#I’m fine and then out of nowhere I feel totally hollow

[mochiwrites]

“Scar?”

Grian pokes his head around their tower, squinting against the desert sun poking in through the windows. The recently turned red name is nowhere to be found, much to Grian’s confusion.

Things have been quiet since they returned to the desert after taking a few stops around the server. Grian had dropped off some things in a chest, stopping at the lilacs and poppies on his person. The flowers were carefully deposited in a pot before Grian moved to crafting up some more TNT.

Ever since getting back, Scar had been out of sight, and suspiciously quiet.

Grian had only lasted about thirty minutes of TNT crafting before getting up and going to search for his partner.

Which leads him to his current search, walking around the tower to find the red name.

“Scaaar?” he calls out to him, brows furrowing. He checks the main room of the tower before the smaller rooms and upstairs. Still, nothing. It leaves Grian confused and very bewildered. “Where on earth could that mad man be?” he questions.

There’s a bump that comes from above him, and he looks up. Ah.

Grian heads over to the ladder, grabbing the rings and hauling himself up until he reaches the very top of their tower and — Scar is right there, back facing him. Something in Grian relaxes at that, relief filling his lungs like it’s air.

“There you are, Scar. I was starting to wo—”

“Don’t take another step, G.” Scar’s voice comes out in a rush, cutting Grian off before he can move any closer to him.

Grian freezes where he is, words dying on his tongue as his wings snap close to his back. He stares at Scar, specifically at the back of his head, confused. “Okay?” he says. “Are you… alright, Scar?” There’s a crease between his brows forming, concern settling under his skin.

“Oh me? I’m just peachy! As good as can be, really!” Scar replies, but his voice is too grand, lilt just a bit too high pitched and forced and Grian knows he’s set his mask on.

(The thought of Scar wearing a mask when it’s just the two of them makes Grian’s chest twist.)

“You don’t have to worry about lil ol’ me, Grian. I’ll join you downstairs in a few minutes.” Scar waves him off, and Grian can imagine the way his lips curl into a placating smile. But that won’t work on Grian.

Instead, he takes a slow step forward. “Well when you disappear for an hour while being red it’s a bit concerning,” he replies. He takes another step, and as he closes the distance between himself and Scar, he sees the man stiffen.

“Just needed some fresh air! You know how it is, the air can all hot and stuffy down there!”

“It’s the desert, Scar.” Really, what did he expect?

Scar chuckles, but the sound rings hollow in Grian’s ears, flat. He doesn’t like it. “Right, right! Which is why fresh air is important! It’s not good for the lungs to be inhaling all those dust particles.”

The entire time Scar talks, he doesn’t look at Grian. Not once. He keeps his back to him, never glancing behind him or turning around to meet his eyes. Something that Grian knows is important to Scar when he’s talking to people. He always said managing eye contact and looking at people was a big component in striking deals with them. It’s how he reads them.

Perhaps Scar just doesn’t need to look at him, doesn’t need to read him.

Maybe he’d be more willing to believe that if he didn’t see the tension in Scar’s shoulders.

With a deepened frown, Grian reaches out to Scar, taking hold of his wrist. “Scar,” he says, causing the man to jump when they make contact. “What’s going on?”

Scar feels stiff under Grian’s touch. “What makes you think there’s anything wrong?”

“I’m not stupid,” he huffs, giving Scar’s wrist a soft squeeze, “you haven’t looked at me once.” Look at me, please, look at me.

The red name falls silent, stilling completely. He leaves his wrist in Grian’s grip, skin warm against his fingers. “You sure I can’t spin some fancy words and convince you I’m totally fine?” Scar eventually answers. “Because I am! Completely and totally fine.”

Grian doesn’t believe him. “You’re a bad liar, Scar.” He isn’t, not really. Scar is a master at weaving lies together, spinning the story the way he wants and pulling everyone along for the ride. But in moments like these, where it’s just the two of them, and Scar is trying to convince Grian of something he doesn’t believe, Grian doesn’t fall for it.

“Should’ve known it wouldn’t work on you,” Scar mutters, shaking his head. “You’re too good, G.”

“I’m just good at seeing through you,” Grian retorts. He squeezes Scar’s wrist again. “Now will you please just stop avoiding my quest—”

Scar cuts him off again, but this time it’s face him. His red eyes stare into Grian’s green ones, and Grian freezes where he stands. There’s a sad and solemn smile on Scar’s face, and when he speaks, his voice makes Grian ache, “I’m hideous, G.”

“What?” Grian breathes, staring at him with confusion. He’s still holding Scar’s wrist. “What are you on about?”

“Just look at me!” Scar exclaims, face twisting with conflict. “I’m all red now! And my skin is gray! I’m like a — a walking corpse!” His eyes drop to the ground as he hangs his head, and Grian can’t help but imagine an upset puppy. Maybe the comparison isn’t too far off. “I’m completely hideous, Grian. How can you even stand to look at me?” I didn’t want you to see me like this.

Grian stares at him, attempting to process what Scar has just told him and— no. This sort of look on Scar is all kinds of wrong. It just doesn’t suit him. It doesn’t belong on him. Grian certainly doesn’t like it. Not when… not when Scar is one of the most handsome men he’s ever met. Red or otherwise.

He swallows thickly, feeling his hands start to shake with slight nerves as he lets go of Scar’s wrist. “No. You’re not.” He speaks with finality, leaving no room for Scar to argue with him. “You are not hideous, Scar.”

Grian takes a breath.

And then he reaches out to cup his hands around Scar’s face. The man obviously startles at the sudden touch, wide red eyes lifting to meet Grian’s. His mouth is open in shock, a little ‘o’ forming. He stares, caught off guard.

“Far from it, actually. And you hardly look like a corpse, certainly not cold like one.” Grian stares at Scar as he says it. “I happen to quite enjoy the way you look, actually. Your eyes are—” he stops himself, trying to fight down his embarrassment. He already knows that Scar won’t let him live this down after he says it. He’s never going to hear the end of it. But he’s doing this for Scar. For Scar. “Your eyes are… pretty. I like the shade of red.”

Scar sucks in a short little breath, and Grian can feel his face start to warm. “You… think my eyes are pretty?” he asks, sounding a little breathless.

Embarrassed, Grian slowly nods.

There’s a matching blush that rises to Scar’s cheeks now, and his hands lift to take gentle hold of Grian’s wrists. His touch is soft, kind. He keeps Grian’s hands on his face, leaning into the touch.

“You aren’t afraid of me?” Scar quietly questions him, hesitant and fearful of the answer.

“Out of everyone Scar, I have the least reason to fear you,” Grian answers, lifting a brow. “You’re leading around a bee on a lead, for crying out loud! And you’re attached to a llama.”

“And an avian,” Scar mutters so quietly under his breath that Grian nearly misses it. “But I’m… I’m red now. You should be afraid of me.”

Grian shakes his head, trying to ignore how warm his face is. How Scar’s own face mirrors his. “I’m not. If anything I’m afraid for you.” Scar can die at any moment now and that’d be it. He’d be gone. Slipping right out of Grian’s grasp like grains of sand.

“Oh,” Scar says, and Grian thinks he could laugh. It isn’t often he renders Scar speechless.

He sees Scar relax then, watching the way he leans forward until their foreheads are pressed together. Grian doesn’t let go of his face, and Scar doesn’t let go of his wrists.

“You like my eyes,” Scar mumbles, something giddy in his voice as he speaks.

“Yeah,” Grian admits quietly. “There’s a bit about you I like.”

A wide smile splits Scar’s face, and he’s beaming at Grian, and Grian knows his words will come back to bite him. Scar likes teasing him with them, unfortunately.

“No take backs!” Scar exclaims, lifting his head up to grin at him, and Grian can’t help his amused little huff.

“No take backs,” he agrees, nodding. Scar is smiling at him like he’s hung the sun, and the attention makes Grian want to squirm. Instead, he fondly rolls his eyes and uses his grip on Scar’s face to pull him down. He brushes their lips together. “You’re not hideous,” he mumbles against them. “And if I ever hear you say that again I’ll beat you with my wing.”

Scar laughs quietly, nodding. “Aye aye, Captain Grian. Next time I’ll think about how pretty you think my eyes are instead,” he teases, but Grian gets the underlying message. Thank you.

“You better,” is all Grian says before catching Scar’s lips in a proper kiss. Scar is more than happy to lean into it, one of his hands slipping around Grian’s waist. “Red or not you’re still Scar,” Grian tells them when they pull apart for air.

Scar looks at him with wide, adoring and grateful eyes. Grian hardly gets a second to catch his breath before Scar’s lips are on his again.

[glowingbadger]

Okay uhm so awepgowegjpoi I'm posting an OC smut piece for the first time cause a couple of you said you were okay hearing about OCs a bit (don't worry this is still a 99.9% fandom blog lmao) and I just got this whole scenario so badly stuck in my brain that I literally couldn't think about writing anything else until I finished it, so... to the two or three of you out there who read this, I love you and I hope that someone you like consensually kisses you on the mouth.

background info crash course:

setting: Pokemon cyberpunk dystopia (you heard me) Though I will admit that for this piece in particular, since it's smut, the actual Pokemon stuff really takes a back seat lmao

Shaeleigh: an up-and-coming Pokemon trainer. She's a somewhat spoiled young woman, but with a good heart. While very conventionally attractive and feminine (character illustration here), she has very unconventional tastes in both Pokemon and men. Her greatest goal is to open a private shelter for unwanted and retired Pokemon, which will require a huge amount of money, experience and clout.

Professor Shoot: the young and somewhat quirky professor responsible for overseeing Shae's progress, along with her fellow trainers, Mooey and Steig. Shae is desperately in love with him, despite the obvious obstacles involved in pursuing him.

Terry: a monstrously strong man who can literally wrestle full-grown Pokemon; he's a powerful and respected gang leader, more of a warlord in the rough and chaotic underbelly of the city. Despite this, Shae deeply respects his sense of honor and individual freedom.

The Smut vvv

The worst of it all was that he had kissed her back, if only for a few precious moments.  Shae had gotten to feel him lean towards her, cup her face in his hand, part his lips for her tongue.  Sensations that she had longed for, that she knew she would never be able to wrest from her memories.  And then, he’d pulled away. 

“We- I…” Professor Shoot was breathless, holding onto her shoulders while resolutely avoiding her gaze, “I can’t.”

She tried to move to him, to touch him.

“But, Professor-”

“Shae, please.” 

He raised his eyes to hers once, briefly, then cast them low once more.

“I’m sorry.  You- you’re a trainer under my care, and with my position as a Professor- the League, they would-” 

“It’s fine.” Shae cut him off.  Numbness buzzed through her limbs, radiating from her chest.  “It’s, y’know, totally fine,” Shae laughed, shrugging, “Sorry, Professor, that was, uh, really stupid of me, wasn’t it.” 

Don’t cry.  Not here, not now.  Hold it in. 

“Shae…” his hand reached toward her, and this time, she took a step back.  He looked hurt, and in a horrible, savage way, she was glad.  She wanted him to carry at least some small fraction of this feeling.

“It’s fine,” she repeated, “I get it.  I’ll, uh.  I’ll stop bugging you.”

Don’t cry.

Shaeleigh barely remembered ordering the Autocab.  She remembered going to get picked up even less; her limbs all felt distant, separate from her somehow.  Her body was nowhere, untethered and yet so, so heavy.  Her mind was everywhere, and she hated it.  Now, in the back seat with only the automated driver up front for company, she felt that perhaps she should cry.  But she couldn’t.  She considered, too, that she could hold one of her beloved Pokemon close and let them bring her some amount of comfort.  But she quickly realized that she didn’t want any of them to see her like this.  Shellder and Raticate had both seen her cry before- but they had never seen her hollow. 

She kept recalling those sensations.  The professor’s hair was soft to the touch, clean and smooth.  His tongue tasted of berries, and the detail had made her smile into their kiss when she’d noticed it.  His lips were soft, his body so much warmer than anything else in those sterile offices lining the League’s headquarters. 

“I can’t.” 

The knife twisted in her heart at the thought.  She needed to escape the things stuck to the scraped and raw surfaces of her mind- the good, the bad, all of it.  All of him.  She needed something to supplant these thoughts, exorcize him from her body’s memory.  For as long as his were the last lips that had touched hers, she would be trapped by this feeling. 

[I want to see you.]

The words glowed harshly back up at her from the vintage smartphone in her hand, a finger hovering over ‘send’.  It was idiotic, possibly even risky.  What kind of person goes running from the rejection of their professor and into the arms of a criminal?  Shae’s lips pressed together.  She could just go back to the apartment she shared with Mooey and Steig.  There was no telling how much either of them would even understand about her feelings.  Just because she trusted them with her life didn’t mean they needed to listen to her gut herself empty.  

Shae thought of Terry.  Strong, honorable, straightforward.  He could make her forget, even if just for a little while.  So she pressed send, and soon after, received an address in reply.  

The autocab dropped her off in Octant Six, on the building’s thirtieth floor landing, which left twenty six more to descend to her destination.  It was deeper than most citizens of Omnia would ever find themselves- deep enough to cross into the Sprawl, where manmade landscapes lay in near total disuse, suspended in the space between the present and past.  Shae’s brother had always claimed that, before society built upward, these places were bustling hubs- shopping malls and massive school campuses and apartment complexes all cramped up together like bodies squeezing into an elevator.  Now, they were more akin to ruins.  Shae had always taken for granted that they’d been long abandoned, but she knew now that those on the fringes of society made their homes here.  Those who fell between the cracks, between skyscrapers and skybridges, landed in the Sprawl. 

Her wedge heels tapped lightly on the bare concrete floors down the hall.  She wasn’t even certain if anyone lived in the other apartment units she passed, but she felt self-conscious of her own footsteps regardless.  She tried to walk confidently, like her father had always told her.  Head up, eyes straight ahead, steps firm.  But when she double-checked the apartment number at the end of the hall and knocked on the door, the sound was hesitant, delicate.  

Terry opened the door to her while pushing his long mane of dreadlocks over his shoulder.  It only then occurred to Shae that she’d never seen him fully out of his power armor before.  The sight of him in close-fitted black under-armor strangely made him seem all the more sturdy and imposing.  His bare musculature was a sight to behold, and she noted the way the fabric hugged tight across his chest and shoulders with particular appreciation. 

“Shaeleigh.” his voice was low, yet she felt it reverberating through her.  He wore a strange, knowing expression, “I had not expected to see you so soon.  Come.” 

He gestured her inside, and Shae followed with her stomach flipping restlessly all the while.  She only took a moment to glance around her surroundings.  It looked how she expected it to look- mostly.  Sparse, utilitarian, a box of raw building materials with an old-fashioned mattress bed in the far corner, a cramped shower behind a cracked door, and a stove that might have been pilfered from a restaurant that went out of business a decade or two ago.  She only briefly glanced over the rack holding his bulky power-armor upright near the door, flanked by the cement-laden crossing sign sledge that served as his weapon.  The sight might startle someone who hadn’t met him as the brutal warlord, the uncompromising force of nature that he was.  Shae was simply impressed at the relatively bloodstain-free state of them. 

Here and there, an object would stand out like it had been sloppily collaged into the room.  A well used, but plush and luxurious armchair rested beside an end table that had clearly suffered at least one half-repaired broken leg.  On that table sat a set of pristine liquor glasses- real glass, by the looks of it, not the usual synthetic blend.  A vibrant, hand-painted image of the sun rising or setting over a mountain range accented the wall across from this seating arrangement, with a wired television set interrupting the space in between.  If Shae considered these bizarre fineries for a moment, she would recognize them for what they were: the spoils of war.  But she wasn’t here to consider a damn thing tonight. 

She heard Terry close the door behind her, then felt him near, a strong arm easing around her waist far more gently than she’d expected.

“What can I do to make you feel more comfortable?”

Her shock-pink eyes met his steady gaze.  Her heart thudded.  His large, calloused hand ran across the exposed small of her back, and Shae’s hands traveled up the muscled contours of his chest, fingers gripping around the fabric of his shirt.  When she spoke at last, her voice was breathy, whispering in the miniscule space between his lips and hers. 

“Fuck me until I can’t think.” 

Terry almost smiled, and his lips brushed hers when he replied,

“Then that is what I will do.”

His arm tightened around her, holding her flush against his powerful frame and even lifting her feet an inch or two from the floor as he kissed her firmly.  Shae clung to the front of his clothes and kissed him back with all of the anxious heat writhing in her veins.  His tongue thrust past her lips to meet hers, and she returned every ounce of passion he gave, sighing eagerly into his mouth with her hands sliding up his chest.  Yes, this was exactly what she needed.  For tonight, at least, she could convince herself that the ache in her body was for him, and him alone. 

Her hands wandered down his torso once more, playing at the bottom hem of his shirt for a moment, then sneaking her fingertips beneath it.  

“So eager,” Terry said, low and rumbling between kisses.  

“I need you,” Shae half-moaned, making a feeble attempt at tugging his shirt up even as her body pressed to his.  He let out a low, approving hum and grabbed a handful of her ass, pulling her more firmly against him. 

“And you will have me, in time.” 

With that, he released her, tugging his shirt over his head and tossing it onto the nearby armchair.  Shae subconsciously bit at her lower lip.  His body was rock solid all over, his skin rich and dark and beautiful, even riddled with scars as it was.  Each subtle shift and flex of his muscles filled her with renewed urgency, but she wrangled her composure and shrugged off her jacket, discarding it with her shoes on the floor.  When she turned back towards Terry, she saw him watching her, eyes burning with unabashed lust.  She adored the way he looked at her.  She adored the way he wanted her. 

He continued openly admiring her as she, perhaps a bit more slowly than was necessary, pulled her sports bra up over her breasts and let her substantial chest bounce free before him.  Her leggings and panties went next, slid down her deliberately swaying hips at just the right angle for him to take in her figure.  She noticed the corner of his lip curl into an appreciative grin as he took her in, but as much as she enjoyed feeling the hunger in his eyes, Shae was in no mood to waste time.  The more space she gave her thoughts, the greater the risk of them catching up to her.  So instead, she returned to his arms and let him guide her onto his bed beneath him.  

Terry’s large hand caressed her cheek with fingers spread into her hair as he kissed her against the mattress, and the wave of dizzy pleasure through her body filled Shae with relief.  She gave a mewling, pleading moan, and her body arched up against the unyielding hardness of his frame.  Her teeth nipped at his lower lip, and she felt him smile at her impatience.  Then, as his kiss began to travel down the side of her neck, her nails dragged into his hair and her eyes fluttered half-closed. 

“Mark me,” she demanded, though her voice came as a shaky sigh. 

“I do not often take orders,” he said, though next she felt the sting of his teeth at her throat, sucking a dark crimson bruise onto her fair skin.  Shae replied with a groan, and tried to nudge him closer to her with her heel at the back of his thigh.  Her nails raked down his back, desperate to provoke him.  Then, his hand at her cheek urged her to look him in the eye.

"Do not be hasty," his thumb brushed across her bottom lip, "I want you wet enough to take me."

The heat in her belly roared to life at this, and she could only wordlessly nod.  With that, Terry turned his focus to her breasts.  Large enough to fill his hands and then some, he palmed one, fondling it and savoring the plump softness of her body, while his lips attended to the other.  His tongue circled one nipple while his fingers rolled and pinched the other, and each stiffened immediately in response.

"Ohh…" Shae's head turned to the side on his pillow, "Mmm, Terry…" 

He drew her nipple into his mouth, sucking at it for a moment before switching to give its twin equal attention. Shae squirmed happily beneath him all the while, reveling in the firm way he handled her.  He was never harsh or overly rough, but he made sure she felt him; felt his hands running along her body, his breath hot on her skin, his mouth kissing, biting, pleasing her.  

Soon, he began to kiss a path down the center of her torso, his lips hot between her breasts, along her abdomen, until he reached the smooth softness of her belly.  Here, just below her navel, he bit down once more.  Shae arched upward again as she gasped into the quiet surrounding them, fingers curling in the dreads of his hair.  By the time he moved on from this spot, he’d granted her one more conspicuous pink mark, tender to the touch and unmistakable at a glance.  It was unlikely that her usual clothing would hide it.  She thought of Steig or, more likely, Mooey catching sight of it and meeting her with that knowing look.  She wondered whether the Professor would notice.  

Don’t think about him.

Terry parted her thighs before him and lowered his head while his fingers spread her lower lips.  Then, his tongue-

“Fuck-” Shae breathed in, toes curling, legs twitching in around him.  Terry held fast at her thighs, forcing them to stay open for him while he worked.  His tongue ran up the length of her slit, teasing her entrance only briefly before coming to stroke rhythmically across her clit.  Instantly, she felt a new rush of heat rising to her skin.  Every nerve in her body seemed centralized around the warm, rolling sensation of him lavishing the little nub with attention.  His lips sealed around the surrounding sensitive flesh while his tongue teased and flicked and rubbed, the pleasure unrelenting, pushing her ever closer to release.  

“Fuck, Te-Terry..!  So… so good..!” Shae panted and pleaded for him, and he gave no reply aside from his continued service to her needy cunt.  Truly, she had never known that a man’s tongue could feel so forceful, yet so sensual- like he was demanding her pleasure.  Her hips rocked against him, greedily seeking more, and he uttered an approving growl, his hands gripping more forcefully at the swell of her thighs, though he never eased in his efforts to propel her towards her climax.  If anything, her unabashed ecstasy seemed to encourage him, drive him to push her further, to utterly satisfy the woman in his bed. 

With his lips applying pressure around her most sensitive nerves and the tip of his tongue stroking her clit in firm, tight circles, Shae felt herself rapidly approaching her climax.  Her hips lifted just slightly from the bed as her body tensed.  Her chest heaved with her panting breath as her fingers clenched, one hand in Terry's hair and the other at the pillow behind her.  Then, legs trembling, she gasped out his name once more as the tingling warmth of her orgasm swept through her center and across her skin. 

Terry didn't let up until he felt Shae's body relax beneath him.  Then, he straightened his back, looming over her with her legs slung around his hips as he tossed his hair back over his shoulders.  When her hazy eyes met his, her legs wrapped more tightly around him, a flimsy attempt to pull him closer and plead for more.  He wore that same subdued grin, but at last, she watched as he undid the front of his pants and tugged them down to free his hardened cock.  Shae's pulse sped, and she let out an unfamiliar low, whimpering sound.

"So big…" she breathed out, squirming with excitement at the mere thought of that powerful tower of flesh entering her.  He was easily the biggest Shae had ever been with, long and thick and perfectly accented by a bulging vein or two running up the shaft.  Terry let out a short breath through his nose, not even quite a laugh, but enough to indicate that he was accustomed to this response.  No wonder he'd insisted on getting her wet and ready to take him. 

Without a word, he led her onto her stomach, and Shae eagerly followed.  In fact, the moment she regained her focus, she made sure to make something of a show of presenting herself to him.  With her head low and arms hugging the pillow that carried Terry's masculine scent, she propped up her lower body on her knees and arched her back.  As she watched him briefly stand to finish removing his remaining clothing, her spine curved like a stretching Persian, her legs spread wide as she playfully wiggled her hips just a little.  When he kneeled behind her once more, she felt his hand slap the side of her ass- not hard enough to sting, but enough to watch the way it jiggled in response.  Then, just when she was ready to beg to feel him, the warm head of his cock pressed between her lower lips.  It rubbed tantalizingly against her until he aligned it with her entrance, and with both hands now fixed at her hips, Terry began to push into her. 

"Ohhhh…" Shae saw white, her grip on the pillow tightening as his hard, thick member began to stretch her open around him.  He filled her completely, driving slowly deeper until she felt him hit her core. She had never felt anything near this size before, and the overwhelming stimulation soon had her body shuddering once again.  

Now buried into her warm, wet hole to the base, Terry gave a subdued groan, a strong hand cupping and fondling her ass.

"You feel good, Shaeleigh."

Before she could reply, he began to move his hips.  Starting slow but firm, he thrust the incredible length of his cock into her, each pass sending a shiver up her spine.  Shae could tell he was restraining himself- just barely -giving her the chance to adjust to his mind-numbing size before gradually increasing his pace.  Rallying whatever strength was left in her pleasure-dazed body, Shae began shifting herself back against his thrusts, but this was a short-lived effort.  With a low grunt, Terry held more firmly at her hips and took full control of their pace.  He pulled her back onto his cock each time he drove it into her, and now she could feel a spark of discomfort in her belly as he fucked her deeper than any man ever had.  She loved it- the pain blended nicely with the pleasure, consuming all of her senses, pulling her focus, for a time.  But as her eyes rolled back and then eventually fluttered shut, her mind reached itself outward for the briefest of moments. 

She wondered how the Professor would feel on top of her.  She wondered how he would fuck her, how he would look at her.  His face, gentle and kind, began to form in her thoughts.

Don’t.

“Tuh… Terry…” Shae barely managed between breathless moans.  

He slowed his punishing thrusts, still moving just enough to massage the veined shaft of his cock against her, holding her against him with a hand groping her ass.

“Wanna… I wanna face you… please?”

The mountain of a man behind her gave a short hum, then acquiesced, easing his length from her even as her pussy clenched around him.  Shae slumped down onto the bed, and was grateful that Terry helped turn her onto her back, but this was all the patience he would afford her now.  His muscular arms hooked under her knees, spreading her legs wide as he pushed back into her.  

Shae’s bright pink eyes locked on Terry and watched the subtle shift in his expression as he felt her warmth around him once again.  She was certain a man like him had no shortage of willing partners, so to see the pleasure he felt from her alone in this moment set her pulse pounding.  Bit by bit, she took in everything she could about him; she memorized the scars adorning his chest, noted the handsome hint of gray in his hair at his temples, learned the way his jaw clenched when he felt her pussy tighten and squeeze around him.  His eyes devoured her, watching her face flush and her breasts bounce as he fucked deeper and deeper into her soaking wet cunt.  Shae gasped and whined happily, spurring him on, now reveling in the wonderful ache of him pounding all the way to her center.  

Finally, the noise was gone.  Everything was gone, everything besides the powerful figure over her who filled her, surrounded her, drove her into dizzying, mindless bliss.  “Yes,” and “more,” spilled carelessly from her lips, and Terry was happy to oblige.  At some point- she couldn’t recall when -her legs were lifted up onto his shoulders, folded back towards her as he leaned over her and buried his thick member into her abused little cunt.  He was done holding back.  The bed creaked and shook beneath them, and Shae distantly wondered that it was even able to withstand the force of his thrusts.  Her eyes blurred and slightly crossed, but shot back into focus when she felt his thumb rubbing firm against her clit.  

