head before going back to living your life in the Abyss. Hoping that Luo Binghe would visit you when he escapes and become the Emperor of the Three Realms.

During one of your days scavenging, you came across a crawling infant with dark hair, jade green eyes, and grayish pale skin. The infant glared at you as it got into a defensive stance on all fours, growling at you.

…a cornered animal, how cute.

[lazyneonrabbitt]

MarchWeres NSFW prompt

Predator/Prey

Dwight x reader

Running up and down the stairs of the Sanctuary was not how you had planned to spend your afternoon.

It had been two weeks since Negan had successfully gotten your boyfriend bitten by the beast he captured and the effects were getting painfully clear now.

Dwight never snapped at you before, now he got agitated by even a loud breath and today it got so bad you walked out of the late night emergency meeting.

Which is why he was chasing you now, up the staircase and stumbling over his feet in rage. You heard him closing in on you, his growling breaths and heavy boots getting closer to the corner you stood behind to catch your breath. You had to get away from him, he scared you now. Whatever he was it wasn't your sweet lover who'd use his high rank to bring you food.

"Now, now. You're not making this much fun, getting caught so easily." This Dwight scared you. He always loved you sweet and delicately and now in those last few days all you saw in his bright glowing eyes was hunger.

"Ahw come on, honey. I'll make it fair and let you run some more. Go!" He wouldn't round the corner, his entire body felt like it was burning, his skin crawling and his mind howling at him to catch you. His girlfriend. His mate.

You sprinted at his "Go!" and took sharp turns up the emergency stairs in the hopes of losing him and ended up on the roof. The door wouldn't lock from the outside so your best shot was to round the small bit of walls surrounding the entry and stay still.

He didn't lose you, he had your scent and easily sniffed you out.

Each step he took after getting onto the roof took a toll on his humanity. You heard his growling breaths and deep, animalistic sniffs to find you, and when he did he wasn't Dwight. Scraps of fabric hung on his frame, remnants of your favorite shirt of his and strips of his jeans dangled as his tail swayed from side to side. He stood taller than before and the only way you could even still recognize the creature as Dwight was the fur color and the burned half of his face.

So even the all healing curse couldn't reverse Negan's torture. He missed an ear in this form, too.

His low growls had you frozen in place, unable to run because he's catch you anyways. He was already skinny as a human, but in this form it was even worse. The long legs and pointed claws, long thin snout it was all so lanky.

You were too scared to take your eyes off him as he approached, leaning down and sniffing at you before grabbing at you and tossing you aside. Not hard enough to hurt, but enough to bruise later.

The beast had space now, able to easily move around and pull at your limbs to get you where he wanted. He might have not been your Dwight in your eyes, but the beast still had his emotions. It became clear when you looked him over.

"Man, it sucks dates ate barely a thing anymore in this world.." You two sat next to each other on the staircase, enjoying a sandwich in peace. It was one of the few moments you had together. Lunch. Your shifts barely ever lined up and all the time you shared in your room was spent sleeping. "Yeah. I'm sorry, honey. I should get us a day off to just do nothing."

He always apologized, even when he didn't need to. "Hey, I'll even take a rooftop picknick. Maybe late night snacks and then fuck on the roof?" It was mostly a joke, no way of having any privacy anywhere in or around the building except for in your room. But still he laughed and agreed joking. "Yeah, sounds good to me."

The creature sat hunched over you with its muzzle barely an inch from your cheek. You felt its sniffing breaths on your skin but were too distracted by other things to mind it. The memory of your shared stairway lunch flashed by as you stared down his body and your eyes landed on his erect cock.

"Dee?" He growled and pressed his wet nose to your skin and pawed at your clothes.

"Okay, it is still you, right honey?" Your hands still hadn't moved as you watched him nod. The panic in your system started to fade slowly as you followed his movements and understanding you had no other way out than to give him his treat for capturing his prey. He won his game so he expects a prize.

He was still your Dwight, so you saw no real problem as long as he stayed calm like this.

"Okay, okay. Calm down with the claws, I'll help." He pauzed immediately, following your hands as they did the delicate work of unbuttoning your pants and unlooping the elastic from the button to pull down your zip. But as soon as that was done he was back to pulling at the fabric to get you naked.

He didn't lose his eagerness. His movements even mimiced those of his human self so you knew what was happening and when, so you knew you had to toe off your shoes before he yanked your pants down and went to push up your shirt and lap at your stomach and chest. He loved the softness and went to grab at your hips to pull you against him. It gave you a moment to unclasp your bra and within a second his tongue found your now uncovered tits.

You were so dustracted that the prod of his tip against your entrance caught you off guard and you you yelped a bit. His rumbling laugh relaxed you immediately after as he started working his way inside of you less careful than you were used to.

Little groans of pain left you but Dwight disn't seem to hear you, too lost in how good you felt. His tongue hanging out of his parted maw as he thrust into you lazily now that he was fully in.

The roll of his hips quickly turned pleasurable and your groans turned into whines and moans while your hands found his fur to hold onto and your legs wrappes around his hips.

Dwight started to grt sloppy, thrusts uneven and grumbling incoherently as he worked you both to your highs. His clawed hamd grabbed yours to lead it down bwtween the two of you, not wanting to accidentally scratch you with his claws, so you went to rub at your clit for him, just the way he'd always do for you.

With your walls clamping around him so deliciously he didn't need long before he shovee himself inside down to the base and spilling deep within you, the stretch of his knot pressing at all the right spots and pulling you over the edge with him.

When you both came back down you gave each other a look and couldn't help but laugh.

He might have lost his ability to speak in thia form, but the soft nuzzling against your cheek said enough.

[cauldron-of-oddities]

Bear with me dear people. This is not beta read and is just a short thing that popped into my head after my little head canon. 

I have also not written much fiction before or rather never.

In short, calming down in an Ekko cocoon. 

Cocoon

The obsessive heat and presence of the beast loomed over her, her shoulder bleeding from a claw swipe and her head throbbed from when the beast flung her into a wall. She had to get away. Now. Bracing herself for a close shot, she looked up and into the hulking wolf's eyes and everything came to a screeching halt. 

“You” it growled “You!” A louder snarl. 

No, no, no, no, no. No! It couldn't! Rang through her as she started to shrink in on herself. 

