#the water isn’t green it’s just covering the grass

[crowcryptid]

Swamp reclamation in progress

[luveline]

I've read your vampire eddie fic and its soo lovely I adore them being weird toghether <3 and I thought how will reader and eddie pass the summer? I totally see her saying shit like Vlad please put on some sunscreen lol and eddie be so grumpy

“It’s not that you don’t like it,” you’re saying. 

“No, that’s exactly what it is.” 

You sit down on the picnic blanket by his hip with a plate of summer fruit sweating in your hands. You’ve dotted a few ice cubes through the mountains of it, water melting, turning pink from the melon and yellow with the pineapple juice as the sun bears down.

“The sun is good for you,” you say, taking a slice of apple with green, bright rind in between two fingers. You have very pretty hands, Eddie’s thought that ever since you met, and they’re prettier still because of how you use them, you’re oh so gentle. “Just like this.” 

He won’t let you feed him, taking the apple as you press it to his lips, juice and water wetting his fingers. “The sun does nothing for me. I’m dead.” 

“Are you?” you ask, a genuine curiosity to your tone as you put the plate in front of him. Eddie, on his front, anticipates your next move before you’ve decided, not just because of his super senses but also because you’re a predictable creature, who loves him very much. Unlikely and true. “I thought you were only half dead,” you say, resting a hand by his ribs and leveraging yourself across his back in a hug. “Well, I thought you were undead.” 

Eddie is regrettably undead. “I forgot you were the expert on my condition,” he says, putting the apple slice in his mouth whole.

“Your condition,” you say, your face slotting into the back of his neck, forcing him to close his eyes and settle into the blanket, grass beneath it crisp from the heat. 

“My vampirism.” 

“Ah, I thought you meant your behavioural issues.” 

“Of course you did.” 

You don’t say anything back. Quiet, your hands slide up in front of his armpits, your head lolling heavily to one side. You mouth a word against his neck, a second and third, but Eddie can’t decipher what it is you’re saying even with his incredible hearing, can only feel the soft curve of your lips as they shutter closed, hot like a fresh bruise beneath his ear. 

Eddie nudges you to slide off of him, turning, cautious of the plate, to offer you his arm, and to see your face more clearly. You’ve forgone any of your fun makeups today, weary of the heat, all your wrinkles and lines in stunning detail under his gaze.

You lay on your side and Eddie lifts the arm that isn’t supporting him with his finger bent into a tight ‘n’ to stroke the skin under your chin. “You’re pretty,” he says, his knuckle rubbing back and forth. 

“You’re beautiful,” you say back. The hair at the nape of your neck is damp with sweat, and as you both lay there in the humidity, a bead of it races suddenly to sink into the fabric of your top. 

“You’re really pretty,” he says, ignoring your deflection —though for you, he doubts it’s a deflection at all, only a thought you’d had and spoken without qualm— in favour of lavishing you with some more love and praise. He opens his palm and touches his fingertips to your cheek, conscious of the heat, stringing the words together slow as the heavy pour of a maple tapper, “I don’t like the sun, it’s hot, and I’m melting, but I don’t think I mind it when you’re here too.” 

Your heart does a jump, to his smugness, an audible caper of your pulse. “Everything’s better when we’re together,” you say. 

He nods severely and lifts your chin just a touch, tilting his head to the side to kiss you. The pressure of his fangs is forgotten, a blood sate too far away to ignore the more nefarious longing that thrums at the centre of his chest, but overpowered anyways by practice, and desire; he’s gotten a thousand times better at kissing you, because you like to be kissed, and he likes to give you anything he can. 

He can’t pretend he doesn’t like this, either. You cover his hand with yours and wade in like a quick tide, pulling back and pushing in, like nips without the pain. Your hand slips into his hair. “I love you,” you say, “but you’re sweating like crazy.” 

“You’re sweating worse,” he says. 

“We’ll have to take a vacation.” 

“Where do you want to go?” 

“Literally everywhere cold.” 

Eddie can’t leave Hawkins. He needs blood, and there’s only one sheriff who’s willing to source it for him. But it’s a nice idea, a fantasy he won’t ruin for you. “Where’d you want to go first?” 

“I wanna go to that place with the Northern Lights. We’d never complain about sweating again.” 

You squint at him. 

“What?” he asks. 

“Where do you want to go?” you ask. 

“Anywhere with you.” 

“Well, you’d have to.” 

“Oh, yeah? Why’s that?” he asks. 

“I’m your only portable blood bag, Eddie.” 

He lays back on his back, covering his eyes with an arm as the other comes to rest on his soft stomach, whirl of a scar thick beneath his shirt. “Never gonna happen.” 

You shuffle closer to him. “One day,” you say, laying down next to him with your face nearly flat to the blanket, the heat of your body a palpable thickness he wouldn’t change for the world, dehydration inevitable. “You’ll give me a nice sharp kiss and that’ll be that.” 

“Never.” 

“Imagine it.” Your voice turns to a whisper. 

“Never, babe,” he says, he promises, the weight of his arm over his eyes like an iron. 

“I’ll just have to bite you instead.” 

You open your mouth and press your teeth to the hill of his shoulder, dull and wet, your breath like a kiss before you let your lips drift shut and give him a proper one. “Love you,” you say. 

“Love you, freakazoid.” He wrestles you into a cuddle he’ll regret sooner rather than later, wishing his vampirism were better at keeping him cool. He’s cold to the touch most of the time. Right now he’s baking. “But I’m not biting you,” he says into your forehead. 

You laugh breezily. “Not today you’re not. That’s why I made fruit salad.” 

[vienssunshine]

Come Over for a Swim, Darling

pairing: Nanami Kento x fem reader nsfw word count: 4.9k author's note: This was the winner from the poll! It was supposed to be bite-sized but the story got away from me. Parts are inspired by our queen lana del rey. description: You take your neighbor up on the offer of his pool on a hot summer day.

He’s such a gentleman, isn’t he? 

It’s been an unforgivably hot July this year, so it was perfect when the man next door offered his pool for whenever you needed to escape the relentless heat.

“Anytime you need, even if I’m not home, you’re welcome to come over for a swim,” your neighbor Nanami had told you at the annual block party.

So as you’re packing a pool bag, fighting through the hot, humid air your busted AC does little to improve, the only emotion you feel is immense gratitude. 

You cross the street to his house, noting that his car is still parked in the driveway. Maybe you should knock on the door? Let him know you’re here?

No, that would probably bother him. He could be busy with things around the house and, since he’s doing you such a huge favor, you want to be as little of a nuisance as possible.

You have his number—he gave it to you at the block party in case there’s ‘anything you might need’—so you pull out your phone and type out a text to him:

“Hey! Thanks again for letting me use your pool, I just wanted to let you know I’ll be there this afternoon.” 

After sending the message, you let yourself into his backyard through the gate in the white fencing. 

Your neighbor never talked much about his work, but it’s clear that it pays well. The backyard is spacious and well taken care of with mowed, bright green grass covering the area, only broken up by the cement surrounding the large tropical blue pool just behind his house. Lawn chairs line the near side of the pool and there’s a garden with a large tree that droops over the water on the far side. 

You place your bag down on one of the lawn chairs and stretch out, enjoying the warmth of the sun on your skin, though you’re quick to favor the coolness of the pool when you crouch down and swipe your fingers through the water.

Your phone buzzes. It’s a text from your neighbor:

“Of course. Let me know if I can get you anything.”

You smile, he’s so kind to you. A girl could get the wrong idea. It doesn’t help that he’s tall, built, and handsome. Somehow, he’s unclaimed; you’ve only ever seen one car in his driveway.

After pulling off your cover-up to reveal your white bikini, you wade into the pool. The cool water welcomes you, and you lower yourself down to sit on the steps, submerging your poor, overheated body up to your shoulders. It’s refreshing to a cellular level and exactly what you need after a long, scorching summer. You lean back, arms behind you on the stairs and sunglasses resting on the bridge of your nose. 

Your gaze floats around your surroundings, noting that you wouldn’t mind living like this, able to enjoy the luxurious backyard whenever you please, until you catch a small movement in the corner of your eye. You follow it to see your neighbor peering down at you through his upstairs window.

He must be checking up on you, how sweet of him. You push your sunglasses down, eyes locked on his, and bring your hand up to give him a little wave. 

Nanami returns the gesture and softly smiles. You expect him to close the curtain and return to whatever he was doing, but he doesn’t, seemingly having a hard time pulling his eyes from the sight of you enjoying his pool.

How interesting.

You sit up, water dripping off your chest and leaving behind little droplets that make your skin glitter in the sunshine. His eyes flick down to your bikini top, only for one, shameful second, but you still notice. It sends a rush through your veins; you like his attention, and he doesn’t appear interested in taking it away. This could be fun.

His stern eyes follow your hand as you run it up from your stomach, to your collarbone, and finally to one of the white, thin straps of your top. You enjoy how Nanami, whom you’ve deemed a stoic man, appears impacted by your roaming touch, eyes slightly widening as your delicate fingers push the strap off your shoulder. 

You move further into the pool, turning around in the water so your back faces the window, and watch Nanami’s face, determined to soak up any micro-expression the man was willing to concede as you drop the other strap from your shoulder. 

His big hand comes up to the collar of his button-up, pulling the patterned tie around his neck loose. The man’s waning restraint makes you giggle, simply delighted by how your teases are affecting him. 

You submerge further into the pool so the water is level with your collarbone, and the man’s gaze is unwavering as your hands come around your back to unclasp your bikini top. You turn and toss it onto the cement surrounding the pool, but when you look back to the window to see the spectator’s reaction, you find it empty.

The back door slides open. Nanami’s tall body consumes the doorway as he stands in the threshold, tempted but still hesitant, like he’s wavering between worlds and just a step away from fully giving in to you.

He greets you calmly as if the situation he’s in—having his topless neighbor in his pool—isn’t notable or unwelcome in any way. “Hello.” 

You smile at him, coquettish and daring, “Hi.” 

“How are you enjoying the pool?” He leans against the door frame, arms crossed over his chest with a smirk on his face you can only find if you look for. 

“I like it a lot,” you respond, moving to the pool’s edge and leaning on it, the water the only thing keeping you modest. “I’d like it a lot more if you joined me.”

“I think I’d feel the same.”

“Okay, go put on your suit,” you giggle. He’s still wearing his work clothes, long pants and a button-up—attire that’s unacceptable for such a hot day. 

“That will take too long,” he says, “I’m fine in this.”

He walks to the pool's edge and stops, looking down at you. Though you don't know it, with his line of work, it’s always best to approach unfamiliar situations with a level of caution, and something like this has never happened to him.

Only when you call to him, voice silken and sweet like a siren’s, his sorcerer mindset of constant suspicion is forgotten. “Come into the water, Kento,” you say, and it ensures there’s no way Nanami can refuse your request. Compelled, he removes his leather shoes and joins you in the pool, sitting down on the submerged steps and paying no mind to how the water soaks his expensive work clothes. 

You glide over to him and settle down on a step below his so you can keep the veil of water over your chest. He brings a big hand to your cheek, drinking in every feature of your face as his thumb strokes your warm skin. 

“So nice to me,” you hum, leaning into his rough palm, “letting me use your pool.” You rest your arm on his clothed thigh and smirk. “Did you expect this to happen?”

“I didn’t,” he confesses, “But I’m glad you took up my offer.”

“Me too,” you say, dipping your chin down and looking up at him with your pretty eyes, “Can I show you how grateful I am?” 

He's breathless when he responds, "You may, dear."

Then you're climbing up his built body, water falling off of you, so you can lean forward and press your lips to his. When he processes what’s happening—that the neighbor he hasn’t been able to shake from his mind is kissing him—he melts into it, a big arm wrapping around your waist and the other coming up your bare back, his hand cradling your head and pushing you into him. 

You smile against his mouth, elated by the win of seducing your hot next-door neighbor, and he notices, of course, but just feeling your soft body against him is enough to decide to be as sweet as you are being to him. 

The hand on the back of your head gently tugs at your hair, pulling a gentle sigh from your lips which he uses as an opening to deepen the kiss. Though he’s pushing you into him, with his tongue rolling over yours, you can tell he’s tempering himself. There’s flashes of impatience and desperation, with the way he nips your lips or roughly squeezes the softness of your sides, but they’re actions he quickly suppresses. It makes you wonder if he’s holding back for a reason, if he wouldn’t be able to stop if he were to fully indulge in you. 

“Pretty girl,” he whispers into your mouth in a momentary pause, and the low notes of his gruff voice send the thoughts out of your head and heat rushing to your cheeks.

Then he pulls you from his side into his lap, your wet body—and bare chest—now pressed against his as you straddle his soaked pants. His shoulders are underneath your palms, and you tighten your fingers around them, squeezing the thick, sturdy muscle the wet fabric sticks to; he feels stronger than he looks.

“I appreciate”—he kisses your jaw—“how you express”—then your ear—“your gratitude.” His last kiss is placed on your neck, and you gasp—you’re so sensitive there—and cant your hips into nothing. 

“So needy,” he remarks with a low chuckle, hands traveling down to your sides, conducting electricity through your nerves as they move, “At first, I thought you just needed my pool, but now I think you need more.”

“Need you,” you tell him, almost whining, pulling at the tie loose around his neck, “Now.”

“You need to be taken care of,” he agrees, thumbs rubbing slow circles on your hips. He places a soft kiss on your cheek. “Let me make you dinner, sweet thing. Why don’t you come inside?”

His suggestion, one you’d normally appreciate, seems unreasonable with the painful ache pulsing through you. You lean forward, pressing a wet kiss on his neck that pulls a groan from him. “Kento, that sounds nice, but I want you, not dinner.”

His hands land on your shoulders, rendering you still. “I know, darling, but I can’t take care of you how I want in the pool. Please, let me dry you off and feed you first.” 

You huff, which he finds amusing, but give in to his request, allowing him to help you out of the pool, wrap a warm, fuzzy towel around you, and lead you inside. 

Your body is frustrated with you, wanting release so badly, but he’s right, a pool isn’t the most pleasant setting for sex, and you should eat something as you haven’t eaten since this morning, too distracted with trying to fix your AC. 

Nanami steps away for a moment and it gives you some time to check out his living room. The interior of his house is as impressive as the exterior: spacious, clean, and decorated in a way that invites you in. Interestingly, there aren’t any picture frames around the house, rather, the shelves are filled with books, all academic-looking and on niche topics regarding the supernatural.  

Nanami returns dressed in dry slacks and a short-sleeve button-up. He has a change of clothes for you, a big t-shirt and sweatpants, presumably his own. 

It’s still hot–and you feel like testing him–so you tell Nanami that: “Just the shirt is fine.” You put it on, though it’s more of a dress with the way it covers the first few inches of your thighs, and then pull your bathing suit bottom down and step out of it, leaving nothing underneath the shirt-dress. Nanami stares at you, eyes wide. 