By now, she could hardly make a sound, let alone speak, so she surrendered completely to him as his cock throbbed deep within her and his touch sent jolts of pleasure through her more delicate nerves.  His weight on top of her and the grip of his free hand at her hip held her so decidedly in place that she could only endure the feeling of her mounting climax.  Those dark brown eyes of his narrowed, his brow lowered, and at last, Terry was visibly panting as well.  

“That’s it,” he grunted, thrusting in her to the base and holding, his touch redoubling at her tender clit, “Cum for me, Shaeleigh.” 

She couldn’t have resisted him if she wanted to; it felt too good, welled up and enveloped her.  Her hands clung to his arms, nails digging down his skin, though she doubted he even felt it.  Then, in a messy, blissed-out daze, her body flooded with warmth, swept in his current until her head was swimming and her limbs all went limp. 

“Ohhh…” her breath was heavy, her head tilted back on his pillow.  

Then, he slowly pulled back, and then drove forward, stuffing her full and forcing a gasp past her lips.  With her legs heavy and largely immoble, Terry repositioned her easily on his own.  He lowered them from his shoulders, propping her thighs up over his.  Then, he took hold of her hips in both of his powerful hands and pulled her against him, lifting her entire lower body to meet his and tugging  her closer to him on the bed.  She whimpered pathetically as he manhandled her, just barely managing the strength to wrap her legs snug around his midsection.  At this angle, each thrust dragged the head of his cock along some incredible spot behind her clit and pushed him as deep as he would fit.  His thick shaft was coated in her release down to the base, allowing him to pound into her at a consistently relentless pace.  

Shae’s lips hung parted, her eyes fought to remain trained on the hulking man above her.  The more pleasure and pain her body endured, the more sensation she took in, the more perfectly vacant her mind became.  In the midst of this near-meditative state, she finally felt Terry buck into her more harshly- once, then again.  Then, with a low, animal groan that resonated through Shae’s entire frame, he held her down on his cock as it twitched and swelled, spilling deep inside of her waiting pussy.  

“Mmm… ohhh, fuck, yes…” Shae whimpered with a hazy smile as Terry continued to fill her, his massive length throbbing against her over-stimulated inner walls.  By the time she felt his grip on her relax and his muscles slack, she was dripping with him, thick cum staining her inner thighs and drooling lazily from her cunt. 

When Terry finally eased his member from her, coated in the mixture of their release, he let out a short, but contented exhale.  Then, he grinned down at the mess of a woman left panting softly on his bed.  

“Satisfied?”  

Shae convinced her eyes to meet his, ignoring the way her legs still visibly trembled.

“For… For now…” She swallowed, took a breath, blinked a few times, “You?”

“For now,” Terry replied with a low chuckle.  

Shae wondered how Terry even fit into his own shower.  It was a tight vertical box, tidy and functional enough, but clearly makeshift in design.  She herself wasn’t familiar enough with such fixtures to say, but looking up at the showerhead, she thought it may be a repurposed fire sprinkler.  

The piping in the walls made an alarming “thunk” sound when she shut off the water, causing her eyebrows to rise for a moment.  All seemed well, so she shrugged and grabbed the towel from a hook drilled into the wall.  By the texture and wear of it, it must be fairly old, though clean.  Shae stood in the empty shower, rubbing the fabric between her fingers, her stare distant and vague. 

If he had wanted to, Professor Shoot could have checked in on her using the League-standard surveillance software in her phone.  She’d left it in the pocket of her jacket, mere feet away from the bed.  She imagined him hearing her- hearing her cry out another man’s name, hearing her give herself to Terry.  Would he hurt?  Would he care?  Had he bothered to check in on her at all?

Shae sighed and shook her head, finally present enough to start drying herself.  Terry probably had some sort of signal-jammer installed in this flat.  It was unlikely the Professor could reach her here either way.  So much the better, she told herself.  As she ran the worn towel across her body, she noted that this, too, carried Terry’s scent.  For a moment, she considered that she would leave here smelling of his body, his bed, his soap and his towel.  It brought her an odd sense of comfort- like she could submerge herself in him and simply drown away. 

Holding the towel to her front with one hand, Shae returned to the main room to find Terry pouring a deep amber liquor into the glasses she’d noted when she’d first arrived.  He was half dressed, his awe-inspiring upper body still bare.  Her eyes wandered over him as she approached, and he sat in the finely upholstered armchair as though it were his throne.  Unphased by her state of undress, he held out a drink to her, but Shae only took it after sliding up onto his lap and straddling his hips.  The corner of his mouth curled with amusement, but he made no protest.  

They each drank from their glasses, and if Shae’s confidence with the potently burning liquor surprised him any, he didn’t show it.  Instead, it was Shae who found herself taken aback.  This was excellent whiskey- prohibitively expensive for the vast majority.  She had only had it a few times before, when her father had hosted coworkers at their home and felt compelled to impress.

“Fire Fang?” 

Terry smiled.

“You know your drink,” there was a note of approval in his voice.  He must have seen the disbelief in her expression, as he added, “It was a gift from a business partner of mine.”

She felt no need to press for details.  Instead, she took another long sip from her glass, enjoying the complex flavors as they spread across her tongue.  The drink had a bite to it that many would find intolerable, but Shae felt that it only pleasantly accented the richness of its profile.  Though, she recalled, she had only acquired the taste for such “manly” drinks at her father’s encouragement.  Part of her had to admit that she still preferred sweet white wine.  

Terry’s hand traced around her waist, then down to the base of her spine, where he guided her closer to him.  Still holding her glass close with one hand, Shae pulled the towel out of the way and dropped it beside the chair.  Again, she felt the humming warmth in her belly at the feeling of his gaze taking in the softness of her bare curves.  When those eyes rose once more to meet hers, he said,

“I know that you came to me tonight because you were hurting,” at his words, her heart twisted like it was trying to wring itself out.  He went on, “I can help you forget, for a time, but I cannot heal you.”

The smile she wore was sad, and just a touch bitter, as she stared down at her own eyes reflected up at her from the whiskey in her hand. The pink that she’d gotten dyed into her irises as a sweet sixteen present from her parents looked a sickly brown in its surface.

“I’m… still just a stupid little girl,” she nearly laughed, “I’m so naive- playing at being a trainer all this time.  Mooey and Steig are both made for that kind of life- they can do anything.  In all likelihood, someday I’ll just be some businessman’s trophy wife to be shown off at corporate events.  Just like my own mother.” 

Terry didn’t respond at first, and she wasn’t sure whether he was considering her words or merely giving her the space to air her thoughts fully.  He drank slowly, then set down his glass on the table beside him.  

“If that is the life that you desire, there will be plenty of men eager to claim you.  But that sort of man,” he said with clear distaste, “would not deserve you.” 

Shae didn’t know what to say, so she drank instead.  If nothing else, the glass would hide some of her face.  Terry watched her with a measured stare as he went on,

“Your allies are capable, but you are every bit their equal, even if your skills are of a different sort.  You have risen above challenges that your life did not prepare you for, and you have done so with honor.  I have known countless warriors of many strengths in my years in the Sprawl,” he raised a hand to her chin, guiding her line of sight to him, “You are as much a warrior as any I have met.” 

Her glass nearly empty, Shae placed it on the table beside his.  She tried to think of something to say, but all she managed was,

“Do you mean that?”  

It was a pathetic thing to ask- moreso with her voice wavering and unsure.  Terry’s hand caressed her cheek and wove into her still-damp hair.  

“You would make a fine queen for me, Shaeleigh.  Though I know that is not the path you are on.” 

Shae’s jaw tightened, but she leaned into his touch.

“I think… maybe in another life, I am.” 

“But we are in this life,” he said, “and you have things you must do.” 

For a moment, Shae was at a loss.  True enough, the freedom of how Terry lived carried a certain appeal.  But she could never reach the goal she’d been striving for while remaining at Terry’s side.  There was sex- incredible, overwhelming sex -but that was entirely different from becoming a warlord’s queen.  It felt unfair that she would be turned away by one she wanted, then kept from another by circumstance.  But she had never planned to sacrifice her dreams for either of these men- nor any to come.  Aside from which, if Terry and the Professor could be said to be similar in any way, it was that they both believed that she could succeed.  

All of this passed through her mind in a blur.  It was too much- the noise was back, and while now some of it was hopeful, that didn’t mean she was ready to untangle and parse it all just yet.  So instead, she rested her hands on Terry’s sturdy shoulders and kissed him, slowly and deeply.  His arm around her waist tightened, holding her against his body.  She felt her breasts against his powerful chest, her stomach against his hard abdomen.  She tasted the whiskey between their tongues.  Even when she eventually parted from him to speak, she only allowed enough space between their bodies for her hand to reach downward tug at the hem of his pants.

“Fuck me again, Terry.  Please?” 

One hand moving down to grab onto her ass and the other at the back of her head with his fingers in her hair, he said, 

“If that is what you want,” his cock rapidly began to stiffen as Shae palmed the growing bulge between his thighs, running her hand along its length and visibly biting her lip at the feeling of it growing at her touch.  “I will have you until you are truly spent.  But it will not fix things.” 

Shae fumbled open the front of his pants and freed his towering cock once more, then began to align herself over it.  

“It will for as long as you last.” 

When she guided the head of his member to her entrance, he felt her already wet and needy for him, and with that, he grabbed hold of her at the waist and pushed her down onto him inch by inch, spearing into her nearly to the root. Shae gasped, her head tilting back and her nails dragging across his shoulders as he filled her.  

“Do not test me, Shaeleigh,” he warned, though when she blinked her eyes back into focus, she saw he wore a subtle smirk, “Mm, you take my cock so well… Now, show me your strength.  You are a warrior, remember?”

The sensation was so intense it momentarily set her off-balance- but Shae leaned forward against his body and rallied her leg muscles. With slow but firm movements, she pulled upward on his length, then pushed back down onto him, quickly establishing a steady rhythm as her hips swayed and her pussy clenched around him.  Her arms wrapped around his neck to support her, and before long, she was swept into the blissful high of fucking herself onto his incredible manhood.  Each pass rubbed him into her in some new indescribable way, the angle creating a completely different but equally overwhelming experience to when he railed into her from above.  Now and then, she would feel his hips shift up towards her, encouraging her, ensuring he’d hit her deepest point.  

Terry drew his lips to the column of her neck and kissed a line up to the point just below her jaw.  Here, he bit down, sucking another mark to her skin, now in a location that none of her clothes would hide even if she tried.  Shae felt her nerves come alive at the sharp and sudden feeling, and she moaned his name aloud.  Finally, she found the silence that she needed once again.  In Terry’s strong arms and full of him, she could surrender.  For now, she would let her body feel, and her mind become numb.  Tomorrow, she would attend to the noise, and she would move forward. 

[cream-and-tea]

FIND THE WORD TAG

snatching this from @albatris bc i haven’t done one in a while! my words were strike, blanket, watch, taste and good

STRIKE

fight scene! fight scene! well more like the end of one lol. pallas and calliope spend the entire book waiting for an excuse to bitemaimattack each other and when they finally get the opportunity it’s a fucking DOOZY

They expect teeth to bare in preparation for the inevitable final strike, but Calliope only cocks his head to one side, almost ponderous. All Pallas can hear is their ears ringing hollow and they muster up everything they have left to spit directly into his face. And everything freezes, and Pallas thinks this is it then this is really it, and then Calliope smiles, and then Calliope sighs, and then Calliope laughs.

BLANKET

i think i’ve shared this bit of description before in another tag game but it’s still one i’m proud of! agnes may be having a bad time lost in this forest but i’m having a great time writing descriptions lol

These woods are dangerous. That’s what they always said, Papá, Mother, even the men in white. Thick and dark and always growing. She’s grown up beside them, always at the edge, in a town full of ghosts. Now here she is in the middle of it all, surrounded by black trees twisting up to the sky, with nowhere else to go. As the sky begins to drizzle with a fine mist she looks up at gray clouds and black trees so twisted and misshapen that their branches form an interlocking web above her. Moss coats the trunks and branches and forest floor in a thick, spongy blanket.

WATCH

this one is actually the opening to the epilogue! just fiver chilling :) nothing to see here :))))

Fiver stood at the edge of a massive yawning well, looking down, or maybe looking up. He tucked his hands into his pockets and kicked a broken piece of flagstone into the darkness, watching as it disappeared.

TASTE

i think i’ve mentioned before how pallas is great for delivering exposition because they simply are that much of an insufferable nerd and this is an prime example

“Because that’s what The Library does,” finally a question they actually know how to answer. “Without it there’d be no order, no standards. We hold the last knowledge of the human race in our hands, we protect it, guard it from those who don’t deserve it and grant it to the ones that do. We’re the only ones who can stop things that shouldn’t see the light of day reaching the hands of the unworthy, we are the keepers of the gates of knowledge.” It’s an impressive spiel, one that they know from memory. In all honesty they can’t help but feel a little smug at Agnes-Maria’s surely-awe-inspired silence. It tastes like relief, thick on the back of their throat.

GOOD

agnes encounters some of the defences that surround The Library with a nice dose of pallas thinking totally normal and okay thoughts that every person definitely thinks

Agnes looks at them, then down to the long, shadowy limbs of the HaithHounds. “Okay, okay I have to go. Um, good… thingys…” She looks to Pallas again beseechingly and they sigh, moving to untangle her. Hands on her shoulders, drawing her away. As they begin to steer her down the passage one of the Hounds let’s out a little whine and padding pawsteps begin to follow behind them. Pallas turns and bares their teeth as violently as possible over their shoulder. These things aren’t living so they can’t do anything that matters, but like calls to like so they bristle and make themselves bigger and think: back off. You got your taste, I found this one fair and square.

i’ll tag @flower-s-wip-garden @chayscribbles and @nicola-writes (no pressure obviously), your words are: pulse, oh, seeth, shine and float!

[afoolforatook]

Moods

[brutal-nemesis]

Forest Day 2021: Un-cursing a Forest Tutorial (Gone Wrong)

Come into the woods with me, won’t you? I promise everything will be super normal and it’s totally not a little over 5k words hahahahahaha

Castys Masterlist

Ingredients: cannibalism mention, plant/animal/body horror (there is a lot of this and it is weird and kind of gross at times so this is your warning), acid burns, i use the word “pustules” multiple times, eye whump, gore, suicide for convenience

Castys woke up to darkness.

His head was pounding, so it was sort of nice, but much less nice when he tried to move and discovered his arms were tied behind his back. Upon further investigation, he realized he was gagged and blindfolded as well. 

Great.

He sat up and was just starting to try and get his gag out using his shoulder when a pair of hands grabbed him and hauled him to his feet. He tried to jerk out of their grasp, but a second person grabbed his other arm, and then it was all he could do to keep up as they hauled him to wherever. The ground changed from something solid feeling to something dirt-sounding, and then solid again after the creak of a door opening. 

“He’s awake, Chief.”

“Thank you. Just leave him and wait outside.” One of the men kicked the back of Castys’s legs, forcing him to his knees. He was tempted to get up once he felt their hands leave him, but he figured it would be best to just wait and see what the hell was going on for now. Once the blindfold was removed, he tried to look around, but a rough hand grabbed his chin, forcing him to look up at his captor, a strong looking woman with her dark hair in a complicated braid. She examined him with concern. “I didn’t think you would look this young.” Her free hand untied the gag, and she gently pulled it out of his mouth. “You are him, and not just some child, right?”

“Nope, just a child. A nineteen year old boy. Not immortal, so I think you’ve got the wrong guy.”

Her eyes narrowed. “I never said I was looking for an immortal.”

Castys opened and closed his mouth a few times, blinking. “I-okay that one’s on me. Hooray, you caught me.” He glared up at her. “Now what do you want?”

She let go of him, stepping back and crossing her arms. “I am Citlali, the chief of Nauhiliv’s Hollow. For centuries, my people have-”

“I’m not really in the mood for a history lesson, so just get to the-”

“Either shut up and let me talk or I will gag you again.” Castys rolled his eyes. “I promise it’s relevant, alright?”

“Fine.”

Citlali took a deep breath and began again. “For centuries, the people of Nauhiliv’s Hollow have lived as one with the forest, taking only what we need from its bounty, hunting and gathering from the lands around us. But now,” she looked away, “now the forest is...twisted. What was once a familiar place has become dark and horrifying, and they are now far too dangerous to hunt in. Everyone we have sent in to find the source of the curse has not yet returned.” She took a shuddering breath before looking back at Castys. “You, however, can’t die. So would you-”

“How much will you pay me?”

“Just...this.” She held up a small leather pouch, one that looked kind of like...Castys hurriedly looked down, feeling his stomach twist when he didn’t see the familiar string around his neck.

“You took my-give it back! How did you even find out about that?!” Castys fought to keep his voice even, his fists clenched behind him. That pouch was important to him, it had his rock that allowed him to kill himself easily and painlessly, and it also had...he just needed it, dammit.

“You’re apparently, ah, quite chatty when you’re drunk.” She twirled the pouch on her finger lazily. “So, if you lift the forest’s curse, you’ll get it back. And until then, my other half is going to keep it safe in a pocket dimension, where even a notorious thief like you can’t get to it.”

Castys’s face darkened. “That’s-if you wanted me to help you why didn’t you just, I don’t know, ask instead of fucking kidnapping me and stealing my shit?”

“Because I’ve heard tell that you’re a selfish asshole who definitely wouldn’t help us unless we paid you a ton of money or forced you to. And since we’re not exactly drowning in cash…”

Castys mulled it over for a moment, wiggling his hands against the ropes. “Yeah okay that’s fair. I still hate you, but that’s fair.”

Citlali rolled her eyes. “Are you going to do it, then? Because if not,” she stalked over and grabbed Castys’s chin tightly, forcing him to look up at her, “I could think of a different way you could help my people, immortal.”

“I promise you, I taste terrible.” Citlali flinched back, letting go of Castys’s face.

“What-no that isn’t-I meant I was going to sell you, idiot! That’s so-we’re nowhere near desperate enough to eat…” she shook her head. 

“Okay, sorry, I figured if you were desperate enough to kidnap me you were also desperate enough to want to eat me and my infinite flesh.”

“Those two are absolutely not the same level of-look, are you going to do it or not? Because if not I will sell you and keep your precious-” 

“I’ll go kill your stupid forest curse thing,” Castys sighed. “Being sold is super annoying, and escaping will be way harder without my rock.” He glanced back over his shoulder. “Can you untie me now?” 

“Do you promise not to try to run off? You won’t be able to get your pouch back by force, and this village is surrounded by these cursed woods except for a single, well guarded road, so there really won’t be any point in trying, anyway.”

“Yeah, yeah, I get it.” Castys got to his feet after she freed him, rubbing his chafed wrists as he looked down at his very empty belt. “You’re going to give me my sword back for this, right? I know I can’t die but fuck if I’m going in there without a weapon.”

