#bears den falls

[gbiechele]

Bear's Den Falls Yashica Yashinon 50mm f/1.4 top image Carl Zeiss Jena Sonnar 135mm f3.5 lower two images Sony A7

[fisheito]

aster walks in to everyone muttering over an unconscious eiden and yells WHY IS MY NEW HIRE PASSED OUT ON THE FLOOR

olivine (w/ the sweetest sincerest expression): sorry. i uh. panicked. 😅

maybe aster makes caps a standard part of the uniform so it doesn't seem weird that everyone is hatted. "oh everyone has their preferences on their hats but as long as yall wear the rest of the uniform i don't really care"

so eiden wears his uniform dutifully, and his little cap.

he's pulling a clueless protag move the entire time by seeing ALL the signs but not really questioning it. he's too good at staying in his lane:

"yes, my new boss walks around with prosthetic pointy ears like an elf. he just seems fancy and eccentric like that. it's not my business."

"i swear kuya has fangs? did he get them altered to look like that or was he born with pointy canines? is he one of those vampire kink dudes?? idk i'm too scared to ask"

"yakumo's eyes are slitted? oh, they're contact lenses? huh. he must really like the look to wear them every day. i wonder where he buys custom contacts like that. do they cost a lot??"

.................now i'm thinking of yakumo in a cute lil beanie for extra head warmth. he serves as a "red herring" when he takes off his hat in front of eiden and looks perfectly normal.

UNTIL EIDEN MAKES THE CONNECTION 3 WEEKS LATER WHEN HE SLAPS HIS OWN FOREHEAD LIKE of COURSE [yakumo not having animal ears under his hat] doesn't automatically mean everyone else is like that. yakumo takes care of the snakes. SNAKES DON'T HAVE FLUFFY EARS STICKING OUT OF THEIR HEADS

[twstedstoryshop]

FINALLY, I return properly. Kind of. Reason I've been away for so long was because of insane convention season and also had this bad boy in the works. This is one of two commissions done for a friend. Hope you all can enjoy yourselves for the crumbs I produce. -SK

CONTENT WARNING: Blood, violence, depressed s/o, and mentions of toxic past relationships.

Your New Boyfriends Runs Into Your Ex

While Rook Hunt was one of many to find camaraderie in a den of villains, that didn’t mean chivalry was dead to him. Certainly not him.

Under his keen gaze, he knew that when a certain topic was broached, you would shy away instantly. Paled knuckles, a panicked gaze, and your bottom lip near to splitting open by how badly you chewed down.

It was like he was seeing a rabbit or deer caught in a trap, frantic with no escape. Though his heart had been trained to a perfect steel and not feel for his quarry, when he sees that look in your eyes, all defenses fall away.

The topic? Well, the worries of what the future held for you. Moreso in far off days. Would you continue to have your friends by your side? Would someone ever cherish you? Have a deeper connection?

For Rook, it was a no-brainer because of course! Who else was more worthy of adoration and praise than his dear petite grâce? As he would declare this in all his usual grandeur, a small smile would form on your lips, but that happiness never reached your eyes.

Doubt clouded that sweet gaze of yours. In its own way, seeing such clear eyes be veiled by sadness was heartachingly beautiful. Yet it was a beautiful scene Rook couldn’t bear to behold for too long.

When it came to keeping track of you, Rook was extra considerate. If one can call it that… In his mind, he kept careful track of those you interacted with. He watched your mannerisms, your dialogue, anything amiss he would file it away. But for the longest time, it didn’t seem like an outside force was troubling you.

For a moment, Rook considered that whatever wounded your heart was a scar from a distant past he had yet to uncover. What he didn’t expect was said wound abruptly appearing on a normal day.

From a vantage point, perhaps from a second story window or among the trees that dotted the campus, Rook had caught sight of you stone-still on your walk. Before you, an NRC student he couldn’t recall. He didn’t really have time to register the man when Rook had just attention all on you.

Your wide, hollow eyes. Your chest rising and falling rapidly. How you froze so perfectly under the gaze of this man. It was a scene Rook was all too familiar with. Prey terrified beyond its own mind to run, to hide, or even fight.

Your rational mind couldn’t comprehend what your ex was even saying to you as panic held you in its overbearing clutch. The world grew dizzying and just when you felt like your heart would give out, right then and there, a broad arm wrapped around your shoulders.

“Ah, there you are, ma petite grâce. I was looking all over for you. You made me a bit worried, you know!”

It was hard to look up at him as Rook’s hat was tipped just enough for the shadows to mask his features. But your ex needed only one glance for the role of prey to be forced on him. Green eyes with a gaze so sharp, so precise like a notched arrow perfectly aligned to fire, bored right into him.

It didn’t take much time before the ex backpedaled away with his tail between his legs, now only leaving you with Rook.

Rook would face you, gripping your forearms firmly. His expression, soft though. He called out for you, trying his best to snap you from your daze. When you finally realized it was him now before you, your body moved on its own before you could think. A heaviness made you fall against his chest. You shivered, maybe tears and sobs escaping you.

Rook held you so close against him. Like he was cradling a sculpture of the most delicate porcelain. As if one scratch or knock would crumble you into fine dust.

A single hand held the back of your head protectively, letting you weep as much as you wanted against his shirt. His chin nestled along your hair. You would be so blissfully unaware of Rook’s gaze. A complicated stare into space as his mind swam with many thoughts.

Rook always found beauty in the oddest of places. Yet for the first time, there was something Rook found utterly detestable. A vile image that was a blot in his picturesque vision and that was your ex, the source of your pain. But from that ugliness, he did find a most exquisite sensation. A drive to hunt. An unyielding need to protect you.

While he couldn’t spring into action earlier, his quarry was marked. A hunter is patient and he can wait as long as he needs to for one slip-up, one more attempt to dare get near you, and Rook would be sure to let loose a vicious arrow.

There is a tension between you and Floyd on certain days. While most times, it would be all fun and games, just him and his little Shrimpy. But Floyd wasn’t blind to the weight you carried.

It would irritate him on a dime when you obviously had thoughts clouding your mind. So much so that you fidget anxiously or not even pay attention to him. His sharp voice would call over the din of thoughts and you’d see the eel practically inches away from your face.

His dual colored eyes glared at you and a slight frown pulled at his lips. “Geez, what the hell is goin’ on with you!?” He doesn’t mean to be so crass, but to see his Shrimpy unsettled, it frustrated him. 

Moreso that he can’t exactly pinpoint what was going on with you, that he can’t just squeeze it to a pulp and boom, no more problems!

He knew you had your walls and such walls took time to lower to let him in. Floyd had the patience as a waiting moray eel, but if he had the proactiveness to actually act upon his patience? That’s a whole other story. When it came to you, he just wanted to see you happy and unbothered. All reasoning would flutter out the window.

It may or may not have taken a lot of squeezing and thinly veiled threats to your friends for them to fess up information you couldn’t bear to unload on Floyd. A common name would be passed around, an ex from your past. Just the thought that someone else had their hands on you nearly made Floyd break bones if not for the pitiful yelps of your friends to release them in time.

Questions whirled in that skull of his. Why have you never brought this up to him? What did this ex do to you that made you shy away from him? Where was this scumbag now? All of these worries would bleed into his daily life and if it weren’t for Jade and Azul to straighten him out, he would have been throwing tantrums left and right.

It wasn’t until one day that all his frustrations would come to a boiling point into a final, satisfying crescendo. At least for him.

Work was to be done at Mostro Lounge. Floyd was on duty to be a waiter along with yourself. Both of you have opted to be in an awkward silence in your relationship and it was evident by how you both avoided one another, unsure of how to really talk about your issues.

Floyd had taken an order from a particular student, one he could easily sniff out as a rude bastard by his mannerisms and his tones. But if Floyd’s temper got the better of him, he’d never hear the end of it from Azul. He would hand off the order to you to at least serve drinks.

Everything seemed normal until suddenly a glass shattered. All eyes shifted to you who shivered in place. The tray rattled in your hands and below you a cascade of broken glass.

“Y-you…” “The fuck…? What the hell are you doing here!? And look at what you did to my drink! You’re still incompetent as ever, tch!”

You wanted to cry, scream, run away. You felt so ashamed, being treated like garbage again from an ex you swore you’d never let walk all over you again. But at the height of stress, you couldn’t bring yourself to stand up for yourself. Pathetic, absolutely pathetic…

That is until a sing-song, nonchalant voice slid right up behind you. “Ahhhh, what a shame. I apologize on the behalf of our lil waiter here. They’re just nervous is all. Here~ Why don’t I make it up to ya? I can serve ya a drink right here, right now. On the house~” “Finally, some decent fucking service…”

You looked up at Floyd and saw that dangerous glint in his eyes. How his pupils honed on the poor fool as his smile widened so tightly across his face. He reached for a spare glass that was left on the table, presented it with a flourish to your ex, and coyly said, “Readyyyy~? Watch carefully.”

Then, his hand flew so quick to grab a clump of your ex’s hair and slammed it squarely on the glass. The crunch of glass, your scream, and the screech of chairs being pushed back as patrons jumped.

“GYAHAHA, YOU LIKE IT!? IT’S MOSTRO LOUNGE’S OWN PERSONAL RED. Ahhhh, but the red comin’ from you? Pfft, it ain’t worth the shit under my shoe…” Your ex could barely register what was even being said to him from the glass embedded in his face and blood gushing from his nose and broken lips.

Hands covered your mouth in terror as you could barely register what was happening. From panicked students screaming to Azul and Jade holding Floyd back from beating the poor ex to a pulp. All you could really register was the horrifying satisfaction deep in your chest, seeing the one who hurt you so much battered under the hand of someone who protected you…

Leona has his own ways of caring but most of the time, if you cannot read between the lines, it may come off as uncaring.

He does care, but don’t expect a coddling man rushing to be your knight when you are feeling sorry for yourself. The last thing he wants to do is pity you as he knows all too well the humiliation of being pitied.

Instead he observes, he watches, he’s keen to everything you do that isn’t a part of your daily life. In sly ways, he tries to break your moments of dissociating. He calls your name sharply to snap you out of your funk and gives you a menial task.

