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kabr0ztrousers · 7 months ago

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Kabr0z Writes Episode 3: A very bad idea, part 1

Find yesterday's entry here

CWs: usual gratuitous sex scene; demon summoning; serious dubcon, probably noncon when you think about it; heavy cumflation; horror themes; hyper-genitals; it's a lot today, folks

Author's note: Jesus H Christ this one got away from me. It gets good after about halfway but I feel like I spent too long setting up. Ah well, live and learn. I'm also trying something a little new where I'm linking the next few episodes together, so this one, episode 4, and episode 5 will follow on from one another.

There's basically no plot, so do what you want with that, but it's a fun thought.

With that aside, enjoy!

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It was a bit of a tradition now, whenever Heather was in town you'd get the lowest-rated book on a topic from the internet and take the piss out of it over a few bottles of your favourite red wine. Well, this week the wheel had spun, and landed on Demonology as a topic.

You thought about just saying screw it, and choosing another, but as you browsed the web for a terrible book, you saw it: "My First Book of Shadows" by Creedle and Crabnuts. The store listing alone was comical, from the pictures it looked like it had been printed out at home, badly trimmed to size and haphazardly stapled together. It was perfect. Two minutes later, and £5 lighter, it was on its way, predicted to arrive a couple of nights before her.

You leafed through the book when it arrived, barely a magazine really, and saw it contained what purported to be step-by-step directions to call forth a denizen of Hell, including a list of materials and guides to pronounce the chants.

Something about it... It called to you.

You don't know what came over you, but before you knew it you were walking around the high street, gathering incense sticks, candles, chalk, and a razor-sharp knife.

Heather arrived at your door on Friday evening, you had the house to yourself until at least Sunday afternoon and so we're busy in the living room. Your hands were covered in chalk dust in shades of white, blue, purple and red. The incense smoke was already filling the whole house with heady aromas of bergamot, cloves, camphor and myrrh.

She knocked again, snapping you out of your reverie. Still dressed in your dressing gown (robes are expensive, it turns out) you flung open the door and hugged your friend tight. "I have a surprise for you!"

"What? You've had the place fumigated?" Heather laughed, her voice lilting and sweet in the chill of the fading light.

"Better, come and see" you grabbed her by the hand and took her into the room where your circle lay, half finished, on the laminate floor

"Taken up a cult?" Heather's laughter hadn't stopped yet, then she saw the book open on the floor "Or started without me?" Mock-pouting now as she opened a bottle and started to pour the wine

You lent Heather your other bathrobe and as she pulled it on you couldn't help but see a small pile of her other clothes in the corner. Was she wearing anything under there? You guessed it fits the theme, and you'd been half hoping tonight would take that turn anyway, so you didn't say anything.

Together, you worked on the circle, both on hands and knees to trace the delicate runes and lines onto the ground. A few times Heather's gown rode up and the sight of her pink lower lips told you that, yes, she was completely naked under there.

You finished up, and knelt at opposite sides of the floor, gazing into the circle you'd drawn. Maybe a little smudged in places, but you weren't expecting anything to really happen as you recited the chants. The unfamiliar words felt strange to get your mouth around. As you came to the last few syllables you could have sworn the candles flickered, the incense grew more intense, the chalk lines began to smoulder. You raised the knife in your right hand and drew the point across your left.

That's when you realised your mistake.

The first drops of blood began to boil on your palm. The room became hot, and dry, like a desert wind blowing in your face. Gone were the scents of the incense, replaced with the smell of hot metal, searing meat, ozone, blood.

A noise, somehow the opposite of a bang. A dazzling flash. The guttering candles now ablaze and belching thick, black smoke that billowed down their sides like tar. You could see the fear in Heather's eyes, but neither of you could move. You were transfixed by what had appeared in the centre of the circle.

Too tall, too skinny, it hovered 6 inches off the ground. Spindly legs, 4 spindly arms, pencil-necked and sharp faced. Bald and with curved metal shards forming a shattered halo above its head. It blinked its four angular eyes and spoke with a voice that somehow echoed before you heard it

"Hail! I am Simizel! Viscount of the pit of Ashen Despair, Lord Commander of the seventeenth regiment of the Damned. Who are you to call me?"

You struggled to make any noise, throat dry and gasping for air. Simizel looked around at both of you, then down at the circle below him. "Wait, that's not right" he mused, "That's nonsense, that's spelled wrong, that's right, but in the wrong place, and..."

He looked at you

"It's a little irregular to ask, but what binding spell did you two use?" He was still looking at the ground quizzically as you rose to your feet

"Binding spell?" You croaked, eyes streaming

"Yes, to bind me, you know, so I don't just kill you both and go home?"

His eyes widened and his mouth grew into a wide smirk as he realised what had happened. He reached for the crumpled and charring pamphlet on the floor and skimmed it.

His smirk turned to a chuckle, then a laugh, then a cackle

"By my name! Someone thought they were very clever, didn't they?" He either couldn't disguise his mirth, or wasn't trying very hard "You just copied out any old rubbish and slit yourself open!"

A wave of his hand. You and Heather were floating in front of him now. "I haven't been amused like this in centuries. For being such fun, I'll give you girls some gifts"

He flicked his wrist and both of your gowns burned away, leaving you naked and glistening with sweat and fear

"First, if you want to try this again in the future, do it properly." He gestures at the book and it burns away, replaced with a wax-sealed scroll "That will summon an old friend of mine, just break the seal, read the words, and out he will come"

"Next, I'll make sure I don't leave behind any cambions" His clawed fingers etched patterns into your and Heather's skin. You tried to struggle against the pain, but your body was under his spell. In a few moments of etching, he had carved glowing sigils into the flesh just above each of your pubic bones.

He smiled, almost warmly, "Knowledge, and a boon, normally gifts like these would cost a soul, but I feel generous tonight, so I will simply take my fill of your bodies."

The spell keeping you aloft broke, and you dropped to the floor in a heap. You looked up at him and wondered how you could have missed it: between his pale thighs hung a pendulous, rapidly hardening cock. Your belly began to ache and your mouth water. What had come over you?

You started to crawl over to him, dimly aware Heather was doing the same next to you. Reaching up for this amazing rod as it grew longer and thicker than any human would have, flared at the head like a horse's and knotted at the base. You weren't sure how it was going to fit inside you

You knew you were going to make it.

You started kissing the end, as Heather began sucking on his gravid balls, each one the size of a grapefruit. Simizel cradled your face in his hand, fingers still bloody from marking you, then lifted you up with a gesture.

Upside-down now, you could see a rope of glittering precum hanging from his cock as it pulsed against your lips. You held out your tongue to try and taste it.

As soon as your lips parted it was in your mouth. You felt like your jaw would break. You didn't care. His tongue was at your pussy, licking your clit furiously and making you shake. You tensed up as you came, hips bucking against his face.

He pushed you down. The too-thick cock forcing its way down your throat and making you gag. You couldn't breathe. You still didn't care. You didn't care as you felt somehow even more tongues at your clit, invading your pussy, pushing into your asshole

He started thrusting. You felt as though you could split in half. Some dark power was keeping you conscious as you felt the end of his cock moving up and down in your belly. The thrusting got harder and faster until the knot was driven past your lips and started swelling in your mouth.

His tongues were still at your cunt. Your body squeezing against him as repeated orgasms rocked you. You could feel yourself squirting fluid into his face as he fucked your mouth open even wider

His cock must have been in your stomach now, bottoming out and stuck in you. You could feel it pulsing and could see his balls pumping in front of your face as your belly began to swell with the volume of fluid gushing into you. You tried to scream, in pain, in ecstasy, you're not sure, but the vast mass stuffed inside you prevented any sound escaping.

Heather was still cradling his balls in her hands as she kissed you, licking the base of his cock where it was jammed into your face, tasting where his fluids were leaking out of the sides of your mouth. Her eyes were empty but for lust as she rubbed her hands over her clit, her hips bucking erratically

The knot began to loosen and pull away from you. You felt hands on your hips lifting you from the demonic shaft as it pumped ever more into you, until it slipped free. You saw it hang, still pumping potent demon-seed and painting your friend's naked body in sticky, viscous white as she screamed her way to another full-body orgasm.

The world came back into relief and you realised you were panting and moaning, the tongues bringing you to your peak again and again. Pain rocked your body in between waves of pleasure as you came over and over, cum leaking from your mouth and throat as Heather stood below.

The demon wasted no time, repositioning himself under the two of you on the floor, one pair of impossibly strong hands on your hips as you rode his face, the other positioning your friend's ass over his impossible cock, still leaking and pulsing.

You heard her gasp and call out as it entered her ass, stretching her out and filling her immediately. Again and again he pushed in, her belly growing larger and larger with the size of him and the fluids he emitted. Your orgasmic cried mingled as your mind blanked and you passed out.

You don't know how long it was having its way with Heather, but when you came to you were lay on the floor watching it pull out of her pussy, her ass and throat leaking fluids and her gurgling moans of pleasure filling your ears.

Simizel looked at you and you wordlessly rolled onto your back, legs opened for him. He strode over to you, leaving your friend lying on her side in a pool of his semen and her own squirt.

He loomed over you and pressed himself against your aching hole. You gasped as it pushed in, stretching you around its immense girth. He was at your cervix already, and showed no signs of stopping. You screamed out as it pushed deeper in, lubricating its movement with a neverending stream of thick cum. Your eyes rolling as your orgasm rocked you again and again until he was again at the hilt. You weren't sure how much longer you could take it as he pumped litre after litre into you, the fluids spraying out of you even despite the knot holding him into you.

You passed out again.

This time you woke up and he was gone. Heather was where he left her. Sunlight was starting to eke in through the drawn curtains. You felt your belly, round and full, it sloshed around as you moved towards the bathroom to expel as much of the spunk left in your ass and your cramping womb as you could.

As you stood you felt the mark he left on your skin, it wasn't glowing now but still remained, red and cauterised by the heat of his claws.

You heard movement, Heather was awake and groaning. Her eyes met yours. They were still empty, there wasn't anything there but lurid desire. Your heart dropped as you lamented what he had done to her, before you realised where she was moving to

The scroll

She broke the wax and opened the paper before you could reach her on your shaking legs. She read the words and the walls began to shift.

A purple light suffused the room

You weren't done yet.

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catcze · 2 years ago

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⠀「 Kisses to chase away the nightmares 」

Reblogs are greatly appreciated !!

[ Reader wakes up from a nightmare. Lots and lots of comfort ensues. ]

Aight. Had a Day™️ at work so this is what we're eating today

You sit up with a gasp, eyes wide and feeling lightheaded. The blanket is crushed to your chest, the hands that grip it shaking like a leaf. Each breath that leaves you is gasping and every inhale is no better— ragged gulps of air that practically sting your lungs with each mouthful that you swallow down. You're borderline frantic, eyes trying desperately to blink away the haze in your mind. You shiver.

Too cold. The air is too cold.

But that's something, isn't it? That you can feel the cold. That you can feel the scratch of the sheets under you, that you can hear the whirr of the air conditioning. It means that you're awake. That this is real. Not a dream.

That's the first thought that brings you even the slightest of comfort, that makes your racing heart calm just a little. Barely.

But your head is stuffed with cotton. The world feels muted, as if you've got water stuck in your ear. Your hands are still shaking. You look around— the bed is cold aside from where you've been laying down.

"Babe?" you call out quietly, in case he's nearby. No response. You swallow. Your heart is aching and thrumming in your chest, pushing you forward to find him right now. To ask for a hug. A kiss. Comfort. Anything.

You toss the sheets off, shivering when the cold air licks you and just manage to remember to put on your slippers before you head out the bedroom door.

Even so late at night, you find him in his office, eyes scanning over a sheet of paper with a thoughtful frown on his face.

You hesitate just beyond the crack in the door, peeking into the light of his office from the shadows of the hallway. Unsureness takes a hold of you, squeezing you painfully until you feel wrung-out and like this was just a stupid idea.

He's busy. Clearly he is. And it must be important too, if he's up so late fretting about it. You shift on your feet, swallowing, about to close the door back up.

This was a stupid idea, you think, deflating. You can just... bury yourself under the blankets. Maybe watch some animal videos. Hope that you fall asleep before he finishes and wonders why you're still up so late at night.

"You've been standing in the doorway for five minutes," he suddenly says, gentle but all-too-loud in the dead of the night. You freeze.

When you look back at him from behind the doorframe, he's already dropped his pen and paper back on the desk. All his focus is on you, and there's a worried crease to his brow.

He notes the shaky way you stand, how you worry the inside of your cheek. No doubt he can see the way you fiddle with the edge of your (his) sleeping shirt, too.

"What's wrong?" he asks, already getting out of his seat. His worry propels him forward, making him reach you at the doorway before you can even step foot inside the office.

You look away. "It's nothing. It's dumb, now that I think of it."

He clicks his tongue in disagreement, his hand reaching for yours and weaving your fingers together. "Try me, honey."

"... I had a nightmare."

There's a gentle squeeze on your hand, encouragement to keep going.

You take a breath. "I... can't remember what it was about. I just know I felt sick when I woke up. And I didn't want to be alone. I don't want to be alone."

He hums, rubbing soothing circles on the back of your hand with his thumb. "I don't want you to be alone, either," he says softly, and your heart practically melts.

"Do you want to try to go back to sleep?" he asks. "I can accompany you." You can already see him reaching for the lightswitch with his other hand, but you shake your head.