“You can have your sword, and the small amount of supplies we can spare, once the sun rises and you set out. Until then,” she gestured to the door, “let Tlaloc and Meztli show you where you can sleep.” 

~~~

Castys took a deep breath as he looked up at the trees towering over him, gripping his pack tightly. They looked like normal trees to him, and he was sort of disappointed that they didn’t look...creepier? He expected this horrible cursed forest to look more horrible and cursed, especially with all the trouble that bitch went through to make him do this. He glanced back, but Citlali and the guards were still behind him, and she waved her hand at him to get going. Sighing, he started walking into the forest, hoping this whole “curse” thing was just some asshole wizard kids playing a trick. 

Soon enough, he spaced out listening to the forest sounds. The rustling of the wind in the branches, the chirping of birds, the faint screaming...wait what. No, yeah that was screaming or something. He looked around frantically for the source of it, just now noticing that the trees were...different, somehow. They sort of...shimmered, moving in a strange way. Cautiously, he approached the nearest trunk and studied it. It was...it was moving, the whole surface shifting and crawling, like it was covered completely in bugs. O-kay then. 

Moving on.

Castys wasn’t even sure what he was supposed to look for. That chief lady had really just sent him in here with the very helpful instruction of “fix it”, like he had ever un-cursed a forest before. He didn’t know where he was supposed to go, or...where he even was. He’d been trying to walk in a straight line, but the way behind him looked unfamiliar, as if the trees and plants had decided to move around while he wasn’t looking. Well, it appeared that wandering aimlessly was his only option now. Delightful.

Maybe he should do something as he walked along to help pass the time. Not that he didn’t mind walking around in nature, this place was just...he pulled out his rekara, twirling it between his fingers for a moment before putting it to his lips and blowing, tapping his fingers on the slender instrument’s holes to play a stupid little tune. It covered up the faint screaming sound quite nicely, and it eventually attracted a little bird, which fluttered down on a nearby branch. It was a very normal-looking one, with plain brown feathers and cute lil’ eyes.

When it opened its mouth to chirp at him, though, another scream rang out through the forest, so loud it sounded like it was coming from right next to Castys. Startled, he jumped a bit, stumbling back and tripping over a tree root or something, falling right on his ass. Frantically, he looked around for the source of the scream, but there was no one around him, as far as he could tell. “Anyone screaming out there?!” he called as he stood up, but he was met with silence. Well, not silence silence but just...nothing un-ambient. Maybe the trees were screaming. It could be a tree thing. 

The bird was still sitting there staring at him, and oh my fuck it’s the bird isn’t it-again, the bird opened its beak, and again, a horrible scream echoed around him. Well wasn’t that nice. A bird that screamed like a person. Castys slowly backed away, hoping the little thing’s only weird quality was the noise it made. Once he felt like he’d gotten far enough away, he turned and ran, and he was only running to cover more ground quickly, not because he was scared, no, a little unsettled, maybe, but not scared. 

He stopped to catch his breath after a few minutes, and as he stood there panting, he realized the forest around him had grown even more...strange. The trees actively waved in the air now, though there was no wind, and many of their branches hung limp, like they were made of cloth or something and not solid wood. Their bark still glistened and crawled, swirling into strange, mesmerizing patterns. The leaves of all the plants were different now, too, having taken on a sickly pink color, almost like...light-colored skin. Tasty.

Okay, yeah, something was obviously very wrong and cursed here, but he still had no clue what the fuck to do about it. He’s been hoping he could find...he didn’t know, something that looked like the source of it, like a very giant tree with a hole in it or perhaps a big magic crystal or an evil bear. But all around him were just normal sized haunted trees and no crystals and weird greenish mold and all the plants with their gross fleshy leaves-wait that mold or whatever was new. He crouched down and pulled out his knife so he could poke at it.

Upon closer inspection, it was like...little green pustules clustered together on the surface of the shifting tree bark. He used the tip of his knife to prod one of them, but it burst far more easily than he had been expecting, splattering greenish goop all over his hand, and it burned. Crying out, he dropped his knife and looked frantically around for water or something he could use to get this awful stuff off because dying wouldn’t make it go away so until he got rid of it somehow he was just stuck feeling it burn away his fucking flesh but there wasn’t anything here besides plants and more plants so it looks like that was all he was going to get-

With shaking hands, he grabbed a nearby leaf, shuddering at the fleshlike texture, the warmth, and wiped it desperately over his wounds, trying to scrape away the acidic sludge. It sort of worked, getting the larger clumps off, but he could still feel it eating his damn flesh, if only he had-wait he was a fucking idiot-he pulled out the waterskin Citlali had lent him, sloppily splashing water over his hand, gasping in relief as the pain lessened slightly. Obviously nothing was going to heal the wounds besides dying, but now he could actually do that without the acid continuing to burn him. He reached down into his shirt, feeling for the pouch containing his death rock, but...no, that’s right, he didn’t have it, he’d have to slit his throat like old times. Sighing, he wiped the acid goop off of his knife before turning it on himself.

Castys woke up very pleased to find that his hand no longer had holes in it, but when he saw the leaves he had wiped it on, his stomach twisted. The acid had burned right through them, and the holes were rimmed with red, dripping...it was blood, blood leaking from those fleshlike leaves. Quickly, Castys wiped off his knife and sheathed it, getting to his feet, ready to run the fuck away from those gross acid pustules. But...maybe it was a good sign that things were getting weirder, maybe he was getting closer to whatever the hell the source of all this was. So maybe he should…follow that stuff. It was the only sort of idea on where to go he had gotten this whole time, so it really was his only option, huh? He’d just have to be careful not to touch it. 

The streaks of green on the swirling tree trunks, which had darkened to a shiny black at some point, led him, allegedly, deeper into the forest. Wait, how was the green stuff staying in one spot while the trunk beneath it was shifting? That didn’t make any sense, not like anything did here, but still…physics. He studied the nearest tree for a moment, watching its surface move as the clump of acid bubble things stayed still. Though...he could see something between the cracks in the crawling trunk, something long and off-white, like...yup. Trees with bones. Lovely. Shaking his head, Castys resumed walking, deciding to just not question anything ever again. 

Things certainly got stranger as he continued. There was a pond where his reflection didn’t have a face, dragonflies with wings that looked like overgrown fingernails, and a herd of deer with skin and muscle so clear that all he could see were their organs and bones okay but what would clear deer meat taste like, so he felt like he was probably going the right way. When he heard a strange thumping sound, like something large walking around, he cautiously moved towards the source of it, poking his head out from behind a tree to see what it was. 

It was the ugliest, most disgusting horrible abomination creature thing he had ever seen. It’s main body was the same light fleshy color as the leaves, dotted with clumps of acid pustules, with a mishmash of vaguely humanoid limbs with all sorts of skin tones jutting out of its misshapen body every which way. And it had so many eyes all over, some frantically darting around, some focused horrifyingly on him. But the worst part were all the flowers sprouting it from it, not because they were flowers, but because these flowers had little white teeth in their centers, probably serving as the mouths for this thing since he didn’t see one anywhere else on it. Honestly, he wouldn’t mind cutting this thing to bits in the slightest, it was freaky. He stepped out and drew his sword, watching the monster warily as it shambled towards him. If this thing wasn’t the source of the curse, he didn’t know what would be.

Once it was within range, Castys slashed at it, wincing as a high pitched shriek rang out from one of the flower-mouths. He danced back as it swung at him with two of its arms, their hands reaching out to grab him. This kept on for a bit, him slashing at the monster and dodging its blows, though he’d occasionally make the mistake of slicing a clump of acid pustules, spraying himself with the corrosive substance. When he stopped for a moment to catch his breath, he noticed something...unfortunate. All the gashes he’d cut in the monster were slowly closing, healing that thing up like his attacks hadn’t even happened. He, on the other hand, was covered in acid burns and not sure how much longer he’d actually be faster than this thing. His healing was useless in a fight, since dying left him completely defenseless for a good minute or so.

He had to figure something else out some other-shit, he couldn’t stand still for very long, this monster just wouldn’t quit attacking him. He might have been safe in a tree, but all the ones in the area were pretty much completely covered in that acid stuff, so that was out of the question. Seeing an opening, he lunged, trying to stab one of those fucked up mouths, and he couldn’t help but feel a spark of relief as his blade sank in, knocking out some of its teeth. But his elation turned to fear as he felt something grab his ankle the same moment the mouth clamped shut around his sword. He tried his best to keep his grip on his sword as it yanked him up, but it slipped through his fingers, leaving him defenseless as the monster slammed him down onto the ground, his whole body lighting up in pain. 

Over and over, it smashed his body against the ground with inhuman strength. All Castys could do was scream as he felt his bones break, their sharp edges piercing him from the inside. To finish, it threw him against one of the trees, the impact of his body bursting a myriad of acid pustules open, drenching him in the stuff. Castys fell to the ground in a heap, sucking in pained breaths beneath his shattered ribs, and all he could do was helplessly watch through his one good eye, the other reduced to goop by the acid, as the monster raised a foot above him. His mind was screaming at him to go, to run, but he could hardly move, he should just let himself die so he could heal, but he didn’t want to, he didn’t want to just lie still and let this thing step on him, slowly building up the pressure on his already ruined ribcage, forcing ragged screams out of his acid-burned throat, he was going to be crushed but he didn’t want to be, g-get off please it hurts so much why do I have to do this it’s not fair I didn’t even do anything wrong this time please-

Castys came back to pain, sparking, burning agony soaking deep into his flesh. He was still covered in acid, and even with his bones intact now he could barely bring himself to move. But he had to, he had to get up, he had to kill this thing, had to get out of this awful place himself, because there was no other way out, because no one was going to come save him, not now, not ever. Just as he was psyching himself up to try and stand, the monster’s hands grabbed him all over, dragging him off the ground. He tried to squirm out of its grasp, and while it had too many damn hands and he had too many damn acid burns for this to actually be effective, he struggled anyway. As it lowered him towards one of its flower mouths, he tried to at least scream expletives at it, but of course he’d still had acid in his throat when he died so he couldn’t even relish the simple joy of yelling “fuck”.

What would happen to him if this gross monster ate him whole, he didn’t want to find out, but it seemed like he was going to if he didn’t break free. Castys shuddered as the mouth opened wide, wider, impossibly wide, showing off an unnecessary amount of wicked sharp teeth, and oh fuck they were a lot closer to him than he’d thought because his damn left eye was a corroded mess again and all of a sudden there were teeth tearing through his flesh and he was falling, falling into that horrible mouth surrounded by bright purple petals, pointed teeth digging into him, but he felt something, he felt something, hard and rough, and maybe it was his sword, and he could still kill this thing, so he wrapped his burned hand around it, fingers screaming in protest, and pulled, and as much as it hurt, as much as his sword was stuck, he wasn’t going to lose here.

His sword finally broke free with a disgusting squelch, though it felt a lot lighter than he remembered, and just as he pulled it out, the monster collapsed to the ground. Castys somehow managed to worm his tattered body out of the creature’s mouth, and once he was free, he held up his sword so he could stab himself with it, but discovered the object he was holding was very much not his sword. It was a strange wooden carving of a twisted tree, like ones surrounding him, a small bone fitted so snugly inside that it was almost as if the wood had grown around it. Was this...the source of everything? It was the most curse-causing looking thing he’d seen so far, and given that it seemed to be the core of that monster...oh, it was starting to grow flesh. Oh absolutely not.

Castys looked around frantically for his sword, his dagger, anything to break this talisman thing with. The first thing that caught his eye within reach was an unfamiliar axe, but he lunged for it, wishing he had time to kill himself and reset his body’s condition, but there was no telling how much this thing would grow while he was out. If he wanted a chance at ending this for good, he had to do it now. He rasped in pain as he dragged himself upright, grabbing the axe with blood-slicked fingers before he set the cursed object down and swung, crying out brokenly in pain and frustration. After a few clumsy whacks, the talisman broke in two, and the flesh bubbling out of it ceased moving. Was...was it over? It had to be. It had to be. It had to-

Head spinning, Castys fell sideways, the vision in his functional eye starting to blur. He knew he needed...to die...but he just...didn’t have...the...strength…

It was warm...comfortable...but it hurt, and...everything was...itchy. But still, so warm, and that was pleasant, and he found himself leaning into it. It was almost like...

Castys jolted awake, his eye snapping open. He was inside some building, the wooden ceiling above him lit by rippling firelight, in what felt like a bed, his whole body throbbing fiercely, and there was...a hand on his forehead. A hand attached to the village chief, Citlali, who was looking at him with concern. Her face broke into a relieved smile when she saw he was conscious, despite him flinching away from her touch. “So, our hero is finally awake.”

“I-” Castys tried to speak, but his throat was still severely fucked up, in fact, his whole body was. He hadn’t fucking died since he’d passed out, and these idiots didn’t know how his immortality worked, so they’d actually bandaged him up. The feeling of them was totally foreign, if not a little nostalgic. God, he must have looked fucking awful when they found him. He hoped it would make them think twice about kidnapping people to do their dirty work in the future. 

“Don’t try to speak; your throat is quite badly damaged. Do you want something to write on?” Castys nodded, and she fetched him a wooden tablet and a stick of charcoal. He considered writing something on the angrier side, but seeing as he still didn’t have his pouch back, and that she had tried to help him...he should probably play nice. He was too tired for any more fighting, anyway.

“If you’d just kill me so I can heal that would be great.” Pausing, he decided he should probably explain that a bit better. “Every time I die I come back to life fully healed. And the most convenient way for me to die is to touch my rock, which I believe I’ve earned back. Unless the forest is still wonky.”

“No, you did break the curse, and I want to thank you for that, because obviously it wasn’t easy. I-” she cut herself off. “First things first, let’s get you healed for good.” She furrowed her brow. “Will healing with these bandages on...mess it up somehow? Some of them might be a little...stuck to your wounds. Should I take them off of you first?” Castys considered it for a moment. He’d never tried to heal with bandages on, but if things went wrong...it might be more painful to have to cut them out of his flesh or whatever. He nodded, holding out an arm.

Citlali was gentle as she unwound the bandages with practiced skill, but that didn’t mean that it didn’t hurt like hell. It felt like she was ripping his damn skin off, and every time his idiot body tried to scream in pain, it tore up his throat even further, making the whole affair even more damnably unpleasant. He could hardly stand to look at the wounds underneath, all pink and red and oozing what he assumed was pus. The worst part, however, was when she removed the bandage from around the remains of his left eye and it pulled a little string of bloody flesh off with it. He screamed at that, really screamed, and he realized he was crying, and he didn’t understand how mortals did this all the time. Citlali didn’t so much as flinch at the gore, the smell, or his pain, and he almost felt embarrassed about how poorly he was handling this.

When she was done, she retrieved his pouch from a nearby table, giving it to him wordlessly. With shaking hands, Castys managed to pull it open and stick a finger inside, sighing in relief as the familiar blackness took him. When he woke up, he was happy to find that there wasn’t any more acid on him, so he was actually fully healed this time. “Thanks,” he muttered, flexing his hands.

“Thank you, you really saved us. I...I know you were forced to, and I know that I shouldn’t have done it that way, but I felt like we didn’t have any other option, and-”

“It’s fine,” Castys sighed, waving a hand dismissively. “That shit was pretty fucked up so I’m not really surprised all the mortals you sent in died. And it’s not like I’m known for my benevolence.” He put the pouch around his neck, where it thumped against his bare chest. “So, did my clothes-”

Citlali shook her head. “They were full of holes and covered in acid, so we asked around and got you a spare set.” She handed him a folded shirt that was similar in style to the pants he’d been wearing when he woke up, and he pulled it on. She handed him the rest of his belongings before picking up the pieces of the wooden carving that he’d destroyed. “Where...where did you find this?” 

“Inside the freaky monster with all the limbs and shit.”

“The what.”

“Was its giant corpse not near where you found me?”

“There wasn’t anything out of the ordinary there besides this and some of the weapons and equipment from our lost expedition parties.” She put it down, standing and crossing her arms. “We all felt the shift in the forest when the curse was lifted, and when we went out to investigate, everything seemed just like it had before all of this started. We found you collapsed in a clearing not too far from here.”

“Not too-I feel like I wandered around for hours! Stupid cursed forest.”

Citlali huffed. “Regardless, we found the talisman next to you, but no monster. But if this was what caused everything…” She picked up one of the pieces, gripping it tightly. “I think I understand what happened.”

“That’s great for you, don’t let it happen again.” Castys stood, shouldering his pack. “I...I can leave now, right?”

She looked up abruptly. “Oh, uh, yes, though you’re welcome to stay as long as you like, and we were thinking of holding a feast once we-” she stopped, clearing her throat. “We’d like to make it up to you in any way you can, but I understand if you’d like to leave. I’ll walk you out.”

Part of Castys wanted to stay and get a bunch of free food out of these people, or at least actual compensation for the ordeal he just went through, but he didn’t know if he could stand to be surrounded by these woods for much longer, despite the fact that they were allegedly no longer cursed. He couldn’t fight the nervous feeling in his stomach as walked away, his steps quickening once he and Citlali parted ways. He didn’t really relax until he had left the forest far behind him. 

Once he was safe, Castys opened his pouch and reached inside, worming his finger into the secret side pocket that was separated from the rock. He gently pulled out the piece of paper, unfolding it and sighing in relief upon seeing the drawing on it still intact. Not that he’d expected anything to happen to it, but…The memory of the first day of his life, at least that he was aware of, was far more precious than anything else.

Because if he lost it, if he lost that spark of happiness, that piece of who he was that day, he felt like he would collapse under the weight of every awful thing he’d endured ever since.

Castys Cult: @as-a-matter-of-whump​ @blackrosesandwhump​ @fanmanga1357-blog​​ @thehopelessopus​ @just-a-whumping-racoon-with-wifi​ @hearse-song​ @muddy-swamp-bitch @whumpasaurus101 @yet-another-heathen​​ @galaxywhump​ @starnight-whump​ @his-unspoken-words​ @misspelledwitch

[kdramafeminist]

Performative Badassery & Women in Kdramas

When I said I wrote an essay, I meant essay. This is a long one! Grab a snack and venture below the read more. I’ll see you at the end!

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You know the feeling. The drama begins. Our female main lead walks onto screen. She’s a successful businesswoman, a hotshot detective, clever lawyer, smartass retail worker, etc, etc. She stares down a random man to prove she’s the powerful one here. Or kicks some ass. Or rattles off a bunch of demands to her workers. Or talks fast to show off her intelligence.

Then she meets the male lead. There’re fireworks. Slowly we find our female lead has a softer side. Good to know. 3-dimensional and complex characters are important. It’s nice to see women on-screen who are both capable and emotional. Kick ass and feminine. 

But slowly... something starts to go wrong. She seems to be crying more than showing literally any other kind of emotion. And is it just me or is she getting saved and manhandled and flustered quite a lot for a woman who we were told was so well put together? Sure, the circumstances are extreme. But they’re extreme for the male lead too and he seems to be managing just fine for some reason. Also, if both of them are ordinary people with no on-screen fighting experience, how come he’s so great at throwing fists out of nowhere and she’s busy keeping hidden or needing rescuing? Exactly how many times can one person just faint like that without anyone checking to see if she has a medical condition?

By the drama’s end our lead has gone through trials and tribulations. She’s fallen in love too, I’m happy for her. But... now that the story’s ending and she’s getting in one last chance to show us she’s a “badass”, why am I left feeling hollow? She’s showing us how tough she is but... we ALL spent this whole drama watching her have absolutely no agency or such a little amount that she might as well have been trying to put out a fire with a water-pistol. It’s almost like her previous badassery (in whatever form it may have been - I don’t mean badass only in terms of being able to throw a good punch) was just a façade. A way to hook in female viewers like me who want to see something more than a wilting wallflower or one-trick Cinderella. But the tiniest knock and the cardboard house collapses.

And no matter how many times we get throwaway lines about her being “the smartest/toughest/scariest/most capable one here” it doesn’t ring true compared to the actual character we’re watching.

Rom-coms, melos and sagueks especially (but many more genres besides), have a real problem when it comes to performative badassery in their female characters. The writers give us a female lead they claim is hyper competent, but the reality is totally different. Any plot that features romance, almost always features this. Honestly the way the start of the relationship in dramas actively MURDERS the female character’s agency could be its own essay so I won’t go deep, just know the two are 100% linked.

The “Faux Action Girl” Problem 

A Faux Action Girl happens when a writer wants the popularity that comes with having a cool action girl character, or they want the praise that comes with writing a lead that breaks gender norms, or they want to be lauded for writing a FL whose more capable & progressive than the female kdrama lead we’d imagine, but they don’t end up actually giving us her. Instead we get the fake or faux version. The reasons are usually a combination of:

Relying on outdated tropes. Wrist grabs, damsels in distress, a girl fainting so she misses some vital plot related moment to increase runtime etc...

Sexist worldviews. As a by-product of being Korean which is still a heavily sexist country because of the holdover of Confucianism mixed in with the Christianity westerners brought over that leads many writers to (often without even realising) inserting moments that inadvertently reduce their female leads because they think that’s what correct or natural for the female character based on their opinion of women in general. Even if it doesn’t actually fit the type of character they’ve set out to create.

Executive meddling. Producers who think their demographic wouldn’t be able to handle a real badass but also know their female viewers want more complexity and agency in their FLs these days and so give us the paper-version instead of the 3D model.

This character’s more “badass” traits are nearly always just an Informed Ability (the writers tell us via other characters what she can do but never actually show us on-screen these same things) or we only ever see her utilise them once/twice at the beginning and maybe if we’re lucky once at the end, but never again. 

It really hurts.

The “Badass Decay/Chickification” Problem

Sometimes she really is a legitimate action girl though. She’ll be a cop whose good at her job or an ordinary citizen whose well-versed in taekwondo. She has actual moments on-screen to prove herself. 

Well. She has moments in episodes 1 and 2. Then she almost always goes through Badass Decay/Chickification. Which means that writers (& producers) believe that if we don’t see her having a softer side, she’ll become unrealistic or unlikeable. 

They fix her. So she becomes more vulnerable. As the only girl on the team (usually), she becomes the one who ends up injured more often or needs rescuing most. Her life begins to revolve entirely around her romance and nothing else. (Meanwhile the male leads gets to have the romance and keep his side-quest - have you noticed that? If the FL is really lucky she gets to keep one side-quest too, maybe a dream job or solving some family mystery. Never more though.. only men get to be complicated here). Once she was competent... now it feels like she legitimately had a personality transplant. 

Is this even the same person we began with?

The “Worf Effect” Problem 

Worf Effect is when the danger/power level of a villain is shown to the audience by making him successfully attack/hurt/ruin the plans of someone that the audience knows is skilled. This isn’t a bad thing alone and writers use it all the time. We need to acknowledge the villain as a proper threat and this is a useful way to do it!

But in kdramas it’s something used almost always against the lead female character. The one we’ve seen is intelligent, or strong-willed or quick-witted. 

And because it’s always her, this character begins to look weak. If this writing trope is abused, her reputation as the "biggest, toughest" etc. begins to look like it never existed and we’re back to her having an informed ability. 

That this is something that happens to the female characters not only more often but almost exclusively is a sign of sexism. Plain and simple.

Competent, Real Badass Female Characters Aren’t Scary

 If you’re going to sell me a capable woman, give me her. 

Not someone who has one very unique, specialised skill but otherwise can do nothing else except for that one time when her one skill is useful. 

Or has built up her own empire, implying a certain level of smarts, business ability or networking skills, but then once she’s removed from it she becomes so utterly useless it begs the question how she built that empire in the first place. 

Or has a rep as the detective whose taken down the toughest guys off-screen, but whatever skills she used to do that seem to disappear the moment anything really challenging happens on-screen. 

I’m not saying she needs to win all the time. Of course she doesn’t, how boring is that? All I’m asking is that when she loses, it’s in keeping with the character I’m supposedly watching. A woman that can kick ass can still be outwitted. A clever woman can be physically beaten. A street-smart girl can be foiled by rules and regulations. A leader-type can be beat by someone whose more unconventional.

It’s not difficult to write someone like this. I know the writers can do it because every male lead is written this way. I’ve never once, whilst watching a badass male lead lose, get beaten and cry, thought “oh no, his badassery was fake all along!”

Because when he loses it makes sense. It’s in character. There’s a solid plot reason behind why it happens.

Meanwhile my ladies who are meant to be able to kick ass and take names somehow just got kidnapped out of nowhere?

Make it make sense!

Consistent Characterisation is Good Writing

I get wanting moments where one is injured and the other fusses over them. I love those moments! All I ask is more imagination taken to get us to that point. Make it in-character. If my taekwondo black belt is kidnapped, I want to see her really fight. I want the kidnapping to be shown as genuinely tough on the people trying to nab her. Imagine how much more satisfying it would be to see her fight off all these bad guys, yet still end up losing? How much more heart-breaking?

We’d be so much more invested in the mind games or politics the villain is playing if the female lead we’ve been told is good at that stuff is playing the game just as hard. When she loses it’ll hurt more.

Writers need to stop being afraid that her remaining capable in some way diminishes the masculinity, attractiveness, prowess or “hero” status of the male lead. Trust me. It doesn’t. Ever. 

It’s not a case of either/or. We don’t think less of the male lead because his partner is as capable as him in whatever way that may be. Instead, we think more of them both. Once a romance begins, the heightened worry both characters have for each other should only make both of them stronger in whatever area they’re skill lies in. Not just make the man a sudden defence wall and the woman a worrying mess. 

I’m sure everyone who reads this can immediately think of at least one drama with a FL who is a Performative Badass. I know I had about ten in mind as I wrote this. 

There are exceptions. Cases where the badass gets to stay a badass. Usually these cases happen in genres without romance because like I said above, those problems are linked. But I can think of a few romcoms/sageuks/melos where it happens too. 

But those are the minority.

Women in kdramas. Give them agency. Make their characterisation genuine, not just a bit-part for the sake of a cool trailer. Not just one moment someone can edit into a “badass multifemale” video edit - only for us to watch the drama from the clip and discover we’ve been sold a lie. 

How satisfied would we be?

Writers! Give us a story we enjoyed because of the excellent characterisation. A new female character we can add to our lists of faves. Women who proved themselves as consistently badass as their first scenes claimed. Women in kdramas who, no matter what problem they faced, don’t become echoes or paper-thin versions of who we were promised.

Actual, complex, layered, enjoyable, KICK-ASS AND BADASS female leads.

Wouldn’t that be a miracle.

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PS. This is an open notice that it’s OKAY to reblog with added commentary/thoughts/rambles of your own. I would *love* to see it if you have anything to add.

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(Disclaimer: This essay was written with a specific female character type in mind. I am not saying every FL needs to be a badass or hyper competent. Soft, shy, physically weak female characters exist and can be just as realistic and complex. There’s a few I can think of who I adore. Instead my essay is very specifically about characters who are *meant* to be badass from the start but then... don’t end up being. So, yeah, before anyone claims I’m some angry feminist who needs every FL to be some tough martial artist or something. Absolutely not! Diversity is amazing and interesting. All I ask is that when I am told I’ll be getting a badass in a drama I get her. Not have my heart broken by the fake wilting flower I find in her place. Ok. End disclaimer. ^^)

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Also I’m tagging a bunch of you because you reblogged my post saying you wanted this so here! TY for making it to the end ^^

@kdramaxoxo​ @islandsofchaos @storytellergirl @vernalagnia-blog @lostindramas @salaamdreamer​ @planb-is-in-effect​ 

[animeloverskylarmoon]

Hanataro Yamada x Reader- Oneshot (Bleach)

"It's that punk again how pathetic." your eyes raised at the people gathered before you. A few of the reapers were gathered around someone. As you got closer you could see who it was.

 "Of course." you thought with a sigh. You don't know why, but somehow the blue haired healer always managed to get himself into a pickle. 

"C-Come on guys w-were all on the same side." you could hear the tremor in his voice. 

"Alright the fun is over I need him." you spoke boredly. A few of them stepped away from the reaper, and when his eyes caught you they lit up.

"(Y-Y/N)-chan!" Hanataro ran to your side and you looked over at the other annoyed reapers. One of them smirked. 

"Heh, you're always helping him, I'm starting to think you have a crush on the little guy." your face turned red. 

"Like hell I do!!" you bellowed. You raised your sword threateningly. 

"If you keep spouting such trash I'll make you regret it!" you barked. He took a step back when he felt your reiatsu start to overflow. He turned without another word, his friends following behind him. You sheath your blade with a huff. 

"Idiots." you looked back at Hanataro who was smiling at you happily. "W-What!" you demanded. Your face was getting hot by the way he was staring at you. He blinked, waving his hands around. 

"N-Nothing. Y-You're just always helping me. Thank you (Y/N)-chan." you looked away walking. "Whatever." you grumbled. Hanataro followed you and you kept your gaze low. Hoping he couldn't read the way his smile had affected you. 

"W-Why do I even like him?" You couldn't understand it. You were a fighter, he was a healer. The both of you were total opposites yet..you always found yourself helping him.

Sometimes you would go out of your way to make sure he was okay, especially since he was an easy target for some of the other reapers who apparently had nothing better to do than pick on the adorable guy. "(Y/N)-chan?" you looked up quickly in a sort of panic. 

"What's wrong are you okay!?" you asked urgently. You just assumed maybe something was wrong. Hanataro looked at you for a few moments before smiling again. 

"I'm fine, I was just asking if you were okay but you didn't respond so I thought something was wrong. " He stepped forward, taking your hands.

"If something is wrong you can tell me. I know I'm not much of a help, but I'll do what I can. You're always there for me, it's the least I can do." His blue orbs looked so determined, so generally concerned. 

"That's why...that's why I'm in love with him.." Hanataro was right, he wasn't strong, yet what had drawn you to him wasn't his brute strength, no, it was that look. The one that would do anything to help his friend even if he knew he could get hurt in the process. He was brave.

Your eyes lowered, pulling your hand out of his. 

"I'm fine don't worry. " You hated the fact that you weren't as brave as he was. Yeah, you could hold your own in a fight, but internally you were a coward. You couldn't even tell the one guy you had been in love with for years that you liked him. You swallowed. "Thank you though." you muttered. Hanataro grinned. 

"Of course!" He chirped.

~~

"Rukia-san, are you sure this is all the paperwork. " You tried to stifle a laugh as Hanataro tried to balance the large pile of documents in his arms. She nodded with a smile of her own. 

"Yes, although you don't have to try and carry them in one trip, you could always come back for the rest. " he shook his head frantically. 

"T-That's not necessary!" You knew why he didn't want to make two trips. He was probably scared he would get jumped again. You stepped forward, taking the top half of the documents. He titled his head. 

"(Y/N)-chan?" you raised your head with a light blush on your face. 

"It would be a hassle if you hurt yourself just carrying papers." You didn't say anything after that, you just started walking and Hanataro stumbled trying to catch up with you. 

"W-Wait up!!" He fell in step, the both of you walking side by side. Rukia watched the scene with a knowing look.

Hanataro's eyes wandered over you. He'd known you since well, forever. Back in the academy no one really ever paid much mind to him, yet you always seemed to be looking his way. You helped him constantly and he always wondered why. 

You never demanded anything in return. Nor did you pick on him like the others. In the back of his mind he thought, he hoped maybe you felt the same way he did. It was foolish. You were a strong beautiful fighter. And he was just well..Hanataro. There wasn't anything grand, so why, why did you even give him the time of day.

Hanataro had been so caught up in his own thoughts he didn't see you come to a complete stop. You were looking ahead with hardened eyes. When he noticed he stopped too. His eyes landed on the reapers who had been pestering him for the past week. The leader of the group stepped forward with a cocky grin. 

"What do we have here, two lover birds taking a stroll." you growled at him. 

"Beat it idiots, we're not interested. " His grin got wider. "We? So I was right. You are with the pathetic excuse for a reaper." he taunted. You gritted your teeth. 

"Shut up!!" you demanded.

"Oh! It's fine the both of you make a great couple." You exploded.

"SHUT UP THERE'S NO WAY I'D LIKE A WEAKLING LIKE HIM MUCH LESS DATE HIM!!"

Hanataro stood there hoping what he had just heard was all in his head. When he saw the wide smiles of the other reapers faces he knew it was true. That's what you thought of him. You probably felt sorry for him. No wonder you were always helping. 

"Heh, who was I kidding..of course that's what she thinks of me.." He should have expected it. There was no way someone like you would go for someone like him.

As soon as the words left your mouth you regretted it. Your eyes glanced back at Hanataro. Your heart clenched at the hurt look in his eyes. 

"Hanataro.." the other reapers looked satisfied at Hanataro's broken stare. 

"Of course not, glad you realize how useless he really is." They didn't say much else, walking off with laughs. You watched as they slowly faded from your view.

"Hanataro I-"

"It's fine." he cut you off. He gave you a smile, walking off ahead. You followed, unsure of what you could say. Every step you took felt like a weight on your heart. 

"You don't have to explain. I know you don't have those feelings for me. You are right though I am a weakling. " he laughed bitterly. "You don't have to keep looking out for me you know. It's probably a bother." Your hands gripped the papers tighter. 

"T-That's not why I.." you stopped yourself from saying anymore. Hanataro didn't look back at you. Otherwise he probably would have noticed the conflict in your eyes. 

"Either way, it's not necessary. I can take care of myself." you were shocked at how cold the words he spoke came out. The both of you continued on your way, neither saying a word to each other after that.

The weeks following that incident felt like hell. You weren't sure if Hanataro was avoiding you. Although it was pretty obvious he was. Whenever there was paperwork to collect someone else came to get them. Not once did Hanataro visit your barracks. You tried going to him and maybe apologizing for the harsh words you said. 

Every time you entered, as soon as he saw you he would make any excuse to leave. At first you understood, but after a while it got to you. You had blown it with him. There was no way he would talk to you again. All because you were too scared to admit your feelings.

"I ruined everything.."

~~~~~

You sat outside your captain's squad, tears falling to your lap. You didn't notice Rukia standing behind you watching the scene. She stepped out of the room finally making her presence known and you wiped at your eyes hurriedly. 

"R-Rukia-san." you said a bit startled. You didn't want her to see you like this, weak and broken.

She took a seat at your side. 

"Are you alright, you've been like this for a while. Do you want me to call Hanataro. I'm sure he can-"

"NO!" you yelled. Her eyes widened and you looked down. "N-No it's fine I'm okay." Rukia's eyes narrowed. 

"I have a feeling that has something to do with him (Y/N)-chan. He hasn't been by for a while now. He usually stops by at least once a week to say hello." you didn't answer, but she knew that was the case. 

