#they come out of their hole once every eon

[tingyyytingsss]

I can see the fairy tail fandom has revived itself nicely.

[kyumisyumi]

HI!!! Love your work!!

Is it possible for you to write a fic where the monster is just too big for the reader but the monster is in rut or some sort of overbearing horniness so they coax the reader open to be able to take all of them

So sorry this took forever, life was life-ing. Job hunting and the works. Happy I could finally finish my first request here.

Warning: nsfw tags: heat, double penetration, fisting-ish, we're all just animals at the end of the day

Ship: Naga x Reader (F)

Word count: 800+ words

⊱⊶Taking requests⊷⊰

You were so good for him. Always so good; wet and soft and absolutely divine. He never mind that you couldn't take both of his cocks, just having one in you was enough to drive him damn near feral. His mind threatening to slip into an animalistic haze begging him to fuck you until every last drop of energy -and cum-  in him was gone. Now, however, things were different. The season's arrival brought with it the an aphrodisiac than burned inside his veins. The overwhelming need to breed you - and breed you proper- was pushing him beyond reason. Beyond thought even. His ears filled with the ringing of need and the only thing that could pierce it was the sweet sounds of your moans.

"Please." You didn't even know what you were begging for. For him to stop? For him to start? He'd been fucking you with his fingers for what felt like eons. His long, firm digits sliding in you effortlessly as their tips pressed against the spongy little spot that seemed to disconnect your brain. Your thighs and the plush sheets beneath were absolutely drenched in slick leaking out of your swollen cunt. You didn't even know how you got here; one moment you were tending to the houseplants that sat by the living room window, the next moment you were being pulled into a tight reptilian coil. One blink later; your clothes were gone and a long, forked tongue was tasting you.

You cursed as his fingers pulled wider and wider, finally letting in the fifth digit. Your back arched as he slowly pushed forward with his whole arm. You could feel your insides mold to the shape of his muscles. Did you just come? Your senses were absolutely fried from overstimulation. But the pulsing of your walls eventually caught up to you, bringing with it the jolts of pleasure that wracked your whole body. Pretty little tears began to spill from your eyes again as you searched for him through blurry vision. So weak and overwhelmed that you needed the visage of him for comfort. Your brain didn't care that he was the one causing it.

His eyes almost glowed as he peered down at you, the once thin slits of his pupils expanded, almost fully concealing the color. He looked mad. The pearly whites of his eyes tinted red along the edges. Bloodshot. He was lost. He looked as if he hadn't blinked in years, as if even the milliseconds it would take to close his lids were too long to not look at you.

"Are you ready for me, Love?" He spoke for the first time in ages. Voice raspy, dry, as though all moisture had been sucked from him. "Of course you are." He answered, with zero input from you, not that you could even muster words at this point. "So fucking perfect." He pulled his hand out of you. His eyes finally left you to look at the glistening moisture that covered it then at your thoroughly abused hole. His forked tongue absentmindedly licked your taste off his fingers. He began muttering to himself. Your concern for his sanity grew. You could barely hear his words; praises and coos for you. Thanking the Gods for bringing you to him. Making you for him.

When he raised himself on his tail you could see the leaking tips of his engorged members. Both of them pressing against his abdomen, twitching as though they were ready to spill seed at any moment. He positioned himself between your trembling thighs, one hand squeezing both cocks together. You'd yet to realize his intentions before you felt the dual tips slip into you. You opened your mouth to say something. What? Again, you weren't sure. But when he slowly began to push himself further and further inside you your vocal chords released a ferine moan.  You could feel your walls stretch to hold him, like a fulfilling pressure rather than the straining pain you'd expected. That scared you so much you never tried prior. He lowered himself over you, elbows bent on either side of your limp form. His eyes refocused, studying every minute movement of your face.

There was no patience in him, all of it spent. He'd bottomed out in you before you'd even realised it. His hips smashing against your pelvis with a loud groan. His chest pressed into yours with every breath. He'd give you a moment and only a moment before the thrusting began. You'd felt full before but it couldn't compare to what you feel now. The raw connection of having him inside you; not his fingers, not his tongue, not his hand but his manhood sheathed within you where it belonged. Nothing felt more right, it was both intoxicating and sobering. Pleasure would always be pleasure but this was something more.

You were reduced to cries and mewls as you both devolved into animals.

[blackknight-kai]

Hello there, greetings!💗💗

Sincerely hoping it doesn’t make you uncomfortable or anything of the sort, how would The Destined One and Wukong (separate) react to you asking to sit on their face?😏😏🙂‍↕️

P.s- only answer if you feel like it of course❣️

Hehehehehehehehehehe I like this question. I’ll do my best 🫶 I hope comes out okay!!!!

I feel like at their core Wukong and Destined One are the same. And what I mean by that is more so that they are unequivocally attracted to you and while they will react differently both would 100% LIVE to please the ever living fuck out of you if you asked them. They are hungry for you and your pleased sighs and sounds. While they may be focused on other things 90% of the time the moment you flip that switch you better be ready because that intense focus and drive they have for battle and questing/adventure etc? Yeah that’s gonna be on you.

(Gets spicy but not overly explicit so be warned, minors DNI!!!!)

Destined One

Regardless on if you just ask out of the blue or it’s during spicy time, I feel like he’d be surprised/flustered by your request. Not expecting such a bold question

His expression would go slack as your words caught up to him, his heart would be pounding and his blood would feel like its boiling with how HOT his body just got - I bet he shudders JUST a little, enough to send a slight ripple in his fur from the top of his head down to his toes.

He doesnt have a grand reaction outwardly but by the slow lazy swish of his tail starting to flick sharply behind him, you know he’s effected by your words

His surprise wouldn’t last long whatsoever, he’d regain composure, or well, his surprise would turn into laser focus. His expression now one of hot stoic intensity making you shiver at the volume of HEAT his eyes speak to you and the way his body tenses just like when hes readying himself for a fight

You’d hear one heavy breath leave him and hed give you one very pointed nod and then its game on

Moves VERY swiftly, you almost dont see him. One moment he’s a few feet away and with a blink he’s RIGHT THERE. Hot hands gripping your waist tightly

He will NOT waste time. Nope. You lit this fire youre going to have to let the flames lick you until it burns out - heh

He is STRONG so he’d absolutely manhandle you but he’d do it with gentle impatience.

If he’s REALLY impatient his claws might accidentally rip a little hole in your clothes and he’d give you an apologetic look but is he stopping? No.

As he lays on his back, your thighs on either side of his head, his face is set with intense determination, it would be kinda funny if he didn’t look so….hungry.

You can hear his tails thwacking the ground (or bed whatever) as it flicks to and fro. He is READY for this meal

He wont force you down on him, but his eyes will flick between your face and the naked heat between your legs, silently begging you to take your seat

His claws would flex, clenching and unclenching against your the skin of your hips as he holds you literally holding himself back from taking

His heavy breaths would make you shiver as you finally decide to give you both what you need

As you settle down over his eager mouth he groans, its heated and desperate like he’d been waiting eons to taste you

He’s going to make it so good for you

Might be a little sloppy at first in his eagerness but once he gets going damn does he focus on the places that feel the best for you

His eyes would never ever shut for more than a quick rare blink. He’d be watching your every move his gaze roaming over you from your blissed expression to your wet heat

His hands at first would grip just your waist but over time they’d slide to your thighs holding you to him as you twitch and grind against his mouth and expertly flicking tongue

He will not be stopping, by the way, his simian nostrils will flare as he breathes heavily but he’d rather suffocate then stop hearing your moans or tasting your pleasure

You’re gonna cum? Good. Do it. He’ll take it and more

Pride and possession would fill his chest as you shudder above him gushing over his tongue, HE made you do that.

He’s gonna make you do it again, adding his fingers this time for extra stimulation as he coaxes you to start moving your hips against his mouth again

At some point though hes probably going to push you on to your back as he continues eating you whole

He is in LOVE with tasting you and hasn’t had his fill yet

By the time he allows you a break your going to be a shivering panting filthy mess and the fur on his face soaked with your pleasure

He’d crawl up your body leaving wet kisses in his wake and while he expects NOTHING of you but to lie there and relax as he takes himself in hand, if you reach out to assist him he would needily groan a desperate sound in your ear as he buries his face against your neck

Wukong our fav monkey king!

This cocky little asshole.

He is an absolute menace and a tease on a good day as it is

You asking if you can sit on his face? Oh boy

Be ready for some bullshit as his face slowly morphs from pleasant surprise to a very large cocky as fuck smirk

He would definitely tease you, his body language relaxed as though hes unbothered, his words taunting as he tries to act as though your question didn’t stir something in him

His tail would lazily flick and swish but the growing heat in his eyes gives him away

Would make you say it again, just because it feeds his ego and he likes being a little shit. Plus, seeing you get impatient or flustered is his favorite pastime

You’d think he would be impulsive and jump your bones, but no. One of his worst traits after being alive so long is learning patience and self restraint in moments like these

Dont mistake his playful teasing nature though

He is FAMISHED the minute those words first left your sweet sweet mouth

Looking closely you’d notice the turbulent possessive heat in his eyes. He’s like a predator who has locked on to his prey

He wont make you wait long or push your buttons too much though, not wanting you to change your mind and prevent him from getting his meal

He’d lazily lie down for you to take your rightful place BUT from how taut his body is you can tell he’s eager and excited. Clearly holding himself back from just taking

A hum of contentment and interest would leave his throat as you settle yourself with your knees on either side of his head

Wukong would definitely lick his lips, his mouth watering in preparation for what is about to come

He is a tease so instead of getting to work or letting you just fall onto his face he would grip your hips preventing you from moving.

His strong hands would hold you in place effortlessly as his rubs his furry cheeks against your thighs enjoying the feel of your skin against his face as he smirks up at you knowing what you want but not ready to give it to you juuuuust yet

He’s mouthy and cheeky so expect him to not shut up as he teases you for how ready you are for him as his eyes roam over you

Filthy words would tumble out of his mouth just so he can watch as you get wetter with anticipation

Just to watch you squirm he might lean up and flick his tongue against you before laughing as your body twitches

If youre listening you can hear his tail thump against the ground (or bed whatever) displaying that although hes exercising new found patience right now, he truly is just as needy as you are.

Wanting to make you even more desperate he’d teasingly flick his tongue against you here and there, no pattern and as though he has no care.

Your thighs would be nipped and sucked too as he chuckles up at your pouting needy face

When he finally lets you take your throne he is like a monkey STARVED

He’s messy, not afraid to get in there, but his mouth works with purpose

He’d be groaning at your flavor as though you tasted just like an orgasmic sweet juicy peach that he loves so much

His hands would wonder stroking from your thighs up your hips to squeeze at your chest possessively as you move against his mouth and tongue

He’d growl low in his chest as you moan and sigh his name, his claws grazing your skin and plucking at your nipples as he makes it his one and only duty to make you reach your peak

A possessive groan comes out of him as he feels your thighs tremble knowing youre close

But at the last second he lifts your hips from his drenched furred face with a devilish smile, laughing as you give him the dirtiest look he’s ever seen

He’d coo at you teasingly before leaning up and kissing wetly from your thigh to your heat, sucking noisily as he goes. you shiver and goose bumps break out over your skin but he doesnt let you budge as he takes his time worshiping you

It’s when he guides you back down, expert fingers starting to join his tongue that youre given free rein to move as you please again

He keeps his heated focus your face, his eyes demanding that you dont look away from him as finally brings you to orgasm

Watching you come undone and moan his name sends ripples of pride and hunger through him. Possessiveness rears up inside him as he knows only HE can bring you this

He’d watch you intently and rub your thighs and stroke his hands up your body as you both breathe heavily for a moment trying to catch your breath

He wont let you rest long though, oh no.

He’s fired up now and its as though he MUST watch you fall apart over and over until HE is satisfied that hes proven his worth as your provider of pleasure and satisfaction

He is a KING and demands your pleasure and he will get it

Wukong would yank you back into place above his mouth and would get to work, this time with a fierce determination, one that makes your toes curl as his eyes bore into you

He’d ignore his own raging need (for now), unless you happen to take pity on him and reach back to slip your fingers under his clothes and stroke him to return the favor and attentions he’s bestowing on you

[evilminji]

God you know what would be FUNNY af? More "I already YOLO'd, fuckers. I see no God here but me an my new buddy The Force" SI-OC?

There's... there is the Fuckin FORCE NEXUS. Just? RIGHT THERE? Reality HAS to get unimaginably FUCKY and melty at the seams, around it? Horrific for people would HAVENT been through the Souls Car Wash as it were... but, like?

Eh. Tingly.

Feels a bit like being dead. She can taste the abstract concept of philosophical debate and the first strands of dawn. Air smells a bit purple. This is fiiiine. She and the Force are HANGING! You LITERALLY could not be closer to it outside of shrugging off your meat suit!

Aaaaay, BESTIE! She brought better meditation cushions and a swiffer. It is DUSTY down here! So~ how things? Any dead people wanna chat? Wanna watch a sunrise on a planet that stopped existing eons ago, literal galaxies away? Oh hey! Thanks for the space rock. It blurbles ominously.

Just? Yes. TECHNICALLY. "All things are possible in the Force".

But just because a NUCLEAR REACTION IS POSSIBLE? Doesn't mean it's a great idea to SIT NEXT TO IT. Child! P-Please! Back away from the thing we LITERALLY BUILT A TEMPLE TO CONTAIN.

ALL absolutes are harmful.