"I don't want to pull you away from your work—" he opens his mouth to protest, the I'm just about finished, anyway undoubtedly on the tip of his tongue. "And I don't think i can fall asleep yet either," you admit. "Can I just... stay with you for now?"

He smiles at you, small and sweet. "If that's what you want, who am I to say no?"

With ease, he tugs you back towards his desk, making sure to close the door behind you. You expect him to pull out a chair for you or to lift you and deposit you on the edge of his deks, but instead he sits back down in his seat and gracefully sweeps you off your feet to place you in his lap. All you can do is gasp in surprise, head a little too fogged up to really register it until your legs are swung over one of the armrests and your head is tucked below his chin.

"This wasn't really what I was expecting," you laugh, and he stares at you questioningly.

"Does it make you uncomfortable?"

"Mm, no. Didn't say that." As if to prove a point, you lean further into his chest, closing your eyes as you bask in the warmth of his body heat like a cat napping in the sun. You can feel the rumble of his chuckle under your ear.

His arm snakes around your middle, holding you to him, and a kiss is pressed to the crown of your head. Despite your earlier claims, your eyelids are growing traitorously heavy and your limbs are becoming more sluggish by the second. It must be how warm he is, you think. Well, either that or you just instinctively know that you're safe in his arms.

"Feel free to fall asleep," he murmurs, just low enough for you to catch. "I'll carry you back if you do."

You try not to yawn, burying your face in his chest. "Mmkay. You better not draw on my face or something while I'm asleep."

He has to hold back a laugh— it's good to see you joking around. Good to feel the tremble in your body lessen with each passing second. Good to feel you fitted up against him like a perfect puzzle piece.

"I wouldn't dream of it."

You yawn again, bigger this time and more insistent. The edges of your vision grows darker, sleep claiming you sooner than you thought. "Thanks," you manage to say just before you begin to drift off. "Love you."

He hums, rubbing a hand over your back, soothing you further as your breaths even out.

"Of course," he says quietly. Softly. "I love you too. Sleep well, dearest."

[ — Wriothesley, Neuvillette, Ayato, Diluc, Cyno, Kaveh, Albedo, Zhongli ]

[ #Taglist registration here !! ]

#astronetwrk #genshin impact x reader #wriothesley x reader #neuvillette x reader #kamisato ayato x reader #diluc x reader #cyno x reader #kaveh x reader #albedo x reader #zhongli x reader #diluc ragnvindr x reader

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dotcie · 7 months ago

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MDNI | simon 'ghost' riley x afab!reader | no use of y/n, no mention of name, weight, hair style, or skin colour | use of nickname "dove" | ghost fucks you on shepherds desk. that‘s it.

The scream that climbs out of your lungs dies unaired, against rough skin, and the world explodes into motion.

You bite down on the bare palm covering your mouth, elbows digging into the body that traps you in place. Feet shuffle, and before you can even get your bearings enough to tap into your training to fight back, you're dragged into the closest room.

The door is pulled shut behind you, latching with a quiet little click, and you're spun around to face your opponent—back slamming against the slab of wood blocking your freedom. It takes you more seconds of struggling to recognise that the hand over your mouth is accompanied by familiar tattoos and that the man in front of you is, indeed, Simon.

"Don't scream," he says, all casual and loose.

His lips quirk with an utterly devilish smirk once he lets go of you, and your clenched fists crash down onto his chest immediately; trying to push him away, to make it hurt. You shove at him, aim for his face, but he doesn't yield—just grabs your wrists mid air like it's nothing.

"You fuck—fucking psychopath!" you spit, pulling and puffing in his tight grip, but he doesn't let go.

"Hey, hey—" Simon begins instead, voice growing softer, but he's laughing, and the sound of it is laced with a gravity that draws an ache into the rhythm of your own heartbeat.

"Let go of me!"

He slightly tilts his head as he stares down on you, gaze raking over your face as if he is searching for something—how serious you are, maybe. An indicator of how upset you are, perhaps. His eyes linger on the slight frown curving the corners of your lips and the anger in your eyes. You stare back fiercely, heart caught in your throat.

"Sorry," he says, the shadow of a grin ghosting over his lips as he finally lets go of you.

"I'm going to kill you," you snarl back, palming your wrist.

"Y'wouldn't be the first to try, dove."

He says it in that same monotone manner he always does, and you heave a deep sigh, tipping your head back against the door for an agonizing beat—as though you're horribly exhausted by this little game of his.

Yet, he seems unmoved, his eyes unreadable. You've gritted your teeth for years at his silence, just to now drag it on out of spite.

You let your eyes roam through the dark room you've been dragged into. Ceiling-high bookshelves, expensive leather chairs, and a solid wood desk fill the room. There's no question that this must be Shepherd's office, and you swallow the question of how Simon managed to get in here. When you shake your head at him in silence disapproval instead, he blinks back at you unmoved.

It's the first time you get a good look at him since you left him in Brixton. He's in a plain, dark blue uniform, a row of medals clinging to the left side of his left chest. It's been a while since you've seen him in formal attire, and your eyes linger a little bit too long on his broad frame before they move up and take in his scarred face. The jaw you know, the crooked nose, the dark eyes that often carry a brutal, pale expression—now looking down on you soft and open.

"No mask, huh?" You hate how the words come out low and peeved, an exhale that flutters like a leaf carried adrift by strong winds.

"They said it'd be unbecoming to the other guests."

You laugh, just a breath, and your face crumples into a hundred shades of grief with it. The way his voice folds gently around your name immediately makes everything much worse.

"Look, y'told me not to contact you, and I didn't, alright, but we're both here and—shite, I dunno. Maybe it's the alcohol, maybe—"

"How much have you been drinking?"

"Lost count. It's Johnny's fault, really—you look stunning, have I told you yet?"

"You did." — "Good."

You freeze as he steps closer, but you don't pull away. Simon lets his touch linger, slowly skimming his fingertips over your jaw. He catches the way your breath quickens, and how your gaze flickers to his lips. You swallow hard, trying to breathe past the sudden thundering of your heart against your ribs. The flare of heat that sears through your veins is a warning, and the familiar longing cleaving you in two is just as sharp and unforgiving. You make an annoyed face at him for it, wanting to claw at his face and rip his clothes off at the same time.

"Let me kiss you," he murmurs, touching you like it's a question.

Your heart is in the back of your throat. Although you try to swallow it, your voice comes out as little more than a whisper. "Simon, I—"

He moves anyway, bridges the gap between you, and your hands move to his chest. Your breath catches and tangles up in your ribs, like it's the first time you've ever been here, the first time he's looking at you with this intensity that's palpable, that's alive and tangible and real.

Your hands on his chest curl into fists. "C'mon, don't do this, we talked about—"

He doesn't let you finish, kissing the words right out of your mouth.

Simon pours all his feelings— every drop of love he holds for you in his heart, every last fraying thread of longing, everything—into the kiss. You tremble under the warmth of his lips, cursing yourself for giving in, for meeting him here alone. You're not a good person—you are a terrible person, and you're not going to stop, because now Simon is sucking in your bottom lip, and inching his hands up your thighs, up over your hips, palming your ass, and it feels good and it is terrible and he wants you just like this, and you—

Simon picks you up by the thighs, and there's no room in your head to protest; you wrap your arms and legs around him instead, deepening the kiss like you're starved for it. He crosses the room effortlessly, kicking a chair out of the way with his foot with a screech, before setting you down on the cool surface of Shepherd's desk.

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waynes-multiverse · 6 months ago

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Lover – Part 2

Series Summary: Free from his past, Ben’s trying to move on and find a little drop of happiness in this new world. But when he finally holds everything he ever wanted in his hands, it threatens to slip through the cracks, and he has to fight one final time with everything he’s got to keep it.

🫡 Catch up here! Sequel to Rehab & Video Games.

Pairing: Soldier Boy/Ben x female!Reader

Warnings: 18+ due to language & mature themes, established relationship, Soldier Boy x wife!reader, human!Soldier Boy, angst with a side of hurt/comfort, sickness & generally gross descriptions thereof (the Gen V virus says hello 👋 – with minor adjustments), tw: mentions of euthanasia & suicide, sprinkles of fluff between

Word Count: 4.5k

A/N: Don't read too much into the whole virus situation, guys. I promise this is a full fix-it, and that annoying little bug is just how we're gonna do that 😜 Come tomorrow, all's well because we all know the V stands for... I do this joke every year, don't I? Never mind! Happy reading! 💕

Main Masterlist || Series Masterlist || Tag List

Part 2: Lovesick

Ben’s worried. Y/N keeps saying she’s fine.

They stroll through the supermarket. Benny pushes the cart in front of them, racing down the aisles.

She woke up this morning around eleven o’clock after a thirteen-hour sleep. He’d held a small mirror under her nose several times at night to assure himself she was still breathing. She never woke up. She’d looked so peaceful it had almost been creepy.

She also sweat through her sheets and jittered like a leaf in the wind. He tried to hold her when she was freezing and gave her distance when she was ablaze. In those breaks, he scoured the Internet for answers and tried to keep his frustrations over it quiet with little grunts and a deeply creased brow.

The hard lines on his face are still there, though. They never left.

Ben isn’t entirely clueless, however. Sure, he’s spent some four decades locked away, then came back for a short period of time to a world he can barely understand, only to be put to sleep and experimented on some more for a couple of years. People don’t really expect him to follow the news at this point, and they’re not wrong in their assumption – he rarely ever gives a shit.

But he remembers how she’d given him an update of the world’s dire state when he’d first gotten to the clinic. She’d mentioned a virus – one designed to kill any supes. The plan was to wipe everyone out. Biological warfare, they’d called it. It hadn’t come as a surprise to Ben. He’d seen this all before. Hell, he’d even helped with some of those things back in his glory days.

The virus had been one more reason, one more need for the cure. It had been the perfect deal: If you can’t kill ‘em, cure ‘em. But once that infectious little vial was opened, well, it had been hard to put the genie back inside.

The cure acted as both a vaccine and a remedy against the virus. Soon, the pesky little thing was pushed back but was never quite eradicated. It had eventually slowed its progression but never became any less deadly.

Now, instead of quick and painless, there was agonizing and torturous.

But Y/N can’t take the cure. He might as well kill her this second out of mercy.

When she woke up from her beauty sleep this morning, she admittedly looked better. She said she felt better. Ben still didn’t believe her. She barely touched her food, picked at her breakfast, and ended up only eating the leftover crusts of their son’s toast. He watched her from his periphery as he nursed his coffee in the kitchen, stoically worrying more.

Y/N coughs once more next to him as they pass the frozen food aisle. Ben eyes her cautiously. She’s done it all morning. He doesn’t know what to do, doesn’t know how to help her or how to stop it. Not even the blue vial could help him fix it. He doesn’t even know if it’s real yet. Is it normal? Is he overreacting?

She coughs again. He shakes his head and bites his tongue.

“You okay?” he checks gruffly, his voice thick with tension and concern, but he already expects her answer.

“I told you not to worry. I’m alright,” she says, her throat dry and her voice coarse. Her words are meant to soothe her husband. She can see the worry shimmering in his juniper eyes. She’s lucky he’s not a supe anymore, or he would’ve gone nuclear a while ago.

And admittedly, she knows she might be in denial. If true, it seems like a cruel trick the universe is playing on her. Giving her all she’s ever wanted and take it away immediately after? It definitely feels like a cosmic joke all the Gods are laughing about.

But deep down, she knows it’s true. She knows she’s screwed, but she doesn’t know how to tell Ben. He’ll lose his shit. She knows he’s not built for this.

She coughs again into a used tissue, which she has stored in her pocket since last night. Her tongue tastes something metallic – copper and iron. And when her eyes land on the white cloth, they notice spots of a deep, scarlet red.

She stops walking then and swallows thickly, her hands trembling as her eyes transfix on the blood. Ben halts as well when he realizes she’s not moving. He sees the panic in her face, sees she’s a lot paler now than the night before. Her skin looks clammy, her eyes red, weary, and dazed as if she had just taken a hard hit from one of his blunts.

“What’s wrong?” Ben asks and steps closer. He cocks his head at her, the creases of his brow now harsh lines. She seems out of it, confused. She doesn’t even seem to understand his question, let alone be capable of answering.

Her mouth opens, but instead of words, she only inhales shakily like it’s the last breath she’ll ever take. Ben barely reaches her fast enough when her eyes roll back into her head till there’s only shining white and her knees begin to buckle.

Ben pulls the knitted wool blanket up to her shoulders and gently kisses her temple. It’s been two hours since she’s fainted in the supermarket, and she’s still burning up.

He caught her just in time before her head hit the linoleum. He shooed away a group of concerned strangers that had gathered around them, assuring them that his wife was fine and just experiencing a minor dizzy spell. He sold it with a humorous eye roll and chuckled the word “women” before grabbing the kid and carrying her quickly out of the store and into the car. If she hadn’t been out cold, he’s certain he would’ve heard several objections to that comment.

Ben knows he can’t take her to a hospital, however. No one knows she’s a supe, and these days, they don’t receive the best treatment – too many bridges burnt after Homelander’s reign of terror. People have become angry, fearful, and distrustful.

Again, he feels a little responsible. He’s sure Soldier Boy had laid some groundwork for that, too.

Softly, the door to their bedroom clicks shut, her phone in his hand as he searches her contacts. His shoulders tense as he reaches the one he needs. His jaw tightens as he holds it to his ear and waits for an answer.