From the looks of it, you weren't going to confront the problem. And Hanataro wasn't going to either. Rukia stood up, giving you a pat on the shoulder. She walked off without a word and you were thankful. Rukia stepped into the office with a new mission.

"Since the both of them are going to avoid the problem, I guess I'll just have to give you a little nudge."

~~~~

"Is there anything else taicho?" Jushiro shook his head. "I believe that's all." he said, shooting you a smile as he gathered the remainder of documents on his desk. You walked over with a sigh of relief as you placed what you had completed on his desk. 

"You've been working really hard. Would you like some tea." you giggled with a nod. Jushiro really acted like an old man sometimes. "Sure taicho." you accepted. He looked excited as he stood to get a kettle going.

Just as he walked off you heard frantic steps coming from outside. Your eyebrow raised when you saw the door fly open. Rukia rushed in with a desperate look on her face. 

"(Y/N)!!" she sounded scared. "I-It's Hanataro.." You could see the present tears in her eyes. Her voice broke and your eyes shook, heart thumping in fear.

"W-What's wrong!!" She was holding unto your shoulders panting. You could see the sweat gathered on her forehead. 

"There was a hollow attack at the fourth squad barracks. I-I was there talking to Hanataro when it happened. T-They came out of nowhere! There were so many. H-He pushed me out of the way, b-but h-he...he got badly injured. Unohana-taicho says he still hasn't woken up yet. " your body was trembling as you took in the information. 

"N-No.." you staggered for a moment, bolting out the door. Rukia watched as you went dashing through the barracks. When you were gone she wiped the tear from the corner of her eyes with a grin.

"Success!" 

Jushiro walked back in with a kettle in his hand. "Hmm, where did (Y/N)-chan go?" Rukia brushed it off. 

"She had something to take care of. Can I have some tea?" Jushiro nodded with a smile. 

"Of course. "

~~~

You pushed your body to go as fast as you could. When you finally got to the fourth squad barracks there was a visible hole in the wall of the building at the med area where patients usually resided. You panicked, rushing up the stairs. You were sprinting down the corridors, trying to get to your destination. You skidded to a stop when you got there. 

You almost ripped the door off its hinges trying to get in. When you entered the first thing you saw was Hanataro standing with a few scratches on his face. "Hanataro!!" he turned and you dove into his arms. He stumbled back, surprised at the way your hands wrapped around his neck.

"(Y-Y/N)??" you clenched him tightly. 

"I'm sorry!" you cried. 

"I-I'm so sorry for what I said!! It was so mean. I-I only said it because I didn't want to admit the truth. " Hanataro couldn't do much but listen as you rambled on. "I-I've loved you for so long and I was too scared to say anything so I-I lied when those reapers asked me. I-I was embarrassed. " Hanataro's body went rigid.

"D-Did she just say that she.." He was dreaming, he had to be. You just kept on going.

"B-But when Rukia said you were attacked by that hollow all I could think about is never getting the chance to tell you, a-all because I was a coward." you wept. Hanataro could feel you shaking against him. 

"I love you Hanataro, I love you, I love you!" Hanataro's heart beat increased rapidly at your confession. He pulled back with wide eyes. "You..love me.." you nodded with a smile.

"I love you so much Hanataro!" you confessed. Hanataro's eyes softened. This is what he'd wanted for so long. "I love you too (Y/N)-chan." your eyes started to well up with tears again. You grabbed either side of his cheeks, pressing your lips to his own. 

Hanataro's eyes grew wide at the action. He just stood there frozen as you kept your lips pressed to his. When you pulled away his cheeks were cherry red. You didn't seem to really process what you'd done. When you did you pulled away with a heavy blush. 

"Ah! G-Gomen!!" you apologized. You lifted your hand, blocking your lips with the back of your palm. Hanataro looked down at his feet, face still flushed.

"I-It's okay.." he mumbled. The both of you just stood there awkwardly for a while. Something finally hit you though. 

"W-Wait, Rukia said you were unconscious, how did you recover so quickly from the hollow attack?"

"Hollow attack? I wasn't attacked by a hollow." you gave him a blank look. 

"E-Eh?"

"Kurotsuchi-taicho brought a new invention of his, he said it would help charge some of the machines we have here. I guess I tried to charge too many at once because it exploded. " Your eyes moved over to the piece of metal that was smoking on the ground. "Is that so.." He nodded. "Hai!" you smiled, looking at the cute expression on his face. 

"You should be more careful, it could have been far worse. " He whined. "(Y/N)-chan don't lecture me." you shook your head at his pout. 

"You're my responsibility now so how can I not." you said folding your arms. He looked at you for a few seconds, a smile slowly making its way on his face. He bowed. "Then please take care of me from now on!" you flushed. 

"H-Hey no need to bow." you advised rubbing the back of your head bashfully. He stood up straight with a boyish grin. An arrow struck you right in the heart at his expression.

"Damn it..he's definitely going to be the death of me."

[elephantinparis]

A Sky beyond a Storm Review

If I could give this book -∞ rating I would. This review won’t be spoiler free, so if you haven’t read the book don’t read further. Now that that’s out of the way let’s get into it.

First of all, I want to start by saying how sad and angry I am to be writing this because this series had become one of my favorites and it completely disappointed me in the end. I’m not sure disappointment is even a proper word for what I’m feeling at this point. I also want to mention that yes, I am a huge fan of Nightbringer, but I wasn’t expecting a hea for him. What I was expecting was an arc true to his character from previous 3 books. Instead, what I got was a complete character assassination. It all started from the very first chapter–Nightbringer kills a small child, but at that point I was still trying to defend the book and genuinely thought: yes, it fits his character since he despises scholars. So even though I didn’t like it I understood. But then the complete character destruction started. First, we had a moment when he saw a happy family and went: yeah, I’ll kill the mother and the kids out of nowhere because they remind me of my family and if I can’t be happy no one can. Now, let me explain why this is ooc behavior: The Nightbringer as we knew him always had a beef with scholars only. The family he randomly kills are not scholars. Another thing: why would he put someone through the same agonizing pain when he is always specific about the deaths having meaning to him and that he doesn’t kill in vain(scholar killings are not in vain for him) other people, however, don’t fall into that category. Another ooc behavior moment was when he put one of his jinn in chains (yes only for a second and yes the jinn tried to use her influence on him), but the Nightbringer I know would never put his people through that after them spending an actual millennia in a prison. He spent so long trying to get them out, he would never put them in chains again. Then the cherry on the top of the cake was that all throughout the book the author tried to drive it home how much Nightbringer wanted Laia dead and how much he wanted, and I quote: “Open her up.” Another inconsistency since in Reaper he saved her more than once and completely let her go (because we know he loves her). Yes, he wanted to know what magic she possessed since the moment in Torch, but he had multiple opportunities to kill her and he never did. But in this book, he more than once physically assaults her when she’s in no position to truly hurt him and from his previous behavior that’s ooc actions. And you can come and say: but wait a minute Laia is a real threat now and that’s why he wants to kill her after he “opens her up” and I’ll point you to the chapter where he finally learns of his wife’s betrayal and understands what magic Laia possesses. And what does he do? He walks away. The man who spent the entire book hunting her down has her vulnerable, alone, he finally figured out the mystery of her powers and I am to believe from all his previous actions that he’ll kill her, but he DOESN’T. Because, of course, it’s not in the nature of his character to kill someone he loves even if they’re trying to stop him. So, which is it Sabaa? The inconsistencies are jarring. It just drives it home how his actions in this book were character assassination. The final nail in Nightbringer’s metaphorical coffin (because of course in the end he gets no funeral, no established peace, nothing. Unlike Keris…but I’ll get back to that later) is the fact that his evil villain plan is to literally end the world…I’m sorry WHAT?! So, in the span of this book he went from wanting scholars dead, then wanting all humans dead and then wanting the whole world to end which would result in his people dying, too. What in the actual hell is this?? So many possibilities could’ve been taken with this character, even if the author didn’t want to give him a redemption arc, he could have been a much better villain with a good goal. Instead we get this. Please someone try to explain WHY would he do this when he just freed his people? They would suffer just as much from his plan, so it makes no sense at all. His entire character was about protecting the jinn, giving them a safe space once he freed them. Another thing I noticed is that in the previous 3 books Nightbringer was very much humanized, embers and torch focused on him feeling again, his growth once he fell in love with Laia and even in Reaper his actions were tied to her, but in this book it’s completely forgotten. He does monstrous things to other people who aren’t scholars which was never his goal before. He had a millennium to set his anger and hurt on others, but he focused on those he felt were responsible for his life being ruined – the scholars. And yes, he was wrong to try to take revenge on people who didn’t do anything, but the point remains the Nightbringer I knew would have never done anything to jeopardize the jinn’s safety. Even as a villain his story went in a very cruel direction. I never praised Leigh Bardugo’s depiction of her villain Darkling, but maybe I should’ve since she gave him the bare minimum and Nightbringer didn’t even get that. Funny that the author has said on more than one occasion he was her favorite character. I shudder to think what she would’ve done if she disliked him. 

Another character who was treated with cruelty all throughout the story is Helene. Now I’ve got to give credit where it’s due - Helene grew a lot throughout the series: she shed her prejudices, finally acknowledged she had been protecting the wrong people and that martials need to change, she also grew as an incredible leader and a warrior and when the people chose her to be their Empress I was so proud, but then…she made her vow. To never marry, to never have children (which is totally fine since it was even mentioned she didn’t want them earlier), to completely give herself to her duty to the empire. It rubbed me the wrong way immediately because a big part of her arc was love–love for Elias who rejected her, love for her family–who got slaughtered before her eyes, love for Avitas–who also was killed for no real reason other than to make her suffer even more. And what does this show? It shows to Helene that love isn’t her friend because it only brings her pain, she lets people in, loves them with every part of her soul and they end up dying. So, at this point we have a young woman who started the series thinking she wasn’t worthy of love end up thinking love itself wasn’t worth it. How messed up is that? Still as cruel as this arc was it was at least consistent or that’s what I thought. In her very last chapter, it’s heavily alluded she might have something with Musa. And if it was written as just two friends grieving their lost loves it wouldn’t have bothered me at all. But there were clear romantic undertones and then I was left thinking: what? I thought she chose only her duty. And though Avitas was barely a few weeks in the ground at that point I couldn’t even fault Helene for wanting to move on because I just wanted her to be happy again. But at the same time, I cannot ignore the inconsistencies. The cruelty she experienced was too much.

It’s ironic how two of my favorite characters got the short end of the stick.

I don’t really have much to say about Elias since he didn’t really have his own plot, he was just inserted into Laia’s. His ending was by no means earned and I know it’s hard to say that because he had gone through so much in the first 2 books. But ever since Torch he made a conscious choice to become the Soul Catcher. Sure, he only did it to save Laia’s brother, but he made a vow to serve and he completely disregarded his job after the fact. I think if the ghosts that got out in Reaper didn’t hurt anyone, he would have continued to ignore the duty he himself chose. Now in this book he could’ve had an interesting development since he didn’t remember his past life, but this was resolved in the very beginning when Cain somehow gave the memories back. Then in the very end for a quick resolve someone just took over his job and Mauth was okay with it. The person who took over was just brought back for plot convenience and it makes me so mad. He didn’t earn the freedom…

Then we have Laia. The problem I had with her character in general is the fact she disregarded her past with Nightbringer. She can be in love with Elias and acknowledge what she felt for Nightbringer. Alas, she only sees a monster, shows no compassion once she learns of his story and since she spent all the book trying to kill him and not just stop him the very end felt hollow when  she suddenly starts showing compassion to a suffering Nightbringer. Laia from Torch showed compassion and understanding in her own way toward Nightbringer and now it was just gone. She was still conflicted and in this she’s completely closed off. I don’t think her romance with Elias would’ve suffered if her very real past with Nightbringer was acknowledged properly.

I also want to talk about Rehmat (Nightbringer’s wife). We learn that she had a gift of seeing the future and once the war started and she lost their children she saw what Nightbringer would become. So, what does she do? Does she go to her husband and tell him what she saw, tries to change the future, show him that even when she’s gone, he can go on and be who he was always meant to be? Beloved. Hell no she goes to humans and uses blood magic to extract her essence and be put in the progeny of a random tribe. Then waits a millennium to kill her husband. What in the world is this?? The reason why she does this is never addressed. So, as a reader I must make assumptions that she never loved him. That she didn’t even try to change anything. She also could’ve told him of her plan so he could’ve found someone to awaken her sooner so they could once again be together. He was deeply hurt and alone without their people and she left him too. Tell me how you bring in this new force and you don’t even explain her actions? How is this good writing?

Now I want to talk about the death count and if the deaths had any meaning. Got to start by saying that only supporting characters were killed.  First, we have Darin. Killed by Nightbringer because he wanted Laia to kill him for his plan. See, the thing is Laia already wanted to kill him throughout the book, she got the weapon and she came there with the goal of killing him. Nightbringer didn’t need to “encourage” her by killing Darin. So, in my opinion the death was pointless and served no great purpose. It was a way to make the reader hate the villain, sympathize with the heroine and was done for shock value. Livia was another character to suffer a pointless death. She was the only person Helene had. There was no reason to do it same with Avitas. I guess for Avitas I could try to excuse it by saying it’s war and he did die on the battlefield. Keris had always been a great fighter and even Helene couldn’t take her on. But she already lost Livia and now this?? Too much. Too cruel. Livia’s ending could’ve also been written off as a war casualty, but she wasn’t actively participating in the war. Sure, she was the Empress Regent, but to me it’s just too much after her family. Both deaths only caused Helene pain and she didn’t gain anything profound from those losses. Lastly, I truly hated how the author tried to humanize Keris Veturia. And when I say tried, I really mean it because at least for me it didn’t work. The author suddenly had her saying she couldn’t kill Elias when time came even though she already had. She poisoned him and he died because of her. That woman first abandoned him, then tortured him throughout his time at Blackcliff and then in the end cost him his life. And Elias mourned her…She also had a lovely send off in the Waiting place where she found piece with her mother. So then if this villain deserved peace why didn’t the other one? At least Nightbringer had his reasons. We never knew hers.

In conclusion, I don’t understand how the story could’ve gone so wrong. As always everything you read is my personal thoughts and my humble opinion.

Tagging: @nightbringer @bookittothelibrary we suffered so much...I can’t.

[franzsiska]

iwaoi + ‘things you said through your teeth’

Tooru is a performer by nature, all playful touches and trilling melodies and beautiful smiles that make Hajime’s knees go weak, igniting in his chest something that shouldn’t even be there, goddamnit— Tooru is a performer, so he tells a hundreds of inconsequential little lies everyday. Things like how sweet of you to make this just for me! I’ll stow it away close to my heart and I’m sorry, I already have a date to the festival and yes, I promise I won’t practice till too late. They’re not usually directed at Hajime and when they are, they’re not really meant to deceive. 

Still, little white lies are Oikawa’s thing, not his. That’s the difference between them. Oikawa only lies to him when it doesn’t matter. Hajime only lies when it does. 

So, he has lied to Oikawa a grand total of four (4) times.

The first was when they were both seven years old, playing in the back garden of one of their houses—he can never quite recall which one, their childhood memories are meshed together a little too well for that—and Tooru’s favourite ball got stuck up in one of the high branches.

“I’ll get it,” Hajime had said the moment Tooru’s bottom lip had started to quiver. He looked back at Hajime with wide, almost liquid brown eyes.

“But Iwa-chan, it’s so high up! Aren’t you scared?”

“No, of course, I’m not, idiot,” Hajime had scoffed, all skinny arms and false bravado. A lie, of course. He was terrified of heights. But so was Tooru—even more so than Hajime—and his favourite ball (the same one they had pooled all their pocket money together to buy last summer) was stuck up there in a tree and Tooru’s face, wide-eyed and devastated, looked as if the whole world had just come crumbling down on him.

Suddenly, Hajime’s own fear didn’t matter all that much. 

He took a deep breath and looked back up at the tree. “Besides... it’s not even that far up.”

(It was, in fact, very far up, at least for their small, seven-year-old selves, and Hajime had only been able to get it down after five failed attempts, two scraped knees, and very nearly falling out of the tree altogether.)

* * *

The second time Hajime lies to him was when they’re in middle school.

“Iwa-chan, do you think I’m pretty?”

The question comes out of nowhere. They’re sprawled out on Mattsun’s couch, watching the same shitty sci-fi flick for the fourteenth time and there’s a piece of popcorn stuck in the mess of Oikawa’s hair, his eyes only halfway open from a whole week’s worth of accumulated tiredness, and with lashes brushing the top of his cheekbones with every blink and evening sunlight pooling in the dips of his collarbone, Hajime thinks he looks beautiful.

“I mean, I know I’m gorgeous and all, obviously but what do you—”

“No, I don’t,” Hajime rolls his eyes in an excuse to avert them from Oikawa. “You’re hideous.”

(Lie. Oikawa is more than just pretty but Hajime can’t say that because his heart is hammering, chest on fire with a feeling he can’t decipher because they’re both too young and Oikawa is his childhood best friend, goddamnit—) 

“Hideous!” Oikawa gasps.

“Ghastly.”

“That’s rude!”

“Mm, repugnant?”

“Now you’re just pulling words out of your ass, Hajime. What does that even mean?”

* * *

The third time he lies to him is right after the inter-high prelims semifinal. They’re on the bus on their way back home from Sendai city gymnasium and Hajime tries not to think about how this was their last high school volleyball game ever. Tries not to think about that last miracle set or his pathetic, failed attempt to score. Definitely tries not to think about the strangled cry Tooru let out as he crashed into the tables on the side of the court, or that last thud of the ball that ended everything.

He tries, but he’s failing so far.

(What use is a knight with a useless sword, after all? They have so many names for him, he thinks bitterly. A lifeline, a pillar of support, a steady rock. Hajime is none of those things. And even if he is… well, a rock is only useful so long as it doesn’t sink you down with it.)

Tooru’s been quiet the entire ride, sitting beside him with his eyes closed and head leaned back on the headrest. So, it startles Hajime a little when he speaks.

“You’re doing it again, Iwa-chan. Stop it.”

His voice sounds scratchy, deeper somehow, and Hajime blinks before discreetly clearing his own throat. “Doing what?”

“That thing you do where you put all the blame on your own shoulders because you don’t know where else to put it. Stop it.”

He’s silent for a moment, thinking how even after almost seventeen years spent together, Tooru can still give him whiplash with just his words. Then he looks away and quietly says, “I don’t do that.”

(Lie. One Tooru sees through immediately but still, at least he tried.)

“Sure,” Tooru snorts before he turns away from him slightly. “Wake me up when we’re home, yeah?”

Hajime takes a moment to regard him, all six feet of him somehow curled up in the seat, eyes closed and head resting sideways on the window. Then he sighs and leans back in his own seat. “Sure… “

* * *

The fourth time Hajime lies to him is the night after their high school graduation ceremony.

They’re on the rooftop of the school building, it’s raining—a fitting mockery of their situation, he thinks—and they’re not even allowed to be here this late but there’s just so much resting on their shoulders, on their chests, inside their throats. So much and absolutely nowhere to put it down.

“I’m leaving for Argentina in a week,” Tooru says, quiet under the rhythmic patter of rain against their shared umbrella, not looking at Hajime.

“I know.” And you’re taking my heart with you.

“I won’t be back for a long, long while, you know?” He murmurs, looking out over the grounds visible from the rooftop, before slowly turning and looking up at Hajime. “Iwa-chan… “

His eyes widen slightly when Hajime raises a palm and gently places it over his mouth. “Don’t,” he sighs, “Just… please don’t.”

Please don’t say you love me.

 Oikawa gently lowers Hajime’s hand from his mouth. “I love you.”

Damn you.

There’s a beat of silence between them, filled only by the steady rhythm of the rain. Hajime notices his shoes getting wet, despite the umbrella. When he looks up again, Tooru is staring at him, eyes wide and watery and so vulnerable that Hajime wants nothing but to engulf him in his arms.

Instead, he clenches his teeth and steels his heart. “Oikawa… “ he breathes, despite the thorns stuck in his throat.

Oikawa’s face crumbles in a matter of seconds, right in front of Hajime’s eyes. He swallows hard, “I… what?”

It’s only now that Hajime realizes that they’re both drenched, the umbrella having fallen away at some point—perhaps an odd thing to notice right then but it’s amazing, the lengths the human mind can go to when it wants to avoid something (like the absolutely devastated expression Tooru’s face) but it hardly matters at this point. 

He takes a small step forward, then another. There’s rainwater in his eyes and his chest feels so fucking hollow but he leans forward to rest his forehead on Oikawa’s, hands holding his face. “I’m so sorry. I can’t do this.”

(Not a lie.)

I can’t hold you down. You’re celestial, burning ith all the intensity of a massive supernova and you’re meant for things far greater than anything this small countryside of Miyagi has to offer. Than anything I have to offer. 

You’re meant for the stars, Tooru, the same ones you’ve spent your entire life in love with, and I can’t hold you down. I refuse to. Not now, not ever.

All of this, and the weight of the entire universe resting in the pit of Hajime’s stomach, but all that reaches Tooru is I’m sorry, I can’t do this. I can’t love you.

(So, yeah. Lie.)

He swallows hard. “I… oh. Okay. That’s okay, it’s fine.”

Iwaizumi squeezes his eyes shut, because goddamn it hurts, because even after what he just did, Tooru is still being kind to him. It’s fine, he’s saying, as if his throat isn’t closing up, as if he isn’t hugging his shaking shoulders and trying to disappear in on himself. As if that’s rain dampening his cheeks and not an onslaught of tears.

It feels like a hand plunging into Hajime’s chest and ripping his heart right out. 

Then he feels Oikawa’s hand on his cheek and his eyes slowly open of their own volition. “Hey, hey, Iwa-chan, I said it’s fine,” he says, voice barely above a whisper. For the very first time in his life, Iwaizumi wishes he couldn’t look at that beautiful face—wishes he was fucking blind, Jesus Christ—because Oikawa is looking back at him with such a heartbreaking smile on his face that it’s making it impossible to breathe. “It doesn’t… doesn’t m-matter. I’m sorry.”

His heart shatters into a million pieces.

[sukifans]

PET • RI • CHOR

[n] a pleasant smell that accompanies the first rain after a long period of warm, dry weather

ZUKO X OC SERIES

SUMMARY: a captured waterbender and the fire prince may sound like an unlikely pair, but kena never much cared about others’ expectations and zuko, well… he was just along for the ride

A/N: we have read more cuts, bitches. also iroh is the ultimate wingman lmao. enjoy this pt it is very soft and fun ~

⏎ MASTERLIST // PART I « PART II » PART III

Zuko found himself walking down the seemingly endless corridors of the Fire Nation palace. He caught sight of his reflection in a window pane and stopped to look. He quickly reached up to touch his face when he realized he no longer had his scar. The skin that was usually rough and dry and cracked was now as smooth as the rest of his cheek. His hair was longer, pulled half-up in a top knot that held the Fire Lord’s hairpiece. He moved his fingers away from his face to touch the golden flame but stopped when he heard a voice.

“Hey, over here!” the voice called. He turned and saw the familiar girl from the tea house standing at the other end of the corridor. She giggled before running off, rounding a corner.

“Wait!” he shouted, chasing after her. He was only barely keeping up, just catching glimpses of her long braid or her clothes whipping around a corner before she disappeared again. He stopped when he saw her standing still in front of a doorway, smiling. “Who are you?”

Her face immediately fell and her eyes filled with tears. Guilt squeezed his chest, making it hard to breathe. “You mean, you don’t remember me, Zuko?”

“I- I’m sorry. You’re so familiar, I just can’t place you-“ he stammered.

“You forgot me!” she roared, face contorting with anger now. He took a step back, frightened by her distorted features. “You killed me, and now you forgot me! How could you?”

“I d-didn’t kill anyone,” he whispered. The girl opened her mouth wider than should’ve been possible and let out an inhuman wail, running into the dark room beyond the doorway. Against his better judgement, he followed.

Zuko’s heart raced when he looked around and found himself in the Agni Kai room he’d been burned in. Three figures stood in the middle of the room with their backs to him, one on their knees between the other two. Cautiously, he approached. He felt sick to his stomach when he saw his father and Azula were the two standing figures. On her knees was the waterbending girl from the infirmary he’d known as a child. Ozai was holding her by her hair as silent tears rolled down her cheeks, forcing her to hold her head up.

“Let her go,” Zuko demanded. Ozai and Azula both laughed.

“Or what, Zuzu? You can’t fight both of us and protect the snow savage,” Azula purred. She crouched down and grabbed Kena’s face roughly, her sharp nails digging into her skin. Kena whimpered helplessly and Zuko felt like he’d been hollowed out. The poor girl’s whole body was trembling with fear.

“Zuko, help me. Please,” she whispered desperately. He tried to move to reach her but his feet were rooted to the spot. Ozai yanked her hair and Kena swallowed a yelp.

“Look, little girl. He’s not going to save you. In fact, he gave you to me.” He forced her head back up to make her look Zuko in the eye.

“I didn’t! Kena, please-“

“Beg, savage, and maybe he’ll help you,” Ozai snarled, throwing her onto her face at Zuko’s feet. No matter how hard he tried, he still couldn’t move. He felt like he might fall apart when he and Kena made eye contact just as she started sobbing openly and loudly.

“Zuko, please! Don’t hurt me! I’ll do anything, just please don’t hurt me again!”

“I- I would never-“ he started but was cut off by Kena’s desperate cries as she dropped her head again. “I’m trying but I can’t move.”

She tilted her head up and suddenly she was older — the girl from the tea shop again. With a rush he realized he could move again and immediately dove down to scoop her up. As soon as he touched her, she screamed like she’d been burned and scrambled away from him, looking terrified. Ozai laughed again and grabbed her by the throat, lifting her up off the ground so her feet barely skimmed the floor. She desperately clawed at his arm but Ozai was entirely unbothered. She was struggling to breathe, chest heaving while she choked and sputtered.

“You will learn respect, and suffering will be your teacher,” his father said and Zuko’s blood turned to ice in his veins.

Azula approached Kena with her hand engulfed in blue flame. The waterbender thrashed and fought but couldn’t get free, not before Azula brought her hand to her face-

“Kena!” Zuko sat bolt upright in his bed, drenched in sweat and his heart racing. His blanket was tangled and twisted around his legs and his pillow was somehow across the room. When he realized what he’d seen had just been a nightmare, he started trying to calm himself down with deep, uneven breaths, holding his head in his shaking hands.

Kena. She was here. She spoke with him. Hell, he had a date with her in less than twenty four hours. Sana had told him that she and her mother had escaped from the palace before being executed, but he had never been sure whether or not she was lying to spare his feelings. To see her here, alive and seemingly happy... he wasn’t sure if he’d be able to speak to her again without blowing his cover. She didn’t seem to recognize him, what with the scar and all the time that has passed. He didn’t know if he preferred that over her knowing it was him or not.