Panic rising in her throat, she’s only dimly aware of the deep thud of a metal hitting flesh. Of Ekko, on his hoverboard swooping in with one calculated strike, hitting the beast over the head, doing a sharp turn, grabbing her by the waist with one arm and flying off. 

…

Landing on a roof a good distance away Ekko lets her go and gets off his hoverboard. A worried frown makes its way onto his face as he takes her in. Her eyes vacant, seemingly staring off into nothing, her hands and arms wrapped around herself so tightly he can see marks from her nails forming. 

“Hey, you ok?” 

It hits her all at once,the blood, the pain, the scent of the chemicals, the memories…

It was all too much, too much! Mylo started screeching in her ear. “Your fault,” in a whisper, then louder and louder. “Your fault! Your fault! It's all your fault! Poor, poor little Powder. Your fault he's all like that” Mylo cackled.

In the distance, a pained howl sounded and the noise sent her hands to her head, grabbing, clawing, hurting… a scream starting to form. 

Something heavy and warm dropped over her head, but a good warmth now, nice, safe, familiar. Ekko had thrown his coat over her, head and all, just wanting to block out whatever was sending her over the edge. 

Gently, he pulled her into a hug. Arms slowly circled around her and onto her back, tucking her head under his chin, forming a cocoon around her. 

Dazed briefly by the movement her fingers on her head relaxed ever so slightly and as warmth seeped into her, as the soft pressure of the hug and the weight of the coat pushed quietly on her, she became aware of more. The scent of him, of something green and cinnamon. Of the slow circles he'd started to draw on her back, soothing the tension out. Of the rise and fall off his chest as he breathed slowly in and out. She focused on that.

“That's it. Just breathe with me” 

 A hazy, sleepy sort of calm was falling over her. Her hands finally dropped from her head and came to rest on his sides. Her fingers picking up the rhythmic pattern of his breathing. Everything was slowly being pushed away by the warm presence of her favourite person. The clamouring in her mind stilled, safety and warmth infused her and with a sigh, she sank into him. 

Neither had any idea how long they stood there like that, and if they were asked, they wouldn't care. 

She mumbled something into his chest. “Sorry, didn't catch that” she peaked up, her head slipping from under his chin and the coat falling back.  “Umm, next time…” she trailed off, then surer. “Next time I get like that, could you do this again? It's nice” His smile was enough of an answer, but just to be certain she knew. “Yeah, I can definitely do this again.” Nuzzling into her hair. 

-----

A headcanon for when Jinx is having a breakdown or panicking. 

Ekko throws his coat over her head and pulls her into a hug. The sounds get muffled by the heavy coat and it's still warm from him wearing it. Between the coat and his arms, his head leaning on hers and listening to his breath and surrounded by warmth and scent she can drift back down to a calmer place. 

[outstandingblue]

Promises to Keep

Thirteen - Almost Lost, Twice

recom!miles quaritch x fem!na'vi oc

| Masterlist | Chapter One | Chapter Two | Chapter Three | Chapter Four | Chapter Five | Chapter Six | Chapter Seven | Chapter Eight | Chapter Nine | Chapter Ten | Chapter Eleven | Chapter Twelve | Chapter Fourteen | Chapter Fifteen |

Miles almost losses Jiniraa and he (unintentionally) returns the favor.

cross-posted on ao3 here content warning: it's a doozy blood, animal attack, animal mutilation, stabbing, animal bite, loss of self, angst word count: 8.5k

The viperwolf latched itself onto Jiniraa’s arm and Miles felt his entire world shift. There was nothing else that mattered. All that shit he said earlier that day about the mission being the most important thing? Gone. All that mattered was getting Jiniraa and Spider and the team out of this mess. His vision was trained on Jiniraa’s form - the way the animal’s jaw pressed further into her flesh, the way her deep red blood dripped onto the forest floor, the way her eyes were wide and terrified.

The creature momentarily released its death grip on her arm, but latched onto her hip as it slid down. Jiniraa let out another howl of pain as its teeth sunk into her flesh, tearing straight through her woven pants. 

Viperwolves descended on the entire group. They usually picked on loners in the forest, not an entire group. The pack must’ve been beyond starving to challenge the Recoms, searching the group for the weakest one - that person would be the easiest to pick off. Spider remained encased in the center of the group; Lyle continuously threw glances over his shoulder to check on the teenager as he fought off every damned animal that lunged his way. 

Miles only saw red as he made his way towards the woman. Hunman Quaritch hated viperwolves for his own reasons - his scars originated from their deadly claws. He carried those markings as a badge of honor, proof even Pandora wasn’t strong enough to kill him. Recom Quaritch carried that same hatred deep inside, but the hatred would change into unadulterated loathing by the end of the night. 

Miles slashed the animal, forcing it to release its death hold on Jiniraa’s side before it fell to the ground. He forced his foot down its neck, hearing the satisfying crunch of its spinal cord under his boot. For extra measure, Miles stabbed his knife into his torso, ripping back towards its tail to empty the contents of its body onto the forest floor. Once the threat was beyond dead, Miles grabbed Jiniraa by the waist, dragging her back to the security of the group. Prager stepped to the side, allowing Miles to come through and then resumed his position. They were guarded by a wall of Recoms. She was awake and still breathing, but clearly in shock - the clammy skin and glassy eyes were enough proof. 

“Baby, you with me?” Miles slapped the sides of Jiniraa’s cheeks, watching as her unfocused eyes rolled around in their sockets, “fuck, eyes on me.”

He set his knife next to them on the forest floor, bringing both hands up to cradle her face. She was dazed as the chaos continued around them, but nevertheless she nodded. She had yet to realize the severity of her wounds, not noticing how her blood was collecting in two small puddles beside her.

“That’s it, there you are. There’s those pretty eyes, keep ‘em on me, yeah?” Miles softly cooed as her eyes locked onto his, dragging on the phrase to keep her focused. He was acting as her tether to the world. 

Spider had his back to the pair, acting as their second line of defense if the wall of Recoms failed. He tried to remain brave, but the shaking hands showed just how terrified the young teen was. He had never experienced a viperwolf attack of this magnitude before. His bow was drawn, but he couldn’t trust that he’d hit his target when he released. 

A viperwolf launched itself off a tree branch, aiming right for Zdinarsk’s head. The impact of the skeletal creature knocked her completely off balance, making her fall back and land on Miles. With the absence of Miles and Zdinarsk, there was an opening to the two most vulnerable members: Spider and Jiniraa. Viperwolves could smell the blood that was already split, making their mouth’s fill with slobber as they salivated imagining their next meal. 