Yes. Even "good", even "helpful", even the "light". They as JEDI know this. Unlike SITH, they? Are not so foolish as to believe ANYONE can channel or harness a NEXUS. Absolute GOOD will kill you just as surely as Absolute evil. Do not loose yourself. And for the love of all that's precious?

Don't! Poke! Force! Anomalies!!!

Again... meh. What's the worst that'll happen? She DIES? Is LOST? Oh noooo. Not RETURNING to the Force! AGAIN! Peacefully avoiding the horrors to come! That would be AWFUL! *continues to gossip with the nexus*

Of course, this? This is fucking horrifying.

That is a youngling! Next to the ACTIVE FORCE NUKE.

Dear FUCK every moment the child sits there? It could be SCRAMBLING HER DNA for FUNSIES! But it ALSO feels like hundreds of jet engines in their head! T-they can't?! Get close enough? To grab her? Hold ON small breakable child! Help is COMING!

SOME ONE GET THE COUNCIL. NOW.

No we DO NOT care what they were doing! Baby! IN DANGER! This is clearly a priority! (And I mean? Shit... you right. They'll be there in 5)

Force maybe be "clouded"? But a cloud, dense enough? Is just a body of water suspended. And the NEXUS? Is like SWIMMING. A flood. The Force COULD NOT be clearer there. It's deafening, consuming, one might even say... less then subtle.

Yoda probably does the OPPOSITE of something helpful and just... plops on down next to her. Accepts the offered snack she holds out. Asks casually why she down here. Just two bros, a Grandmaster and Crecheling, two completely equal Jedi in the eyes of the Force, sitting watching the Pretty Colors at the edge of a reverse Black Hole.

Master Yoda, NO!

What? Did they expect him to use force? By the ear, drag this youngling, perhaps? Hmmm? How would that fix anything. The child would simply return. Stopping her ONCE will not address your concerns. There must be a dialog. You must be heard. Your fears laid to rest. The youngling must UNDERSTAND. Teachable moment!

The various knights, masters, CRECHE MASTERS and Council members? Do? NOT AGREE. Ha ha. Oh Force. Baby in a radioactive, currently inactive, meat grinder! Heart palpitations! Can't EVEN RELEASE THEIR FEAR INTO THE FORCE! Because it'll JUST SPIT RIGHT BACK INTO THEIR FACE.

.....OC would like these people to stop crashing her hangout. But is refusing to STOP her hang out, now, mostly out of spite. Well... that, AND? It's actually pretty great that most of the Order? Is getting LITERALLY FORCE BASTED CLEAN?

Like getting your soul pressure washed.

BEGONE Darksider gunk!

Does it leave you feeling a lil woozy and hyper-aware? Overly sensitive? Headache-y like a motherfucker? Yeah. But that's the crude matter, my gender non specific dudes. The Nexus has always been more of a "oh shit! We're losing um! CLEAR!" Sort of measure, then a "you should take this rigorous round of medicine and then meditate" Sort of measure.

Not that it's WISE. It's just as likely to eat folks. Just... straight skip the suffering their redemption arch might cause others and? Yoink! Straight back to the Force with you. After all? Other people are not here for YOUR life lessons. Their pain is not a gift to YOU. A debt YOU are owed.

Speaking of? Someone should check on Skywalker. He's looking a little shaken back there. (The Void was BRIGHT and it looked BACK. He is... NOT OKAY) (but also? Feels cleaner? Lighter? He thinks he just met his Dad. Spoke to his Mom.)

Obviously? Hella grounded. UNBELIEVABLY grounded. The entire temple is down and out with the worse case of Force Strain anyone can REMEMBER. The senate will have to send someone else.

......what do you MEAN you have "no one else"? They distinctly remember there being other offices. They are a religious organization. Not nearly as large as they once were. You are THE GOVERMENT. When a planet, in need, requests assistance? Why are you handing it to an EXTERNAL RELIGIOUS ORGANIZATION?

Yes, OF COURSE we want to help! But unfortunately we literally CAN NOT right now! There was an INCIDENT! Are you telling us that this whole system was one cold away from COLLAPSE?! (Local eavesdropping reporters go :3c owo? Whats this? Paycheck~☆???)

And, yes. Yes it WAS. Centuries of Sith meddling and common greed. Cut the funds to line my pockets! The Jedi will handle it. They Jedi ALWAYS handle it. If they can't, we'll just blame them. They show up first. Sometimes are the only ones to show up. Are a face for people to latch on too. Someone recognizable to get angry at, in our hurt.

But.... suddenly? Not there! And they're telling us? The NEXT step? In their Very Worried For Us, Full Of Genuine Sympathy And Concern Way? Is the Goverment. Specific offices. Makes sense. They even try to help, while looking like death warmed over. No, no! We get you can't come. Go rest! People need you!

No, they keep insisting. I can HELP! Please let me help! You're suffering. This isn't RIGHT. You don't deserve this! Are you safe? Is your family okay? I can talk to some people I know... maybe?

Then you turn around? And get automated rejection after rejection from the GOVERMENT YOU SERVE. Pay your taxes too. Bleed for. As your people are DYING. Afraid. Begging for help, that? APPARENTLY the senate is too busy throwing GALAS to send!

The Jedi is actually crying on the other line. Arguing with a healer off screen that they don't faint THAT much! They can take a pilot droid! Your people NEED HELP! Please! They have to do SOMETHING! They can't just SIT THERE! Please don't make them sit there!

The healer is telling them if they don't bring their heart rate down, they may pass out again. Breathe. Give them the comm.

You watch the Jedi literally fight to keep it. Lose, too dizzy to win.

The healer looks sympathetic but resolute. Your people's doctors are much the same. Your SISTER-IN-LAW much the same. You ask that he not be allowed to contact you until he is well. You are not incompetent, after all. Your people will survive.

The Force is with you... but the Senate is not.

This? You will REMEMBER.

Discontent grows. But NOT, as Palpatine was trying to cultivate it, towards the Jedi. They? Are in crisis. Still holding strong, yes, but clearly DEALING with something. Some... weird... mystic cult illness. It's literally BAD enough that "Force Sensitive" (you know, the kinda creepy weirdos?) cultures and peoples are offering to send various doctor equivalents!

And the Jedi! The JEDI!!!? Infamously "oh, it's only a gushing flesh wound, I'm fiiiine!" Weirdo Space Monks? Yeah, they're saying YES. Please DO, actually. Admitting to NEEDING HELP.

...........guys?

A-Are the Jedi DYING? D:>

Suddenly everyone's remembering all those times? Jedi helped THEIR planet. Possibly DIED for them. Statistically? Over the centuries? There is not a SINGLE ONE of them that hasn't needed help at LEAST once. Gotten SOME Jedi's help. Maybe it was centuries back. Maybe decades. Possibly last year. But? The Holonet is FOREVER.

Videos still exsist. Voices long dead. Wry jokes and hoisting younglings up on their shoulders. Attentively listening to elders as they talk about their youth. Protection and respect. A face not so different from their own. Laughter and light, preserved forever.

The Jedi are in family holos.

Here, with grandma. See? He saved her from slavers! And there. Sitting with the family after The Great Collapse. Over here, rocking great-uncle Nox as a baby! On and on. Flooding the net. Private collections no one thought were relevant until now. It's not like anyone ASKED. It was JUST a FAMILY story.

Those little acts of kindness. Those humanizing bits of light. Jedi, throughout our history. Everywhere. Absolutely everwhere... until they weren't.

Until... slowly... they started to fade.

People, making timeliness, making collections? Notice. Huh. Look at that decline. Is that just them? Are they seeing things? Guys! Tell me what you see....

All while OC? Is sitting by the Nexus. Breathing in some NICE tea steam, in her comfy lil meditation nook, smacking the FUCK out of Palpatine's grasping lil claws as it reaches for the Nexus. BEGONE you malicious THOT! This is a benevolent thot only space! That's why Master's Vox and Kenobi can stay. (Ha!/CHILD!?!)

OC works as a legit filter.

The Nexus? Spews, by its nature, the Force in CONCENTRATED amounts, out into the universe. Like a high pressure water spout. Feeding into a lake. There are drains. People use it, move it, muddy the waters. But the NEXUS? Is where the unfiltered stuff comes back through, after it's been recycled.

Part of the endless loop. There are, of course, many Nexus. The Universe is large. One Nexus alone would never be able to cover it all. But Coruscant? The surrounding area? That's THIS Nexus. And Palpatine wants it BAD.

Because EVERYONE is part of the Force. Sensitive or not. ALL LIVING THINGS have midi-chlorians. They're just generally drawn to sentience. Are the universe in symbiosis with itself. Being near a Nexus tend to make them vibrate. Start to multiple. Not great for the body they're IN. Fascinating though.

......wait, where was she.... >.> oh! Right!

Whole ecumenopolis? Already has a LOT of suffering. Lot of stagnant pools of Darksider rot. The senate isn't helping. But? The Nexus IS helping. By blasting clean, fresh, hope and NEW! Through the heart of it all. Anyone who wanders close enough to the Temple? Gets cleaned off.

Feels hope. Sees a brighter future worth fighting for. Gets that much needed nudge from the Force, towards a better path.

Obviously, Palpatine hates that. Wants to flip it. To bad decisions and hopelessness. Bow your head and know your place. Well? FUCK 'IM. She's the guard of the Nexus. SHE'S sitting right in from of it! He may have fucked up rituals? But SHE can literally reach her arm out, INTO IT, and drag the darkness free.

Talk to Master's through time. The Force directly. Be a concept and a bird, right angles and starlight, here and then and The Force.

What are YOU, Sheev Palpatine? But a miserably hateful little creature.

A vile, angry little man.

The Jedi? Have probably already adjusted by now. Master Fae, Master Antilles, Youngling OC. Yeah... it be like that sometimes. You get Weird Jedi every so often. Just look at Yoda and Yaddle. The various wandering Jedi. That one guy they're preeeeeety sure? Might just be? Meditating out in a swamp somewhere? He might be dead. No one's sure. Still a jedi, though!

Look, you get like... 99 put of 100 vaguely normal Jedi to one Weird one, and 1 REALLY weird one out every... no one can actually agree? Inconclusive. Have a fruit bun. Nod and smile. The Force works in mysterious ways....

And SPEAKING of "we are a wrecking ball in a rice paper world" Master Fae/Antilles duo? Very sensitive to the Force. Go where it sends them. Did.... NOT expect to get a holocall? By means of FORCE NEXUS?? From an ACTUAL YOUNGLING?

.....ngl. this one's new.

Kamino it is.

(OC wants to make Palpatine CRY. Fight me, you FUCK, says the actual child. No one knows why this Jedi child hates the Naboolian senator specifically, but it... is REALLY effecting his Affable Grandfatherly Vibes.)

(Fucking GOOD.)

[scary-grace]

For the milestone thingy with shigaraki, 24 and 28!

Thank you so much for the prompt! I went a little crazy with this one, and I hope you like it! If anyone else wants to prompt me from this list for a Shigaraki fic, please feel free.

When a child from your settlement goes missing, you go willingly into the woods to rescue him from the entity that dwells there. You're not at all prepared for what you find. Based on the tale of Tam Lin. 7.1k words, afab reader, warnings for dubcon + smut. Prompts: 'whispering in their ear, lips touching the skin' +'feeling for each other in the dark'

Izuku’s been missing since noon, and you and the others are out of places to look. You’ve searched high and low, crawled into every closet and tight corner, and checked every building, outbuilding, and hole in the ground. You even risked the radio, calling to the next settlement fifty kilometers away, on a wild hope that someone had found him and taken him to the wrong place. You’ve asked everyone if they’ve seen him, and got the same answer – not since noon. Now the sun is setting, and you’re out of ideas. Except one.

You’re the one who raises it, because no one else will. “What if he went to the woods?”

“Why would he do that?” Yue looks at you like you’ve lost your mind. “He knows better. They all know better.”

“Something could have enchanted him,” you argue. “We have to think of everything –”

“Nothing that’s supposed to stay in the woods ever comes out of it,” Rumi says. “That’s why we’re here instead of somewhere else.”

So much of the world is haunted now. You and the others are old enough to remember the way it was before, but the little kids have never known anything different. Fear of the woods isn’t learned for them, it’s instinctual. It’s hard to imagine that a kid like Izuku, a kid who follows the rules to a fault, a kid who’s always eager to please, would do something like this. But if there’s anything you know about the world as it is now, it’s that you can’t trust the rules to stay the same. Soon enough, they bend and warp, and there’s enough space between them for Hell itself to slip through.

Some say the creatures that claimed half the world seven years ago are demons, drawn up by humanity’s sins. Others think they’re aliens who’ve been watching Earth for eons, choosing to step in now for reasons incomprehensible to anyone but themselves. It’s easier to believe those things than the truth: They’re the Fair Folk, creatures of myths and fairytales the world over, who burst from hiding all at once and forced humanity to the brink in a seven-day war. Seven days. To you it shifted overnight.

Millions were lost. Any space where nature had been left to flourish became a stronghold for the Folk – forests, beaches, streams, mountains, fields, lakes. Deserts. Oceans. City parks. What the Folk couldn’t overrun, they destroyed; what they couldn’t destroy, they transformed. Even iron can’t protect against them, when there are enough of them, and they targeted the cities and towns first. That’s why you and the others were sent away. The Folk’s armies are merciless. The Folk who took up residence in the wild places are – less.

There are no truly safe places, but the settlement is as close as it gets – a cluster of buildings in the midst of a square mile blasted clean of anything wild, on the edge of a forest whose fey inhabitant never ventures out. As long as you don’t go into the woods, look at the woods, think about the woods for too long, you’re safe from him.