“Can’t stay in my wet bikini,” you say, unsticking the long shirt from your wet thighs. 

“Right,” he says, regaining his composure and taking the bottoms from you, “I’ll hang it up with your top.”

For dinner, he makes you a pasta dish, and it’s delicious, but what you enjoy more is teasing him as he cooks, never letting him forget what you really want from him. You make multiple attempts at convincing him to forgo the dinner plans and head to his room, just so distracted by how his hands move and forearms flex as he prepares the food, but make little headway. 

After the meal and patiently dealing with your quips that were only exacerbated by your glass of red wine, he leads you up a tall staircase to his bedroom. The lighting from the lamps on either side of his bed is soft and warm, and a glance at the dark window tells you that the night has been much longer than you realized.

He shuts the door behind you.

“Finally,” you sigh, leaning up to kiss him, but his rough hand on your shoulder stops you, bringing a confused frown to your face.

He takes his hand from your shoulder and uses it to tilt your chin up, his eyes darker than before. “You’ve been teasing me all night and expect me to reward that behavior?” 

“You’re saying that like you didn’t enjoy it,” you respond, because if this is the game he wants to play, you’ll play it. 

“However I felt does not change the fact that you were trying to work me up.” 

You smirk up at him, guilty as charged.

Nanami puts his hand on the small of your back, guiding you to the foot of the bed. Then he waits, staring at you expectantly, so you sit down on the edge of the mattress, making sure the hem of his big t-shirt just barely covers the glistening mess between your legs. His eyes flick down to the tease and his jaw clenches.

“So you’re going to punish me then?” you wonder, thrilled by how riled up you’ve gotten your poor neighbor. 

“I’ll see if it’s possible for a brat like you to behave first,” he says, parting your thighs. The breath he lets out at the sight of you is shaky. “Look at that,” he says, thumbing your wet folds. 

You’ve been left wanting for his touch for too long, so your head falls back at the sensation of his hands against your plump lips, “I like feeling you there,” you admit, your voice breathy.

He hums, pleased, and continues to stroke you, fingers dipping in and out of your wetness, before he removes them and sinks down to his knees so his face is level with your cunt. 

You allow your legs to fall open further, and he places his rough palms on the insides of your thighs to ensure they’ll stay that way. His hot breath fans against your folds, making you quiver with anticipation. When he leans forward and starts to eat you out, the only coherent thought you can think is: he knows what he’s doing.

It’s embarrassing, how you were talking so much talk, trying to woo your handsome neighbor with your honeyed words, and now the only thing coming out of your mouth is a series of whines and gasps as he glides his tongue along your folds. You bring your hand down, knotting it into Nanami’s golden hair, but he’s quick to remove it.

He tsks, “None of that. You’re going to be quiet and sit still like a good girl.” 

Be quiet and sit still? When he’s making you feel so good? Does he know he’s asking the impossible? 

You begin to whine before he interrupts you, “Do you want me to keep going?”

Wanting him so badly for the entire night and getting only a taste of the pleasure he can give you, it’s making the space between your legs hurt. Truthfully, you’ve been aching for him this whole time, and you just want to feel better.

He’s watching you, sharp eyes evaluating what you’ll say next, even though he knows the truthful answer to his question. 

Defeated, you nod. He smiles. “Good girl. Now, stay still for me.” 

He returns to his spot nestled between your thighs and pushes his tongue through your folds once more. The action would have earned a delighted sigh from you if you weren’t trying so hard to keep it in. Your teases must have really gotten to him if his retaliation is this cruel. 

It becomes harder to pretend you’re unaffected by his touch when his tongue begins to close in on your clit, all swollen and sensitive. He’s been circling around the area, never making direct contact until now, when he gently flicks his tongue against it. Your body seizes and your mouth opens wide in a silent gasp. 

He waits a moment, seeing if you’ll crack, but you don’t. 

“So good,” he purrs, and warmth flows into your lower stomach. 

His hands squeeze the flesh of your thighs as he encourages the tornado of heat twisting in your stomach with the gentle licks of his tongue on your clit. You should be given an award for how well you’re holding up, fighting to keep still and letting the man pleasure you how he wants all without allowing the noises your body needs to make escape your lips, which are now swollen from biting into them. 

“Alright, I think you’ve proven you can be good when asked to be,” he says, kissing your clit, “So you don’t have to restrain yourself anymore.” 

You should have learned your lesson by now, it wasn’t easy to stay quiet when all you wanted to do was moan Nanami’s name, but, even so, you're eager to push your neighbor’s buttons a little more. So you lie, saying that it “wasn’t even that hard to sit still.” 

He pauses, which strikes both fear and excitement into your thundering heart, as he assesses your statement, disapproval etched into his sharp features. 

“I didn’t want it to be too much for you the first time,” he says, “But if you want to continue to act like a brat, I’ll just have to deal with you like one.” 

Then, with ruthless candor, he locks your legs in place by circling his big arms underneath them and clasping his hands together just above your lower stomach. His strong forearms are pressing down on your hips, rendering you pinned to the mattress beneath you.

“Kento, uh-wait–ah”

His mouth is on your heated core again, nuzzling the flesh before taking his clit into your mouth and sucking, hard. You buck your hips up, instinctively trying to escape the intense sensation, but his iron grip makes your effort all for naught.

Then his tongue rolls over your clit in his mouth, whiting out your vision. Your lips gasp his name, and then repeat it in a far more strained and strangled manner. He’s being so rough, tugging at you like a loose string in a sweater and unraveling you faster than you can take.

“I thought it wasn’t hard to keep quiet?” Nanami mocks, “I think I’ve heard my name two times just now.” It’s less than a second after he speaks for his mouth to resume the merciless stimulation to your clit. 

“No, not–ah–not hard at all,” you say, pretending like you don’t have to rack your brain to be able to respond to him. 

“Is that so? Tell me more.”

He’s asking too much and he knows it; you can’t focus with him touching you like this, each lap of his tongue washing away the start of every coherent thought. You moan as a response, hoping he will let you get away with it. 

He doesn’t. “Darling,” he states. He wants the truth.

It all comes out like a waterfall, with your resolve eroded away by the waves of pleasure hitting your body. “Okay–okay–it–was–hard–to–be–quiet–and–I–I–just–need–you–to–keep–going–please–Kento–I–need–it.”

He presses a soft kiss to your clit as a reward. “That’s a good girl.” Then, he continues to tend to the growing want splitting apart your body with calculated licks and sucks along your ridges.

Much to Nanami’s satisfaction, you allow the whimpers and whines your body wants to make flow out of you, finally finished with being so difficult. He likes how needy and pliant you've become, especially since he’s been waiting to have you like this for a while. Dirty thoughts have been plaguing his mind since the block party when you were wearing a sundress that hugged every delectable curve and dip of your body. He remembers the exact color and pattern of the dress, because he's the type to be observant, which also means he's the type to know when he's getting you close.

“Fuck, Kento,” you gasp.

The way you're squeezing your legs together and quickening your breath tells him to keep his movements consistent, and in doing so, his tongue takes you to your climax in an embarrassingly quick amount of time. A final lap of his tongue unleashes a white-hot river of pleasure that twists around your core, making you gasp Nanami’s name as if he could do anything about it. Your body locks up: hands squeezing his forearms with your fingernails digging into his skin and your head falling back onto the mattress as you endure the sensation. 

He crawls up next to you on the bed, talking you through it as you writhe. “That’s it, pretty girl,” he croons, watching your eyes flutter and listening to the sweet sounds of your pleasure-drunk babbling. “You’re doing so good.”

When your endless moans settle back down to panting, he cradles your cheek, asking you, “Are you alright, sweet thing? Was it too much?” His other hand is stroking your thigh in soothing patterns, delivering gentle pushes of pleasure as the disorienting buzz vibrating through your body fades away. 

Catching your breath, you lean into his rough palm, “M’okay.” He smiles softly as he swipes his thumb along your cheekbone in gentle caresses, a stark contrast to the hard erection pressed to your thigh. It’s funny, how he’s pretending it isn’t even there, but you feel it, warm and throbbing against your leg.

He’s gotten his way, so it’s only fair that you get a turn, too.

Your eyes flick up to his face and your fingers play with the collar of his shirt when you say, “Now I wanna take care of you.” Your hand, still a little shaky from the impact of your orgasm, travels down his warm chest to the bulge in his pants. When you begin to stroke him over the fabric, he hisses and you smile up at him. “Seems like you need some attention, Kento.” 

God, you’re such a tease, even after making you cum so hard you couldn’t see. If anything, it spurred you on. 

He tries to say something, but you squeeze his erection and he’s unable to get his thoughts straight. Taking advantage of his weakness, you push his shoulder back, laying him down on the space on the mattress beside you. Then, you settle on top of him, sitting on his big legs with your hands near the notable outline pressing through his pants. 

“It’s been such a long night,” you coo, unbuttoning his shirt so you can run your palms up and down the planes of his abs, careful to not get too close to his waistband. He watches your fingers as they skim his hot skin, a gentle and unconscious thrust of his hips pressing the clothed aching into nothing. 

“Let me help you,” you offer, eyes lidded. He can’t take much more of this anymore, not after being teased all night and then seeing the face you made when you came on his tongue. 

“Alright,” he concedes, breath uneven as your fingers approach his waistband, a pleased smile spread across your face.

You unzip his pants and pull down his briefs, freeing his throbbing erection and quickly taking it in your hands, running your fingers up and down his length in a loose fist. It twitches underneath your palm. 

“Poor Kento,” you say as you stroke him, “So pent-up and needing to be taken care of.” 

“You did this to me,” he responds through his teeth.

“Then I’ll make it up to you.” You lean forward, your lack of underwear allowing you to align your dripping hole and his cock with ease. And when you sink down on him, taking him deep inside of your warmth and bearing the delightfully painful stretch the movement comes with, Nanami sees heaven itself.

His hands clamp down on your hips as you begin to ride him, stabilizing yourself with his shoulders. The tight hug of your walls squeezes around him as you bounce up and down and make such sweet noises that compound the pleasure tearing through him. 

“Fuck, darling,” Nanami says, eyebrows pressed together, “You feel so good.” 

You smirk, leaning further forward, and capturing him in a messy kiss. The new angle has your clit brushing against the base of his dick as you grind, reinvigorating flames that lick the insides of your stomach. You’re moaning again, now into Nanami’s open mouth as he bucks his hips into you, chasing the release your warm walls are teasing him with. He’s been so disciplined this whole time, waiting to make sure he’s taken care of you before he got to fuck you, and now that he has, he isn’t holding back. 

His thrusts are messy, quite unlike the thoughtful flicks of his tongue when he pleasured you. He can’t think straight when you feel this good. 

“Seems that you like this,” you laugh, voice breathy and coated with arousal. 

“Of course I do, dear,” he says, fingers squeezing at the flesh of your hips, “You’re—fuck—worth the wait.” 

Your grin is victorious as you watch how he falls apart beneath you, chest heaving and a light pink glow spread across his nose and cheekbones. Nanami, who’s been watching your face—it’s his favorite place to look when being intimate—notices your delight. 

“Is this what you wanted?” he asks, but it’s not accusatory, rather, amused.

If ‘this’ is referencing you having your hot next-door neighbor beneath you eagerly meeting your grinding hips and filling you up with his cock like it’s his life purpose, then yes, this is exactly what you wanted. 

“It–ah”—his thrusts have gotten harder—“it is.” 

“Is that so?” he asks, and then his hands wrap around your wrists, taking them from his shoulders and holding them by your sides, pulling you down so he can thrust harder and deeper into your cunt. “Let’s see if you can take it then.”

The wetness and cum from your orgasm have slicked your insides copiously, so it’s the pressure of having him so deep, kissing your cervix, that you’re having trouble adjusting to. Your mouth is gaping in silent gasps, the words fucked out of you, and your eyes are rolled back as he pistons himself in and out, his pace unforgiving. And there’s nothing you can do about it, with your arms pinned to your sides, you’re at his complete mercy as he slams his hips into your wet cunt.

“So f-fast, Kento,” you manage to say, “fuck.”

“I said I would treat you like the brat you are,” he responds.

Maybe this will teach you to not push him so far. 

Or maybe it won’t, because having him so rough with you, pushing you to your limit, fucking you like he’s punishing you, it’s what’s stirring up a second orgasm deep in your stomach. 

“K-Kento, feels s’good, my god–”

“That’s what I thought, dear,” he groans, “Figured you liked it rough. Can feel you clenching around me.” 

He doesn’t sound like the gentleman you thought he was when he talks like this, but you love it.

You throw your head back, forcefully nearing your breaking point as he pulls you into him. His grip crushing your wrists, but the sensation is unfelt when you finally cum all over him.

An unbridled whine rips through your throat as your fingers curl into fists, your body shaking but unable to move due to Nanami’s hold. So all you’re able to do is stay upright as Nanami pulls you down into his dick once more, the contraction and spasms of your walls throwing him over the edge, and empties his load deep in you. His face is contorted in pleasure and he groans as your canal grants him the release you’ve teased him with all night.

The moment his grip on your wrist relaxes, you double over, falling down into the safety of his warm, broad chest. His dick is still inside you, but the sensation is not unwelcome; it feels nice to be connected to him as you cuddle. 

You trace the lines of definition on his chest, his slowing heartbeat calming you. Nanami’s hand snakes underneath the oversized shirt to rub slow circles on your back. “How are you doing?” he asks, soft and sincere. 

You nuzzle your head into his chest. “I’m good, a little tired though.”

“You’re welcome to spend the night.” 

A warm, fuzzy feeling buzzes around your heart.

“But first, please, allow me to run you a bath. I can’t have you sleeping uncared for.” 

You suppose you’ll have to get used to this kind of treatment. 

“Okay,” you smile.

[loveshotzz]

Constellations

steve harrington x fem!reader

summary: under the stars, you just want steve to kiss you.

word count: 1.4k

warnings: 18+ even though there’s no smut. sorry kiddos. just some first kiss fluff inspired by season 3 steve who’s kinda lost his confidence.

authors note: another blurb outta the pile! I’m a sucker for late nights at Lovers Lake with Steve 💗. for @superblysubpar cause I know when I came up with this blurb months ago she was so excited. sorry it took me so long!

The sky was clear above the lake, the stars glimmering extra bright against the water illuminating patches of the trees surrounding you. The reflection hits the green and brown specks that lay nestled inside Steve’s eyes in a battle to steal your attention. You try not to meet his gaze as you search for the constellation he promised to show you when he threw rocks on your bedroom window, careful not to wake your roommate.