Telling you to maybe preen his mane, join Ruggie on an errand, what have you. It’s better to keep yourself occupied than whatever is plaguing your mindscape.

Sometimes, he will even abruptly lean against you, his weight toppling the both of you over. Even if you protest under him, he will insist he’s really tired and just wants something warm beside him to help him sleep. In truth, it’s just another way to stop your self-deprecating thoughts.

Though he will speak up in annoyance if your depressed thoughts start to bleed into your relationship. It will sting, but he means well. He tells you gruffly that he’s not in the mood to lay next to baggage. He wants only his partner, dammit.

You may argue, you may not, it depends on how you react but at the end of it, one way or another, you’re going to have to face him and this problem that hangs over you.

If you take time before approaching him or spill everything in one go, he will wait patiently and listen. But cowardice by running away he won’t accept and would want answers promptly.

One way or another, the truth has to come from you and you explain the thoughts that coil around you like a petulant serpent. A name and face that digs into your chest horribly. Your ex and the ways he has hurt you in many ways.

Leona listens stoically, letting you share your story before acknowledging and commending the strength it took for you to finally admit this. He knows all too well the pains of the past, he shares in your frustrations. But the past stays in the past for a reason.

Now it’s you and him now. You define yourselves here in the present. If anyone says otherwise? Well, he’d like to see them try.

Who would have known that such a time would come so soon when one day, someone had the gall to start harassing you right in the Savanaclaw dorm.

That same face that always lingered around you like a ghost was here right now in the flesh, taunting you at the edges of the Spelldrive field. Your ex sneered at you, wondering what the hell you were doing around here during his practice hours. Had the nerve to accuse you of stalking him despite your split.

Your anger boiled your blood, your face flushed. Your nerves alighted with a burning fury that made the dorm’s dry heat pale in comparison. But your body did not respond to you. Your throat froze despite wanting to curse and yell out at your ex.

What neither you expected though while your mouth gasped for something, anything to throw at this scumbag, was a lion’s roar peeling across the field. A shadow loomed over your ex and both of you looked up to a silhouette blocking the sun and a pair of piercing green eyes.

Astride his broom, Leona stared squarely at the ex. “For a minute, I thought I heard annoying squawks from a mangy vulture, but now I just see a whelp. Having the nerve to approach my partner…”

Without missing a beat, Leona lowered himself to the ground and sauntered right over to your ex. Your ex tried to stand his ground but anyone could tell he was practically shaking in his spot.

“So.... What were you two talking about?” It was such a simple question. So trivial. But the way Leona spoke each word, it was like a pair of hungry jaws were ready to snap behind every syllable. He dared for your ex to slip up.

“N-nothing… Nothing at all… I was l-leaving…” “Hooo?” Leona’s tail whipped behind him in amusement. “So you just waltzed up to my partner and gawked at them? Nothing left your useless, flapping gums? I can hardly believe that.”

Leona’s knuckles cracked as he flexed his hand and for a quick second, you swore you saw wind and dust particles gather between his finger tips. The air felt still and you heard your ex gulp audibly from a dry throat. Then, a sudden calmness.

“But if you were just about to leave, then by all means, scurry along. I hate people wasting my time.”

To which your ex immediately did, turning on his heel, so close to make a run for it. Then, like a giant paw slamming atop a helpless mouse, Leona’s hand roughly grabbed his shoulder and stopped him.

“A warning since I’m feeling so generous today… Don’t ever let me catch you near them again. Ya hear me? Or else, I’ll make you a nice addition to the scenery. We could always add more sand and bones.” Leona cracked a toothy smirk with darkness in his eyes. His fangs glinted in the sun and it was then you truly realized the fierce lion you had taken in as your boyfriend.

[bittleholtz]

LOOK at her she is my everythign

[human-monokuma]

Event: The Lonely Cub in Hell

*In the depth of hell, a wailing cry echoes throughout the night of acid rain. You hear that very cry as you were going on about your business. Eventually, you find the source of the crying in an alleyway. You see what looks like a small baby bear. A cub with black and white fur. The fur on the left side was black with a red mark over its eye and the right side was white. It was crying loudly to the heavens, tears in its eyes, and looking beyond miserable. It was shivering, covered in mud and fleas, and seemed like it was starving. Upon a closer look, it looked like one of its legs was broken. By it's scent, it seems to be a new arrival in hell. He must've died recet What happened to this cub? A sad, lonely, hungry, cold, dirty, defenseless cub in the pits of hell.*

Sinner: "There it is!" *A few angry sinners arrive on the scene, glaring angryly at the crying bear cub. Th sinners surrounds the poor cub.* "Hey! Shut the fuck up, already! Some of us are trying to sleep!" *But the cub couldn't bring himself to stop. He tries, but it just erupts in more cries. The sinners are looking angrier and angrier by the second. What will you do?*

@sinistersmiles @fall-of-eden @xxcottoncandybitchxx @xxstaticontheradioxx @dojokento @respectless @cxndiesandstrxwberries @smiling-cervidae(2P) @bartender-husk @a-house-divided @tobys-multiverse-official @domini-inferni(Rosie, Zestial, Carmila, and/or the Vees.) @setting-morningstar @tainted-heavenly-heathenism @the-vampire-den @d4y-0f-judg3m3nt @forbidden-evearice

[frogchiro]

can I request thots on hybrid coyote graves and maybe a sweet little farmer who dotes on him- she legit gives him food and scratches all the time thinking he's a dog because of how sweet he is to her- plot twist he's just being polite cuz he's in love and is ready to mate her anytime she bends over 💕 bonus points if she's totally receptive and that makes him go feral

I think you'd like my cottage core!Reader au I did a while back!! Bc it's basically what you described, just Coyote!Philip being the biggest menace to poor reader who just wants to live her quaint and calm life in her cottage surrounded by forests and rolling fields of green, but suddenly this loud, cocky coyote hybrid appeared!

He may be loud with his howls and yowls and keeping you up at night but that are just his mating calls! He wants you to know he's an eligible coyote male, very strong and virile and that he's ready to mate with you! And he has to let you know too!

But you never hold that against him, bless your heart. You can never say no to those big blue eyes and the charming, toothy smile he sends your way. He's older but very handsome in a rogue-ish, rugged way. And he's very friendly and chatty too! Swings by your cottage every day to chat with you and spending the whole day with you (sometimes the night too, unknowingly to you he sometimes sleeps in your garden) and sometimes he comes bearing gifts! They range from berries to dead birds he hunted for you to fluffy warm pelts and blankets for the harsh winters here! (You don't ask how he got the last one)

And after all his efforts you can't just not try and repay him :(( Philip wants to prove he is a great provider and can and will take care of you (and any possible pups you produce) so you make delicious jam from the berries he gathered that you later put into those cookies he loves snacking on and you use the birds he hunted and the vegetables from your garden to make rich, nutricious meals for the hybrid and he is yet to turn a single one of them down <3

As for the pelts and blankets they come in handy when a harsh winter hits and you're scrambling to put together a fire in the fireplace to warm yourself and your home and assemble what is basically a pillow fort in your bed to warm yourself....But you couldn't help but worry about Phil. You know he has his den in the woods and that the pelt on his back and chest give him some warmth but this winter is worse than any you've seen and you worry about your hybrid companion, what if he freezes to death?

You were about to dress yourself and go out looking for him to invite him but luck was on your side and the hybrid male came to you first! He had his charming smile as always as he nonchalantly asked if he could warm himself up in your cottage and despite his bravado, you could see that the man was freezing cold so you immediately pulled him inside and basically stated that he is going to be staying with you for the rest of the winter and you won't take no for an answer.

Of course Philip was elated to hear it! For him this was basically a proposal and before long you two were snuggled under the warm furs and blankets Phil gave you (not before he insistently rubbed himself on your entire bed to 'scent it thoroughly'), falling asleep blissfully except for your hot blush as you felt the hot and hard pressure between your thighs and the blonde's panting and whines :((

[charliemwrites]

Government Asset Soap! This is half of the last part (the smut got too long and I wanted to post this dammit).

Original concept comes from @ceilidho’s military asset Soap. Further inspiration came from @391780’s Nikto version “The Summons”. Both are very good and you should definitely check out!!

Content: Post-trauma coping, Non-Con Touching and Kissing, Violence (mentioned), Unstable Soap

It’s probably a fire hazard, the candles. They’re sprinkled across your little cabin like fireflies, feeble but steady heartbeats of a home you’re failing to build. Too many of them, likely. Two, sometimes three, per room. Tiny tealights, smokeless soy, scented pine. It would be easier, safer, to just turn on the lamps you foolishly invested in.

You can’t bear anything brighter than golden halogen anymore, though. The glare drags you back to a tiny cell bisected by cruel metal, holding back an even crueler fate. No, you’d much rather wade through pools of shadow and firelight, fire code be damned.

It’s a small cabin, but you’ve already cluttered it up with furniture and rugs, a theme for each room. Yellow and blue for the kitchen. Purple and cream for the den. Green and brown for your bedroom. Nooks to hide in, spaces to squeeze into, big shapes to huddle behind. You’ll never be caught out in a cold, barren room ever again.

Your days are long regardless of the time of year. Get groceries in town every day, making a point to be friendly and seen so that someone might notice if you suddenly stop coming. Clean incessantly, so many surfaces to dust. Pick hobbies like daisies. Knitting and crocheting, different paint styles, felting. You’re contemplating carpentry, would like to build shelves for all the books stacked up in the den. Keep a dream journal by your bed that you neglect for weeks at a time.

You draw out the nights until you can count the hours until dawn on one hand. Stay up baking, making homemade ink, learning new ways to style your hair, anything, anything, anything—

It’s not the sleeping – or at least that’s not the worst of it. It’s the waking.

Laswell suggested a cat.

You told her to stop suggesting pussy to unstable people.

But it’s still not a bad idea. Another living thing to keep you accountable; the plants are pretty and time-consuming, but not good company.

You talk yourself out of it every time, knowing the worst-case scenario. It’s not catastrophizing if it actually happens, and you can feel an invisible time weighing on your shoulders like another gravity. Tick, tick, tick. Heavier, heavier, heavier. It’s hard to breathe beneath the wait.