Or you thought you were. Fuyumi’s coming around to your way of thinking. “If Izuku’s in there, we have to go get him.”

“Are you crazy?” Natsuo crosses his arms over his chest, shakes his head. “I love that kid as much as any of us do, but if we go in there, we’re dead. That thing in there wants us more than it’ll ever want him.”

Manami wraps her arms tightly around herself, shivering. “Maybe we should call the grown-ups.”

“No,” you and everyone else says at once. Rumi keeps talking. “The radio’s too risky. The Folk can distort it. And we can’t distract them. What they’re doing is too important.”

“Besides,” Yue mumbles, “they left us in charge. We’re the grown-ups now.”

The military was decimated in the first round of fighting. Now the military, such as it is, consists of every able-bodied adult, no matter who they were before. Every able-bodied adult includes the parents of every single kid in the settlement, but someone has to take care of the kids during the three-quarters of the year where the adults are away. The older kids got the job, because in spite of the fact that all of you are old enough to vote and all of you could theoretically fight, you still count as underage in the eyes of the law. That makes you children to the Fair Folk. The Fair Folk love human children too much.

“We can’t call the adults. We looked everywhere. We can’t go to the woods,” Fuyumi says. “What are we supposed to do?”

“We don’t have proof he went to the woods,” Keigo says, speaking up for the first time. “Nobody goes in unless there’s proof.”

“How are we supposed to get proof?” Yue asks. “We already asked everyone.”

“Let’s ask again,” you say. “And let’s hurry. Whatever we do, we have to do it before dark.”

You and the others split up. Natsuo and Rumi go to quiz the oldest kids, while Fuyumi and Manami and Yue go to talk to the middle-graders. Keigo aims for the youngest kids; you go to the ones who would be in primary school if the world hadn’t ended. It’s Izuku’s age group. Even though he’s not popular, they’re more likely than anyone else to know where he is.

You asked them already, but this time, you’ve got specifics. “I know you don’t know where he went,” you say to them, once you’ve herded all of them into a corner to talk to. “I want to know what he’s been like over the past few days. Has he said anything about the woods?”

The reaction among the kids is instant, and it strikes fear and guilt into you like you’ve never felt before. “What did he say?” you ask. Head-shakes all around. “I need you to tell me. Izuku might be in big trouble. We can’t do anything to help him if we don’t know what happened.”

More head-shaking, from all the kids but one. Katsuki’s looking away from you, his arms crossed over his chest, his jaw set. Of all the kids, Katsuki’s the one who likes Izuku the least, who picks on him the most. You and the others try to stop him, but you can’t be there every second. “Katsuki,” you say. He looks quickly at you, then looks away again. “What did Izuku say to you about the woods?”

“Deku’s a coward. He wouldn’t do it. I just said I’d stop if he –” Katsuki’s voice wavers. “I didn’t think he’d really go.”

You feel sick to your stomach. “Did you dare him to go into the woods?”

“And bring something back,” Katsuki says. “To prove it.”

It all comes together in your head, an awful picture you can’t look away from. What Izuku wants more than anything is to belong with the other kids, to have friends, and Katsuki’s the one who won’t let it happen. Promises hold more weight in this world than they used to. If he promised to leave Izuku alone, Izuku had good reason to trust it. But he dared Izuku to break two rules at once, two rules that are guaranteed to seal Izuku’s fate. Humans don’t trespass on the Folk’s territory without consequences. And they definitely don’t steal from them.

But you know where Izuku is for sure. Now there’s something you can do. “Stay here,” you order the kids, and you run to find the others.

“No,” Yue says, even before you’ve finished explaining. “We still can’t go in there.”

“We have to,” you say. “He’s just a kid –”

“So he’ll be safe,” Natsuo says. You stare at him. “If the stories are anything to go by, that thing’s not interested in kids. But you can bet he’d be interested in us.”

“The stories also say he can be bargained with,” you say. It gets quiet. “There’s no story about Tam Lin where he doesn’t let you make a deal.”

Part of the reason the settlement is here is that Tam Lin doesn’t leave the woods. The other part, never said but known all the same, is that unlike the other monsters from folklore, an encounter with Tam Lin doesn’t lead to death. You can walk away alive, so long as you and he come to an agreement. “No,” Keigo says. “Nothing ever goes well bargaining with the Folk. Especially not at night.”

“So you’d go in the morning?”

“I’d go in the morning,” Rumi says. “We could all go – or most of us, since somebody has to keep an eye on the kids –”

“What if he doesn’t have until morning?” you ask. It gets quiet again. “Time runs differently in their territory. We only know how long he’s been gone out here.”

“That’s just a rumor,” Natsuo says. “I say we go, some of us. In the morning.”

It’s a solid plan. You’d probably agree with it if there wasn’t this awful feeling in the pit of your stomach, the one that says Izuku has less time than you think, the one that says waiting until morning is waiting too long. There’s fear, and at the same time, there’s guilt. Guilt when you imagine Inko, Izuku’s mom, coming back from eight months of war to find her son gone. And even if it wasn’t for Inko, you know what kind of kid Izuku is. You know that if someone was in trouble, he’d run to help them, no matter how dangerous it was. You owe him the same.

“You can do what you want,” you say to the others. “I’m going now.”

“Are you crazy? You can’t just –”

“I know the stories. I know the rules. And I’ve still got things –” You touch the necklace your mother gave you before she died, the bracelet from your grandmother around your wrist. The idea of letting them go makes your heart ache, but for another person’s life, it’s not a question whether you’ll make the deal. “I still have things to trade. I can’t live with myself if I don’t go now.”

“You want to go get snatched by a faery? Fine.” Natsuo turns away, his jaw clenched. “My dad and my brother both tried this shit. You know how it went for them.”

“They didn’t try it with him,” you say. Natsuo walks away, and you face the others, forcing a smile onto your face. You hope you look brave. “Take care of the others. If I’m not back by nightfall, I’ll be back by morning. And so will Izuku.”

Promises made carry more weight in the world now. You take it as a good sign that you’re able to get the words out of your mouth without choking on them.

Crossing the border into the woods feels like entering another world. The Folk’s magic is so thick in the air that it’s hard to breathe, and you stumble against a tree before you’ve taken more than a dozen steps, your head swimming. You’ve never felt their magic like this except once before, and you do what you did then; small, paced breaths, taking sips of the air rather than gulping it down. Your lungs will adjust if you give them time, and once the knot in your chest loosens, you straighten up again. There’s a path before you, almost certainly a trap. Is it still a trap if you go into it purposely?

It doesn’t matter if it’s a trap or not – it’s Tam Lin’s trap, and you want to find him. You step onto the path and follow it into the trees.

Each step seems to take you centimeters forward at most, and at the same time, you can feel time passing in a way that’s not quite normal. It skips and starts and pauses, and panic begins to well up inside you as you feel yourself getting tired. On either side of the path are logs covered in soft, pillowy moss, hollows at the base of trees that would be perfect to curl up in, all inviting you to stop and rest. You ignore them, the same as you ignore the shimmering flowers a few meters off to the side, the same as you ignore the deer that follows along beside you close enough to pet. They’re all tricks made to stop you. You won’t stop until you find Izuku. And you won’t find Izuku until you reach Tam Lin.

The path terminates in a clearing, and you nearly stumble into it before you catch yourself. Instantly you know you’ve found the right place. The glade is covered with roses, a few of them white but most of them red, and Izuku sits amongst them, bound hand and foot in thorny vines. You call out to him, remembering only at the last minute not to use his name, and he looks towards you. There’s panic on his face. “Run,” he says. “This is his place. He’s here. If you take another step –”

You look more closely at Izuku. He looks terrible, dehydrated and exhausted, and worse than all of that, he looks thinner. Like he’s lost weight. Like he’s been here much longer than half a day. There’s a white rose clenched in his hand, bound there purposely by the vines. He’s made both mistakes outlined in the stories – trespassed in Tam Lin’s territory, and plucked a flower. Tam Lin has him. You wonder if he’s offered Izuku a bargain, and if he has, why Izuku didn’t take it. “Have you seen him?”

“He won’t show himself, but I know it’s him.” Izuku is crying now. “Please just go. This is all my fault. I don’t want anybody else to get hurt.”

“It’s too late for that.” A voice rasps out from between the trees on the far side of the glade. You see a pale figure there, just out of clear sight. “Listen to the boy. Run while you have the chance.”

So Tam Lin can entrap only one person at a time. You think through the rules of bargaining with the Folk, slowly and carefully, knowing that a mistake will cost Izuku everything. Tam Lin must have offered him a bargain. He must have refused it. And if he’s still here, it means that Tam Lin offers only one chance. It means you’ll get only one chance, and it’s the only choice you have if you want to save Izuku.

It’s not a choice at all. You take a deep breath, shaky enough to rattle your entire body, and step forward into the clearing, ignoring Izuku when he protests, noting the way the shadow in the trees startles. You bend down and grasp a red rose, snapping it free of its vine. “I’ll make you a deal, Tam Lin,” you say. “Let the boy leave the woods alive, safe, and whole, and I’ll take his place.”

Izuku protests again, or tries to. A vine wraps around the lower half of his face, clamping his jaw shut, as Tam Lin steps from the shadows at last. He looks nothing like the Folk are meant to, beautiful and healthy and whole – instead he’s gaunt and deathly pale, his skin dry and ashen and laced with scars. His clothing is ragged, and his hair, even paler than his skin, hangs lank and tangled around his face. His face is scarred, too. His eyes are bloodred.

You catch your breath in horror at the sight of him. He scoffs. “If you dare to offer that bargain again, it’s yours,” he says. “But I don’t think you will.”

“You think the way you look will make me forget why I’m here?” You let out a scoff of your own. “Let the boy leave the woods alive, safe, and whole, and I’ll take his place to bargain with you.”

Tam Lin’s lips are dry and cracked. When they curve into a smile, blood spills from them, dripping from the corner of his mouth to stain the collar of his tattered shirt. “Done.”

The vines unwrap from around Izuku, and you turn towards him, clamping your hand down over his mouth before he can say anything that will put him in Tam Lin’s clutches again. “Go home,” you order. Izuku’s eyes are welling up again. He shakes his head. “I know what I’m doing. I made your bargain, not my own just yet. Promise me you’ll go home now.”

If he promises you here, he won’t be able to break it. You lift your hand away from his mouth. “I promise,” Izuku whispers, and you breathe a sigh of relief.

The vines slip away from him at last, and with them, Izuku moves to drop the white rose. You fold his fingers around it. “Keep it,” you say. “Show Katsuki. Make him keep his promise, too.”

Izuku nods. “Go now,” Tam Lin rasps from behind you, as you help Izuku to his feet and turn him in the direction of the path. “Not that way. Here.”

He points to a gap between the trees, one that travels straight and true. At the far end of it, you can see the light of the setting sun. Izuku stumbles towards it, then steps between the trees, takes a single step – and vanishes. At least, that’s what it looks like from your angle. When you race through the vines to peer into the gap yourself, you see a small figure, dwindling rapidly, disappear into the light.

“You think I’d break my word?” Tam Lin’s come up behind you without warning. He speaks with his lips pressed against your ear. His breath is cold, and you freeze in terror. “Remember, I can’t lie. Unlike you.”

“What makes you think I lied?” You step forward, away from him, turning so you’re face to face. “If my bargain for his life wasn’t true, you wouldn’t have accepted it.”

“That’s right, but you didn’t lie to me,” Tam Lin says. “You lied to the boy, when you told him you had another bargain to make. You knew it was a lie when you said it.”

“I knew,” you admit.

“Then why?”

“So he’d leave without trying to help me.”

“Is that all?” Tam Lin tilts his head, studying you. “I think you lied so he wouldn’t think about the bargain you truly made.”

“That, too.” There’s no point in lying about this. You sealed your fate the moment you pulled the red rose. You let it fall from your hand to rest among the vines. “I don’t want him to think about what you’re going to do to me.”

“You offered yourself to me,” Tam Lin says – snaps, almost. “I gave you the chance to leave. You refused.”

“Yes.” You knew what you were offering, and he knew when he accepted. Why is he still talking? “Let’s get this over with.”

You have the brief satisfaction of seeing Tam Lin’s jaw drop. “Get this over with?”

“Don’t be dense,” you say. You made your deal with him. What else can he do to you? “When someone trespasses and steals from you, you take their virtue or the most valuable thing they have to offer. I made my bargain already, so I don’t get to choose. I don’t want to stand here waiting all night. Let’s get this over with.”

Tam Lin is staring at you like you’ve gone insane. The magic permeating every centimeter of the woods must be making you insane, because you’re standing here in a faery’s haunt, telling a faery to hurry up and – you can’t even finish the thought. Maybe you won’t need to finish the thought if you take control. “Well?”

Tam Lin looks away from you. “Take off your clothes.”

You think about it for a moment, then decide against it. You’re out of choices when it comes to this, except for how it goes, and you don’t want it to go like this. It must not be what Tam Lin wants, either – he’s still looking away, visibly uncomfortable. You cross the space between the two of you, reach up, and turn his head back to face you. He startles when you touch him. His skin is cold. So are his lips, when you rise on your toes to kiss them.

Tam Lin stays frozen, maybe in shock, maybe in disgust. When you draw back, you can read nothing on his face. Maybe this isn’t how the people whose virtue he steals usually react. You kiss him again, and he doesn’t stop you, but he doesn’t respond. You haven’t done a lot of kissing, but you think the person you’re kissing is supposed to do something back. “Do faeries not believe in kissing?”