Sighing, Zuko slipped out of bed and started to dress himself. He needed to get out for a bit and take a walk, maybe pick a fight, to clear his head. He slung his swords in their sheath over his shoulder and tied the ribbon of his mask around his head before creeping out of the apartment, careful not to wake Iroh. He wandered down the empty streets, sticking to the shadows cast by the shoddy buildings of the Lower Ring in the moonlight and slipped into small alleyways to avoid running into any late-night stragglers.

His breath caught in his throat when he turned into an alley see someone else at the other end. There stood a woman in a flowing white dress with a large black bag across her body. Most peculiarly, she also wore a mask — a black base painted with white detail to depict a smiling koi face. She cocked her head curiously as they studied each other silently. He briefly considered pulling out his swords, believing he’d found his fight, but changed his mind when he realized she didn’t seem to be carrying any weapons. If she had, surely she would’ve drawn it by now.

Slowly, she nodded to him in acknowledgement before turning and disappearing around the corner. He hurried to follow but she was nowhere to be seen when he poked his head out of the alley. Maybe she really was a spirit of some sort. Ba Sing Se was certainly weird enough for it.

Kena woke up late in the morning, sunshine streaming in through her small window and directly across her closed eyelids. She sighed and turned over, burying her face into the pillow to maybe sneak a few more minutes. That, is until whoever was at the door started banging on it again like they had been when they’d woken her. She continued to lay there, listening for Fera. They knocked again. Clearly Fera wouldn’t be answering this morning. She had probably already left for her job as a maid for a wealthy family in the Upper Ring. Groaning, she pushed herself to her feet and wrapped her robe around her body.

“I’m coming, I’m coming! Spirits, just stop banging on the door before you break the damn thing!” She yanked the door open only to immediately be trampled by four raucous girls rushing into the apartment.

“Morning, sunshine!”

“Are you okay? You just left us yesterday!”

“Yeah, you looked like you’d run into a spirit or something!”

“Did he reject you for some reason? Do we need to go knock him around for a bit until he finds his sense?”

“Because we totally will.”

“Yeah, we can take that skinny kid, easy.”

Kena laughed at her friends. “Guys, it’s fine. Last night I just remembered that Fera had asked me to pick something up for dinner from the market and I’d totally forgotten so I had to hurry. Sorry I didn’t say anything, you know my one-track mind.” She went to the kitchen to put on some tea while the rest all settled down in the living room.

“But you did ask him out, right?” Jin pressed and Kena rolled her eyes, cheeks heating up.

“Yes. You guys shoved me back in there.”

The girls looked at her expectantly. “And? What did he say?” Mona gestured for her to continue, raising her eyebrows.

“He said yes,” she answered quietly and her friends immediately started hooting and hollering. “Shut up! The neighbors are gonna make a noise complaint again!”

“Aren’t you excited, Sola?” Kyali sighed dreamily, clasping her hands. “I don’t think you’ve been on a date in the entire time we’ve known you and now you’re going out with this hot, brooding, mysterious guy.”

“I bet he writes poetry,” said Oma. “Maybe he’ll write something about you!”

“You guys are insane,” Kena laughed, shaking her head. “All of you need to stop reading those garbage romance books.”

“Look, we all already know you’re Miss Independent and you don’t need a man or whatever. You can be excited about your date tonight,” Jin said pointedly. Kena rolled her eyes as she carried over the pot of tea and five cups.

“Fine, okay; I’m a little excited,” she said, pouring everyone a cup before sitting on the mat next to Mona. She was more than a little excited, but for different reasons than her friends thought. She was also incredibly nervous, unsure of whether or not to confront her childhood best friend.

Mona took a sip and smirked. “Is this jasmine?” Kena shook her head exasperatedly, hiding a smile, as her friends all laughed.

Zuko sat on the floor in front of his uncle, who by all appearances was attacking him with a small comb. He winced when the teeth pulled through another knot, grumbling.

“Nephew, when was the last time you combed your hair?” Iroh tsked as he gave another mighty pull.

“I’ve had bigger things to worry about recently, in case you forgot,” Zuko responded. Iroh sighed dramatically.

“Often, we only feel inside as good as we look outside,” he said. Zuko rolled his eyes.

“This seems like a little much.”

“It’s your first date with this girl! You need to make a good first impression.”

“I’ve already made a first impression. She knocked me over and cut her hand open.”

“And that was very kind of you to help her!”

“You kind of gave me no choice.”

“I could tell you liked her, I was just pushing you in the right direction,” Iroh said smugly and Zuko grimaced. “But you’re still working on your first impression. A first impression only ends when the relationship does.”

“That doesn’t make any sense, Uncle.” Zuko made a strangled noise of protest as Iroh started slicking his hair down with some sort of slimy paste.

“I used to be very popular with the ladies in my prime. I can give you some tips, if you’d like.”

“I would not,” Zuko interjected quickly but his uncle steamrolled ahead anyways.

“First, you should compliment her as soon as you see her. Tell her she is more radiant than the first fire lily of spring.”

“Talking about fire lilies seems like a bad move,” Zuko said. His cheeks tinged pink, however, remembering the fire lily he gave her that night in the palace — the last time he’d ever seen her until the day before.

“Perhaps you’re right, Nephew,” Iroh mused, looking thoughtful. “Instead, tell her that her eyes are more captivating than a moon flower during a lunar eclipse. Or, perhaps that her presence is as warm and comforting as a fresh cup of tea on a winter night! Remember, this could be your future wife!”

“That’s enough, thank you.” Zuko stood quickly, having heard enough to be sufficiently embarrassed. “You’re going to make me late if you keep messing with my hair.”

“I suppose that will be as good as it’s going to get, then. Do a turn so I can see you properly.”

“Uncle, honestly-“

“Turn, Prince Zuko.” Exasperated, Zuko turned in a quick circle, shoulders tense as Iroh scrutinized him. “You look very handsome! But you would look much better if you smiled.” Iroh beamed as if to demonstrate and Zuko gave him a sour look. “I said ‘smile,’ not ‘scowl.’ Don’t do that in front of her.”

“I’m leaving now,” Zuko said flatly, walking towards the door.

“Be nice! Pay for dinner! Don’t frown! Stay out as late as you want, I won’t wait up,” Iroh called after him as he hurried out.

Kena felt her heart start racing when she caught sight of him outside the Pao Family Tea House, hair combed and flattened into a middle part that she had to swallow a laugh about — surely Iroh’s work.

“Hey, Lee,” she said as she approached. “You look so cute.” She laughed and she ruffled his hair. He gave her a pained look and caught her wrist in his hand.

“It took my uncle ten minutes to do my hair.”

“That’s sweet,” she said with a soft smile, surprising him as she laced their fingers together. He willed himself not to go red in the face. “Come on, the festival’s already begun!”

She dragged him through the streets, talking excitedly about the food she wanted him to try and a few performers that would be on the stage in the middle of the Lower Ring later. He didn’t say much, just enjoyed her presence and the fact that she was alive and here and somehow with him. Any chance he got he stared at her, analyzing every detail of her face and comparing it to what he could remember from childhood. She still had the same medium-brown skin, dark hair, and grey eyes of course, but it all felt new and exciting again; her hair was longer and flowed freely down her back and her eyes, though still kind and sparkling, held something deeper that had not been there before. He also noticed a long, thin white scar that trailed down the left side of her face from her forehead, through her eyebrow, and down to the corner of her jaw. The thought of someone hurting her made him angrier than he’d anticipated, but he tried not to focus on it. Instead he fixated on how she was almost always smiling or laughing, how casually and comfortably she touched him when she held his hand or grabbed his arm when he made her laugh or brushed her fingers against his forehead when she put a goofy hat she’d won in a game on top of his head. It had been a long time since he’d let himself just be around someone, and it felt incredible. She was still, despite everything, so unabashedly Kena that it made his heart squeeze in his chest. He didn’t know how he hadn’t recognized her as soon as he laid eyes on her, because it seemed overwhelmingly obvious now.

Kena, meanwhile, was trying her hardest to get him to slip up. Something had happened between that night and the day before, because she saw immediately from the way he looked at her that he knew. She figured it was only a matter of time before he misstepped somewhere.

“Lee is an interesting name,” she’d mentioned casually as they watched two contortionists on stage twist themselves into impossible positions.

“I really have to beg to differ on that one,” he’d said in response.

“It’s just a very common name in the Fire Nation, you know? Before I came to Ba Sing Se, there were at least a dozen people named Lee in even the smallest villages. But oddly enough, I’ve never met anyone named Lee here except for you.”

He’d simply shrugged and said, “my village was colonized by the Fire Nation decades ago. I guess the name bled into the local culture.” She’d hummed noncommittally at that and went back to square one with a new plan.

“So, you mentioned you and your uncle traveled around a lot,” she’d started. “Why?”

He hesitated just a beat too long. “We were... uh, part of this traveling circus.” She couldn’t believe he didn’t have a better lie ready.

“Really? What did you do? Actually, let me guess.” She tapped her chin for dramatic effect as she considered something Zuko would likely be awful at. Her face split into a wicked grin. “You juggled!”

He looked at her, slightly annoyed. “Yeah, you got me. I juggled.”

“I’ve always wanted to learn how to juggle. Can you show me something?” She handed him a couple small fruits from a cart they were standing near, looking up at him expectantly. He looked ashen as he slowly took them from her. Awkwardly, he threw them up in the air and they flew in wildly different directions, one landing directly on his head.

“I haven’t practiced for a while.” He cleared his throat, a deep red creeping across his cheeks as she laughed.

“Ah, I understand.”

When they stopped for food at a noodle cart, she’d mentioned they offered supposedly authentic Fire Nation fire flakes. He’d nodded in acknowledgement and then ordered the blandest thing on the menu. The prince was certainly going to give her a run for her money.

Zuko didn’t understand why she kept bringing up the Fire Nation throughout the night. Did she know? He didn’t think she did. She hadn’t at the tea shop, why would she now? Did he do something to tip her off? She’d been in Ba Sing Se for many years; she most likely had heard nothing about his banishment or his hunt for the Avatar and had yet to bring up anything about his scar. He hoped that she didn’t think he was here to hurt people — surely she wouldn’t have asked him on a date if she thought that, right?

Night had long since fallen, but the streets were still bursting with light and life from the festival. He had a small grin on his face while he watched Kena start an argument with a man running some rigged betting game. She accused him of cheating and he shouted at her to leave immediately or he’d call in the Dai Li. Grumbling, Kena grabbed his hand again and stalked away. He was still smiling as she pulled him along and she sent him a (mostly) playful glare.

“What are you grinning at? I just lost ten silver pieces!” she huffed.

“You,” he responded without thinking. Realizing what he said, he quickly shut his mouth. They both flush and looked away from each other.

She took in a deep breath to regain her composure before turning her head to look at him again. “Do you want to see something cool?” There was no way he would’ve been able to refuse that excited look in her eye, even if he’d wanted to.

Zuko followed as she lead him into an alley and started climbing up a fire escape. He watched as she nimbly maneuvered herself higher and higher. “Are you sure this is... legal?” he asked hesitantly.

“It’s not,” she called down to him, peeking her head over the railing, “but it’s alright! We’re crafty. Now hurry up or we’ll miss it!”

“If you say so...” he trailed off as he gripped the side of the ladder and started making his way up. When he reached the top, he found her sitting with her legs dangling over the edge of the flat roof and staring at the city skyline, holding her chin in her hands. He sat down next to her and took the opportunity of the quiet moment to examine her profile illuminated by the festival lights below. She leaned her head on his shoulder and sighed contentedly. At first he tensed but then he slowly relaxed, slowly wrapping his arm around around her waist. They sat in comfortable silence for a few minutes, taking in the view. Well, she was taking in the view; Zuko was trying to ignore the goosebumps running across his skin from her warm breath dancing across his neck.

“Lee,” she started quietly, “I know we just met yesterday, but I think I really like you.”

“I really like you, too,” he agreed, surprising himself a little. He rested his cheek on top of her head and closed his eyes. She still smelled the same — something fresh and pleasant and clean that he couldn’t quite put his finger on.

Kena was tired of dancing around what they both knew. Throwing caution to the wind, she cleared her throat and spoke. “You know, I used to be a servant for the royal family in the Fire Nation.”

He cursed himself for the way his whole body flinched. “Yeah? How was that?”

“Terrible. I was taken from my home when I was young and kept there for years. It was just my mom and I.”

“No friends?”

“They don’t exactly let the help just make friends all willy-nilly. That’s a good foundation for a staff revolt.” She rolled her eyes. “I did have one friend I managed to make though.”

“Oh, that’s nice.”

“Yeah, except he was the prince.”

She heard his breath hitch. “Oh. That’s rough.”

“Yeah. That’s why we had to leave, actually. Ozai found out and was not happy his firebender son was making nice with someone like me. Apparently he wanted to execute us to make some sort of point, but Ursa and the other servants helped us sneak out of the palace before we were taken to be killed.”

“I’ve heard a lot of good about Ursa,” he said softly, tenderness in his voice.

“She was a wonderful woman. There was a lot of her in the prince, too. I guess that’s why I liked them so much.” He said nothing, so she continued. “It broke my heart to leave. I never even got to say goodbye even though I pinky-promised to see him again the night before Ozai found out.” She thought for a moment. “I always wondered if he ever thought of me, because I thought of him all the time.”

“I- he did. Probably. I don’t know,” he huffed. “I mean that I think, if it were me, I would’ve thought about you every day.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

They were quiet for a long time before Kena finally spoke, smiling faintly. “You and your uncle stick out like two sore thumbs here.”

His shoulder shook under her cheek when he chuckled. “I know. I think it started out as a joke, and then we actually couldn’t think of anything better.”

She sat up straight now and cupped his face in her hands. Gently, she brushed her thumb over the rough, gnarled skin on his cheek. She wasn’t sure why, but a few slow tears rolled down her cheeks. “We match,” she said softly, meeting his eyes when he used his fingertip to trace the scar that ran down her face.

“It looks much better on you,” he joked and she gave him a watery smile. “I thought I’d never see you again.”

Suddenly, she lunged at him to squeeze him in a tight hug, knocking them both backwards into a pile. “It’ll take a lot more than your awful father to kill me,” she murmured into his chest from her position on top of him. Hesitant at first, he wrapped his arms around her. It just felt so right to be with her again. He couldn’t help tightening his grip and burying his face into her cascade of hair. In the background he could hear fireworks going off, but he didn’t care about anything that wasn’t her.

“I missed you, Kena,” he said, so quietly the wind almost carried the words away. His lungs ached because her name on his lips felt like a long, full breath of fresh air after years underwater.

“I missed you too, Zuko.” Her cool skin against his warmth felt like a wave of water over the flames inside of him. He finally, for the first time he could remember since losing his mother, felt safe. He clutched at her clothes to pull her in as close as possible, breathing her in deeply. She smelled like the first monsoon after a lifelong dry season; she smelled like petrichor.

A/N:

TAGS: @beifongsss @the-lva-way @lammello @llorom6nnic @idkdude776 @aangsupremacy @royahllty @mamooska8 @bucky-blogs @youneedmemanidonotneedyou @eridanuswave @rosetheshapeshifter @fantasticchaoticwho @bwndito @dancerslovelife @justab-eautifulmess

[only-lurkin-dont-mind-me]

A Scarecrow Named Cyrus (Scarecrow Monster x Reader)

With a sigh, you looked over the rolling fields before you. Rows of corn, a small cluster of apple trees, a fine crop of pumpkins, some potatoes, and a small assortment of herbs. All ripe for a good fall harvest. Along with the fall faring flowers growing here and there with a controlled wildness to them. 

You had expanded your efforts in farming this year, and it was certainly paying off. Sure tending to so many good crops was hard work, but nothing you weren't capable of handling. Your little town could thank the roughness of your hands and your gentle nurturing attitude for such fine results. 

With October finally arriving, it would soon be time to harvest and sell off most of your crops. Until then, you had to prepare for the pumpkin patch the town was eagerly anticipating. You had chosen to host the pumpkin patch this year, and you were out to prove yourself to some of the less than pleasant members of the town. 

Did those people who irked you by commenting on your capabilities deserve your attention? Of course not. Did you feel spiteful and eager to prove them wrong to piss them off? More than anything else. 

Looking over your rows of pumpkins, you saw movement that was most definitely not the leaves and vines. With a confused glance, you made your way over. Your footsteps seemed to spook two rabbits that had been gorging themselves on one of the smaller gourds. As soon as they caught sight of you, they turned tail and ran as fast as they could. 

"Damn critters," with a huff of frustration, you kneeled. Turning the pumpkin over in your hands, observing the now broken backside of it. You gave the pumpkin a sad pat, hearing the hollow echo as you plucked it from the vine. "Sorry, buddy, not much left to do now but call you the first Jack 'o' Lantern of the year." 

With that, you wandered inside your small home. Already thinking of what you could do around the decent-sized hole in the side of the pumpkin to make it look intentional. Maybe a sideways face with a big 'o' mouth? That might work. 

As you set the pumpkin down and set to work you pondered over the rabbits. This wasn't the first time you'd caught something in your fields. Even when you were out among your crops, there would be birds, rabbits, foxes, and the occasional curious dog having escaped its yard. 

You couldn't keep watch over all of your crops all the time. Farm dogs were great to have but were mostly used for herding, guarding flocks, or guarding property against predators, not running off birds at the sight of them. Even rat dogs like terriers only caught mice in the barns much as a good mouser cat would. Where did that leave you? 

As you looked around the room for a hint of inspiration, you looked to a little fall card you had been given by one of your lovely neighbors, Ms. Ruby Jane. A darling old lady who had a good herd of sheep and great skill in baking. you would often help her tend to alongside her dog, Russel. 

A cartoon scarecrow stared back at you on the front of the card. 

"Would that work?" pondering aloud, you carried the little pumpkin to your window sill and placed it looking out to the fields. With the thought of a scarecrow in mind, you began wandering the house looking for a few things you could use. 

An old red and black flannel shirt, A pair of work jeans that you hardly used anymore. One of your old sunhats and lastly, gloves that you had stopped using some time ago. All you were missing was some scrap fabric to stitch together it's head, and hay to stuff it. Excited over a new project, you dashed off to Ms. Ruby Jane's farm. You knew she always had scrap fabric and hay bales for her sheep that you could buy.

"Well, ain't this a nice surprise? Good afternoon dear, please come on inside," Ms. Ruby Jane held out an arm, inviting you inside with a warm smile. 

"Thank you, ma'am. I don't mean to barge in out of nowhere," you tried to apologize for the unexpected visit only to have her wave you off.

"Nonsense, I always appreciate the company," she wandered off to the living room, no doubt to her chair settled by the fireplace. You followed suit, finding your usual spot on her couch. Russel, her rottweiler, looked up to you with the same expression that always made him look like he was smiling. 

"Hey, buddy." 

Russel huffed in response and settled back down, not appreciating being woken up from his midday nap. 

Ms. Ruby Jane spoke in her warm voice, calling your attention back to her. "Not that I don't mind the visit, but was there somethin' specific you came lookin' for?" leave it to her to know when you always needed something. 

"Yes, Ma'am actually, I was gonna ask if you had any scrap fabric I could use for a scarecrow? I have needles and thread for patchin' my clothes but nothin' the size I would need for, well, a head. I was also gonna ask if I could buy one of your haybales for stuffin' if that's alright."

Ms. Ruby Jane stood slowly, "Of course, of course, I've always got somethin' in that ol' chest of mine that you could use. You just wait right here and keep Russel company while I find you somethin' you can use to keep those fields of yours in shape," with that she began walking up the stairs behind you, going to rummage around in one of those old rooms that she asked people to stay out of.

  Ms. Ruby Jane was a mysterious person to be sure, but her privacy was hers and not something to question. She had shown up in town one day out of nowhere. Her home seemed to appear overnight, her sheep coming from the woods that surrounded that same little home. She was always kind to you and made sure you were doing well. You tried to do the same, helping her find any missing sheep, shearing them on occasion if she was too busy to manage to wrangle them up. Getting her haybale loads to her barn, anything you could lend a hand with you tried to do. 

It didn't take long for her to return with a mischievous glint in her eyes and a brown piece of fabric, cut clean and sized perfectly for what you needed. As she handed it to you, it felt strange. Warm, most likely from her hands. The fabric seemed nicer than you were anticipating. "Ms. Ruby Jane This is some of your nice fabric, made for dresses and suits. I can't use this; I would feel bad," you tried to explain but quickly realized that she would hear none of it.

As you looked over the pictures on her walls, you never once saw any family photos. Pictures of places she had lived, friends she had made, some of her favorite animal companions, some paintings she especially enjoyed painting. You hadn't asked about any family, she seemed happy just her, Russel, and her flock. Who were you to judge? 

"Dear, I have nothin' left to create with this, I am askin' that you put it to good use and think nothin' of it bein' too much. You do so much for me. Let me pay forward the favor," she stated with a finality in her words that you couldn't find it in you to disagree. 

"Yes, Ma'am, I'll be sure to stop by again soon. I'll bring your apples from the fields. They're gonna be ready for bakin' by then!" You promised as you headed off back home, ready to start stitching your Scarecrow together.

"Of course, now you make sure to stop by mine again and let me know how it goes, alright?" Ms. Ruby Jane questioned as she walked you to the door, sensing your excitement with each step. 

After you got home it took a total hour to stitch up the clothes and stuff them, it took an additional thirty minutes to stuff and attach the gloves, another five minutes rummaging for an old pair of boots that you could put on the scarecrow, and that was it. All that was left was stitching together the face and attaching the pair of large black buttons you had found for eyes. As you went to grab the fabric strip Ms. Ruby Jane had given you though, you couldn't find it. You scoured the house for the next hour, unsure as to where it could have gone and you felt rather upset at that point. 

"Thank you, ma'am, that's real kind of you," the fabric held weight in your hands, more than what it should have. Then again, you weren't much of a tailor. You didn't know much beyond patching a hole in clothes, so what did you know?

'It's gettin' too late to keep this up,' you thought with a disappointed sigh. You looked to the nearly complete Scarecrow laying on your table. Walking over to it and placing a hand on its hay-filled torso, patting it lightly, you spoke, "Don't worry, bud, I'll find your noggin sooner or later, then we'll get you out in the fields. Till then, you just rest up. I'll see you in the mornin'," you began to walk down the hall to your room, bidding the Scarecrow goodnight.

It took three days. Each day you would greet the headless scarecrow laying on your table, waiting to be complete. You would talk to it like it could hear you while cooking, or cleaning, or just in passing. As humans do, you grew attached to an inanimate object and named him, Cyrus. The first day you built his post, a simple thing with strong oak wood to hold him high in the fields, with a prop for both his arms and his legs, to keep him from falling. The second day you worked on picking the pumpkins and laying them out for the pumpkin patch. On the third day, you were picking Ms. Ruby Jane's apples to bring inside and wash off in the kitchen.

"Now where in the world..." Your voice trailed off as you walked over to the Scarecrow. In its gloved hand was the strip of fabric you had been looking for. You cautiously picked up the fabric. Looking it over to check if there was anything wrong. Determining that it was just as you had last seen it. You looked to the Scarecrow in confusion, "Were you the one hidin' this from me, or did you find it for me?" You questioned jokingly, hoping to settle the unease you felt in your gut. 

"I'm tellin' you, Cyrus, the corn maze is going to be great this year, so long as we can keep all those critters from eating it all up before families come to get lost going through it," you jokingly stated. Stealing a glance at the lifeless hay stuffed figure, laying on your table still. That's when you froze up in confusion and set down the last apple you had been cleaning. 

"Well, I suppose it's a good night for some stitchin', full moon's finally out, and I'm done workin' for the day so I've some time to kill," Why you decided to stitch the head together, you still don't know. But, turning down any gift from Ms. Ruby Jane left a bad taste in your mouth, you'd put the Scarecrow together, get it outside come morning time, and if a day went by and all was fine, you'd leave it be. 

As you were cleaning the apples, you were once again talking to the Scarecrow.

It took less than an hour, and only that long because how do you stitch together a circular shape? You were able to figure it out after a quick youtube search and had it done in no time. you even got the buttons eyes on and all even.

Connecting the stitches to the body, however, felt... odd. Like someone was watching you, waiting for something to happen. It wasn't necessarily a bad type of odd just not normal in the way you knew things to be. 

Cradling Cyrus's head in the crook of your elbow. Holding together the head and the collar of the shirt in one hand, and stitching with the other. It was almost peaceful if not for the odd feeling lingering. The same feeling kept you from looking at the scarecrows button eyes as if they were actually watching you.

As soon as you were finished, you took a step back to calm your nerves. Staring at the Scarecrow with unease that soon dissipated. It didn't move. It wasn't like it was anything but a hay-stuffed creation of your own hand, you were just scaring yourself. 

You let yourself laugh at the ridiculousness of your fear. Feeling it melt away bit by bit. "Oh, boy I sure have been workin' too hard or somethin'. Can you believe that little ol' you got me shakin' for a minute there? Cyrus, I tell ya, I'm about a half a step from loosin' it some day's," You looked over the Scarecrow with fondness in your eyes, this was yours, You had made him stitch by stitch, and you scared yourself over your own Scarecrow, irony sure was funny sometimes.

  You stepped forward and reached a hand out to pat the Scarecrows shoulder, feeling the hay rustle underneath the shirt. "Sure hope you don't mind, buddy." With one final pat, you walked off to your room, ready to sleep and give your hands a break. "I'll get you out on your post tomorrow, Cyrus, sleep well," you called out behind you. Hearing no response, just like you had expected.

 Standing on the stepladder and making sure it's settled on its post properly and that the short rope pieces are holding it in place well enough. After deciding that the Scarecrow is good and secure, you place a hand on its shoulder. "Course you can manage this, you'll do just fine. Keep an eye on these fields for me while I'm gone and when I'm here if you could. Thanks, Bud," with a quick 'Goodluck' you climb back down the step ladder and carry it back to the barn before setting out to the daily grind. 

The next morning you did as you promised. Lifting the Scarecrow over your shoulder and carrying him out to the center of the cornfield, right to its post.

First up was watering the herbs and wildflowers; they were smaller plants, so you took care to water them by hand to ensure they didn't get the wrong amount, leaving the bigger crops to the sprinkler system. After that, it was trimming dead leaves off of the corn stalks to make them look more presentable for the pumpkin patch. Lastly, you dove into the corn maze, along the cleared paths you had marked down before planting around them. They needed some clearing out and trail marking, so people knew what path to stay on and didn't try to go through the corn... Again. 