The military doesn’t do apologies. It does platitudes at best. Well wishes and good intentions are painted in brushstrokes of blood. Victory flags are planted on bodies, living or otherwise. Laswell apologized. She swore that if there had been another way – any other way…

She didn’t promise to leave you alone. Didn’t assure you that you’d never see her or her goons again.

If you thought it would do any good, you’d tip one of the candles over and set it all aflame. Rebirth through fire. But you never did figure yourself for a phoenix. And besides, a phoenix is still itself, even when the ash falls away.

So, you spool out your time like picking at tapestry threads, one thin string at time.

Tonight, it’s bread. Cinnamon chocolate babka, to be specific. You were craving something sweet. Are debating the merits of some sort of cream cheese icing while you shower off the long, ever-busy day.

Have decided on an optimistic why not as you slip out to begin your overly complicated self-care routine. Moisturizers, hair oils, lotion. An unexpected benefit of overloading yourself, you suppose. Even when you first got out of the military, you didn’t take such good care of yourself. You have a jogging route now. You’re handling your trauma every possible way except therapy. (And sleeping.) Better than nothing, you figure.

The candles have gone out in your bedroom. You click your tongue in annoyance, trying to remember where you left the matches this time. Bedside table?

You pad across the soft carpet, using the edge of the bed as a guide in the pitch black. The only other problem with candles is that their humble light doesn’t reach very far. But you know this house and keep the floors tidy enough that you’re confident you won’t trip.

Make it to the nightstand without incident and pat around. Knock the side of your hand into the little carton and only just catch it before it hits the deck. Let out a little huff and start to fumble it open.

“Nice catch, bonnie.”

You gasp, but your voice doesn’t get any farther than the back of your tongue. The box slips from your numb fingers, matchsticks scattering across the floor. He tsks.

“Shame that. We’ll get ‘em later.”

You can’t move. Can barely breathe. You’re just frozen, heart thundering with a sudden storm of fear and confusion. Hands still aloft in front of you, spine rigid, knees locked.

You feel more than hear movement behind you, and then the warmth of his body seeping into your naked skin. Not quite touching. Not yet.

“Missed you, little bird,” he rasps in your ear.

You always thought that in a moment like this you would scream. Kick and elbow and fight, damn your certain loss. But when it comes down to it, survival drowns out all those stupid, haughty ideas about pride and dignity. So you don’t curse and shout like you always fancied you would.

You whisper, “Soap.”

He hums but it sounds like a growl in your panicked state. “Missed me too, aye? You’re already naked fer me.”

His hands are searing when they settle on your waist like they belong there. He pulls you back against him; in the dark he’s bigger, broader than you remember. At least, you think, he’s fully clothed for now.

“What are you… how are you here?” you ask.

He barks a laugh, mean and rough. “Was only a matter of time after that shite they pulled.”

You squeeze your eyes shut and see it recreated in the phosphenes behind your lids.

Soap buried balls deep inside of you, murmuring a constant stream of filth as he got harder and harder inside you. Filling you up as you twitched around him, oversensitive and teary, afraid of what would come next.

Then the lights flashed, flicked red. An alarm sounded, Laswell’s voice ordering Soap away from you. But he just snarled and hunched over you, hips snapping to bury himself right back inside while you cried out.

The locked door swung in, armed guards swarming in. Yanked Soap off you while you scrambled to cover yourself. Someone grabbing your arm none too gently to pull you from the room. Soap wild-eyed and snarling like something possessed, until he was overtaken by struggling guards and you were trembling naked in that damned hallway.

“Was mad at you, at first, cannae lie,” he says, almost conversational. Your eyes snap open, though you know it’ll do you no good. “But I’ve had time to think on it. Wasnae yer fault, was it? Saw them drag you out.”

An awful relief floods you. Fuck dignity, fuck honesty. This is Soap right behind you, completely unrestrained and unsupervised.

“Yeah,” you answer, voice small. “I didn’t know they would do that. What… um. What happened to you?”

He presses his face into your damp hair, pressing closer, snaking his arms to squeeze you against him.

“Sent me off on some shite mission,” he explains, “probably hoped I’d die out there. You smell so good, lass.”

You shiver as his breath ghosts over the sensitive skin of your neck. Hot, humid.

“And… and then what?” you insist, trying to stall.

You’re not sure what you’re stalling for. There will be no miraculous saves here – not that you really got any last time. It’s not like there’s any real plan to be made here, either. None that you’d be confident enough to risk his wrath on.

“Disappeared. Took care of business. Came to get my pretty little bird.”

A rough hand trails over the curve of your hip, brush the neat curls of your mound. You suck in a breath, hands twitching with the urge to stop him but not sure of putting up resistance when you’re still unsure of his mental state.

“And what about you, hm?” he rumbles. “Been a good girl while I’ve been away?”

His fingers dart down towards your entrance, not nearly prepared for anything. Least of all his thick digits.

“Y-yes!” you yelp, grabbing at his wrist. Relief makes you dizzy when you manage to stop him. “I-I’ve been good. Which means I’m not… I can’t just take you. I need… I need prep.”

He huffs, nips at the tender spot beneath your ear. The thrill that shoots through your stomach is terrifying.

“That’s what these are for, bonnie.”

And to your horror, he starts to push past your resistance like your staying hands aren’t there at all.

“John!”

He freezes. You shudder air into your burning lungs, feeling dizzy on panic.

You can get through this without pain, just think.

“I haven’t even got to see you,” you stutter, voice shaky. Can’t quite inject the disappointment you’re trying for, but hopefully it’ll work. “And I bet you’re all dirty from travel.”

He grumbles. “So what?”

You scramble to think of a satisfactory response. “S-so let’s get reacquainted in the shower, yeah? That way I can see your handsome face, at least.”

He chuckles, grazes his teeth “playfully” across your cheek. “Bossy thing.”

“You like it.”

And to your shock, he agrees with an amused huff. Hauls you up in his arms and walks you back to the still muggy bathroom. You’re set on your feet and spun around, chin jerked up to receive a savage kiss. All tongue and teeth, no finesse. He’s just licking into your mouth, hungry and animalistic, spit dribbling down your chin.

When he finally pulls away, you blink spots from your vision. Finally focus on his smug features and make a soft, horrified noise when you register the splatter of crimson across them.

“Och, that? My little bird had watchers.”

Of course you did. The horror ebbs a bit. Resentment has made you indiscriminately bitter.

“Oh,” you say, “th-thank you. Definitely glad we’re showering first, then.”

“Squeamish?”

You’d like to know when the world turned upside down and John fucking “Soap” MacTavish began teasing you about the blood on his face.

“A bit,” you admit.

“Poor dear,” he coos. “Hard to believe we were made for each other sometimes, aye? Complementary, we are.”

Is that what he thinks? Christ.

You turn to start the shower again, spine prickling with the weight of his eyes on your back. The water rushes down and then he’s crowding you against the cold wall beneath the (thankfully) warm spray.

“Y-you’re still dressed!” you protest between sharp nips to your collarbone.

“Fix it, then,” he snarls.

You claw his shirt up his back, get momentarily distracted by the impressive display of muscle hidden beneath. Draw your palms over his chest and feel him shudder.

“Fuckin’ heavenly, love,” he purrs. “Missed this.”

A vague memory comes back to you, him gripping you close because he felt you naked against him for the first time. Him admitting he hasn’t had affectionate touch in a while.

This… this you could work with.

[josibunn]

you guys won’t BELIEVE who won the poll! jk I knew you guys would pick euro :3 I love writing for him!

nsfw R!Euronymous hcs!!

tl: @vanlisbon @cc-luvrr @monkeyfart @444rockstargf @bambi-horror @u1traer0tic @auggiethecreator

euronymous who didn’t know how to give head until he met you. like, at all. he didn’t even lie to you, he just told you straight up. and being the hood gf you are, you taught him :3. he was being so good for you, so eager to please, resting his head on your thigh with his hair pinned up, looking at you. you nod and watch him hover over your cunt, soft breath tickling you and making you clench around nothing. you’d already told him what felt good to you, but you just wanted to see if he’d listen. he was so excited hearing you moan under him, your back arching and thighs squeezing his head, which he quickly pulled back apart as he dug you out. and he got cocky FAST, giving you orgasm after orgasm until you were LITERALLYYYYY pulling him off, begging him to stop.

euronymous who always handles you after a gig, even though he’s so sleepy and worn out :(. he bear hugging you while your arms are wrapping around his shoulders, back arching off the bed and legs in the air. he’s plowing into you, hugging you making up stiff other than your lower half jerking violently, moaning out in his ear and for everyone in your tiny apartment building to hear. you were babbling, as he speaks in that sleepy, sore voice he always has after a show. you feel your third—no, fourth orgasm of the night since he’s came home. “they fuckin’ loved me, did you hear baby?” he breaths, knowing you can barely respond, he felt you clench, knowing you were close with him.

euronymous who just knows your body better than you do, he forbids you from masturbating and even throws out your toys because he knows you don’t need them, telling you “i’m everything you need.” he comes home catching you fingering yourself, sprawled out on the bed and your head thrown back, desperately trying to create the feeling he gave you many times before, but he was right, he did know your body best :(. he creeps into the room when he hears you from downstairs, whining and moaning. you expect him to be gone much longer but he left early to check up on you, and he’s glad he did. “baby,” he cooes and startles you, making you close your legs. “I was only gone for two hours, what happened?” he faux pouts, sitting next to you and rubbing your thighs. before you can even speak he’s tucking his hair behind his ears and digging you out with his tongue. you’re grateful, but you don’t know he’s gonna snatch orgasm and orgasm from you because you decided to disobey him :’(

euronymous who will fuck you anywhere. in the office, the den, the front counter, the van, backstage, anywhere. hell do it with people over. hell, he’s fucked you over a three four story hotel room balcony once, just because he can, and he knows how scared you get. you gasp, feeling his hand grab the back of your neck and push you further over the ledge, the cold breeze of the night hitting your face. you moan out when he starts pounding into you harder, pushing you further and you grab onto the ledge, fear shooting through you. “euronymous. —gasp—euronymous no! stop!” you moan, shutting your eyes and clenching down on him out of fear, and he groans. he loves it, he loves it so much. “cmon baby,” he lets out a throaty chuckle, “views so pretty, such a big city ain’t it?” he’s smirking, you can tell. you push back onto him to try and go back on the balcony, but it only sends you over the edge, your body falling weak against the railing. “cmon sugar, tighten up. let everyone know how fucking good I make you feel.”