“I’m not a faery.”

He expects you to believe that, when he has faery magic, when he lives in the middle of a haunted forest, when he’s bound by the same rules that bind them. “Then what are you, Tam Lin?”

“I’m not a faery,” he says again, and you remember, suddenly, that he told you he can’t lie. His hands rise to grasp your waist. They’re thin and bony, almost skeletal, and cold just like the rest of him. “And my name’s not Tam Lin.”

“Oh.” You can’t manage much more of a response than that. “What do I call you, then?”

Not-Tam Lin, not-a-faery, leans in close, presses his lips to your ear again. “Tomura.”

You start to repeat it, to make sure you’ve heard it right, and Tam Lin – Tomura – covers your mouth with his hand. “Not out loud,” he says. Then why did he want you to know it? You kiss the palm of his hand and he flinches. “What are you doing? I told you to take off your clothes.”

“I have to at some point.” Your stomach clenches with discomfort at the thought of exposing yourself here, exposing yourself to him. “But you were right, before. I offered myself willingly. I should act like it.”

Tomura still looks confused. He looks frustrated when he’s confused, or else he’s confused when he’s frustrated, and either way, the whole virtue-stealing thing is taking too long. Your resolve could break at any second, and then this will be awful and painful and terrifying instead of simply awful, simply awkward. You’d rather he acted while you could both still convince yourselves that you want this. You watch Tomura’s expression shift, see the moment when he comes to the same conclusion. This time, when you lean in to kiss him, he kisses you back.

Cold. His kisses are ice-cold and unrelenting, even as his lips split against yours and blood spills between you. You lick it away on instinct and his grip on you tightens, and worse when you swipe your tongue across his lower lip again. Tomura’s lips part at once, and although you’ve done nothing more than read about this in a book, you lock your mouth against his. He’s so cold. But when your hand slips to rest against the side of his neck, you can put your fingers against his pulse. Whatever else Tomura may be, he’s alive.

The thought comforts you ever so slightly, but whatever peace or comfort you feel evaporates when Tomura’s grip on you shifts. He lifts you off your feet with a strength you wouldn’t have imagined he possessed and lays you down amongst the thorns. Amongst a spot that’s clear of them. You can see the vines retreating out of the corner of your eye a moment before Tomura pins you down. His mouth crashes against yours, and the way he’s stretched out on top of you forces you to part your legs, just enough that one of his can fit between them.

You chose for this to happen. You offered yourself willingly, and still you squirm to get free. Tomura shifts his weight so he’s no longer pinning you quite so heavily, but one of his hands slips beneath your shirt, pulling one cup of your bra down to clear his way to your breast. “Hey,” you protest. “What are you doing?”

Tomura doesn’t answer. He seems fascinated, too fascinated to even kiss you, as he cups your breast in one hand, gives an almost experimental squeeze. Your nipples harden, more from the cold than anything else, but of course he notices. He pinches it lightly, and your body jerks. An unfamiliar sensation runs quickly through you. “Hey,” you protest again, softer this time. “I thought you just were supposed to take my virtue.”

“I want everything.” Tomura’s leg presses harder between yours as he pinches your nipple again, tugs at it for a moment before circling it with the rough pad of his thumb. Your body jerks a second time, forcing your hips up to grind against his leg. “You’re warm –”

Warm, bordering on hot, and the way he’s yanked your bra aside is uncomfortable. You shove lightly at his shoulders as he wrestles with the other cup. You shove weakly at his shoulders, and he gives you an annoyed look. “Let me sit up,” you say. “I need to take it off.”

Tomura lets you up just long enough for you to take it off and pull it out from under your shirt, but as soon as it’s gone, he pushes you back down again. This time his mouth finds yours as he plays with your breasts, and when you squirm against the sensation running through you, there’s nowhere for you to go. If your back isn’t arching into his touch, your hips are rolling against his leg, your motions growing more urgent as he toys with you. He has to stop. He has to stop, or he’s going to –

“Tomura,” you gasp against his mouth, and you feel him shudder. So that is his name. So you do have something, after all. “Tomura, please –”

He stops, which is what you wanted – and at the same time, it’s not what you wanted at all. He sits up, draws back, and before you can protest, he’s tugging at the waistband of your pants. You start to sit up, but he pushes you back. “I need to take off my shoes,” you say. He gives you a skeptical look. “I said I’d take my clothes off.”

“I want to do it.” Tomura pushes you back onto your elbows, then pries your shoes off your feet, along with your socks. Then he’s back to your pants, pulling them down along with your underwear and casting them aside. “I told you. I want everything.”

He’s still fully dressed, but his shirt’s in tatters, barely concealing anything. You thought he’d undress more, but he’s already pushing your legs apart, sinking down between them. Too far. By the time it occurs to you what Tomura’s doing, his mouth is between your legs, his tongue cold in contrast to your heat. His fingers are the same, when two of them slip easily inside you. Your legs are shaking from a few laps of his tongue against your clit. Your body tenses, forcing a sharp gasp out of your mouth. You feel exposed to an awful degree, horrified at how helpless you must look, how helpless you are – and at the same time, the sensation of his touch feels so much better than anything you’ve felt before.

You sit up on your elbows, but your face goes up in flames at the sight of him between your legs, and you fall back, staring up at the sky instead. Even then, you can’t shake the image of him with his eyes shut, face buried between your legs, completely lost in you. You can’t fail to hear the harshness of his breathing, the sound he makes when you clench tight around his fingers and come so hard your eyes go blurry. Even if you could, it would be impossible to miss the fact that he keeps licking you even as your body goes limp, that it takes you shoving at his shoulder to make him pull away – and even when he does, he’s reluctant in a way that makes you cringe with embarrassment.

Tomura sits back, and you sit up. When you make eye contact, you see that his eyes are dilated, and that his pupils are round rather than vertical. He wasn’t lying. He’s not a faery, but the way he’s looking at you means you can’t look at him for long. You look away. He catches the hem of your shirt and peels it off, and you do the same before unbuttoning his pants and pulling them down. You don’t know the first thing about cocks, but you’d have to be an idiot to miss that his is hard already.

You reach out for him and he pushes your hands away, shaking his head. “Don’t. I can’t if you –”

If you touch him? You’ve barely touched him. Why does he look like he’s about to come already? You lie back and Tomura follows you down, knocking your legs apart and lying down between them. This is what you were steeling yourself for, an eternity ago when you told him to get on with it, what you planned to grit your teeth and bear through. But Tomura sinks into you easily. Your legs shake where they’re hooked over his hips, but that’s nothing new. Tomura, with his gritted teeth and flushed face, looks like he’s having a harder time with it than you are.

You wrap your arms around his neck on his first unsteady thrust, pulling him down for a kiss that tastes the way you must. You don’t know how you feel about that. You kiss his neck instead, then his jaw just below his ear, and Tomura moans. You know how you feel about that – heat rushes through you, and you kiss him again. He’s almost frantic in the way he fucks you, no control, all need. Almost like – the thought’s absurd – almost like it’s his first time, not just yours.

You know you won’t come a second time. That doesn’t mean it doesn’t feel good to have him like this, to be the reason why he’s desperate, why he’s panting for breath, why some trace of warmth has returned to his icy skin. There’s no way you can touch him that won’t unbalance him somehow, no matter how light or gentle you are. When you cradle his face in one hand, run your thumb over a scar on his lips, he leans into your palm for a split second before seizing your wrist and pulling your hand away.

But he doesn’t let go of your hand. You pull your wrist free, then lace your fingers with his, and you see his eyes go wide. “Tomura,” you say, and he looks at you.

You have no idea what you look like, and no idea what to say next, but it doesn’t matter. He shudders, curses, his grip on your hand tightening to the point of pain as he comes. His grip doesn’t loosen, not even when he pulls out and slumps against you. The fact that he’s still holding your hand is the only proof you have that he’s not completely unconscious.

Even though he’s warmer than he was before, you’re still cold. And naked. And lying on the ground. You start trying to escape, and you get as far away as sitting up and reaching for the nearest item of your clothing before a not-quite-so-cold hand closes around your wrist. “No.”

“I held up my end of the deal,” you say. “You can’t keep me here any longer.”

“The woods aren’t safe at night,” Tomura says. “Not from them. Not for you, and not for me. I can’t stop you from leaving, but if one of them finds you, they’ll do worse than anything I could.”

You remember what you said to the others before you left – you’d be back before nightfall, or else tomorrow morning. It looks like it’ll be tomorrow morning. “All right,” you say, and Tomura’s grip on your wrist relaxes. “I’m still putting on my clothes.”

Somehow, getting dressed again makes things more awkward, not less. Even with your clothes on, you can’t forget that he’s seen you without them, or anything else about what happened between the two of you. You’re hungry and thirsty, but even if Tomura offered you food, you couldn’t eat anything that’s passed through faery hands or come from the Fair Folk’s domain. It’s dark, and you’re tired. Once you’re dressed again, you go looking for somewhere to sleep.

“Here.” Tomura is shadowing you, never more than a hairsbreadth away. He points out the hollow of a massive tree, more than spacious enough for three people, let alone two. Inside it you can see a collection of objects, scattered in the corners, decorating the walls. “This is where I sleep.”

“So I should sleep somewhere else,” you say, but your attention’s drawn to the objects. There’s no rhyme or reason to what they are, no common thread. Jewelry and watches hang on walls beside folded pieces of paper, books lay in piles on the ground next to stacks of CDs and old cameras – and phones. There are more smartphones piled up under this tree than you’ve seen since the end of the world, and suddenly it clicks. “These are from your trades.”

Tomura nods, and you study the objects, feeling sick to your stomach all over again. The most valuable thing a person had – in the war and immediately afterwards, it would have been their phone, because everyone still hoped they’d start working again. Then photo albums, picture frames, even missing posters, reminders of people who’d been lost, and after that, simple objects. A CD, because things with batteries still work. A favorite book, because no books will ever be printed again. A piece of jewelry, gifted by someone a person loved. Like what you would have traded to Tam Lin, if you’d had a chance to choose.

You get a little fixated on a dog’s collar, well-worn, with a tag still dangling from it. It’s all too easy to imagine the person who would have carried it with them. “This is cruel.”

“They had a choice.” Tomura takes the collar out of your hand and sets it back among the rest, arranging it just so. His hands are covered in scars, just like the rest of him. “They chose this.”

Something occurs to you. “How many of them chose it?” you ask. He glances sideways at you, then looks away. “How many of gave something to you, and how many of them –”

You aren’t sure how to describe what happened to you. Tomura doesn’t answer, and you think about the world before the war, the world after. Of how many people still cling desperately to the scraps of a world that will never come back. You know the answer to your question. You wished you hadn’t asked in the first place, and the idea of sleeping here makes your skin crawl. Sleeping here next to him feels even stranger.

But you don’t know what else lives in the woods, and while you can’t trust Tomura, you know at least that he has his end of the bargain to uphold. You crawl into the hollow beneath the tree, keeping as far from Tomura as possible. Tam Lin’s glade shimmers even in the moonless night, but within the tree, it’s ordinary darkness. Somewhere within it, Tomura speaks. “Out there. What’s it like?”

You don’t know what to say. “I asked that boy,” Tomura continues. “He wouldn’t tell me. Is it a secret?”

“It’s not a secret,” you say. “He knows better than to talk to faeries. All the children do.”

“For how long?”

“Why does it matter?” you ask. Tomura scoffs, shifts in the darkness. Your eyes have adjusted enough to see his shoulders hunched, his almost-skeletal limbs folding in to make him smaller than he should be. “You’re one of them. Shouldn’t you know?”

“I told you I’m not a faery.” It’s quiet for a few moments. “If I knew, I wouldn’t be asking you. How long ago did it start?”

“Seven years this October,” you say, and on the other side of the hollow, Tomura sits bolt upright. “Does that mean something to you?”

Tomura doesn’t answer that, either. He sits there, frozen like a statue, and you turn away. It’s been a while since you slept on the ground, but you’re tired enough that it won’t matter, and you feel so strange. Your legs hurt, and you’re sore between them, and when you lick your lips, you find Tomura’s blood still staining your mouth. Lying down on the far side of the hollow with your back to him doesn’t feel like the right answer, but neither does trying to talk to him, let alone going closer. You lie down, fold your arms against your chest in an effort to keep warm, and close your eyes.

Your eyelids have just begun to grow heavy when Tomura speaks again. “Seven years,” he says, and his voice sounds wrong. “Are you sure?”

“I remember the day it happened,” you say. “I know.”

You were thirteen. You remember the way the weight and taste of the air changed, the icy winds that whipped through town ahead of the advancing armies. You remember running, then hiding, hearing but not seeing what was done to the people who were caught. Izuku and the others will never know what the world was like before, but even if you don’t cling to the past, you can never forget what the Fair Folk tore away. “I know,” you say again. “Almost seven years.”

“Seven years.” Tomura takes a deep breath, or tries to. You hear it catch and rattle. “I didn’t think –”

His breathing rattles again, and a sense of foreboding sweeps over you. There’s something he knows that you don’t, something you have to get out of him – but then he takes another rattling breath, and you match the sound to the reaction. It’s not one you’d expect from the Fair Folk, and it’s what convinces you at last that Tam Lin’s not one of them. The Fair Folk don’t cry.

You shouldn’t care at all, not when you’re sitting amongst the precious things he’s stolen from so many in exchange for their freedom, not when you’re one of his – victims? – yourself. But ignoring it feels wrong, wrong in the same way as waiting until morning to look for Izuku was. You sit up, reach out across the hollow, but the distance between the two of you is too great. You scoot closer, feeling for him through the darkness until your hand encounters a frozen, shaking shoulder. The question you were going to ask him dies on your tongue.