Throughout all of this, you would keep an eye on Cyrus. He seemed to be doing his job fairly well. You hadn't seen a bird land or catch any grounded critters running amock just yet. Hopefully, the new factor of him wouldn't wear off and would continue to keep those pesky animals away from your crops.

"Cyrus, you listen to me now. Your job here is to watch over these here fields for me and, try to keep all those critters and strays out of these crops. Can you manage that?" You ask the Scarecrow with a playful smile as if it would respond.

Over the next three days, your heavy work outside paid off, and come nighttime you were ready to open the pumpkin patch. the sun was just beginning to set as people filtered in through the front garden archway. It was covered in vines from the pumpkins that had already been harvested and displayed in rows close to the entrance. After that, there was the entrance to the corn maze as well as a small stand for hot chocolate to warm up the cold night. Baskets of apples stacked closeby as well. 

There were even multiple wooden tables with pumpkin carving kits for those who wanted to get to carving. Lights strung about here and there lighted the areas as the sun fell further and further, and the many groups of people that had finally arrived seemed to be enjoying their time, talking and laughing. It was just a good night.

Through it all, your scarecrow did a wonderful job of scaring off any unwanted visitors. 

'It really was been a good idea to make him,' you thought to yourself. Enjoying the joyful air surrounding your pumpkin patch. A group of teens caught your eye, they were walking out of the exit of the corn maze, laughing and scaring each other. You didn't think anything of it until you heard their remarks.

"I'm tellin' y'all, that scarecrow came out of nowhere! Damn thing scared the shit outta me." 

"Aw did little baby, Jackson get scared? Poor baby Jackson!"

"Shut up, man. You saw it too."

"And? It was probably just some guy paid to dress up and scare everyone that he wants to. I mean honestly, what a life. Can that be my job?"

That uneasy feeling you had felt when first stitching the Scarecrows head together returned stronger than before. You were quick to make your way through the maze, knowing just how to get to the center where the Scarecrow was. 

Under the full moon, you could see the Scarecrow clearly as its head slowly, uncertainly, lifted, and lolled slightly in your direction. His button eyes somehow seemingly staring directly at you. 

As you reached the center, you realized that you were the only one in the corn maze, you couldn't hear anyone else nearby. Maybe that was for the best.

You jerked your hand away from him as you watched in terror as this hay stuffed inanimate object... moved. His head followed you as you took steps back. He seemed to consider your response before, almost dejectedly, slumping back into its original position. 

Staring in a sense of confusion, trying to convince yourself you were scaring yourself again, you quickly made your way back out of the corn maze. You made it out just in time to see the last small family leaving the pumpkin patch. Fair enough it was getting late, that also meant you were now totally alone. 

You looked up to your Scarecrow, unable to tell if his position had changed. "Cyrus? You're doin' a good job keeping all those critters off the crops, just try to remember that the people here right now are invited here, they're alright to roam around long as they're not breakin' anything', they're welcome here." You walked over to the scarecrow cautiously, patting its lower leg where you could reach. "You doin' good out here, Buddy?" Your voice grew quieter as you asked as if fearing a response. 

You turned back to the scarecrow to see His head facing you once again. You looked between the garden entrance, debating running to Ms. Ruby Jane's, and back to Cyrus. Wondering if you should go figure out just what, why, how, anything was. 

He had been up for days now, and you hadn't heard almost anything about him. If he had bad intentions he could have done something the first night he was complete and still in your home. 

With one final look to the entrance, you made up your mind and rushed out and away from your farm.

Ms. Ruby Jane seemed to expect your arrival as she had two cups of tea set out along with a tray of sweets on her coffee table. Something about her behavior was off, however. Even Russel seemed far more attentive to the conversation at hand. 

"Now what did you say he did, dear one?" She asked in an eerily calm voice, the light from the fireplace giving her dark skin an almost ethereal glow. Her eyes seemed far more focused than you had seen before. 

"He moves, Ms. Ruby June!" You quickly stood up and began to pace the room, fear now evident in your actions and tone. "He moves and has apparently been able to. I ignored those little things like that bit of fabric going missin' only to appear in his hand, his headless bodies hay stuffed hand! He's alive apparently, a scarecrow looking around like he's got eyes to see instead of buttons, movin' like he's got muscle and bone inside of him instead of stuffin', he moves!" You looked directly at her for the first time during your fear-induced raving, and any fear immediately melted away. 

She was smiling, a proud sort of smile a parent would have whenever their child made something new. 

"You. You knew he would, didn't you?" Your question came out more like a statement as you slowly sat back on the couch. Russel walked over slowly and placed one of his paws on your foot in a far too understanding way for your liking. 

"I knew that if you treated that scarecrow like you treat anythin' else, he would more than happily accept his roll on your farm as somethin', someone, to help you. I know that you're a kindhearted person, dear. You've helped out this ol' lady more times than she can count. All I did was give you the materials for him to be a walkin', talkin', creature. It was your heart that gave him that last kick to get his sentience goin'," Ms. Ruby Jane picked up her cup and took a sip of her tea, still as relaxed as ever as you processed her words. 

You looked up at her, with one word on your mind. "Why?" Your voice came out weak, uncertain in the face of powers you didn't understand. 

She looked in her cup for a moment before letting out a sight. 

Russel, immediately sensing the change in mood, moved to her side. She reached her hand out to pat his head as she spoke. "I can't stay here forever, dear. I'll be headed on somewhere new soon, and you have done so much for me over the years I've lived here. I had to find some way to repay you, so when you came here lookin' for somethin' to finish making that scarecrow with? I knew it was the perfect time to give you the chance to create someone who could keep an eye on you, and help you once I'm gone." She looked you in the eye as she finished explaining. "I am paying forward your favor, I couldn't leave until I had and now I have." With those words, something in the air seemed to shift. as if the house itself had let out a breath it had been holding for so long. 

You understood a fraction of the hidden layers to her words. Ms. Ruby Jane was far more than she appeared but didn't seem open to discussing anything further, so you nodded your head in acceptance of her explanation. 

"Thank you, as always Ms. Ruby Jane,"  her words calmed you entirely. There were some things you wouldn't always understand or comprehend, but at the same time, you knew you couldn't turn down this kindness.

She smiled at you once again, "Of course, child. Now you best run along, you shouldn't be out so late for too long," Ms. Ruby Jane stood and guided you to the door. Giving you one last hug. Russel followed beside her and waited for his goodbye pet. As soon as he was satisfied, you began the walk home.

Once you finally made it back home, you looked to the Scarecrows Pole. Only to find it empty. You had to remind yourself that this was a gift from Ms. Ruby June, and she would never gift something she thought would harm you. You didn't have any reason to be afraid. Unfortunately, logic isn't always what your heart listened to. 

Once you reached the center of the cornfield, you found him. Having managed to untie himself and climb down, Cyrus stood, slouched in front of his pole. Staring dead ahead at you. Waiting for your next move.

You took an uncertain breath and stepped forward, "Cyrus?" 

Any words you were going to say next were cut off as the Scarecrow stood up straight, and tilted his head back. A deep throaty gurgling sound rose from inside of his very much hay stuffed neck. 

You stared with a newfound horror as the fabric of his face tore apart in jagged pointed lines, almost like rows of fangs forming where his mouth ought be. As his mouth opened wider and wider, you saw nothing but darkness inside of him.

The very sight had you ready to run right back to Ms. Ruby Jane but you were frozen in place. 

He took a slow step forward, finding his legs and maneuvering in a jerky awkward fashion that grew more steady with each step. " ..My cre..ator" His voice was louder this time, trying to find the right volume, the right way to put together the sounds. 

Cyrus looked back down at you. And he smiled a wide joyful smile that made any thoughts of running stop. You watched as his new-formed mouth moved and shifted as if trying to mimic the way your mouth moved whenever you spoke. A rumbling voice rose from his chest as he tried to speak. "..m...My. cre..a..tor."

The words made any sense of dread vanish. Confusion and awe were all that remained. "What are you trying to say?" you questioned with a gentle tone, encouraging him to try again.

You took a few steps forward, an arm reaching out as he stumbled, ready to catch him. "Try again, Cyrus. You can do it," Your eyes shown with clear excitement and fondness for the creature in front of you. 

He looked to your outstretched hand and reached for it, slowly, cautiously, figuring out the movements as he went. "My," Cyrus managed another step, now only a foot away and having stopped walking. He slowly maneuvered his other arm, reaching out a glove stuffed hand to carefully touch your cheek in wonder. "Creator." Cyrus wore a proud grin over having found the words. 

You, in shared delight quickly wrapped the scarecrow in a tight hug, able to lift him off the ground and spin circles with ease. "Atta boy, Cyrus!" You set him back down and grabbed his hands.

Cyrus seemed to only grow in enthusiasm over your response, grin growing wider as he began repeating the phrase, allowing himself to fall forward into your arms once more. He finally fell silent, wrapping hay stuffed arms around you, completely content to settle into your hug for a good bit.

You couldn't find it in yourself to complain, still beaming, you held him tight, pride welling up in your chest. "Good job, Cyrus."

[ashtonangst]

Bet. / Ashton Irwin

Hello friends and welcome to ashtonangst’s first ever full on smut! This was something I typed up at midnight, during my prime thirst hours. Thanks to @kindahoping4forever​ for proofing it for me and hyping me up xoxo luv u 

Word Count: 2.6k

Rating: R

Warnings: blink-and-you’ll-miss-it masturbation and daddy kink; dirty talk; oral (m+f receiving); teasing; unprotected sex in a committed relationship

Let me know what you think!

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

     The book sat heavy in your lap. Unopened, begging to be read. The fantasies within its pages were nothing compared to the ones you couldn’t stop thinking about.

     It was a dare. You were fed up with Ashton’s incessant need to be fucked (not that you protested often). It was as if his hands had a libido of their own. You’d dared him to go one week without touching you--or himself. General displays of affection were permissible, but absolutely nothing sexual. The winner of this dare would choose what the other did to them. When you gave him this challenge, you knew he would cave. He always does. Except this time it was different.

     After a year together you knew what made each other tick. You shared the same fantasies and carried these out often. This time, Ashton decided to use this knowledge to his advantage. He started walking around in nothing but his (and your) favorite pair of lounging shorts. He made a show of adjusting himself to let you know he wasn’t wearing any underwear. Then, in his practice sessions, he invited you to watch, knowing how much you loved to watch him make perfect rhythms from his head. He waited until you were up and focused on other things to go for his daily canyon jog. He made a show of stretching (his “warm ups”) in that tank top--the white one that he knew drove you mad--until you were practically drooling at the sight of his muscles flexing under the fabric. 

     One particular day, closer to when the tension was so thick you almost thought you could give in, he caught you ogling at the combination he’d chosen for his workout: the dreaded white tank and the tightest pair of black athletic shorts he owned, a combination that was sure to send warmth between your thighs. 

     “Like what you see, love?” he smirked, choosing his playlist for the workout. 

     “I always do, but don’t think you’re gonna win this one this time, baby,” you retort, trying not to stare as he made his way over to stand next to you while he prepared his water bottle. He chuckles softly, screwing the lid onto the container and flexing at the same time. “Don’t think I haven’t noticed you trying to get me to cave. My willpower has always been stronger than yours, you know this.”

     “I know,” he breathes, coming to stand behind your chair at the kitchen island where you were enjoying your morning coffee. “But never underestimate a man’s desire to have his girlfriend writhing under him in complete and total ecstasy,” he places kisses up and down your neck in the process--just barely staying within the guidelines of the dare. “I can’t wait to have you screaming for my cock...begging me to fuck you raw because you were just too fucking greedy to win at your own game and you’re mad that I haven’t let you cum all night.” He leans up, walking towards the door and grabbing his belongings. You frustratedly sigh at his absence, the filthy words that came from his mouth only seconds before making you want just that--right then and there. 

     That’s how you ended up trying to read the latest novel on your list to distract yourself from the growing need you felt deep in the pits of your stomach. The further your eyes scanned the pages, the more the words ran together, eventually forming pages and pages of black lines. Between those lines was Ashton, his cock hitting in those just-right places, coaxing you to your fifth orgasm. Eventually you blink yourself out of this fantasy. 

     You were the one who suggested this little game, you weren’t about to lose at your own game. That was until you found your hand traveling farther and farther down your body, until it disappeared under the waistband of your panties, finding your clit with ease. As you slowly started to rub yourself, you’re drawn out of your own fantasies by the sound of Ashton’s keys jingling in the lock. You quickly compose yourself, and before he has the door open you’re waltzing into the kitchen to place your mug in the sink. You give him a coy smile, “hi, darling. Looks like your workout went well.”

     “It was very nice, thanks for asking. I kind of bit myself in the ass, though, from my stunt this morning. I couldn’t stop thinking about licking your pussy until you’re cumming all over my mouth.”

     You look up at him with wide eyes before a smirk forms on your lips. “Ashton Irwin, are you admitting defeat?” 

     His shoulders hang in mock surrender. “Only if it means that part of your punishment for losing the bet is that I get to taste that sweet pussy of yours.”

     You slowly approach him, giving him the same lust-filled eyes he’s giving you. “Think about how good I taste while you’re showering. Then I’ll think about letting you eat my pussy.” He hums with lust thick in his throat as he heads toward the shower. You smile to yourself, knowing you’re not going to give up so quickly.

     You’re nowhere to be found when he’s showered from his late-morning jog. You’re out grabbing the groceries he forgot to pick up, he thinks. He also wonders if he’ll have time to hide the evidence if he spurts his own load all over his clean shirt, his shorts, and the sheets. Just as you had been so rudely interrupted earlier, he, too, found himself scrambling to act casual as he heard the sliding door to the garden snap shut. He smiles at you as you make your way back into the shared bedroom. “I wasn’t admitting defeat, you know. Just letting you know what I’m going to do to you once I win our bet.” 

     You give him a curt smile. “Fine, let’s add three more days onto this bet.”

______

     The week passes with relatively little tension. Sure, it’s always there, but the two of you were too stubborn to admit defeat and give into your own desires that the bet was still on and going strong. That is, until you hear Ashton’s weak groans as he’s in the shower. You immediately know that he’s launching weak spurts of his cum onto the shower wall. He’s caved. You knew he always would. You pity him, really. 

     You were getting close to inserting your own two fingers into your warm and aching pussy at this thought when you decided to make his punishment an anti-punishment--reward him for holding off for a whole week with the promise of your sweet, sweet pussy on his tongue at the end of it. 

     As always, he’s only wearing a towel when he emerges from the steamy room. “Enjoy your shower this morning, baby?” You know the answer to this question, but he still stops dead in his tracks. “I at least hope you rinsed your cum off of the wall. That shit’s a bitch to clean once it’s dry.” 

     He turns slowly on one heel. “Do you think this is fun? Is this your sadistic way to prove to me that you’re the dominant one in this relationship? Daddy gets to touch himself any fucking time he wants to.” The switch had flipped. He tried to be submissive to the woman who makes his heart soar--to make her happy, to fulfill all of her desires--but he needed her too badly. He had to have his way, that’s just how it’s been the entirety of your sexual relationship. 

     You gulp, unsure of what to respond. You notice he’s begun to grow hard again, and finally admit that he’s too sure of himself to let you win this game. You both want it now, you’re both going to get it now. He turns to dig through his drawers, searching for an outfit for the day. “Let me help you, baby,” you speak, but it’s barely audible over his rummaging. You come off of the bed and pad closer to him until you’re standing behind him, kissing his back. “Come to the bed, please, baby.” He turns and looks at you, lust and exhaustion clouding his eyes. He bounds over to the mattress, deciding to stand instead of sit. “I know you're tired of my game. Truce?” 

     He nods quietly, and the silence is deafening. He’s not going to give you the satisfaction of winning, but he’ll take the loser's prize. Never breaking eye contact, you sink lower until you’re eye-level with his now fully hard cock. He watches in silent awe as you salivate when you finally drop the towel he’d loosely tied around his hips. His cock springs free, the tip red and needy despite his quick jerk in the shower only minutes before. You take it in your hand, its weight fits nicely in your hand, your favorite feeling. You look at him watching you as you lick a thick stripe up the underside of his cock, making it twitch on your tongue. You hum as you take him fully into your mouth, hollowing your cheeks as you take every inch of him. 

     He’s amazed. He loves that pretty mouth of yours, and fuck, does he love having his cock put in it. He gathers your hair into a loose ponytail, just enough for him to see the tears develop in the corners of your eyes. Your free hand fondles his balls, just the way he likes, causing his hips to snap, pushing his cock deeper into your throat. You pull off of it with a breath, a string of spit connecting your chin and his tip. With doe eyes you rasp, “fuck my face, you earned it.” He groans in delight, his cock twitching in your hand for the umpteenth time. He tightens his grip in your hair, causing your scalp to sting. 

     He puts the feelings of the past week into every thrust into your throat. He watches the tears fall from your cheeks, but the hum in the bottom of your throat tells him you’re enjoying this, too. His thrusts become sloppy, his moans growing louder. You feel his cock jerk on your tongue in the same instant that he’s pushing your head still on his cock. His load comes hot, thick, and with loud moans of praises and thanks. You stand, humming with pleasure as you wipe the last bit of his cum from your chin. He’s breathless, but the look on his face tells you he’s far from spent. 

     “Lay down. Strip. Spread,” he gruffs out. This is a new reaction that sends sparks through your body. You quickly oblige, excited for his repayment. As soon as he catches a glimpse of your glistening pussy, he’s holding down your hips in preparation for his assault. “So wet for me, baby. You haven’t touched yourself, not even once, this whole week? What a shame, such a pretty pussy,” he tuts, running a finger through your slick folds and taking your nipple between his teeth, sucking harshly. He lets go with a loud pop, but follows it with firm slaps to each sensitive breast, earning a whimper from your lips. “I bet you thought about this every day...having my cock so deep in you you can feel me in your stomach...crying out, begging me to let you sit on my face. Fuck me, baby, you’re gorgeous. So wet, so needy for me. Where’s that dominant spirit that was here last week? She saw Daddy’s hard cock and got greedy. Needed me to touch her and wouldn’t tell me. Pitiful.” You can only respond to his words with whimpers, a stark contrast from the filth that you spewed to get him riled up. 

     “Ash...please...I need it...need your tongue, your cock...please.” You’re writhing under him, just as he imagined. He only gives a smile before diving in between your thighs. He hums when your fingers pull immediately at his scalp as he begins to suck harshly on your clit. He alternates between this movement and licking wide strips up the length of your pussy. You’ve begun to squirm more than he likes, so he wraps both arms over your thighs to hold them in place. He darts his tongue into your hole before deciding quickly to assault your clit and leave the rest up to his expert fingers. He knows you always beg for more when he begins with one finger, so he thrusts three fingers into you from the get, curling them up to hit your g-spot with each thrust. He moves his fingers and tongue faster when he hears your whimpers of praise fall from your lips. He knows you’re close, you’re clenching on his fingers so hard that he can hardly move them. Fuck, he wishes that was his cock. He feels it tremble again, a painful reminder that his needs were far from met. Your quiet moans turn into screams as his quiet hums turn into vibrating groans against your throbbing clit.

      “Good girl...cum on my fingers for me...jus’ like that,” he coos as he feels your fingers dig into his scalp. He resumes his onslaught just in time for your first orgasm to hit. He licks your pussy clean, and by the time the stars have faded and the sounds of the room have floated back into your ears, he’s grabbing his long-forgotten towel to quickly wipe anything that his tongue couldn’t clean. 

     Without warning, his elbows are next to your ears as he pushes your thighs apart to settle between them. You can feel his needy cock brushing against your stomach. He swipes the head between your folds only once before bottoming out. You whine at the new sensation just as he lifts your leg over his shoulder, groaning at this new angle. 

     “Fuck, Ash...so fucking big...I’m so full,” is all you can repeat as his thrusts become heavier and longer. He pulls out almost completely just to slam himself back in several times, causing your head to spin. 

     “God, darlin’, you’re takin’ my cock so fucking well. Never gonna go without your pussy ever again. Never.” The fire returns in your belly as his thrusts are more sporadic and followed with loud groans and countless affirmations of praise. 

     “Ash, Ash...I’m close,” you breathily moan.

     “Me, too, baby. Want you cumming on my cock...so tight...made just for me.”

His words are what finally send you over the edge. The stars shine brighter this time, the ringing in your ears the loudest bell ever made. He follows not far behind, his cock releasing thick ropes of cum deep inside of you. As you both fall from your highs, he leaves soft kisses along your neck and collarbone, staying buried inside you for as long as he can stand it.

      You’re rubbing his scalp calmingly, breathing in his scent, a mix of citrus, musk, and Ashton. You break the comfortable silence with a chuckle and, “I don’t think I’ll be denying you anything for a very long time, Ashton.”

     He laughs at that, agreeing. “Same here. I love you too much to go without showing you my love. But if we decide to play this game again, let’s make the reward more clear, yeah? We both got our way this time, I don't think that’s how this was supposed to work.” He laughs quietly and rolls to your side, pulling you to him in an almost fluid motion. “That was fucking worth the wait, though.” He kisses your forehead before giving you a soft peck on the cheek. He lets out an “I love you,” thick with sleep. You hum in response. 

“I love you, too, especially when we both lose the same bet.” 

[northcarolinanative]

𝙲𝚘𝚕𝚕𝚒𝚜𝚒𝚘𝚗 (𝟿)

Chapter 9: Then It Won’t 

A/N: Hi. I am so sorry for the wait on this chapter. I was feeling a little stuck and Honestly overall uninspired and unmotivated. I needed a break from writing, I also don’t know how long to have this story going, but if you have any feedback PLEASE let me know, it would be greatly appreciated:) As always my asks, requests, messages are open so please talk to me:) 

Description: John B’s Sister comes home from staying with their mom, only to find out that her brother is missing and her dad was murdered. JJ may have just lost his best friend. She and JJ have to figure out what to do and how to pick up the pieces.

Need to catch up? Ch.1 / Ch.2 / Ch.3 / Ch.4 / Ch. 5 / Ch.6 / Ch. 7 / Ch. 8 

I was so confused. I didn’t know what had gotten into JJ. Why did he kiss me like that? Out of nowhere. I know that we were both happy and excited. Don’t get me wrong, I am not complaining, but it opens up too many doors. As much as I want to be with JJ, it puts a lot on the two of us. We both are dealing with a lot right now. What if that is why he kissed me? What if he was confusing one emotion for the other, and it wasn’t what he was wanting to do? My thoughts were everywhere as I stood still. JJ and I are still standing in front of the counter. JJ arms were wrapped around my shoulders, and mine around his waist. It was a hug that was full of emotion, what those emotions were, I am not sure, and I don’t think that he was either. 

After our breathing started to settle down, we didn’t talk much. More of a silent agreement between the two of us to go to bed. The air was thick, but not in the same way it had been. There was a tension between JJ and I. A tension that I didn’t want to be there, one that made me fall further into the already present feelings that were there. As I was changing in John B’s room, like every night, it was gloomy. The room held a weight that I still did not want to bear. Tonight though it was different, there was a glimmer of hope. I didn’t want to take over his room because he would be back. He would be back here as soon as JJ and I found a way to make it wherever that ship was going. 

JJ knocked on the door, pulling me from my thoughts as I finished pulling my shirt down over my body. “Yes?” 

JJ leaned in, then entered the room. There it was again, that sticky, emotional tension. JJ was only wearing a pair of worn, faded, khaki cargo shorts, hung loosely around his waist, his hair wet from the shower that he just took, and I couldn’t help but look at him. Once I realized what I was doing I felt a blush creep up my cheeks. “Hey, would it be weird if I, uh, borrowed a pair of JB’s pajama bottoms?” He said looking down. “I just realized I am out of clean ones and I don’t think you wanna sleep next to me in these smelly old clothes.” He laughed off the last part. I could tell he was unsure of my sleeping plans for the night, but I was glad that he still was okay with sharing a bed. 

“You’re right. I didn’t want to say anything but you were starting to smell” I let out a laugh, and JJ followed laughing as well. The mood was better, almost normal again. “You know where it’s at,” I said nodding toward the dresser on the far wall, then walking out into the living room. I began removing the couch cushions to pull out the bed again for the night. 

3:15 am 

I read the clock on the microwave again. Less than an hour ago I was begging for sleep, but now my nerves were on edge and I was full of adrenaline. I laid down staring at the dark wooden ceiling, only light coming from the moon and the crack in the door from John B’s room where JJ was changing. I was so stuck in my thoughts that I barely noticed the bed dip as JJ laid down beside me, his hands laced together behind his head as he looked up at the ceiling, now only illuminated by the bright moon outside the open window. The wind caused a cool draft sending a shiver down my spine. 

“I’m sorry” JJ finally broke the silence. I knew it was coming, I mean we couldn’t just ignore it. JJ’s nerves were just as high as mine were at this moment. I sat up turning to face JJ slightly, running my hand through my hair. 

“Don’t be sorry” I said letting out a breath I didn’t realize I had been holding. I felt JJ relax a little beside me. He closed his eyes and I heard him let out a deep breath. “Why’d you do it?” I asked. I wanted to know what he was thinking. 

“What?” JJ said. He sat up, turning to me. I could see the way his eyebrows were scrunched in confusion. 

“Why did you kiss me JJ?” I said in a long breath. I started talking, I didn’t know if I actually wanted the answer once I asked the question. “Because if it was just the adrenaline or the joy of our lead on John B, that’s totally fine. If it was just a way to distract us from the emotions we’re feeling then that's okay too because I know that we’ve been comforting each other like that because we don’t know what to say. I just want to --” 

“I did it because I like you Y/N, that’s it, that’s why” JJ cut me off. It felt like his words hung in the air. I didn’t know how to respond. “I mean I guess the adrenaline and everything helped me get the courage to do it. I mean look at what you did Y/N. You are like halfway to finding John B. You’re amazing.” I reached over and pulled him into a tight hug. 

“I like you too JJ,” I whispered into his shoulder before pulling away. The tension in the air is significantly less. Things were more clear, but still so much remained unsaid. JJ and I sat back, looking between each other, silence falling over us once again. Neither of us knows where to go from here. 

“What does this mean?” I said swallowing. “Does it change things?” Again, I didn’t want to know what the answer was. “I need you to get through this JJ. You saw how Kie and Pope reacted to what we’re doing here, looking for JB. You know what I’m going through better than anyone JJ.” I put my hand on his jaw looking him in the eyes. I could barely see the blue in them from the dimly lit atmosphere. I saw the way that the light hit his face illuminating the way his features softened into my touch. 

“Y/N, you’re smart and beautiful, and a literal genius. I don’t want this to change anything between us, but you know me. I speak my thoughts, and since you came back, and with John B being gone, I just, I guess I just started to see you as more than my best friend's sister.” I could see the thoughts turning in his head as he tried to figure out what to say. 