Two sets of yellow eyes gleamed as a bold viperwolf darted forward, seizing the opportunity to take down the seemingly defenseless pair. Jiniraa was still out of it as everything seemed to occur in slow motion: a dark figure coming from above, Zdinarsk falling onto Miles, Zdinarsk and Miles wrestling a viperwolf, the viperwolf coming towards her and Spider. Right towards Spider. Spider. 

The blade on the ground gleamed and Jiniraa grabbed it. The weight was unnatural in her hand, the hilt heavy and straight rather than curved and sleek. She would've preferred her own obsidian blade in this situation, but there wasn’t time to think about that. She swung an arm behind Spider, hitting him in the knees and making him fall forward into the ground. She moved her body infront of him, crouching down to cover him as much as possible. Spider hit the ground just as the viperwolf launched itself into the air and six sets of claws came right for her. 

Miles snapped the neck of his viperwolf, a kill performed with his bare hands. His knife was long forgotten a few feet away on the ground. He turned to Jiniraa, watching a viperwolf launch itself at her for the second time that night. It made contact and the force made her fall backwards, rolling over her shoulder as she wrestled with the animal. She flipped them over, knees on either side of the animal's body.

Her eyes widened, enough to show the whites around her green eyes as she screamed. This time the scream wasn’t in pain, but sheer, unbridled rage. She extended an arm, wrapping her fingers around its neck to keep the snapping jaw away from her hand as the other stabbed the animal again and again and again. She sliced the animal well past its point of death, almost mutilating to beyond recognition. 

She rose up onto her feet as she bent over the corpse, unable to contain her growl as her throat burned in fury. She returned to her full height and joined the nearby Recoms in their defense. By the end, she took down four more viperwolves before the pack retreated into the darkness. Jiniraa stood, eyes wide and crazed as she looked around. Animalistic was the only word one could use to describe her current state. She wasn’t standing up straight, remaining slightly hunched over with a bend in the knees. There was a splatter of blood diagonal across her face, the result of her feverish violence. 

The people she cared about had been threatened and she protected them. She spent too many years living in fear, utterly reliant upon the people around her. No more of that. Now? She was capable and strong - she did not need to entrust her safety into the abilities of another out of necessity anymore. She could protect herself just fine and would bring a reckoning down on anything that dared attempt to harm those she cared about. 

Miles watched, completely speechless at the metamorphosis. A rebirth. This was not the same scared and weak woman he’d picked out of the forest over a month ago. No - she was a warrior now. Screw everything Jake Sully tried (and failed) to teach her all those years ago, continuously telling her she was the lost cause. No, Jake, you were the one in the wrong. Jiniraa always had this strength inside of her, she just needed the right people to push her. 

She was still on high alert as Miles approached her, slowly raising his empty hands to show he wasn’t a threat. She swung the knife - his knife - towards his chest, reaching to slash at him before she realized who it was. He crouched down to be more level with her, rather than the imposing mass he typically was. The burn in her arm and hip was starting to take over, making her grip loosen slightly, but she refused to give in and release the blade. Spider’s gaze flicked back and forth between Jiniraa and Miles, watching the latter approach her like she was a wild animal. 

“Sweetheart, put down the knife,” Miles bartered, volume low in volume, but firm in tone. She didn’t respond as her tail flickered around. He watched her blink twice, seeing her physicality change as reality settled in. She looked around the clearing, finding the bodies of over a dozen viperwolves littering the ground, varying in levels of disfiguration and mutilation. 

The weight of the situation came down on Jiniraa instantly, robbing her body of any strength. Miles closed the gap between then, catching her in his arms before her knees even hit the ground. He quickly pulled the knife out of her grip and tossed it somewhere behind him. He didn’t care where it landed. Someone else would pick it up. All that mattered was her. 

She clung to his vest, continuing to look around at the corpses. The blood from her hands was seeping into the material of his vest, making her sick to her stomach, but Miles didn’t care. Na’vi were supposed to protect the great balance and leave decisions of life and death to the Great Mother. She took that into her own hands, literally. Also - she didn’t just kill a creature and move on. No, she butchered the animals without care for the pain they felt. These deaths weren’t completely meaningless - they were necessary to protect Spider and Miles and all the other Recoms, but it didn’t make the gravity of the situation any easier. 

Jiniraa’s hands shook as she attempted to wipe the blood off her skin, but it was pointless. It was already beginning to stain. Miles didn’t care that she wiped the blood right onto the vest - that was the least of his concerns. She didn’t seem to notice that there was blood spewed across her face; if she did know, she would’ve emptied the contents of her stomach onto the floor next to them. Miles would have to figure out a way to get it off without telling her what it was. 

He brought one hand to cradle the back of her head, pushing her forehead into his chest in an attempt to shield her gaze from the carnage she had caused. A carnage he never wanted to see again. For those few minutes, Jiniraa was lost to her rage as her instincts took over. That wasn’t the Jiniraa he knew - this was a completely new side to her that she did not even know existed. 

Jiniraa pulled herself out of Miles’ hold, wiggling around as he tightened his hold on her. She sharply inhaled and whined in pain, making him ease up instantly, “Spider.”

He remained planted on the ground, watching her stumble and almost fall over as she made her way to Spider. He was ready to jump up and catch her if need be, but in the meantime he would let her walk on her own two feet. Jiniraa checked over Spider once, twice, and then a third time as she didn’t trust her own eyes. Spider complied to her examination, if he refused she would just get more upset. She wasn’t able to find a single scratch on him, truly a miracle.

“Oh, thank you, Great Mother,” Jiniraa breathed out, brushing the hair off Spider's mask. He sadly smiled, already seeing the consequences of her actions beginning to weigh on her conscience. This would be a night that never left, haunting her until the day she died. 

“‘Niraa? Are you okay?” Spider tentatively asked, voice laced with sincerity as he wrapped small pale fingers around her much larger ones. His gaze drifted to her bloodied arm and stained pants. The lacerations were deep and almost pulsating, making Spider almost lose the contents of his stomach. 

“Sweet boy, I am okay as long as you are alright,” Jiniraa sniffled as a single tear fell. 

Miles watched the exchange from afar, feeling voyeuristic as he listened in on their intimate moment. Spider felt the Colonel’s intense gaze burning a hole into the side of his face. He turned to face the echo of his father; Spider didn’t need to vocalize his question as they conversed through eye contact. You alright?