Whatever this is, it’s not something you can fix. You wrap your arms loosely around him instead, feeling him startle the same way he did when you first kissed him. You lie back, pulling Tomura with you, until the two of you are sprawled on the ground. It’s uncomfortable, still. Tomura’s still cold. You still don’t know how you feel about what happened between the two of you. But you know you feel better like this. Things feel better when you aren’t alone.

You don’t remember falling asleep, but when the sounds of the forest wake you up, it’s dawn. Tomura hasn’t stirred, and he’s lying on one of your arms, which is numb and full of pins and needles as you try to work it loose. Tomura sits up before you’ve freed yourself. The darkness wasn’t kind to him, but in daylight, you’re struck by just how terrible he looks – thinner, paler, skin dry and cracked and scarred. He’s hard to look at. Harder to look away from.

You look away and get to your feet. “Which way do I go to get out?”

“The low road.” Tam Lin is slower to rise, and as he does, the same passageway that Izuku left through opens on the far side of the glade. “Don’t leave the path.”

“I won’t.” You straighten your clothes, then turn to look at Tomura. What are you supposed to say to him now? Thank you for not hurting you, for letting you fulfill your side of the bargain your way? “Goodbye, Tam Lin.”

“That’s not my name,” he says. “The other one. Do you remember it?”

“Of course,” you say, and Tomura’s shoulders relax ever so slightly. “I won’t forget.”

“It won’t matter anymore, soon,” Tomura says. He turns away. “Go.”

You have questions – questions, and a strange twist of worry within you – but you also made a promise to the others in the settlement, and you have to keep it. You turn away from him and cross the glade, heading for the opening between the trees, not stopping even when you hear his footsteps behind you. One hand grasps your waist again, stopping you in your tracks, while the other arm wraps around you. There’s something in his hand. You look down and see the rose you plucked last night, as perfect as when you pulled it from the vine.

“Here.” Tam Lin’s voice is less than a puff of air against your ear. “You won this. Take it with you.”

You take it from him, and his hands fall away from you. The urge to look back is there, and it’s strong. You step forward instead, crossing out of the glade – and three steps later, out of the woods and into the bright morning sun.

It’s not long before one of the others spots you – Keigo’s always had sharp eyes – and he calls for the others. As they race towards you, you decide what you’ll tell them. You spent the night bargaining with Tam Lin, the same as the hero in another folktale spent her night as wife to a murderous king telling stories to keep him interested, and eventually you won your freedom. You’ll say nothing of the bargain you really made, nothing of what happened between you and the being the world knows as Tam Lin. They’ll look at you differently. They won’t understand. You barely understand yourself.

You’ll keep it to yourself. When the others reach you, you ask your question first. “Did Izuku get back? Is he okay?”

“He’s fine,” Fuyumi says. She looks you anxiously up and down. “What about you?”

You’re conscious of the woods behind you in a way you never were before. You’re still holding the rose. “I’m glad Izuku’s okay,” you say, because you are. And then you lie, because you can do that, because they don’t need to know how you returned – just that you did. “I’m fine, too.”

[xxcallmemaryxx]

Dewdrop x GNreader.

Everyone knew that Dewdrop was a dangerous and impulsive creature that set things alight with every step he took. But you saved him. 

There's a specific kind of trust that comes along with the games Dewdrop likes to play with you. He's an impulsive creature, anybody with a set of eyes would be able to tell that much. Maybe that's why he always came back to you. 

Hundreds of years he has spent on this earth, always finding the next thing to do. Something to quell that heat that builds in his chest when he dwells on something for too long. He gets antsy. He gets shitty. It scored him his reputation. Which only added to the fire that grows in his being if he was to sit on something for a moment too long. It's something his fellow ghouls have spent what’s felt like eons trying to break. But it embedded itself into Dew's life before he even realised it. Sinking its filthy claws into the back of his brain, only to linger and fester into a side of Dewdrop that he struggles to control. The bigger the band got, the deeper those claws sunk. All too quickly he found himself unable to extinguish his urges, the impulsive thoughts that struck his mind were spewing out through his actions before he was able to process them. It was damaging. All too quickly that's just what people expected of him. Fans, Siblings of Sin…. even his own band mates had accepted the fact that that was just who Dewdrop was. Which inevitably, cemented the reality that he wasn't able to change. There was a very small part of him that longed to rid himself of this outrageous person he'd morphed into. 

Once upon a time he existed without the fire. He remembers it, as if it were some vague dream that he'd had many years ago. Bits and pieces returning to the front of his mind just to taunt him. It's quiet. It's slow. There's no heat. He just exists. He often found himself chasing that silence. It would disappear quicker than what it had appeared. Leaving him with a hole in his lungs while trying to breathe himself back to reality. 

He got lonely. Sure he was surrounded by people. But those people expected to see a side of him he was sick of showing. He craved just one. One moment. One small shred of quiet. He often considered throwing his whole life away just to feel it again. To hold onto it. No more running. No more chasing. No more searching, yearning, longing, reaching for something he just can't grasp. It was devastating. 

But you. 

You. 

You terrified him. Still do sometimes, but not in the way one would assume. He didn't want to run. He didn't want to hide. He actually welcomed you, with wide open arms. That, was what terrified him. The idea alone that he was so drawn to you; a singular human being. Something so breakable, so easy to ruin… yet you ruined him with a simple smile. He wanted you. Not just to mess around with, he'd spent a lifetime messing around. He wanted to win you over, he wanted to impress you, he wanted you to want him just as much. He took his time with you. And he would have spent the rest of forever, and even beyond that, taking his time with you. But you rewarded his efforts, you let him in, and you introduced him to the very thing he’d been trying to find for so long. 

The only way he can describe it, is as if he had been drowning and you pulled him out of the deep end and breathed life back into him. Or if he had been pushed off a building, and you caught him before he hit the ground. Dew feels like he won't ever be able to find the right words to tell you that you saved him, but what he doesn't realise is that they are literally right there. You saved him. And he will forever be in your debt, but you don't let him dwell on it for too long. 

Although you managed to put out one fire in Dewdrop's life, you always find a way to light another. Except this fire is vastly different, in fact Dewdrop likes this one.

It's in the way you look at him. He swears he sees a pyre in your eyes, lit up with pure adoration and love for him as if you’d been sent up from hell by the devil himself. It's in the way you proudly show him off to anyone who is close enough to see. It's in that cheeky smile of yours that brings him to his knees whenever he is lucky enough to catch sight of it. 

But fuck… if its anything, its in the way you hand yourself over to him with such confidence. Your shared bed is a sacred space that he shares with nobody but you. He refuses to let anybody or anything corrupt the energy the two of you conjure while you're in it. The sounds he can rip from you, the way your body molds into his, the unbroken bond the two of you have created between each other in this very room alone is beyond anything he has ever experienced. He is very protective of his relationship with you, and the trust you have in him when you let yourself go beneath him. You let him ravish you. You let him devour you. You let him pluck every miniscule thought right out of your mind with each kiss he plants on your heated skin, with each caress of his hands on your beautiful body, with every little praise that falls from his lips. 

During these moments, when the world outside of your locked bedroom door doesn't exist to either of you anymore, the truth is that you showed him that he was deserving of change. The change that everyone around him convinced him he was not capable of. The change that he had been chasing, he found it in you. The way you breathe his name, the way you carry his scent, just in the way you love him is everything he has ever needed. You put out the dangerous fire that was Dewdrop, you ripped the claws of self doubt and rage right out of his head and you filled the gaps in his lungs with everything you had to offer.

You saved him. 

[g-xix]

Hey can I request a JJ imagine, where we almost kiss another man and he gets really jealous and stops talking to us but then we find out he's angry cause he really likes us and then we confess our love for him and get together

Chocolate Eyes | JJ Olatunji

Ofc you can get some of that! Love this imagine, thank you so much for requesting it! Requests are open so to anyone reading, feel free to request more. Photo checkpoint:

Now isn't that just adorable. Anyways, Go on and read + enjoy the oneshot!

---------------------------------

"That was really great," I smiled at Jacob. It had been my first time ever using a dating app, and I'd never expected a first date to go so well. 

Jacob was lovely, also. He'd picked me up at my door,  paid for the meal and then offered to hold hands when we walked around the park... He'd kept out hands connected even as he walked me back to the house, thumb gently grazing over the back of my hand every so often and reminding me of the differences in size. He was a gentle giant and I felt myself getting butterflies every time he even slightly squeezed my hand.

Fiddling in my handbag, I pulled my house-keys up and went to face Jacob, ready to say goodbye.

"So, second date to see that new film?" He asked with a grin, knowing fully well what my answer would be.

"You don't even need to ask." I responded with a smile of my own, admiring his chocolatey eyes and their glow in the sunset orange. 

They reminded me of someone else's though, and maybe that's what made me lean as I felt his hand on my lower back, pulling me in as we closed our eyes, our lips barely a few minute eons away before-

"Heya, Liz-" My body jerked away from Jacob's as the door was swung open, a shocked JJ revealed stood behind it. His jaw fell slightly slack, eyes widening before filling with an unreadable expression. As though his cards had been drawn back from the table- suddenly he was unreadable as his expression fell to slate. "Oh."

"Uhm, it was great meeting you." I suddenly felt very shy, smiling at the ground as I felt my brother's best friend's harsh gaze burning a hole in the back of my head. Jacob seemed unperturbed.

"Yeah, you too- I'll see you sometime soon!" He gave that sunshine smile once more before skipping down the front porch's stairs, flipping his car keys up before catching them smoothly and walking out of the gates.

I was left with JJ, stepping in cautiously whilst he shut the door behind me. 

"What you been up to, then?" I tried to start conversation, not knowing why I felt so awkward with JJ. We were almost as close as Simon and himself were. Having grown up in the same household with Simon, with Deji as one of my closer friends whilst growing up- it was inevitable JJ and I would become close as well.

It was mildly unnerving seeing JJ so closed of however, as he simply pulled his phone out of his basketball shorts and began scrolling- casually walking up the stairs to his room as if I hadn't said a thing.

It hurt a bit, since I really quite liked JJ. Maybe I'd liked him too much at the beginning, as whenever he'd come over to hang with Simon I'd get excited and start tidying our room so that JJ might be impressed. Simon never bothered though- and that meant that when JJ came to our room, one side was always freakishly tidy, whilst Simon's side was messy. 

And I'd always make sure to do my makeup nice, and substitute the baggy joggers and oversized shirt for a nice pair of jeans and fitting top.

The one time JJ had came over unannounced and I'd opened the door with tired eyes, toothbrush hanging out the side of my mouth and clothes loosely hanging off of my body- I'd been mortified- and simply ran up the stairs, yelling for Simon whilst I cringed at myself in the bathroom, listening to their muffled laughs from the room outside. 

JJ might have been able to tell I'd liked him as well, as he seemed to play with my feelings when I was a bit younger. Holding eye contact until I was blushing, giving me the flowers he plucked when the four of us walked home, brushing his hand against mine whenever we walked beside one another.

So I distanced myself until he started realising I didn't want to be played like that- whilst he had a lovely girlfriend, I didn't want to just be the best-friend's sister who you play with knowing fully well you'd never date because it's too much work convincing the older brother to accept it...

Then JJ and I simply became friends.

Nothing more than Simon and JJ had going. Friends- we'd sit together and watch movies in the living room, order takeouts for one another, go to the gym and spot one another (although we both knew fully well that he couldn't control the weights I squatted, and I couldn't manage the weights he curled).

But never had he blatantly ignored me.

Shrugging it off, I followed him up the stairs, heading to my room and putting on some music from a speaker whilst writing in my journal. An uncommon hobby, but one that I found solace in. Ever since I first met JJ, when for my birthday he got a pretty leather stamped journal, I'd written all the things I'd never say to his face inside those pages.

"DINNER'S DONE, EVERYONE!"

I heard Josh's shouts from downstairs, following the call and joining Vik, Simon and JJ around the island, picking a slice of pizza and folding it over so I could eat it whilst scooping some fries onto my plate as well. I squirted a generous portion of ketchup over my fries before turning to JJ. 

"Want any?" I questioned, knowing he basically refused those French fries without ketchup- though he seemed to not notice, as he continued his Twitter browse. "JJ?" I questioned.

Still no response.

Great. Ignoring me.

It didn't even hurt that time. It stung a bit as I felt the silence indicate Josh, Vik and Simon had all watched the awkward interaction- watched as JJ ignored and frankly rejected me. And it brewed an ugly sort of spite and anger inside me, like acid sitting unhappily at the bottom of my stomach.

"Fine then." I slammed the bottle down onto the island and grabbed my plate, marching out of the room, seeing JJ help himself to the bottle of ketchup from the corner of my eye as I left.

I left the plate on the desk in my room, instead jumping straight onto the bed and staring at the ceiling.

Why's he ignoring me? When did he start... Just after I came back with Jacob. What, is he annoyed that I brought Jacob to the house? He shouldn't be- nobody on the internet even knows I'm related to Simon or any of the Sidemen business so I'm not bringing fans or any of that trouble... Did Jacob do something behind my back? No, he wouldn't... He's too respectful. Too...

I pondered back over my date with Jacob. He was sweet. Respectful and kind, and yet I didn't lean in to kiss him because of him. I wouldn't have kissed him... Just something about those gorgeous chocolatey eyes reminded me of something... Something familiar. Sweet, like him, something that smelled of just waking up and gave the feeling of home on a lazy Summer day. Comforting. Familiar. Pleasant. 

