#but I drew him in the woods trail I always go to to Really listen to him

[designedtoendure]

🌾💐🪵

[snaillamp]

Sicktember - day 2

So my assessments are nearly finished and exam season is literally right around the corner, but i have managed to smash out a few days. I really like all the prompts and will do them all, but I'm putting uni first rn. Enjoy as always!

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2. Quest for a Cure

Arin walked through the forest, glancing around the shadowy trees. He was brave, but even he feared the Dead Woods. Many things lived amongst the skeletal trees, human and not, and some even said unnatural creatures walked the cursed ground.

A twig snapped behind Arin, who whirled around, drawing his sword and glancing into the growing dark of the evening. There was nothing there...

Something pricked his the back of his neck, Arin’s hand flying up to his neck and pulling out the dart. He already began to feel woozy as he dropped it into the mud. Turning around, he continued to walk, fat raindrops falling from the dark, purple clouds that vibrated the ground with their thunder. Lightning streaked across the sky and made it easier to see but…

Arin’s stomach dropped.

There was a figure in his path.

His hair stuck to his forehead as he drew his sword, the rain trailing down his skin into his eyes. He wiped them for just a second and when he looked back up, the figure was gone. Holding his sword up, ready to fight, he panted in the rain. The adrenaline was coursing through his body as he stepped into a puddle, his foot sinking into it. Looking down, Arin yanked his foot out, and managed to raise his sword just in time to block the movement hurtling out of the darkness in the corner of his eye. He managed to fend off the person, sending it melting back into the shadows, before another attacked.

Swords flashed as Arin fought them off, grunting as he blocked attack after attack, the rapidly fading light and rain making it hard to see… Something hit him in the chest, sending him flying backwards into the ground. Landing on his back with a thud, Arin could see cloaked figures standing over him, laughing as they discussed what to do with him, one of them pressing their foot hard into his chest, crushing his ribs.

Some wanted to kill him right there, others wanted to keep him and others wanted to use him… Arin gasped as he tried to breathe, winded as he lay in the mud, unable to get up. Right as the bandits had made their decision, a loud thunder clap echoed around them. The very earth seemed to shake as the bandits looked up, the air suddenly still as they heard a squeaking sound. The cloaked figures talked amongst themselves as Arin’s vision started to blur, before they scattered.

The last thing Arin saw was another figure, holding an old, rusted lantern. The flame inside flickered and danced, enchanting Arin as he began feeling light headed. The pressure lifted from his chest, but he was already gone.

The figure watched as his eyes rolled back in his head, and he went limp with a sigh.

~~

Arin awoke in a soft, comfy bed. He inhaled slowly, smelling pleasant herbs as he opened his eyes. He hadn’t realised that someone was dabbing his head with a damp cloth. Moaning tiredly, he tried to figure out where he was, his body shivering from cold, despite the sound of a fireplace crackling nearby.

“Shhhh… rest. You are badly poisoned.” Arin grunted as he tried to sit up. His chest ached, and looking down he noticed his clothes were gone. There were some bandages wrapped around his neck, across his chest and arms, firm and tight. He grasped at them, looking around for his clothes. He needed to get going, he needed… pain overcame him as he was roughly pushed back with a gnarled, bony hand.

He landed with a gasp against the soft pillows, head spinning. “Stay still. You are not well.” Arin looked over at the figure tending to them. “Who are you…?” He asked, his throat dry and aching. “It does not matter who I am, but what I can do for you. And right now I’m helping, so lie still.”

Arin coughed, listening to the ragged, old sounding voice hum gentle songs. He was so cold, but he was sweating so much, his bandages already so wet. He groaned as a wave of nausea hit him, making everything sway. “Hmm… worse than I thought. Will need more tincture.” The figure left his side, Arin turning his head to take in the tiny cabin he was in.

It was warm and inviting, if not a little messy. Drying herbs and flowers hung from the ceiling like garlands, strange carvings etched into the beams in the ceiling and the frames in the doorway. Even the window ledge was delicately carved with beautiful, curving runes.

There were skin rugs on the floor and skulls and bones scattered around tables everywhere, empty glass bottles and tubes peeking out amongst bowls full of herbs half ground into powders, shelves of books and jars and tubes full of strange liquids, powders and objects.

A large fireplace flickered at the other rend of the cabin, a cauldron hanging over it, bubbling away with something inside spitting up droplets of something. The hunched figure shuffled over to it, stirring it a little before going back to a table, rummaging around and mixing up a potion. They poured it into a long, thin tube, bringing it over Arin. “Drink.”

Arin frowned at the strange smelling liquid in the tube. It was an amber colour, with what looked like tiny fibrous specs floating around in it. “Uhh…”

The figure thrust it at him. “Drink.” They insisted, holding it up to Arin’s parched lips. Before Arin could turn his head, the figure pulled open his mouth, chucking the content of the tube into the back of his throat. Arin cough and spluttered, swallowing the liquid.

“Hey…” He coughed, “What did you do that for…?” The figure pulled back his blankets, exposing his chest, before pulling the bandages free. As they lifted them off Arin, he noticed the pussy, yellow stains on them. Lifting his fingers towards the back of his neck, he tried to feel the extent of the injuries, but the bony hand grabbed it, holding it tightly.

For an elderly hermit, the figure sure had a lot of strength. “Don’t touch, it will get infected. I need to clean it.” They shoved Arin onto his left side, and touched an ice cold cloth to his neck. It sent shivers down Arin's spine and he yelped, smelling the potent scent of a strong herb that burned his nostrils a little. It was a crisp, fresh scent, like the forest itself was being dabbed on his neck.

His back was exposed and pricked as cold liquid dripped over his skin, if he didn't feel cold before, he did now. The figure sat him back up, causing Arin to feel lightheaded again. The last thing he remembered was falling sideways, two strong, bony hands catching him and holding him up…

He awoke in much the same situation as before, bandages reapplied and cloth with warm herbal water being dabbed on his body, except this time it was on his exposed chest and arms.

“You’re awake… Good, good, good, good…” The voice of the figure mumbled, seemingly to itself. “Where am I?” Arin managed to whisper, his tongue feeling fat like a slug in his mouth as his words slurred.

“My home.” The figure replied, looking at Arin.

For the first time, Arin could actually see the features of the figure’s face. It appeared to be a man, with a long, sharp, thin nose arching down his face and two, deep, dark eyes. Thin lips were curled into a gentle smile and tattoos were etched into his old, weathered skin.

A thin, black line trailed down the centre of his forehead, from the top of his hairline to the end of his nose. Under his eyes, a line stretched from the inner corners, diagonally across his cheeks, and stemming from each of those lines, another line trailed down from roughly the middle of the diagonal lines, straight down to the man’s jawline. The markings were exactly symmetrical on each side. The man’s features Arin of an owl, so serene and deadly at the same time, an intensity that shook Arin to his core.

“Who are you…?” He breathed, taking in the man’s sliver hair, pulled back and decorated with delicate braids and beads. Arin swore he could see a feather peeking out over his shoulder.

“Who are you?” The man cooed back, mischievously, his face pulling into a wiry smile. “My name is… Thora.” Arin lied, using his father’s name. He knew better than to give his real name to people in these parts, especially a magician like this. “Thora. Old name, good, strong name. Yes… I am Haynar.” Arin recognised the name, Haynar was a name used by druids to mask their true identities. Laying back in the bed, Arin tensed. Druids were supposed to be almost extinct, their beliefs long forgotten. They only existed as chapters in books and ancient carvings in trees and rocks.

“You know me.” Haynar murmured, grinning. “Not many are educated in the old ways, Thora.” They sat in silence, delirium setting in as Arin’s eyes rolled around in their sockets, looking at figures creeping around in the shadows, at one point, Haynar’s faceactually becoming a beautiful white owl’s. The owl-man blinked slowly at him, Arin getting lost in his bird eyes as he stood and replaced the blankets. “Rest…” He whispered, looking at Arin as he passed out again.

He felt as if he was floating.

It was dark and cold when he awoke again, shooting up from his place in the bed, panting and sweating. “Good. You’re alive.” The voice of the old man, Haynar sounded across the cabin. “You got worse, I feared you might not make it. I am glad to be proven wrong.” Arin’s eyes moved around the cabin, finding Haynar crouched over the fire, his leathery hands throwing a few small logs onto the flames.

“How long have I been here?” Arin whispered, feeling quite breathless. He lay back down in the bed, breathing hard and fast. Each breath he took, despite being larger than the first felt like less and less air. He felt faint as his vision blurred, his eyes growling vacant as he teetered in the brink of passing out. His eyes rolled in his head as the old man came over and placed a hand on his forehead, Arin feeling the touch callouses graze his skin as he fought to keep his eyes open.

He tried sucking in a breath over and over, but nothing was working.

“Calm, you must slow your breathing…” Haynar’s voice was low and haggard. Arin tried to tell him he couldn't, but the now familiar feeling of passing out creeping into his mind… Haynar began to whisper words.

They were strange, unlike any Arin had heard before, echoing in his mind. A warmth washed over him, like a fuzzy cloud of hazy tranquility, warm and soft, it was ecstasy compared to how he had felt minutes before. Arin moaned, unable to stop himself, half out of relief, half out of pleasure, as he shut his eyes. But he didn't pass out.

Haynar stood with his hand on Arin’s forehead, humming a little tune and whispering his words as Arin lay still, feeling the breath come back into him.

He gasped greedily, feeling his chest inflate and deflate with a shaky, thankful breaths. “Breathe in slowly.” Haynar directed him, taking very slow, deep breaths to guide Arin’s own breathing. Arin copied, deep groans leaving him with each breath as he came back to himself. Haynar lifted his hand and the sensation faded as fast as it had appeared, Haynar's whispering now a memory in Arin’s mind.

Arin lay there, blinking and mumbling as the world stopped spinning, but he hadn’t even noticed it had started in the first place.

He nodded slowly, trying to keep his eyes open, despite his body’s determination to roll them back into his head again. He ended up going cross-eyed, head bobbing slightly are he tried to stay awake.

Pain came crashing back down into him, as if a huge boulder had been dropped on his chesy. He groaned, breath shuddering as he blinked, finally able to get a grip on reality. Squeezing his eyes shut, he opened them again and looked at Haynar’s leathery, wrinkled face.

“…nnh… what’s happening to me….?” He asked, tired and cold.

“You are fighting off the Ganeri bandit’s poison, it is potent and you were already weak from travel. Rest for a few days, then continue on your journey.”

Arin sighed, “How long have I been here?” He asked again. “A few days, the fourth is about the end. You awoke on the third night twice and just now. You are too weak to move, so don’t bother trying.” He muttered, turning around and fiddling with some herbs hanging from the ceiling. He picked some leaves, taking them to the fire where he opened that cauldron and stirred it, tossing the leaves in. Grabbing a spoon from a table, Haynar brought it over to Arin and pulled up a chair. Holding out a spoon he had got from somewhere, he picked up some of the thick soup.

“No thank you, I can’t ask that of you.” Arin refused, trying to sit. He looked down, realising why he felt so cold. His chest was now completely bare, no bandages or anything. His hand danced to the back of his neck, where he felt the remnants of a flaking scab. Haynar must have seen the flicker of confusion on his face, because he laughed, Arin noticing his mouth containing only a few teeth. “My magic is strong, it will heal you fast, now eat, you need strength if you will fight this.”