Miles approached the pair, taking a knee as he checked over Spider with his own eyes. He felt awkwards under the two unrelenting and scrutinizing gazes. It was bad enough when Jiniraa fretted over him, and now there were two of them. Although it was a foreign feeling, it was nice - these two people cared so deeply about the boy they were ready to lay down their lives if need be. 

The Recoms moved around in silence, trying to give the trio a moment of solace as they secured the area. They all knew their jobs, so there was no need to talk and risk disturbing the private moment. 

“Sweetheart, we gotta take care of your wounds.” Miles brushed his fingers against Jiniraa’s forearm, trying to get her attention. He didn’t allow his fingers to trail any further upward, not knowing how much pain she was in. The blood was still actively pouring from the wound, but it had slowed significantly as her heart rate returned to its semi-normal pace. Blood ran down her arm, creating a morbid criss-cross pattern of red and blue as it clashed with her natural stripes. The gash on her hip was worse, blood collecting on her pants and spreading quickly. As Miles called her injury to attention, the agony seemed to settle all at once. Her eyes rolled back as her mouth dropped open, breath caught in her throat at the trauma she’d been ignorant to thus far. 

Miles rose and wrapped his arm around her waist as he guided them towards a cleared area, one that wasn’t stained with blood and death. Spider awkwardly followed behind, not really knowing how he fit into the current situation. 

“Ja!” Miles called out, motioning down to the woman in his arms. The medic nodded, getting his small field kit ready.

Miles sat down first, letting his legs extend out. He expected Jiniraa to settle down next to him, so it was a shock when she boldly took a seat between his legs and leant back against his chest. She was completely drained - emotionally and physically, so there was no thought behind her movements. She instinctively sought out his body for comfort. The warmth reminded her he was there. This was real. He was real.

“I’m going to have to clean this out first, ‘ight?” Ja asked as he cracked open a container of alcohol. The smell burned Jiniraa’s nose, the sterile smell was something she was intimately familiar with from the extensive hours she spent in the lab with Norm, Max, and the other scientists. Still, that familairy didn’t make it smell any better. She nodded, grounding herself by gripping the material of Miles' makeshift shorts. 

Ja and the Colonel made eye contact, already preparing for Jiniraa to lash out and fight back against the pain. Miles snaked an arm around her bare waist, anchoring her back against his front as he nodded at the medic. The pain from the disinfectant was almost worse than the initial wound itself. As expected, Jiniraa attempted to escape the sensation, but Miles’ hold was unrelenting. The wounds needed to be properly cleaned or else she risked infection. His ears turned down at the pained whimpers and gasps that worked their way from Jiniraa.

Her hip was worse. Not only was it in an awkward place to reach, but it was also more painful. The animal’s teeth must’ve sunk in far deeper than her arm. As Miles helped her shimmy her pants down a little bit, allowing Ja access to the wound, Miles eyes were drawn to that familiar star-shaped scar placed an inch or do away from her hip bone. The bite almost perfectly surrounded the decade old scar in a morbid border. She’d been hit in that area twice, almost like Eywa had planned it herself.

Ja’s touch remained perfectly clinical as he worked to clean out her wounds. Only touching on a need be basis, working quickly under the scrutinizing gaze of his superior. 

As Ja finished, Jiniraa fell completely limp against Miles, attempting to curl into him and escape everything. Her chest continued to rise and fall with deep, rapid breaths, but now she’d endured the worst of it. This time yesterday, they were curled up in the safety of Miles’ bed where nothing could ever hurt them. Now? Miles could have lost her in the blink of an eye. If that viperwolf aimed for her jugular rather than her bicep, it would’ve been over. There would have been no shot at saving her, no matter how much Miles would have fought.

Ja pulled away to thread his needle, holding a flashlight between his teeth. Miles, as  opportunistic as ever, took the moment of privacy to press his lips against Jiniraa’s temple as his arm tightened around her. This time, it was to convince himself that she was okay. This was real. She was real. 

Her shaky hand reached for his free hand, pulling the appendage into her lap as she played with his fingers as a means to distract herself from the pain. Soft fingers traced each digit with feather light touches, running the length of the finger before starting over with the next one. She was tiring quickly, so the movement eventually became too much to focus on. Jiniraa allowed Miles to wrap his hand around her much smaller one, giving her a squeeze every few seconds. The blood was still on her hand, but he would deal with that later. 

Ja cursed under his breath as he continued to struggle with threading his needle - he was great at many things, but he certainly was not known for his ability to thread a needle. Miles rolled his eyes at the medic before feeling Jiniraa slump against him as she dozed off. He wanted nothing more than for her to sleep in his arms, but her health was more important. 

“Baby, gotta stay awake,” Miles murmured against the tip of her ear, slightly shaking her. The term of endearment had slipped from his lips the second time that night. The first time was out of pure fear, petrified at the thought of losing her. This time it was intentional, feeling appropriate for their situation. He almost lost her. There was no better time than the present to act on this.

She whined, fighting to stay as she waited for Ja to start working. She only flinched the first couple stitches before becoming accustomed to the sensation. Ja made quick work before carefully wrapping her upper arm with white gauze and placing a patch on her hip. It wasn’t ideal, but it was the best they could offer in the field. Dr. Renia Cox would be her first stop upon return to Bridgehead. 

As Ja treated Jiniraa’s injuries, the rest of the Recoms cleared camp. Lopez, Prager, and Lyle made three separate trips to dispose of the viperwolf bodies, dumping them far enough that any scavengers wouldn’t be tempted to approach the temporary settlement. Zdinarsk and Mansk remained on tour, surveying their surroundings for threats. None of them had any major injuries; Prager had a scrape on his right forearm and Zdinarsk had a killer headache from getting her head slammed into the ground, but they didn’t require immediate medical care. 

“I’m tired,” Jiniraa slurred against Miles as Ja moved away to regroup with the rest of the team. 

“I would be concerned if you weren’t,” Miles chuckled, the force of his laugh jostling Jiniraa. His thumb ran over the back of her knuckles, caked and sticky with a thin layer of blood. Miles called out, “hey, Spider, grab my canteen, would you? And her bag too.”