He was dressed more casual than your first date a few days ago. A date that didn’t end with the kiss you desperately hoped you’d get at the end of an evening filled with warm palms that covered your lower back whenever he’d get the chance, or stolen glances to the pink gloss that covered your lips just for him. Instead, an awkward hug and red cheeks is what you got as he tripped over his own feet from your doorstep to his car.

The gray shorts he wears stop just above his knees, the hair covering his legs matching the patch that’s always peeking out from the tops of his shirts. His sweater was the same color as the car that took you here, tight around his broad shoulders, and snug in all the spots you wanted to explore with your fingers. His honey colored hair was messier than you’d seen before, like he’d just woken up and had to see you, disguising it as late night stargazing by the lake. The thought of how soft it must feel makes your hands twitch at your sides.

Your shoulders are tucked into his jacket that he always keeps in the back seat of his BMW. It was the end of summer — August bleeding into September. The late nights starting to get that little bit chillier, the days a little bit shorter. The faded spice of his cologne swirls around your senses still embedded deep into the fabric from last year. The blanket he’d laid out on the lush grass that still hadn’t disappeared is soft under your hands that keep you propped up at an angle, your legs extend in front of you, crossed at your ankles and the toes of your sneakers bump into his.

The space he leaves between you is just enough to feel the heat of his body radiate off his bronzed skin, freckled and kissed by the sun, his big hands spread out palm down like a mirror with yours. The tips of his fingers are quiet, ghosting against the side of your hand. Leaning his head back to follow your line of sight, the smell of his shampoo reminds you of the woods around you when the wind catches it. He’s so close, but you want him closer.

It only takes a few minutes before you feel his eyes are on you again and you can’t stop the twist of your lips this time.

“Where are these constellations? Or you just wanna look at me?” Your voice is soft, the faint teasing edge behind it isn’t enough to cover up how he’s making you shy when your eyes finally connect with his.

He clears his throat, cheeks blooming and Adam’s apple bobbing under your grin.

“Shit - yeah, sorry. Just like seeing you in my jacket s’all.” Your stomach flutters at his words, butterflies wreaking havoc when he finally crosses the threshold, a big hand enveloping yours. He brings his attention back to the sky, fingers curling purposefully.

You lean in closer under the guise of getting a better look as he starts to trace along the path of a collection of twinkling stars.

“We’ve got Orion’s Belt right over here.” His shoulder brushes against yours, his thumb rubbing soft circles over your knuckles.

Water laps against the shoreline and the distant coo of an owl drowns out the fading chirp of crickets while he gives you a tour of the night sky. His voice calms your nerves, talking low enough just for you to hear while your bodies inch closer like magnets until there’s no space left, fingers daring to intertwine.

“And this…” he breathes and you know he’s not looking at the stars anymore, spearmint and a little bit of the joint you both shared hitting your nose “Is the big dipper.”

Your eyes dare to leave the wide expanse above you only to confirm your suspicions. The corners of his mouth turn up into a smirk when he gets caught for the second time tonight, but this time he doesn’t move to look away. You can see the stubble lining the sharp line of his jaw from this close, a collection of moles you think you could trace into the same patterns he just showed you coming into view. His tongue pokes out to wet his lips when his eyes shift down to yours and it makes your breath catch in your throat. He’s gonna do it.

“Are you gonna kiss me Steve?” Your impatience comes out in just above a whisper.

There’s a new air of confidence about him now, shifting so he can lean against his elbow, the new position has him looking up at you. The moon shimmers, wrapping around you punching the air out of his lungs. You’re beautiful. He’s gentle when he cups the side of your face, your skin heating up under the softness of his palm. His thumb traces the line of your cheekbone before moving to the silk of your bottom lip, tugging it down gently, watching it pop back into place.

“Is that what you want, baby?” His eyes darken when he sees the pinch of your brows. A pout.

The nickname makes your heart soar and your chest tighten, only letting you offer a nod and the sweetest “please.” It fills the empty spaces in the air around you, an electricity begging to explode around it.

His hold finds its way to the back of your neck, long fingers curving just below your hairline before pulling you down without a fight to meet him. Nudging his nose against yours, you can feel the brush of his lips from this close.

“I should’ve done this the other night.” His breath mingles with yours, teasing you in a way that you like. “You forgive me?”

You match his smile despite trying to fight it and he takes that as his answer, finally putting you out of your misery with the kiss you’ve been waiting for.

He takes it slow at first, his eyes fluttering shut while his hand finds your jaw. He asks you to open up for him gripping your chin while his tongue licks at your top lip. Granting him the kind of access you’d never deny him, a groan vibrates deep from his chest when you meet him in the middle to deepen it.

Your fingers find their way into his hair when he lays back on the blanket taking you with him, and it’s even softer than you imagined. Of course it is. You grab at roots on the nape of his neck when he nips at your bottom lip already addicted to the sound he gets from it.

The kisses get sloppy, all the tension coming to a head when he tugs at your hips. Your leg slots between his so the muscle of his thigh presses to the most sensitive part of you, and it takes everything not to rock against him. His hand moves to squeeze at the curve of your waist, teeth scraping together when you both start to get needy. More, more, more.

A high pitch whistle from the other side of the lake breaks you two apart with a jump, the culprits hidden by distance and darkness. A loud splash of water tells you they are none the wiser to the company they keep. A late night rendezvous like you and Steve.

He huffs out a low chuckle beneath you, with that signature hand running through his hair when his head hits the ground with a low thump. Keeping a hold on your hip to make sure you don’t go anywhere, his eyes are brighter than before when he looks at you with flushed cheeks and that smile that started your crush all those years ago.

“Took you long enough.”

[beiasluv]

neteyam x human!reader

°:. *₊ ° . ° .•

a/n: the domestic bliss got me so, here it is / let’s say you guys are the same age /spoilers??

masterlist

enjoy!

being a human on pandora isn’t easy as you might think. breathing air? not possible without a mask. traveling around? quite difficult with human’s capability.

but those didn’t stop you from loving this planet any less.

you are one of those babies who didn’t got a chance to travel back to earth 10 years ago, and you are not complaining.

pandora is much quieter and more peaceful (well, not yet, and we are here for fluff)

spider is one of your friends, well your only friend, until you meet netayam and the sullys. spider taught you the na’vi language, until you are fluent to a certain level. you can catch many phrases, but, unfortunately, can not reply.

you first met neteyam when you were both still young. he was practicing hunting for fish and you were exploring around the forest

“ok, near the rock, just as dad told…,” a young blue na’vi mumbled to himself and stretched back his arm, holding his weapon. splash! a loud sound echoed from the water as the fish was caught dead by the sharp tip. “yes! dad! I did it! I caught a fish!”

“…dad?” he looked into the bush as he saw your (e/c) reflected by the sunlight.

he crawled closer to the bush as he saw you running away deep into the forest. without any delay, he followed your footsteps and scents. along the way, admiring your beautiful choice of path into the damp grassy area. there, he found you napping peacefully by a tree and woodsprites surrounded you. your hair contrasted the green grass perfectly, yet your exomask covers your face from his.

“…hey,” the boy nudged you slightly causing you to stirred awake.

“wh..who are you?” you gathered yourself quickly, hiding your face from him. “oh wait, do you even know what I am saying? um…sorry, Ohe can’t tukru na’vi (I can’t speak na’vi)”

“you are funny, because you are speaking it right now, i am neteyam, who are you?” he giggled “I haven’t seen you around before, let alone a human,” he turned your face towards him. he tapped playfully on your mask, examining it as he looked into it.

“i am um…(y/n), and I haven’t left the lab that much,” neteyam stared into your eyes. “you must be spider’s friend, he told me about his friends.”

“are you related to spider?! must be nice keeping you to himself,” he fake pouted. “i want to have more human friends, my brother have five fingers like you!”

“well, you can meet me again by the lab. I didn’t left it that much, because i don’t have friends, except spider, of course, but he likes to leave me alone in the forest,” you rolled your eyes and received a giggled from neteyam.

“i can be your friend! and i promise I’ll never leave you in the forest!” he grinned showing his whitey teeth.

it was easy to say that your life had never been the same ever since

your duty patrolling grace’s tank at the lab isn’t so boring as before, and you get to meet and know grace’s legacy, kiri

neteyam would visit the lab with kiri more often, making up excuses like he wants to make sure she is okay while visiting grace.

another reason he likes to see you in the lab, because he can touch your face without the difficulties of a mask. he likes to hold your hand and especially your pinkie.

you, neteyam, and kiri became greats friends. while sometimes you would visit them in the forest; you noticed neytiri wasn’t giving spider the warmest welcome, so you learned to keep a space from her

neteyam, the being the older brother he is, is always protective of you and his siblings. you two are often teased as the parents of the group.

neteyam will carry you wherever and whenever you want. even times when you insist you can walk on your own, but he will carry you through the jungle.

tuk is very attached to you, even though she is 2x bigger than you but she’s your baby sister.

kiri is your bestieee, and she definitely knows all the tea. you will always comfort her when she gets picked on for her hands.

“these pinkies are here for special reason, it is for pinkie promises. a special promise for special someone, and you are special to me, kiri,” she smiled back.

the middle brother, lo’ak, is quite reserved at first but you’ve managed to melt his wall away. your warmth that his brother couldn’t resist made him comforted every time he is around you.

he sees you as an older sister and you’ve managed to made him listen more than his own brother. you know how to cheer him up and comfort him wherever he felt that he is his brother’s shadow. you became soft mother figure to him.

jake, being somewhat of a human, took you under his wings. he sees you and neteyam often teasing each other, and that reminded him of himself. (neteyam: one down, one more to go)

he is always glad that there is someone helping him and his wife around the house. you were there to support his children emotionally and physically, sometimes.

well, years had passed and the ‘lovebirds’ had grown stronger ever than before.

everything was going smoothly, until two reasons.

one, the sky people are back again.

two, you have grown weaker than before.

your human body was great but you hoped that you could have an avatar of your own, and coincidentally, the lab had been creating one for you. (definitely neteyam did not asked for one and definitely he did not begged his grandma to help with consciousness transfer)

“we have to take your DNA, okay? my (y/n)…” neteyam ran his hand through your head and hair calming you down. “i don’t know ways to help you other than this, i don’t want to lose you, alright? you are my best friend.”

‘you are the love of my life!’ you thought. “yes, i know, neteyam, take my DNA even if it means i am dying soon.”

“no! you are not dying, the sky people are here, well, yes, they might be your species, but you are special to me, okay?” he sighed. “I will not lose my best friend, not to a problem we have a solution to.”

“i don’t know what are we fighting for! you know that i am about to die, why then worth trying something that can be passed on for spider or other human with more opportunities and possibilities than me!”

“please, dont make this harder, okay?”

“neteyam! neteyam! nete-“ and that was the last thing you saw, netayam holding you down and a scientist with an anesthesia.

…

“grandma, how is she taking it?” neteyam strolled hurriedly around your body.

“wait out, you hot-headed boy, she’s going through…”

“what- what is going on?”

“(y/n)! (y/n)!” the blue faced boy went ahead and hugged your body close.

“neteyam, glad to see you-“ “woah- you aren’t so big anymore, my- my feet! they’re huge! woah- i have a tail? look! woah- what- my ear is like a cat’s”

“woah- woah woah, take it easy, my (y/n), that’s what i went through for 15 years, you just had it for one minute and you’re going crazy!” he giggled. “see? it wasn’t so bad after all and what’s a cat?”

“silly of you, neteyam- but why the tree of souls?”

“got cha consciousness transferred, wouldn’t have it done the scientifac- scientific ways,” he tapped your forehead slightly. “i begged for grandma myself, glad she’s helping out, or we’re doomed.”

“thank you, neteyam.”

life didn’t get easier after that, but you were now together, at last.

the sullys welcomed you quickly and warmly. neytiri had some hard times but jake reminded her once again of their past.

-spoilers-

uncertain times calls for uncertain choices, the sullys decided to move to the metkayina for shelter.

neteyam and his siblings, along with you, flew across the ocean toward your temporary home.

the flight there was risky as you guys had to travel across the storms and oceans. neteyam held you tightly within his embrace the whole flight.

the first few weeks, he often cries whenever he is alone with you, saying you are his safe house.

“i- i want to go home, (y/n), i can’t do this anymore,” he sniffles on your lap.

“i am so sorry, nete, we are here now, i miss our home too, but this is for the best for the people,” you cradled him close.

“you- you shouldn’t say sorry, my (y/n), it’s not your fault,” he grabbed your hair tight as he cried.

“ow, nete, c’mon let’s go swim and calm down,” you swayed him like a baby and sang him songs.

at the ocean villages, the leader welcomed the sullys with not the warmest welcome but satisfying enough for the time. they must live and depend on it for now, that’s the least they could do.

kiri and you got called out for having five fingers which neteyam did not take it very well. he had been hostile towards anyone who made fun of your hands.

tsireya, ao’nung, and the rest welcomed them as well, although the boys could’ve been much friendlier in your thought.

tsireya and you kicked along pretty well, she’s beautiful, kind, caring, and hot. 😳 (sorry, not sorry)

of course, you gotta tease her with lo’ak, and how she told him ‘i see you’ before you and neteyam was a disgrace. you love her like a sister and adores her so bad.

likewise, she never misses a chance to tease you with neteyam.

“please, y/n, when? when are you going to do it!”

“not now, not never, does he even like me?” you pouted. “he calls me his best friend, i am obviously in the friend zone.”

“c’mon, please, that boy is head over heals for you,” she rolled her blue eyes. “when i taught you guys to swim, he is drooling over you underwater, almost choking himself unalive i supposed,” she giggled.

“maybe he is just amazed by the ocean, it is really pretty,” you sighed.

“girl- you are not taking hints.”

and boys are boys, they were fighting on the beach over kiri. kiri stood there laughing and her brothers getting themselves into the mess. while you walked out of the water sprinting towards neteyam and lo’ak, grabbing their ears and dragging them out.

“i apologize for my friends,” you laughed politely at ao’nung’s face.

“e- erm, i am sorry, too,” he was stunned by your face, dampened by the water, and your hair sticking to your body. ‘grrr’ neteyam scowling in the background behind your back to ao’nung.

“now if you please excuse us, i am so sorry, let me know if you want me to treat your wound as an apology,” you smiled and turned back to widened your eyes at neteyam and lo’ak.

“so- sorry” “sorry🖕”

“lo’ak!”

wound-tending sessions wasn’t as fun as watching them fight.

kiri took lo’ak and you took neteyam.

earning ‘ow’s and ‘ouch’s form neteyam you scolded him while patching him up.