Arin obeyed, eating the soup that Haynar fed him. It tasted nice, salty, slightly sweet and full of different herbs and spices, mostly ones Arin didn’t recognise. “So what is a fine, young warrior doing wandering around and getting shot by Ganderi?”

Arin lay back his shoulders against the lowest part of the bed's headboard, sighing. He tilted his head back, staring at the ceiling and wincing, a tingling cold crawling up his body. “Neughhn… I…” He tried to speak but the cold overcame him, sending shivers down his spine. Hie eyes grew heavy as he blinked slowly. Haynar sat him up further, lifting him with ease despite his appearance.

“Mmmn…” Arin squeezed his eyes shut as he waited for the cold to leave him. “My village… The water has become corrupted. I was told… Agh…” He winced as he took in a breath, his chest hurting. “Hmm, your ribs are still delicate, take your time.” Haynar said, placing a hand on Arin’s bare chest. He hadn’t realised how warm the druid’s hands felt until now.

“Our water… it’s corrupted with sickness. I was told that hidden in this forest… there’s a cure… AGH!” Sitting was proving to be too painful, so Arin slid himself back down. He took a moment to recover as Haynar fed him more soup, before continuing. “They say there’s a cure in this forest, something called The Eye. It is said to cure any disease or affliction and lift any curse or spell… I am searching for it, so that we may live through winter. We can't water our crops and our wells are toxic, may are ill and some have even died, mostly elders and young children…” Arin looked sad, remembering helping his ailing father dig the graves for the people who had been lost.

Haynar nodded, looking somber. “Unfortunate that such a noble quest has been so savagely interrupted.” He looked at Arin with a glint in his eye. “Hm, quite a shame.” He chucked standing and placing the now empty bowl on a stack of other bowls stacked haphazardly.

“You wouldn’t happen to know where The Eye is?” Arin asked, sitting again and leaning forward hopefully. Haynar might be his only chance to find it and save everyone he could. Haynar looked over his shoulder and pursed his lips. “Heh, there is no Eye, never has been. The Eye is merely a myth made up by desperate people to hold out hope until an inevitable demise. They use it to pretend that the end will never come, but it always does.” Arin’s heart dropped as his shoulders drooped.

“Hm, I do know of some cures, but it will come at a price.” Arin looked up, hope foolishly renewed, despite his knowing that a deal like this with a druid was dangerous. He chose his words next carefully. “What do you want?” Haynar turned, laughing maniacally, shuffling over to Arin. “Prove to me that you deserve my help.” The druid smiled, tattoos bending as he smiled his more gap than tooth grin.

“How do I do that?” Arin whispered, confused. “Easy, I help good, deserving and just people. Prove to me you are good, deserving and just. I am old, when you are well, stay a few days, help me prepare for the winter approaching.” Arin let out a breath he hadn’t realised he had been holding. That didn't sound so bad.

“Fine, it’s a deal.” They shook on it, Arin finally giving in to his aching body’s demands and falling back into the soft bed.

Haynar chuckled softly, tucking him in as he rolled onto his side and fell into a deep, deep sleep.

~~

The gentle rays of warm, golden sun woke Arin in the morning. He grunted, enjoying the warm light on his exposed shoulders. Pulling the sheets down a little, he let the light dance across his chest, noticing that his ribs felt much better. He lay ther, eyes shut, soaking in the sun for a while, the cabin silent.

Just as he was dozing off, the cabin door was opened, before Haynar trudged in, letting it slam shut behind him. Arin jerked in shock, rolling over and looking around. Haynar smiled sympathetically. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you. I suppose it is time you got up though.” Arin rubbed his face tiredly, pushing himself up and shining his legs over the bed. He looked at his pants, the only thing Haynar had left on him, stained with mud and blood. He took a moment, blinking slowly as the world spun around him a little. “Take your time, the day is young.” Haynar mumbled from across the cabin, rummaging through a basket.

Arin stood, wobbling a little before steadying himself, then taking some steps. His feet hurt from the days of walking he had done, his best letter boots long worn out. Haynar finished rummaging, picking up a piece of cloth and throwing it at Arin. It hit him squarely in the chest, before he caught it, his shirt that he had been wearing before the attack. It was clean and soft, smelling pleasantly of wildflowers. Gingerly shrugging it on, Arin pulled it down his torso, the fabric resting loosely around his frame. He had lost weight under the care of the druid.

Running his hand through his hair, he smiled at Haynar who pulled out his socks and boots from the same place. “Put these on, then meet me outside.” The druid ordered, handing Arin his things. The man glanced around, hoping to find his sword, but he couldn’t see it.

He put on the rest of his clothes before following Haynar outside. The man stood by a large barrel of potatoes beside a wooden stool, a knife embedded in it. Haynar moved the stool down in the sun and yanked out the knife, handing it to Arin.

“Sit, peel my potatoes so I can pickle them. The sun will do you some good, too.” The druid directed, pointing at the large barrel. Arin sighed, this would take all day, but he nodded, taking a seat and picking a potato up.

After a couple of potatoes were peeled, Haynar brought over a small basket. “Put them in here, then carry them over to me, I’ll be in that shack over there.” He pointed to a small, wooden shack, barely standing as it leaned heavily to one side.

It looked like one slight breeze would send it tumbling over. Heavy moss dangled down from the roof, making it bend in the middle, and seemly causing the building to sink into the ground.

Arin nodded, peeling more potatoes. As he looked at the mountain of them in the barrel. He wondered where the druid had managed to get so many, there were enough here to feed him for ages, you could easily give everyone in his small village at least two…

He glanced over at the smaller basket, breaking his train of thought.

It was full.

Grunting, Arin pushed up from the stool and picked up the basket. It was heavier than he thought, though he was probably weakened from the whole fighting off a deadly poison thing. Carrying the basket over to the shed, Arin dropped it on the ground, huffing and puffing. That journey should have been easy for him to do… He hated being so weak.

Shoving the door open, he felt the rusted hinges grind as they turned, the door squeaking loudly. Haynar was in the behind a table that took up most of the shed, laying out many, many glass jars. The table was so big the druid had to cram himself between the slanting wall and the edge of the table to even move around it. Ducking under the low doorframe, Arin carried the basket in.

Haynar eyed the potatoes and nodded, “Beautiful work Thora. Just pour them in there.” He pointed at a new barrel, shoved in the corner of the shack. Arin complied, pouring his basket of potatoes into the barrel and going back out to continue peeling.

They repeated the process all day, until Arin’s back and wrists ached from sitting and working all day. He was tired of peeling, carrying the heavy loads to the shack and coming back to repeat it all again. The sun was nice though, warming him up until it began to sink low in the sky. The last of the potatoes were peeled and Arin dragged them to the shack, leaving them in the barrel for Haynar. As he left, he looked at the pile of potatoes peelings almost as high as his knees. “Uh, Haynar, what do you want me to do with the peelings?”

Haynar laughed. “Ah, just put them in the barrel you just emptied, I will deal with them later. Go inside, you have had a long day.” Arin nodded, picking up every last scrap of potato peeling before dragging his feet inside.

He stumbled through the door and walked across the cabin in a couple of seconds, collapsing face first into the small bed. He groaned tiredly, kicking off his boots and pulling off his sweat stained shirt, enjoying the cool breeze flowing through the open door and dancing across his back.

~~

He awoke to the sound of bubbling, a pleasant aroma of herbs and spices filling the cabin. Moaning, he sat up, wiping a little bit of drool from his face. Blinking slowly, he saw Haynar hunched over the pot of whatever it was he was cooking, stirring vigoursly. The druid turned around at the sound of Arin waking up and smiled.

“Ah, you woke up just in time for dinner!” He laughed, grabbing a large spoon and some bowls from a nearby table and filling them with soup. There were chunks of fresh potato in them… “Potato soup, I hope you’re not sick of looking at them.” Haynar chuckled at his own joke, handing a bowl to Arin.

They ate in comfortable silence, Arin enjoying the the way the slightly salted potato melted on his tongue. When he looked down at his bowl, he had eaten everything. He hadn't even noticed... Sitting back on the bed and sighing, he rubbed his bare chest, it didn't hurt as much as it had yesterday. He coughed a little when his hand brushed over a still slightly delicate rib, making him wince a tiny bit.

“Rest.” Haynar spoke, voice low and rasping. He put his hands on Arin’s chest and pushed him back into the bed, tucking him in. “I need more help tomorrow. Get some sleep.”

Arin nodded, eyes already shut. ~~ The day was a little cloudier when Arin awoke the next day. He coughed a little, sliding out of bed and grabbed his shirt off the floor from yesterday. It smelled a bit, but he’d rather wear a smelly shirt than none at all, especially since it looked like it might rain later. Haynar had other ideas.

“No! Take that off, just wait.” The druid spoke up from across the room, making Arin jump. He frowned, pulling his arms out of the shirt and holding it in his lap. “Bring it here.” The druid ordered, Arin obeying. “You look nice and strong, hmm? Help me carry this basket to the river, we will wash clothes today. Maybe you can also wash yourself.” The old man shot Arin a dirty look, before bursting into laughter.

“Don’t look so alarmed, I don’t mind. I live in a forest, child. You think I don’t stink?” He continued, howling with glee as he waddled out the door, Arin picking up the heavy basket and following him outside.

They went down a small path behind the cabin and down to the river. It was more of a narrow stream, but it looked quite deep. “Just there is fine.” The man pointed at a large, flat stone by the stream. “Just sit there, I’ll be back with some things.” Arin nodded, shivering a little as a little breeze whipped around him.

His skin prickled as the cold bit it. Rubbing his arms with his hands, he looked longingly at the shirt he had thrown on top of the pile, but he knew better than to mess with the druid. If he said to do something, he meant it exactly like he wanted, Arin was sure.

The man came back, holding a small basket full of bottles of… stuff. He placed it beside Arin, before sitting cross-legged beside him.

“You soak the clothes, I’ll clean them.” The druid directed, rummaging in the basket. He pulled out a large bottle full of a thick, clear liquid, small flowers suspended inside it. They were tiny, brightly coloured and honestly, beautiful. Arin blinked, tearing his eyes away from the bottle and grabbed the clothes. He dunked them into the water, his eyebrows jumping as his hands plunged into the icy stream. Haynar laughed again. “Bit cold, eh? No matter, we won’t be long.”

Arin continued to wash the clothes, his hands going numb from the cold. Haynar poured the liquid on them and scrubbing them with his hands, before washing off the suds with the stream. Then he lay them on the grass, letting them dry.

The sun came out at one point, warming Arin a little, but soon it was behind the clouds again. Arin's ribs began to ache from hunching over the water, and he moaned softly, rubbing them occasionally when they twinged. Haynar shot him a look every time he did it, his eyes trailing Arin’s body.

He was right though, after 20 minutes or so, they had finished the basket of clothes, which turned out to be mostly Arin’s clothes from his travels. When Arin finished, he walked over to his shirt, touching it. It was slightly damp still, but he’d rather let it dry on him than be in this air any longer.

“Thora. You should bathe.” Haynar pointed at the stream, the water flowing fast by them.

Arin’s facial expression must have said it all, because the druid made a face that seemed to be saying “Just do as I say.”