euronymous who’s so loud when doing anything remotely sexual. whether it’s praise, degrading, moaning and groaning, he’s just so loud. and whenever you’re somehwere you’re not supposed to you two have to hold each others mouth shut bc best believe you’re the exact same. you’re at his parents. he’s supposed to be letting your mom show you his old band days, but you’re against his bathroom wall, legs wrapped around his waist as he pounds into you, rasping in your ear as you try n suppress your moans against his hand. can you blame him? you just look so so cute in your modest little sundress with teeny tiny flowers on it. his mom adored it, and øystein couldn’t take his eyes off of it. “fucking fuck baby, oh my god,” his eyes rolls back as he watched his cock disappear into you, he’s babbling, so worked up from just the sight of you. “don’t even know why you thought i’d keep ca—” you slap a hand over his mouth, hearing footsteps, moreso the clacking of heels. his eyes are locked on yours as he steadies his thrusts, trying to keep quiet.

that being said, euronymous with a praise kink. sometimes it’s not even sexual, it could be a “aww thank you baby!! you’re so good to me,” when he gets something you’ve been eyeing, but it’s usually when he’s deep inside you, knocking the fucking wind out of you and making you babble like a bitch in heat. you just do something to him, he can’t help it :(. “oh m’fucking god baby, hah, ahh baby,” you moan out, feeling him press against your tummy as you near your umpteenth orgasm of the night, eyes rolling back and mouth hung open, body limp and unable to hold him off even comprehend what he was doing anymore. “øystein, oh fuck it-it’s so good, so much I can’t take it,” you whine, back arching as you felt your legs shake. he’s quiet the whole time, taking in the mess he was making out of you. it drove him insane, each “baby i’m-i’m gonna cum!” just made him hornier for you, you had a love hate relationship with it.

euronymous who will fix that attitude you have anywhere, whether it be at a gig, alone, or out with people. and you’re just so nasty that of course it turns you on, making you all stupid and fuzzy. “hey, cmere.” he snaps his finger, he wasn’t asking anymore. you’d been so bratty at his big listening party, sassing him, rolling your eyes, pushing him away, it was embarrassing him in front of his circle, and he was fed up. you roll your eyes again and this time he grabs your cheeks harshly, making you whimper as he brought you behind the counter. “the fucks the matter with you, hm? been a bitch to me all night.” he asks but you just stare at him with that pout, arms crossed. he grabs your throat and slaps you across the face and thankfully, the music was loud enough for anyone to not hear. you gasp and hold onto his wrist, shutting your eyes for the next blow. “I asked you a question, what you don’t wanna listen to me? you don’t like me anymore?” you shake your head, “speak up, cmon.” “i do..” “then why’re your bein’ mean t’me, hm? where’s my good girl? it’s a big night for me.” hes talking to u in that voice that he knows makes you all crumbly and stupid, your head foggy and eyes glossy. he rubs your cheek before slapping you again, “i’m not gonna do it with you tonight. get it together, ok?” “y-yes..” “yes who, don’t play dumb with me. who’re you talkin’ to?” “yes daddy,” you say nervously, looking around to see if anyone was watching since he still had you by the neck. you rub your thighs together as he kisses your cheek, “good, there she is, cmon.”

I got a little carried away sorry😭 n sorry this was so late omg!! I have nails on and it’s so hard to type with them. I hope you enjoyed!! mwah mwah mwah

[ceilidho]

The fact that I've been thinking about bear shifter Price religiously ever since you posted him. Thinking about how thick he would be, all broad shoulders and huge biceps with thick chest hair on his gorgeous pectorals. About how in the fall he would gain weight and be so warm, soft, and so cuddly as the hibernation season sets in. You would run into him less and less, but the bear sightings in the park go up as the days get shorter and colder.

Thinking of him in a flannel and a beanie holding his morning coffee and watching as you stroll right past him, paying him no attention, as he waits until night time to grab you and have his way with you in his cave. Large hands, strong and cushioned body working your form into the harsh stone of the cave floor as he rams into you.

Thinking of his actual house (non cave moment) that feels like a log cabin and is filled with luxurious fur blankets and has a huge wood burning stove in the living room. Thinking of him lumberjacking away in the woods and coming to find him sweaty and sexy sitting on his porch admiring the view of the evergreen forest around him.

Its almost fall and I need him to be able to move into the season properly

anon u should've just made this a post and tagged me so i could reblog it bc this is brilliant. ooohhhh you tickled something good inside my brain like im curling up at the thought of this price.

wait I'm also thinking of something else. bear shifter!Price two months out from hibernation season and he hasn't started stockpiling food or blankets in his cabin just yet and the urge is starting to get to him. itching under his skin. he's been putting it off without a real reason, getting lost in the forest for long swaths of time, trudging through the new snow up high in the mountains.

he starts showing up at your house at odd hours. you're fixing coffee in the morning, still fuzzy and warm from sleep, only to hear the sounds of hammering outside. you find John fixing the loose step on your stairs, barely sparing enough time to greet you before returning to the task at hand. when he's done, he brushes off your attempts to pay him for the job, just loads his tools back in the car and drives off.

the next day he's raking the leaves in your lawn. then showing up at the grocers when you're picking up produce, helps you carry all your bags to the car. also adds a weird amount of canned goods to your order and when you fret and try to tell him that you don't need pickles and sauerkraut and beans and all of that stuff, he just lays a hand flat on your head and drags it down your hair until you go quiet. then he pays for the whole order.

it takes him awhile before he realizes that he's slowly turning your house into his den.

[ghostlythunderbird]

The Pack ~ First Impressions

Pairings: Alpha!Konig, Alpha!Simon “Ghost” Riley, Alpha!Keegan P. Russ X Omega!Fem!Reader

Warnings: 18+ Minors/Ageless Blogs DNI, Omegaverse, Mentions of Human Trafficking and Domestic Violence, Extremist views, The UN exists here

Words: 2,784 (wow I wrote all that?!?!)

Author’s Notes: Please do not repost, edit, or translate my work. This blog and all content will be marked 18+ even if there is no NSFW content, if you are underage or have no age I don't want to deal with you. This is my first ever series so it will be updated whenever I can, due to my difficult work schedule. But please sit back and enjoy this series! Special thanks to @l-lend, @kelpiesummer, and @photogirl894 for all the help!

“Breaking News: Omega populations continue to fall.”

With recent all-time highs of Omega trafficking and high numbers of Domestic Abuse against Omegas worldwide, Omega birth rates are dwindling by the thousands in the last few years. While Omega numbers fall, other secondary gender numbers have begun to rise, with Beta birthrates rising to a staggering 84% over the last 5 years. Are omegas in danger of dying out?~

“The fall of the Omega second gender; A modern extinction?”

Over the last decade, the number of omegas of age has drastically fallen. Omegas were once considered roughly 20% of the world population and contributed to approximately 70% of birthrates worldwide; their current population barely comes to 7% across the globe, and their birthrates are almost non-existent. Could this result from unregulated access to this world bearing second gender? Will the UN seek to restabilize their population, or will omegas be at the mercy of those around them?

What had become of the world before you were born? It was a nearly lawless land, people turning on one another. The fight for breeding rights or access to an omega led Alphas into utter madness, their biology overriding common sense. Your Dam had told you stories of her childhood, how she saw the fall of an entire second gender. How awful the world indeed became, and how it rose from those ashes carrying new hope and protection to those who seek it. She remembered how fearful her Sire and Dam were during those years, but that was before new laws were established. New laws ensured the ability to return Omegas to their higher numbers to provide their protection.

During the years of the Modern Extinction, the UN scrambled to place laws worldwide to protect and nurture omega numbers. However, many early regulations did nothing to buffer the steady decline. It wasn't until an organization was formed: The Global Omega Protection and Population Program (GOPPP) was introduced. The Program had only a few essential purposes, to Pair off omegas to ensure total protection; to free and rehabilitate omegas who were victims of Trafficking and Domestic Violence. And finally, it is a form of Breeding operation to help nurture omega populations to where they were years before. Omegas who had become legal adults would be admitted to the Program to soon be matched with compatible Alphas.

The only downside to this Program was many omegas were often treated as broodmares and were often left emotionally neglected. Reduced to their primary duties of bearing Alpha and Omega children with occasional betas to be their legacy. Omegas were unable to work, much less be able to leave their dens without an Alpha to accompany them. While many Alphas believe it would be better for their mates to be allowed to do certain things without them around, the Program often overlooked their words. Over time, however, newer generations believed these precautions were beyond necessary and soon revised or added new laws to accompany them. Their latest law is; Omegas who are in public must wear protective full-length collars even with their Alphas present.

Those laws were added when you were just a pup and still living simply, unknowing of the world around you. Soon you were forced to acknowledge the dark reality you were born into when you presented; An Omega. Your parents, who were born Betas, cried when your first heat started. They had prayed you would be a Beta or even an Alpha, but it seemed their prayers fell upon deaf ears from the higher power.

Unfortunately, the Program soon discovered your presentation at 16 years old. While you were still too young to be entered into the Program, It didn't stop them from preparing for that day. You remembered those late nights hearing your parents downstairs talking about you, about your soon-to-be future. Your Dam was terrified, talking to your Sire about the stories from other omega parents. For some, they ranged from fairytale endings, but a vast majority were nothing short of horror-made flesh. Omegas were emotionally manipulated and abused by the very alphas they were entrusted to.

As you grew older, your parents decided to wait a few more years for you to enjoy life before you became tied to your future mates. You were incredibly thankful they pushed back against the Program to allow you to enjoy your young adult years. But as your Sire would say, "Whether good or bad, everything must come to an end."