“Hey, I figured you’d call. Already fed up with the wrinkly dick and coming back?” Victoria Neuman’s voice sounds through the speaker, causing Ben’s hair to stand up on its ends.

Chalk on fucking board, he thinks and bites the anger back. He hates talking to that bitch, hates being nice, and hates asking for favors. But he swallows the acrimony down for the sake of his wife.

“It’s me,” Ben grits and feels his jaw beginning to ache. Why the fuck does everything hurt all the time? It’s something he figures he’ll never get used to – every time his back cracks and creaks in the mornings.

“You have exactly five seconds to tell me she’s not locked up in your basement before I make a few calls and let hellfire rain down on you, you decrepit piece of antiquity,” she bites her threat, but Ben can hear the concern in her voice, although he doesn’t give it too much weight. She’s probably faking it like her orgasms.

“Look, I wouldn’t fucking call if it wasn’t serious, you cunt,” Ben snaps and squeezes his eyes shut, rubbing the surge of fury and impatience out of his temples.

His admission causes a beat of silence on the other end. “What’s going on?” Neuman then finally asks and swallows down her own snarky remarks.

Ben licks his chapped lips before pushing the words out. “She’s-… she’s sick.”

There’s another long pause. “She can’t be sick. She’s a supe.”

“I fucking know that.”

“Shit.”

“Yeah…”

They both sigh (and both hate that they have something in common).

“I-… I have the cure,” Ben says and bites down on his tongue immediately after. He doesn’t want to show her all his cards.

“You can’t give it to her. It’s going to kill her,” Victoria reminds him firmly.

“The fucking virus is gonna kill her too, right?” Ben’s eyes drop to the floorboards that hold the solution to all his problems underneath.

“Yeah, it is,” Victoria admits. “What are her symptoms? You sure she’s not just pregnant?”

“I fucking hope not.” There’s a sentence he never expected to say. But– “I haven’t fucking cum inside of her for months.”

“Charming,” Neuman retorts on the other end.

“Wait, do you fucking know something? Did she cheat on me?” The grip around the phone in his hand tightens. Was that why she forgave him so fast and said she believed him?

“Unfortunately, no,” Victoria replies with obvious disappointment. Ben refrains from releasing the sigh of relief he feels. “Believe me, I’ve tried to get her cockdrunk on someone else…”

If Ben still had super-strength, he would’ve crushed the goddamn phone in his hand. Instead of exploding, he closes his eyes and takes a deep fucking breath, though. Ten… nine… eight… Where’s your happy place?

“Why the fuck are you calling me? What do you want?” Victoria’s voice snaps him out of his fatal fantasies of tearing her limbs off one by one.

“What d’you got in your labs? You gotta have a new cure, a new sample, fucking something,” Ben says but doesn’t even know what he’s asking. He’s grasping at straws, hoping to stumble upon an answer.

“If they’d found something, I would’ve already given it to her,” Neuman says.

“You fucking sure about that?” Ben doesn’t believe a drop of what she’s telling him.

“Yes,” Victoria still insists. “Look, before you give it to her, I’ll ask around, make a few calls, okay? See if there’s any possibilities to stop this.”

Ben’s hands tremble, his jaw quivers as he desperately tries to steady himself. “Thank you, fucking hurry,” he forces out in a murmur and immediately hangs up.

Y/N stretches with a grumbling sigh as his hand gently caresses her head. He presses his lips to her burning temple, her weary eyes fluttering open.

“Hey, my love,” Ben says, his deep voice soft as if he’s singing her a lullaby. “How are you feeling?”

She yawns and fights back the sleep in her eyes. “Still tired.”

“You’ve been sleeping for five hours,” he tells her and watches as she curls into the couch cushions with a coughing fit. He lowers down to the carpeted floor, stroking her back till she strenuously takes a breath again. “I think we need to talk about it now.”

Slowly, she meets his gaze, and he sees the fear shimmering in her eyes behind a thin veil of tears. She knows what this is, what her body is fighting, and Ben wonders how long she’s known without saying anything. He guesses she knew right from the start. Sometimes, he forgets he likes to pretend she isn’t really smarter than him.

But then, the fear morphs to determination. She nods, swallowing. “The gun’s in the safe in the closet.”

“I know where the fuck it is,” Ben grits, his brow densely creasing with a mix of confusion and angry suspicion. “What exactly do you think I’m gonna fucking do with it?”

“Shoot me.”

Her eyes are steady and firm, his voice is sterner.

“No.”

The word booms through the living room, threatening to quake the earth and shake books off their shelves.

“Ben–“

“You fucking listen to me, I’m not fucking killing you. End of discussion,” he snaps furiously. She’s not sure she’s ever seen him this angry before – not even when she said they should consider a divorce. Although, this seems to be a different kind of anger – one that cuts deeper.

“Sid shot Nancy,” she says quietly, hoping it appeals to him in some dark, ironic twist.

“She was stabbed, and they could never fucking pin it on him,” Ben shuts her argument down. “Ain’t fucking happening. I’m sorry, but you’re not gonna be the last person on my kill list, love.”

She forces a wry but weak smile. “It’d be a mercy killing. Euthanasia.”

“I’m familiar with the fucking concept,” Ben huffs tiredly. His hand then dives into the pocket of his sweats and pulls out a small vial that holds yellow liquid.

Her lips part in shock as her eyes fix on the familiar cure in his grasp. “How long have you–“

“Stole it from that black site while you and that Neuman cunt were busy yapping about policies,” Ben explains. “I also took something blue. Figured I could use it at some point.”

“Still wanna be Soldier Boy, huh?” Her voice sounds almost bitter, mocking. A small part of her has always hoped she’d be enough for him someday. That he didn’t need the fame, the money, and the fake heroics. That he’d love himself enough to not rely on a façade.

“No,” he replies to her surprise and watches her straighten a bit on the couch. “I’d fucking do it for you.”

“I don’t want that,” she tells him firmly, hoping he still remembers her words even when she’s gone.

“I know that. Why the fuck do you think I haven’t done it yet?” Ben says with a raised brow and as much patience as he can find within himself. Chats like these aren’t his strong suit.

“So, this is your idea?” She cocks an eyebrow at the vial in his hand, her look pointed. “You don’t wanna kill me quickly, but you’d rather watch me die in fucking slow-motion?”

“It’s better than nothing,” Ben argues, the lines on his freckled face hardening again. Why does she have to be so fucking stubborn all the time?

Ironically, she thought the same thing about her husband.

“For who? You?! You can’t be that fucking selfish,” she spits and rises from the couch with a shaking head.

“Funny. I was just about to say the same fucking thing to you,” he returns with the same fire.

She thunders into the bedroom and slams the door shut before he hears her rummaging through the closet. Annoyed, he rolls his eyes once the first expletives bleed through.

“Where’s the fucking gun?” she snaps as soon as the door flies open again.

“Already hid it somewhere you won’t fucking find it,” he answers slyly and purses his lips as she storms past him into the kitchen.

She lets out a deep sigh of frustration when she finds both the knife block and drawers empty. “Seriously? Did you fucking baby-proof the house while I was asleep?!”

“Well, if you’re behaving like a fucking baby…” he retorts and patiently follows her frantic steps. “You also won’t find fucking scissors and pills, either.”

“Ironic coming from you,” she scoffs, opening and shutting cabinet doors in the desperate search for something strong enough to put her out of her goddamn misery.

“Yeah, how do you think I knew which shit to hide, huh?” he asks rhetorically and takes a careful step closer, cornering her between counters and appliances. “Would you stop that now and fucking talk to me?”

“You don’t wanna talk to me,” she retorts. “You just wanna fucking pump me full of poison, so you get to feel fucking good about yourself again.”

“You think that’s it? I’m fucking jealous?” He arches a brow and crosses his muscular arms over his broad chest, his offense hiding behind amusement.

“Aren’t you?” she bites back.

“Is that you or the fucking V talking, huh?” Ben has never said it out loud before, but he hated how that blue shit changed her. Sure, it only amplified certain parts of her that he supposes have always been there, but it made her less caring, more arrogant, too.

“It’s me, you asshole,” she snarls.

The look on her face breaks his heart into a million pieces. He almost doesn’t recognize her anymore, and he knows reaching any sense of clarity or humanity within her is impossible at this point.

“You sure about that?”

She doesn’t reply, just shakes her head at him and opens the fridge. Her shoulders still for a second, and Ben knows at that moment she’s found something and is thinking of a plan to outfox him.

His gaze swerves to the full beer bottle that has found its way into her hand. She’s quick when she breaks it forcefully against the countertop, the golden-brown liquid splashing onto the floor. But Ben’s faster and bruisingly clutches her wrist, spinning her to face him. Tears sting her eyes as she fights against his hold. Ben knows she’s not using her full strength on him, though, and is almost curious as to why.

He’s not sure Soldier Boy would’ve shown the same hesitant restraint, even if it had been her.

“What the fuck are you doing? Let me fucking go,” she grits through her teeth.

Ben only shakes his head, his gaze on her stern as he tightens his grip around her wrist.

“You want me to fucking melt you into a puddle?” she threatens.

“Fucking do it,” he challenges her defiantly without a blink of a single eye. “If you wanna do this, you’re gonna have to step over my fucking body first, ‘cause there’s no way I’m letting this hand go unless you drop that fucking bottle. What’s it gonna be?”

Her nostrils flare in sync with the heavy rising and falling of her chest, her glare deadly. Slowly and mutinously, she opens each finger till the bottle crashes to the floor and shatters into sharp daggers at their feet. As soon as his grasp on her loosens, she breaks down and falls into his arms, sobbing against his chest.

He feels a flood of relief rush through his body. Thank fucking God, because he’s totally been bluffing.

He wraps his arms tighter around her, holds her closer, and nuzzles his face into her hair. “I know. It’s okay, sweetheart…”

“I’m fucking scared, Ben,” she cries, and he swallows the thick lump in his throat and forces his own tears back into his skull.

“I know, I know…” He cradles her head, resting his chin on her crown. “You know, admittedly, I’m-… I’m a little scared, too.”

She peels from his chest and meets his forest green eyes, amusement dancing on her lips. “Well, I’m glad you’re not a cold-hearted psychopath.”

Ben curls his lips, cheeks reddening. This is what he gets for opening up. “It’s my job as your husband to take care of you. Be a strong front.”

She rolls her eyes back dramatically and groans into his shirt. “You know, it doesn’t make you less of a man for feeling things.” She teasingly grins up at him. “In fact, I think only guys with the biggest dicks can pull it off.”

His lips tug at a smile. “I know what you’re doing.”

She locks her arms around his neck and pulls herself to his height for a scorching kiss. And Ben can’t fight the feeling this is meant to be their last one.

“Don’t get weird when I’m gone, okay?” she tells him then, and it feels like the beginning of a list of last wishes. “No reverting back to full asshole. No blue shit.”

“Christ, you’re not fucking dying,” Ben replies, his deep voice calm but firm.

“Ben, denial will only make it worse,” she says, her heart cracking at the forlorn look on his face. “You can’t fix this. There’s nothing you can do. It’s okay.”

Ben shakes his head wordlessly, and she knows the conversation is about to be over. There really isn’t more she can do, either.

“C’mon, let’s get you back to bed. You need some rest,” Ben says and already scoops her into his arms before she can respond.

Y/N’s head rests on his broad and bare chest as he holds her tightly in his arms. The skin-to-skin contact seems to soothe her, which is good because he plans to never let her go. If he just keeps her here right next to him, she’ll be fine. She won’t leave him.

She’s talked some when she wasn’t out like a light, but Ben could tell her mind was getting hazy. She talked about her parents and her childhood, something she rarely ever does.

They had never really talked a lot about their respective pasts altogether. They’d covered the basics, but what actually happened didn’t matter as much. They knew they’d both done things they weren’t proud of. But the point of their relationship had always been a clean slate – a fresh start.

She had barely gotten that. She stupidly sacrificed it all for him, and he still wishes she would’ve never done that. He was supposed to die that day with Homelander. It had been his time.

Not hers.

She snores softly in his arms. Her heartbeat is faint, her breathing shallow. An hour ago, it used to be labored, each breath a struggle. She’s so hot he’s afraid she’ll melt in his embrace. He knows she doesn’t have long anymore. He’s running out of time.

Carefully, he stretches his arm to reach for the glistening yellow vial on the nightstand. He pops the lid open and stabs the syringe through the top, drawing it to the brim.

There’s a flicker of hesitation in his green eyes. What if he makes it worse? More painful? What if he kills her?

Victoria’s words ring in his ears. There’s a chance the virus accepts the cure. A loophole, if you will. The cure’s deadly for two-timers, but if they were also infected with the virus, the cure could piggyback on that. One in eighty rats had survived the ordeal before they stopped the trials. Ben didn’t understand the rest of the scientific mumbo-jumbo, but he knows those aren’t great odds.

Still, it’s something.

Ben doesn’t have the luxury to be picky about solutions, though. What he thought were minutes turn to seconds once her breathing stops entirely.

He rolls up the sleeves of the oversized shirt she’s wearing, one of his, and looks for a good angle on her forearm, just below the elbow. He’s not a doctor, he has no idea what the fuck he’s doing or where it should go best, but that one time he did heroin in the 80s, he’d put it exactly there, and it had been fine.

“I’m sorry, my love,” he mumbles into her hair and presses a kiss to the top of her head.