Arin sighed, so the druid was a pervert then. Walking over to the water, he caught some in his hand and held it out to the druid. “Look, it’s freezing, if I swim in that, I’ll get sick. I’m sorry but no. I’m already cold enough as it is.” He gestured at his half naked form.

“Just get in.” The druid rolled his eyes, turning around. “I’ll get you something warm to wrap yourself in after, how about that?” Arin squinted at Haynar, confused. The druid couldn’t be serious, he wasn’t going to make him bathe in that water?

“Just do it, you’ll thank me later.” The druid called as he wandered up the hill. Arin huffed in frustration, before making sure the druid was far from sight.

When he slipped into the water, he winced. It was ice cold. The stream was quite narrow, Arin could probably have been able to touch the other side with his toes if he lay on his back and held on to the bank with his hands. He wasn’t even waist deep yet, but his feet were already numb. With a sigh, he leaned forward, pushing out into the water, before dunking his head under. It seemed to help his body acclimatise to the temperature, because he was able to at least swim in the water, but he could already feel his teeth chattering.

His body was completely submerged, the tops of his shoulders peaking out of the water as he bobbed up and down. Deciding to get it over with quickly, Arin began to rub his body down, cleaning what he could before he swam back to shore.

The rock he had sat to to clean the clothes suddenly felt hot to the touch as he pulled himself up and out of the water. Lying face down on it Arin closed his eyes, thankful for the warmth soaking into his skin.

He felt a thick blanket land on top of him covering him up and trapping more heat. Grabbing it with shaking blue fingers, Arin pulled the soft, heavy fabric around him, huddling in a ball to try and warm up. He looked up at a splash, seeing Haynar dive happily into the river. The old man surfaced, his hair hanging down limply from his head, heavy with water. He flicked his hair out of his face and laughed. “Great, isn’t it?”

Arin scowled, curling up even more to make his point. “N-n-n-o… It was f-f-f-fr-r-reez-z-z-ing…” He shook, huddling the blanket around him. He realised that it wasn’t wet, despite the fact it was drying him.

The druid smiled, shanking his head and diving deep, down into the stream. “How deep is that thing?” Arin wondered aloud. The druid was under the water for a while and Arin was starting to think he had drowned. Then suddenly he surfaced, holding up a large fish triumphantly.

“How’s that for a dinner, huh?!” He called out, swimming back to the rock that Arin was huddled on. Haynar’s body was covered in tattoos, his old chest dotted with lines and swirls, his stomach with a beautiful pattern curling around to his waist and his legs adorned with bands of shapes and sigils. The man’s body was a canvas that Arin quickly looked away from as he pulled himself out of the stream. The druid lay the flailing fish on the rock, placing a hand on its' body and hushing it. He whispered some words to it, that only the fish could understand, because after a few seconds its gills went still and its' tail stopped flapping.

It lay there, limp and dead as Haynar stood up, grabbing his own blanket from beside Arin and pulling it over himself. “You go inside, I’ll clean up here.” The druid smiled, waving Arin away. “But what about my clo-”

“Shh, I’ll deal with that. Your shirt should be dry. Go inside and rest, you’ll need it.” Arin shook his head, standing on his shaking, cold legs, his body shivering as his teeth clacked together. He went over to his shirt laying on the grass, now dry and… warm? Looking at the sun, or the small beam of light behind the clouds, Arin knew it wasn’t enough to have dried the clothes that fast and warm them up.

Wrapping the blanket around his waist, Arin picked up his shirt and slid it on. It was amazing, being enveloped in the warm fabric. He felt the warmth sink into his bones as he walked, enjoying the smell of the wild flowers that wafted from the clean fabric.

When he re-entered the cabin, he crawled under the sheets of the bed, huddling under the layers of blankets. After 10 minutes or so, his teeth finally stopped chattering and his shivering ceased.

Haynar came back, thankfully wearing clothes, with the rest of the washing. He brought Arin's pants back to him, folding them quickly and placing them at the foot of the bed.

“Oh, what’s happened with you?” He asked curiously, Arin looking at him in annoyance. “You made me swim in a freezing cold creek!” He flashed an angry glare at the old man before curling back up under the blankets. He was finally warm, he wasn’t going to remove these blankets for anything right now.

“Oh shhh,” The druid smirked, shaking his head. He patted Arin’s head before muttering. “You’ll see…” he dumped the fish on the table and began to prepare it with a large, glinting knife, the steady sounds making Arin feel sleepy.

He blinked hard, forcing his eyes open. With an annoyed sigh, he sat up and got dressed properly, impressed that the pants were also still warm, as if they had been sitting in the summer heat all day. He looked around the dim cabin as he fixed himself up, securing his pants and shuffling over to the fire. It seemed to always be alight, crackling softly.

As he sat down, he winced, preparing for his ribs to hurt again, but they didn’t. He blinked in surprise, massaging his chest, feeling for anywhere that hurt, but nothing did. The druid patted him on the shoulder, causing him to jump. The man was silent, like an owl, creeping up behind him. “That stream is called Meyatha.” The druid explained. “I was feeding you the water, but you really needed a swim in it.” Arin looked at the old man, who stared wistfully into the fire.

“Meyatha is sacred, the waters are powerful. My kind have bathed in it for centuries.” Haynar reached a wrinkled hand into the flames, picking up a burning log with his bare hands and shoving it further into the flames. Arin looked at him as he did it, but when the druid removed his hand, there were no burns. Haynar didn’t seem to acknowledge the fact there weren't any, instead groaning as he pushed himself up and grabbed the fresh fish he had prepared.

Soon the creamy flesh was frying on a flat pan, sitting comfortably by the flames.

Arin ate thankfully, the warm meal filling him up and warming his insides. “Tomorrow, you will help me once more, then I will help you with your problem.”

Arin nodded, getting up and going to bed. However, he had no intentions of falling asleep. He tucked himself in, getting comfy and shut his eyes, listening as the druid hummed and tottered about the cabin, clinking tubes and glasses together, and grinding something at some point with his tools.

Arin cracked an eye open, watching the druid carefully. At one point the old man looked up at Arin, cocking his head curiously. Arin remained dead still, keeping his breathing deep and slow. Haynar pouted before going back to his work, humming a little tune. He would occasionally stop and glance at Arin, eyeing him suspiciously, before returning to his work. At one point, Arin tried to sell it more, groaning softly and sighing, letting his body go limp. He watched as Haynar looked over at him and smiled.

“You are a tired one, hmm?” He murmured, going over to Arin. “I only hope it is not too late for you… You are a good soul.” He put a hand on Arin’s head, feeling his temperature before adjusting the blankets. “I’m glad I was watching you. Those bandits were not going to let you live. I can only hope that you will have a safe return to your village.” They stroked Arin’s head, it felt nice. Arin moved and mumbled, opening his eyes and looking at Haynar, who quickly removed it.

“Ah, I didn’t mean to wake you, go back to sleep.” He whispered, stroking Arin’s head again. Soon Arin was actually asleep, snoring softly. Haynar smirked. “Sleep well little one.”

~~

Arin woke with a start to an empty cabin. The fire was low and the room was drenched in darkness. It was raining hard, a large thunder clap sounding. That must have been what woke him. Looking around for Haynar, he couldn’t see him anywhere. Sitting up as lightning flashed, the cabin was illuminated for a second. Haynar was nowhere to be found. Standing, he rubbed the sleep from his eyes and grabbed his thick, warm cloak.

Looking around in the flashes of lightning, he watched for the glint of his sword. He couldn’t see it anywhere, until he checked under the bed.

It was there, pushed toward the back of the bed. Grabbing it, he secured it around his waist, walking toward the door. Walking out into the wind and rain, looking around for Haynar. He squinted out into the dark looking for anything, but he couldn’t see him.

“Come inside, you’ll catch a cold.” Haynar’s voice broke through the thunder behind him. Whirling around, Arin saw the old druid standing in the doorway, holding the door open, the fire now raging and casting a warm, golden glow on the walls. Arin stumbled back inside, shedding his clothes and weapon. Once he was back inside, Haynar put a firm hand on his back and guided him back to bed, “I couldn’t find you…” Arin mumbled. “Rest, I merely went outside for more firewood.” Haynar murmured, tucking Arin in. “You are still injured, Thora. Rest.” Arin nodded, letting his eyes slide shut. He was so… so… tired…

~~

That morning, he felt sluggish waking up. His body felt better than it had in days, but it was heavy, like it was made of lead. Lifting his head, it felt like it was stuffed full of mud.

Haynar was sitting by the fire, adjusting the logs with his bare hands, as usual. Arin must have groaned as he sat up, because the man turned around and looked at him. “You slept in today. Are you feeling alright? Perhaps you should rest and work tomorrow.” Arin shook his head, causing the world to spin a little. He blinked as it stopped, pushing out of bed and swaying a little, he had to work so he could get back to his village, he had been gone too long already.

Haynar sighed, seemingly reading his mind, before he grunted, easing up from the fire and mixing up a serum with his herbs and oils. He handed a pleasant smelling liquid in a mug to Arin. “This should get you through the day.” He patted Arin on the shoulder, before leaving. Arin took a sip of the drink before retching. It might smell nice, but it tasted like sewage. Forcing the drink down, Arin gasped for air, trying to rid the taste from his mouth before stumbling outside.

Haynar was standing beside some logs. “Oh no…” Arin mumbled walking over.

“Cut these up for me. Nice, manageable pieces if possible, then carry them over to my pile. It’s behind the house, you can’t miss it.”

Arin sighed, nodding and picking up an axe that was leaning beside a log.

“It's sharp, be careful.” Haynar added, before shuffling back inside. He came out with a large book and sat in a sunny patch of grass. It was still a cloudy day, but at least there was some sun.

Arin set up the wood on a chopping block and swung the axe, grunting as it came down. He split the wood clean in two, the axe the sharpest he’d ever used. “Woah…” He murmured looking at the blade. It looked old and rusted, but it was definitely sharp. Chopping up the wood, he soon had a small pile that he picked up and carried around to the stock at the back of the cabin. He found a little nook for the wood and began to stack the fresh logs. There weren’t many pieces of wood left, so it was just as well Arin was doing this for the old man.

He wouldn’t be able to get through the winter otherwise.

When he came back around, Haynar was sitting, hunched over the book, trailing his fingers trailing over the pages. ‘Course you’re just making me do all your chores so you can read…’ Arin thought, rolling his eyes and returning to the wood cutting. He did have to admit, he felt a little better after the drink, but occasionally a chill would dance down his spine. After a couple of hours of chopping, he was almost done and the stock pile was nearly full.

Arin sighed as he lay down the axe for a minute, his arms feeling like they were about to drop out of his shoulders, his back ached from the constant swinging. He walked over to a patch of sun and collapsed in it, face first into the grass. The warm light on his back made him smile as he heard Haynar chuckle and stand up, shuffling away. He returned a few minutes later with some bread and a pot of jam. “Here, you should eat.” The druid said, thrusting the food at Arin, who raised his head from the ground. Sitting up slowly, Arin ate the food thankfully, enjoying the tart taste of the jam on the bread.

“Thank you.” He smiled softly as the druid ripped a chunk of bread off for himself. “You’re welcome young Thora.”