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

The room was bare as you and your parents waited for the Omega Protection program representative to enter. You wished you were never born as an Omega; you wouldn't have to go through this Program if you weren't. Facing the fact that you would be removed from your parent's home only to be moved in with alphas you've never met before, and said Alphas were already selected for you. These alphas were being forced on you without knowing how they acted towards you or the other alphas; their past, what they looked like, and their personalities were beyond wrong to you. You were slowly being drowned in uncertainty; so many things could go wrong, hell you didn't even know if your alphas were good.

Your Dam grabbed your hand, sensing the rising anxiety in your scent. "It will be ok dear; these alphas will protect you. There is nothing to fear from this." You knew her words were supposed to feel comforting, but you couldn't help but think bitterly, 'well, it isn't you being fed to the wolves.' Before you could say anything, the door began to creak open, causing your Sire and Dam to straighten to greet the person walking in. You, however, just sunk into the couch, begging for it to open and swallow you whole.

As the door opened fully, it revealed two Betas entering, one male and one female. Their scents were almost non-existent as they stepped further into the room before sitting on the couch across from your family. "Good Morning, Mr. and Ms. (L/N); we're delighted you're here. My name is Matthew, and my partner is Hannah." The male beta spoke as he gestured to the woman beside him. "We will handle your daughter's case and pack introduction today." At the brief mention of you, the Betas locked onto your form. Noticing your rising anxiety, the female beta spoke up to clear the air.

"And you must be (y/n); I'm sure this is very overwhelming for you, but rest assured we have made plenty of healthy matches over the years," Her voice was quiet yet soft as the words fluttered from her lips. You could only briefly smile; she wanted you to trust her and her judgment. But even with that, you couldn't help but dread your matches. The fact you had to blindly trust two strangers who picked your lifelong mates was beyond unnerving.

Hannah leaned back into the couch, making herself comfortable. "now, before we introduce you and your parents to your new pack, we have a few things to discuss before we bring them in, ok?" The tension in the air was heavy as Matthew and Hannah shared a look before continuing. "Well, you know our priority is to pair all omegas with a pack of alphas to ensure their safety and increase omega birthrates. That being said, the pack selected for you is not exactly regular by our standards." That wasn't what you expected; you couldn't decide if you were more worried or curious about this confession.

This pack may be more interesting than you had initially thought. The dark-headed male cleared his throat, continuing, "This pack was already together before their application to our Program; these alphas are also active military with clean records. Two originate from Europe while the other is from the US; along with that, one of these alphas just so happens to be an uh...Apex alpha." Upon hearing this, the air in your lungs evaporated in mere seconds as a chill ran down your spine. This pack had seemed almost too good to be true, but with information, it only made you dread your initial meeting. Apexes were often found to be extremely dangerous, unable to control themselves in high emotional and hormonal situations.

Your Sire drew in a breath. "So what does that mean for our daughter? Why in the hell was she assigned to an Apex?" His growl filled the air. Also, being a beta, your father was not at threatening as an alpha could be, but with a protective Sire, anyone would be cautious with their following decisions. Matthew grew stiff. "With all due respect, sir, we've gone through an extensive background check with this apex. The alphas packed with him are his fellow service members who can fully vouch for him." Your eyes widened, a packed apex with people who know how he works; this pack was unusual and rare. 'Well, from what it sounds like so far, they don't seem like bad people. Maybe this is one of those lucky matches.'

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

He couldn't stand; still, the chairs were far too small for him, and standing in the quiet room only made his nerves light up more than they already were. König paused to look at the door; it was closing to an hour since the three alphas were left in the room. The beta Hannah had told them to wait a few minutes, and they'd bring in their omega and her family. His body responded to the thought; after so many years of rejection letter after another, this felt like some sick prank to the Austrian apex. He was so nervous that he couldn't stay still, pacing back and forth and wiping his palms along his jeans.

His companions couldn't help but tease the anxiety-ridden giant. "König, relax, man. If you keep pacing, you might carve out a path in the floor." The dark-headed alpha joked as he shifted in his chair. While König was the most visibly anxious of the trio, Keegan attempted to keep himself calm, even with the bubbling excitement growing in his gut. Keegan's eyes traveled across the room, glancing between furniture and the small window. 'Not much cover, but at least it would be difficult for a potential sniper.'

"At least he's standin' up, be less of a shock to 'er." Ghost's voice echoed through the small room, breaking his zoned-out stare for a split second. The alpha had taken the only viable spot and backed into the furthest corner facing the doorway. Keegan snorted at the other alpha's remark; he knew it was true. König was massive on a human scale, but more so because he was an apex alpha. Before he could respond to the blonde-haired alpha, he heard two pairs of footsteps coming down the hall. Leaning up in his chair, Keegan sounded a low chuff to gain the other's attention before nodding towards the door.

Ghost made no move to his form; König, however, rushed to fix his messy hair to appear somewhat presentable. Keegan gave König a reassuring nod right before the door opened, and the heavenly scent of an omega swept through the small space. First, the Program's beta entered but then appeared their soon-to-be omega mate. 'Jesus, she's so.....small compared to us.' You ducked your head as the alphas zeroed in on you once you passed the threshold. Looking towards the blonde and black-haired alphas, you couldn't help but think that this wasn't as bad until you turned to look at, by far, the largest alpha you'd ever seen. His size had taken you aback, and the previous thought of being able to handle this pack was thrown entirely out the window.

Hannah gently rested her hand on your shoulder to regain your attention "(Y/N) meet your pack; first, we have Keegan Russ." Pointing to the smallest alpha, his eyes caught your attention first. They were a beautiful grey-blue that seemed to freeze you in place but also held a hidden sadness underneath them. Even with him being the smallest of the three, he knew he had a certain charm. His stature, eyes, and confident yet arrogant attitude had people flocking to him no matter their presentation. "Next, we have Ghost; that is his preferred name for now." The alpha in the corner made no attempt to move as his eyes raked over you before giving a slight nod. While his face was covered by a black medical mask, it didn't take away from his rugged beauty much; a mop of blonde hair with hooded brown eyes that slightly shined. Turning toward the last alpha, you could feel the tension between the betas and him. "Finally, we have the apex, König." She didn't seem too keen about him being here. A wave of well-maintained anger for what he was seemed to drive her not to acknowledge him; you couldn't help but feel a twinge of hurt toward him.

Although he had a large size, he seemed to fold in on himself, attempting to appear smaller to not scare you away. Unfortunately, you couldn't see much of him other than his eyes, a blue that reminded you of the ocean. "well, we will leave you all to get acquainted while we finish the paperwork and have her parents gather her things." With a final look over her shoulder, Hannah closed the door behind her leaving you with your new pack. Looking towards the alphas whose gaze tore into you, you could only give a slight grin "u-uh, hi there!"

Before you knew it, they all moved at once; while it wasn't swift, it still caused you to reel back slightly. You knew you couldn't just leave, so you forced yourself to stay still as Ghost reached towards you to grab your wrist in a firm hold. He brought your wrist close to his nose so he could capture your scent adequately, only releasing a deep chuff before slowly letting your wrist fall back to your side. The large apex released his own chuff before drawing in a breath. "H-Hallo omega, or (Y/N) w-which ever you want us to call you. If you even want us to use your name." His stuttering surprised you; how could this large apex even stutter? There was no reason for his nervousness, or so you thought.

Keegan stepped forward, touching the larger alpha's enormous bicep. "Take it easy, König; I doubt she's gonna bite you, right, Doll?" His joking tone helped ease the remaining tension in the room. 'At least these guys could take and make jokes,' You thought as you gave Keegan a toothy smile. "Only if you want me to, big guy." Giving the apex a wink, sending his gaze to the floor in embarrassment, and driving a laugh out of Ghost and Keegan.

The new-found atmosphere dissipated once a knock sounded on the other side of the door. Matthew and Hannah were soon looking in to check in on the four of you. "Well, everything is in order; I'm sure you are ready to head home. So we will allow Ms.(Y/N) to say her goodbyes to her parents before you all leave." Oh, that's right; you had forgotten you were being moved out of your parent's home and into your shared home with these alphas. Looking back at your parents, you caught sight of your Dam trying to clean up her remaining tears. While your Sire attempted to keep a stone face for you. Lunging towards them, your Dam and Sire tangled you up in their arms, whispering, "It will be ok little love; you'll see us again." "Please text us at least so we know your adjusting, ok?"

It broke your heart to leave them, but you all knew this was in your best interest. Drawing back from them, you reached to wipe away a few stray tears on your cheeks. "I love you guys. I'll try and stay in touch, I promise." Your words catch slightly in your throat. Stepping away from your parents, you looked towards the three alphas who stood off to the side, not wanting to rush your goodbye.

Stepping towards them, you stopped when Keegan and König took their places on either side of you. Ghost had left to pull their vehicle around, and as you started walking towards the main entrance, König offered his hand to you. "Don't worry Schatz, we will all die for you as long as it means you are safe." His words send a wave of heat through your body by his bold declaration. With a final look back toward your parents, you offered them a bright grin as you were guided away.

'Everything will be ok."

Tag list: @l-lend, @kelpiesummer, @wintersnnowie, @operatorinvestigatesco, @marytvirgin

Once again this is my first ever series so I apologize if somethings need work, am still a wee babe in the writing world XD

Translations: Schatz (German) - Treasure

[lassieposting]

Also. Since no one else has said it. The owlbear cub is a tiny little baby. Baby animals need to be cared for. Feeding, cleaning and playing with Owlbear Cub will fall on the party, but so will teaching him to be an independent adult owlbear.

As a tiny little baby, he's not going to make that much of a dent in the camp's supplies. But eventually, as he gets bigger, someone is gonna have to teach him to hunt for himself.

And since there are maximum three people in this group who know how to stalk and hunt like animals do, with teeth and claws instead of swords or bows, it's going to fall on Halsin's wildshape, Jaheira's wildshape...and Astarion.

Anyway I like to think Astarion "I killed a bear" Ancunín handles the basics - stealth, camouflage, which veins and arteries to aim for to quickly take down something bigger than you - and the druids in bear form teach Owlbear Cub like. Advanced Hunting Techniques For Large Animals, how to find and defend suitable den sites, how to catch fish, all that other bear stuff.