One rough prick through her steeled skin, and the needle is in. He empties the liquid in one swift motion before discarding the used syringe back on the nightstand. He cautiously slides out from underneath her then and ensures she’s lying comfortably on the mattress. He doesn’t want to leave her side, but he knows her powers might short-circuit soon.

Ben remembers the stories from other supes at the rehab clinic – the agonizing pain, the feeling of puking your organs out before the rest follows. Flickers of his own process trickle into his mind. He can’t remember most of it, but he remembers how they’d locked him up in a nuclear-proof prison at some point during the procedure.

For now, he prefers not die by a rain of acid if he gets to pick.

His hand gently caresses her head. He’s not even sure she’s still alive. She might not, and he may have been too late. All for nothing.

“Come on, baby,” he whispers and takes her hand in his. It feels cold and lifeless, but he still tries. He’s not ready to let go yet. He’s not sure he’ll ever be. “I know you can beat this shit like everything else. We’re this fucking close. Just a little more…”

And then, there’s a flicker of something – a weak tap of a finger against his palm. There’s movement behind her eyelids and a twitch of her brows.

“Sweetheart?”

There’s a groan, her hands gripping a fistful of bedsheets as she coils into the mattress, muscles contorting. He gently rubs her back, trying to help her as the pain tears through her.

“Hey, hey, you’re good. You’re alright,” he soothes and feels the guilt bubbling in his stomach. He hates that he did this to her, but he did it for love. The knowledge barely makes it better, however.

“Oh, fuck, Ben!”

She usually screams those exact words for different reasons, and Ben notes the soft tones of annoyance and anger that are lacing her voice.

“Did you give me the fucking cure?!”

Ben draws his lips into tight line and nods. Admittedly, she might not have fully consented to the procedure. But he prefers her furious with him for the rest of her life over dead. Besides, he’s her husband – shouldn’t the decision be his? Like pulling the plug? That’s a thing, right?

“Motherfucking–“

She bites down on her tongue and swallows her curses with some blood as another surge of pain takes control of her body. Her fingernails claw at her forearms as if she’s trying to scratch it out of her system. If Ben could compare it to anything, he’d probably go with a demon exorcism.

“You selfish fucking prick! You can’t even let me die in peace?!” she grits through her teeth, fighting another surge. She feels the nausea too, like a parasite trying to flee its host through her throat.

“Look, I’m fucking sorry, but I had to take the shot, alright?!”

Y/N groans in loud exhaustion, and Ben’s not entirely sure if it’s because of the pain or a little bit because of him, too.

“Ben, you need to fucking leave,” she presses through her lips, her stern gaze finding his.

He can tell by her look that she’s not saying it out of anger. She’s not saying it because she doesn’t want him to stay and never see him again. She says it because she’s trying to save his life.

Again. The fourth time.

Her name falls from his lips, but she shakes her head as she stumbles out of bed and pushes past him towards the bathroom.

“Leave,” she tells him with more urgency. “Close the door. Go now.”

Ben stills with a hand on the doorknob and looks at her. He can’t leave her like this, can he?

“I’ll be fine. I promise. Please go,” she says as if she can read his mind, steadying herself against the cool wall. She can feel it everywhere, trying to escape her body.

His breaths are ragged, his heart is hammering against his ribs. “I fucking love you,” he says through the sting of tears in his eyes. He says it like it’s the last time he gets to say it while she can still hear him.

She sends him a weak smile and mouths, ‘I love you, too.’

And all there’s left then for him to do is staring at a closed bedroom door. And waiting. Fucking waiting…

Part 3: Lovestruck

Ah yes the waiting game 😂🫶 Are you excited for the finale aka the happy end tomorrow? After this, they truly deserve it haha

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#lover #rehab sequel #soldier boy #soldier boy x reader #soldier boy x female reader #soldier boy x wife!reader #soldier boy x supe!reader #human!soldier boy #soldier boy series #soldier boy fic #the boys #the boys amazon #the boys x reader #soldier boy reader insert

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keepswingin · 3 months ago

Text

The campfire flickers as Addison makes her way over, feeling odd and out of place.

It's not a new feeling, and it's something she's more than used to, but it still makes her shiver as she takes a seat on one of the abandoned stumps near the fire. She wraps her arms around herself as she watches the flames twist and twirl around each other.

One of the logs finally gives in to the heat, crumbling beneath the others with a quiet sort of destruction. Embers rush the air. Addison leans back when they come too close, watching them as they tumble towards the ground. One lands on a broken leaf, sizzling before giving in. Another on dirt that's been scuffed back and forth.

Someone shuffles towards her, their heavy footsteps giving them away. She stays silent as Zed comes to a stop beside her, hands shoved into his pockets. He watches the bonfire for a long moment before turning his gaze to her.

When she doesn't make any attempts to speak he takes a seat on the stump beside her own. He drags it closer to her after a minute, careful to still keep some distance between them.

They sit together in silence for a while, simply watching the flames. Addison doesn't know how much time passes before something within him can't bear to the take the silence any longer, his eyes turning back towards her. Something stubborn pulls at the corners of his mouth.

"I feel like we always end up like this," he says, voice barely above a whisper. "Even without meaning to."

Addisons sighs, leaning closer to the warmth of the fire. "Maybe it's a sign," she dares to say, watching his reaction out of the corner of her eye. "If we keep ending up on different sides." Zed is shaking his head before she's even finished, turning his body to her, already ready to bare his soul. Something within her warms at the thought of it, at the proof that he would still do anything for her, for them. "It's just hard," she continues, stopping him before he can start. "When you still don't get it."

"But I do get it," he argues softly. He almost reaches for her, but hesitates, and then lowers his hands back down to his lap. She doesn't like that, the invisible barrier he thinks there is, even when she knows there isn't one. He should know there isn't one too, after all these years.

"I promise I do. I see myself in all of them, even when I try to separate my problems from theirs." He pauses, eyes sliding away from her. "We all have the same problem underneath everything else. That we're different, and I know," he says, lifting his gaze back to her own, keeping her from interrupting, "that you've always felt different too, that you are different, just like us. But Addison, you're always so quick to side with whoever you hear out first, without listening to what anyone else has to say. Without listening to what your friends say." He stops and there's something horribly vulnerable in his gaze, tipping from the edge of his tongue. "Without hearing me out."

Zed reaches for her then, slipping his fingers between her own, tugging her closer. His fingers are freezing.

"I always think that they're not going to be heard," she admits lowly, staring at their intertwined hands. "I just think that if I say it for them, if I'm louder than everyone else, if I'm the person for them that I could never be for myself...I think that maybe I'll be able to fix everything before it gets worse."

Zed nearly smiles. "You've always been good like that, Addy," he says, earnest. "You always find the good in people, even if they can't realize it just yet themselves." He squeezes her hand in reassurance. "But when it comes to this, there's always another part to the story."

Silence envelopes them. Addison shifts closer to Zed, to the flames that try to escape from the stones that keep them in. Zed moves with her, unwilling to let her go. She still can't get over that, over him and how he's never changed. How deep inside he's still the same guy who stole one glance at her and never once looked at anyone else because he just knew.

"The Daywalkers say - "

"The Vampires say - "

They both share a look before laughing, Zed gesturing her to go first. Addison exhales and starts again, looking over at him to watch his reaction. "The Vampires say that they've always been attacked in one way or another by the Daywalkers. That there's never been peace, no matter what they do."

Zed's expression doesn't change much. "The Daywalkers said that they haven't done anything to upset them. They said the Vampires have hated them since they could remember."

"Sounds about right," Addison jokes, shooting him a smile before giving a quick look to the campground around them. The moon sits high in the sky, stars scattered around what remains of the clouds. One cabin is lit from within while the other is shrouded in darkness. She wonders how long they've felt isolated from one another, forced apart from telltales and baseless threats. "Do you think we can help them, Zed?"

Zed chuckles, pretending to think about it for a long moment, scrunching his eyebrows together. He stands up and gently pulls her up with him, before bringing her close and wrapping his arms around her. "I think you can do anything you put your mind to," he says playfully. Addison shoves at his shoulder, and he laughs again before pressing a kiss to her forehead. "We're going to help them. Fix this place up a bit."

Addison smiles. "Yeah?"

"Yeah," he confirms quietly, eyes flickering over to the cabins. "You've always had the power of being able to bring people together and I have no doubt that you can do it again." He smiles too. "That we can do it again."

She pulls back slightly, just so that she can look up at him, take in that expression he gets whenever he's saying something kind. It's the way his lips pull, the light in his eyes, the way he's always so determined about whatever he's fighting against. She loves him more than she can ever say, she thinks, as she drags him down to meet her, kissing him like it's the first time all over again.

When she pulls away Zed is beaming and doesn't want to let her go just yet, trying to chase after her lips. She laughs and swats him away but he succeeds in giving her a kiss on the cheek before finally pulling away, their hands linking together as they turn away from the fire.

The fire flickers as they make their way back to the edge of camp, where their own cabin sits.

They don't catch the eyes of Victor and Nova watching them from the shadows, their own hands clutched tightly together.

#disney zombies #zombies 4 #zed x addison #zeddison #z4 #zombies #disney zombies 4 #disney zombies fanfiction #disney zombies fanfic #zombies 4 fanfiction #zombies 4 fanfic #milo manheim #meg donnelly #keepswingin writes #mine #is it good to be back or do i just have like a two day brain rot with the new song xD

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minhosimthings · 2 years ago

Text

Gods and Monsters

Symphony Smut Series Day 1: Lana del Rey's God's and Monsters

Lyric: In the land of gods and monsters, I was an angel, looking to get fucked hard.

Pairings: Cupid!Minho × fem!angel of heaven, includes Yuna from Itzy in a scene

Warnings: SMUT MINORS DNI, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it), loss of virginity (reader), overstimulation, p in v, slight breeding kink, corruption kink, possesion kink, hair pulling, use of kitten and angel, Minho cumming in reader

A/N: alright, first day! I am saur excited for this series so we're starting off strong with my husba- I mean my bias Minho! This was heavily inspired by his WKorea photoshoot.

THE SYMPHONY SMUT SERIES MASTERLIST

Gods existed. And so did monsters. But monsters didn't have a particular description, in Minho's opinion.

There he was, an angel, with the brightest wings of them all, holding metal tipped arrows in his hand, shooting all those who he believed deserved love, or worse, rejected love.

And yet, sometimes Cupid falls in love too. High angel of God never mattered to him much. Why would it? When beautiful angels roam the gardens of Eden, stroking their frocks and picking berries and flowers all day.

You were one such beautiful angel.

The prettiest of them all, according to Minho.

"Minho has his eyes on you again Y/N." Yuna nudged your shoulder gently, accidentally making you drop the berries you had in your hand. You rolled your eyes and picked them up again, quickly throwing them into your basket.

"Let him. Why should I care?"

"He's a high ranking angel Y/n." Yuna mumbled, adjusting her skirt, "They say he serves God directly."

"Nobody has seen God Yuna." You smiled gently at her. Even though she was older than you, by a few years or so, she was always the more mischevious one, always keeping an eye out for spotting your admirers.

"He is handsome, but we all know I have probably zero chances with an angel like that."

"Suit yourself then." She huffed, her mystical eyes scouring the dirt below your feet for more berries.

"Why are we picking so many berries anyway?" You questioned, adjusting the basket on your hip. Yuna shrugged her shoulders and made a face which clearly screamed confusion.

"I've hear a rumour though." Yuna whispered excitedly to you, toying with a mulberry leaf she has accidentally plucked, "Apparently Minho needs them for his monthly ritual tonight."

"The ritual?" You asked, "The one where he..."

"Takes an angel for his own, yes." Yuna completed your sentence, removing a thorn stuck in her wickerwork basket, "Apparently if he falls in love with any of them, he shall be promoted to a higher position, one where he can actually see God."

"But that hasn't happened yet has it?" You chuckled, the scent of honeydew plantations tickling your nose, as you saw some angels tending to them with their bare hands all pricked with thorns, "He's a Cupid. Cupids can't fall in love. Even though, I admit, he is dashing."

"Angels, may I have a moment of your time?"

A cold voice sounded like a gong behind your ear drums as you spun around (your skirt spinning with you), to face a cat-like face with bunny teeth.

"Minho." Yuna perked up, brushing her hair out of her face. Gosh, she really did like him. Like you, and every other angel in Heaven and Hell.

"How are you today?" " Fine as ever, Yuna." His tone was condescending, a weird one to use for a casual conversation such as this one.

"Y/N." He bowed to you, the eclipses of his soft hair falling onto his face as he did. "Minho." You answered, the neckline of your frock falling down as you bowed, revealing your cleavage, which Minho tried hard not to stare at.

"You look beautiful today." He complemented, his white teeth on full display, "as always." His addition at the end made you blush.

Was he this nice to every pretty angel?

"I assume you ladies are picking these beautiful berries for my ritual tonight?" He bent over your basket, examining all the black and red berries stuffed into it.

"We are." You cleared your throat, noticing how close Minho was to your bosom, "aren't they delicious looking?"

"We'll see tonight." Minho toyed with a blackberry, "When I drink them up."

Something about his tone scared you, as Yuna bowed him out of the garden, leaving you, tucking your skirt in a little more secure, and looking at the berries all arranged neatly in your basket.

Unexpected things always happen to humans, as you had heard. But sometimes they can happen to angels too. They can happen to anyone really. They just need time.

"Y/N." Minho caressed your cheek gently. The smell of crushed blackberries filled the room, as a bowl of red berries lay beside you.