Arin continued chopping until the pile was finished. He was panting hard by the end of it, sweat staining his shirt. Pulling it off, he fanned himself with it, before wiping his face. The world swayed as it went blurry for a second and Haynar looked up, frowning as he watched the young man sway.

“Are you alright? Why don’t you let me move the wood? You can rest, you’ve done more than enough.” Arin shook his head, grabbing the wood he had just finished cutting and carrying it around the cabin. He was going to finish this damn job himself, or everything would be for nothing. When he finally moved back around the cabin, he saw Haynar picking up the book and taking it inside.

The ground seems to be unsteady beneath him as he felt the blood drain from his face, and he collapsed with a sigh, landing heavily on the ground.

~~

Haynar heard a strangled sigh, rushing outside just in time to see the man hit the ground. He didn’t move, laying limp in the grass, sweat pouring off his body. Haynar ran over, rolling the man and gasped. His face was ashen and his skin was burning hot. “The poison… It has taken hold again.”

Dragging the traveller’s heavy, sagging body inside he rushed around mixing concoctions of river water and herbs. He whispered incantations gently, humbly asking the mixtures to cooperate as he created them.

Thora groaned and opened his eyes slightly at one point, only for them to roll back almost instantly as his body went still. His breaths were uneven as he lay there in the bed, gasping for air. Haynar brought a thick oil over to him, and scooped a large glob onto the man’s chest, massaging it into the skin. “I hoped it would not come to this remedy, but it appears you had a particularly potent dose.” Haynar explained to the unconscious man. The oil smelled strongly of mint, but Haynar would rather use it now than later, he knew that it was going to feel like he had set Thora on fire.

~~

Arin moaned as he smelled a strong scent, burning his nostrils. He opened his eyes, his mouth feeling as dry as a desert as he tried to speak. “Uhhhnn…” Was all he could manage. “I am sorry,” Haynar said as he rubbed the thick oil onto the man’s chest. “I should have made you wait… The bandits must be using a stronger concotion of poison… I am sorry... This will hurt so much…” All Arin could hear was a buzz as he tired to keep his eyes open, vaguely aware of a tingling sensation on his chest. All of a sudden, his eyes grew wide as he screamed, arching his back in pain as the sensation of a white hot knife pieced his chest. He heard Haynar start to hum as he gasped for air, that strange, pleasurable sensation washing over him again. He moaned breathlessly, trying to understand the world, colours and shapes spinning in front of his eyes and loud, strange singing filling his head.

Rainbow streams of light filled his vision, blinding and overwhelming as he passed out with a cry.

~~

Haynar listened to the strangled cries of the man cut off suddenly. He grabbed a poultice from the nearest table, soaking it in water from the stream, and dabbing it on Thora’s forehead.

He hummed his spells, praying that it would work. The poor man’s breaths grew more and more strained, his chest fighting to suck in air. Haynar desperately tried everything, throwing all that he could at the man… But he drew a final, wavering breath, before sighing and going still.

He didn’t take another.

“No, no, no…” Haynar muttered, shaking Thora hard. His skin was even more grey, but now he was ice cold. Haynar felt his insides burn in a rage as his face began to contort, feathers emerging from his skin as he felt his form shift. He placed a yellow, clawed hand, much like that of an owl foot on the man’s chest. Letting his claws pierce the skin, blood leaked from Thora’s skin as Haynar spoke the ancient language of his kin. He called the young man’s spirit back to him, gripping his chest hard, feeling the skin part as he sliced it with his knife like claws.

He could feel the heart beat in the man's chest, faint but there… He could feel the spirit, it was fighting to stay, he could save this man…

Arin’s eyes shot open, and he gasped, throwing his head back and sucking in as much air as he could. He wailed in pain, still feeling the burn of the oil Haynar had used on his chest. He felt thick, sharp claws slide out from inside him, making his breath hitch as the pain washed over him again.

“I apologise…” Haynar whispered, collapsing to the ground. He forced himself up again, going over to a shelf and scrabbling around with his clawed hands. He found a bottle, yanking the cork off the top and chugged it, sighing as he felt the strange turning in his stomach settle. He shouldn’t have turned so fast. It usually took several minutes.

Grabbing some bandages, he walked over to Arin, who had pushed himself into his elbows and was looking at his bloody chest in confusion.

Haynar helped Arin sit up as he bandaged his chest. Arin was looking at his owl body in horror. “Do not fear, I am still me.” The owl faced man murmured, long, clawed hands gently wrapping Arin's chest, blood stains blooming against the white cloth. Arin let his head hang as he silently slouched, letting the druid do his work. He mumbled tiny little mews of pain every time the bandages tightened around a wound.

Haynar lay Arin down, massaging his chest to ease the pain he was in. He blinked slowly, coming back to himself as he lay there. “What… are you…?” He breathed trying to comprehend the owl man standing in front of him.

“It seems we both have secrets to share… Rest, I will tend to you tonight, you should be well by dawn if I get to work.” Arin was already dozing off as Haynar grabbed more medicines. His magic had restored the man’s life, but he was still sick. The poison was still in his system, he had to get it out, the only way he knew how.

~~

Arin awoke with a groan, his arms feeling strange. He turned his head, looking at them, watching as Haynar picked up fat, black, slimy leeches and put them back in a large jar full of murky water.

“Huh…?” He mumbled not understanding. “I had to use these to get the last of the poison from your system.” The owl man said flatly, it was hard to talk with a beak.

“Why are you… a bird…? Am I… hallucinating?” Arin asked sleepily. “No, this is merely my… other half. My name is not actually Haynar, as you probably knew… It is Hewoo.”

Arin snorted. “Like an owl call…” The bird man nodded, blinking with his black, owl eyes slowly. “Yes. Druids are not… particularly creative when it comes to names.” He explained, picking off another leech with his claws. “Well… My name's not Thora… It’s my father’s name…” Arin mumbled, feeling his body wake up more and more with each leech removed. “I know.” Hewoo’s voice whistled as he spoke, much like an owl's hoot.

“It is wise to hide your true identity from strangers.” The druid spoke again. “Yes… But… my name is… Arin.” Arin sighed as the final leech was peeled off his arms. Hewoo began to bandage them, and Arin looked at his bandaged chest.

“So what did you do?” He asked curiously. “Well, I used a very old spell, I do apologise for the uh… lacerations I caused.” Hewoo lifted a hand, flexing the clawed fingers. It was scaly and yellow, like that of a raptor, with three large fingers and a huge, black claw on the end of each one. “The spell brought out this form, but that usually happens with ancient magic.” They looked at Arin, who sat up, looking at his bandaged body. He realised his legs and stomach were also bandaged up.

“How many leeches did you use?” He asked, amused. “Many. Most of my jars in fact. They should be fine however. Poison doesn't affect them like it does people.” The druid spoke, helping Arin swing his legs over the bed. “You may be shaky from the blood loss, but by the way you’re acting, I’d say the poison has left your system.”

The owl man walked Arin over to a table and sat him in front of a book. “Now, I’ve been reading up on corrupted water supplies, does any of this sound familiar?” He asked the man, who squinted at the words. He couldn’t read that well, only enough to read some of the words, but he didn't know what they meant.

“I don’t know what this says.” He looked up at the druid who cocked his head, blinking each eye individually. “No matter, I will read it aloud.” The druid learned in close and pointed with his claw at the words.

He read aloud, guiding Arin’s eyes with his finger.

“Metherolisi. A corruption of the water supply, more common in large settlements, that results in the death of its inhabitants. The water goes foul, eventually turning black and thick, as if it is mud.”

“Wait that. That sounds like it.” Arin looked up at the Hewoo. “Hmm…” The owl druid looked concerned. He read further. “There is no cure for Metherolisi…” Arin’s shoulders drooped. “So that’s it? We are doomed?” His bottom lip quivered, tears brimming in his eyes.

“No. There is something I can do for you. This book is full of human knowledge, it does not know the knowledge of my kind.” Arin watched in dismay as Hewoo pulled an empty jar off a shelf. “What do you mean? The only thing I can do is bring back The Eye, and that doesn’t exist!” He stood, banging the table as he yelled.

Hewoo chucked, blinking slowly.

“Well, I lied. I wanted you to stay and heal, I knew if I told you where it was you would want to leave, and in your state, you wouldn’t have made it home.” Arin’ chest heaved as he sank back down, wiping tears from his face. “Wait- What do you mean?” Hewoo opened the jar, then looked at Arin.

“Well, The Eye… It is real, it exists. It is here.” Hewoo’s claws reached up to his right eye, scooping it out of his head. He placed it in the jar with a soft ’plunk’, before sealing it shut. He wrapped it up in a cloth, and packed it away in Arin’s things, looking out the window, into the night. “Rest tonight, I will escort you you the edge of the forest tomorrow. You will be safe under my watch.” Arin nodded, easing up from the chair and walking back to the bed. He sighed, lying down and sinking into the soft sheets.

He was roused at the crack of dawn by Hewoo, who handed him his clothes. Rubbing his eyes sleepily, he yawned and stretched, looking at the clothes by the bed. “Hurry, get ready. We need to leave soon.” Hewoo whispered. He was now more human looking, with the exception that he now wore an eye patch.

Arin hurried as he threw on his clothes, itching some of the bandages as he did so. Soon he and the old man were walking down a small, lonely path in the dawn mist. Hewoo was carrying a staff with a lantern on the end, a sound that made a familiar squeak.

So it had been Hewoo who had fended off the bandits.

When they reached the edge of the forest, Hewoo stopped suddenly. “This is the place where I can go no further. Travel fast, and by day, Arin. When you reach your village, drop The Eye into the main well and the corruption should lift in a few days.”

Arin nodded, “Thank you, for everything.” The druid nodded back, turning and disappearing into the mist. Within seconds, he was gone, as if he had flown away silently like an owl.

~~

After two days of travel, Arin finally made it home. His heart sank as he looked at the extra graves outside the village, all names he knew well. He walked through the silent houses and pulled out his jar, revealing a shining, black orb, an eye, inside. He carefully lifted it from the jar and dropped it into the well. A small ’ploop’ echoed from the bottom of the well as Arin looked down into it.

The smell of rotting flesh began to emanate from the water as it began to boil and bubble. With a puff of azure smoke, the smell disappeared and Arin let out a breath he hadn’t realised he had been holding.

Turning towards home, he finally trudged through the door, his parents descending on him and pulling him into their arms tightly. They sobbed into his chest, thinking their son had been killed on his quest. Arin decided not to tell them he nearly had been.

On the third day after his return, Arin went to the well and pulled up a bucket of water. It was crystal clear. Tasting it, he cried out, villagers rushing to see what was wrong.

“The water!” He cried out, showing the bucket to everyone, “It is cured!” The village erupted into cheers, and cries of relief. That night they all feasted, everyone sharing what they had and drinking their fill.

All Arin could do is look up at the sky.

~~

In the trees beyond the village, a one eyed owl perched on a branch, before taking flight, disappearing as if it was the wind itself.

~masterlist~

[dumbass-extraordinaire]

You Say You’re Ok (You’re Faking, Fucked Up)

Bart Allen has perfected his happy-go-lucky persona.  After the Reach are defeated, little by little, his facade starts to crumble.