[sprout-fics]

Hitman 141 would be TERRIFYING, an entity that ppl only whisper about-ESPECIALLY at the mention of Price, or someone being told to stfu if they do dare to utter his name, ppl keeping their heads down everytime 141 enters a room like they're THAT GOOD

Hitman 141 Headcanons

(Call of Duty Masterlist)

Rating: M Wordcount: 800 Tags: Hitman AU / Mercenary AU, Dark 141 Warnings: Brief descriptions of violence and torture A/N: Thank you for the brainworm anon

They don’t go by any name. There’s no title for their unit. 

The living know better than to speak of them

They’re known in the underground only as ‘The Four’

Black paint smears across their gazes, like the hand of the grim reaper has dipped its skeletal fingers in charcoal and tried to blind them

Their eyes gaze forward even so, looking for their next target, their next kill

It’s rare to see any of them, and even rarer to see them all together. When they enter into the secretive enclaves and dens of the world’s finest assassins, a hush falls over the crowd, and you see them grin- knowing that their mere presence invokes fear

They know how to kill men a thousand different ways, they say

There’s no target that’s too large for them

They can disable a government overnight, can sweep in under the cover of darkness and eliminate an entire cabinet in one fell swoop

And yet the depths of their deeds remain entirely unknown, with a finger pressed to lips of their victims before they grow cold

Nobody knows their real names. Those that have tried have failed- and the dead hold their secrets

They do go by names that only the damned dare to whisper

Gaz, their intelligence specialist who leaves no loose ends, who draws secrets from the graves of those who gasp words with their dying breaths

He knows, they whisper, knowing that he has ears everywhere. That even the shadows come to murmur in his ear. His sniper scope finds his targets, and he reads their lips before he fires a killing shot

When he talks to others, his smile is easy, that of a friend. Yet there’s a flicker in his eyes that speaks of a second sight, an ability to bleed words from your mouth before you can stop yourself

“Thanks, mate.” He tells you with a clap to your shoulder, and you watch in dread as he depart, and wonder what have I done?

Soap, their supplier, their demolitions expert, the man who leaves behind only a trail of ash that can’t be traced

He’s the friendliest of them, with his easy going smile and blue eyes. Yet there lurks a darkness in his gaze, a challenge, and you know if you get too close you’ll be incinerated by the flames

He’s rumored to have killed the president of a foreign country- the man dying in a tragic house fire with no discernible cause. They say it was a catastrophe that couldn’t have been stopped

Of course not, not when he created it. He smiled as he watched it burn

Ghost, the assassin, the reaper they say

He fought death, and won, but in his victory his soul is forever held by the grave. 

There’s a hundred different stories about his survival. He was lost in the wilderness and killed a bear to steal its pelt. His feet were poured into concrete and he broke his hands cracking himself free. He dug himself from the grave and took the scythe from the reaper to kill his enemies himself

His figure will be the last thing you ever see. There’s not even time to scream

Red drenches his bone white mask, and behind them stare the eyes of a dead man

Then there’s their leader- Price.

Price, they say, for a price must be given for the lives of those who’ve been killed. It’s a steep cost to deal with him and his men, and even steeper to refuse them

Smoke follows him in a mist, chokes the airways of his victims. There’s a brutality to him that’s untold, hardly restrained, witnessed by few who survive only to see him in their nightmares

The others yield to him, defer to his guidance. There’s rumors he’s immortal, has lived many lives but is cursed to roam the earth like Cain, having slain his own blood and now lives in eternal damnation

He tips his hat to the man he leaves hanging upside down from the rafters, leaving him to a slow and painful death even as he begs for mercy

What they don’t know is that his chosen targets are those that lurk in the dark, festering underbelly of the world- whose crimes damn them before they’re even revealed. The violent, the corrupt, the selfish, the takers of the innocent. None live beyond the sight of one of the four- a vision just before the end

They say they were soldiers once, defenders, warriors

Yet the world betrayed them, set their lives ablaze. In the ashes they were reborn, bent on the destruction of those who wronged them

By bathing in the blood of their enemies, they signed their souls for the devil to keep, bestowing upon them an inhumane darkness they wield at their fingertips

And some day, the devil will come to keep them

[breelandwalker]

Frost Moon - November 26-27, 2023

Grab your scarves and mittens, witches - it's time for the Frost Moon!

Frost Moon

The Frost Moon is the name given to the full moon which occurs in the month of November. In temperate zones in the Northern Hemisphere, November is the month during which the first frost or first hard freeze of the season is usually observed.

Like most full moon names, this is an English translation of a traditional name used by one or more North American indigenous groups, in this case the Cree and the Assiniboine. Similarly, the Anishinaabe and the Ojibwe also called this month the Freezing Moon or Freezing Over Moon respectively, as indigenous naming conventions usually refer to the entire lunar month and not just the full moon itself. Other indigenous names include Deer Rutting Moon (Dakota and Lakota), Whitefish Moon (Algonquin), Leaf Fall Moon (Catawba), and Digging (or Scratching) Moon (Tlingit). The latter refers to the habit of deer and other creatures scratching up the ground to find hidden food caches, as well as bears digging their dens for winter hibernation.

Another common name for this month's full moon is the Beaver Moon, due to the increased sightings of these busy little creatures shoring up their dams and food stores before the first hard freeze of winter. (Unfortunately, it's also a reference to the peak days of the North American fur trade, signaling the optimal hunting time for beaver pelts.)

In some modern pagan traditions, particularly those claiming Celtic lineage, the November moon is also called the Mourning Moon. This occurs when the November moon is the final full moon before the winter solstice. In 2023, the November is indeed a Mourning Moon, as the December full moon falls on the 26th, a good few days after the solstice. (I was not able to find an original source for this claim, but given the celebration of the beloved dead in October, a subsequent period of mourning and remembrance makes sense. It may also be a reference to the Catholic All Souls Day, but that's just speculation.)

This particular Frost Moon will be at peak fullness in the early hours of November 27th (4:16am EST), so the moon may appear to be full on both Sunday the 26th and Monday the 27th, depending on where you live.

What Does It Mean For Witches?

This is the month when migrations are finishing up, animals are finishing their cold weather preparations, the temperature starts to plummet, and fall descends rapidly into winter. If you haven't finished your preparations for winter, mundane or magical, this is probably your last chance to do it. (Don't forget to prioritize and delegate!)

With the days getting shorter and the nights getting colder, the temptation to hunker down and hibernate is STRONG. But we have to remember that just like the eponymous Beaver, humans have to stay active during the cold months. Start stockpiling ways to keep yourself busy and motivated, since that Seasonal Slump is on the horizon for many of us.

Consider also the beaver's dam. You've spent the whole year working towards all kinds of goals. Is there still something blocking your way? What might it be and how can you best address and remove the obstacle? Or, alternatively, is it time to stop and rest and see if that roadblock will clear itself with a little time and patience?

In keeping with the Mourning Moon moniker, this could be a good time for reflection and remembrance. Think back on what you've built this year and take time to be proud of yourself. Remember what is dear to you, take a moment to miss someone who is gone, and consider rekindling bonds that may have lapsed or grown tenuous during the hustle and bustle of daily life. It's always a good time to tell someone you love them.

On a practical note, if you have pets that regularly stay outdoors overnight, start bringing them inside or make sure they have a shelter that is properly warm, clean, and secure against human or animal intruders. If it's too chilly for you to be out without a coat, it's too chilly for the critters, fur or no fur. PLEASE do not leave your furry friends out in the cold!

What Witchy Things Can We Do?

As we prepare for winter, this is an excellent time to shore up those magical protections. Check on your longterm spells to see if they need refreshing, or just go ahead and do a quick cleanse-and-reclaim as a proactive measure. Even if everything is solid, practice your technique by shoring up points of egress or adding a new layer to the existing wards or trying a new visualization or method for personal protections. Create a new charm or talisman to carry you through the winter or make something festive and decorative that could be given as a gift.

On the subject of cleansing, this is a good time to clear out any stale or disruptive energy that might be lingering from the recent change of seasons. Solstices can be times of transformation, but change is rarely a calm or peaceful process and it brings its' own set of challenges and upheavals. If things have gotten a little more chaotic than you'd like, take a moment to put your house in order, metaphysically speaking.

If you're partial to jar spells, consider putting one together to help maintain safety and abundance through the winter months. If you're going to be traveling for the upcoming holidays, a bit of luck and protection for the journey wouldn't go amiss either.

Try a frost divination. If your area is starting to see overnight frosts, take a moment in the morning to examine the patterns that the frost leaves on the windows of your home or vehicle. Do you see any patterns or images in the ice crystals? Check the weather forecast and whisper a question into the wind when the overnight temps will drop below freezing. Then in the morning, see if there's an answer waiting for you!

Happy Frost Moon, witches! 🌕❄

Further Reading:

Additional Lunar Calendar posts

Full Moon November 2023: The Beaver Moon's Spectacular Spiritual Meaning, The Peculiar Brunette.

Beaver Moon: Full Moon in November 2023, The Old Farmer's Almanac.

Beaver Full Moon in November - Buckle and Hocken, TimeAndDate.com.

Everyday Moon Magic: Spells & Rituals for Abundant Living, Dorothy Morrison, Llewellyn Publications, 2004.

Image Credit - iStockPhoto.

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[probablyspooky]

Sweets (Predator x Reader)

You're sick and want a simple request

During the heat of the summer season, a woman sees out into her field, no wind was blowing, it was a perfect summers day. She sat upon her chair, and rocked back and forth, waiting for her sons to return from schooling at the school house.

But to her surprise, she watched her plot of strawberries start to move, no wind present. Thinking a pest was rummaging around, she grabbed her bat and began to walk towards her patch of sweet berries.

Once she was close enough, her eyes must have been playing tricks on her, as it seemed they were being ripped by the bunches, floating through the air, and disappearing.

In her fear, her heart caused her to move without thinking, and she swung her bat in the area where the strawberries seemed to move, it did not budge, and the bat seemed to stop in the air, but it definitely hit something.

The object the bat had hit, it began to sparkle, as if revealing a picture, one by one, little sections glowed and dimmed, eventually revealing a monster.