Being chosen by Minho, hearing your name fall from his lips like an ill forgotten name of a God was shocking, as Yuna nudged you forward to the stand. All the angels looked at you with pity, as if you were a lamb going off for slaughter.

But you hadn't expected him to treat you so kindly.

"My angel...." Minho whispered, tucking a stray hair back behind your ear. "Why me?" You whispered back, as he kissed your knuckles gently, his wings fluttering gently behind him, as he folded them into his back.

"Why not you?" He chuckled, looking at you with bedroom eyes. Reaching his hand behind you, he picked up a berry from the wooden bowl and held it in front of your mouth.

"Be a good angel and open for me." He imitated an opening mouth with his own, "ah there you go, good girl."

The cherry was sweet, running with juices as you tasted it in your mouth, it's bitterness not bothering you. Spitting the seed out quickly, you looked up meekly as Minho's naked figure.

His jaw, lined with heavy lust, his eyes darkened as the night, and his muscles throbbing into your skin. You were wearing a loose robe of reds and whites, a show of the corruption of the pure.

"Oh don't worry darling." Minho caressed your cheek again, his thighs rubbing against yours as he laid you back on the silk ridden bed, "You'll feel nothing but pleasure tonight." "Minho I-Im scared." You whimpered, unsure of what to do. What if he didn't fall in love with you? What if you became another wasted angel?

"Don't be." Minho chuckled, "A pretty angel like you shouldn't be."

You sunk back into the mattress, his body over yours, a hand cupping your cheek while the other rested on your waist, stroking the skin there, exposed from your ridden up robe. your hands were in his curls, and you revelled in the way that you could shamelessly touch them now. He paused for a second, nose brushing yours, breathless and grinning down at you, a knowing smile that was so beautiful that it rendered you speechless.

You leaned in to kiss him again, slower this time, relishing in the moment. you were lost in him, thinking back to the very first time you’d locked eyes and how you never thought it would come to this. this, the way he was holding you, was the best surprise.

"May I?" Minho asked gently, toying with your robe. You nodded your head in a weak attempt of saying yes. His face, mere inches from yours rendered you speechless again.

And with that, the air changed, charged with a different kind of tension. Minho pulled you on top of him, hands firm on your body, the action itself gentle. you steadied yourself, hands on his shoulders, his resting on your waist.

he smiled softly, slowly peeling the material off of your body, up over your head and tossed carelessly onto the floor. he kept his eyes on yours, despite the fact you were now left bare, aside from the white cotton panties that separated you both. he pawed at your sides, kneading gently at your soft hips.

“we’re gonna start slow, okay? gonna take my time with you.” he muttered, eyes on yours before they trailed slowly down, across your face, neck, collarbone, further and further until he was taking all of you in. he began to stroke the underside of your breast with his thumb, watching the way your body tensed under his feather-like touch.

His kiss trailed further down your body, peppered in the valley of your breasts, and then you stopped breathing, the air caught in your throat because he was looking at you, really, truly looking at you, as his tongue found your nipple. you couldn’t take your eyes off of him, not when he was looking at you like that, not when he was making you feel this good already.

“oh, kitten, you want me so badly, don’t you? should’ve asked me sooner. m’gonna make you feel so good.” His hands were on your hips, guiding you backwards and forwards on him.

“it feels so- oh, god.” you whimpered, fingers tangling in his curls, back arching further into him as your thighs clenched around his. He licked over your collarbone oh so slowly, a shiver running down your taut spine.

“i want you to come for me like this first, okay? can you do that for me, kitten?” he cooed, bouncing his leg ever so slightly. “look at me.” And you did, somehow mustering the strength to pull yourself back up and find his darkened eyes.

You were a mess of curses when you let go, your body convulsing, collapsing into him as you came. You were throbbing on his thigh, one glance down at where you were grinding against him displaying your slick. His arms went around your body, flipping you onto your back so that you were resting against the mattress.

“you did so well, angel.” Minho crooned, resting over you on his forearms. you stared up at him in awe, blinking away the haze. “do you want more?”

Minho's hand slid down your body, searching for the band of your underwear. when he reached his destination, he toyed with the lacy edges, letting them snap against the pudge of your belly, teasing you. you bucked your hips, frustrated, and he used the opportunity to cup your pussy, feeling where you’d soaked through the cotton. the groan he let out was carnal, animalistic, almost needy. he could feel all of you, how you ached and dripped, how you needed the everything that you’d requested.

“you’re so fucking good for me, God.” Minho almost slurred his words, voice lower than you’d ever heard it. you keened at the sound, pushing your hips further into him.

“you still want all of me?” he breathed, his shaky breath fanning your face. Minho was obsessed with hearing you say it, obsessed with how you wanted him as much as he needed you.

“You’re so fucking tight.” lando groaned, an edge of excitement in his voice, and then he unleashed everything that he’d held back.

“ahh,” you moaned, trying to tilt your hips so he stopped rutting against your clit, but he was too heavy for you to move beneath him. You could feel another orgasm brewing and you squeezed your eyes shut, your brain fogged. “M-minho” you cried, not knowing if you could keep going like this.

Minho's erratic hips never faulted, “shh,” he cooed unsteadily. “you can take it.”

You shook your head back and forth and mewled in your throat. Minho tried to reassure you, “m’almost finished, kitten.”

As wild and deadly as he was in the battles of Heaven , he was just as primal in the bedroom. Thee softness of your skin felt heavenly against Minho's sore body and against his calloused hands. he slid a hand into your hair, his fist grasping tightly. “this is the last time. i promise.” His deep baritone sent you over the edge. you cried out loud, your legs squeezing against Minho's body, your body shaking as he pummeled you through another orgasm.

You could barely hear the way he was grunting and moaning as you clenched down impossibly hard around him. “gah, fuck,” he groaned.

Minho spilled inside you, your eyes rolled into the back of your head as you felt him fill you once more that night. You weren’t even sure how he still had more to give at this point.

His thrusts turned slow but remained powerful when he bottomed out, hitting you as far back as he could. you gasped with every rut of his hips hitting yours.

His seed leaked out around his cock as he rode out his orgasm. you weren’t sure you could go for another round, hoping Minho was true to his word and this actually was the last time.

His hand aimlessly stroked your hair. he pulled back to look at you, smiling at the sight of your flushed face and disheveled hair. “see. knew you could take it.” he kissed the tip of your nose, regretfully pulling out of you. you whined at the loss—you had got so used to the feeling of him inside you, it was almost painful for him to leave. he marveled at you as he sat back on his haunches, looking between your legs and watching his seed gush out of you.

"You're mine now." Minho whispered into your ear, looking at your cum ridden tummy, "all mine for the eternity of heaven."

As if to seal a charm, Minho kissed you on your neck, wrapping your weak figure into his arms, and running his fingers through your hair to cradle you to sleep.

"My angel."

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crusty-chronicles · 2 years ago

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Airheaded S/O Headcannons #13: Gaara (Naruto)

Legitimately hates you when you first meet

Which to be fair, he kinda hated everyone during the Chuunin Exams

But something about you amplified that hatred

Maybe it was the fact you always had a dopey smile on your face

Maybe it was how you won your match against the sound ninja by stumbling around (literally tripping or looking around last second so their attack barley missed you)

Or maybe, just maybe it was because you were so nice to him.

Didn't you have a clue what he was?

What he was capable of?

All the horrible things he was planning on doing to one of your peers? (That Uchiha kid really did get on his nerves.)

It was truly disgusting, that smile of yours filled with so much warmth.

Then you'd volunteered to be his opponent when Sasuke was late. Your own opponent he'd killed the night before.

"Why don't we fight each other since the people we're supposed to fight are missing? It's better than sitting here and doing nothing."

And it was the audacity of you to address him so formally that made him agree.

He was going to enjoy defeating you. Finally shut you up once and for all.

But when the fight started, something about your demeanor changed.

It was more focused, your chakra somehow stronger.

There was no longer a fool in front of him.

And when the match started, he once again found himself on the offense.

Sand barely able to protect him against your speed. It was like he was fighting Rock Lee all over again

And that made him mad.

So mad that he became more aggressive with his attacks.

You now the one being pushed back.

It would have been evenly matched. Key word: would've.

But like the fool you were, you mis-stepped and took a direct hit from his sand.

The granules wrapping around you and preparing to crush you into nothing.

But before he could put you down for good, you extended your arm out.

"I surrender." And that bright smile was back.

"That was a good match. It truly was an honor to fight you, Gaara."

He stopped his attack immediately out of sheer confusion.

You were the enemy.

He was supposed to help destroy your village

Yet here you were treating him like he was more than that.

Like he wasn't just a monster.

You called fighting him an 'honor'. Something you enjoyed rather than being a nuisance like he thought.

What was wrong with you

Gaara thought a lot about that day.

How he almost destroyed the Leaf

How Naruto had completely changed his perspective on life.

But more often than not, he thought about you.

And when he finally got to see you again during Rock Lee's battle with Kimimaro, the first thing he did was apologize.

"It's a pleasure to be meeting you again. I'd like to apologize for my behavior during the Chuunin Exams, especially towards you."

The way your face lit up had his own reddening.

"Thank you! And it's nice to see you're doing better."

He realizes he's actually grown fond of your dopey smile.

Because of Gaara's soft spot for you, you're constantly doing runs for the Hokage to the Sand Village

It's mostly to keep relations peaceful between the villages, Gaara being the new Kazekage and all.

But you don't have a clue. You just think you get a free trip to see your friend 🥺🥺🥺

It's during your time there that Gaara really notices your lack of brain.

No, you can't put a smiley face as a signature on important documents.

Please stop jumping from tall heights so his sand will catch you. He can only control it so much.

You cannot be lost at a time like this. You were just behind him five minutes ago????

He practically follows you around like a lost puppy so you don't get hurt.

That means being your personal escort between villages.

Even though he knows you're more than capable of protecting yourself.

He just can't risk something happening to you.

You're too precious. (Being one of his first friends alongside Naruto.)

After confiding in Kankuro once, it's then he's told all warmth he feels from being near you is love.

Something he never thought he'd ever experience.

Something he was told he never deserved.

And he figures you must like him too with how adamant you are to stay by his side, right?

Maybe not

He doesn't exactly know how these things work.

Courting you is a process he is extremely unfamiliar with.

Tries to ask for help from his siblings

Kankuro suggests buying you gifts and 'flirting'

Tamari suggests he just outright tell you his feelings.

Both prove to be a trial-and-error process.

You're thankful for the little things he gives you, but your face doesn't redden as his does with you.

He tells you he likes your eyes only for it to turn back to him when you tell him he has a kind heart.

How is he to top that?

Tries Tamari's method and just feels more defeated.

"I enjoy the time you spend here with me."

"I like being here with you two 😃"

"I should rephrase. I like you."

"Me too. I'm so glad we're friends!"

He decides to go about it his own way and maybe, just maybe you'll return his feelings.

"Do you remember how I was back then?" He asked as the both of you sat atop a building. The sun just beginning to set.

"Yup. You were a little mean at the Chuunin Exams. I thought you were gonna kill me for a second."

And that makes him panic for a second because if you thought that back then, there was no way you'd return his feelings. But he pushed on. No use going back now.

"There's a reason for that. When I was a child, I was told I was undeserving of love. That I was brought into this world hated. My only purpose was to live for myself, everybody else wanted me to die."

He was stunned when you placed your hand on his.

"You are deserving of love and happiness. I love you, you know?"

He was not expecting this turn of events. He planned of finishing his rant with 'Now I have plenty to live for. You are one of those reasons.'

Not for you to outright say you loved him

It was so unexpected that he didn't realize he started crying until you fussed over him.

"I'm so sorry! I didn't mean to make you cry!!! Please don't be sad!!!"

And he has to reassure you they're tears of happiness. That right now he was the most content he's ever been.

Because of your smooth brain, you ask him how he can be happy when he's crying.

He ends up pulling you into a kiss and that's where the dots connect for you.

Gaara has the biggest soft spot for you. It only makes sense that everything he calls you is with all the love he has.

Love, sweetheart, honey, dear, precious, my heart.

Not ashamed to call you all those things in public like some of the other candidates in this series.

Surprisingly, Gaara doesn't get jealous. He's very secure in his ability to make you happy and about your feelings for him. He doesn't doubt that for a second.

However, if you're gone too long on a mission, he might get a little insecure. The feeling is quickly gone as soon as you get back.

He is completely enamored with you and your heart. Your empty head is a quirk he's also learned to enjoy.

MASTERLIST

An: The final chapter to our main Airhead Stronk S/O series. That doesn't mean the series is officially over!!!! I'll be doing bonus chapters via requests or characters I think deserve love. They're probably gonna take a while tho so I can focus on finishing my Moon and Sun series. THANK YOU ALL FOR YOUR SUPPORT

#gaara x reader #gaara x y/n #naruto x reader #naruto x y/n #sabaku no gaara #naruto shippuden #x reader #x y/n #airhead s/o #stronk s/o

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thistledown-au-warriors · 20 days ago

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forest of secrets - chapter 12

< Chapter 11 || Index || Chapter 13 >

[Ao3 Link]

It was a cold, gray morning. Despite the lack of snow since the river thawed, the forest floor below still felt icy, what was not frozen being covered by slush and moisture. Fire Heart shambled through Tallpines, occasionally tripping on the springy pine needles. As he lifted his jaws to scent the herbs he was looking for, his jaws parted into a massive yawn. Sand Storm, hard on his paws, lashed her tail as she narrowly avoided bumping into him.