     Bart is fine.  Why wouldn’t he be?  He made it to the future, he stopped the Reach, he even has an honest-to-god best friend.  Everything is great, crash-tastic, amaze-balls, totes coolio!  So he’s fine.  Really.

     So what if he has a few nightmares?  That’s totally normal-like, everyone’s a little screwed in the head.  Especially superheroes.  It’s like in the job description or something.

     So, really.  He’s fine.

...

     It starts like this.  Bart and Jaime are playing Mario Kart in Jaime’s room after training.  It’s late, and Bart is kinda sorta exhausted, but he loves playing Mario Kart with Jaime so he doesn’t complain.  Not even when Jaime kicks his ass on Rainbow Road.  

     But then, uh oh, Bart falls asleep and he isn’t in Jaime’s room anymore.  He’s back in the future (can he still call it the future if it isn’t ever gonna happen?) and the Reach has him wearing an inhibitor collar.  

     It’s one of the ones that anchors into the skin of his neck, too.   Even with his speedster healing he still has scars from the little needle-blade-clamp thingies that kept the collar attached to his neck.  Sometimes they itch.  Sometimes they burn.  He’s good at ignoring them, mostly.

     But right now he’s back in a collar and he feels so so so heavy, like he’s got lead weights tied to his limbs and he’s panicking and he wants it offoffoffrightnowpleaseohgod.  He claws desperately at his neck, blind with panic.

     “Bart! Bart, stop, listen it’s just a dream!”  Someone is calling his name, and then his wrists are pinned and nonononono that’s bad he needs to get the collar off and he feels badheavywrongwrongwrong.

     “Hermano, please it’s me, it’s Jaime!  C’mon, man, wake up!”  The voice is there again.  Bart’s eyes fly open.  Jaime looms over him, holding his wrists against the floor.  His eyes are wide with fear and liquid with concern.

     “Jaime?” He croaks.  His throat and neck feel raw and tender, and the wood floor is hard and cool against his back.  He smells blood.

     “Yeah, ese,” Jaime says and his body sags, tension bleeding out of his frame.  He lets go of Bart’s wrists and sits back on his heels.

     Bart blinks up at him, “I- uh, what happened?”  He coughs, and the metallic taste of blood coats his throat.

     Jaime exhales, running a hand through his hair, “You fell asleep on the floor in the middle of the last round and then you must’ve had a nightmare because you started freaking out and scratching at your neck.”  Jaime looks shaken.  “I had to grab your hands, hermano, you drew blood.”

     Bart bolts upright, “I hurt you?!” he asks, frantically scanning his friend for injuries.

     Jaime shakes his head, “No, you were hurting yourself, I’m fine.”

     “Oh, okay,” Bart relaxes, “That’s good.”  He didn’t hurt Jaime.  Jaime can’t heal like Bart can, so as long as he only got himself, Bart isn’t all that upset.

     Jaime stares at him like he’s grown a second head.  “No, Bart.  Not good, es muy malo.  Dios mio, you nearly ripped open your windpipe!”  Jaime looks distraught, like someone kicked a puppy or something.

    Bart tilts his head, confused, “Yeah, but I’m fine.  It’s not like this hasn’t happened before.  You don’t need to freak out, I’ll just heal like I always do.”

     Jaime gapes at him, “That’s not better.  Just because you can heal doesn’t mean it doesn’t matter if you get hurt.”  He seems to process the other part of Bart’s response, “And what do you mean, it’s not the first time this has happened?”

     “I get nightmares sometimes, it’s no big deal,” Bart fidgets, wiggling his fingers, uncomfortable with Jaime’s overreaction.  Everyone has nightmares.  Bart’s fine, he deals with them.  

     He can tell Jaime is going to say something, so he cuts him off, “I don’t wanna talk about it,” he says, avoiding eye contact.

     Jaime’s voice softens, “Bart, correcamino...” he trails off with a sigh.  “At least let me help you get cleaned up.  You’ve got blood on your neck and hands, it’s not sanitary.”

     Bart nods, “M’kay.”  He still doesn’t look Jaime in the eyes, staring at his shoulder instead.  Jaime gets to his feet and extends a hand to help Bart up.

     They shuffle down the hall to the bathroom, and Jaime rummages around underneath the sink for some hydrogen peroxide and a small towel.  Bart hops up onto the counter, swinging his legs like a little kid.  He likes the thump thump thump of his heels knocking against the counter.  Jaime huffs a small laugh at this, and something inside Bart’s chest settles.  He feels safe here with Jaime.

     The older boy straightens up, setting the items on the counter next to Bart.  With Bart sitting on the counter like this, they’re eye-level with each other and nearly nose-to-nose.  Bart stares into Jaime’s warm brown eyes.  Jaime stares back.  I could kiss him, Bart thinks.

     Bart clears his still-sore throat, breaking the tension.  “Hey, what does it mean, that word you called me?  Core-ay-cah-meeno?”

     Jaime cringes at Bart’s butchered pronunciation, then rubs the back of his neck awkwardly, “Oh, it means roadrunner.”

     Bart grins, warmth blooming in his chest, “I like it.”

     Jaime coughs, “Oh!  Uh, good, that’s good.”  He trails off, seemingly embarrassed.  Bart thinks he can see a hint of red in Jaime’s dark cheeks.  His stomach flip-flops.

 ...

     The next time, they’re on a mission.  It’s not going great, to say the least.  The bad guys have some Apokolyptan tech and Jaime’s getting his ass kicked worse than Bart while playing Mario Kart.

     Not that Bart is doing much better.  One of these sadistic asshats snapped his right tibia in half and the jagged edge of the bone is sticking out of his skin.  It hurts like a bitch, but Bart has plenty of experience ignoring intense pain.  He looks up just in time to see Jaime get thrown into the wall Bart’s leaning against by a blast of energy.  He slides to the floor, unmoving. 

     Bart sees red.  With an animalistic snarl, he grabs his broken leg and forces the two halves of his tibia together with a wet snap.  His vision goes white with pain, but he grits his teeth and focuses his breathing as he lets his meta healing work its magic.  He needs to get Jaime out of here.

     Turns out, he doesn’t need to worry.  The boom of Jaime’s sonic canon echoes through the abandoned warehouse and the bad guy goes flying.  Thank god for Khaji Da.  Once the bone has fused enough for him to move, Bart scrambles over to Jaime.

     The older boy is staring at him with wide eyes, “What the fuck, Bart?!”  Jaime tries to get up and yelps, clutching his side, “Madre de Dios,” he hisses.  Then, “No shit, Khaji, I got thrown into a wall.”

     Bart is frantic, “AreyouokayohmygodJaime!”

     Jaime looks up at him, “Yeah, just cracked a couple ribs and bumped my head.  What the hell was that with your leg, Bart?”

     Bart flaps his hands dissmissively, “I just forced the bone back together so it would fuse faster.  It’s an old trick I learned in the future.  Pretty crash, right?”

     Jaime just stares at him.  “¿Está usted loco?” he says incredulously.  “Bart that is not crash!  Hermano, you could seriously mess your leg up with a stunt like that,” he says, sounding horrified.

     Bart waves away his concern, “It’s fine, dude.  I’ve done it like a million times.”

     Jaime gives him a flat look, “That doesn’t make me feel better, ese.”

     Bart sighs, “Look, I’m good, okay.”  He stands up and balances on his injured leg, “See, all better!”  He wobbles, wincing as a bolt of pain shoots through his still-healing leg, but manages to not fall on his ass.

     Jaime looks unimpressed.  “Promise me you’ll at least get it checked out in the med bay,” he pleads.  “It would make me feel better to know you’re really alright.”

      Bart’s heart does a funny little squeeze at Jaime’s obvious concern, so he agrees, “Fine, mom, I’ll go to the med bay when we get back.”

      Jaime looks relieved and Bart doesn’t know what to do with that.  No one’s cared whether or not he gets hurt in a long time.

...

     It all comes crashing down at a party at the Outsider’s headquarters.  They’re eating pizza and messing around.  It’s all fun and games, until it isn’t.

     Jaime’s gone to get them more soda and Bart is scarfing down his fifteenth piece of pizza when someone grabs it out of his hands.  “Dude,” he says indignantly.

     Brion is holding his plate, “You need to slow down.  You are going to get a stomach ache my friend.”  

     Panic pools in Bart’s gut, “Give it back.”  It’s irrational, but even after all this time, Bart is still possessive over his food.

     Brion laughs, like this is funny.  Like taking Bart’s food is a joke.  “No, no, you have eaten enough.  I will be taking this.”

     “Hey, man, knock it off,” Vic says.  

     Brion laughs again, then hiccups.  He smells like beer.  “No, no more pizza for the kleiner schneller,” he says, and ruffles Bart’s hair.  His fingers are clumsy and they tug just enough to set Bart off.

     Panic shoots through his veins, turning his blood into ice water.  Surging to his feet, Bart grabs Brion’s wrist and judo-flips him faster than the prince can blink.  He’s breathing hard and his skin is crawling with phantom fingers.  The room has gone silent and everyone is staring at him like he’s lost his mind.

     “Brion!” Violet yelps, their aura flaring as she rushes to their boyfriend’s side.  She inspects him for injuries before turning their dark eyes onto Bart.  “Why did you do that,” she demands.

     Bart doesn’t answer them, still trembling with adrenaline.  He runs out of the room as tears prick at his eyes.  What the fuck is wrong with him?

     “Bart?” Jaime is back with the sodas, but Bart just pushes past him without a word.  “Bart, wait, what’s wrong?”  

     Bart stumbles through the hall and into the training room; he collapses onto the mat, crying.  Why can’t he just be normal for one goddamn night?  Why is he so fucked up?

     Jaime isn’t far behind him, rushing through the door with the sodas still in his hands.  “Bart!” Jaime calls out his name, voice laced with concern.  He stops in front of Bart, “Bart, hermano, what’s wrong?”

     Bart hiccups, trying to get his emotions under control, “It’s stupid.”

     “It’s not stupid if it’s making you this upset,” Jaime insists, sitting down next to him on the mat.

     “Brion took my pizza,” he wails.  It’s stupid because that’s not even what he’s upset about, not really.  It’s not what set him off, what turned him into this feral, snarling animal that lashes out at everyone around him.

     Jaime cocks his head.  “I don’t understand,” he says slowly, “I mean, that’s a dick move, but why are you so upset?”

     Bart takes a shallow, shaky breath and doesn’t look at Jaime.  “If I did something bad, would you hate me?” he asks.

     Jaime puts his hand on Bart’s shoulder.  “Hermano, I could never hate you,” he says, and his voice is so gentle that Bart’s chest aches.  Then Jaime tilts his head, “Hey, what’s going on with you?” he asks, concerned.  “Y’okay?”

     “I just,” he gulps, “He touched my hair and he took my pizza and suddenly it was like I was right back there all over again and I freaked out.”  He flaps his hands around agitatedly.  What he has with Jaime is so good and he doesn’t wanna fuck it up by saying too much.

     Jaime sucks in a breath, “Bart, what do you mean by ‘back there’?”  His voice is tinted blue with concern and his hand is still heavy on Bart’s shoulder.

     Bart doesn’t look at him.  His skin is crawling and everything is too bright and too loud and toomuchtoomuchtoomuch.  He scratches at his forearms violently, trying to get rid of the buzzing under his skin and in his ears.