Spider made quick work of grabbing the half-full canteen and delivering it to Miles’ outstretched hand. The Recom pointed to a nearby scrap of fabric - a cut-off from someone’s pants - and Spider grabbed that as well. Miles doused the fabric in the cool water and began to wipe the blood off her hands. She remained complacent within his grip, allowing him to manipulate her hand however he needed to work best. Her eyes remained closed, trusting him to wash any evidence of sin from her skin. Even when it got to her face, Miles’ touches were light. He never dared to pull her skin taught, even if it meant it took longer to get rid of the blood.

When Miles was pleased with his work, he took a swig of water before offering the canteen to Jiniraa. He held it up as she took a small sip before resuming her resting place against his chest. Absent-minded circles were rubbed into her soft waist, “ready to sleep now?”

She nodded at Miles’ question, but made no move to stand. Her hammock was set up only a few feet away, so Miles easily could just carry her over. He made no effort to move either, enjoying their shared moment too much.

“Can I stay with you tonight?” Jiniraa quietly pleaded, the second night in a row she asked that question. She was scared of another attack, just realizing how close she was to dying less than an hour ago. Miles’ chest tightened at the slight crack in her voice, but warmed at the idea she felt safest in his grasp. 

“Of course you can,” Miles confirmed, pressing another soft kiss to her temple.

Jiniraa slid out of Miles’ grasp, leaving him momentarily confused before she laid herself down on the forest floor, back against the log he used as a backrest. His thigh became her pillow, arms wrapping around to lock his limb into place. He wouldn’t be able to escape her hold if he tried - not that he wanted to. He would stay still as stone if it meant she got a good night’s rest. 

Jiniraa didn’t fall asleep right away. She tried to maintain a little conversation, but Miles engaged as little as possible, hoping she would just fall asleep on her own. The words of Dr. Cox echoed in his mind - she needed rest or else she would seriously hurt herself. Well, the injured box had now been checked, therefore she needed rest more than ever. 

He reached over to Jiniraa’s bag, unzipping it with one hand. He struggled to rummage through, searching for the metal tin Cox gave her earlier that day. His fingers brushed along an interior pocket, feeling a piece of paper inside. Out of curiosity, he pulled it up quietly. There were two pictures: one of a much younger Jiniraa and two older individuals and a second of her with Sully’s kids. It felt wrong to look at them without her permission, so he pushed them back into the hiding place. Miles found the tin, pulling it out and applying a thin layer to her back. Maybe the numbing balm would help her sleep. 

“Go to sleep,” Miles softly commanded as he brushed hair from Jiniraa’s face, the scent of the salve lingering on his fingers. Her primarily one-sided conversation wasn’t slowing down anytime soon. The rest of the Recoms had already settled into the hammocks for the night - Miles offered to take the first two hours of watch. He wouldn’t have been able to sleep. He didn’t know it, but neither could any of his subordinates. They all remained awake in their hammocks, listening to every sound of the forest. 

“I can’t,” Jiniraa confessed, rolling onto her back to get a better look at Miles. He tilted his head, hoping she’d offer an explanation. She didn’t. It wasn’t difficult to gauge that she was still on edge from the attack, something everyone was struggling with. He grazed a hand against the curve of her waist to lull her to sleep. 

“I’ll make sure nothing happens, okay?” Miles promised, reaching down and intertwining their pinkies for a brief moment before pulling back. Another pinkie promise, this time initiated by big bad Quaritch. He didn’t know what that was - the action felt unbelievably foreign, but it seemed to work as Jiniraa rolled back onto her side. To help her sleep, Miles slid his arm down to the deepest curve of her waist, rubbing soft circles in possessive affection. 

At the darkest point of the night, sometime during Prager’s watch, a glowing jellyfish-like object floated down towards Jiniraa’s sleeping form. Miles’ hand stilled against her skin, the opposite hand tightening on his gun. He held his breath as the glowing orb floated above his fingers pressed against her skin for a few seconds before it bobbed down and ever so slightly brushed against his skin. A second one came down, finding purchase lower on Jiniraa’s waist and rested upon her bandaged hip. The pair remained still for ten seconds or so before floating off in unison, disappearing as quickly as they came. Eywa had forgiven her for the lives she ended prematurely. 

Miles kept his promise, staying up the entire night. He watched the watch change from Mansk to Zdinarsk to Prager and finally to Lyle. The night came and went without the slightest hiccup, but he was exhausted as the sun began to poke through the upper canopy of the forest. 

The Recoms woke slowly, moving around in silence as they prepared for the trek ahead of them. It was oddly domestic. Seeing everyone was awake, Miles allowed himself to get a few minutes of sleep - it would be better than nothing. Jiniraa woke up right as Miles fell asleep, working to carefully remove the heavy arm slung across her shoulders to move towards everyone else. 

Spider was perched on a low branch, leaning against a wall of vines as he worked on the tension of his bow. It took a few shots to get back in the groove, but once he was readjusted to the weapon he hit dead on time and time again. Jiniraa tossed a fruit to Spider, watching as he ripped it into smaller pieces. He slipped off the mask and popped a small piece into his mouth before sealing it once more. Jiniraa settled next to Spider as they shared breakfast in silence. 

A few yards away, Miles’ hand flexed, something he’d been doing throughout the night. Feeling nothing under his hand, Miles shot up out of his feet, knife ready and eyes wide as he searched for her form. Within seconds, he located her next to Spider. He slid his knife back into its sheath as he walked towards the group, trying to cover up the little panic he just experienced. Everyone turned back to their tasks, letting the Colonel believe no one saw. They all had, but no one dared to ask.

“Let’s get a move on,” Miles called out with his hands on his hips, “banshees are waitin’ for us!”

A series of whoops and hollers came from the group. They’d all been excited for this moment, especially after hearing stories Jiniraa shared about flying on her ikran Situ. Nothing compared to the freedom one feels as they soared high in the clouds. They would never ask outright, but they all secretly wished they would be permitted to tame their own banshees sooner rather than later. They also never asked why she would become so distant for a few hours after telling stories about her and Situ, but everyone had their theories.

Before leaving camp, Ja checked on Jiniraa’s stitches to make sure she didn’t tear them overnight. Miles hovered behind, watching out of the corner of his eye as he checked his rifle. There was a little blood on her hip, but other than that nothing too alarming.