“squeeze my leg if it hurts.”

he did tried not to but he ended up left some red marks on your legs.

during harsh and cold times, you still find your comfort in neteyam. you guys cuddle every night together before bed, and singing lullabies together, reminding each other of home.

neteyam likes to be the big spoon but you can be the big spoon, too, ever since your human form to your avatar form.

now for domestic stuffs in metkayinaa

you guys love to swim together in the ocean, and sometimes hiding the reefs (shh, they make a great place for a kiss on the cheek)

neteyam loves your hand, he will hold them wherever you go.

he loves finding pretty shells for you and clipping them onto your hair.

ao’nung having a crush on you, and tsireya told him off. because, obviously, she is your biggest shipper.

neytiri and jake knew there is no use separating you and neteyam, so one calls for a family meeting.

she noticed how her children received an emotional support whenever they need it from you. neytiri slowly accepted you into her family and realized that you had become more than a friend to their family, but a part of them. now, she sends a heartwarming smile for you. (neteyam, two down, it’s only you babe)

“thank you, (y/n), for taking care of my family,” she hugged you. “you are a part of us, never let them separate us apart.”

“I trust you, (y/n), i see a great potential in you, take care of my sons and daughters in this time of war,” jake touched his forehead against yours.

fond moments must come to an end; the thing they dreaded the most had arrived, the sky people

you guys fought until your very last breath, and every moments felt like it is your last

“go! y/n! go!” lo’ak and spider jumped into the middle pool of the boat, while neteyam took the gun.

“okay! love! on my count okay?” you shouted back.

“no! on my count- OKAY HE’S DOWN! 1…2-“ he was taken back by your push, and as of everything goes in slow motion. your body push his against the rails and made him fall into the pool.

the bullet made its way towards your chest, and everything flashes back. your mom, your dad, your lonely childhood, meeting him for the first time, meeting the sullys, growing up together, transferring your consciousness, traveling here, and fighting along side him.

you felt an impact within your body, and his eyes widened as you both fall into the water. he cradled your body in his as you both meet the impact of the water. slowly, your bodies submerged into the water and he pulled you out…and everything seems to black out.

…

“no no no no NO!” you heard neteyam screams.

“rip that cloth, RIGHT NOW!” jake shouted. “she is losing her consciousness!” you felt a burning sensation and a tightening sensation on your shoulder.

“is she alright DAD! SHE IS SHAKING! DO SOMETHING!” neteyam cries and clings onto your body.

“y/n…” tsireya hold your hand and her wet tears dropped on your arms.

“No! My child, my guardian protector!” Neytiri screamed in agony, as she lose her voice in the attempt.

“neteyam! take her to the village if you still want to have the love of your life,” he pushed her into his embrace. without a second thought, he calls his ilu and drove head straight to the village.

the boy waited impatiently in front of the village’s nurse. he traced back and forth and his breath hitched whenever the nurse made any noise. he prayed to the great mother that she will be fine. his meals were untouched and he didn’t bothered fighting along his brother’s side for once.

he loathed the demon ever than before, he prayed his mother would’ve finish him off the second time.

it has been three days and the family is back together. they’ve been healing together spiritually and physically, except one boy who refuses to join them, neteyam. he had been sitting in front of the nurse room for four days full, until he heard a sound.

“neteyam?”

“yes? is she alright?”

“go ahead and see her for yourself,” the nurse opened the curtain.

“(y/n)? are you awake?”

“ne- neteyam? are you hurt?”

“(y/n)! thank the great mother!” he hugged your body so tightly that you might rip apart. “i thought i had lost you!” he cling onto her lap. “promise me you’ll never take a bullet for me again! pinkie promise me!”

“i can’t make promises i can not keep, love…,” you smiled and knitted your ringer finger with his. “do you know what finger is this?”

“um…longer pinkie?”

“no,” you chuckled. “this is a ring finger, a ring is put in the right side for engagement and left for marriages.”

“then i will never have to lose you with our ring fingers attached,” he rest his forehead on yours.

“how could you lose me, when i see you,” you smiled and kissed his forehead.

“i see you too.”

today’s a great day to take care of yourself, 🤍

[formosusiniquis]

Earlier this/last week @thefreakandthehair did some possible s5 scene speculation based on some leaked pics that circulated. The scene and it's kas!eddie/pre-steddie implications stuck with me and now I present you all with this

---

Maybe he should feel worse about it, but the first thing Steve thinks when he hears the voices cresting up the hill, angry in a way that sounds drunk, is he's glad.

It's not that he wants the kid's mourning time interrupted, Steve is just glad for something to do. Something that isn't standing off to the side doing his own mental math. How long do you have to know someone to feel this anguish looking at their headstone? How long to make it okay that you've added their grave to your city patrol, checking a couple times a week for new graffiti and especially two hours before picking up Dustin to bring him here. At least his time on the ladder outside The Hawk was well spent, paint remover and rags in his trunk beside a bat that only leaves to join him in places like this.

They put Eddie's grave near the back but it's still surrounded. The Hawkins Cemetery taking on dozens of new residents, tall dirt mounds marking their new homes. He tries not to think too much about the details. Was this the plot Mr. Munson had bought for himself? Did the government provide it? The least they could do for the hero they're generously allowing to take the role of villain, a free plot for an empty grave.

He's five back and four to the right of another empty grave, Steve needs to remember flowers next time he comes. Anniversaries have always stuck in his mind. Four years maybe geraniums.

Ball caps crest over the hill before faces, and he already knows this won't be good. Tiger green has become his least favorite color. He pats Dustin on the shoulder, letting the kid know he's stepping back and away. Let it look like privacy, not that he’s done more than stare. Edward Munson Now with God.

Meandering over to where the problem is headed his way, Steve wonders if that was deliberate. A preventative measure, to keep people away. Or is Mr. Munson a devout believer, hoping this inscribed plea will help the universe do right by his boy?

He tries not to think too hard about it.

There are other things to worry about. Five important things in ballcaps and letterman jackets, stalking up faster like the closer they get the better they can smell the blood in the water. He hadn’t moved fast enough. They’re too close. To him, to Dustin. Andrews and Miller and Jackson and Thompson and one other, three seniors, a junior, and a reedy kid that must be a sophomore like Dustin. Faces he recognizes in the vague sense of athletic camaraderie. Guys he’s played pickup with on nice days.

“What’re you doing here, Harrington?” It doesn’t matter who actually says it, it’s the voice of the mob. There’s a blankness in all of their eyes, maybe he was wrong about them not being drunk. Mob justice, the spirit of the night.

“Feels like I should be asking you fellas that.”

“Kid up there’s been running his mouth, he’s gotta learn what happens to freaks around here.”

They’re way too close. Steve can tell Dustin heard that the same way he can tell when the kid is ignoring him on purpose. There’s a second that he thinks about playing along, five on one, if he could play the jock card and get away with it things could be easier. But Dustin is pointedly not listening now, picking at the grass that’s barely started growing over the dirt they covered Eddie’s grave in.

“That’s not gonna happen, not while I’m standing here.”

Five against one.

He’s still not very good in a fight with people. Maybe it’s the fucking yips.

The bat has worked as a deterrent. When people with anger and bile in their eyes looked at him cleaning up red painted words across grey granite. Nails pointedly facing the sky, keeping their sneers at a distance.

Held at his side, they all know he doesn’t want to hit anyone with it. He swings low, he pulls them shy.

It isn’t long before it’s wrestled away. Tossed to the side and he’s left with only fists to swing.

When the first hand closes around his collar, the seams on his sleeve popping, the adrenaline presents him a pointless gift. The collar on Dustin’s shirt didn’t get torn by the agitator in their washing machine. Of all the things to lie about, of course he lied about this.

The telltale throb of his pulse in his face and his fists point to the fight going rapidly down hill. He’s put one down. Four against one.

“Hey assholes!” And of course Dustin can’t help but get involved.

“Get out of here,” Steve tries to urge him away. Can’t make the gesture with his hands, every time he moves another person grabs his shoulder or his arm. Pulling him deeper into the fight. Like he’s that horse in the swamp in that movie. 

But Dustin doesn’t listen. Of course he doesn’t listen. Dustin is swinging the bat wildly like it’s a club and he’s BamBam, he’s going to hurt himself before he hurts someone else.

Andrews or Miller or Jackson, they're all the same in this mob, pull away from him. Moving toward Dustin.

“Get away from him! Get away from him,” Steve struggles, shouting even as his voice cracks. He can't get away, can't move. Two people have his arms held. The sleeve of his shirt rips. The third hits him again.

Pain and adrenaline, there's a ringing in his ears that drowns out whatever Dustin is saying. Mouth moving in a babble that Steve can't make heads or tails of with his blurred out vision.

But he sees the swing. Dustin unused to the weight of the bat, the hit lands too close to the handle.

He only gets the one. Then it’s ripped from his hands and tossed back toward Eddies grave.

Then he sees the swing. A fist that lands exactly where it's meant to. Dustin staggers back but stays standing. Staggers closer to the grave.

Where rivulets of red are spreading across the ground the same way they're pouring from his face.

Steve struggles harder, pain tolerance fucked he can barely even feel the hits that have been landing. He has to get to Dustin.

Long black claws, a hand with greyed flesh. It digs itself into the ground ready to pull itself up.

“Dustin, Dustin, you have to run. Go!”

“I'm not fucking leaving.”

Another hit. It takes Dustin down this time. One eye blinks as the other already begins to swell. Steve can taste blood in his mouth.

A dark streak launches itself into the air. Moving too fast to make out anything but big, it vanishes into the dusky fall sky. Steve tries to track it. Tries to keep his eye on it and Dustin and the guys.

Another swing, on Steve this time. Attention drawn too many places he doesn't see it coming. Hard across the temple, one of these assholes is still wearing his class ring. 

Vision greying out, when Steve can see again there's one more missing. The hold on his arms is slack. Steve pulls loose, running straight for Dustin, trying to pull him up from the ground.

“We've got to go. C'mon, Dust, we've got to get back to the car. Make the call.”

He's tugging but Dustin isn't moving. The sound of a scream takes the air. Steve doesn't know if he can pick him up. Isn't sure he ever healed right after the bats.

Another scream. Another. Dustin is moving now. Barely. Feet stumbling over themselves. Two hard hits to the head, could be a concussion.

It's following them. Moving faster through the air than they have any hope of on their feet. Prey. They're running, they have to try.

Swooping low, the thing passes overhead. That throaty clicking that haunts his nightmares fills the air. It lands on two legs. Tall and human. Long, leathery wings extend from its back. Steve's bat clutched in its hands. It walks closer. Stalking.

Steve tries to shove Dustin farther behind him. Tries. Tries. But the thing walking toward them, it's Eddie.

He struggles against Steve's hold. “Let go. Let me go! It's Eddie, he's alive.”

“Dustin. Don't. Dustin,” he isn't sure what he's trying to stop. He isn't sure he can anymore.

Back wheels skidding on a wet road. There's a helplessness every time he realizes that things are starting again. When he knows for sure that the wreck is going to happen, fishtailing out of his control.

It's November and it's back.

It's back and it's wearing Eddie's face.

At least when he comes to the end of his borrowed time, the thing that will kill him will be beautiful. Even with the milky film covering those big brown eyes. Even though he looks pale as a corpse. 

Predator. Eddie moves with a fluid grace. Closer. Closer.

Anything is better than the demogorgon. He supposes. But he probably shouldn't be thinking that either. 

Will Dustin run when he goes down?

Steve thinks they're about to find out. Eddie starts to fold, a sprinter getting into position, a cat about to pounce.

Only he keeps going, collapsing until he's down on one knee. Far enough away that if they had to, Steve thinks they could get away before he's chasing them again. Close enough that he can make out the humor that's spread across a smile with too many new teeth. A seriousness in his eyes. He holds the bat flat across both hands, offering it out to Steve. Urging him to step forward and take it. Proposing.

“Your scepter, my king, you're going to need it. Vecna is coming but I have a plan.”

[randomwriteronline]

“Now,” Arezu began whistfully, “Not to pit two exquisite Ladies against each other, but - if they had to fight, who do you think would win between Lady Lilligant and Lady Sneasler?”

“Sneasler,” Ingo replied instantly.

There was a hot second of stunned silence.

“No hesitation, huh,” Mai noted.

“I am basing myself purely on typing,” the man began explaining as he briefly stopped carving the second wooden spoon he would give as a traditional wedding gift to Palina and Iscan: “If both had been pure Fighting it would have been a perfectly fair fight, but Lilligant has the disadvantage of being part Grass, which Poison happens to be supereffective against.”

“That’s why your Tangela hates me,” Melli commented.

“She does not,” Ingo replied.

“Why does she suffocate me then?”

“I have told you already, her hugs are not an attempt at your life, she is simply made out of a mass of vines which can sometimes result in hazardous situations despite her best intentions.”

“Is there someone Lady Lilligant could take on?” Arezu distracted them.

Ingo turned to her without missing a beat: “Avalugg, Basculegion, and possibly Kleavor, though it would be a very tight match.”

“No she could not take on Lord Avalugg!” Gaeric blurted out.

“He is doubly weak to Fighting and his Rock type would not do him many favors against Grass,” the other man replied, shattering his hopes in one fell swoop.

“But he’s-!” the warden fumbled on his words for a moment, waving his arms vehemently to find a comprehensible enough way to explain himself before having to resort to just: “Big!”

“Fair argument!” Ingo admitted. “But typing wise, he’d be done for. It’s a very unfortunate pair, mostly on account of neither type covering the other’s weaknesses. He would similarly lose against Sneasler, Arcanine, Basculegion, Electrode, Kleavor, and... No, that should be it, I believe. Ursaluna would would put up a valuable effort, but wouldn't survive the Ice. My condolences, Miss Calaba.”

The woman didn’t even move from where she napped, just gave him an ok.

Melli laughed at the disheartened Gaeric.

Mai smacked him to get him to stop.

“He’d be good against Braviary,” Sabi predicted.

That got her a gentle pat on her head, away from the braids she was getting done: “Indeed,” Ingo nodded, “Flying is weak to both Ice and Rock. He’d also fare pretty badly against Kleavor - Bugs are awful for Psychic types.”

“But he’d be good against Sneasler?”

“Oh, he’d decimate her. Both of his types are supereffective against her. Wyrdeer too, she’d have no chance against him. For more information on how weak Poison is to Psychic please refer to Melli and his many defeats at the spoons of Alakazam.” and he ducked to evade a halfhearted slap. “Also Ursaluna! Ground is another powerful weakness of the vitriolic type. Congratulations, Miss Calaba.”

She gave him a thumbs up and continued not caring.

Palina hummed, struggling for a moment with Sabi’s green hair as she tried to untangle a knot: “How’d my young Lord do?” she asked with genuine curiousity: “He hasn’t been mentioned much, has he?”