“You're going to warn everything in these woods that we're here at this rate. Get a grip.” She snapped, ears flat.

Fire Heart mumbled a half-hearted apology. Supplying RiverClan with fresh-kill as well as keeping up with his duties in ThunderClan was taking up all his and Gray Stripe’s time and energy. Both toms had crossed the river with prey several times, and so far their luck had held. No ThunderClan cat had found out what they were doing.

Except, of course, for Misty Step. She had confronted them the same day they saved the kits, having guessed their intentions when they headed straight to the flooded Sunningrocks. She’d looked like the spitting image of her mother as she glared down at Fire Heart.

“Did the river water flood your brains?” Her snarl still rang in his ears. “You’re going to hunt for another Clan in the middle of leaf-bare? Are you trying to get exiled?”

"They're starving, Misty Step." Fire Heart had pleaded softly, crouching down in front of her looming form. "If we don't help them, the kits we saved are going to starve to death. RiverClan is going to starve to death. We need four Clans, don’t we? I couldn’t turn a blind eye to this."

The blue-furred warrior had relented, if begrudgingly, and sworn not to help them with their flea-brained scheme. Despite that, she had kept watch for them as they crossed the rushing waters, and covered for them when other cats had occasionally noticed their absence.

Still, no matter how hard he worked to make sure his duties were being met, Fire Heart knew Violet Fang was frustrated with his constant absence. This morning she put him on a list of tasks the moment he began to stir from his sleep. With the order to not leave camp alone since the floods, and with Blazing Cinder’s injury acting up, Fire Heart brought Sand Storm along to gather some traveling herbs near Twolegplace.

He suddenly felt bad, irritating her like he did, even if he hadn't meant it. His stumbling and loud yawning was making far too much noise for a wide open area like Tallpines. He couldn’t blame Sand Storm for being so irritated with him — it wasn't fair to take her guarding for granted when he was the one throwing caution to the breeze.

And really, he hadn't realized that he trusted her that much until now.

“Do we really need to get this close to the Twolegs?” Sand Storm asked, peering beyond the pines into distant fences and roofs.

“Unfortunately.” Fire Heart replied, shifting course to a patch of shrubs by a tree. “Traveling herbs grow best by Twolegplaces. Violet Fang doesn't know where everything grows yet, so we're trying to figure it out. We'll stay away if we can help it though.” he reassured her as an afterthought, sniffing at some leaves.

Sand Storm paused near Fire Heart as he began nipping at the stem of leaves he was pretty sure belonged to a chamomile brush, her ears swiveling around as she watched him. She occasionally glanced away, doing a full scan of the area around them to make sure the noise he made hadn't attracted any predators. "What do we even need traveling herbs for right now?" His companion asked, failing to keep her curiosity at bay. "The river's flooded anyways, so it's not like we can go anywhere."

“They’re called travelling herbs, but they have a lot of other uses, such as strengthening the body and staving off hunger.” Fire Heart explained, nearly quoting one of Violet Fang’s lessons. "Those are particularly helpful during leafbare, when there's not much prey to go around and cats are at their weakest. The elders and Violet Fang need them to survive the cold." Sand Storm nodded in understanding as he nipped at the base of the chamomile bush. The juices exploded on his tongue, tangy and bitter, filling his senses as he set the stems aside. He knew that chamomile was also good for relieving anxiety, and hoped he'd get some of these effects without the possible drowsiness that accompanied them. "Violet Fang also says that Golden Flower could use some. Not to mention, it'll always be useful come newleaf, when the apprentices will be going to the Moonstone."

The warrior was quiet for a long moment. Fire Heart lifted his head to look at her. Sand Storm's green eyes were half-lidded, looking into the distance with an unmistakable sadness. Seeming to sense that she had his attention, she parted her jaws ever so slightly to murmur. “Think Blazing Cinder will be able to go with them?”

Fire Heart didn't answer right away. How could he? His tail tip flicked, as he felt in his heart the desire to comfort her and say that surely her apprentice would be strong enough for such a long journey that would bring her a step closer to becoming a warrior along with her littermates. But as Sand Storm's gaze met his, Fire Heart immediately knew that he had to be honest.

“Blazing Cinder is improving every day, but her siblings are far ahead of her in their training. She may be good for the journey to Highstones in Greenleaf, but she has much training to catch up on before then, I think.”

“Right.” Sand Storm replied, looking away. She gave her pelt a shake. “It was never going to be easy, being a mentor to that molly, I suppose.”

Fire Heart nodded, picking up the leaves he'd gathered. “Well, let's go over there. I believe there's some sorrel or something near that oak tree.” He meowed, pointing with his tail to a nearby oak with some greenery growing around its roots.

Sand Storm’s nose wrinkled as she padded to his side. “ ‘Or something’ is right. How do you even tell them apart?”

“Scent, mostly.” Fire Heart replied, walking with her. “And sorrel doesn't usually have flowers. I'm also looking for lavender, which I know smells very sweet and has a lot of purple flowers.”

As they stopped in front of the brush of a plant that definitely wasn't sorrel, Sand Storm seemed thoughtful. “I suppose it's a lot like hunting, then. I'll trust my nose and whiskers before trusting my eyes.”

“I guess that's how we know you're a cat.” Fire Heart meowed without really thinking about it as he bent his neck to sniff at the leaves.

"Excuse you?" Sand Storm scoffed in surprise. Fire Heart glanced over to see her tail was proudly held high, but there was no trace of anger to her narrowed eyes. "I think your eyes would be able to tell you that I'm a cat. Next time, try appreciating my hunting skills."

"Do I need to?" Fire Heart answered, licking his nose to swipe away the last of the chamomile juices. Perhaps he'd ingested too much, he realized, with how relaxed he suddenly felt. "Every cat knows you're the best hunter in the Clan."

Sand Storm turned away, but when she glanced back at him her eyes were warm. "I don't think that's true, but I guess that’s nice to hear from you."

The two cats didn't talk much after that. With Fire Heart's jaws so full of herbs, he couldn't talk without putting them down, each pause a delay that seemed to only put Sand Storm more on edge. Still, she wasn't completely silent; every time he paused to collect a new herb, she quietly asked him a few questions, such as what it was and why he was collecting it. If it were a cat like Dusty Earth asking him these questions, he would take it as a mocking challenge to his knowledge. Coming from her, however, he knew it was genuine curiosity.

Fire Heart took his time wandering through Tallpines, making sure to note where he found each herb he collected. He was so lost in his gathering, he barely even noticed they were standing rather close to the point where the forest met the Twolegplace. Fire Heart felt a pang in his heart at how close he was to Princess’ garden now, and his paws itched to visit his sister. He knew, however, this action wouldn't be welcomed by Sand Storm, or any of his clanmates for that matter.

“Can you smell that?” she whispered, dropping low. Fire Heart followed suit, though the taste of the leaves he carried in his mouth made it difficult to pick apart anything unusual. He hastily hid his herb bundle in the crook of a tree, parting his jaws to taste the air and figure out what scent she had picked up that suddenly troubled her. He stalked the undergrowth, hard on Sand Storm’s paws, past the ThunderClan scent marks as they followed the scent.

Soon, the ground under their paws was marked by tracks of many cats, left behind thanks to the mud left by the thaw. There were many strange scents, too. Several cats had been here, and recently. Fire Heart wrinkled his nose in disgust. The cat scents were muddled up with those of crowfood and the stink of Twoleg rubbish.

“Rogues.” Sand Storm hissed, circling around the tracks.

"Definitely." Fire Heart agreed with a low growl. He licked at his nose, trying to get rid of the stink with whatever remnants of herbs were still on his tongue. It was impossible to identify any of the scent trails with how muddled together they were, but there was still something familiar about them. Something he’s scented rather recently. “Broken Tail’s lackeys?” he wondered aloud, knowing the former ShadowClan rogues had been the only trespassers in ThunderClan recently.

“Maybe. Can't pick apart anything ShadowClan, though. Not like that rabble can be considered ShadowClan anymore.” She sat up, pink nose wrinkling in disgust. “Well, no matter, I suppose it's been handled.”

Fire Heart tilted his head. “What makes you say that? I haven't heard anything about rogues being spotted, and this is recent.”

“Yes, but I think Tiger's Claw must have chased them out. They'd be mousebrained to come back here.” Sand Storm replied, raising a pale ginger paw up from the mud to wash it.

Fire Heart froze for a moment, then parted his jaws to taste the tracks more deeply. Among the rank smell of rogue, he could clearly pick up Tiger's Claw's scent trail. He felt a prickle of discomfort as he sat up, staring down at the tracks. What could Tiger's Claw want with rogues? There were no signs of a scuffle, or anything that signified there had been a chase. He knew the deputy had a complete disdain for outsiders, though. There was no way anything more than a confrontation happened between these cats, was there?

“Fire Heart! Fire Heart!”

Springing to their paws, both cats whirled around. Sitting on the fence at the end of her Twoleg garden was his sister, Princess. Relief washing over him, Fire Heart raced across to the fence and leaped up beside her.

Princess broke into a deep, throaty purr and rubbed the side of her face against his. “I’ve been watching the woods in hopes of speaking to you, it's been so long!” she exclaimed, pulling away from him. “Oh, Fire Heart, you’re so thin!”

“Prey is still scarce.” Fire Heart admitted. “I’m healthy enough I don't need to eat every day, it's fine.”

Princess’s eyes shone with pride. “So noble!” Then she glanced past Fire Heart, ears angling back warily. “And who is this?”

Fire Heart winced as he peered over his shoulder. Sand Storm stood by the rogue tracks, back arched and eyes wide as she stared at them. She had seen him run and easily leap over a Twoleg fence to greet a kittypet. And Princess was now seeing another warrior of ThunderClan, one who would chase her out of the woods had Fire Heart not been there.

He jumped down, keeping his tail high and trying not to bristle from anxiety. “It's okay, it's just my sister.” Fire Heart called, tone light. Sand Storm didn't blink, merely narrowed her eyes slightly as she padded over to Fire Heart, eyes fixed on the kittypet atop the fence.

He turned to Princess. “Princess, this is Sand Storm.”

He tried not to let Sand Storm's sudden hostility get to him, turning back to Princess with a welcoming smile. "Princess, this is Sand Storm."

Princess paused for a heartbeat, as though struggling to place the name, before her face lit up in kit-like joy. "Sand Storm! Fire Heart has mentioned you a couple of times before. I have to admit, I thought you'd be a bit bigger and more muscular, but you're very pretty. Gorgeous, even!"

Sand Storm looked as though Princess had suggested eating crowfood. "Pretty catches no prey." She snarled in response. Fire Heart winced as he turned back to his sister, expecting her to be hurt by the distaste and anger in Sand Storm's voice, but Princess just giggled as though Sand Storm had told a joke.

"So feisty! I can see why Fire Heart likes you." She purred sweetly, looking back to Fire Heart with a smile. "Well, I give you two my blessing, if that's why you came by."

He stared blankly back at her in confusion, before glancing over at Sand Storm. His warrior friend looked as if she were about to leap out of her pelt. Fire Heart looked quickly between them before he landed his gaze on Princess, dumbfounded. "What?"

The kittypet merely purred in amusement, shaking her head. There was a glimmer of something Fire Heart didn't understand in her eyes. “Don't worry about it.” She leaned forward and gracefully landed on the ground in front of the forest cats. “It's nice to meet you, Sand Storm.”

Fire Heart cast the warrior an anxious look. After a moment, Sand Storm's back straightened. “Sure.” She grumbled, looking Princess up and down. “I've heard of you too. You're Cloud Tail’s birthmother.”

That gave Princess pause. “Cloud Tail ?” she echoed. Her head swung around and her glittering green gaze fixed on Fire Heart. “So he's really been accepted in the Clan? Oh Fire Heart, please tell me about my son! I've been dying to hear about him!”

“He’s doing well.” Fire Heart replied warmly. “Growing big and healthy, running around and playing. A couple from the Clan took him in and are caring for him like their own kit.” As his words left his mouth, Fire Heart was filled with doubt. He knew how much it meant to his sister to have given her kit to the Clan, but she never said she would accept him having different parents in ThunderClan.

Thankfully, though, Princess’ eyes softened with delight. "I'm so happy to hear little Cloud is being well cared for." Princess purred, but her whiskers started to droop as she glanced over her shoulder towards her nest. "The last of his siblings left for her new home just yesterday." She mewed softly, looking back at Fire Heart earnestly. "When I brought Cloud to you, I was so worried — worried he wouldn't be cared for, worried that he would have been better off with other housefolk. I thought maybe I was being selfish keeping him close to me instead of letting him leave like the rest of them."

"You gave your entire litter up to Twolegs?" Sand Storm gasped in dismay, her eyes round in shock as she stared at his sister. Fire Heart cringed at the brusqueness question, but if Princess was offended by it, she didn't show it. Instead, she stared back at the pale ginger warrior, raising her chin defiantly as she met Sand Storm's horrified gaze.

"I did. That's what housecat queens do. Many ‘twolegs’ , as you call them, are ready to be housefolk to new kittens. It happened to Fire Heart and I with our mother, and I'm sure it happened to her and her littermates too." She looked away from the warrior with a heavy sigh, looking older well beyond her years. "It's hard, knowing that I'll likely never see my kits again, but I have to trust that my housefolk made sure my kits will be as loved by their own housefolk as I am by own."