Over 7 feet tall, his long dreads down by his side, a mask covering his face, with a metal she had never seen before.

Falling to the ground in horror, she screamed and proceeded to run into her house, most likely to get her gun. But when she returned, it was gone, alone with a whole bush out strawberries ripped found the ground.

Word spread around town that a beast had stolen a bush of berries from the ladies farm, and many went out to find this beast, none were able to track down his location. They did find the bush however, plucked clean of its berries.

Giving up on the hunt, they all went home, as did the beast.

Now the beast was as strong as a bear, most likely stronger, but he had a soft spot. As he approached his cave den, dropping his spear weapon, and any other sharp objects, he continued deeper to his nest.

In his nest of pelts and furs, laid a human, you, red with fever, sweaty from fighting it, and even weaker than ever. He squatted down low, hovering above your frame. Taking his long finger, and tracing the curve of your chin, trying to get your attention.

Opening your eyes, you were greeted with the sight of your mate, you wanted to sit up and hug him, but you felt so heavy, so hot, you didn't dare move.

He understood your sickness, and was trying to make you feel better, reaching to his side, a leather bag was tied to him. Untying the knot at the top, he reached his hand in and pulled out a plump red strawberry.

You began to smile, he had remembered your favorite fruit, and went to town to get them for you. You didn't dare ask how he got them, or if anyone else saw him get them, you didn't want to think very hard, as he clicked, signaling you to open your mouth, and as you did, he placed the cold juicy fruit onto your tongue, allowing you to take a bite.

The sweetness of the fruit made you feel better, as many things you had to eat now were meant to keep your strength up, you were happy for a small treat from him.

"T-thank you...", you mumbled weakly, as he sat in the nest next to you, placing his arm around you and sitting you up on him

Taking small bites, he fed you the entire bag, along with giving you water, and necessary cuddles, he waited on you to feel better.

He wouldn't care if anyone saw him anyway, as you were his main priority.

[treedaddymcpuffpuff]

JOHN WICK WIPS (INSPO FROM THE BRILLIANT @scarlettspectra) ; READ TW 🕊️

──────── #1 SAVE ME, JW

“You want me to leave you alone, don’t you?” You’re willing to let this one slide, despite the trouble you’ll get in later for it. Maybe a few bruising slaps, nothing you can’t handle. 

“You can’t now.” 

You look at him strangely. “I can.”

“Your boss is expecting you to deliver.” 

You wonder how he knows all this, how he can be casual about it. 

“Look at me.” You grin, unbothered, only a little frightened of consequences and repercussions. “You think I’m not used to losing?” 

He does look at you, really, and it makes you shudder. Underneath all that grief is slaughter. Bodies piled and burning. Your mouth runs dry and the grin falls. “What are you here for?” 

He wipes alcohol from his bottom lip. “Your boss.” 

You prickle. “Please.” He betrays no sympathy, so you try again. “Please don’t. I need to protect them.” 

“Den mother?” He asks.

You look over your shoulder to the oblivious family you’ve grown to love. Men and women in scantily clad outfits just trying to live in this fucked up world.

“Yeah,” you nod, taking a huge drink of alcohol to numb the future.

It doesn’t help. 

He puts his hand on your arm, steadying the shakes. “I won’t let anyone hurt you.”

You find yourself laughing despite the gravity of the situation. “You’re one man. He’ll have you killed, and we’ll get caught in the crossfire.” 

He tips down the last of his drink. “Get them out.”

“And then he’ll come looking for me,” you hiss, leaning on the table with your head in your hands.

He says, without a crumb of doubt: “no he won’t.” 

──────── #2 NONCON ; DEAD DOVE ; DARK DARK DARK JW

There’s black hellfire in his eyes, a dark promise to make you sorry for your miserable little John-free existence, and, for a second, you resign to the notion that he is going to keep his iron grip around your suffocating throat until you pass out. Your vision is already blurring and darkening, claws scratching pitifully at his arms. A little woodland creature in a big bear trap. 

But, he lets you go, dropping you right on the hard floor, and you land on your ass, gasping for air, face soaked from tears, dress ripped down the middle. He jams his pointy shoe in between your legs, pressing the tip into your cunt, hurting you. 

“John, please,” you whimper through gritty teeth, trying to push his leg away and only getting a big black dress shoe crushing your pussy as reward. 

Your head flips back, neck craning just enough to put agonizing tension on your scalp and spine. His fist nets what feels like every tearing hair on your head, and you can’t help but screech in pain. 

“Please,” he repeats, voice eerily calm even as he’s shoving his fingers down your throat and making you choke. He pulls out and leaves thick white spit dripping onto your pouty lips and chin. He smears the excess on your cheek and smiles down at you - almost lovingly - “you’re begging already? Fucking pathetic.” His foot digs deeper into your sensitive pussy and you let out a cry, proving his point. 

“Oh, I missed this tight little cunt,” he sighs and closes his eyes as if talking to himself. “Thought about her every fucking day.” 

“John, I’m sorry, I-“ 

“Shut up.” He slaps you on the cheek, hard enough to leave a big red welt, then lugs you up by your hair. He doesn’t bother to move his leg, so your bare skin scrapes raw on the rough fabric of his pants. “The only thing that’s gonna come out of that pretty mouth from now on is ‘yes, John.’”

He spins you around, manhandles you onto the counter, presses his cock into the cotton of your panties and slaps your ass harder than he had done to your face. He watches your plump jiggle and retract, wets his lips, grunts. “Did you hear me, baby?” He slaps the same spot, and you yelp and claw at the counter. 

“Yes, John.” The phone is right beside your head, you see the screen light up with worried texts from your friends, asking if you’re home yet. You could try and pick it up, call someone, dial 911, but this is John, and you know there’s not a chance in hell you could touch that phone without him crushing it in one grip. 

“Oh?” He sees where your eyes are, of course he does. He’s a fucking lethal predator, and you’re just a stupid girl. “You wanna call somebody to come save you? Do it. Call them. But you’re gonna watch attentively while I kill them all, I can promise you that, honey.”

──────── #3 HOUSE PET

The cute baby blue collar around your squishy, bruised neck - and how can he help but mark you up? It’s so easy to dig his teeth into your skin and latch on.

The cream-pink cheeky underwear nestled tight to your flesh, hidden under a mid thigh denim skirt. 

The delicate bralette, useless in caging your heavy, bouncing breasts - even with the aid of the tight pink camisole.

Just for him, an opaque, creamy white, mock garter hugging your thighs and making the fat bulge and jiggle over the snug tops. 

John wants to lap at that flesh like you would with melting ice cream from the cone. 

He tugs on your little leather leash. The one accessory on your body that’s not pastel and sickly feminine. This shiny lead indicates that the tether between your neck and his hand belongs solely to him.

Adorable cuffs around your wrists and ankles - color made to match collar. 

His hands, so steady and thick, inching up your inner thighs and making you giggle and twitch. 

He knows you’re so very ticklish right in the crease of your thighs. So adorable trying to squirm away from him even though you know it’s completely useless. 

“Johnny, stop it,” you gurgle, slapping at his plucking and pinching fingers. 

His mouth contradicts his rough hands, giving you tiny, loving kisses all over your hot face. His smile melts you into a pliant doll, ready to be played with.

At his total mercy - eager to be at his total mercy - not one vulnerability he doesn’t see and latch onto, yet so completely safe and sheltered under him. Like standing in the eye of a tornado, or being a sucker fish on the side of a big great white. 

You card your hands through his silky hair, pushing it out of his face and pushing your caged cunt up into his teasing thumb. “I love you.” 

“I love you.” He licks at your lips and you open for him, ready to be devoured and left breathless from his mouth.

──────── #4 THAT FUCKIN WHITE HENLEY

“Good boy,” I say, “good boy. Who’s my good boy, huh?” 

The tiny Italian greyhound bounces high enough to kiss my face, and I’m giggling in delight. “Yes! You’re my good boy. Go get it!” I throw the ball and he’s gone in a flash, fast a lightning, legs moving so swift I can’t even see them under his little body. 

I turn back to the house, where John is situated on our little deck and fixing the grill up.

Instead of coming to me, Oz runs to Dad, and drops the ball at his feet. 

My husband picks it up, shows it to Oz, then shows it to me, still leaning down, the upper half of his torso partially obscured by porch rails. 

He smiles at me, eyebrow raised.

“Yeah, yeah,” I call over, giggling, “you throw better than me!”

He looks back at the dog. “Don’t be mean to your mom, Oz. It’s not her fault she sucked at gym class.”

Ozzie barks, uninterested in our banter, all eyes for his toy, and I laugh, mouth popping open in mock offensive gesture. “I’m sorry we can’t all be built for high impact sports.” I stick my tongue out at John, and earn a soft chuckle.

He stands up, brushes his blue jeans off and - oh - I haven’t seen this shirt before. 

It’s just a damn shirt, and I’ve seen this man at least more than a couple times completely naked, so why am I salivating while he saunters up to me to hand me the ball. Oz, blissfully ignorant to the tension between us, happily trots after him.

He puts the ball in my hand, grins at me. “Thought you’d never wake up, sunshine.” 

“I-uh-had a long night.” My cunt gives a diabolical throb. The thick fingers handing me the toy were the same ones scissor fucking my sopping cunt only a few hours ago. 

“Poor baby,” he tsks, leaning down to kiss my head. 

That fucking shirt. White, marled Henley with the v cut out so his chest can wink teasingly at me. Something about it makes me pulse in more places than my loving heart. 

“Wear’d you get this shirt?” I ask him.

“You like it?” He says, twisting around so that I can see the taut bend in his waist and the way the fabric rumples and clings against his sinew and tendon.

I feel the urge to chomp down on my knuckle to avoid screaming. 

“You look good,” I say, treading carefully, salivating. Jesus Christ to lord 

His smile is all knowing, mischievous, awful, going straight to my pussy.

“I’m thinking barbecue chicken for lunch,” he says. “Would you like that?”

I’m not crazy, that last sentence is 100% dipped in sin and low toned. My cunt puckers. “Sounds good.” 

He goes back to fixing the grill while I play with Oz. My throws are even worse now that I’m entirely distracted by watching his muscles move under creamy fabric.