“And moving forward?” I asked. I felt the break in my voice. I’m sure JJ saw the tears that brimmed my eyes. 

“Nothing has to change.” He reached his hand up to cover mine that was still sitting on his cheek. “I don’t want it to change.” 

“Then it won’t” I felt a wave of exhaustion hit me. “Let’s get some sleep yea?” 

“Yea,” JJ said, he looked away from me and I felt my heart drop. I felt like I handled this wrong. JJ was feet from me, and I could feel the nerves vibrating off of him. He laid back down, the same way as before.I moved, up next to JJ, resting my head and my hand on his chest. I felt his arm fall, wrapping it around my torso. I started to trace little patterns into the hollow of his chest and he moved his fingers up and down my spine. Comforting each other, just like normal, like we said nothing changed, right? 

I looked up at JJ, only to meet his eyes already on me. I smiled softly as he drew me in. I kept looking between his eyes and his lips, softly illuminated in the moonlight. He bit his lip softly, a small smile forming across his face. He leaned his head down, slightly shifting his body lower. His other hand came to rest on my chin as he turned to face me. I closed my eyes feeling his face get closer to mine. His thumb running across my bottom lip and his lips barley ghosting over mine. I moved forward pressing our lips together. It was different from the one before, it was more meaningful. With everything out in the open now, the kiss was more real. I could feel the emotion behind both our lips at that moment. Things got heated quickly. Moving to press against each other, quickening the pace of our kiss, passion growing. Then I pulled away looking at JJ resting our foreheads together. 

“We really should sleep,” I said with a slight giggle. JJ just nodded and wrapped his arms around me pulling me close. 

“I know we said nothing would change, but I could get used to kissing you like that,” JJ said, pulling my closer to him and resting his head on mine. 

-- 

I woke up to the sound of rain beating down on the tin roof that covered the porch, JJ and I separated in our sleep, his arm now barely laying over my hip. I was careful not to wake him up as I got out of bed. I stood up stretching out from the confinement of the pullout bed. I looked over at JJ, his mouth slightly open and laid out on his back. One arm behind his head, the other across his body where it had rested on my hip, holding onto me. I smiled to myself, letting my hand reach up and touch my lips softly, remembering what had happened last night. I took my time in the shower, for once letting the warm water relax me rather than letting the pouring water blend with my tears like it had been the past few showers. 

I got dressed, before leaving a note for JJ. I didn’t want to wake him, both of us were struggling to sleep soundly, and he seemed at peace. I didn’t want to disturb that. 

“Went to find some work. We need money to stay afloat J. See you later? - Y/N” 

So with that I headed out to my car, toward Figure 8. Granted that was the last place that I wanted to be, but I know that is where I could find good work. Every summer I worked as a waitress at the club. I was hoping that since I was under my mother’s last name on all their paperwork, they wouldn’t recognize me as JB’s sister. The other pogues were worried about the cops and their help in John B’s escape. I knew that if my last name was “Routledge” that my chances of even getting on the Island were slim. The club was full of kooks, and kooks didn’t care where I came from or went to after work. All they cared about was that I showed up on time and did my job. And I did. 

I parked my car at the edge of the lot, away from the Range Rovers and Jeeps that littered the lot. Everything was shiny in Figure 8, it was clean and sparkly, it lacked character, much like the people did. I had called Mr. Jones before I left for the Island, telling him, like every summer, that I would be returning to the island once the ferry recovered from the storms. So he should be expecting me. I looked at the large double stained glass door, pushing them open to a grand room. I was not expecting the strong scent of sandalwood to overwhelm me as it did. 

I looked around at all the adults here, dressed in slacks and polos. This was their casual wear, which I could not imagine how uncomfortable it must have been. I walked through a back hallway to avoid any looks with other kooks, or anyone who might notice me before I secured my job. I went through the routine of getting the job with Mr. Jones, signing paperwork saying that if I get hurt it isn’t their fault, then he handed me my uniform. “Sit here and wait for me to finish scanning this stuff in, then I’ve got a few more things for you to sign.” He pointed to a bench in the main hallway before disappearing behind another large door. I sat tapping my foot. I played with a white string that was coming loose from my shorts. “Head down, don’t make a big deal” Is what one of the older waitresses had told me when I started working at the country club. She was also from the cut, she told me that it was the best way to deal with the teenager kooks who would pick fights with us while working. 

“Y/N” I heard someone call. The tone in their voice was cold. I looked up only to be met with who I wanted to see the least. My blood boiled at the sight of him, how was he free walking around. “Y/N Routledge” He spit, his tone venomous and dark. I stood up taking steps back and away from him. 

“Rafe Cameron” I breathed out barely audible.

-- 

Masterlist 

Taglist: @nikki082489 @lovelymaybankk @dolanfivsosxox @alexa-playafricabytoto @downbytheouterbanks @heyhargrove @heywards​ @kayln021 @readysteadygo23​ @im-a-stranger-thing​ @thatsonobx​ @dumbxgurl​ @ameeraaa21@zehnuhrfunf​ @imagines-and-preferences1216​ @mileven-reddie​ @sw-eat-ing​

If you wanna be added to a tag list please send me an ask, it makes it easier to keep up with:) if your user is crossed out it wouldn’t let me tag you?

[snarkwrites]

02 | gangsta, sweetpea; riverdale

Notes:

First of all, it hurts my heart. It physically PAINS ME... to write Reggie as the cocky fuckboy jerk he was in season 2. But, here we are. So.. there’s that. Secondly, this was not at all, in any stretch of my imagination... how I was intending this second part to go. If anything, I was going to hold off on actually writing this for at least two more parts. But again, here we are.

I just needed Alyssa to kind of... Show me more, so that kind of happens here... Anyway.. I honestly like how this turned out. Again, I preface with this.. I haven’t written much for Riverdale. I’m still figuring people and things out. So I’m sorry if it’s OOC or anything.

Summary:

Opposites attract.. But will the sparks create an inferno or will everything go up in flames?

Pairing:

Sweetpea x Andrews!OFC, Alyssa. (FYI, she was originally his fraternal twin but I’ve decided in my head that she’s a year younger than he is.))

Warnings:

Teen angst. Drama. Fights and other typical shenanigans. Fluff. Heavy sexual tension. I’d say slow burn too, so be warned. Eventual smut. Oh and a heavy caution because I’m only loosely following the series here. I’m picking and choosing things.

Other Parts:

[ one - soundtrack ]

Other Stuff:

[ faq - tag list doc ] 

Tagging:

@brithedemonspawn​ 

If anybody else wants to be tagged in this lemme know I guess? I’ll add you to my Riverdale tag list!

                                                 TWO.

I tensed as I walked past the section in the hallway where the few Ghoulies lockers happened to be. If people thought Serpents were scary, they obviously hadn’t ever encountered a Ghoulie before.

I’d almost made it past when one of them, a dark haired guy with these hollow eyes called out to me with a menacing laugh, “Hey honey? I gotta ask.. The carpet match the drapes?”

I clenched my fists. Took a deep breath and reminded myself that the Ghoulies were not a group of people I particularly wanted to be on the radar of. At all. I took another step or two. Picking up my pace. Trying to avoid any and all potential conflict because god knows, we’ve had more than enough of that since Riverdale and South Side merged into one school.

But he repeated himself.

I stopped and turned back to look at him.

To hide the fact that my hands were shaking, I placed one on my hip. Biting my lip as I took a breath or two just to keep from giving away the tangible fear I felt in the moment.

,, And naturally, Reggie is nowhere to be found. Because you’ve been avoiding him like a child since the argument. Of course this happens now...” the thought came but I shoved it right out of my head. For one thing, since when did I need Reggie, or anyone for that matter, rushing in to protect me from the big scary gangsters? Just the realization that I’d actually become one of the girls I used to roll my eyes at when I lived in Chicago with mom had me disgusted with myself.

And like that, the Andrews temper rose to the surface before I could stop it.

“Was a simple question, honey? You slow?” the Ghoulie stepped out into the middle of the hallway. Not too close to me, but still too close for my personal comfort. I gulped. Stepped back to put more distance between the two of us.

“ Are you slow, asshole?” I asked quietly. Wanting to pat myself on the back for how calmly I kept my tone.

He chuckled and shook his head, stepping closer all over again. Eyeing me up and down as if I were a piece of meat and he was hungry. Licking his lip and somehow making the gesture seem so lewd I had to fight back the bile as it rose in my throat.

“What the fuck did you just say to me, cherry?”

“I asked if you’re slow. You’re the one out here repeating asinine questions. My lack of a response should’ve been your first clue I wasn’t going to answer.” I shrugged. The shake in my hands doubled. My voice wavered just slightly at the end of my comment and I prayed to hell that this giant fuckhead couldn’t smell fear because if he could, I was royally screwed.

,, you should have just kept walking but nooooo. Now look where  your temper’s gotten you.” the thought came just as the guy stepped closer. Glaring down at me.

“Ya know you’re lucky I like ‘em cute and feisty. Mantle’s little piece of ass, right?” he sneered as he mentioned Reggie.

“I don’t belong to anybody, you bag of dicks.” I stated. Starting to get more irritated. Starting to get entirely too big for my britches.

“Is that so?” he snarled, looking me up and down. Making me cringe in disgust as he did so because somehow, the way he was looking at me made me feel just so… Dirty.

“If you get any closer I’m going to punch you in the cock.” my jaw clenched and I muttered the words, lowering my hand. Gazing up at him with what I hoped was the calmest ‘don’t fuck with me’ look I could muster.

“Easy cherry.” ,,What the hell is Sweetpea doing here?” the thought came and I almost asked him that question but before I could say anything more, I was being pulled out of the way and further down the hall by Sweetpea. Left to stand there and puzzle out exactly why he chose to intervene as he stormed back down the hall and practically threw the dark haired Ghoulie up against the locker, a thick forearm right across the Ghoulies throat.

Snarling something at him that I couldn’t hear from where I stood. I took a few shaky breaths and watched the confrontation with concern. Tension filling my body as I hugged my notebooks against me. More than once I started to walk down.

Try to stop things before they turned into an actual shit show. It was the second time I was about to that Toni Topaz, one of the only two people I’d ever seen Sweetpea speak to, cleared her throat from beside me and stretched out an arm.

“Oh no you don’t, Ariel. What you’re going to do is stand right here. Like a good little Vixen. We clear?”

I eyed her, not entirely sure whether she was insulting me or genuinely trying to keep me out of harms way. The soft laugh and little smile she gave me, calm but firm as she nodded her head and spoke again. “Say you agree. Because trust me… You don’t want in the middle of this.”

“But..” I protested, going quiet. Giving up on trying to make sense of any of this. My eyes scanning the hall for Reggie, for my brother, for anybody familiar. Anybody I deemed just a little safer.

I spotted Jughead sprinting towards the ongoing altercation, pulling the two apart, shoving at Sweetpea as the two of them proceeded to have words and Jughead got Sweetpea away from the Ghoulie.

“Thank god.” I let out a breath I didn’t even realize I’d been holding. Relaxed a little bit. From beside me, Toni spoke up again.

“Ya know.. It really says a lot about your so called boyfriend that the entire time you were just about to dive right in over your head that he was down by Mandy’s locker, flirting as if you weren’t even an issue.”

I winced at her words. Sighed and shrugged. “We’re not exactly on speaking terms right now.”

“I kind of figured. Pretty sure the entire school heard you two fighting in the hallway after Biology.” Toni mused, studying me intently. 

I shook my head, shrugging again. Wincing because they probably had. I’d had to hear about it from pretty much every single person in my third period class. Constantly getting reminded how Reggie was ‘like.. The hottest guy in school’ and I was ‘lucky he noticed me to begin with…’

,, oddly enough, not feeling so lucky right now.” the thought came and despite trying to ignore it, I couldn’t shake it this time. 

Toni eyed me in concern. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine. It’s just been a long and crappy day. I’m half tempted to ditch.” I admitted. At the suggestion, she gave a smirk. Grabbing hold of my arm and practically dragging me towards the double doors that lead out into the parking lot.

“Where on earth are we going?” I asked in a laugh. The first laugh I’d actually had all day.

“We’re ditching, duh. C’mon. We’ll go down to the quarry. Or go play Mortal Kombat at the Wyrm. Unless you’re scared…” Toni stopped to gaze at me, a challenging smirk as she tapped her foot.

The guy I always saw her with around campus caught up to us. “You ditchin without me, Topaz? What the hell?”

“Cherry here needs a break.” Toni answered. At this point, I didn’t even bother trying to correct her about the name. It wouldn’t do any good. It hadn’t in the entire two weeks I’d spent as Sweetpea’s partner in Biology. Somehow I got the distinct impression that this was my nickname now and it was going to stick. No matter what I did.

I eyed Toni, not quite sure what was going on. Why was she being nice to me at all when everyone I knew were so quick to be mean and angry that they had to share a school with what my so called friends referred to as ‘trash’ or in Cheryl’s case, ‘total degenerates.’.. I found myself wondering why she’d bother giving me a chance at all. If I were in her position.. I pushed the thought out of my head. Because I had been in her position. I could’ve spoken up. I could’ve been nasty about Sweetpea being paired with me in class. I could’ve been a bully like pretty much everyone else around me was but I’d mostly just kept to myself.

It was mostly out of self preservation, but also, because if anyone from Riverdale had known me when I lived in Chicago at the start of the year, they’d quickly realize I was… Not the girl I seem to be here. That I was probably closer to a Serpent than I was a true Northsider. 

Here I’m just trying to keep my head down and stay out of trouble. Trying to make life easier on my father while he’s healing from nearly dying earlier in the year. Trying to keep my brother and my father from making a big mistake and drifting apart all because my brother’s gotten too full of himself lately and he’s letting Hiram Lodge and all the ‘gifts’ the man seems willing to dispense go straight to his head. Mostly because I promised my mother when she sent me here to live with Dad and Archie that I was absolutely not going to get into any more trouble than I’d gotten into while living with her. That I was going to turn over a new leaf. Because according to her, I was ‘starting to scare the shit out of her’ with some of the things I’d managed to get myself caught right in the middle of.

Deep down I knew I stood out amongst my so called ‘friends’ like a sore thumb. I was only on the Vixens because I happened to be a gymnast and danced since I could walk. I was only with Reggie because he thought I was hot and I was dumb enough to fall for his pretty face, fast car and smooth talk. I knew I was an imposter. I was miserable too, because while I was finally able to enjoy living with my dad and my brother and make up for lost time with them I wasn’t able to breathe or relax and be myself without worrying if someone was going to see right through me.

It was pathetic if I really stopped to think about it.

I think Fangs was more than a little puzzled too because he went to say something but Toni elbowed him in the side and shot him a silencing glare before fixing her gaze on me all over again.

“I said, we’re skipping.. Unless Cherry here is too chicken.”

“You realize she’s a North Sider..” Fangs pointed out. Ignoring Toni’s glare this time and eyeing me warily. I squared my shoulders, gazing up at him defiantly.

“You realize that I’m standing right here.” I piped up, giving Fangs Fogarty a pout and glaring. I took a deep breath and glanced over my shoulder at Riverdale High.

I just wanted one afternoon to breathe.

One afternoon wouldn’t hurt…

I smirked as my eyes met Toni’s. “Okay. Alright. I’m in.”

“I knew it! Something told me you weren’t just another mindless cheer zombie.” Toni remarked. At this rate, I didn’t dare question or ask what she meant by it. Something in my gut told me to just roll with whatever was happening.

Right up until the point Sweetpea caught up to the three of us. Glaring at me. With a bruise forming on his jaw and an angry gleam in his eyes. “What the hell is she doing tagging along?”

“She’s coming with, Pea.” Toni stated firmly. Sweetpea snickered. “Yeah, no. Not happening.”

“She’s coming.” Toni argued, tapping her foot against the pavement, folding her arms over her chest. “The more we argue this, the more we stand the chance of being caught.”

Sweetpea grumbled and glared at me. “Fine. But I don’t want to hear a fucking word when we’re all sitting in detention because Cherry here gets a guilty conscience and runs to snitch.”

“Asshole.” I snapped at him.

“Princess.” he snapped right back.

“ Have you ever been swimming at the quarry?” Toni asked as we all made a break for the treeline. The school was getting further behind us and the further it got, the more free I felt.

“ A time or two.” I answered. “Usually at night though.”

This got me a look from all three of them.

“At night?”

“Yeah. What? Like you guys aren’t out till all hours doing whatever… I just wanted to go swim and look at the stars…” I trailed off.

“You realize there’s a serial killer going around offing people right now, right?” Sweetpea was gazing at me as if I’d lost my mind. So were Fangs and Toni.

“Yeah. I know. Trust me, I know. Kind of why I had a knife with me.” I shrugged as I spotted a path I used when I ditched during my first week of school at Riverdale High. I started towards it.

“The path is over here, Cherry.” Sweetpea called out in annoyance. Grumbling to himself about how bringing me along was a bad idea.

“That path maybe. This one is faster. Comes out right on the bank.” I stopped and turned back to look at the three of them. Tapping my foot impatiently.

“You can trust me.” I stated calmly. “I found this path my first week here. I ditched during History.”

“Color me shocked.” Fangs eyed me in amusement. Toni gave a soft laugh as she caught up to me.

“Are you sure coming with you guys was a good idea?” I asked her while the guys were out of earshot. I didn’t want to cause problems between her and her friends. Or make the afternoon tense.

“I get sick of being the only girl. I don’t care if it was or not. They can learn to love it.” Toni flashed me a grin as we pushed through thick shrubs and found ourselves standing on the creekbank.

I eyed the water. “Well, it’s either stand here or swim. C’mon.” I called out to Toni as I stepped to the water’s edge and turned back to smirk at her. Turning her own earlier words around. “I mean.. Unless you’re a chicken, Toni.”

“I know you did not just..” Toni laughed as we dove in. Sweetpea and Fangs stepped onto the bank swearing up a storm and glaring and as they stepped closer to the water, Toni and I swam over and sent up the biggest splash we could manage.

Neither of them were amused.

By the time we were finished swimming, the sun was starting to go down. I happened to remember I was supposed to be at cheerleading practice. And then the thought occurred to me that I honestly just wasn’t feeling it today. If I went to practice I’d have to deal with Reggie. And I just wasn’t in the mood to talk to him yet.

I was still upset about our fight in the hallway that morning. I was starting to really step back and think long and hard about just how one-sided everything actually was between Reggie and I.

“Hey, won’t the Vixens have a meltdown if you miss practice, Cherry?”

It was Sweetpea’s not so subtle way of telling me to leave. I wasn’t stupid, I could see it from the look in his eyes.

Toni glared at him and Sweetpea shrugged, sitting up. Wrapping his arms around his knees as he stared out at the water. “She’s only here because she’s bored anyway.” he muttered, making me growl to myself quietly.

I started to stand and make my exit, but Toni shook her head. “C’mon. Live a little.”

I eyed the opening in the treeline and her and flopped back against the sandy bank. “Honestly, I don’t even care at this point. I’d really rather not see Reggie or deal with anybody’s crap. Screw it. I’ve already avoided it all this long...”

I sat up after a second or two, staring out at the water. I’d have to go home soon and honestly, I didn’t want to do that either, because I knew that if Archie and dad weren’t fighting, they’d be giving each other the silent treatment.

And the tension between my dad and my brother was starting to drive me crazy.

Just as the sun completely vanished, we stepped out of the trees and into Pickens Park. Just between the North and the South side.

“I should get going. My dad’s got enough to worry about with Archie and his growing ego lately. I’ll see you guys around, okay?” 

“Hey,Cherry?” Toni called out just as I turned to start walking towards my father’s house. I stopped and turned back, smiling, “Yeah?”

“Maybe for a Northsider you’re not the worst.” Toni gave a teasing grin as she added, “See you around.”

“Maybe for a Serpent you’re not completely scary.” I smiled back at her before turning to hurry towards my father’s house just as I spotted the patrol car turning in at the top of our street.

Probably out looking for people violating the city wide curfew. I definitely didn’t want to be caught doing that.

Just as I stepped through the front door, Archie spoke up.

“Reggie couldn’t find you after practice. And I didn’t see you after third period. Where did you go, Alyssa?”

“ I left. I got tired of the bullshit, Archie.”

“Yeah, I told him to let you cool down. I also talked to him about the way he’s been treating you.”

“Archie, what the entire fuck, why would you do that?” I groaned, raising my hand to my forehead.

“Because you’re my sister and I know when you’re hurt. And I don’t like it when you’re hurt. I’m supposed to protect you, pixie.”

“Archie, I clearly handled the situation.”

“ I know, but I wanted to remind him what would happen if he hurt you.”

I grumbled and took a deep breath, pinching the bridge of my nose. After a second or two, I hugged my brother, raising to tiptoe to fluff his hair a little. “How’s dad tonight?”

“He’s at the construction site. He had to go in and meet with someone, I think.”

I started to head up to my room and Archie called out to me, making me laugh. “ I know you skipped today. My lips are sealed.”

“Thank you.” I smiled before turning and disappearing up the stairs, stepping into my room and flopping across my bed.

I plugged in my phone to charge and once it had charged, it started to blow up with notifications.

At least half of them were worried texts and voicemails from Reggie. I braced myself and hit call.

XXX

The phone rang and Reggie’s arm shot out, fumbling around on the nightstand blindly. Once he had it in his hand, he answered sleepily.

“Hello?”

“Hey.”

“Thank fucking god. You scared the hell out of me, princess. Where were you?” Reggie’s words tumbled out practically on top of each other. he took a deep breath or two and muttered quietly, “Thank god you’re okay. You can’t pull shit like this. There’s a serial killer...” Reggie went quiet.

“I needed some space. I left after second period.”

“Archie told me you were pretty upset. Listen.. I’m..” Reggie trailed off as she sighed and muttered, “Yeah. I know, you’re sorry. I’m sorry too.”

“I was just trying to tell you that the Serpents are dangerous, okay? Because I saw Sweetpea flirting with you during Biology and guys like that only want one thing, princess. And he’d say anything to get it too.”

He frowned when Alyssa grumbled and then spoke up. Shutting down the conversation. She seemed distant. Quieter tonight. It wasn’t like after any of their arguments were they made up, talked things out and she was back to being bubbly and happy.

It had him concerned.

It had him more than a little irritated at Sweetpea for all the flirting he’d done earlier. Worried that something the guy said or did might have gotten her attention. He didn’t like the thought of it at all.

,, you only want her because she’s new territory, man. Don’t go catching feelings like some weak little bitch.” his mind taunted, but the sad part of it all was that he was starting to realize that it was too late for that. He’d caught feelings months ago.

And now, thanks to bullshit and a fucking Serpent, he might be about to lose her… ,, and the bet, man.. Remember the bet? If you lose, you’re going to look like a little bitch.”

But the bet didn’t even matter anymore. He just didn’t want to lose her.

“Alyssa.. I really mean it. I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay, Reggie. Listen… It’s getting late. I’m going to sleep. I’ll see you tomorrow, alright?”

Before he could say anything else, he got the  dial tone. Swearing, he lightly slammed his fist down on his nightstand and took a few shaky breaths.

He wanted to kick himself. If he’d known any of this was coming, he would’ve spoken up back when the teacher gave them their Biology partners.

,, yeah but you didn’t and now it might be a little too late… No. No it’s not. Not if I can help it...”

[platoniclokiimagines]

Hi! Can I get one where reader thought Loki died (following IW plot) and like totally devastated, couldn’t eat, couldn’t sleep. But he comes back and the reader just follow him everywhere because she’s afraid she’s gonna lose him again? Thank you ☺️ (it’s what I need since I still am broken and can’t get over IW)

This got so out of hand so quickly, but I hope you enjoy it all the same!

You had known Loki was up to something when they had sentyou and as many of the other Asgardians as they could to get on a ship with theValkyrie soldier. You just hadn’t known what exactly it was that they weregoing to go do, and when you turned around from the safety of the ship to askthem, they had disappeared from sight, and before you could chase after them,you were being pushed further into the ship by the crowd of uneasy Asgardians, andsoon after, the question disappeared from your mind entirely as you tried tosoothe a couple of children who’d been separated from their mother in all ofthe disarray. You reasoned you didn’t really have anything to be that concernedabout.

While the attack on the Statesman had been completelyunforeseen, and was causing worse and worse damage by the minute, you had faithin the abilities of Loki, Thor, and the green giant they were friends with, andknew that getting off of the ship was just a precaution, to make sure no one gotcaught in the crossfire between everyone. You figured you’d give it a goodhour, and everyone would be back together and making repairs on the ship beforecontinuing on to Midgard.

You couldn’t have been more wrong.

You’d spent most of a week completely in the dark of thewhereabouts of Thor, Loki, and the rest of the Asgardians, in which time theship had landed at its destination in the kingdom called Tønsbergon Midgard, and everyone had tried to keep calm while missing half of theirfriends and relatives.

And then the Fading happened.

You’d thought maybe you were just stressed and hallucinating whenyou’d seen the person across from you fade into a cloud of dust, and you’drubbed at your eyes and blinked a few times to make sure it wasn’t some weirdtrick of the Midgardian light, and that was when you’d heard the screaming. You’dlooked up to see the same thing happening to people all across the nearbyvicinity. People just disappearing right into thin air, and leaving nothingbehind but a small pile of dust. It was unsettling, and scary, and left with no explanation, you’d been left clinging tothe hope that things were going to take a turn for the better.

And then Thor had shown up, suddenly bearing two eyes and a newweapon again, and looking more defeated than you’d ever seen him look before.It hadn’t taken much for you to put two and two together when you’d realized hewas alone, but even still, you clung to what small hope you had in your heartas you approached him to ask about Loki.

You’d not even been able to listen to Thor tell the whole story.As soon as it had become clear that Loki was gone, you’d bolted, unable tohandle the reality of the situation. You’d just lost your best friend, the only friend you’d ever had, and you’dhad no idea how you were going to cope with that.

The days had turned into weeks, andthe weeks into month as you’d tried, and failed, to settle into a new normal.You’d spent many days without eating so much as a bite of food, and many nightswithout even a second of sleep. You’d made yourself absolutely sick in yourgrief, and despite the many who tried to help you, you’d never gotten over thefeeling of losing Loki.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~Six Months Later~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

As you stepped out of the house,bundled up in your cozy wool sweater, you heaved a sigh. Today was six monthsto the day since the Statesman had been attacked. Six months since everythinghad changed. Six months since Loki had…

You still couldn’t think about it. Itwas a wound that was nowhere close to beginning to heal, and it still burnedjust as much as it had the first day. Desperate to try and take your mind offof your emotions, you made your way down to the edge of the water, picking stonesup and throwing them, watching them splash as they hit the water and sankbeneath the surface. Anything to drown out the sound of your thoughts.