"Liz?" Simon knocked at my door, peeking his head around the corner. "We're gonna watch a movie in the living room... You wanna come?"

I contemplated before sighing. "I don't know... What movie?"

"We'll pick when we get down." Simon shrugged. I turned my back to lie on my side, facing away from the door and pursing my lips shut. Maybe I just needed a bit more time alone to think. Simon sighed, and I heard his footsteps approach, before a weigh indicated he had taken a seat on the opposite side of my bed. "I'm sorry JJ's ignoring you."

"Any clue why?"

"No, I thought you'd know."

I sighed.

"He's usually happiest with you, I don't know why he's being such a prat. He left the kitchen a few seconds after you left, too. I think he's unhappy about something."

I rolled over to face Simon, his own head lowered, looking to his hands as he fidgeted with his fingers before turning back to make eye contact with me and give a smile.

"Maybe he's ignoring you because you're annoying, though."

"That's definitely not it," I snorted. "If he's managed to put up with you for fifteen years, he won't have a problem with me."

"Shut up." Simon huffed, though he too let out a laugh as he felt the depressing presence alleviate. He leaned forwards before getting up from the bed with a groan, holding out a hand. "C'mon, let's go watch that movie."

I followed Simon down to Josh and Vik in the living room- Tobi also accompanying the duo, probably having arrived a few minutes ago.

I sat besides Tobi near the end of the sofa, greeting him with a smile and picking a seemingly good movie with the group before the door opened, causing Josh to pause the movie as we all swivelled out heads to see JJ enter the room.

Josh pressed play, eyes flicking from JJ to myself cautiously as JJ took the last spot of the sofa- right besides me.

The movie proceeded, though I couldn't watch it- all too focussed on the presence besides me- sat so stiffly, the whole atmosphere feeling wrong.

He'd always get the blanket out and cover himself in it, begrudgingly allowing me into the cocoon when I got cold and tugged on a corner. And he'd let me fall asleep on him, knowing I needed to fall asleep leaning to one side, and I'd be woken up as I felt JJ's chest rise and fall with his harmonious laughter, whilst Simon grumbled you act like a married couple.

It was poetic, almost. How well we knew each other, how well fitting we were, and yet how mismatched it felt sitting besides him whilst neither of us really watched the movie- like two corner pieces of a puzzle being awkwardly slotted besides one another. 

We were barely half an hour in when JJ excused himself, muttering something or other about thirsty, closing the door behind him.

Josh paused the movie.

We all faced him.

"Go, get up, and speak to JJ." He commanded, his eyes meeting mine. His voice was soft, consoling and full of advice as he spoke. I wanted to shake my head, to say no and childishly stay sat and continue watching the movie- but as Josh's eyes stayed trained on mine, I knew I had to go.

I entered the kitchen almost instantly, finding JJ simply staring out of one of the windows.

"So what is it." My voice broke the silence. JJ's daydream seemed to break as his neck snapped in my direction, eyes widening at the confrontation before he shook his head, dazed and spoke.

"Nothing." He looked as though he were biting down on his tongue hard, as he cracked a bottle of water open, gulping hungrily before walking around the island to leave. Too bad I was in the way.

"What, you're just ignoring me for no reason?" I questioned with a bit more irritation in my voice, stepping in front of him to try and stop JJ from leaving the situation. He barged into my shoulder, his elbow wedging into my upper arm hard enough to bruise as he walked past.

"I don't know what you're on about-"

I grabbed his hand, pulling him back and stopping him from leaving- forcing him to look down to our interlinked hands before his panicked eyes met my own.

"What, JJ, why?" I felt the words leaving my mouth.

He shrugged, breaking eye contact, though his fingers squeezed mine gently. I could feel that familiar lump rising in my throat, making my voice thick though I tried to swallow it down.

"Do you think this is just some game?" It came out in a quietly. "Is it just for your own enjoyment- your entertainment, that you ignore me? You give me hope and act like you like me and then pretend I don't even exist? What, am I just some-"

"I don't pretend." His voice came out softly as he squeezed his eyes shut, unable to look at me whilst he spoke. "I don't pretend to like you- it's not some game to me, Liz..."

"Yeah I'd hope you liked me after we've lived together for four years." I scoffed, though tears threatened the corners of my eyes. 

"No, Liz, it's..." He sighed. "It's more complicated than that."

"Then explain it JJ," I whispered. "I'd rather listen to hours of whatever you have to say than just be ignored by you."

"Fuck, Liz." He removed his hand from my own, covering his face. "I don't just like you like that. How could I. I like you like... more."

"More?" I scoffed as his words. "Yeah, because when you really like someone of course you'd ignore them-"

"Liz, oh my god, listen!" He seemed to be desperate as he spoke this time, turning around to make concentrated eye contact. "I fucking like you. I liked you ever since we first met, when Simon invited me round and I saw you sat on your side of the room, reading whatever bullshit comics you liked. I always wanted to say something but you just seemed so... distant, and I didn't want to lose you as a friend if anything went wrong and you didn't like me back- and I still don't..."

I felt the breath leave my lungs as he confessed. 

"JJ you daft twat, of course I fucking like you," I felt myself laugh weakly despite the mix of feelings that circulated through my mind. "I thought you'd never like me back- I thought you were just playing me... And you had a girlfriend, I never thought I..."

Words failed to assist me, and instead JJ filled the gap.

"And I'm sorry for ignoring you." He squeezed my hands gently, and spoke with an even more gentle tone. "I shouldn't have. It was rude, I just... It was awkward seeing you with that guy. It was..."

"Jealousy?" I filled the end of the sentence for him l before laughing. "You were jealous?"

"Well..." He grumbled begrudgingly. "You were about to kiss him..."

I felt myself laugh with JJ, my eyes closing in relief and realisation JJ didn't hate me. It was all okay - JJ liked me and I was never delusional for having a crush on him. I looked up into JJ's eyes. Like chocolate.

Then is clicked.

I saw JJ's eyes when I was looking into Jacob's. That same honeyed hue, dark around the edges and soft and honey brown in the middles, undulating like gentle waves which reminded me of all the pleasant little intricacies of JJ that I had come 'round to loving 

"Liz?"

He asked, and I couldn't help myself from slinging my arms around his shoulders, crashing his lips into mine then and there, closing my eyes and savouring that feeling of his cocoa butter lips against mine, moving softly and gently and giving me everything that the fifteen-year-old version of myself could only dream of feeling, as he wrapped his arms around my waist and kissed me as though we had been in love for years.

-----------------------

Hope everyone enjoyed!

Feel free to request more of whatevs u wanna see, and don't forget to press all the little buttons at the bottom if u rly liked it!

Hope you enjoyed reading!! Feel free to interact- whether that be a comment, vote or follow! Requests open, feel free to submit what u wanna see... Much love!!

To see more, here's my MASTERLIST

And here's my WATTPAD, with 50+ more oneshots to read

[xtrashmammalstefx]

Where My Demons Hide (A Zak Bagans Story) Pt. 2

Requested By: @goth-cowgirl-03

WARNINGS: Language

Notes: Unlike the first part this is pure FLUFF. Like no joke.

Zakkk: I’m sorry Y/N. I need time.

Zakkk: I think u do too.

That was the last text Zak had sent me since that night. It’s been only a month but the radio silence made it feel like a lifetime.

I explained to him what had happened the night before… How he was attacked and… and I thought I helped him… I told him how we ended up in bed together, and how, as it turns out, he was possessed the entire time he’d made love to me.

He quickly got dressed and went for a walk. While he was gone I got dressed, eliminated the buzz killing dickwad who was still lingering in the room and walked back to my room with the heavy weight of shame on my shoulders.

Now as I lay in my bed not wanting to get up, I sigh and put my phone back on the bedside table. As soon as I did a wave of nausea hit me full force and I darted to the bathroom. Once I kneeled over the toilet there was no stopping it. Looking at it you would think I’d thrown up every meal I’d had for the past week.

Empty of sustinence I flushed the toilet and sat down beside it to catch my breath. As I did my hand went up to my stomach to give it a much needed massage. My hand froze though when I touched myself. I looked down and gasped. The entire area between my hips was swollen, not dramatically so but enough to be noticeable. “Not possible…” I whispered. But once I felt the slightest nudge against my hand I knew…

“UNCLE LUCI YOU PIECE OF SHI-!” I was cut off by the sound of my doorbell. I groaned and pulled myself up.

As I made my way to my room to get my robe I sent a silent prayer to my father.

Uncle Luci did it. The Big A is on its way.

I threw my robe on and ran downstairs, sashing it as I did.

I looked through the peep hole not expecting to see anyone important; maybe the mailman, or Amazon. Instead of them though, Zak stood on my doorstep. Fucking great.

I sighed and opened the door. “Hey,” I greeted him.

“Hey, um, are you feeling okay?”

“Do I look that shitty?”

“Well, yeah, kind of…”

“Awesome,” I said unenthusiastically. “Um, is there something you wanted?”

“Um, I just wanted to talk but if you’re not up to it-”

“I was about to call you anyway,” I said stepping aside.

He stepped inside and started towards the living room. I followed close by but froze when a voice caught my attention.

Who is the mother?

“Y/N? You alright?” I held up a finger and pointed upward. A signal he grew to know very well.

They put him in me.

And the vessel father?

He’s standing right in front of me.

“Sorry about that, dad and I needed to have a very urgent chat,” I said.

“Should we be worried?” Zak asked.

“Not if we do things right,” I said. “Which is why I was gonna call you.”

“And here I was about to talk about, well, that night… I guess that can wait though.”

“Actually it has exactly to do with what happened that night,” I said before undoing the knot on my robe. “Try not to panic, okay? Neither of us could’ve seen this coming…”

“Seen wha-” I cut him off by opening my robe exposing my belly. “THE FUCK?!”

“I told you not to panic,” I said. “Fear is the last thing either of us should feel right now.”

“I-I mean is it mine? The fuck am I thinking of course it is,” Zak buried his head in his hands.

“It’s only partially yours,” I explained. “The human part is very much you. It also has bit of me, and a part of the demon that put it in here.” Zak’s head shot up.

“Demon?” I nodded.

“For eons his kind had gone by one name,” I held my stomach and tears erupted from my eyes. “Antichrist.”

“I think I’m gonna throw up,” Zak muttered. “Does this mean...did… did we just end the fucking world?”

“No,” I whispered. “Well, I mean we basically puts it fate in our hands. If we do things right he will grow to be the most powerful being on this planet but he won’t be evil. If we fuck up though…”

“It will be the ultimate fuck up,” Zak finished. “And there’s nothing we can do right now, you know like an abortion or..?”

“He’s growing too fast and even if we did they would only try again with someone else,” I said. “I’m not the only Nephilim in the world remember?”

The shock wouldn’t leave Zak’s face. I walked over to the couch where he was and sat down beside him. “I’m sorry… I’m sorry you’re involved in this…” He turned to me but didn’t say anything, hell he wouldn’t even look at me in the face, his eyes froze over the bump. Still staring he slowly reached out and placed his hand on my stomach. There was another nudge in response.

Zak gasped. “It really is growing fast. I take it we don’t have the normal nine months to prepare.”

“Nope,” I muttered.

His hand then fell from my stomach down to my hand. He took my hand in his and held it tight. “I’m with you every step of the way.” He said sounding like he was making a promise to himself, to me, and to his child. “I love you, Y/N. More than I’ve ever loved anyone before… and evil or not I will love this baby for the rest of my life.”

“I love you too,” I whispered before Zak leaned in and enveloped my lips with his. Somehow this kiss felt different than the ones we shared that night. It was more warm, loving, and well… human.

After a while we pulled back and Zak just held me against him. “There’s something we have to do before anything else, though.”

“What?”

I looked up at him, smiling weakly. “How do you feel about getting married?”

[nascentwaves]

The Abyssal Sea is less of an actual ocean and more of a massive space created by the Regulators to contain and seal Primordials inside of it. A majority of the beings there have no relation to one another with their biology or history, and seldom few tend to mingle peacefully. In fact, fighting is incredibly common among the Primordial Entities stashed there, but rarely does death come to any due to the nature of the space itself.

A special aspect of the space is deathlessness. Enshrouding it from the inside-out, it ensures that no matter how grievous or fatal the injuries retained by the Primordials are, they will survive and recover. Even if one is torn to morsels they will inevitably become whole again.

Up until Vhax punched a gaping hole into the massive space station-like wall that encompasses the "rings" of the Abyssal Sea, it was next to impossible for anything to actually leave the confines of the Sea. Now that there's an opening, several beings have made their move to leave -- and a couple so far have succeeded.

Some, like "AIN," do their best to "widen" the fissure that was so brutishly made by Vhax through arcane rituals and to welcome into the universe the very beings that they believe to be divinity.

Leaving comes with its own caveats. The Regulators couldn't ignore the possibility that one day something might break out, after all, and so they created a persistent artifact that could act as a fail-safe: the Abyssal Shroud. Clinging to Primordials who exit the space, it limits their powers and gradually drains their strength, threatening them with confinement again if they're unable to actually remove it from themselves. It also allows the Regulators to track their every move and keep an eye on their power fluctuations, giving them the option to step in and personally seal them again if need be.

Every now and then, there's one who manages to shred the Shroud shortly after escaping. Unchecked, these entities that once made entire galaxies their stomping grounds tend to return to the communities that they fostered eons ago and, should they be gone, do their damnedest to create new ones to nurture themselves and gradually regain their lost strength.