     Jaime grabs his wrist, “Bart stop!  You’re hurting yourself!”

     Blind with panic, he snarls, “Don’t touch me!” and flinches violently away from Jaime.  Jaime blinks at him, eyes wide and shocked, and Bart feels like an asshole all over again.

     “Bart,” Jaime says carefully, like he’s soothing to a scared animal, “Please talk to me.”  His hands are raised in the universal gesture for “I come in peace”.

     “I’m sorry,” he whispers.

     Jaime shakes his head.  “No, don’t be, ese.  I shouldn’t have grabbed you like that.  Lo siento, chiquito.”  Jaime is so good it makes Bart want to start crying all over again.

     “It’s just,” he starts but the words stick in his throat.  He tries again, “Y’know how in the future everything was super moded?”  Understatement of the century but it’s whatever.

     Jaime nods.

     Bart licks his lips and continues, “Well food was always really hard to find and some people would always have more than others.”  He bounces his leg, “And, um, I was always so hungry.  There was never enough to eat for normal people, so I was constantly starving.  Speedster metabolism and all that shit.”

     “I’m sorry,” Jaime says, sounding like he means it.

     Bart shakes his head, “Not your fault.”  Jaime looks like he’s gonna disagree, so Bart looks him dead in the eyes and says again, “Not your fault, Blue.”

     Jaime nods, “Okay,” mouth quirking.

     Bart inhales shakily, “And, um, so like I said there were people that always had more food than others.  And they would be willing to share, if you did them a favor.  And sometimes I would get so hungry and I just...did them a favor.”

     Jaime makes a strangled noise in the back of his throat, “Fuck, Bart, you mean...”

     Bart nods,  “Yeah, uh, exactly what it sounds like,” he says, refusing to look at Jaime, not wanting to see the disgust in his eyes.  His hands are shaking and his chest is tight, “So sorry!  You’re best friend’s a slut!”  He laughs, high and shaky, and starts crying again.

      “Dios mio, Bart, no,” Jaime sounds heartbroken, “Mierda, chiquito, I’m so sorry.”  

      Bart sniffles and asks, “You don’t hate me?”

      “Why would I hate you?” Jaime sounds genuinely confused and also a little bit like he’s crying.

      “Because I’m dirty and fucked up,” he says hoarsely, “I’m damaged goods.”

      “That’s bullshit,” Jaime snaps angrily.  Bart looks up at him in shock, eyes wide.  

      “You did what you had to to survive; the pendejos who decided it was okay to take advantage of a starving kid, they’re the ones who’re fucked up.  Not you,” Jaime says, voice steely with conviction.

      Bart blinks dumbly at him, shocked.  “You really don’t hate me,” he says wonderously.  He feels floaty and not all there, like when he’s running as fast as he can and his edges go all blurry.

      “I told you, I could never hate you,” Jaime insists fiercely, and Bart wonders how he could’ve ever been afraid of someone like Jaime.

      “Can I- can I have a hug?” he asks, and he hates how pitiful he sounds but he just wants someone to hold him and tell him everything’s gonna be alright.

      “Shit, of course,” Jaime says, and wraps his arms around Bart.  Bart buries his face in Jaime’s neck and it feels like coming home.

      They stay like that for a while, Bart clinging to Jaime like he’s drowning and Jaime’s the only thing keeping his head above water, which is truer than he’d like.  Eventually, Bart pulls away; his breathing is still shaky but he’s no longer crying.

      Bart exhales and smiles at Jaime.  “Y’know,” he says, “You were the first person I ever really trusted after I got here.”

      “Really?” Jaime asks, surprised.  “What about Barry?  Or Jay or Wally?”

     Bart chews his lip.  “No, see, cause I trusted them not to hurt me and stuff, but I didn’t trust them with my past.  I still don’t, to be honest.  You’re the only one who knows just how bad it actually was.”

     “Oh,” Jaime breathes.  “Wow, that’s...you’ve never talked about it?  At all?”

     He shakes his head.  “They know bits and pieces, but not the whole thing.  I didn’t want them to look at me like I’m just some tragic victim.  I mean, it was shitty, but I survived it.  It didn’t kill me, I’m still here.”

     Jaime nods, “I can understand that, I guess.  But Bart...I think you should talk to someone about it.  It doesn’t make you weak to ask for help, correcamino.”

     “I know that,” he snaps defensively.  “Sorry, sorry.  It’s just, I don’t wanna be pitied.”  He fiddles with the hem of his shirt. 

     “Black Canary’s a licensed therapist,” Jaime offers.  “It’s pretty much her job not to judge or pity people, ese.”

     Bart considers it.  “Maybe,” he says, “I just don’t know if I’m ready to talk about it with someone else.”  He shrugs, picking at his jeans.

     “Well, I’m here,” Jaime says, his gaze steady and his voice kind, “For whenever you need to talk.  Even...even about those favors.”

     Bart glances up at him, “You don’t wanna hear about that.  It’s gross.”  I’m gross, he doesn’t say.

     Jaime shrugs, “Doesn’t matter.  You ever need to talk about it, I’m here.  I’m not going to judge you or pity you or anything like that.  I’ll just be here for you, whenever you need me.”

      Bart stares at the training room floor.  After a moment, he speaks.  “I freaked out because Brion ruffled my hair.  He kinda tugged at it, and that...it felt like before.”  His throat closes up and he stops talking, glancing at Jaime out of the corner of his eyes.

      Jaime exhales sharply, “That sucks, hermano.”  He says it frankly and without condescension.  “That really, really sucks.”

      Bart squeezes his eyes shut, scrubbing at his face with the heels of his hands.  “Yeah, it does,” he says, voice cracking.  He doesn’t want to talk about this anymore, so he switches topics.  “Did I ever show you the scars on my legs?” he asks.

      Jaime shakes his head, “No,” he says, voice cautious like he still thinks Bart might run away.

      Bart kicks off his shoes and rolls up his jeans, angling his left ankle towards Jaime.  “There, see it?” he says, pointing to the neat lines of raised skin running horizontal across his ankle and calf with surgical precision.  “I’ve got matching ones on my other leg.”

      Jaime looks both horrified and fascinated, like he’s looking at a car wreck.  “How?” he asks, “Why?”  He makes an aborted hand motion, like he wanted to touch the scars but thought better of it at the last minute.

      Bart catches his hand, “You can touch them, it’s okay.”  It’s okay, he tells himself, it’s just Jaime.

      “You sure?” Jaime asks.

      Bart nods.  He trusts Jaime; he trusts him with his past and he trusts him with his scars.  He trusts him so much it’s honestly kind of scary sometimes.

      Hesitantly, Jaime reaches out and runs a finger along one of the scars.  His touch is feather-light and impossibly gentle.  Bart shivers.  After a moment, Jaime pulls his hand back, looking thoughtful.

      “What happened,” he says, more of a statement than a question.

      Bart shifts, “I was the last speedster, and the Reach wanted to know how my powers worked; what the limits of my healing were.  The Reach scientists would do experiments on me,” he taps his fingers in a staccato rhythm on his thigh, “That’s how I knew my bone would fuse on that mission.  They tested it.”

      “Bart...” Jaime trails off, like he’s not sure what to say.  Bart supposes that’s fair.  How are you supposed to respond when your best friend tells you that he had his legs broken repeatedly for “science”?

      “The scars are from when they would cut my hamstring and my achilles tendon to see how fast I could heal and if I could still run while injured,” Bart recites clinically, “I can, by the way, I’m just a lot slower.”

      “Jesus,” Jaime breathes.  His voice cracks, “God, Bart, that’s horrible.”

      Bart shifts, uncomfortable with the emotional intensity, “Well, if you look on the bright side, it’s not like any of it was permanent,” he says, trying to lighten to mood.

      Jaime gives him a flat, unimpressed look, one that says you are so full of shit but I’m not gonna call you on it right now.

      “I’ve got other scars, too.”  Bart’s never talked about this before, and now that he’s started it feels like he can’t stop.  

      The words just keep spilling out, “On my neck.  They’re from the inhibitor collars, the ones in the future.  They had little blade thingies that would stab into the skin, tomakeithardertogetoutofthem,” he gulps in a breath, the words blurring together at the end.

      Jaime buries his face in his hands, muttering in rapid-fire spanish under his breath.  He’s speaking too fast for Bart, with his limited understanding of the language, to catch anything other that a few swear words but the guilt in his tone comes through clear as day

      Guilt pools in Bart’s stomach.  Of course Jaime, with his too-big heart, blames himself for this.

      Bart reaches out and puts a hand on Jaime’s shoulder, “It’s not your fault, Blue.  None of it is.”

      Jaime leans into his touch, “I’m still sorry,” he says.

      “Don’t be, Jaime.  I never blamed you, not for a second,” he says, and he means it.

      Jaime inhales and sits up, “I don’t know why I’m freaking out, this isn’t about me.”

      Bart wraps his arm around Jaime and rests his head on his shoulder, “It’s fine, dude.  I just told you a bunch of really heavy stuff, so I think you’re justified in getting worked up.  It’s nice to know that someone cares.”

      Jaime wraps his own arm around Bart and squeezes him tightly against his side, “Of course I care.  You’re my best friend and I hate that any of this happened to you,” he admits, voice thick with emotion.  “You didn’t deserve it, Bart, I hope you know that.”

      Bart doesn’t wanna start crying again.  He’s so tired of crying.  But Jaime’s words grip his heart like a fist and squeeze.  For the second time that day, Jaime holds him as he shakes apart, whispering comforting spanish into his hair.

      Bart gasps, trying to regulate his breathing, “I’m just sick of this shit.  I’m sick of feeling like I’m flying apart.”  He grips his hair and rocks in place, an aborted scream clotting in his throat.  

      Jaime pulls him into a fuller, bone-crushing hug, “Hey, hey, you’re okay, I’ve got you,” he says, “Nadie va a volverá a tocarte.  No se lo permitiré.  Te lo prometo, chiquito.”  He presses a firm kiss to Bart’s temple.

      Bart pulls back and stares at him, eyes wide.

      Jaime scrambles away from him, “Shit, shit, sorry!  I should’nt’ve- lo siento,” he babbles.

     Bart giggles, slightly hysterical, “It’s crash.”

     “No, I’m sorry!  I overstepped,” Jaime’s still babbling.  “Dios, soy un idiota.  ¡Por qué hiciste eso, maldito bobo!" he mutters to himself, smacking his forehead.

      “Jaime!” Bart snaps, grabbing his friend’s hand, “I said it’s crash!”  Jaime still looks conflicted, so Bart continues, “You didn’t make me uncomfortable, you just surprised me is all.  I promise.”

      “You sure?” Jaime asks, deadly serious.

      “I’m sure,” Bart insists.  Not letting go of Jaime’s hand, he flops backwards onto the mat.  “Ugh, my brain’s all cottony from crying,” he complains.  “I don’t wanna go back to the party, I fucking judo flipped Brion and now everyone thinks I’m crazy.”

      Jaime snorts, “No shit, did you really?”

      “Yeah, dude.”

      Jaime lays down next to him.  “Hey,” he says, “If you’re feeling up to it, we could go get milkshakes?  Would that help?”  He sounds tentative, unsure of himself.

      Bart turns his head towards Jaime, “Y’know what, that actually sounds really nice.”