“Fire type seldom has trouble in matchups, so he’d be fairly fortunate in a fight against most of his fellow Nobles...” the expert mumbled: “Lilligant, Kleavor, Avalugg as I’ve mentioned, Electrode - Ursaluna would asphalt him, though. Together with Basculegion they are his worst enemies. In a fight, of course, I’m well aware they’re on excellent terms.”

Iscan waved a little to reassure him: “The Lord isn’t a big fighter anyways, he probably wouldn’t do too well.”

“Oh, he’d be quite good actually! Plenty of the Nobles would be in trouble against his Water and Ghost combination, he’s rather fiersome! Electrode is the only one to be a total threat to him - those two are probably the ones to look out for the most. Terrific typings, the both of them.”

His sleeve was tugged to take him out of his musings: Lian twisted his mouth at him to properly figure out how to express his question, looking particularly pissed as he side-eyed what Ingo refused to look at but knew was probably a very smug Diamond warden with a burning desire to bury the guy alive, which would have severely worsened not just inter-clan relationships but also the fairly relaxed gathering they were having.

“So - this is all just, theories, right,” the kid began.

“Yes, based on types.”

Lian hummed deeply, pressing his mouth flat, and a fairly well-known feeling he could only denominate as Oh No took over Ingo as he dreaded the question.

“So you could tell who would win between Almighty Palkia and Dialga?”

Now that was something not to be touched with a 25 and a half foot pole, as evidenced by the other Pearl wardens shooting a glare at Lian and most of their Diamond counterparts paling notably.

Ingo, bless his heart, completely lost the religious implications somewhere in the cogs of his battle-analitycal machine churning in his brain.

“That would require an actual battle to be determined, actually!” he answered without missing a beat: “Both of them are Dragon types, meaning they have at the same time a massive advantage and disadvantage on one another, so effectively the chance at one prevailing over the other just based on that is rendered null, and since their secondary typings of Steel and Water are completely neutral to one another, a fight between the two of them would end up being rather balanced. It would also probably be an incredible spectacle with a very high chance of completely tearing reality as we know it apart according to professor Laventon’s studies, so it would be best for them and the rest of the world to remain on good terms and never have the chance to settle the score between them if they had any to settle.”

The young warden mumbled an agreement.

Not the way anybody expected a bomb like that to be defused.

But oh thank fuck it worked!

“What about the third one?” Iscan asked meekly. “The worm?”

Ingo buffered for a second: “Dragon-Ghost,” he recalled. “Same exact situation as the other two. No certain prevailing, and we should hope not to find out.”

“Ghost is good against Ghost, right?” Palina intervened.

The man nodded. A funny thought striked him: “With enough determination, it could be taken down by Basculegion. And by Avalugg as well.”

Gaeric cheered at his Lord’s good honor being restored.

[urne-buriall]

so you've told me now you like sotw alternate realities. well here's the river scene were Dean opens up to Cas about John's abuse way ahead of schedule, mere days after the 4th of july:

“There are things I want to tell you,” said Cas, “and questions I want to ask. But I’m never sure if I can.”

“What do you mean?” asked Dean.

“Sometimes I want to tell you about my family because I think you understand,” said Cas. “Other times… I’m just not sure.”

“You could tell me if you wanted,” said Dean. He wished Cas would say. He wanted so badly for Cas to trust him. “It wouldn’t change anything. You’d still be my friend, no matter what you said.”

Cas slowly nodded his head. “Right,” he said. He turned again. Started walking. “I don’t want to burden you. And like I said, talking isn’t my strength.”

There had been a test and Dean failed it. He was sure of it. He just didn’t know what he’d done wrong. Had he come on too strong? Had he seemed insincere?

Maybe he was supposed to offer something first. Maybe he needed to be the one to break open that levee, the one that would never close again. To find out if they shared anything, perhaps it was on Dean to say, my dad beats the shit out of me and has since I can remember.

“Cas, wait,” said Dean. He caught up with Cas, then continued walking. He didn’t quite look over his shoulder as he said, “I’ll tell you.”

At the river. He needed to be still, not in this in-between space on the path.

And as he walked, feeling Cas trail slowly after him, studying Dean, he wondered what he was about to do. How would he say it? Could he really confess this? Could he trust Cas with it?

He went to a rise above the river, where grass and clover turned into a straight-edged bank a few feet above the water. He took off his boots and set them aside, bare feet coming to rest in the cool green clover.

Cas came beside him and cautiously did the same. Dean wrapped his arms around his knees, unable to look at Cas next to him. Nearly shoulder-to-shoulder.

They’d sat like this the day of the rainstorm, talking idly before the downpour. That night, Cas stayed over and wore Dean’s clothes. Had stripped to nearly nothing on the covered porch, skin gold in the light and shining with rain.

Dean buried his face in the crook of his arm and tried to forget that.

“Dean?” said Cas, patience giving way to desperate curiosity.

Cas would say he seemed upset again. And if Dean took an outside look at himself, it was laughable to try and deny. He lifted his head.

He’d promised to tell Cas. It was the only way to find out more about Cas in return, and it was something Dean wanted badly enough that it brought him here. He was going to risk everything. For Cas.

“It’s my dad,” he said, surprised by the weakness of his own voice. Shaky, hoarse.

Cas looked Dean over carefully as he waited for more. He gave a faint nod.

“He’s… Tough.” That could be taken so many ways and Dean knew it. “On me,” he added, like it clarified anything. “Sometimes.”

Cas didn’t shift his posture, but the lines of his face became more deliberately contained. He took a moment to say, clear and even, “Does he hurt you?”

Dean looked sharply to the water. Only because his eyes began to burn, because he was losing his grip on the control he thought he had. He wasn’t supposed to cry over this. He was supposed to bear it. He was just going to state a fact, a fact he had lived with for so long and was strong enough to deal with. And it would have been different if Cas asked ‘does he hit you?’ but instead he’d said hurt, and that was a different question, wasn’t it? It was supposed to be easy to say hit, yes and move on without the impact of that action. But hurt made it so much more lasting.

He winced, trying to find another way around the answer, but then he nodded, a concession timed with the tears that came bitter and fast. He quickly bowed his head into his arms, not enough to hide the catching sound his breath made as he tried not to choke on this feeling.

He wasn’t supposed to be so upset. He wasn’t supposed to be this reactive. He wasn’t dead, it was nothing worth crying over.

Cas’ arm wrapped around his shoulder, a solid warmth that gave shape to Dean, keeping him from coming apart.

“I’m sorry,” Cas said, voice deep and low.

Dean tried to push down his feelings, raising his face even if it was tear-streaked and flushed. “About what?” he asked. Cas had nothing to be sorry for.

“That you’ve had to go through it,” said Cas.

Dean had never imagined anyone saying that to him. He thought he deserved to be called weak for putting up with it, or for crying about it now. He thought nobody would care if it happened to him or not. That anywhere he might’ve grown up he’d have been treated just the same because of the way he was. Never enough. All the things John implied and made him believe.

“You should leave,” said Cas.

“Is that what you did?”

“Yes.”

“I can’t,” said Dean. “Sam—”

“Does he hurt Sam, too?”

Dean shook his head. He felt oddly defensive. Of course John didn’t hurt Sam. Dean would never allow it. “I keep Sam out of it,” he said.

“You still shouldn’t stay.”

“It’s not that bad,” said Dean, like he hadn’t been trembling with the force of his tears just moments ago. His voice came thin. “Not enough to leave.”

“Any amount is enough to be worth leaving,” Cas said, so certain of himself.

Dean retreated back into denial. “It’s more complicated than that,” he said. “I’m— I’m not a kid anymore so…”

Cas’ arm fell away from Dean so that he could look at him better. Which was more dangerous and less comforting than his touch had been. “When was the last time it happened?”

Dean rubbed the edge of his hand against his wet cheek, not wanting to answer but unable to resist a direct question from Cas. He looked down at the river and cleared his throat. “Day before yesterday,” he said. If Cas were to roll his eyes, it wouldn’t be undeserved, but Cas stayed perfectly still. Dean’s fingertips brushed against his throat, wanting to say what happened, but unable to describe that part. “He was mad I brought Sam home. Against orders.”

He dropped his hand again, but Cas’ eyes stayed on his throat. Where a fading bruise could be taken for a smear of motor oil. Cas sharply inhaled, putting pieces together. His eyes scanned the rest of Dean’s body, pausing on his shoulder.

“Your broken arm,” said Cas.

“Yeah, uh,” said Dean. Thinking he’d find something better. “Yeah.” There wasn’t really a way to allay it. “He caught me— We were arguing. About eventing, and Zepp, and I thought if I could just get away from him. And he caught me on the steps and I— I fell down.”

“He’ll kill you,” Cas said.

Dean’s head jerked upward, facing Cas directly. “No,” he said. “He doesn’t want to do that.”

“So he’s in control when he hurts you,” said Cas.

“No!” said Dean quickly. Because that couldn’t be true. His father loved him or could. “When he’s mad he just— It flares up and then it’s over. And he’s sorry about it.”

“So he’s out of control,” said Cas. “Which means you’re in danger. Every time.”

Dean parted his lips to answer but Cas had him in a bind. Either John’s anger was out of control and a constant threat or it was in control and was used with full intention. Neither was good for Dean.

“I don’t want to leave,” said Dean, and that was more true than any of the apologies he’d tried to make on John’s behalf. He looked down between them. “I just want it to stop.”

Cas took a breath, almost started to say something, then didn’t. There was a kind of understanding in that holding back.

“What was it like for you?” Dean asked. It was the only reason he’d said anything. So that Cas would open up to him in turn. Cas thought there were things they had in common that Dean would understand.

“Different, probably,” said Cas. He went quiet, struggling with what to say, his eyes gazing nowhere as he grouped his thoughts. It was far easier to talk about Dean’s troubles than his own. “My mother was… unstable. Religious. Which made her hard to live with at the best of times. Never knowing which mother you were going to get.”

Dean could understand that. John was volatile too. It was a lot of work just planning for what version of John he’d meet in any given scenario.

“Would she hurt you?” he asked. He used the same word on purpose.

Cas didn’t cry, but he looked distant. “Yes,” he said. “She’d… She had punishments. She’d drag me by the ear to lock me in a cupboard for— for hours, when I’d done wrong.” Dean knew without Cas having to say that ‘doing wrong’ could be anything from causing trouble to colouring too loudly. He couldn’t imagine Cas being a trouble-making kid, not on purpose. But he mentioned being different when he grew up. Too emotional, finding it difficult to connect. That would be ‘wrong’ too.

“If we didn’t listen or were found impertinent, she would slap us,” said Cas.

“We?” said Dean.

“My siblings and I,” said Cas.

“I never knew you had siblings,” said Dean.

“Four of them,” said Cas. “They never left. I think. If they had, I hope they’d find me.” He shifted, picking at clover. “Then again, they had less trouble listening or understanding the right answer. I could never seem to figure it out. I was… different. And because I was a… a target, I think they didn’t always know that they had more in common with me than her.”

“And that’s why you left?”

Cas looked away and it told Dean how much more complicated it was than that.

“You said once…” Dean wet his lips before he spoke. “You said you didn’t feel like you had a choice.”

“I didn’t,” said Cas. “It was either live the way they wanted me to live, or leave. And I chose to leave.”

That made Cas probably the strongest person Dean knew. And just as Cas found it simpler to talk about Dean’s troubles, Dean found it easier to think of all Cas deserved.

“Remember what else you said?” Dean asked, the idea lighting up his mind as a fix for Cas’ incredible loneliness. “That you’d want a place with fresh air and animals where everything’s right. What if that was us? You know, like, around here so I didn’t really have to leave, but not with my dad, and—”

Cas was looking at him strangely. Dean’s excitement must have been somehow out of place, or the idea unappealing when Dean included himself. Cas hadn’t been making an offer of somewhere to stay, for Dean, when he warned him that John was a danger. This must not be what he was thinking of it all.

“Sorry,” said Dean quickly. His face flushed again, not helped by the heavy heat of the day. “I thought— When you said that, it sounded— It sounded so nice. But you want that on your own.”

“No, not on my own,” said Cas. “That defeats the point.”

“Right,” said Dean, and he placed his hands on the ground beside him, about to launch himself away from his foolish entry into the conversation. He needed to get away from Cas. He was hot. He should swim. If he could bear to get undressed.

Cas curled a hand around the inside of Dean’s arm just above the crease of his elbow. It wasn’t an iron grip, but it was solid, keeping him in place when he otherwise would’ve gone.

“I like spending my time with you,” Cas said in a rush. It was like he was answering something else, something neither of them had said. He didn’t look at Dean. “If I could give you somewhere to stay, away from your father— If you wanted that, I would do it.”

“We’re just—” Dean hesitated. “We’re just talking dreams, Cas,” he said.

“Why should it only be a dream?” said Cas.

This was more than Dean had ever reckoned on. So heavy it felt like lifting a weight from the bottom of a river.

“I mean that if you want to leave,” said Cas, “then you should. You could do it.” He let go of Dean’s arm, fingertips dragging away from his skin.

“It’s not as simple as that,” said Dean, finding himself confused. In one breath he suggested buying a farm with Cas, and in the next that he could never leave his father. It was just that what they talked about sounded too perfect to ever truly exist. How could Dean put any faith in something that exceeded his wildest dreams like that?

“If I bought a house with space for horses,” said Cas.

“Jeez, Cas,” said Dean.

“Would you come stay?”

“Are you for real?”

“If I could do it this minute, I would,” said Cas. “I don’t want to say goodbye and know you’ll go back to that house with John.”

“Could you do it?” said Dean. “Is that even possible?”

“I could figure it out,” said Cas. “One word. From you, and…”

“You think we can do this?” said Dean. “Then… Okay.”

And that was all it took. Cas leaned forward and kissed him.

Dean didn’t have time to think of it or react. The press of their lips was warm, sudden. A dangerous spark in a dry forest. As he pulled back, so did Cas, looking anxious.

“What was that?” said Dean.

Cas hadn’t looked away from Dean’s face, although there was something to the way he held his body, like he expected to run. “I just—” he said. His voice was every bit as gravelly and flat as usual, but he sounded uncertain, a rare note. “I…”

Cas had kissed him. Dean’s brain and body couldn’t make sense of it, couldn’t work together in any sensible way any longer. His heart started pounding. The heat of the day made sweat rise on the back of his neck and above the lip of his mouth. He was frozen but he was supposed to be doing something. Running from this, striking out, kissing Cas, jumping into the river.

“I shouldn’t’ve—” Cas looked stricken now. “I want to help you and it’s not— I made a mistake.”

Wasn’t this Dean’s fault? Just days ago he had wrapped himself around Cas in the shade of a garden and silently begged for his affection in any shape. He’d had that untoward dream the same night. The colour rose high in Dean’s cheeks and he looked swiftly at the river. Cas hadn’t kissed him in the dream, only touched him, but already Dean’s mind was conflating the real and the imagined, completely out of his control. Dean had stared too long the night of the rain storm. He’d been wrong to and he’d made this happen and it was all because he was broken up into pieces and he got things confused and now there was this, which was too much to handle.