And sometimes, they're successful in capturing the eyes of more than just the Regulators...

[plagueybirb]

More BOTW/TOTK Era Termina. Because why not. This time, we're talking about some Sheikah characters!

Let's just start by establishing that I subscribe to the Termina Sheikah having purple hair theory. Mostly that aggressively bright purple, but any shade of purple really. It sort of pales as they get older, but some are just naturally born with a very light off-white sort of purpleish tint to their hair.

Moving on.

Y'all know the fisherman's hut and the Great Bay spider house? Yeah, Sheik, Paya, and Impa live there. They run the ocean fishing hole! Purah would've joined in on the family business, but science was her calling, so I'd say she moved to Clock Town and now runs the observatory. She still visits of course, she's just not very interested in the fishing business. She's got the bright violet hair of the family.

Termina's Impa owns the place, and there's a very good reason it exists even though there's literally an entire pirate fortress just a lightning strike away. You simply do not mess with Termina Impa, even when she's a little old grey haired granny just hanging out at the counter. Let's just say she's got connections.

Paya is the eldest grandchild, she's the one you're gonna see most often if it's not Impa at the counter. She enjoys the quiet, and is actually a very accomplished sailor. She knows her stuff, and is probably going to be the one officially taking over the family business. Easily the best swimmer in the family, she's the one retrieving poles that get lost in the shallows, occasionally joins the Zora in swimming races and has won before. I think she's got a pretty lavender shade for her hair.

Sheik is Paya's younger brother in this one. If you see a Gold Skulltula, it's more than likely one of his. They're critically endangered after a certain green boy of legend visited, and it's literally taken eons to rebuild the population because people will not stop stabbing them. He's not all that interested in fishing compared to Paya, he willingly ditches the ocean fishing hole entirely sometimes to go hang out with the cool old swamp hermit selling potions at his own fishing hole business. Sheik comes back knowing how to throw fireballs at annoying customers. He's so blonde compared to the rest of the family he just tells people that Impa picked him up off the streets to work for her shadowy secret thief empire.

Paya tells people that blonde just crops up in her family bloodline on occasion and he's 100% her baby brother. Impa tells people she bought him from either the pirates or the Garo, she can't remember. Purah tells people she experimented on him as an infant trying to find the secret to eternal youth. No one knows what to believe, and the story changes every time someone asks. All anyone knows for sure is that Sheik's permanently banned from the Milk Bar.

Next up is Dorian and his daughters! Dorian is a close family friend and does his best to keep Sheik and Paya out of trouble when they visit Clock Town. He's a guard for the mayor (probably Captain of the guard honestly, Cado is a very close second), and his daughters are both in the Bombers Secret Society of Justice with Tulin.

Dorian's wife is still dead. Sorry everyone.

ANYWAY.

Most of the other named Sheikah we see in game live in or near Ikana I'd think. Perhaps they helped rebuild it once upon a time and now just are honored citizens. Obviously not all of them live there, there is a Kakariko sort of village somewhere in Termina, it's just INCREDIBLY well hidden. For certain reasons. No one is allowed to visit. And heaven forbid you come across it accidentally.

And now, last but certainly not least, Robbie and family!

Robbie invented Termina's first electric guitar. He's got it rigged to play a sick riff whenever he strikes a pose. That's literally it's only purpose. He'll sell the secrets of his invention when he's dead.

Jerrin seems like she'd work in a museum, studying old legends and artifacts from millions of years ago. Her latest topic of study is an ancient artifact that was dug up recently in Ikana, a strange blue flute that seems impossibly old and yet brand new at the same time. She has a little clockwork assistant! (It's Cherry)

Their son, Granté works there occasionally too, but mostly he's with his own research team studying Stone Tower Temple. Especially that mysterious hole in the ceiling. Legends say there's a portal to another world there, and he hopes to be the one to discover it.

[evereinefaust]

. . . ⇢ ˗ˏˋ 𝐒𝐧𝐨𝐰 ࿐ྂ

Pairing: Selever X afab!Reader

Sypnosis: That patch of land during the winter season seems to lure him in, yet, no matter how many times Selever found himself standing in that place, he still kept asking himself — why?

Word Count: 1,081

"Heh... So fucking pathetic."

He stayed rigid, standing in the middle of the field. White snowflakes cascaded down around him, piling up snow even more. His rose-colored, long-sleeved vest and black pants stood in contrast against the pure blanket of snow. With both of his hands tucked inside his pockets, the male's bored gaze landed on the ground. He stared at the white canvas as if boring holes in it.

"One day, I hope that you and your sister will achieve the happiness you two wanted."

"Big brother, what are you staring at?"

"...Nothing. Just the ground, I guess," the boy sighed.

Ever since winter started, Selever found himself paying a visit to this particular place. Every day, without fail. At first, it was due to his curiosity. But after many times, he started to get annoyed by the fact that he himself can't seem to stop coming back here.

He doesn't know. Selever doesn't know what seemed to be the root of his peculiar behavior. As if on instinct, he would walk over to this patch of ground, in the middle of the once blooming flower field. Then he would stop, his gaze immediately landing onto the ground. He would stare at it, even though there's nothing of importance nor value there.

"Such a plain place. There's nothing else really in here. Just the white stretching over who knows."

For his entire 17 years of existence, Selever would be drawn towards this place. Even as a baby, he would force his parents to go here. Sarvente once called this place 'sacred', believing that it may contain something divine that causes her son to constantly visit without fail. And although as stupid as it sounds, he didn't dare to deny her words. After all, he doesn't know what the hell was this place nor what it does to him.

Then soon after, the whole family would yearly visit the fields as a part of their tradition. Even when his younger sister, Rasazy, was born, he would consistently visit the fields. Inevitably, Selever grew fond of this place. It truly disgusted him for acting this way, yet, he cannot stop himself no matter what he does.

"Portal, huh? Of course, I'm not surprised. You are their son, after all."

The winter breeze picked up, making pearlescent strands of the young man's messy, low pony-tailed hair sway gently in its trail. The cold was nothing to him, however, the breeze carries more than just coldness. Every time it happens, Selever swore that he could hear soft whispers echoing around the fields. The distant voice of a girl — a voice so familiar yet unfamiliar at the same time.

Deep creases were embedded in between his thin eyebrows, bright silver hues narrowing. "So fucking annoying."

Yet, no matter how often he would spew out profanities in the wind, he would be met with silence. He doesn't know why he would continuously do this. Was he waiting for something to happen perhaps? Or maybe he was expecting some kind of response coming from that ghostly voice? 

"Me? Oh, don't worry about me. I've been here for as long as I can remember; it's no big deal if I were to spend another eon trapped here alone."

Soon, the breeze halted. Then something unexpected happened. Beating erratically against his chest was his heart, making his body warm up in synch. His breath hitched, mist coming out from his mouth. Selever clenched his heart, unease filling up his insides.

"Pathetic... So fucking pathetic!"

Heavy breathing and gasps escaped the boy's lips. His body trembling with anxiety. His heart experiencing excruciating pain that he never once experienced before. Soon, his knees buckled and he fell unto the soft snow. His other hand came in contact with the coldness of the white fluff which soon melts under him.

After what seemed to be hours, Selever finally calmed down. And uncharacteristically of him, his hand softly brushed against the patch. He weaved his fingers into the snow and pushed some to the side until the brown dirt underneath appeared. His gaze caught sight of a tiny flower beginning to bloom — Snowdrops.

"H-huh...? What the fuck is this?" Selever felt something wet cascading down his pale cheeks. He cautiously touched it, feeling its wetness transfer to his fingertips. "Tears? What? So now I'm fucking crying? For fuck's sake, what the fucking hell is wrong with me?"

Yet, despite his profanities and harsh tone, he found himself cracking and breaking down. All the while caressing the small white flower that was hidden in the snow. Tears flowed freely from his glossy eyes, dripping down into the melting snow. Then, a single tear fell unto the bud.

"By the way, when you guys finally make it out of this place, promise me one thing: spend your first winter outside. Trust me."

Standing in the middle of white nothingness, a figure loomed over a circular mirror. Yet, instead of the usual reflection of that person, the image on the other side of the mirror was a scene unfolding. Her serious gaze watched as the young man on the other side knelt down and caressed the snow, his sister approaching him from behind.

Soon, her eyes dropped halfway, a small yet somber smile decorated her lips. She raised her hand over to the mirror, gently glossing over the glass as if patting the boy's silver hair in comfort. After a moment, her arm dropped to her side. The boy in the mirror aggressively wiped his face before standing up abruptly. After a few exchanges with his sister, they then left that patch of land.

As the two figures left, the mirror blurred and the images reverted back to her reflection. She chuckled bitterly, eyes that held contempt and desperation staring back at her. The woman inched closer to the mirror, scrutinizing every small detail of her appearance. Once closer enough, she then leaned in and planted a small kiss on the glass.

She herself doesn't know why she does this every time. Perhaps, it was her way of communicating with her beloved.

"I know that you won't remember me, Sel... but I do hope that you won't forget that I once existed — that patch of land, the winter season; it was the time and place that I died at your hands."

[whumpdrivethru]

Hello! Can I get a Sam Wilson using his badass parescue skills to patch up Bucky after a mission gone wrong? Thank you!

Heyyy! Thank you for choosing the whump drive-thru! Enjoy!

Stitches for a Deeper Wound

Characters: Sam Wilson, Bucky Barnes, mentioned Steve Rogers and mentioned original unnamed villain. Characters are property of Marvel and not me; otherwise, I'd be pretty damn rich. Words: 1.2 k

TW: Blood, gunshot wound, death mentions, general angst, stitches, pain

Saying the mission had gone wrong was a gross understatement. 

Sam Wilson was not exactly the most optimistic person around. And with an operation as risky as this one, there were at least a million and one unpleasant outcomes plaguing his thoughts, but none of them could even so much as hold a candle to this.

Aside from the fact that a highly dangerous crime lord who was running illegal experiments on humans and was wanted by every country and their mother had just escaped their clutches and seemingly disappeared into thin air, Bucky was down, and he’d called Sam for help.

He’d called him for help.

Bucky was the very definition of the word stubborn. Requesting assistance had never really been his cup of tea, only something he’d do out of dire necessity, and in better circumstances, help meant backup. And this wasn’t it. He had a nasty habit of toughing out his injuries, but he could mostly handle himself. 

But when Sam heard that horribly ragged breathing, the weak, desperate “Help,” over his communicator, he’d feared that his worst nightmares were coming to life. Bucky may have been a pain, but Sam couldn’t lose him. 

That kind of suffering was one he could only survive once, and even then it left scars that even eons of time could not hope to heal.

Thankfully, Bucky wasn’t too far away, and Sam spotted a dark figure lying by a tree. . .with a pool of crimson around him, his uneven breaths seeming to get shallower by the moment. 

“Bucky!” he whispered curtly, rushing over to his fallen teammate. “Don’t you dare die on me, you bastard,” he snarled, trying to hide the concern in his voice that Bucky easily discerned, flashing him a weak smile on bloodied teeth. 

If he wasn’t grievously injured, Sam would have at least tried to strangle him.

“How’d he do this to you?” he asked. It wasn’t such a common occurrence that someone could beat a supersoldier, and their enemy, while formidable, didn’t possess any superpowers or extremely powerful gadgets. 

“He drugged me. The experiments he’s running, they’re insane,” he rasped out, wincing slightly as his chest rose and fell with his ragged breathing. 

“He shot you, but the bullet went straight through,” Sam attested, reaching into his backpack for anything that could help. There was a gaping hole near Bucky’s heart, but not quite at it, which was good, except the bleeding was crazy, the skin around it red and angry, muscle pierced through and torn. Sam needed to get the wound clean, having to pour some of the faint-scented cologne that he’d brought for no reason as disinfectant and a piece of his already tattered shirt as a rag. 

No matter how badly he wanted to tough it out, Bucky couldn’t hide the sharp hiss that escaped his lips. 

“Hold still,” Sam commanded through gritted teeth, applying pressure on the wound. 

He couldn’t exactly make out what his friend and absolute royal pain was saying because his weak, tormented voice was barely above a whisper, but he knew it was a swear. Definitely meant for him, but he currently didn’t have enough brain power to reply or even be slightly offended.

He pulled out a needle and thread, thanking God a hundred times over that he’d remembered, in the haste they were in, rushing to leave, unsure they’d packed exactly everything.

“What the hell were you thinking, Bucky? Going after this nutcase alone, and you knew full-well how dangerous he was. You should’ve called for backup! Is that so hard to understand?” Sam cried, exasperated, stitching up the other man’s wound. 

“Well, I didn't die. How the hell was I supposed to know he had that stupid drug? And you know I always catch bastards like him. And me getting hurt is a goddamn occupational hazard. I let him think I was dead, anyway. This isn’t the first time I get shot, Wilson. And if I had the necessary materials with me right then, I wouldn’t have even asked you to show up,” he retorted.

Raising an irritated brow at Bucky, Sam continued stitching the wound. “Listen up. You asked for my help, even being the stubborn bastard that you are, you still did. Which means you knew you screwed up. And he got away. All because you wanted to prove something stupid to yourself,” he seethed, eyes now slits and his tone dangerously calm. Oh, he was pissed at Bucky, and he was going to let the idiot know.

“I’m entitled to my own decisions. You’re not my mum, Steve!”

At that, Sam’s eyes went wide, and for a brief moment, guilt flashed across Bucky’s features. He mentally cursed himself for being so impulsive, saying the first thing that came to his mind without thinking. 