Jiniraa and Spider led the Recoms through the forest, swinging from overhead vines and jumping on larger branches. They moved with ease, almost like they swam in water. The Recoms were a little less graceful, but it was a drastic improvement from their first days in the forest. Jiniraa came to a screeching halt, making everyone pile up behind her. Mansk took one look over the edge of the branch before shuffling towards Ja; the branch they were stopped on was suspended over a hundred yards in the air. A straight drop down.

“Somethin’ wrong?” Lyle called ahead, clearly out of breath.

“Take the boots off. They’re weighing you all down. Look at Prager - he left his off and hasn’t slipped once.” The Recoms exchanged warry glances as Jiniraa continued, “you wouldn’t want to fall, right?”

Mansk was the first one to drop down and hastily untie his laces, practically ripping the heavy combat boots off. Everyone else followed suit. Boots were abandoned in the forest, even though Jiniraa attempted to stress the leave no trace policy. Once everyone was barefoot, Jiniraa turned around and resumed her quick pace.

As they left the treeline, Jiniraa turned to watch the Recoms as they took in the Hallelujah Mountains. It wasn’t the first time they’d seen them - flight patterns had taken them through there countless times, but that didn’t make them any less amazing to witness. Marvelous. 

“Wow,” Zdinarsk whispered under her breath, slinging her rifle against her back as she took in the sights. The floating mountains were imposing, breathtaking, and terrifying all at the same time.

“Ready to climb?” Jiniraa boasted, almost bouncing in excitement. Spider slipped his bow across his chest as he moved to stand next to Jiniraa, a wicked smile etched on his face. He was so ready to see the Recoms get a taste of their own medicine. He wanted them to struggle.

Mansk seemed uneasy at the task ahead of them. He was fine with heights - fine as long as he didn’t look down. In the Hallelujah Mountains, it was impossible not to look down. Jiniraa sensed his anxieties as she moved towards the fidgety Recom, “you okay, Mansk?”

He nodded slowly, not looking down as he continued to take in the floating mountains in awe and fright. Jiniraa rubbed at his arm reassuringly.

“Everyone needs to listen to Spider and I as we approach where the ikran nest,” Jiniraa declared, raising her voice so everyone would take her seriously, “got it?”

She tried to be threatening. On another day, they would have laughed her off a little. Today? After seeing what she was capable of the night before? She had been more ruthless than any of them. They all nodded quickly. 

“You alright to do this?” Miles asked, pointing towards her twin bandages. There also was the bruise on her back, but he was less concerned about that.

“Of course I am, Miles,” she smiled up at him, voice dripping with sweetness.

“Just makin’ sure,” he raised his eyebrows with a small smirk. 

She turned around and took a step back before running forward and launching herself into the air. She landed on a small floating boulder, calling out as she stood up, “you’re going to want to get a move on!”

Her laugh was infectious as she moved, euphoric as she moved from boulder to boulder, using vines to pull her body up. Her body was much stronger than the last time she’d been up here, making her movements more fluid and easy to push through. The first few minutes, Miles was afraid for her safety, but he had faith in her once he witnessed the confidence in her body as she moved. She allowed her instincts to take over, her body able to move without thinking.

Spider followed close behind Jiniraa, trailing anywhere between ten and twenty feet behind the woman. He was smiling and laughing too, throwing jokes up to Jiniraa as they moved in tandem. The Recoms struggled at first, their fears dictated their actions rather than trusting their bodies. Once they got over that initial fear, they began to move with relative ease. Mansk trailed the furthest back, still not comfortable with the sheer drop below him. He blamed his lagging on the weight of his gun, arguing it was the heaviest and most awkward to move with. 

The first time an ikran flew in front of them, the entire Recom team halted in their tracks, instinctively pulling their rifles to the ready. Jiniraa clicked her tongue in protest, a sound they had all gotten used to when they did something she didn’t appreciate. One by one, they slung their rifles back over their sounders and resumed the journey upward.

“C’mon, keep up, losers!” Spider yelled down, taunting the Recoms for their slow place. They may have moved quicker than him on land, but this was his terrain. Spider Socorro, King of the Mountains.

Jiniraa clicked her tongue once more, scolding him for his taunts. She paused, hanging off the side of a boulder, “Spider, play nice.”

“They said the same thing to me in the forest!” Spider argued back. Jiniraa rolled her eyes, knowing he made a valid point. She couldn’t help but think how this resembled the childish arguments between Spider and the Sully children, she’s heard him say those words a hundred times before. He was just a child, trying to get people to recognize his skill. 

Jiniraa entered the cave first and Spider followed close behind. She walked towards the ledge, pushing her hands into the cool water that flowed from above. One handful to splash her face to cool down and the second to drink the pure, clean water. 

Jiniraa turned away from Spider, trying to hide her actions as she peeled back the material of her pants. In times like this, it was useful to wear pants that had such large vertical slits in them. She grimaced seeing the deep crimson pushing through and staining the bandage. Once again, she was grateful for the pants as it hid her torn stitches from everyone. 

Lyle was the first Recom to make his way into the cave system, obnoxiously letting out an ‘oorah’ while flexing. In quick succession, Zdinarsk then Miles then Prager, Ja, and Lopez together joined them. Mansk was the last Recom, leaning against the wall to catch his breath as he finally felt safe with solid footing under his bare feet. 

“Banshee time!” Lyle yelled out, flexing his arms for a second time.

Jiniraa’s signature tongue click pulled everyone’s attention to her. She stood at the opposite end of the passageway, but everyone looked past her. They watched as a dozen ikran flew down, screeching to each other as they soared through the air. The entire color spectrum was displayed on their mighty wings. Dagger-like teeth glimmered as the light caught them, each as long as their fingers. 

“Everyone needs to listen to me if you want to live. You must choose your own ikran and they must choose you. Take your braid out in front of you. See this at the end? You are going to use this to make tsaheylu, the bond. Once the bond is made it is for life. An ikran will only fly with one hunter in their entire life.” Jiniraa walked them through the basics. The joking tone Jiniraa had a few minutes ago was gone, replaced with unrelenting seriousness. The Recoms nodded, trying to internalize her directions. She looked over them, hovering over Miles for a second too long before turning around. “Come.”

One by one, the Recoms pushed through the narrow passageway, all having to bend over as they walked up the makeshift stairs. It was incredibly humid inside the cave structure, the walls were damp with condensation as it almost collected enough to run down the walls. The transition from darkness to light was painful, making everyone shield their eyes. 