Next to him, Cas rested his forehead against his fist, eyes scrunching closed. “I’m sorry, Dean,” he said.

Dean’s mouth remembered the touch of their lips and wouldn’t let go. He felt they were reddened by Cas’ kiss, the same as that day in the attic, that day when enchantment poisoned itself into sharp fear and which was exactly like right now. There was something wrong with him for all of this. For the fact that he wanted to kiss Cas again and really know what it felt like. If he was damned he wanted to know what he was damned for.

“I’m sorry,” Cas said again. “I thought you were like me.”

It struck Dean for the first time what that would mean. What it would be to be like Cas. What it meant Cas was. And how if he were to say Cas was correct right now, that Dean was not like him, it didn’t feel at all true. How if he were to be able to act on what was true, that would mean giving over to what was in him. He felt so miserable and scared and all he wanted was for Cas to cover over Dean’s body with his own. To hide in Cas’ collar, in the very hollow of his clavicle, the place he’d wanted to kiss just three days ago when he stole comfort from Cas in the garden.

He dragged his gaze back to Cas, who looked equally mired in his own despair.

“Cas,” he said, not certain of what he meant to follow. And when Cas looked at him he leaned in and kissed him.

Cas lost a sound against Dean’s mouth, a melting hum. His hand found the small of Dean’s back. This kiss came with another renewed one, chasing it, then Dean bowed his head, breaking it off but not breaking away. His body shifted deeper into Cas, his hand clutching Cas’ shirt, his forehead resting against the base of Cas’ neck. Cas held onto him this time, cheek brushing against the top of Dean’s head. A hand came up to stroke through Dean’s hair.

“Cas,” he said wretchedly.

“It’s okay,” said Cas. As much as anything could be okay. For a bare second, Dean wanted to believe it would be.

[i-am-minty-fresh]

(Here you are @certain-arcade-dinosaur)

Luffy blinks away the heavy weight of sleep to the harsh feeling of the sun baring down directly into his eyes. As his eyes finally open, he’s met only with the sun right above his head. Normally, he can’t look at the sun for too long or Chopper will tell him it can give his eyes ‘perforated damage’…but Chopper’s not here so he can stare all he wants!-

Choppers not here! He looks around him to find only sand, with waves pushing and pulling onto the nearby coast. He taps him head in contemplation before quickly noticing the familiar weight of his hat is neither on his head nor between his shoulder blades. He attempts to twist all the way around but finds something rigid on the back of his neck limits such contortions. Defeated by the rock in his neck he rushes onto his feet to turn around and look the boring way.

He’s met with an almost deserted island. Some spots of grass, a couple of shrubs, and one coconut tree. The island is small enough that he can walk the whole circumference of it without much thought. Turning away from the island and towards the sea he looks squints to look as far as he can. The sea sways and dips at will, but the reflection of the sun remains ever present amongst the waves.

His crew isn’t here. Something tells him that. He doesn’t quite know where here is but he knows that even if he could find his way off the island, only sea awaits him. Never a lions figurehead, never a blue nose, never orange or green hair, never warm food or lullabies.

Lonely?

Something whispers into Luffy’s mind. He turns to the island and squints, still seeing nothing of substance.

Our sea is vast but our path is never clear

He looks up to find his strawhat perched on a high-up branch on the lone tree in the middle of the island. He scrambles towards the base and starts his climbing, smiling widely at the thought of his treasure returning to him.

Why set out to sea at all if nothing is certain?

A few splinters and scraps cover his body before he finally gets to the branch holding his hat. Perching himself safely onto the thicker side, he gleefully places his hat onto his head, pulling the brim close, as a smile cuts through his face.

So much suffering, caused by my ignorance, how could anyone dream of something as selfish as sailing?

Finally, Luffy looks to the highest branch, only just out of reach to him, paying some acknowledgment to the noise.

I have no right for adventure when people need liberation….but how could I ever bring freedom at a time like this?

Hanging from the end of the branch is something familiar. A rotund purple fruit covered in swirls.

What adventures could even await me if we know only this land exists?

Staring back into the horizon, Luffy can make out the sun slowly setting.

I must rest.

The sun dies in a brilliant flash only for the water to get coated in the ink of the night sky. Luffy furrows his brow,

“Don’t give up, old man, they’re just not here yet!”

We alone carry the burden of liberation, we alone must sail-

“But that’s so boring! Once my nakama come, you’ll get what I mean! Nami and Jinbei are much better at sailing than we are, anyway! Plus if anyway’s sick, Chopper can help. If anyone’s hungry, Sanji can help. If anyone dead, Robin can help. My nakama are all so helpful! Besides…” Luffy stands on the small branch, steady even as the it lurches under his weight, “we’re pirates! We’re supposed to be selfish!” He smiles….

Islands start to erupt from the sea. Birds come into view along the horizon alongside thousands of ships. One ship, faster than the rest, expertly cuts through the island like icebergs coming from the sea bed. As it gets closer, the sound of laughter is better heard. Despite its multiple undocked anchors it arrives at the shore in record time. An out of tune guitar, a handmade flute, a well-loved violin and a bunch of untrained voices sing along to an old pirate shanty.

White clouds fill like fog around the coconut tree.

“What do you say, old man?” The pirate king turns to face a god older than time, “you wanna join my pirate crew?”

Was it always this easy?

“Only if you let it be!”

The dawn finally comes.

[violettduchess]

Please can I have 16 with Keith sorry if it is late thank uou and congratulations for the milestone you deserve them all 🎉🎊🤗🙏

A/N: Hi @queengiuliettafirstlady and thank you for the request! This also fulfills an anon request for breathless kiss with Leonardo or Silvio (I did both!)

WC: 1335

Keith

Your horses' hooves churn the earth of the field underfoot as it flies through the tall grass like a skiff on the water. The wind tugs at your hair, your clothing, caresses your skin with cool fingers. The Jadean countryside rolls by in a blur of emerald green and sky blue. You and your steed move as one, racing towards your goal: the small pond on the edge of the palace grounds. Keith’s voice travels the wind to reach you and a breathless laugh escapes your chest as you hear him begging his horse to hurry up.

But he’s too slow. The pond comes into view and you leap triumphantly down from your swift mare just seconds before Keith pulls the reins of his snow-colored stallion. “I won!” you manage to say, your breath staccato as you struggle to catch it. He slides off his mount, giving it a gentle pat on the neck. “Good try, boy,” he murmurs. The horse joins its friend, drinking mouthfuls of cool, refreshing water. The Jade Prince approaches you, golden eyes alight with admiration. “I believe the winner traditionally gets a prize.”

Your poor heart has no chance, its quickened rhythm only increasing as Keith removes his pristine white gloves, tucking them into the pocket of his forest green coat. He steps towards you, cupping your face in his bare hands, framing it with his strong fingers. You meet his gaze, naked yearning painted in sunrise across your face. This gives the usually shy prince the boost of confidence he needs as he leans down to kiss you.

He is sweeter than iced cream on a hot day, gentler than the twilight when it cradles the day-worn earth. He kisses you like it is an honor, a privilege. His hands stroke your skin, almost trembling in disbelief that you would allow this, as if worried that you may disappear at any moment like a burst of dandelion seeds in a summer breeze. 

You have imagined this moment a thousand times since meeting him, and yet nothing you have ever dreamed comes close. When you part, he is as breathless as you are.

Leonardo

You’re sitting in one of the most beautiful concert halls in the world. Golden, ornamental lamps, plush red velvet and mahogany seating, balconies with intricate designs carved from the most expensive wood. It is the incarnation of everything lush and elegant. But even its majestic beauty isn’t what has you breathlessly on the edge of your seat. The story told through the grace of the ballet playing out on the gigantic stage before you has captured your imagination completely. 

You watch, hand over heart, as the heroine dances her way through the dark forest, intent on saving the man she loves. The lead dancer, in her glittering white, leaps and twirls her way through the dozens of others dressed as black shadows. You gasp when they hold her, lift her and spin, menacing despite their beauty.

Leonardo reaches over, covering your hand with his. You offer him a quick squeeze in acknowledgement but don’t look away. While you’re spell-bound by the ballet, he is spell-bound by you. Your face is flushed with emotion, your hand pressed against your heart as if keeping it inside your chest. You look radiant, bathed in the dim, wavering light of the concert hall. The heroine defeats the shadows, reaching her prince only to have to battle the devil himself. What follows is a gravity-defying duel, a dance between good and evil, innocence and sin.

It is only when the heroine defeats the prince of darkness and leaps into her lover’s arms that you tear your gaze away from the stage to look at Leonardo. “Isn’t it beautiful?” All he sees is your face, your eyes bright with unshed tears, your heart racing with the adrenaline of the show, dusting your skin with warmth. And he can’t help it. He leans forward, capturing your lips with his. A moment passes where you are still, the emotion of the story ebbing to let in this new flood of emotion sparked by his kiss.

And then you’re melting into him, the tension that had held you on the edge of your seat dissipating. The heroine embraces her rescued prince and you wrap your arms around Leonardo, kissing him back with the full-force of your racing heart.

Silvio

You have to win. The waves roll over your head as you swim beneath their pull, racing your way to the shore. Your heart hammering steadily in your chest, a coxswain giving the muscles of your legs and arms the rhythm they need to keep up a steady pace. But Silvio is right behind you. You can sense it. You can feel his nearness, the force of his determination to win, conducted through the water like electricity. 

You were shocked when he took the bet. The swim out to the buoy had been relaxing, both you enjoying the cold water and warm sun. But then he had gotten cocky, telling you what a fantastic swimmer he is, “the best. No one fucking faster.” And his bragging had needled you so much, you opened your mouth, claiming you could beat him. Sure your swimming was limited to rivers and ponds, but it couldn’t be that much harder out in the ocean. Could it? Those brilliant blue eyes had flashed at the challenge. “What’s it gonna cost you when I win?” “A truth. No matter what I ask, you have to answer honestly.” He regarded you for a moment, body swaying with the rhythm of the waves, one hand on the red and white buoy. “It works both ways,” he finally said. “You gotta tell the truth when I win. Which I will.”

You don’t even know what you will ask him but it doesn’t matter now as you propel yourself through the salty water. You just want to win. To see that smug smile on those damned beautiful lips disappear. So you swim as you have never swum before, willing yourself forward towards the beach. But try as you might, Silvio is a child of Benitoite, raised by the wind and the waves. He cuts through the water like Poseidon just as the sandy beach comes into view. By the time you reach the fine white sand, he’s already sitting there, breathing hard as the ocean’s foam tugs at his legs. You collapse on your back into the sand beside him, breathless as you look up at the endless expanse of blue sky.

“I won. So I get to ask a question.” He turns, looking down at where you’re laying, cheeks flushed with exertion, chest rising and falling as you claim control over your lungs. You can only nod, feeling the way the sand softly cushions the back of your head. He leans down, silver hair dark with sea water, eyes sapphire-bright. “Do you wanna kiss me?” What an unfair question. Because you have to answer it honestly and you’re not sure you are ready for that. But your bet has you staring up at him, his face and shoulders glistening with water droplets, and your heart bounces off the ropes like a boxer ready to go another round of frantic beating.

“Yes.” The word is so small but it  feels like it could change your world. Silvio grins slowly. “Knew it.” And he leans back. You blink. He’s not making a move to kiss you and a very irritated part of you realizes he only wanted the admission. Not today, sir. Like a cresting wave, you surge upwards and pull him down, kissing him passionately. He goes stiff with shock. But then his body takes over before his mind can ruin anything and he lowers himself down, the length of him pressed against you. As the cool ocean breaks around your entwined bodies, as his mouth returns your kisses with a heat that feels it may burn you alive, you realize you were right. This moment will change the world as you know it. For the better.

Tagging: @aquagirl1978 @alixennial @alexxavicry @rhodolitesrose @ikemen-writer @bellerose-arcana @thewitchofbooks @aria-chikage @redheadkittys @tele86 @dear-mrs-otome @firestar-otomeobsessed @curious-skybunny @rhodoliteschaos @kpop-and-otome @writingwhimsey @mxrmaid-poet @silver-dahlia @wendolrea @otomefoxystar @nightfoxqueen @myonlyjknight @bubblexly

[tiny-minecraft-rabbit]

Untitled Soulmate Goose

Or, Joel and his terrible, horrible, no good, very bad misadventure for his soulmate. This is the Final Chapter!

Here for Chapter One - Read on AO3 - Next Chapter (coming soon)

It was a long time of people watching before Joel was really getting bored. There were only so many families with kids and dog walkers and couples holding hands and guys on boats that he could take before he completely lost his mind. Honestly, how patient was this stupid goose? Did it not have other things to do? (The answer was an obvious, resounding, No, but that meant nothing to Joel.)

He had tried a few times to sneak off of the top of the bench, but the goose was persistent and observant. Any time he thought the thing had drifted off or was distracted it only took his foot touching the grass for it to spring to attention. He was half tempted to just make a break for it at this point and hope he could outrun the damned thing and wait out the disaster in the safety of his own home. 

“Hey, man–” Joel turned away from the park entrance to make eye contact with the stranger that just walked up “–Uh, I hate to ask, but I’ve been watching you for like the last hour, do you want me to, like, scare the goose off for you?” 

The guy was, unfortunately, tall and kind of handsome, in a mysterious sort of way (though, of course, they weren’t any taller or handsomer than Joel, especially since he was standing on the bench now). Their left eye was a stormy grey and the other a burning red– bright, like redstone. Their hair was silver, cropped short and their bangs held back by a bandanna. They had a black mask covering their lower face, an olive green jacket with fur, black cargo pants, and bright green crocs that matched the pair Joel had at home. They held themselves with the confidence of someone that thought themselves better than average birds but uncomfortable around people in general.

Joel eyed them up and down and scoffed, “Doubt it. This is not your average goose problem. It’s an above average one. That goose isn’t budging.” 

The goose honked, this one holding a softer tilt to it, like it was agreeing joyously with Joel. Joel thought about kicking it. 

The stranger hummed, like they didn’t quite believe it, and took a step towards the goose. “Well, let me just see about–” 

As soon as they were in pecking range the goose sprung forward. The guy yelped and tried to backpedal but the goose was rounding on their heels now. They were apparently very easily herded by water fowl, cause it only took about thirty seconds for them to be jumping on the bench and joining Joel.

“That goose is crazy!” They huffed between panicked breaths, staring at it with wide eyes.