“D-don’t call me that,” Sam snapped, finally done with his stitches. 

“I - I’m sorry,” he stated, trying his hardest to sound sincere, to let down the wall of emotionlessness he’d been forcing himself to hold up for years, or whatever it was his therapist said he should do. Sure, Sam’s worrying and mother-henning was irritating on a good day, but he cared, he was Bucky’s best friend, his brother, and he was right. He’d asked him for help, relied on him. This was supposed to be a team effort. But deep down, he really didn’t want Sam to get hurt. It was part of the reason he’d make sure to go after the criminal alone. “I didn’t want you to get hurt.”

Sam’s diamond-hard gaze softened. “It’s alright. Just don’t pull any of that crap again, good? Or I swear, I will give you a reason to be sorry.”

“Deal. Whatever you need to tell yourself to sleep at night.”

Sam rolled his eyes, but he helped him up, shaking his hand, and then he didn’t even register how or when Bucky had hugged him. It was for an extremely short amount of time, but still, Bucky wasn’t really a hugger, unless you were a stray cat, which he most definitely was not. 

Still, it meant that the ice was melting just a little bit. That their disastrous team-up was finally starting to work out. 

They went back to their current shared residence, a small apartment in a quieter part of the city, so that they could come up with a better plan with more efficient execution. They still weren’t sure exactly where to start, but something told them both that they’d catch this bastard, one way or another.

He gets on your nerves without trying. He finds a way to disagree with everything you say. It feels like you’ve been arguing with him from the beginning of time. But he is your best friend, your brother, your family, the kind that teaches you that blood never mattered in the grand scheme of things, more about a fate you do not choose, simply a circumstance. So you bear whatever it is he does because you know just how far he is willing to go with you, the precarious road he’s willing to tread. You trust him with your life more than you do yourself. And if anything were to happen to him, you’d be truly lost. A friend you live, die and kill for, without hesitation. 

♧♧♧♧♧♧♧♧♧♧♧♧♧♧♧♧♧♧

This fresh whumpy meal has been prepared by Natalia.

[ruknowhere]

Commuter Buddhist

I'm learning to be a Buddhist in my car,

listening to a book on tape. One problem

is that, before I've gotten very far,

my mind gradually becomes aware

that it has stopped listening, straying from

the task of becoming a Buddhist in my car.

I'm also worried that listening will impair

my driving, as the package label cautions,

but I haven't noticed that, at least so far.

In fact, I may be driving with more care.

There's a sensation of attentive calm

that's part of becoming a Buddhist in your car.

A soothing voice drones on until the car

is transformed into a capsule of wisdom

traveling at high speed, and you feel far

from anywhere but where you really are ...

which is nowhere, really. The biggest problem

is getting the Buddhism out of your car

and into your life. I've failed at that so far.

- Jeffrey Harrison

°

*

*

Variations to the Accompaniment of a Cloud

Because I do not hope ever again

to pass this way I sing these

notes now in silence

each in its own time

one morning near the end of spring

among the invisible unheard stars I sing

this one time with the hope that is here

in every breath

may these notes be heard another morning

in another life

in another spring together

Because I do not hope ever to pass

this way again

one morning late in spring

in the cold rain above the valley I sing

in the old house I came to in my youth

on the ridge looking over the river

a house that had been left to its own silence

for half a century

home for bats and swallows and patches

of sunlight wandering across the floors

under holes

in the roof on the day

I first saw it

and recognized it without knowing it

-W. S. Merwin

°

*

*

The Light in the Marsh Grass

was alive: small creatures aglow and crawling

one after the other down each tall green blade—

thousands of them bending at all angles—

along the quaggy edge of the salt marsh cove

the three of us had paddled our kayaks into…

luminous bits of green-gold sliding down

the myriad stalks, but inside them, as if the marsh

were sucking down the warm light through

innumerable living straws, drop after drop

in a wavering, steady, mesmerizing rhythm,

and for once no explanation we could think of

(that unseen ripples on the cove’s mirrory stillness

focused the late sunlight in eely ribbons

that scrolled down the blades of spartina)

could diminish the marvel we had chanced upon,

and we gave up trying to explain it, gave ourselves

to it—as if we had ingested some hallucinogen

that opened our eyes to what was there all along

but had gone unnoticed, each of us in our own pod

of selfhood floating on the fetid, primordial cove

now held together in awed suspension by these grasses

aswarm with lights that also flowed in waves through us,

wanting it not to stop, asking ourselves why

we’d never seen what had been going on for eons,

asking how we could keep it, and knowing we could not.

-Jeffrey Harrison

°

*

*

Spring is like a perhaps hand

(which comes carefully

out of Nowhere)arranging

a window,into which people look(while

people stare

arranging and changing placing

carefully there a strange

thing and a known thing here)and

changing everything carefully

spring is like a perhaps

Hand in a window

(carefully to

and from moving New and

Old things,while

people stare carefully

moving a perhaps

fraction of flower here placing

an inch of air there)and

without breaking anything.

e.e.cummings

°

*

*

[sw33t-oubliette]

(gripping the bathroom sink) There are lies we tell ourselves, and there are lies we tell the universe. The crew of the Aurora once used the word 'immortal' and the universe believed us - for a while. But no matter the eons, years, millennia you may live, no matter the wormholes, time jumps or parallel dimensions... all things end. And it's hard to play so much with time without learning the shape of your own end. We know where we will be when we start to slow and choose to follow Nastya into the dark. We've lived so long together, perhaps it is only fitting we die alone. Jonny dies in a barfight, on some nameless backwater asteroid. After countless lifetimes of carving through every sensation it is possible to feel, he is stabbed clean through the heart and this time, for some reason, it sticks. When he realizes what is happening, he laughs for the first time in a millennia. Witnesses will say that they have never before seen someone so viciously excited to die. When you start your existence by burning down a planet, how the hell do you end it? In Ashes' case, drunk as a skunk at the very end of time. Cast forward by some freak accident, they will watch as the stars wink out, and then they'll light a cigar - the last point of illumination in the universe - and drop the match into gasoline as a final fuck you. There is so much to know in this universe, so much to learn. But when her research has become monotonous and her observations are dull, Raphaella will decide to partake in one final experiment. Taking a fragment of the ship once known as Aurora, she will cast herself into that black hole. Beyond the event horizon there, maybe to die, maybe to learn something new one last time. Gunpowder Tim feels the end coming for a while. His aim wanders by nanometers and his explosions seem somewhat... lacklustre. And so he returns to a planet that he's been saving for a very special occasion, the one that builds the largest gunship existence will ever see, and he goes on a final rampage. Stars shatter at the thunder of his guns until, at last, he crashes into a space station. And he isn't wearing his seatbelt. Ivy will try to retire, spend her final centuries on a small library planet with those books that mean so much to her. Unfortunately, the library will do what they are so prone to and burn in a pointless war. Ivy falls launching an escape pod piled high with ancient texts that scholars will someday say were actually... quite a dull read. Marius has always approached the concept of immortality with a little bit more skepticism than the rest of us, so his end comes as less of a surprise. One day, at something of a loose end, he will decide to check on the octokittens. Unfortunately, the purring horde has not been fed in... many decades, and devours him. Head to toe. In 11.7 seconds. At least, by my watch. When the Drumbot misses his first beat, he knows exactly what it means. He considers briefly the fire and bloodshed of his compatriots, but in the end the only thing that feels right is to complete the cycle. And so he casts himself into the void. His body will float there forever, far beyond the warmth of stars. The Toy Soldier, of course, well... it was never real to begin with. And, when all its friends are finally gone, it will decide to stop pretending.  Pointless, ignoble deaths the lot of them. But who that lived can really boast otherwise? Thank you for joining us on our journey. Our bodies are still, and our blood is cold. The books are closed and our stories told. No happy ever after for a tale so old, Laid in blood when the story is done. Thank you. But - But we're not quite dead quite yet. And so, for the last time, we have one last song. 

[hope-to-hell]

Fulgurite Dreams part two: Geode.

Rated M for mildly smutty. Adrian Toomes x Reader.

———

Once upon a time, there was a vengeful man.

No, that’s not it. Try again.

Once upon a time, there was a man who did everything right but still lost.

No. Not that either. Pay attention.

Once upon a time there was an ordinary man. He scrubbed his hands with black soap in the evenings and had dreams filled with numbers winding around stone columns, of schematics, of birds, of high clouds in the moonlight. And once upon a time, that man woke up on a bright clear morning, kissed his little girl on the cheek, and went to find his fortune.

Once upon a time, that man got fucked. It wasn’t his fault— how could it be? He couldn’t have known that his big salvage job would be pulled right out from under him, but it was; all he got was a not your business any longer and that was that. Numbers crawled through his veins even as he tried and failed to keep his cool; already he could see the hole he’d be in once he paid his crew and the lenders started calling. Debt waits for no man, without a care for the hurt it brings.

But hey. We all know how it goes: Adrian Toomes got his. He took to the skies and made his fortune— and then some. He lost it, too, in a desperate move that made him reach too far; all that waited then was pain and the long monotony of prison.

Bullshit.

Say he decides that last job’s not worth the risk. Say his path forks and he goes the other way, sharing out what’s left and saying you boys have fun. Say he drops Liz and her beau off at the prom with a smile and a wave; maybe he knows what Peter’s been up to and maybe he doesn’t, but either way it doesn’t matter anymore. He gives his shovel talk and sees them off; if he goes home to hole up in his workshop long past midnight, that’s his affair.

How’d it go?

Oh, you know. Just threatened to fillet the kid if he hurts my girl.

I bet he was terrified. Now, how about you come inside and I’ll take your mind off things?

(Hey kid, you okay?

Yeah. Fine. Just got in an argument after school, is all. Doesn’t even hurt.)

He doesn’t come in with the smell of autumn clinging to his hair anymore, and the armature no longer leaves sore and roughened patches from where it pressed hard even through his leather jacket. But he rubs his stubbled cheek along your thigh just the same; he listens to the weather forecast every evening and whispers the wind’s secrets into the tender skin behind your ear. Gotta catch the updraft, sweetheart. Let it carry you; all the power in the word can’t compare to the moment you really soar.

He comes home with canvas bags full to bursting. Damn kids are asking for ratatouille, of all things.

He comes home with grease under his nails. He scrubs and scrubs and scrubs and all he says is

(No, kid. You’re not okay. Look at me. I know. I know.

Then why didn’t you say anything?

Because you have to do it. It’s in your blood.)

He comes home and makes a beeline for the workshop. When you go to find him, the car’s outside under a tarp, and inside— inside, his wings cast their angel silhouette against the wall.

Thought you were retired.

I am. But I can feel which way the wind’s blowing.

You dream of the earth splitting apart, flinging a bright moon into the sky. Fragments of stone rain down as everything becomes hot, then cold, then silent. You dream of long shadows and of Adrian’s teeth sharp like knives. You dream of your limbs bound tight, watching chaos and destruction and the eons-long reordering of the world.

The scale is never zeroed out. Its weights are always in flux, and you can either account for that or be crushed by it. Adrian breathes soft and warm against your neck; his voice is burred with sleep. Easy, sweetheart. I’m not going anywhere. His hand holds you steady as he eases inside, belly hair tickling the small of your back. Dreams don’t mean a damn thing. They’re just waypoints to get your mind from here to there. You think mountains have meaning? Or storms? They don’t care. They just are. He rolls his hips with infinite slowness, timed to the rise and fall of his chest. That’s the thing about getting older: you learn to savor what you have. And right now he has you, snug and secure in the long warm night.

Surprised you haven’t told Peter to run for the hills.

Wouldn’t make a difference if I did. He’s too damn stubborn.

Like you.

Hmph. Maybe. At least this way I can keep an eye on him. He rolls you under him and for a moment rests with his forehead against you, warm and sweat-slick and he isn’t nearly heavy enough, not with the way he holds himself up on his arms; he should be soft and weighty, all-encompassing. He should be breathing starlight into your skin; the soft rasp of his body on yours should whisper all the secrets he can’t say. And so you reach up and back to pull him down to you.

(Whether you tell her or not has to be your call. But you keep her safe, understand? Don’t bring your mess home to her.)

[dontcallmemacy]

TW: angst, MCD, angst no comfort, mentions of cancer

The cancer had come on suddenly. Kirishima smiled through it though, no matter how weak his body had become. Bakugo on the other hand, handled the news terribly. He worked overtime to ensure Kirishima got the best treatments, angrily crying every time the scans each came back worse than the last. Kirishima thought softly, remembering holding the blonde’s hand tightly as he spoke with the funeral director. He spoke of a stone, where his name would remain for eternity. Of the cedar that’d replace Katsuki’s embrace, at least for now. Of a hole made for two. Of how a love as *strong* as this, as strong as the pair could weather this storm, and how he’d wait out the rain for Katsuki to share the umbrella with him once more. So now, as he lays in this box, the darkness holding him tighter than any lover, he wonders. The sounds of his loves angry outbursts long silenced. How when the light beckoned for him, he held fast, knowing Katsuki would come for him. That this journey would be made together. That there was no other being that he wished to feel the warmth of the afterlife with. But as he lays here, the cold creeped into its place. How the angry shouts had gone from daily, to weekly, to monthly, to not at all. How the dirt shifted at the last meeting, where Katsuki cried for forgiveness. And the drifting sounds of another voice soothed him, the dirt rustling for the last time as the tears from above weighed below. And now Kirishima welcomed the darkness, eons having passed, facing the east. Facing the sunrise, waiting for his own sun who now lay towns over, facing the sun he chose instead.