“…Y/N?”

You froze, hand halfway lifted tothrow another stone into the water, too scared to turn around, but you did itanyway, and as you did, the pile of rocks in your hand fell to the ground asyour hands shook.

“…..Loki?”

Loki nodded, and in the brief secondbefore you did anything else, you took in the sight of them. Their torn andtattered clothes, the bruises around their neck, the way their eyes looked sohollow and tired and dull. And thenthe next thing you knew, you were running, stumbling up the steep hill to getto them, and crashing into their arms as soon as they were close enough.

You stood there for a long while, justsobbing and clinging to Loki, making sure that your friend was real and backand alive. And for as tightly as youheld them, Loki held on to you with the same desperate need for affection andcomfort, and you were more than happy to give it to them.

After what felt like hours and justminutes all at once, you pulled back, just looking up at them with tear-filledeyes as you studied them.

“…you look like you’ve seen betterdays.”

Loki only huffed out a hoarse laugh,and nodded, and despite how unsettling it was for Loki to not have a snarkyretort, you were just glad to havethem back.

“Let’s get you to Thor.”

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

You refused to leave Loki’s side foranything. You stood on the sidelines as Thor greeted his brother and crushedhim in a hug, and waited patiently outside the door while the doctors checkedLoki over and got them bandaged up, and in some sort of contraption that seemedto keep their head upright which you were almost certain would be somewhatcomical in any other circumstance. You walked with Loki to the little house youhad, where you’d childishly left a bedroom open, just in case, you’d told yourself. You followed after them as theywalked around the house, inspecting it tiredly, but with a little bit of thatspark in their eye that could only be described as Loki. You sat at the kitchen table as they ate for likely the firsttime in a very long while. Anything they did all day, you either followed rightbehind them, or checked on them every five minutes, just to make sure.

Loki seemed to pick up on this, aftera while, and once the sun began to set, they turned toward you.

“I’m not going anywhere, Y/N. You knowthat. Right?”

You averted your gaze a little,shifting a little anxiously. “…can you blame me?”

Loki huffed out a quiet laugh thatsounded the most Loki than anything else they’d said or done all day. “Isuppose not.”

You nodded quietly, and turned yourgaze to look out of the window, watching the shadows growing the larger as thesun got lower.

“…would you feel better if we bothslept in the same room tonight?”

You nodded immediately. “You can haveyour space. I’ll sleep in an armchair or something. I just… I want to be there,in case… If you need anything.”

Loki nodded, and you gave them theprivacy to get ready for the night while you made up their bed and goteverything all settled for them. You curled up in the armchair as they got allsettled, and you supposed you must have been staring a little too hard, because a few moments later,Loki spoke quietly.

“Y/N, come here.”

You did as told immediately, sittingon the edge of the bed as you looked at them, and before you could even sayanything, Loki took your hand, pressing it over their chest.

“You feel that?”

You nodded slowly, not entirely surewhat Loki was getting at.

“I’m not going anywhere. I promise.”

You swallowed hard, and nodded. “…okay.Thank you.” You weren’t sure what else to say, so you just left it at that, butthat seemed to be enough for Loki.

“Lay down. You don’t have to sleep inthe chair. I’ll be fine, just be careful if you cuddle.”

You nodded, and curled up under thecovers, just watching Loki as they closed their eyes and settled down onceagain.

“…I can feel you staring, you know.”

You winced, caught once again. “Sorry.”

“It’s okay. You can go to sleep. I’llbe right here when you wake up, alright?”

“….you promise?”

“I promise,Y/N.”

[emachinescat]

By Night My Mind

A Tales of Arcadia: Wizards Fan-Fiction

by @emachinescat ​

@febuwhump​ day 19 - sleep deprivation 

Summary: Sequel to “Dying Is Easy.”  In the aftermath of the final battle against the Arcane Order, Douxie is plagued by guilt and nightmares about his part in Merlin’s death, and decides that he’s better off staying awake, which his battered and weary body does not take well.  Written for Febuwhump on Tumblr. Day 19: sleep deprivation

Characters: Douxie, Archie, Jim, Claire

Words: 4,719

TW: None

Notes: Sequel to “Dying Is Easy, Living (Without You) Is Harder,” and set in the same universe as “That I Could Fear a Door” and “Lest Back that Awful Door Should Spring.”  In this version of events, Douxie doesn’t have to leave with Nari, and is trying to adjust back to life in Arcadia after the events of “Dying Is Easy.”

Keep reading here, or on AO3!

If you enjoy, please consider liking, commenting, or re-blogging, and you can follow me for more content like this! :)

- From “Sonnet 27” by William Shakespeare

Weary with toil, I haste me to my bed,

The dear repose for limbs with travel tired;

But then begins a journey in my head

To work my mind, when body’s work’s expired…

Lo! thus, by day my limbs, by night my mind,

For thee, and for myself, no quiet find.

The night after his battle with the Arcane Order, Douxie slept more soundly than he could ever remember.  His near-death experience had left him with a litany of aches, pains, cuts, bruises, a couple of fractured ribs and a lot of unanswered questions - it should have been impossible for him to survive a fall from that height; every bone in his body should have been broken, and no one knew how he was still alive - but still he slept, his final meeting with Merlin and the restored Morgana fresh on his mind and a soothing balm through the night.

The trouble came the day after, when he nodded off while curled up on his couch with The Sword in the Stone distracting him from some unpleasant thoughts and a nagging guilt that had begun to crop up, slowly but steadily, over the course of his day.  No one knew that the hokey, mostly plotless Disney movie was his favorite, and he preferred to keep it that way.  It had always amused him, Merlin as a bit of a crackpot and Arthur a poor young boy running around after a magical master who only halfway knew what he was doing at any given time - it reminded him of himself, and of home.

But he was exhausted from the muscle relaxer he’d been prescribed when Jim and Claire had practically kidnapped him and forced him to let Jim’s mom, a doctor, examine him, and he fell asleep right when Mad Madam Mim issued her challenge to Merlin and for a few wonderful moments, there was nothing, and he could rest.

He woke with a yell only minutes later (Merlin was now turning into a germ to outwit the atrocious purple dragon), fighting desperately against the effects of the muscle relaxers that were already trying to pull him under again.  He couldn’t even remember what it was that woke him, what he’d seen in his dreams, but it didn’t matter.  Whatever it was - and he had a good idea - it left him trembling, short of breath, on the verge of tears.

“Douxie?”

Archie padded into the room and hopped up on the couch beside his friend, eyes full of concern behind his glasses.

“I’m fine, Archie.  Just a nightmare.”

“I miss him, too,” the cat said solemnly, reflective gaze compassionate and sad as he observed his human friend.  “Perhaps we should talk--”

“Talking won’t bring him back,” Douxie snapped, and Archie flinched back the tiniest amount and fell silent, looking more like a chastised pet than Douxie had ever seen him.  The wizard sighed.  “I’m sorry, Archie.  I just don’t want to talk, that's all.”  He rubbed the furry head with distracted affection, then moved from the couch and pulled up a hard-backed kitchen chair, and sat in that.  

He didn’t feel like sleeping so much anymore, even if the burning of his eyes told him otherwise.  He turned off the movie - it suddenly held no appeal.  The Disney+ main screen took its place, and he clicked on something at random.  He was so caught up in his bleak mood and dark thoughts that he didn’t even realize for a solid ten minutes that he was watching Hannah Montana. 

***

Dr. Lake called him at five and asked how the muscle relaxers were treating him - “Are they keeping the pain and back spasms at bay? Are you taking them with food? Have you been able to rest?” Douxie placated her with lies on all accounts, but the truth was that he was sore even with the medicine, he hadn't taken it with food because he couldn't bring himself to eat, and every time he closed his eyes he felt the unfathomable pain of being run through all over again, or, worse, he saw Merlin kneeling over him, sacrificing his life for Douxie’s stupid mistake, and that wasn’t worth any benefits rest gave him.

***

He did finally fall asleep that night around eleven, not by choice - he’d been forced to take another muscle relaxer when the pain in his ribs and back crescendoed to nearly unbearable levels, and the drug worked quickly despite his best efforts to stay awake.

The dream was, at the beginning, not good, but not nightmare material, either.  He found he was reliving his final conversation with Merlin, in that Nowhere between life and death where his mentor had waited patiently for him to arrive before moving on at last, after 900 long years.  

At first the conversation was much the same as it had been, and Douxie found a thread of comfort in Merlin’s reassurances - I told you, my boy, I chose to die for you.  I want no part of a world without you in it.  And I am happy, reunited with my dear friend and first apprentice, ready to step into the next chapter.  

But this time, right before Merlin stepped through the door into the light, he turned and contemplated his grieving apprentice with a cold look.  “Although,” he said, accusation seeping from every word, “it is true that I wouldn’t have had to give my life for you if you hadn’t bungled things up so much in the first place.”

Douxie felt his heart stutter to a stop and he stammered, “W-what?”

“Couldn’t leave well enough alone, could you?” Merlin hissed, his eyes flashing dangerously.  “It was my fight.  And if you were going to interfere, why not cast some other spell that kept us both out of harm’s way?”

Floundering for any purchase on solid ground, Douxie finally managed, “I didn’t know how - the magic, it just responded -”

“You were always good at making excuses, Hisirdoux,” the wizard snarled.  “The faith I thought I had in your abilities was obviously misplaced.”  A terrible, eternal beat of silence.  Then - “Perhaps I should have let you die after all.  It’s no more than you deserve.”

“But Master -”

“I’m done with you.”  With a dismissive wave of his arm, Merlin stomped into the waiting light of the unknown, muttering, “Might as well enjoy your life since you ended mine to save it.”

And Douxie was left alone in the between-space, and the tower crumbled around him in time with his soul, and he let it bury him, book after book crashing on his head, and he hoped that this time, he wouldn’t wake up at all….

It’s all my fault.

He woke up crying, not screaming, and shortly after he flushed the muscle relaxers while Archie wasn’t looking (the wise familiar would most certainly have not approved), splashed his face with icy water, and grabbed his well-read copy of The Catcher in the Rye and forced his eyes across the familiar words in a vain attempt to distract him from the loathing and pain and guilt that screamed through his aching head and pounded out a tattoo of shame that persisted through the lonely, sleepless night.

***

Two days later, he returned to work, and his manager stared openly at his disheveled appearance.  Douxie had slept a grand total of four hours since he’d tossed the pills, and those had been intermittent catnaps that his body had forced him to take.  Eventually, though the thought of using his magic made his skin crawl now after what it had done to Merlin, he conjured a simple alarm clock that sensed when he fell asleep and screeched metal core at him every time it happened.

He knew he looked bad - he’d seen a glimpse of himself in the mirror before he left.  His face was thinner than usual, pinched in pain that tylenol just wasn’t cutting through - but anything else would make him fall asleep.  Although all of the bruising was centralized around his back and chest and invisible beneath his rumpled t-shirt, it looked like he’d been punched in both eyes, with the dark, puffy circles accenting each one.  He’d been too out of it to properly bother with styling his hair, or brushing it, if he were honest, and he was pretty sure he was wearing two different combat boots.  They were both black, though, so maybe no one would notice.  He didn’t have the energy to care if they did.

“Damn,” said his manager, Jeff.  “I think you came back from sick leave a little too soon, man.  You look awful.”

Douxie shrugged, not trusting himself to speak.  He’d been screaming from one emotion to the next with no warning ever since he woke up, and even though he felt rather empty at the moment, he knew it was distinctly possible that if he opened his mouth he might start crying against his will.

“I think you should go back home.  Have you seen a doctor?”

Douxie grunted in affirmation.  

“Go home until you’re feeling better, Douxie.  Seriously, man, you have to take care of yourself.”

The hollowness inside of him filled with irritation at the dismissal.  “I’m fine,” he growled sullenly.  

His manager blinked, surprised at the tone.  Douxie had always been a model employee, respectful and fun to be around.  

“You’re going to scare customers away,” Jeff insisted.  “You can’t wait tables like this - people will be afraid you’ll give them whatever plague you’ve come down with.”

With a snarl, Douxie spat, “Why can’t things just go back to normal?”  He stormed out before his bewildered manager could answer.

***

The next afternoon, someone knocked at his door.  He cast a suspicious side-eye at Archie, who sat innocently on the table, tail tucked contritely around his carefully arranged paws as he studied Merlin’s magic book, the one Douxie had refused to touch since returning home.  Archie had disappeared for a short time earlier, flapping out of the window in dragon form and saying that he was just going for a short flight to clear his head.  Now Douxie wondered if the dragon had actually gone out and told someone of his worries about his wizard familiar.  After all, Archie had been on his case constantly over the past few days, practically begging his friend to sleep, to eat, to talk, and Douxie always ignored him and had even yelled at him on a couple of occasions.  

Douxie was picking at a bowl of dragon-popped popcorn listlessly, the small desire for food that he’d felt earlier having been immediately usurped by a fresh waves of undulating guilt and devastating emptiness.  A smattering of empty cans - soda and energy drinks - lay crumpled on the coffee table around Archie, and the dregs of his latest cup of coffee were still warm.  He seriously considered just ignoring the knocking until whoever it was went away - they’d promised to give him some time to recover, after all - but then they started ringing the doorbell and his head already hurt so badly it made his stomach curdle, so he made the tremendous journey to his feet.  He swayed, his limbs like pool noodles, head swimming with dizziness at the effort to stay upright.

Each step toward the door - that incessant, too-loud doorbell was going to drive him mad! - was a hard-fought battle, and by the time his hand reached for the doorknob, he felt like he was going to be sick, and his vision was blurred, and he was having trouble remembering why he had gotten up in the first place.

Then the doorbell rang again, and a muffled voice called his name from the other side of the door, and he remembered.

It was Claire and Jim.  The moment they laid eyes on him, their expressions went from concerned to relieved to something Douxie couldn’t quite identify but that might have been a kind of shock, or even horror.

“Douxie!” Claire half-shouted, and Douxie fought the urge to cover his ears as her voice, normally pleasant and soothing, tried its hardest to split his head in two.  “What happened?”

Douxie squinted at her in confusion.  Shouldn’t she know what happened?  She had been there, for parts of it, at least.  She’d heard about the rest.  He could barely stand up straight anymore, and his eyes started closing of their own accord.  This had happened so many times before, but as soon as sleep started to stake its claim, the memories and nightmares and things that might have been memories followed, mixing up into a blur that he couldn’t navigate, and then his magic alarm clock would blare, and he would wake up, and drink another Mountain Dew or Monster or cup of coffee, and try to do something to take his mind off of sleep and pain and Merlin.  Then the whole process would start over again.

This time, it didn’t look like he would make it back to the couch before he passed out - the arduous trek to the front door had drained him, made him breathless and dizzy - and he was toppling forward, trying to force himself to wake up, battling sleep and the panic of sleep, or worse, hitting his head and being knocked out and forced to sleep.

“Whoa!”  He startled awake to a hazy reality as Jim caught his stumbling form and propped him up the best that he could given how much taller Douxie was than him.  Distantly, Douxie heard, “Claire, help me get him inside.”

And then Claire slung his other arm over her shoulder and they half-supported, half-dragged him back into his house, and though his eyes were on his couch, he realized that they were taking him past it, further into the house, in the direction of his bedroom, and he began to struggle against them.

“No, not there,” he gasped, knowing that if he had a mattress under his body and a soft pillow under his bed, there would be no way he could resist the siren call of sleep.  He’d been avoiding his bed for days now.

But they didn’t listen, and soon they helped ease him onto his bed, perpetually unmade, and he scrambled up clumsily into a facsimile of a sitting position and shook his head to clear it of the gummy cobwebs that infested it.  Archie, having followed the trio closely, literally hovering right over their shoulders, perched on Douxie’s desk and kept his lamp-lit eyes on his human, watchful and protective.  

As soon as their charge was no longer in any immediate danger of hurting himself, Jim pulled out his cell phone.  “I’m calling my mom.”

“No, no,” Douxie said, forcing his burning eyes open as far as he could and making a feeble swipe at the phone in his friend’s hand.  Jim hesitated, his thumb hovering over the send button.  

“You are obviously not feeling well,” he said.  “And you look sick.  You need to see a doctor before --”

“I’m not sick,” Douxie explained, trying to project an air of wellness that he couldn’t even muster within himself.  At their doubtful looks, he clarified, “Just a little tired.”

“You don’t look like you’ve slept in a month!” Claire exclaimed worriedly.  “We promised to give you a few days to yourself to heal and rest, not turn into one of the living dead!”

“It’s only been a few days,” Douxie assured her.  “I just need to sort some things out in my head, that’s all.  Then I’ll sleep.”  It was a lie, but he needed them to believe it, needed them to go home and go on with their lives and not sit here worrying about him - or worse, try to make him sleep.  He appreciated their concern, and was touched that he had friends who cared so much about his well-being, but they had more important things to deal with - Jim’s transition from being half-troll to enslaved hulk troll to fully human and the loss of his amulet, for starters.  And he had made this mess on his own, this was his fault, so if his punishment was to never sleep again, it should be his to bear alone.  He didn’t deserve to be worried about, he suddenly realized - that was the crux of why he wanted to be left alone so badly.

“A few days without sleep will wreck you, man,” Jim said seriously, his blue eyes offering nothing but concern.  He did pocket his phone again, though, for which Douxie heaved a sigh of relief.  “Trust me, I know.”

Douxie didn’t know the details, but he had heard stories from Claire and Toby about how Jim had, over a year ago, willingly gone into the Darklands, a hellish nightmare-scape beneath the skin of this world, and Claire had told, her own eyes haunted, of how he had come back not himself, traumatized, and how he’d barely slept nor ate and had become a shell of his former self.  

So he asked, voice far more unsure than he felt comfortable with, “How did you move on?  How did you get back to normal?”

He hated himself for sounding so weak.  He’d lived 701 years.  He’d lost people he cared about so regularly that he’d eventually tried to avoid personal connections.  Such was the curse of being a wizard, and being functionally immortal.  The world around him would turn, but he would not age - or rather, he would age slowly, at the pace of his own choosing - and people would die, wars would rise up and die down, and still he would live, watching it all, alone.  That wasn’t true.  Even if Merlin had been entombed for much of that time, he hadn’t been dead, not really.  The knowledge that he would see his mentor again had kept Douxie going during the loneliest of times, during the most devastating losses.  

And, of course, he’d had Archie, a constant companion who even now had done everything he could to help his friend, and when that hadn’t worked, when Douxie had been too stubborn to listen, he’d taken it upon himself to gather more of Douxie’s friends and staged an intervention.  If Douxie hadn’t been so exhausted and his mind hadn’t been so muddy, he might have been grateful or touched by the gesture and loyalty, but right now, he just felt irritated, like his privacy had been infringed upon.

Jim blinked.  “Well, uh,” he stammered, glancing at Claire before continuing, “it took time, first of all.  But, honestly, it was my friends.  But it took talking to someone who had gone through the same thing as me, who understood what I was going through, to first start the healing.”

Douxie shook his head.  “Everybody loses people,” he said slowly.  “But this feels different.”

“Just because everyone deals with loss doesn’t make your experiences any less important, Douxie,” Archie said sagely.  He was the only one in the room who had a true scope of all the heartbreaks Douxie had accumulated over his centuries of life in a world of short-lived mortals.

“It’s not that.” Douxie was desperate now for them to understand the truth. Then maybe they would stop being so kind to him.  Dream-Merlin had been right.  He didn’t deserve it.  “Don’t you see?  It’s my fault Merlin’s dead.  I killed him.”

Jim froze at his words, looking like he’d just been struck across the face.  For a moment, Douxie wondered why he reacted the way he did, but then remembered that Jim had been the one to hold Douxie down when Morgana was going to kill him.  He hadn’t been in his right mind, had been enslaved by the Arcane Order, but still, he had, in a small way, been the reason that Douxie had been forced into doing the switching magic that he had.  Still, Douxie could find no ill will in him against the Trollhunter.  He’d not been in control of his own mind.  Douxie had.

“I am so sorry,” Jim started, but Douxie immediately cut him off.

“It’s not your fault.  You weren’t you.  But me…”

“You have to see the truth,” Jim insisted urgently, now moving to take a seat on the bed next to his older friend.  Sure, they hadn’t known each other all that long, but going through the things they had and saving the world together tended to bring people closer together rather more quickly than usual, in his experience.  “It wasn’t your fault.  You did everything you could to save Merlin.  You took a sword in the gut for him.”  Douxie flinched internally at the reminder of the agony, the feeling of dying, the cold and the dark.  

“Yeah, Douxie,” Claire chimed in.  “You’re a hero.  You saved him.”

“If I’d had more control over that magic, if I’d channeled it a different way or done a different spell, then we might both be alive.”  He was so tired, but the conversation held him in its grip, and he couldn’t sleep anyway, he’d go back to the sword and Merlin’s death and the wizard’s tower where Merlin would tell him again that he’d failed.

“Douxie, you’re the one who’s been teaching me more magic!” Claire reminded him.  “One of the things I learned from my Shadow Staff - and that you’ve continued to show me - is that magic is emotion.  You can’t always control what magic is going to do when you are in a moment of fear or anger or desperation.  Magic reacts to your emotions.  And Jim’s right.  What you did was very brave and selfless.”

“That’s why Merlin gave his life to save you in return,” Archie added.  “That, and because he loved you, very much.”

Douxie felt the sting of hot tears carving pathways down his face and didn’t bother to wipe them off.  He felt like having a full-on temper tantrum, flopping onto his stomach and screaming and sobbing and slamming his fists into the ground and letting his magic explode out of him with all the force of the emotions and exhaustion that had built up inside.  He knew if he did that, though, he would just end up hurting someone else.

So he asked a question he was ashamed to ask, because it made it sound like he blamed Merlin instead of himself, “If he loved me, why did he leave?  Why didn’t he let me make my sacrifice?  It was like what I did didn’t matter.  I saved him because I don’t want to live without him, but that’s just what he forced me to do.”

Archie flapped off the desk and landed on the bed on the other side of his friend.  Placing a paw on Douxie’s leg, he spoke gently, as if to a lost child, “Merlin was a great wizard” -- Douxie sobbed -- “but he was also very selfish sometimes.  That comes with great power and an ego left unchecked paired with a very long life.  Merlin saved you because he couldn’t bear to think of a world without you in it.  Nor,” said the dragon, nuzzling Douxie’s elbow affectionately, “can I, for that matter.”

“But if I --”

“No buts,” said Archie.  “This was not your fault.  And I know Merlin told you the same.”

“He did,” Douxie admitted.  “But then he didn’t.  Every time I sleep, I see him, and he tells me… he tells me that I f-failed, that he’s d-dead because of me, and that I don’t deserve to live.”

“Oh, Douxie,” Claire breathed softly, sinking down into his desk chair.

“That’s not Merlin telling you that,” Jim spoke up.  Something raw lingered in his eyes.  “It’s the lies you are telling yourself.  I know because for weeks after the Darklands, I…” He cast his gaze briefly at Claire, and even in his semi-conscious state, Douxie got the feeling that he hadn’t even told his girlfriend this before.  “I had dreams every night of Claire, Toby, Blinky, Aaarrrgghh, everyone telling me I should have stayed in the Darklands.  Should have died there, because I wasn’t strong or brave enough, and I went in alone and betrayed them, and that they were better off and happier without me.  For a while, I believed them.”

Claire was crying quietly now, her hands pressed against her lips.

“But then,” Jim continued, “the more time I spent with my friends, and talked to them, I began to be able to separate their truth from my own lies.  Like I said earlier, you really need to talk to someone who gets it, you know.  And even though we’ve experienced a lot of the same things, it’s not me.”  He looked pointedly at the small black dragon who was currently in the same place he’d always been - at Douxie’s side.  

“I miss him too.”  Archie repeated his words from a few days ago.  “And I am here for you, Douxie.”  He must have seen the doubt festering in Douxie’s eyes and he reassured, “I do not blame you for what happened.  No one does.  The Merlin in your dreams is not real.  He is spitting your own self-doubts and guilt right back into your face, but deep down, you know the truth.  The real Merlin told you.  Jim and Claire told you.  And I am promising you - Merlin died because he chose to in order to save you because after all he had seen and done and all the years he’d lived, the one thing he was terrified of was having to light your funeral pyre.  And Merlin never did anything he didn’t want to do.  No one could have stopped him from making that choice.”

The words struck something deep inside of Douxie, and he felt the tiniest fraction of weight shift in his chest.  “M’be,” he slurred, so tired that his friends were all now blobs of blue, black, and purple.  A giant bruise.  He chuckled, a bit madly.  

“Okay, Douxie,” came Claire’s voice, distant and very close at the same time.  “I think you really need to lie down now.  You’ve been awake for too long.”

She and Jim helped him lie down.  Weakly, he protested, “I cn’t sleep.”

“You can,” said Jim.  “Take Archie’s words with you if you end up facing that dream-Merlin again.  Remember that we’re here for you.  None of us will leave you while you sleep, okay?”

“Yeah, we’ll be right here when you wake up, and if you have nightmares, we’ll remind you of the truth,” Claire promised.

“And I will guard you,” Archie vowed, retaking his cat form and curling up protectively over his closest friend’s heart.  “You are safe here.”

Douxie could resist the call of sleep no longer.  He closed his eyes and let it take him, and he felt the warm weight of Archie on his chest and the presence of his friends around him and the slightest of smiles curved his lips as he drifted off.

***

Thirty seconds after Douxie grew still upon the bed, his three friends let out a collective sigh of relief.  

Thirty seconds after that, Jim and Claire let out a collective yell of shock and Archie leapt to his paws, hissing and arching his back, as a giant, misty alarm clock appeared out of thin air and started screeching a terrible cacophony of wailing guitars and screaming vocals at top volume.

“What the--?” Claire shouted over the racket, slamming her hands over her ears.

“I forgot,” Archie called back, “he cast this spell to wake him up when he fell asleep.”

And yet, this time, Douxie still slept.

“Can you turn it off?” Jim yelled.

“No, only Douxie can undo the spell.”

Jim considered this for a moment and shook his head.  “Let him sleep.  He needs it.”  

And despite the loud, jarring music, he, Claire, and Archie kept their promise and stayed faithfully at their friend’s side until, four hours later, he woke up long enough to blessedly vanish the clock.

Then, like a little boy with a teddy bear, the already fading Douxie pulled a startled Archie into his arms and held him tight, curling up on his side with his furry prize.  Although uncomfortable in his new position and robbed of his draconian dignity, Archie snuggled in and purred, content to listen to the steady breathing of his deeply sleeping familiar.