Before I know it, he’s got my back pressed up against his front again, big body engulfing me. “Bad news, baby,” he murmurs, kissing my neck.

I giggle as his beard tickles my skin. 

“The grill is out of commission. Let me take you out.” His smile is warm against my shoulder. 

My stomach gives a little growl. “What’d you have in mind?” I ask.

“Whatever you want,” he tells me. 

“Want you,” I tell him, reaching around to feel for the hard bulge under his denim.

He grabs my hand, spins me around, kisses my fingers and then sucks them into his mouth while I make an absolutely fool of myself and moan involuntarily. 

“So impatient,” he tsks, “do I have to spank you again, needy little girl?” 

This isn’t fucking fair.

[1d1195]

Traditional Extra IV

Read Traditional here

A little on the shorter side.

I love to make Harry whiny.

Warnings: angst, fluff, nothing particularly special about this one.

~2k words

"Baby, come on. You’re scaring me,” she said gently. He wanted to throw something. Everything was making him mad; he felt the ache all the way to his bones.

“Y’can’t fix this,” he muttered bitterly.

It was quarter past one. Which meant that she was set to walk into Harry’s office with his cup of tea in her hand. Even though it had been more than a year since her hot beverage accident, she was extremely mindful of turning corners with something that could scald her in her hands. The idea that Harry might fire someone because she was accidentally injured was too much for her to bear. She had her phone pressed between her shoulder and ear. Her cold coffee was in the crook of her arm as she reached for his door.

But instead, all sound stopped at the noise behind it. People paused in their path to the breakroom, the conference room, or back to their offices. The sound of Harry screaming nearly echoed as she looked at the wooden door separating her and her very obvious, very angry boyfriend.

“God bless her,” someone murmured.

“Don’t think I could do it. No matter how cute he is,” she heard another voice whisper. She wondered if she knew they were loud enough for her to hear. Or maybe with the phone pressed to her ear, they didn’t think she was paying attention.

“I’m sorry, I will call you back in half an hour,” she said softly to the phone. There was a response, but she didn’t hear it as she hung up. Niall was back in their office. Probably already looking to solve whatever issue had Harry breaking the sound barrier. Or maybe he was lucky and in another meeting. Maybe this wouldn’t be his problem. But it was definitely going to be part of her problem.

Harry didn’t scare her for the sake of her well-being. She never worried about her safety or whether Harry would harm her in a fit of whatever was causing him distress. The only alarm Harry caused her was the worry that he was going to have an untimely heart attack at such a young age due to his distress. More so, she worried one of these days she wouldn’t be able to fix his problems.

Or that he wouldn’t want her to. One day Harry was going to yell at her. Not purposefully. Not because he was mad at her. But he was going to take his frustration out on her. It was a matter of when not if. Maybe today would be the day.

Turning the knob, she heard everyone behind her collectively hold their breath. They knew she would fix it... probably. She entered slowly, like it was a lion’s den, and she didn’t want to be seen just yet. She closed the door quietly, with a soft click.

Harry was leaning over his empty desk. His computer, his phone, the picture frame with a picture of them from her graduation, all of it was laying shattered and broken to pieces on the floor across the room. His breath was practically panting. She watched him for a few moments: his shoulders rising and falling quickly and dramatically.

Whatever happened obviously made him mad. When Harry was mad, she felt the creeping sense of worry that he would work himself up to a point he couldn’t come back down from and again, worried about his health.

“Harry, baby?” She asked softly after a moment.

“Get. Out.” He seethed. She felt like a knife had been twisted into her heart and she felt like she would cry. Harry never told her to leave or accidentally yelled at her without a pet name attached to it.

He was definitely going to ruin their day. He was going to take out his frustration on her. Today was sure to be the day. She stood silently by the door. Afraid to take another step or make another noise. He still hadn’t turned around. She could see he was still shaking from across the room. Her heart felt so heavy for his worry and discomfort of whatever was hurting him.

In an instant, his cell phone was pressed to his ear. “What?” He snapped. Harry listened for all of twenty seconds before his phone was added to the pile of debris. He took three strides behind his desk and threw his chair toward the rest of his office supplies as well. A hole appeared in the drywall.

That was too much for her. She had to intervene. She was worried he was going to hurt himself at any moment. Swiftly and silently, she made her way to the couch, setting the drinks on the side table before she hurried to Harry’s side before he tried to tip his desk over or something. “Harry,” she whispered softly. He flinched at her touch, yanking from her so violently it almost looked like he smacked her hands away. She blinked in surprise and tried again anyway. “Baby,” her voice was firmer. She pressed her hands on his forearms. He looked at her, still seething with rage. She could see sweat forming at his hairline. Darkening his chocolate curls. His face was flushed red, his arms were clammy to the touch even through his shirt.

“I told you t’get out,” he snapped at her; it was like he wasn’t seeing that it was her.

She nodded understandingly. “I know,” she whispered in agreement. “I know,” she tugged him toward the couch. Despite how angry he was, he let her lead him. Harry stood in front of the sofa still shaking and she paid no mind to it. She pressed him back, so his legs touched the furniture and he had no choice but to sit. She crouched in front of him.

He was intimidating. Even to her, she couldn’t help but feel the adrenaline running through her blood, her heart fluttering nervously that she was going to make matters worse and just upset him more.

But his typically gentle, green eyes turned nearly black—his pupils dilating to fit nearly the entirety of his irises with how angry he felt. His breath was a bit raspy. His muscles were practically rippling as his hands and arms shook. Even just sitting there.

“Baby, come on. You’re scaring me,” she said gently. He wanted to throw something. Everything was making him mad; he felt the ache all the way to his bones. “Put your head between your knees please.”

“Y’can’t fix this,” he muttered bitterly.

“Harry, please just let me try,” she whispered softly. “Just five minutes and then I’ll leave, and you can set the office on fire,” she promised. Harry grunted in response, and she guided his hands behind his head, his elbows rested on his thighs. She rubbed his back soothingly. “Deep breath,” she whispered. He placated her and took a deep breath, but it sounded shallow. “What happened?” She asked softly.

He shook his head. He could feel tears pricking his eyes.

“Harry, baby,” she murmured. “Talk to me, please. Should I get Niall?”

He took another breath. “I lost a client. A huge one. S’going to...” his breath was shaky as he exhaled. “Kitten, s’bad,” he mumbled.

She frowned. “Oh, love,” she whispered. “I’m sorry, so sorry.”

He picked his head up and looked at her. “M’sorry I yelled at you,” he muttered. “I’m...”

She shook her head. “It’s okay, I know it’s not about me.”

“I shouldn’t yell at you. Ever. You only try t’help. Always,” he looked so dejected. “I...I have t’find a new client or I’ll have t’make cuts next quarter.”

“Okay, so we’ll find one,” she whispered.

He wanted to snap but it was his angel touching him so gently. Trying to comfort him as best she could. He couldn’t hear it. He shook his head. “S’not that simple, kitten,” her positivity was admirable, but he was so mad, so sad. This was a huge deal. A huge letdown.

She sat beside him and grabbed his hand. She twined their fingers together and she looked over at the pile he made of all his electronics and the chair. With a squeeze of his hand, she rested her head on his arm. “Whatever it is Harry, I’ll be right beside you,” she promised.

He turned toward her. “Kitten, I might...have t’fire you.”

She felt her heart flutter, but she nodded looking at their hands. “It’s just a job,” she whispered.

“Love...”

“Harry, I have you. A job... at your company.” she shrugged. “It’s just a bonus.”

“I might lose a lot of money.”

“I’m not with you for money,” she promised with a smirk.

He looked at her, his eyes were red around the corners. His face was withdrawn. He was handsome as ever; even as broken as he felt. “You would love me...if I was broke?”

“I would love you even if you didn’t have a porch swing.”

He pressed a kiss to her forehead. “M’so in love with you. So...” he shook his head. “Hopeless for you,” he murmured. “Don’t deserve you,” he mumbled. “You’re too good,” he nosed at her temple. “I’m sorry, kitten.”

She shook her head. “You don’t need to apologize to me.” He looked at her. So sad. Poor thing. Her heart ached to make it better. The first thing she was going to do when she got back to her office was tell Niall as much as she could, and begin searching for a new client. Then probably order Harry new furniture. He stayed silent. His anger settled into sadness. He felt so dejected.

Sighing softly, she cupped his face. He looked so sad. “Do you know you told me you loved me when you were sick?”

He looked up at her curiously. “What?” He momentarily forgot about the turmoil he felt about his company.

“You were delirious,” she smiled. Harry thought she looked like an angel. He swore she had been sculpted by an artist. Even when he felt so terrible, she was just so pretty. It felt like he was healing. “You were falling asleep and just told me you loved me,” she shrugged.

“So y’knew all that time,” he murmured with a smirk toying at his lips. It was weird how he could make him feel better. Even at a time like this.

She nodded excitedly with an impish grin. “Yeah...” she smirked.

“And y’still thought I didn’t love you with m’whole heart after that? That I wouldn’t have...” He rolled his eyes as he trailed off.

She giggled and shrugged. “People can say crazy things when they’re sick.”

He looked at her. “I love you.”

“I’m aware,” she said cutely. If she had a free hand, she would have flipped her hair behind her shoulder. Harry laughed at her, shook his head so his nose bumped hers. “I love you,” she whispered.

“Say it again,” he murmured, his eyes getting this dreamy, far-off look. His chest felt warm. Part of him never wanted to leave this couch. He never wanted to move. The idea of dealing with what was in store for him seemed so bleak.

She was never bleak. She was perfect. She made everything better, even when he didn’t want her to. “I love you,” she repeated effortlessly. “So much. No matter what. No matter how much money you have or how many porch swings you buy me.”

He cupped her face and leaned so his lips just barely brushed hers. “Don’t know how I did this without you before,” he murmured.

“You’ll never have to do it again,” she promised.

Harry was dreading getting a new phone and a new computer, knowing how bad it was about to get. But somehow her ability to worm her way into his heart and his brain made him believe, even for a moment, that it would be okay.

Or maybe it was just the taste of her lips between his that made him believe.

--

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