Miles attempted to push Jiniraa behind him as they entered the ikran nesting grounds, but she pushed right back against him and moved around his arm. He wasn’t going to steal this moment from her. Spider joined her at the front of the group, crouching down as they stalked towards an overgrown root which he perched himself up on. 

The Recoms circled around, rifles at the ready for an attack. Lyle, Miles, Prager, and Zdinarsk took position near Spider and Jiniraa while Mansk, Lopez, and Ja moved in an opposite direction. Lyle quickly assembled a long-barrelled sniper rifle, pulling a small pouch from his waist to grab a tranquilizer bullet.

“I got this,” Miles grabbed the weapon out of the Corporal’s hands, not giving him a second to refuse. 

His back was to Jiniraa, so he was unaware of the deep scowl that settled on her face. She and Spider shared a look; Spider looked much more amused than Jiniraa did. She was upset with him - maybe more like upset at him while her true anger began with General Ardmore. It was the General whose threat caused Miles to accelerate her cultural lesson plans, jumping straight to taming an ikran when there were a dozen steps in between. 

Spider laughed, mocking Miles as he pointed the barrel at the closest ikran and gazed through the scope.

“What?” Miles asked, not knowing how idiotic he looked with a gun pointed towards an ikran.

“Na’vi kids younger than me do this with their bare hands,” Spider continued to laugh.

Miles paused and bit the inside of his cheek, contemplating his actions, “Jake Sully do it the hard way?”

“What do you think?” Spider challenged back. 

Miles focused on Jiniraa, who had placed between himself and his semi-son. She wasn’t paying attention to the banter, but watched the ikran with a wide smile on her face. Memories from her hunter initiation flashed in her eyes: the way she made eye contact with Situ and immediately knew he was the one for her. The way Tsu’tey stood back and coached her through the experience, shouting in pride when she finally made the bond. And most importantly, the freedom she felt as she flew off the cliff for the first time as an independent rider.

“You did too?” Miles asked, truly curious. 

“When I was fourteen,” she smiled, a distant smile with a twinge of sadness. “So that means big ol’ Quaritch can do it the Na’vi way, right?”

Miles pushed the rifle back into Lyle’s hands, mumbling, “don’t call me that.”

He didn’t know if he was referring to her insinuation that he was old - which of course, mentally he was older, but physically he was half a decade younger than her - or that she called him Quaritch. When the surname fell from her lips, he couldn’t help but cringe. He much preferred when she used his first name, much more intimate and reserved.

“What we doin’, Colonel?” Lyle asked.

Jiniraa’s stomach was in knots as Miles slowly pushed himself over the log. He reached back and grabbed the elongated braid, slowly bringing it over his shoulder as he approached the closest ikran

Spider laughed once more, moving to follow Miles, “this is gonna be good.”

“Alright, move up,” Lyle commanded the rest of the group. The rest of the Recoms continued to have their rifles drawn as they ushered towards the Colonel in a quick procession. Lyle tucked himself behind a smaller rock, giving him an open line of fire towards the banshees if needed. Zdinarsk and Prager followed the Corporal while Ja, Mansk, and Lopez hung back. 

Jiniraa kept Spider behind her, ready to push the human towards Lyle if a situation were to occur. 

Miles grit his teeth as the closest banshee rose up on his hind legs, extending his wings in a territorial and threatening display. He was stunning - primarily indigo and tan with bright orange splashed in intricate patterns. His chest was pale, almost bone gray and lacking much color, but everyone was able to see just how colorful he was as he returned to the ground. His topside was coated in shades of red, orange, and lighter shades of blue. 

Miles was light on his feet, bouncing around as he approached the ikran - almost like a boxer in the fighting ring, ready to see who would dare to make the first move. “It’s you and me, cupcake,” Miles grit out. It’s no surprise he would choose a nickname like that right away.

The ikran hissed and bared its teeth and Miles returned the favor. His hiss was more throaty and unnatural compared to other Na’vi. She’d never heard him try to make that noise, which was probably why it came out so awkward. Thus, their deadly dance had begun. The ikran had chosen Miles. 

He was quick to snap his jaw towards the Recom, to which Miles swiftly delivered a punch to the side of the creature’s face. Of course he would. Miles quickly dogged as the ikran swung its large head, trying to take a chunk out of Miles. He dropped to the ground, swifty moving under its muscular neck before launching himself onto its back. 

His legs locked together on the underside of the creature's neck, trying to secure him to its body, but it was a futile attempt as the ikran beat its powerful wings twice before dropping back down. The momentum suspended Miles in the air for a second before he came crashing down onto his previous position, momentarily knocking the air out of his chest. 

Jiniraa flinches from the impact, but Spider laughed out as the ikran continued to snap its jaw, “did I mention you’re supposed to tie the mouth shut first?”

“Thanks a lot, kid,” Miles yelled right back. He wanted to curse at the teenager, but he didn’t have much time to react before the creature threw its head back, smacking Miles in the face.

“Miles, make the bond!” Jiniraa yelled out, growing increasingly anxious as the fighting went on.

“I’m tryin’!” 

The ikran trashed under Miles, slowly inching them closer to the cliff edge. Everyone was helpless as the ikran took a dive off the side of the cliff, taking Miles with him as he clung to its neck. 

“Miles!” Jiniraa screamed out, throat raw in terror.

“Move up! Move up!” Lyle commanded, quickly pushing forward.

Jiniraa was the first to make it to the side of the cliff, searching for Miles. She watched him hanging onto the ikran by its dual queues as he disappeared into the mist. She could hear his screaming fading away, but it was impossible to see him through the thick clouds. She dropped to her knees, practically hanging off the side of the cliff. Maybe if she strained her eyes or ears just a little bit more he’d be able to find any proof he was still alive.

Spider came up behind her, grabbing onto her shoulder to pull her back from the edge. A rock shifted under her hand and fell down, demonstrating just how dangerous her current position was

“Can you see him?” Lyle asked, peering over Jiniraa’s shoulder as he looked over the edge as well. 

Zdinarsk joined Spider and pulled Jiniraa away from the cliff, watching as she fell onto her haunches. She was going completely numb - the longer she went without hearing Miles, the less hope she had that he would survive. 

The Recoms all held their breaths as well. They should’ve been upset with their pair of guides - afterall, they were the ones who brought them to this place. The thought that Jiniraa and Spider were responsible for the Colonel’s death didn’t sit right with anyone. 