“I tried to tell you, man! It’s blooming stubborn,” Joel grumbled, crossing his arms. “I will say you’re the only other person it’s attacked, it’s only had eyes on me since my stupid, dumb, awful roommate and his even stupider, dumber and awfuller boyfriend summoned it. It’s nice that it’s branching out, maybe at this rate I can go back home if I can get it to focus on you long enough.” 

“Summoned?” They questioned with a squeak.

“Oh, yeah, it’s like a soulmate guide or something. I don’t know, it’s been a pretty shoddy one. It chased me to this park but basically gave up the moment it couldn’t reach my shins to bite me anymore. Like, where even is my soulmate? Why couldn’t the goose just show me their number in the phone book or something.” 

“It’s a soulmate guide?”

“That’s what I said.” 

“And I’m the only other person it’s, like, attacked?” 

“Uh, yeah? You having a hard time hearing, mate?” 

The stranger stared at him for a moment before darting their gaze away, face turning a readily growing pink, “So, doesn’t that mean… we could be soulmates, or something?” 

Joel blinked wide for a few minutes before looking down at the goose, “You made me wait this long for this guy?” 

“What? Hey!” They whined. Joel could practically see their pout under the mask. “That’s uncalled for, man, I’m a catch!” 

“People who are “catches” usually don’t need to say they are, unless they're me of course. I’m certainly more of a catch than you are, since your main points of attraction are like the mysterious vibes you got going on and not much else.” 

They smirked (Joel could see it in their eyes), “So you do think I’m attractive?” 

Joel’s face, down to his neck, heated up, “No! Not at all… Shut up!” 

“I’m Etho,” they said instead of shutting up, chuckling a little. 

“Joel,” he replied begrudgingly, and held out his hand, “It’s a pleasure; for you that is.”

Etho rolled their eyes and shook his hand, “I’m sure. Though, the goose I could have done without.”

“I agree.” 

There was a ruffle of feathers and they both turned to the goose. The goose that was now standing on the edge of the table, a fire in its eyes.

“Run?” 

“Run.” 

The goose chased them both. 

At some point one of them had grabbed the other’s hand. The two of them ran down to the lake, fingers interlocked, and jumped into the first available rental boat they could. They would pay for the rental later, of course, when they’d finally lost stupid bird. Until then they hurriedly rowed away, laughing their asses off as they tried (and failed) to out-paddle the goose. 

[f1a1w1n]

Centre of it all (Cal Kestis x (f!) reader)

Part one

Summary: You, a jedi hides on the most remote plant in the galaxy. No one can find you, or so you think. Enemies to lovers, Friends to lovers etc.

Word count: 1k

Warnings: none

Authors note: I'm writing a new fic. if you have any ideas pls tell me, comment or tel me in the google form at the bottom. love ya pls enjoy

~

Rain. 

A stupid amount of rain. Not that it bothered you particularly or anything, its just your speeder was rusted at this point and left at home, and you were so used to the dry weather and walking everywhere that it had become a habit to walk to the market whenever you needed anything. 

It was a small town that you lived on the outskirts of, on a small planet, in a small system on the outer rim of the galaxy. The town you live in was mainly made of wet grey bricks -now covered in blooming green moss. You stand on the steps of a small grocer, a small shel of wet rock your only cover. The grocer - if you can even call it that, it's just old Syue with her imports and exports of the week, sometimes it's fresh produce and sometimes it's best to stick to the non-perishables. 

As you wait foolishly for the rain to stop you think back to two weeks ago - a strange disturbance in the force, something bright, energetic… terrifying. The small planet was your only refuge, growing tired of moving around - this small gem was your lifeline in a never ending cesspool of politics. That presence in the force was alluring to you, your mind constantly flicking back to it. What was it? 

“Fuck it.” You say. You bolt down the street, groceries clutched in hand. You turn the corner ducking under cover whenever you can. Eventually you reached your small house, on the very edge of town. Surrounded by foliage and dense grass your house stood defiantly against the rain, brave little thing. 

You kick off your shoes and dump the groceries on the counter. You squeeze out as much water from your hair as you can. You glance at the clock. 

“Ugh.” It was time for work. I mean as bad as jobs go, this wasn’t the worst. You can’t really find jobs as a jedi can you? No - you can’t, and working as a waitress isn’t horrible?

Your blanket and pillows still remain on the floor from when you had fallen out of bed this morning, a vivid dream burned into your eyes. A bright red energy in a field of dull grey reaching out to you. “No” you say in your dream. The red energy creeps forward. “Who are you?” No reply. Suddenly the energy takes a vague form, it's a man. You can barely hear him say something. “Pardon?” you say. 

“...who are you…” you barely catch the man say - then all of a sudden you flung from your dream and you wake up on your floor. 

Dreams like this have been clouding your mind for months now. You're barely getting any quality sleep.

~

Jido Kara’s Tavern

For the most part, this evening was the busiest shift you had seen in a long time. Practically the whole town was there. You speculate its cause of the most recent import of alcohol, courtesy of Old Syue.

Wring the rag between your hands as you sit down your boss sits next to you.

“Why don’t you call off early? Rica is coming in to cover your shift.”

“Okay, sure. I’ll just get a drink first.”

He gives you a pat on the back and waddles off to the back. A game of sport is playing on the tiny tv at one side of the bar - close to the door where everyone is huddled. Cries of yay’s and boo’s chorus through the bar as the town's favourite team play. Obviously, you choose the opposite end of the bar to sit. The bartender, Deonor, pours you a drink and winks.

“On the house.” 

You smile gratefully, unable to make small talk. He doesn’t chide you for it. What seems like an hour goes by when you occasionally look at the game and sipping at your drink. Deonor refills it. Then suddenly you see a head of red hair poke through the crowd which surrounds the small tv. He boo’s and cheers with the rest of the group. You wave Deonor over. 

“Do you know that guy?” You carefully point to him. 

Deonor thinks for a second. “Hm yeah, he’s new. He’s been coming in for the last two weeks getting drinks if I remember correctly.”

“Oh right.” You say as nonchalantly as possible.

“Why?”

“Oh, no reason, just curious.” You say lost in thought. Why does he feel familiar? You can’t help but stare at the back of his head. Maybe if you stare long enough you’ll know. 

“I think he was looking for someone.” Deonor says. But you barely hear him, too intent on this man’s familiarity. 

“Uh huh.” you say, taking another sip of your drink. You can barely make out his face, only his hair is visible over the small ground of sports enthusiasts. 

“I think he was looking for you.” Deonor says. 

You almost spit out your drink. “I’m sorry what?” just as you say this you lock eyes with the man. You can almost feel your face flush as his bright eyes scan your face. But just as quickly as he looked at you, you turned around and high-tail for the back exit. 

“Wait” the man says over the crowd. 

You ignore him speed walking back home. Why did he feel so familiar? Just to be sure you reach out with the force scanning the crowd and sure enough, a bright red presence at the centre of it all.

If you want to be tagged, or recommend anything, fill this out. 

[tobythewise]

Back again with another DAtober prompt! Today's prompt is: Echos of the Past featuring M!Lavellan/Solas. This one is post Trespasser, post breakup, Bi Solas, Angsty Bois being Angsty

Blinking his eyes, Lavellan realizes very quickly that he’s in a dream. He rubs at his eyes, adjusting to the idea of being awake in a dream. He’s exhausted, completely run down to the bone, but he can’t give up. He won’t give up. 

Just like every night he finds himself in a dream, he can feel eyes on him, like a crawling feeling at the back of his neck that lets him know he’s not alone. Lavellan looks around, trying to get his bearings. 

He’s in a little meadow, the sun shining down. There’s a pool of water and a forest all around, darkness swirling around the bases of the trees, like it’s trying to reach out and grasp the light from the meadow. 

Lavellan steps into the middle of the meadow, sitting down and lifting his face towards the sun, letting it warm him. 

“I wish you’d just come out,” he calls out, knowing it won’t do anything, it won’t change anything. He still feels compelled to try. He clenches his hand and pain runs through the upper part of his left arm, a phantom pain left behind when Solas took care of the anchor. 

Lavellan lays back in the grass, staring up at the clouds. He wants to be angry, but instead, all he feels is despair. This isn’t fair. None of it is fair. Why did he have to fall for a literal god? Why did he have to let Solas in only to have everything come crumbling down around him? He gave the world everything he had and in return, he got his heart shattered. 

“You’re gathering all the elves but have you forgotten what I am? Why didn’t you ask me? Why haven’t you even given me a chance?”

Warmth floods behind his eyes. He wants to push it away, but he’s tired of keeping it together. Lavellan lets himself cry. The tears stream down the sides of his face, past his ears, down into the grass below him. 

“Please, ma vhenan,” he says softly, barely above a whisper. He’s not expecting a response. They’ve been doing this for so long, keeping each other company during their dreams but always keeping their distance. The longing inside his chest is so strong it might actually break him. 

A shadow covers him and Lavellan opens his eyes. He startles when his eyes meet soft green ones. They’re so achingly familiar. Reaching out, Solas touches his face, wiping his tears away, cleaning his face. 

Lavellan whimpers, leaning into the touch. He never wants this to end. Just maybe, his heart is capable of healing. Maybe mending is possible. 

“Solas,” he says, his chest aching like a strained muscle. “Solas, ma vhennan. Please stay.”

Solas’ face crumbles. The longing in Lavellan’s heart is mirrored on Solas’ face. 

“Ir abelas, ma vhenan.”

“No,” he whispers, his eyes widening at the words. Solas gives him a soft smile and a moment later, Lavellan is waking up in his bed alone.

[crystalgastles]

Nightmares

This is Jeff’s nightmare from after the flesh. It can be read as a stand alone so I’m posting it here , my slendermans influence is included in this so enjoy TW for regular Jeff the killer stuff and religious themes

My lungs tightened when I saw the wood front steps of my old church, the green carpet in the foyer supposed to replicate grass squished underneath my feet because of the years of warm Florida humidity, weather, and rain. The brown wooden tables on each side of this small room grew mold while the flowers inside the vase were dead and now filled with standing water. The pictures of the crucifixion hung above each one. I couldn’t bring myself to open the wooden doors.

But they opened for me. The inside was in perfect condition. No the inside was in a service. No I set this place on fire years ago. No there was my father standing at the pulpit, staring me down.

His eyes were angry but his smile stayed the same. I felt like a small child who spilled milk on the carpet when he spoke.

“My oldest has decided to join us today! Jeff, come sit by your mother. Looks like my prayers were answered today folks”

No. No. I cut him into pieces. His head stuck on the end of their bedpost. I remember his blood on my hands. The fat from his gut spilling when I sliced it open. I remember but he is in front of me. Angry.

I still sat beside my mother the woman I shot in the head. My brother on her other side looking at me with concern. I was the only one in here covered in dirt and not wearing slacks. I couldn’t make out what he was preaching about. Fear gripped my being as the rest of the church stared at me.

A tap on my shoulder

“Why are you so late?”

A whisper, someone so familiar it made me relax.

“Jane?”

“Yeah dumbass you were supposed to be here at seven”

“Jane no no. Jane please go you can’t be here”

“I’m here every Sunday, what’s wrong with you?”

“Go. This isn’t right you need to go. Go.”

My voice was raised as I stood, back facing the stage my father stood on. The stained glass shone across her pale face and black hair.

No this isn’t right. Her eyes were black. Her skin was too smooth to white almost mask like, the only person in the whole congregation that wore black. Her smile twisted into something I didn’t recognize. This was not Jane. Not my best friend since childhood , journalist who wanted nothing to do with me Jane.

“STOP”

“Jeff sit back down now”

My father spoke, angrily through his teeth while I frantically looked for anything to set this place back on fire.

“You shut the fuck up!”

“Language!”

“Stop. All of you stop. Stop stop just.”

You poor thing.

You want this to end

I was with you when you spilled your first blood. I have watched you for years. You didn’t deserve this.

I hit my own skull, on my knees now, pulling chunks of hair out as a cried out.

“Make it stop! I’ve had enough!”

I found my lighter and ran. Finding the curtains that lit too easily. The wood of the church catching next as people ran out, screaming, some catching, burning up in flames and turning into dust almost instantly. until I was the only one left inside. My family now the corpses I remember.

I stood on the steps, covered in soot and sweat, my back facing the burning church.

You are bound to suffering because of the sins of your father

These people don’t deserve salvation. You deserve your penance

I am nor good nor evil I simply am and I am here to do what needs to be done.

This thing. That stood in front of me while I heaved, my face covered in tears and sweat. What used to be wings reached out like tendrils. Hovering over me while I shook like a small child. It’s one beady black eye blinking at me as it spoke. Not spoke. Echoed to me in a voice I couldn’t comprehend while I backed up onto the burning steps. Fire engulfing my legs. While it continued to move closer to me and I couldn’t back up any further.

Be not afraid.

I ran back into the church. My entire body now in flames like the burning embers of hell. The devil himself chasing after me as I fell onto the pulpit. It’s hand reaching out to grab my arm as it turned me around to force me to look at it.

I am here now as you run from me still.

Run then child

You can’t hide from me forever

[clansofafeather]

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER CW: Young pregnancy, mild blood

Petuniapaw’s steps were careful. They slunk through the tall grasses of the riverlands, trying to keep their body low to the ground. The only sound around them was the sound of their own heart beating in their chest, and the shrill cry of cicadas near the water. It was a bit chilly, and the apprentice’s body shivered. Leaf-bare would come soon.

The scent they had picked up matched that of the cat they had met the day prior, with Dahliapaw. Their pelt bristled slightly as they remembered how afraid the she-cat looked, the sadness on her face as she ran away, and just how harsh Dahliapaw had been towards her.

They knew they didn’t have permission to be out, especially not so late. But they also knew that they longed to find this mysterious she-cat, and make things right with her.

The smell was growing stronger, combined with two new scents that made Petuniapaw freeze. The first was a sweeter smell, a smell they recognized from their days in the nursery as the scent of milk. The second smell, however, almost made them gag. It was metallic and sour, the smell of blood.

Pawsteps quickening, Petuniapaw began to run, following the strange combination of scents until they stumbled upon a den made from a bush. There, huddled inside, was the same she-cat from before.

A nest had been hastily created for the young, shivering molly to lay on. She looked up at Petuniapaw with wide, frightened green eyes, her fur matted and mildly dampened with sweat. The scent of blood Petuniapaw smelled before came from a deep cut in her right hind leg, the ground below it stained with a dark crimson.

The final thing Petuniapaw noticed was the two young kits huddled at her belly. They were less than a moon old. In fact, they were probably mere days old based on their appearance. One of the kits was a tortoiseshell like their mother, with white markings. The second kit was black, also with white markings. 

This confused Petuniapaw. The she-cat was young. She appeared to be the age of a young warrior, and definitely far too young to be responsible for the lives of others.