Sand Storm still stared at the kittypet queen, ears flat, her whole body stiff and frozen as though Princess's words had suddenly turned her to stone. "Why didn't you just leave, instead? How can you live with creatures that would make you abandon your own kits?"

Princess met her stare once more, her pale tail tip twitching with building irritation at the onslaught of probing questions. "My housefolk are good and kind to both me and my kits. They cared for them just as much as I did. I'm sure wherever they went, they will be happy and suffer no hardship. If they ever do, I trust that my housefolk will step in and take them back." Her gaze now hardened as she stared down the other molly. "Why should I endanger myself and my litter just so I can say they're mine? To own them? I don't have a mate, and I am young and inexperienced and became a mom way sooner than I ever expected.” She pauses to take in a breath. “Before meeting Fire Heart, I had nobody I would be able to lean on out here. If I struck out on my own, my kits and I could have died. This way, they're happy and healthy and alive. I've done the best I could for each of them — what more could a mother ask for?" Princess now lifted her chin slightly, staring defiantly at Sand Storm as though she dared the forest cat to challenge her decision.

For a moment, Fire Heart thought she might — but at last, Sand Storm looked down at her paws. "I truly don't understand how you can be okay with never seeing your kits again." She murmured at last, any challenge now gone from her voice. "But I know that there's not a queen in the forest who wouldn't give everything to see their kits happy and healthy. I can understand that much, at least." Princess nodded shortly in response as Sand Storm looked back up, her green eyes blazing and brows furrowed in determination. "Cloud Tail is a good kit. He's a real pawful, but very intelligent. He's shaping up into a good tracker."

Fire Heart shifted his paws, letting out a breath he didn’t know he’d been holding. “Yes. He'll make a good warrior someday. Should be made an apprentice by Greenleaf.” He added, hoping it didn’t sound like Cloud Tail was just a troublemaker. Wouldn't be good for Princess to hear bad things about her son on top of Sand Storm's confrontation on kittypet queen customs.

Princess smiled, relaxing. “Thank you both. I hope I can see him for myself sooner rather than later.”

“Me too.” Fire Heart murmured. He gave himself a shake as he got to his paws. “But please, don't go into the woods. We just scented rogues nearby. They might be dangerous.”

“Don't worry, I won't.” Princess meowed, touching noses with him. “I’ll still keep an eye out from my garden, though. Don’t be a stranger.”

Fire Heart and Sand Storm watched as Princess leaped up her fence and meowed her goodbyes to them both before disappearing into the other side, her collar’s bell jingling into the distance. As Fire Heart turned to his clanmate to talk to her, he realized that she had already started heading back to the border. He leaped and bounded to catch up.

“Hey, Sand Storm, wait up.” He called. She didn't look at him, her face turned away. “Did you have to talk to Princess like that? I know you don't like kittypets, but there was no need to be rude with—”

" Fire Heart. " Sand Storm interrupted him, suddenly pausing mid stride. He skidded to a halt beside her, watching as she turned away from him, still not meeting his gaze. She opened her mouth as though to speak - but then closed it again, a low growl in her throat. Her tail suddenly lashed, and he watched as she flexed her claws into the ground, working the mud beneath her as though it were an enemy warrior. Was she mad at him?

"Look, Sand Storm, I'm sorry for bringing you so close to the Twolegplace, but—"

"It's not. You." She cut him off once more, tail lashing once again. She glanced at him briefly, her eyes shining, before turning away with something between a sigh and a scoff. "It's not— I'm not mad at you. This isn't about you."

He stared at her in confusion. Who else could she be mad at? She'd only spoken to him and Princess, after all. Was she mad at Princess for giving up Cloud Tail and forcing the Clan to take care of a kittypet? No, that didn't make sense either. He spend a few heartbeats trying to make sense out of it in his mind before giving up.

"If it’s not me, then who are you mad at?" He finally asked. She turned to him at last, her eyes still shining, and he suddenly realized it hadn’t been fury.

Despite the scowl on her face, her eyes were filled with tears.

"Do you remember how I told you I never had any idea who my other parent was?" Fire Heart stared at her, head tipped in confusion at the sudden subject change, but still nodded. All cats in the Clan knew that Red Tail was her father — and now that he was dead, she was an orphan. Sand Storm went on, averting her eyes once more. “Red Tail never told anyone else. He didn't have to, as a queen doesn't have to say who the father of their kits are. Or, well, the sire of their kits. Sometimes a queen will want to raise kits on their own.” She took a deep breath as words rushed out of her, her tongue almost too fast for Fire Heart to keep up. One of her paws rose over to her face and she ran it over her eyes.

“It rarely stops cats from speculating, though. I certainly did. I caught some of the gossip spoken about me, and I would think about it all the time though I pretended not to hear any it.” Her small chin raised up, as if her ramblings were a prayer to StarClan. ”I wanted to believe Tiger's Claw was my father so badly, but Black Leopard wouldn't believe I was her niece. White Flower was always so nice to Red Tail and I, but he and Willow Branch are so committed to each other, it could never be him. For a little bit, Red Tail tried to convince me he had me simply because he wanted kits on his own — but he and I both knew he was lying, he was far too busy for that. And then, when he was old enough, he told me the truth.” She let out a hollow, humorless laugh. “I didn't talk to him for a whole moon afterwards.”

Breath caught in his throat, Fire Heart didn't dare to make a noise, lest it break the spell. He could feel the weight of whatever she was about to share building in the air around them like heavy fog.

“I ignored the truth. Vowed to be the best warrior I could so no one would ever notice. No one could ever find out. Red Tail wouldn't tell anyone else, I knew. And to be honest, I chose to believe it was out of shame. Every day I feared some cat would show up in our territory and claim to be my mother, Red Tail's secret mate.” Sand Storm’s head shifted as she looked at Fire Heart out of the corner of her eye. “Then you came along, right after Red Tail died. What if… his secret wouldn't die with him, you know? What if by having a kittypet-born cat in the Clan… everyone would realize I was also one?”

“No way…” Fire Heart felt as though Sand Storm had swept his paws away beneath him. Never in all of his dreams had he thought Sand Storm had been born a kittypet. For a brief heartbeat, his mind flashed through his apprentice days — all the taunts, all the snide comments she had thrown his way. All the hate she had given him — all of it that could have applied to her. At once, everything seemed to fall into place. And then Sand Storm was speaking again.

"Don’t get me wrong. I'm a Thunderclanner. I always have been, and I always will be." She spat at him — though he wasn't sure if it was for his benefit or hers. “I hated kittypets much before Red Tail told me the truth. I was taught the code by the elders and how it looked down on kittypets, and it made sense to me. All my life I was taught that kittypets were soft and weak, and it was our Great Clan blood that made us Clan cats. Dusty Earth and I would even pretend we were chasing kittypets away from the nursery.” She continued, staring at her paws as she began to pace back and forth in front of him, her tail dragging against the earth behind her. “Suddenly, though, my blood was a weakness bound to betray me one day. I wasn't small because Red Tail was short — it was because of my kittypet blood. I didn't just have to be strong as a Thunderclan warrior; I had to be strong so no one would suspect the truth. If being twice the cat Red Tail ever was would make no cat ever figure it out, then that's who I’d have to be. After all, suddenly kittypets could be warrior apprentices, right?

"I hated you so much, Fire Heart." Sand Storm continued, her unsheathed claws scoring into the earth as she paced. "Everyone comparing me to you — I was scared that if you started getting better than me, everyone would figure it out. If I were weaker than a kittypet-born apprentice, what would that say about me? That kittypet-born cats can be warriors, too? Or would it show that I'm weaker than a kittypet-born, because I am half of one?" Her teeth grit together as if holding herself back from howling, her words somehow still echoing around them. "I hated you just because you were there, and I wanted to be nothing like you. Nothing like my kittypet-lover of a father who broke the code." Just as quickly as she said it, she shook her head dismissively. "But I should've been just like him, Fire Heart, because I loved him so much and he was so good to me and now he's dead and gone and I can never take back the horrible things I said to him!" Claws unsheathed, she swatted away a young branch of fern, shredding some of the leaves. She turned her back to him, breathing turning more ragged as her fur bristled. “He's gone, and I am not even sure who I'm supposed to be anymore.” Her voice came out in a growl as low as a murmur.

Frozen to the ground in shock, Fire Heart had no idea what to say. Never had he thought that Red Tail would be in a relationship with a kittypet. Misty Step had told him that Red Tail had been young and thoughtlessly in love with Tiger's Claw, but it was clear the rest of the Clan believed Red Tail was an honorable cat. Blue Fur herself had unwavering trust in him, believing he was a reliable Clanmate and deputy. If Red Tail himself had been lying all along, even to his leader and friend, did he really have any honor? Don't be mousebrained , Fire Heart scolded himself. Gray Stripe was in a relationship with a RiverClan cat, but Fire Heart still trusted him with his life. And he would defend Violet Fang to the end despite her secrets. Even he was breaking the code now to feed RiverClan. Being a good cat or a bad cat was much more complicated than following the code, it seemed.

“Sand Storm… Why are you telling me all this?” He asked quietly.

Not looking at him, Sand Storm murmured under her breath. “You of all cats deserve to know.”

The words sat with Fire Heart for a few heartbeats. He understood that this was her way of explaining her behavior towards him and Princess. Still, he couldn't believe she would be so vulnerable with him. “This… you already apologized to me, Sand Storm. This changes nothing. I'm glad to have the chance to become your friend.”

The molly took a shaky breath, then in a sudden motion, she turned around and buried her forehead into his chest. Fire Heart started in surprise, then stilled as he felt her erratic breathing. He stood in silence with her, grooming the top of her head soothingly.

A long moment passed. Sand Storm shook out her pale ginger pelt and stepped back, licking the pale fur in her chest and grooming the fur on her face. Fire Heart did the same to his own, putting the flattened patch of fur back in place, salty with tears.

“Can you apologize to your sister for me, when you see her again?” Sand Storm asked quietly, sounding distant. “I didn’t mean to offend her. Or maybe I did, but probably shouldn't.”

“Sure.” Fire Heart replied, dipping his head in gratitude for her consideration. Sand Storm grunted her thanks.

Side by side, they padded back to where the healer apprentice stored the herb bundle. As he secured the herbs between his jaws, he heard Sand Storm speak up behind him one final time. “Hey, Fire Heart? If you ever see Red Tail when you visit StarClan…" She opened and closed her mouth a few times, hesitant, trying to find the right words. “... Say hi to him for me, will you?”

As Fire Heart’s eyes met hers, he felt an urge to tell her the whole truth. To reciprocate the trust she showed in him by revealing what he knew of her father's murder. Who the murderer had really been. But how would that help her now? Red Tail was still dead, and Tiger's Claw wouldn't be dealt with unless Fire Heart finished what he started.

So he merely gave her a gentle smile. “Of course.”

#thistledown au #thistledown forest of secrets

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rinandsketches · 1 year ago

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Dragon warrior study

Spoilers ahead in case you don't wanna be spoiled for Kung fu panda 4.

Meet the new dragon warrior~ Zhen the fox.

And OOH boy does everyone have some sharp words for this idea. But I am here to have a look and share some of my theories on why Zhen was picked.

Quick opinion on the movie since it can't be helped. I really enjoyed it. True it didn't have much of the depth as the first two but it does have a lot of heart, the best description I heard, its this reason I enjoyed it more then the third movie.

Now that I successfully pissed some readers off we can continue. Cause I'm looking into the possibilities of why the dragon warriors have been odd selections, and why both tigress and tai lung weren't chosen to be the dragon warrior despite whether or not they were worthy of being this legendary warrior.

The main argument is in fact the next dragon warrior should be tigress and tai lung since they were cheated out of the title and that po just met Zhen for like eh, 3 days at most. But hey, I'mma tell those folks something. Po was also picked off the streets to be the dragon warrior and had to be trained by shifu in a small time. The choosing of Zhen was no different, only difference is that Po got to know Zhen before the choice.

That said, I wondered why is the dragon warrior such as difficult spot to gain? In the first movie we get info of the dragon warrior, a prophet warrior to protect the valley. Not one managed to claim the title. Not shifu, not tigress, and not tai lung. We're not sure if Oogwai was the first dragon warrior before po but it was the turtle who made the scroll and said it had the secret to becoming an unstoppable warrior.

Shifu had trained Tai lung to be the warrior but Oogwai denied him for having darkness in his heart, then chose Po despite the 5 skilled warrior. He was about to select Tigress before po landed in front but this is not the case. Oogwai felt Po's presence at the tournament, po was flying over the gate at the time when tigress was set to preform, this is why he stopped the tournament. You can see Tigress with a confused expression when he does this. Its cause she didn't even get started.

This is why I believe not even Tigress was meant to be the dragon warrior, but why? Why spend so many years waiting only to select some random panda? Why wasn't any other strong warrior selected. I believe the answer is very simple. What do we know of the dragon warrior? Tigress said this,

"It is said that the dragon warrior can spend months at a time eating nothing but the dew off of a single ginko leaf and the energy of the universe."

What? What kind of mad magic does that mean? Sure the kung fu is pretty exaggerated in the panda universe but even the most strongest warriors needed to have a little bit of food when not in mediation. Its also agreed that the dragon warrior is the strongest. And lastly, why is it called the dragon warrior to begin with?

Because the dragon warrior...was an actual dragon.