      Jaime smiles and gets to his feet, “C’mon, hermano,” he says, offering Bart his hand.  Bart takes it, pulling himself to his feet, and doesn’t let go.

[starliight-whump]

Can you write a Day In The Life Of Rigel story? 🥺 I love him

I'm sorry this took forever, but I finally finished it, so here is a day in the life of Rigel! :)

Sunlight filtered in through the windows, dancing over Rigel's face. It woke him up, and he opened his eyes slowly. From his place at the foot by Miss Cordelia's bed, he glanced over only to see that it was empty. Not an entirely unusual sight, not on fight days at least. Often Miss Cordelia let him sleep a little longer, which was nice. Rigel laid his head back down on the mattress again and gazed out over the sun filled room. He kind of felt bad for just laying around but at the same time, Rigel was grateful for some extra rest; and if Miss Cordelia didn't need him to do anything or wanted his company then it was just best to stay out of her way. 

Rigel could hear Cordelia's footsteps on the wooden floor, somewhere close by in the house, which put a smile on his face. Even though he really appreciated the rest, he did look forward to her company. The sound of approaching footsteps drew Rigel's attention and he looked over at the door just as it opened and Cordelia stood in the doorway. "Time to get up, Rigel."  

"Yes, Miss." Rigel smiled and sat up, stretching a bit as he did so. Some old injuries still ached a bit, but it wasn't something that would hinder him when fighting. He stood up and followed Miss Cordelia into the kitchen, where he knelt down next to her chair to eat breakfast, which today consisted of scrambled eggs and bacon. Nice and tasty, and very filling and Rigel made sure to thank Miss Cordelia after to really show his appreciation.

There wasn’t much left to do but wait until later, when they were going to leave for the fight. Miss Cordelia was busy running errands and making phone calls, not anything Rigel was needed for. So with her permission he laid down on the soft rug in front of the fireplace; a very cozy place indeed. In the background Rigel could hear the sound of conversation, but since it didn’t concern him, he didn’t listen in. Instead Rigel’s brown eyes were focused on the fire, how the orange flames flickered across the wood in an intricate dance. The warmth of the fire was pleasant against his skin and Rigel smiled to himself. Absentmindedly, he brushed his fingers over the rug, enjoying the feeling of the fabric against his fingers..

The day continued much in the same fashion, until it was time to get ready for the fight. After a quick meal and changing clothes into some dark comfortable ones Rigel sat in the backseat of Miss Cordelia’s sleek black car. 

“Remember, I’m counting on you to win, Rigel.” Cordelia said from the front seat as she started the car. Her voice was sweet, but there was no room for arguing or failiure

“Yes, Miss.” Rigel replied dutifully. He was going to do his very best to win, like always. The last thing he wanted to do was to dissapoint her, that never ended well. And rightfully so. He knew that he deserved the punishment if he failed

While Miss Cordelia drove, Rigel looked out through the dark tinted windows while fiddling with the metal ring in his collar. It was always interesting to see the outside world, and he felt perfectly safe knowing that no one could see into the car. His eyes trailed over passing cars, trees and streetlights and some people out walking the streets. It all looked very nice but Rigel had no wish to be out there, he was more than content to live with Miss Cordelia, where he was supposed to be.

Rigel focused on Miss Cordelia’s voice as she instructed him to get out of the car and he did so without hesitation. Rigel followed her through the parking garage where the sound of her red heels echoed through the room. Once they were out of there they were met with people laughing and talking, and some looking really scared. Between the laughter and cheerful conversation he could hear sobs and screams, someone pleading to be let go. Rigel didn’t pay them any mind, he knew that some people really didn’t like the fighting. Personally he didn’t mind, he gladly did it if it meant keeping Miss Cordelia happy and proud of him. Not everyone shared that same feeling towards their owners, it seemed. But in the end it didn’t matter, it wasn’t like it was up to them to decide anyway. So why complain and fight about it, when all that meant was more trouble? Besides, this wasn’t a bad life, just how things were supposed to be.

Rigel kept his eyes more or less cast down as they walked, it was the polite thing to do after all. As they approached the ring, they were met with some familiar faces.

“Douglas!” Cordelia smiled and hugged the man, who Rigel knew was her brother. He greeted the man with a polite “Hi Mr. Sinclair.” and did the same to the younger man by Douglas’ side; Mallory, Mr.Sinclair’s son. That was all he said though, and then Rigel stood back in silence while Miss Cordelia and her family members exchanged pleasantries. If they wanted him to talk they would address him, so until then Rigel knew to stay quiet; seen but not heard.

Then it was time for the fight, so Rigel followed Miss Cordelia to the Ring, a small arena-like area surrounded by a sturdy but relatively see-through fence; to make sure no one could escape. Rigel walked into the Ring and the opening closed and locked behind him. He stopped, waiting for the signal to start the fight. Though he was less focused on the person on the loudspeaker announcing who was fighting and more on the man on the other side of the ring. He was nearly a head shorter than Rigel and trembled like a leaf in the wind. Not much of a fighter, it looked like.

“P-please, don’t- don’t do this!” the man begged, but Rigel didn’t care much for his pleas. It wasn’t up to him, or any of them to stop this. It never was.

When the bell rang, Rigel approached the man, who tried to back away and plead for his life, though it didn’t phase Rigel much, he just did what he had to do. Then, with one swing at the man the fight started. To his credit the man really did try his best, but Rigel’s first assessment had been right; he wasn‘t much of a fighter. Didn’t take many minutes, or many punches before the man laid in a crumpled heap on the floor, whimpering in pain while Rigel was pretty much unscathed. The bell dinged and Rigel stepped back, away from the man who was dragged out while Rigel was declared winner; something that was accompanied by cheers. The next fight was considerably harder and took more focus than the first. Duck, punch, kick, bite, duck. Rigel didn’t fully manage to avoid one of the man’s punches. It landed right on his jaw, catching his lower lip that split open from the force of the blow. Rigel stumbled backwards and spat out a glob of blood. It didn’t do much to stop him though, Rigel just stepped forward again and took another swing at the man.

Rigel completely lost track of time, and by the time the bell rang out and he was announced as winner he was out of breath and a little worse for wear. He could still taste blood in his mouth from his split lip and his chest ached from one too many punches. The pain didn’t matter too much though, he had won.That’s what was important, and made it all worth it. So despite the pain, there was a smile on Rigel’s lips as he was let out of the ring. A smile that only grew when Miss Cordelia praised him. He’d made her happy, which was all Rigel really wanted. This was a good day.

After some more conversation between Miss Cordelia and her family and some friends, they headed back home. Since the fight had gone so well and Miss Cordelia was in a good mood, Rigel was rewarded with another meal which he ate happily while sitting on the floor next to her chair as always. Once Miss Cordelia had stopped eating she stood up and Rigel glanced up at her for a moment before he returned his attention to the food and ate the last bite of the lasagna he'd been given.

"Rigel, since you were so good today I got you something," Rigel looked up at Miss Cordelia. "A treat." With a smile, she handed him something and Rigel instinctually took it. Upon closer inspection it seemed to be a chocolate bar. A rare treat indeed. Wide eyed, Rigel looked up at her again. "Thank you, Miss."

"You've earned it." She smiled, then Miss Cordelia left Rigel with his treat.

A happy smile settled on his lips and Rigel carefully tore open the wrapper to reveal the chocolate bar. He took a small bite and was delighted to find that the chocolate bar was filled with some type of caramel and nuts. It was delicious! Rigel savored every single bite of that chocolaty, sugary goodness. 

The rest of the night was spent on the couch with his head in his master's lap. Cordelia's fingers softly brushed through his hair, her red fingernails scratching at his scalp. It helped Rigel relax despite the pain throbbing in his chest and knuckles, and the stinging in his bottom lip. Rigel closed his eyes and a smile played on his lips. It felt so nice. Later that night when he laid down on the mattress by Miss Cordelia's bed, Rigel was still smiling slightly to himself, happy with how the day had turned out.

[wolken-himmel]

In which (Y/n) and Riddle get lost in the forest during Vargas Camp and now have to find their way back.

Upon being scared by a monster, Riddle feverishly confesses his feelings to (Y/n) before they can die.

Request by anon.

"We're only lost because we had to follow your stupid rule..."

There was a small frown on your face as Riddle and you ventured through the woods, a little bit lost and aimless with your sense of orientation. It was past sunset already, and everything — from tall tree to measly bush — could only be deciphered by their vague silhouettes. You would have been scared out of your mind if it weren't for having company.

Riddle seemed to grow angry at your frustrated complaints, finally breaking the silence of the night. "That rule definitely is not stupid!" he exclaimed while shooting you a furious glare that soon made you shut your mouth. You strangely weren't afraid of him — no, you found him adorable and precious when he grew angry, not that you would ever tell him that. He crossed his arms and rolled his eyes. "Things can seriously go wrong if you continue your way despite the glass on the floor..."

"Yeah right..." you scoffed playfully and punched his shoulder, which drew a surprised gasp from him, along with a soft blush that the darkness concealed well. The hoot of an owl made you avert your attention from Riddle and instead gaze at your surroundings again, trying to make sense of your current location. You failed, scratching your head in desperation. "I think we got lost... where are Silver, Sebek, and Grim?"

Riddle stayed calm in regards of having lost the trail back to the place where the entire group had set up camp. "Finding our way back to camp can't be that hard, right? Don't worry, we'll find them on our way back," he said, although he did grumble about the inconvenience that this whole mishap brought you. "And they better have found that flower..."

You nodded and sighed in frustration, although you brightened up when your hand brushed against the red-head's ever so slightly, making a shiver run down your back. A giggle escaped your lips as you dared to wrap your hand around his, the night allowing you to be bolder than usually. Riddle gasped but didn't pull away.

When your thumb rubbed circles over the back of his hand, you swore you could hear a small shriek escape his lips. A solemn smile on your lips, you whispered, "You know, Riddle... spending time alone with you like this is actually really nice." You finally turned your gaze to him, able to spot the way he had tensed considerably. "Back at NRC, you're always so busy and surrounded by people. But now, it's just us."

Riddle nodded stiffly. "Y-Yeah—"

You found amusement in the way he seemed unresponsive, and you decided to take it a step further by edging closer to him as you walked, your hands still intertwined. By then, your arms were pressed against one another. Riddle's mind seemed to have completely stopped working.

"Aw, have I broken you?" you cooed teasingly.

Riddle furiously shook his head, desperate to prove you wrong in an attempt to defend his dignity. "S-Stop that at once!" he screeched with a red face. "Or it's off with your head!"

His threats made you laugh. "You can't use magic, remember?" Grinning from ear to ear, you raised your other free hand and wagged your index finger in front of his blazing eyes.

Riddle seemed not entertained by your antics and merely rolled his eyes once again, for the umpteenth time tonight; nonetheless, he didn't shirk or pull away from you ever. But he did vocalise his annoyance by groaning. "Ugh..." Yet, the playfully annoyed frown disappeared from his face when the sound of footsteps padding against the grass filled his ears. He immediately stopped in his tracks, pulling you to a stop, too. "Wait— did you hear that?"

You turned around and shot him a confused look. "Hear what?"