After a minute, Jiniraa knew the Colonel wouldn’t be coming back. He was probably a puddle of blood, bones, and organs on the forest floor right now. No one could ever survive a drop from this high. Jiniraa sat on the floor, her hand over her mouth in an attempt to suppress the sobs that were building up in her throat. She didn’t try to stop the tears from flowing, but she wouldn’t allow her body to produce any sounds.

Spider remained at the cliff's edge, continuously scanning for any sign of the Colonel. Everyone else had moved inward, automatically looking to Lyle for their next course of action. He was the second-in-command after all and if Miles was MIA, Lyle was now the highest ranking person in the group. Lyle’s stomach was weighed down like a stack of stones - he knew he was capable of leading, but it didn’t feel right to do so at the expense of the Colonel. 

The same man who lived for decades as a human on the deadly moon. The same man who he followed around, hanging onto his every word. The same man who he’s looked up to since the day his boots hit Pandoran soil. The same man who had a woman crying out for him just a few feet away. It didn’t feel right. It was cruel. Pandora was cruel. 

“Alright, let’s go. We’re Oscar Mike. C’mon,” Lyle commanded. Slowly, everyone began moving past the Corporal with heads hanging low. Lyle laid a comforting hand on Ja as he walked by, seeing a hint of tears gathering in the Recoms eyes. They slowly moved to leave, heads hung as they accepted the second death of Colonel Miles Quaritch. 

Spider gave the sky below one final look before turning around and reaching down to Jiniraa. She didn’t hear a word Lyle had just said, unable to process anything as she blankly stared ahead. She felt Spider’s small hand wrap around her bicep, but couldn’t hear the words he was producing.

“Let’s go. We’re out of here.” Lyle’s first phrase was harsh enough to grab the pair’s attention. He watched Jiniraa jump as she snapped back into reality. She slowly turned around, still firmly planted on the ground. Her lip quivered ever so slightly as Lyle finished his statement, a little softer than how he began.

No one expected to hear the whooshing of ikran wings come up behind them. Prager and Mansk snapped into action, training their weapons towards the origin of the sound. Everyone else remained frozen as the Colonel called out.

His triumphant holler graced everyone’s ears, confirming they were not hallucinating and he actually was here - alive and well. Everything seemed to happen in slow motion and Jiniraa’s eyes fought to take it all in to internalize the memory so she would never forget it.

“Yeah! That’s right!” He called out, raising a first in the air to show how he tamed the mighty beast beneath his legs. The somber atmosphere was gone instantly as the Recoms began to celebrate the Colonel. The younger ones jumped around, hooting and hollering - Lopez jumped excitedly with his arms extended in the air and Ja pumped his rifle in the air. 

“Yeah, Colonel! Get some!” Lyle yelled as the rest of the unit continued to celebrate. Jiniraa hadn’t moved from her previous position quite yet, not entirely convinced he was real. 

“Who’s up next?” He challenged, swooping over the Recom’s heads, making all of them hit the deck. The close call didn’t make their celebration falter in the slightest. Miles continued in his victory lap before landing a few yards away from the group. He slid off, patting at the neck of his ikran and disconnecting their queues. Miles was ecstatic as he turned around, beaming towards the group.

Jiniraa rose from her seated position and darted towards the Colonel, launching herself at him as she wrapped her arms around his neck. He staggered back, slightly overtaken by the impact, but wrapped an arm around her waist to keep her pressed against him.

“Is this my congratulations?” He smirked down at her, exuding cockiness as his body buzzed with excitement. He fully expected her to slap his chest at the comment, but she didn’t. Instead, he could hear her sniffles as she pressed into his neck. “What happened?”

Jiniraa removed her head from his neck, bringing him face to face with her tear-stained features. Lashes clumped together and damp. A residual redness making her eyes darker than usual. Flushed cheeks and shaking lips. 

“Baby?”

Jiniraa then slapped him on the chest. It wasn’t powerful by any means, she clearly wasn’t trying to hurt him, “what happened? What happened!? Don’t ever do that again.”

“Do what?” Miles was almost offended by her pathetic little slap. Afterall, he taught her better than that. He knew what she was going to say. He didn’t need her to utter the words to confirm his guess, but for his sanity he needed to hear her say it. Needed her to vocalize how she cared about him.

“Scare me like that,” her words were muffled as she buried her face back into his vest.

“I promise.” Miles declared. Jiniraa loosened her grip around Miles neck, sliding against his body as her feet made contact with the ground once more. He didn’t ease up at all, keeping his one arm trained around the small of her waist.

“You’ve been promising a lot recently.” 

Miles rolled his eyes, nudging her to walk back towards the group. He followed close behind as his hand ghosted her back to remind her of his presence. Once they stopped, she lent back, allowing his palm to make direct rather than indirect contact. His eyes flicked down for a moment, confirming that she moved on purpose, she wanted to feel his comforting hand against her skin. 

Lyle was the first to come up, already laughing with one hand extended. Miles joined in the mini celebration, locking his arm around the Corporal’s forearm as they clapped each other on the back. “He lives!”

“Not too bad, old man,” Spider called out, trying to hide the smile on his face. 

Miles’ ears flattened as his eyes narrowed and tail swished, “don’t call me old.”

Jiniraa clicked her tongue and lightly smacked a hand against Miles’ arm, “be nice.”

She lent into Miles' side, feeling his hand boldly wrap around her waist and settle on her hip, not caring about the group watching them. They all knew what was up, so there was no point in trying to hide it. If he could trust them with his life, they could be trusted with this.

Miles would never admit to it, but he was scared shitless as he fell through the sky and grabbed onto the ikran like his life depended on it. Well, his life did depend on it. If he died trying to take that fucking ikran, he would be abandoning the entire team. He would abandon Spider, the boy he was just starting to make headway with. Most of all, he would abandon Jiniraa, the woman who he just started to accept his feelings for. His grip tightened on her waist - if he got any rougher, he would be leaving imprints in her flesh.

“Well,” Miles boomed as Cupcake roared in the background, “who’s up next?!”

Next: Fourteen - Your Fault

●●● 

its 3am est and i have my history of medcine class at 8am. victorian surgery on three and a half hours of sleep here i come <3

i know i keep saying this, but i have a lot planned for the next three chapters. i keep wanting to rush into it and get to the exciting stuff, but it's important to lay the scene and build everyone up before delving into the nasty enjoyable things

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