Meet the first dragon warrior

This is a character from the paws of destiny. I don't know how Canon the side projects are but in the series paws of destiny we meet Jindao the figure behind the legend. In the series its said that Jindao protected the valley of piece. In Kung fu panda there are only counted 3 dragons so far, 2 in the paws of destiny and 1 in the TV show. Two out of the three were evil. Can you guess which one was among those evil dragons? Yup, Jindao.

For whatever reason Jindao was corrupted by the hero's chi and got power hungry but it was clear that during his defeat Jindao was very powerful. The very ones who defeated him won but just barely. Despite wrong doings here we are, 1000 years later Oogway, yes he's that old, foresaw a hero taking the place of the dragon warrior and training with the hero's chi. Yet he didn't know who it would be.

With all the information laid out, let's see why Zhen and Po are the true animals to recieve the title. For Po, Oogway saw the balance of the universe in Po, his true successor. Po was perfect. Yet no one believed this and thought in order to be the dragon warrior, you needed to be a warrior. This is why Shifu trained tai lung and the 5 so harshly. Po isn't who you'd think would be perfect, borrowing information from Mat pat, he explained the dragon style of kung fu practices all 5 animal styles. (Correct me is I'm wrong) Po was a fanboy of all five so he was on his way to learning the dragon style of kung fu. Po was also very lax nature, had a free spirit and so much heart that Oogway knew Po wouldn't follow the same fate as Jindao.

Zhen, we finally get to Zhen, heh, is a grey fox. Originally a thief and an apprentice to "the chameleon~" someone you wouldn't guess would be the next dragon warrior. The animal that everyone things was picked too fast but again Po was selected in seconds compared to the 5. Their feelings of being jibbed was how audience felt. Shifu again selected more bigger, stronger and skilled warriors to be the dragon warrior. Not the furious five. They had their own stories going on. Po was unwilling to give up the title but I think those candidates would have been a terrible choice, cause the dragon warrior needs to also be humble enough to not fall to the allure of the hero chi. Sure, Zhen's a thief but is she a bad person? No, she isn't. She is a morally grey character next to a black and white one. I believe Zhen was chosen because she can have this understanding of the world. An understanding that some people aren't always who they seem to be. An open heart. This is what everyone else was missing. I'm not saying tigress didn't have heart, she does and I'm not saying tai lung didn't deserve to be the dragon warrior. But if all you needed was skill, you worked for it and you deserved it then by that same logic then Shifu should have been considered.

So why do I believe Zhen was chosen? I believe she was picked because she always had the heart, she has the potential to learn great kung fu, (notice how while she has some skill in combat she isn't probably trained, she then started being trained by the furious 5 and po. Remember the dragon style is the 5 animal styles into one), Zhen also defied someone already on the evil side. and I think po also had...a vision. If you recall Po was beginning to get visions just like Oogway when he foresaw Tai lung returning and the success Po would accomplish. Po had a vision of the chameleon's true plans of world domination. Perhaps Po also saw something similar to what Oogway saw in himself, that Zhen can accomplish great things as the dragon warrior. Someone to follow the steps of po instead of turning into another monster like Jindao.

But this is what I believe, why do you think Po was chosen? And don't write, the creators got lazy, but that count they could have gone. Oh, Monket is next dragon warrior. Movie done.

#kung fu panda #kungfupanda #po #zhen #opinion #theory #kung fu panda 4 #spoilers

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sholiofic · 7 months ago

Note

A Christmassy Biggles prompt: snowed in at Marie's cottage.

And Happy Christmas <333

Happy Christmas back atcha! ❤️

---

"It's still snowing," Erich said, letting the lace curtain in Marie's front window fall back into place.

That was an understatement. It was snowing like he hadn't yet seen in this country, a heavy wet snowfall that came down and down and down without ceasing, putting him in mind of winters in Russia and Norway. The snow had covered Marie's garden in a thick white blanket, piling up on the bench and the fence until they were unrecognizable. Bigglesworth's Bentley was no more than a white hump, its shape obscured by the ever-falling, never-ceasing snow.

Erich turned back to the sitting room. Marie was clattering about in the kitchen making tea, while Bigglesworth -- who had been playing chess with Erich earlier -- was now curled up in an armchair with a book in his lap, idly leafing through it and trying to look fully awake. Their adventure in Rodnitz was half a year behind them, but Erich knew that Bigglesworth was still not quite as recovered as he wanted them to think. It took a man a long time, at their age, to heal from being shot. Erich could understand perfectly; he still had a slight cough as a long-lingering legacy of Sakhalin, and his leg ached on damp days such as this one.

Marie came in from the kitchen with a cup in one hand and the sugar pot in the other. "I don't like the idea of you two driving back to London in this weather," she said, frowning at Bigglesworth. "And they were just saying on the radio that trains are delayed up and down the line."

"We have certainly suffered worse turns of fate than a drive in difficult weather," Bigglesworth said, smiling at her. As always, seeing their obvious pleasure in each other's company sent a bolt of warmth through Erich's chest. At times like this, he didn't even care whether it expanded to encompass him, although he knew that it did. He simply enjoyed watching them enjoy each other.

"You won't be persuaded to spend the night, then?" Marie asked.

There was regret in Bigglesworth's voice as he answered. "I'm afraid not. There's work in the morning, and I believe Erich is in the middle of a long translation with a near deadline."

Erich thought of the work waiting for him at his small, drafty flat in Kensington. Nothing about the picture was appealing. He cleared his throat. "I think we should stay, actually."

The look on Bigglesworth's face was a vision of surprise and pleased hope. "Do you mind? I know you don't like taking time off."

It took one to know one, as the saying went. "Maybe sometimes I should be forced to," Erich said pointedly. "And the weather appears to have stepped in admirably for that."

Marie reached out and seized his hand, her fingers soft and warm in his, drawing him closer to the armchair and the fire. "I won't say 'please stay' like some querulous old lady, but I would be very pleased if you would stay. Both of you."

"If we're going to stay, we should run out to the shop before everything closes," Bigglesworth suggested. "Otherwise we'll eat you out of house and home by morning."

"My larder is not that bare, but we could use a few things," Marie mused. "Especially if the weather is so bad that the village shops are closed tomorrow."

"Let me go," Erich offered. The shop was just at the end of the street, but he didn't like the idea of either of them fighting the storm. Marie'd health was still precarious, and Bigglesworth always would insist he was much better than he really was.

"It doesn't have to be you," Bigglesworth protested.

"You drove us up here. Let me take my turn and do this."

Marie pressed some shopping money on him, and a list.

Outside, the snow was falling, if possible, even thicker than before. It came halfway up his shins, and with the wind blowing it sideways, he was almost instantly soaked.

He was halfway down the street when he heard a voice calling him. An instant later, Bigglesworth caught up, just as wet and panting a little, but cheerfully flushed and bright-eyed.

"The entire reason I went out was so that you two wouldn't have to, you know," Erich said as Bigglesworth fell into step with him.

"I know, but Marie thought of something else she wanted. Anyway, I expect you won't mind help carrying it all back."

Erich muffled his smile in his scarf. It was the most transparent of excuses. And Bigglesworth was right, he didn't mind the company in the slightest.

The shop's shelves were nearly bare, stripped by more prepared shoppers ahead of the storm, but they found most of the things on Marie's list. Back out in the storm, Erich found that they were fighting the wind on their way back, and with his stick in one hand and a shopping sack in the other and the snow getting deeper, he would not have wanted to try to carry everything alone, after all.

He wouldn't want to drive to London in it, either. Bigglesworth cast a single glance at the snow-covered Bentley, and no more was said about that.

As Bigglesworth unlatched the garden gate and then rammed it open against the snow, Erich looked up at the cottage. The light streaming from the windows through the snow looked like it belonged on a Christmas card. He saw the shadow of Marie moving behind the windows, and suspected they would open the door to freshly made tea and a built-up fire on the hearth.

Inside, there was everything he had not had for so many years. Warmth. Companionship. A place to belong. He wondered abruptly which item in the groceries they were going to pass off as the reason for Bigglesworth's errand, or if Marie had simply turned around to find him gone. Either way, he suspected she understood.

Bigglesworth cleared his throat, and Erich looked at him: cheeks flushed, smiling, snowflakes melting on his shoulders and his fair eyelashes. As always, his gaze was direct and steady and honest. He said nothing, but that look was all warm invitation: Come inside, out of the cold.

And Erich did.

#biggles #biggles books #james bigglesworth #erich von stalhein #marie janis

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themissingnumbers · 11 months ago

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HOW IT FEELS TO DISAPPEAR: DESCENT

Note: well, it's all downhill from here. also FUCK its 2am again. WARNINGS: Scopophobia, Disturbing Imagery, Blood. FIRST || PREV | NEXT ["I was just wondering if you were ready to go!"]

Thinking quickly, you decide to just play innocent. If you can't lie, why not just... Avoid the truth?

"I was just wondering if you were ready to go!" you exclaim, folding your hands behind your back and smiling down at him. He looks up at you, quirking an eyebrow. He looks like he wants to question you further, but... He sighs, and just shakes his head.

"Not yet bud. Sorry," he replies simply. "You can go on ahead, though. I'll be fine. 'sides, I didn't exactly ask you to come in the first place, did I?"

You feel your cheeks heat up a bit. He's got you there- you had really insisted on tagging along, and here you are, wandering off and trying to drag him away before he wants to leave... How rude!

He must notice how you're quietly kicking yourself, because his expression softens into a warm smile.

"Hey- don't sweat it. Remember, we're neighbors, Leaf. You can come and bug me any time you want. Promise."

That gets you to calm down a little. Sometimes you forget, you'll admit... You're lucky that Blue turned out to be so patient with you, despite everything.

You're grateful to have him by your side.

"You got it!" you finally chime in reply. "Well... I guess in that case- I'll see you soon, okay? I'll make sure to come over!"

He nods, standing up before you get on your way. You can see him mulling something over in his mind, judging by the look on his face...

Before you can question, he leans in, squeezing you tight in a hug.

The worry of oh Gods what if he feels the bag flashes across your mind, but...

You can tell that's not what he's doing. You relax into your friends arms, returning the gesture with all the warmth you can muster.

After a long moment, Blue pulls away, averting his gaze and rubbing a hand over his eyes.

"Alllllright, get outta here," he insists, "And don't tell anyone I'm going soft, you got that?!"

You beam and nod quickly. "Course! Big Bad Blue Oak being a hugger... Your secret's safe with me!" you chime, before turning to jog off towards the exit.

"I'll come visit soon!!!" you call over your shoulder, waving goodbye. You see him wave back at you, before you lose sight of him as you hop down the stairs.

Once you're outside of the tower, you call out your Dragonite, and fly home. You hope to visit Blue tomorrow... But for now, you've got an Eevee to take care of.

...

Two weeks pass.

Trying to nurse the Eevee back to health has been more difficult than you anticipated. You've tried everything. You've fed and watered it well, played with it, slept with it, tried a whole variety of medicines and home remedies.

No matter what you tried, its condition just won't improve, and it looks just like how you found it, if not worse. Worried about deeper ailments, you even managed to drag it into a Pokemon center last week, in spite of its screams and protests. The nurses did a checkup and everything- nothing abnormal came up, other than the stuff you already knew, that it was scrawny and runty and whatever. The only remarkable things you took away from the visit was the surprising strength of the claws on the little bugger, and that weirdo Nurse Joy who told you to "be careful with a Pokemon like that."

It's like they assumed you just waltzed in with an untrained wild Eevee!

It frustrated you so much that you just went back to trying to treat it yourself. Of course, Eevee calmed down as soon as you got home, and you've barely left the house since then- you can't bear to leave it alone for how bad its separation anxiety is.

At least it doesn't act up at home like it did in the Center... Other than that one day, it's been nothing but a little angel for you.

... You're regretting not getting out more, and you wish so badly you could just take it with- especially to visit your friend, like you keep meaning to... But you've noticed, every time you mentioned visiting your neighbor, Eevee freaks out and hides. You figure it's one of those abused Pokemon that's afraid of men, honestly. The thought makes you chuckle- a cruel means of gender affirmation for the boy, if you could tell him. But... You've decided to continue keeping its care a secret from him for now.

Still, not leaving the house as much as you do usually is taking a toll. You feel like you're coming down with some kind of awful cabin fever- For one, you've started losing your appetite... Add on general weakness, sleeping in later and going to bed earlier, and increasingly frequent headaches, and you'd have already been worried.

But these past few days have gotten... Severe.

You think you're starting to hallucinate.

White figures peering through your windows. Whispers in the back of your mind. Bloodstains throughout your house.

You've decided this has gotten bad enough. You're going to the hospital.

You roll out of bed. Trudge over to your closet- throw on the simplest clothes you can find- a comfortable black dress with pockets, black slippers, and your trusty old bucket hat. You just grab your wallet and turn to leave, half-dazed as you start towards downstairs before something grabs at your legs.

Don't leave me.

You look down at the Eevee, as it chirps, cries, and paws at you fearfully. In the exhausted state you're in, you'd almost forgotten about your little buddy.

Despite how much it hates leaving the house...

#how it feels to disappear: descent #blue gary oak #leaf aoyama #loneliness the eevee #abandon lonliness #abandoned loneliness #missing numbers #[welcome to the exact point in the story where things stop being normal!]#scopophobia #pokepasta #[if you like junji ito inspired horror art you should give this one a read (accidentally spent 2hrs on one image)]

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