“Oh, please, spare me!” The she-cat pleaded, visibly tensing as if preparing to run away. “I recognize you from yesterday! Please, I can’t leave! I’m too weak to carry these kits…”

“No, it’s okay,” Petuniapaw replied. They looked around, making sure no-cat was around before turning their attention back to the queen. “Are you okay? What happened to your leg?”

“Oh…I hurt myself running away from you and your friend…” The she-cat looked down at her front paws, curling her tail to both protect her kits and cover her injury. 

“I’m sorry. My brother…He isn’t the nicest cat to stumble upon.” Petuniapaw sighed heavily, their shoulders sagging a bit. “Do you need help? What’s your name?”

“Amber.”

“Amber…Well, maybe you can come back with me! I’m sure Blossomstar wouldn’t turn away a mother with kits-”

“No.” Amber’s whiskers twitched, and she tensed her body further. “I appreciate the offer, truly, but…I would rather build my strength and leave with my kits. I don’t want to be a burden to you or your group.”

“Can I at least help you? We have enough herbs and prey to spare!” Petuniapaw let the words spill out of their mouth. They knew that they should just leave Amber alone, turn around and walk away, but the sight of her looking so sad and hurt tore at their heart.

Amber was silent. She laid her head down between her front paws, sighing heavily before responding. “Do what you please.” 

Petuniapaw nodded. “O-okay! Hang on, I’ll be back!”

They scrambled back, turning and rushing away from the bush. They stalked back into CraneClan camp, trying to keep their pawsteps silent-

“Petuniapaw?”

Fox-dung! Petuniapaw froze and looked around camp until they met eyes with Lilyeye. The deputy was staring at them with her head tilted, sitting outside of the warrior’s den. Her tail was tucked around  her paws neatly.

Petuniapaw padded over to Lilyeye, looking up at their mentor. “Sorry. I was going to the dirtplace…I woke up with the worst stomach ache...” They lied.

Lilyeye’s eyes narrowed, and the tip of her tail twitched. “Hmm. You should see Tallsky and Orchidpaw, then.” She stated.

“I will, if it doesn’t go away before patrols.” Petuniapaw meowed. 

“Alright.” Lilyeye chuckled, leaning down and nudging the apprentice’s cheek with her nose. “I hope you’re not trying to get out of your little punishment!”

Petuniapaw laughed, shuffling closer to the gray and white she-cat with a purr. “I promise I’m not. That’s something Dahliapaw would do.”

Lilyeye sighed, wrapping her tail around Petuniapaw. “I’m aware. I hope that he changes soon. He has so much potential, and I would hate for it to be wasted on a…Useless cat.”

“It’s my mom’s fault.” Petuniapaw blurted out, before looking away with a frown. “Um..I’m sorry. I didn’t mean that-”

“No, I agree.” Lilyeye shook her head, before standing and turning to leave. “Both of us better get rest the best we can. Oh, and Petuniapaw?”

Petuniapaw, who was already walking away, turned to face Lilyeye. “Yeah?”

The deputy smirked, before slipping into the warrior’s den.

“Bring her cobweb, horsetail, and borage.”

(A/N: A bit of a shorter chapter, but things should pick up soon!)

[rain-dom]

[Girl to Femboy Transformation] Coming Out Of His Cocoon.

“Goddammit! No service, still!”

Stacey was holding up her phone into the air, desperately trying to get some sort of connection to the outside world.

Stuck in the middle of the A Thousand Eyes Forest, with no connection to the internet, no way to call anyone, and no way home, this would be a nightmare for the average person. But this was pure hell for Stacey, a popular social media star, who was used to her millions of adoring fans - and haters - watching her every move, either judging and mocking her, or cheering her on and defend her her at every turn. That was company.

Not that she cared about any of them that much, anyway. Blind hate or love was all the same, as long as she kept up her good-girl schtick online and kept growing her audience, it didn’t matter what people online thought. Even her shallow fellow-influencer “friends” only tolerated her so that they could get numbers off of her and vice-versa. Purely transactional. She didn’t need true friends or companions, all she needed were the increasing views and followers, which made her more money, which made her Mom and Manager happy, and that’s all that mattered.

Well, until recently. Stacey wanted to stop being online all of the time for the sake of her mom’s praise, and wanted to go out and find herself. Get a hobby that she liked, go on dates with cute boys - stuff any nineteen-year-old would do.

Let’s just say… her mom wasn’t too happy with her daughter’s newfound sense of self, with her kicking her out of the house indefinitely. So, Stacey would, after joining her “friends” on this camping trip, she would leave her campsite and never come back.

In any case, she didn’t even have them to comfort her. And making matters worse, her phone died, due to the lack of battery.

In the middle of the night.

“Ugh, well isn’t this just terrific!” she yelled as she kicked a rock, which bumped off of a large, nearby tree, scattering a few animals - birds, rabbits, raccoons, and squirrels. Unknown to her, however, her careless actions made this old tree spirit unhappy with her.

“I’m stuck here alone with little food and water, in the middle of some…disgusting forest, walking in circles in the dark. And I can’t see shit! Who even names a forest A Thousand Eyes, anyway?? So creepy…” she said as she ate the last of her chocolate bar, which she then tossed onto the lush, green grass. “And my boots are all dirty, too!” she pouted, gesturing to her $5,000 pink glittery boots, covered in thick, brown mud.

“Know those bitches are gonna have a blast with me out of the picture. They’re probably already making their sad little videos about ‘HoW muCH tHeY mIsS StAcEy’, then a week later they’ll post some expose about me or whatever.” She laughed.

She sat down at the bottom of a large, ancient tree, and sighed. It was starting to rain, and she started to cry with the sky above.

“I guess this is what I get for not getting you enough views, huh, mom? You got what you wanted. Now, you don’t even have to face me! God, you’re so…arghh!! I HATE you!!” She yelled, breaking down in tears.

“I wish I could have seen you for who you were before! But it’s too late for that now. Maybe this is just what I deserve. Not like I’m a saint, or whatever.”

She closed her eyes and decided to at least get herself some shut eye.

Stacey awoke to a voice, one that was deep and ancient sounding.

“Stacey Steinberg. You and your companions have desecrated our home, the Forest of A Thousand Eyes.”

It was morning now, and the rain had long since subsided. “Is the tree… talking to me? Through my head? God, I must be going crazy…”

She knew what this tree was talking about, though. Her and her friends did make a mess at their campsite, leaving all sorts of junk - wrappers, water bottles, and even food.

“So that’s why it’s called the Forest of A Thousand Eyes.” Stacey thought, feeling both embarrassed and fearful of this forest that watched her every move.

She turned to face the tree, and crossed her arms over her chest. “Y-you know, being stuck in the middle of this stupid forest is punishment enough, so if you think-“

“We were thinking of a punishment, yes. But sensing your pain, your frustration, and your anger against your fellow humans who have wronged you - and us - we thought it would be best if you could join us in our great battle against your kind.”

She sighed. “I have literally nothing else better to do so, what do you want me to do, hive-mind?”

“Let yourself be renewed by the vines, and let us mold you into the Protector of the Forest of A Thousand Eyes.”

“Protector?? Of this forest? I hate this forest, but…not gonna lie, I like the title though. Protector. You know…I don’t dislike the sound of that”, she said with smirk.

“So be it.”

The clouds parted, and light beamed down onto the spot Stacey was sitting. The green tree she was sitting on glowed green, its layers in its bark shining brightly. Stacey took a step back, closed her eyes, and turned her head away from the tree, shielding them from the light by holding her hands out.

“Our vines will mold your body to your liking. You will have all the powers of the forest, and will protect all life within it, with your life. Now, remove your clothing and lay on the Home Tree. You will be gagged with the vines as well. This is done so that you can be as connected to nature as possible. But, you will be able to communicate with your voice and your thoughts if you want us to terminate the modifications at any time.”

“…you guys are bunch of perverts.” She said with a disgusting look on her face, opening her eyes as the light dimmed. “But hey, I’ve got nothing more to lose. And…hm, it would be nice to exist in a different body.”

She did as they said. First, she took off her pink and purple backpack. She then took off her clothes - a pink leather jacket, her pink boots, white sweater crop top, her light blue skirt.

Then, she took off her pink panties and bra, and her white socks, and laid on the tree trunk.

Then, the tree glowed again.

“Ugh…I feel so warm-agh!”

She saw as she was being covered in vines, as they one by one started to wrap around her hands, arms, legs, neck, and torso. The vines restrained her arms and legs, pinning her to the tree.

“Eww!” Stacey said, disgusted as more of the vines wrapped around her body. The vines covered up her eyes and shoved themselves into her mouth, gagging her, and squeezed and wriggled around her head and throat, making her face change somewhat, although she didn’t know in what way, but it felt…good, nonetheless. Her straight, neck-length blonde hair felt longer and free.

Meanwhile, she heard her voice deepen, sounding more boyish.

“Mmm..ohh..” she said with her new voice as her muscles began to relax.

“Oh! hah….” The vines squeezed around her chest, pushing down on her breasts, as if they were massaging them. Her shoulder and arms felt like they were pushing out of her body, as if like bubbles of stress were popping out of them.

She felt the vines tighten around her waist and hips, massaging them as well.

“Are you enjoying the changes so far?” Home Tree asked.

”I can’t believe I’m saying this, but…yeah, the feels so good!” She thought, while also nodding in between her muffled moans.

“We have one more change we need to address - would like us to give you a beautiful gift?”

”Mm-hmgh!” Stacey agreed.

With that, she felt the vines quickly spread her legs, as something warm and slimy ran down her thighs from her crotch. Something started to tickle her clit, making Stacey’s body tremble and moan with great pleasure.

After thirty seconds, the teasing stopped.

”H-hey, what’s the hold up—AH!”

After the teasing, it felt like two large vines were inserting themselves into her pussy and her anus, each one taking turns fucking her.

”Oh, fuck yes!” Casey thought, her moans getting loader and loader, the penetrations becoming faster and faster, harder and harder until she finally felt herself squirt.

”Wow…I’d never thought my first time would be with a tree, but…fuck! I don’t care anymore! This feels great!”

Then, she felt the vines, tugging, pulling…something in her vagina.

”Oh god, what’s happening nOwW?!?”

As the vines kept pulling whatever was inside of her out of her, she felt it growing, expanding…twitching. She also felt two other, smaller things being pulled after it, growing size as well.

The vines then wrapped around those unidentified things, then pulled them even harder.

”Gagh!! Ooh!!” Casey groaned. ”What is that thing??”

As the vines kept pulling, the faster those things grew. Faster and faster, bigger and bigger did they grow, until they were…pulled outside of her?

The vines tugged on them three more times, with more and more of them wrapping around it, until they seemed to reach a large enough size.

The largest of them, already feeling like it was about to burst.

Long and hard, twitching and throbbing, Casey didn’t care what it was, as the sensations coming from it were too much for her to bare!

”Oh god! Whatever that thing is, it feels like it gonna explode! Please, do something!” she begged.

The vines answered by rubbing it, the feelings almost pulsating from her crotch, Casey’s body shook as she moaned loudly, her head throwing itself back, reacting to the new feelings down there, as the vines also started to penetrate her ass again.

”It-it feels like lightning…exploding all over my body!”

As the vines kept rubbing it faster and faster, penetrating harder and harder, she could feel the sensations increase, higher and higher, faster and faster, until suddenly-

”Aahmngh!!” she moaned, feeling whatever that was welling up inside of her finally released themselves, as warm, thick liquid shot out of her and onto the vines, and dripped down onto her.

She hadn’t even begun collecting herself, when she felt the vines moving across her body, shuffling and flexing, wrapping tightly around her torso, and getting looser at her thighs and legs. Some of them didn’t even feel like vines anymore, most of them felt like…leaves? And a few twigs?

Afterwards, she felt the leaves release from her body, as they returned to the tree.

“Ack! Hack!” She gasped as she felt the vines leaving her mouth. She pushed her long, brown hair out of her eyes as the vines over her eyes lifted. “Hah, hah...wait cough, cough, is my hair…long again? And why is it- my voice? It sounds so weird now! What the fuck happened to me—oh, my god!!”

She looked down, as her eyes revealed to her her new body: She was wearing nothing but a almost skintight, shoulder-less, and sleeveless green dress, which was made up mostly of leaves and a few brown twigs, the lower parts being shades of a darker green, the edges of which shaped into cute triangles. A few pink and white flowers sprouted on the dress, too. Save for her nipples poking out of dress, her boobs were gone, her shoulders were slightly wider, her arms a little longer, and her hands were bigger. Complete with soft, pale skin, it replaced her fake tanned skin. Her curves smoothed out, and her butt was slightly bigger. And there was something, something hard and leaky poking out under her tight, green dress, between her soft, thick thighs-

“I’m…I’m a boy?? You…you turned me into a…a femboy??"

“This isn’t our doing. While we might have assisted in giving you this body, this is the body you wanted, is it not?”

“A-a mirror! Where the fuck did I put my mirror?!” She looked around for her backpack, but it was gone.

“You wanted to leave your old, filthy life behind, so we removed all of your material possessions that reminded you of it. But, if you want a ‘mirror’, we suppose we do have those here. Go to the nearest lake and see, yourself.”

After she ran to the lake, she bent over to see how much she had changed.

“My…my face…” she said as she touched her more androgynous face, its edges more defined.

She looked at the rest of her newly minted body, and blushed.

It had tiny freckles that danced across her nose and under her eyes. She saw how her nail polish now alternated between green and brown on each nail. She touched her hair, which was finally in its natural color again, brown, something that her mother never liked.

But he did.

Tears started welling up in his eyes.

“H-holy shit…I’ve never really considered being a boy, or any of this ever happening, but now I…think I can totally get used to this.” He smiled, wiping a tear from his face. “God this is…so weird, so confusing, but I also feel…amazing. Thank you, so much!”

“It pleases us that you enjoyed the changes. Now, the real work must be done.”

The animals - deer, birds, rabbits, raccoons, squirrels, butterflies, ants - all moved in around him. He stood back, scared that they might attack him.

“What, what’s happening now??”

“There is no need to fear. These are your fellow members in the animal kingdom. They are the ones you are going to protect.”

He looked at them, now seeing the little details he had never seen before. The way the ants moved together, they way the birds protected their nests, and the way the caterpillar hatched from its cocoon, turning into a butterfly.

That butterfly landed on his hand, softening his tense stance as he recognized himself in its transformation.

“Wow…you are all actually beautiful, in your own…weird way. Like, I-I’m still not completely sold on the dirt and the elements, but…maybe I was a little too quick to judge you guys.” He said, almost about to tear up again.

Casey turned to the tree once again, which seemed teleport wherever he went. He smiled and put his hands on his hips. “I think I’m definitely ready to be the protector of this forest. Now, where do we begin?”