Riddle furrowed his eyebrows and pushed his finger to his lips, wanting you to quiet down since so that he could listen to the footsteps again. You looked at him curiously, although your eyes held a little bit of disbelief in them, merely playing his warning off as paranoia. Yet, Riddle sounded so confident when he said, "It sounded like a monster..."

"I think you're imagining it." Your words brought you another angry glare, which made you giggle in amusement. An idea finally coming to your mind, you bent down to pick up a sturdy branch from the floor, showing your new weapon off to Riddle. Patting him on the shoulder, you announced, "But I'll protect you, don't worry!"

Riddle put his hands on his hips and began to growl at you; why would you never take him seriously? So, intending to lecture you about your carelessness, he totally forgot about the creature stalking closer to you two as he began, "I don't need protection! I can very well protect myself— Ah!"

The boy gasped when you pushed him aside upon finding, indeed, a large creature with antlers — sadly, you could only make out the vague silhouette — about to grab your friend from behind. Once Riddle was out of harm's way, you raised the stick into the air and brought it down onto the monster's head with a force unmatched due to the adrenaline that coursed through your veins. The monster let out a pained howl, and you used the moment of distraction to grab Riddle's hand and run away.

"Run, Riddle!" you screamed as you let your legs mindlessly carry you through the thick shrubbery. Riddle followed you wordlessly, still too frightened by the sudden encounter to resist your attempts of escape. Eventually, you deemed the distance you had created between you and the monster large enough to slow your pace into a walk again. You turned around to face Riddle, shooting him a relieved smile. "We should have escaped..."

Still, Riddle seemed to be caught in a state of fear and panic, afraid for his life. You were about to point out that, miraculously, you had made it back to camp again. Yet, Riddle interrupted you by grabbing your shoulders and shaking you back and forth, his panicked eyes boring into yours.

"(Y-Y/n), in case we don't make it out alive—" he croaked out, his voice breaking at the end. "I just wanted to tell you that I really really like you! I like you so much that I find it hard breathing whenever you're around— so when you asked me to go for a little walk with you earlier, I almost fainted!"

Your eyes grew in worry, and you put your hand on his shoulder to hopefully comfort him. He was trembling like a leaf while his eyes always darted around the area, as if afraid that the monster had caught up to you. "Riddle, calm down—" you began, but were once again cut off.

Riddle took a sharp breath before he continued pouring his heart out to you — if he died tonight, he wanted you to know of how he truly felt about you; this wasn't a secret he wanted to take to his grave. So, summoning his courage, he yelled, "I can't help but stare at you whenever I see you! And— And then I always give my best because I just want you to be proud of me... but I'm just a weakling that could never impress you..."

"Riddle, please—"

"So, if we ever get eaten by a bear or a hungry Floyd, just know that I really like you— hell, I am desperately in love with you!" he finally confessed, shaking and close to crying. Once those words had escaped his throat, he closed his eyes and exhaled in relief, finally calming down after that panic attack. "Yes, now I can die in peace..."

"Riddle..." you whispered meekly, not wanting ro interrupt his moment of peace. His eyes fluttered open, and you pointed to the colourful tents just a few metres away from you. "Did you know that we're back at camp again? We're safe from that strange creature."

Riddle tensed upon realising what he just had done. "I—" He gulped, awkwardly removing his hands from your shoulders and taking a step away from you. Embarrassed to death, he always made sure to avoid your pressing gaze. "I should go—"

As he was about to leave, you grabbed his collar and pulled his face closer to yours. "Not so fast, young man," you whispered before you, in an unexpected turn of events, pressed your lips against his to capture them in a sweet yet awkward kiss. When you pulled away again and opened your eyes, you found his eyes ripped wide open in shock. Giggling, you patted his cheek. "Now, good night~!"

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Laisse tomber les filles 5

Warnings: non-consent sex and rape; size kink; age gap; manipulation; tags to be added as story progresses

This is a dark!fic and Lee Bodecker x (short) reader and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Synopsis: You find yourself ostracized on campus by your shyness, but your reticence won’t deter an unwanted suitor.

Note: That slow creep, tho

Thanks to everyone for reading and thanks in advance for all your feedback. :)

I really hope you enjoy. 💋

<3 As usual, I’d appreciate if you let me know what you think with a like or reblog or reply or an ask! Love ya!

You looked down at your body and fidgeted. The skirt was so short you pulled on a pair of stockings in an effort to hide your legs, and it was tight like the blouse. Both pieces seemed to be just a size too small. The boots were higher than any heels you’d worn before and you felt awkward in the get-up.

Noon. That was when he told you the night before as he kept stalling you from leaving. Every time you were ready to push open the car door, he had something else to say. You agreed to noon just to appease him so you could run and hide in your dorm.

You pulled on your long pea coat and stuffed your textbooks into your canvas bag with the leather straps. You hiked it up on your shoulder and slung your pocketbook from your other. You stepped out into the hallway and wobbled on the heels. You clung to the handle as you kept yourself upright.

“Wow, you look special,” Gina remarked as she peeked through the kitchen door.

“Um, thanks,” you pulled your coat closed and buttoned it, “it’s… new.”

“It’s cute,” she said as Lisa came to peek through the doorway as well.

“Where are you going?” the second girl asked.

“To study,” you said as you carefully made your way to the heavy door that led to the stairwell.

“Oh, study, huh?” she teased, “can’t be alone then.”

“I’m gonna be late,” you kept your chin down.

“Don’t let us hold you up,” Gina said as you opened the door and stepped out.

“I didn’t know she had anywhere to go,” Lisa’s trilled and her voice slipped into the hall just before the wood slid back into the frame.

You exhaled through your nose and braced the railing for your slow and treacherous descent. As you got to the bottom, you teetered and pressed yourself to the wall as two girls came through the door. You watched them flit up the stairs and scurried out into the spring air.

The weather was as bitter as before. It smelled like wet grass and mud. The sun beamed down warmly and made you sweat in your jacket. You gripped the strap of your bag and cleared the single step to even ground.

“Honey,” the voice drew your eyes up from your boots and you blinked. 

The sheriff stood by his cruiser as he watched you. He didn’t wear his uniform, instead a pair of grey slacks and pure white button-up under his usual leather. He smiled and came to the end of the walk as you hesitantly closed the gap. Your heel caught in a crack and you stumbled. He caught you and gave a soft laugh.

“You okay?” he asked as he held your elbow in one hand and his other went to the small of your back.

“I’m fine,” you righted yourself and parted from him, “just didn’t see the crack.”

“Here,” he tugged on your heavy knapsack, “let me take this.”

You let him, unsure what to say. He was early. Your watch assured you he was a whole twenty minutes ahead of schedule. Your own timing was purely habit as you hated to keep others waiting.

“Thank you,” you squeaked as he put the bag in the back seat.

“So, can I see it?” he asked as he shut the door.

“What?” your brows knitted in confusion.

“The clothes,” he said lightly, “that is what you’re hidin’ under there, right?” he pointed at a large round button on your pea coat, “it’s too warm to be wearin’ all that.”

“Can I wait… until we’re at your, um, place?” you clutched the round collar of your coat anxiously.

“Oh, for my eyes only, huh,” he teased with a wink.

“No, I just… can we go?”

“Course, honey,” he brushed by you and opened the front door, “get in.”

You sat and pulled your legs in, hooking them around the edge of the seat stiffly as you crossed one over the other. The door closed and you picked at the metal clasp of your pocket book and chewed your lip. Why were you doing all this? You were an adult, he said it himself, you could say no…

You glanced around, his sheriff’s hat sat on the dashboard and you shook your head. No, you couldn’t. He was a cop and your discomfort wasn’t a reason to be uncourteous. Your mother always told you to push yourself out of your safe zone. She hated how you always held yourself back because you were scared. It was difficult enough to get you out of the house and into a dorm.

Once he was in the car, there was no turning back. You coudn’t lie about feeling sick or claim a forgotten study group, you were on your way and suddenly you were filled with panic. What if he wasn’t taking you to his house? Did that star on his hat really mean he was a good person?

“Um,” the syllable slipped from you nervously.

“What is it, hon?” he asked as he gripped the grooved wheel.

“Um, I don’t…” you stuttered as you searched for words. You couldn’t let him know what you were really afraid of, “so, uh, I would’ve thought that… you have a wife?”

His brows flicked up as you peeked over at him. He pushed his bottom lip out and hummed. He clicked his tongue and sighed.

“Well, I did,” he admitted, “but I don’t like to talk about it too much. She, er, she’s married to my deputy now.”

“Oh, I’m sorry,” you said quietly, “I didn’t…”

“It’s all over now,” he shrugged, “you know, I’ve moved on. We’re both happier for it.”

“That’s… good, then,” you murmured.

“Must be, I met you,” he smiled, “huh?”

“Well, I…” your hand shook and hid it up your sleeve, “I don’t know, I’m a bit young, aren’t I?”

“Young?” he said, “you don’t act it. You’re a lot more mature than lots of ladies I know. The way you carry yourself… you work hard I can tell. I don’t see your age, just a good woman.”

“Hmm,” you pursed your lips tightly.

“I mean it,” he insisted, “you got character beyond your age.”

“Thank you, but I… I don’t know,” you picked at the cuff of your coat.

“You brought your books?” he said, “must’ve. That bag sure is heavy. I got a place for ya all set up.”

“Oh?”

“I’ll be workin’ on supper, I hope you don’t mind the noise,” he drawled, “you know, I don’t cook often so I might be a bit… lost.”

“You don’t have to cook for me,” you offered, “really, it’s… too much.”

“I wanna, honey,” he said, “ain’t it special? A fellow cookin’ for his lady?”

“Uh, oh,” you frowned, “sure.”

“And you can turn the radio on if you like,” he continued, “it’s new.”

You nodded and listened meekly. Every argument you had for him was quickly shot down. He was so good at telling you how you were wrong or what to do while making it feel like good advice. Each demand, each want, was presented as common sense. It was impossible to argue with him because deep inside, you couldn’t argue with yourself. 

While your gut told you something was off, your head assured you of your paranoia. You didn’t know any better, did you? You didn’t know how these things worked, how men and women got along, so of course it would feel strange to you. But he knew and he was so confident about it, he must be right.

📚

Lee’s house was nice, just outside the city limits. It reminded you of the suburban homes you passed on your way to high school in your hometown. You only ever lived in an apartment with your parents and so found the place extravagant compared to boxy until attached hallways noisy with troublesome neighbours.

He led you onto the porch, the wood painted white, and opened both the screen door and thicker wood one ahead of you. You were forced to brush against him as you entered. He was quick to trail you, the screen snapping shut behind him. He hung his leather coat and tugged on the back of your collar as he plunked down your bookbag.

“Go on then,” he said, “let me see it, honey.”

You closed your eyes and steeled yourself. You forced a smile as you undid the first button and slowly turned to him. You unhooked each until the coat fell open and you let it fall down your arms. You quickly swept it up and he took it to hang beside his own.

He faced you and gripped your shoulders as he looked down at you. You shied away as his eyes roved down your body and you took a step back as you crossed your arms.

“They’re a bit tight,” you said.

“You look mighty fine,” he slithered, “look like they fit just nice.”

“Erm,” you rocked on the balls of your feet.

He smiled and knelt to untie his shoes. You unzipped the boots and stepped out of them, stretching your arches as before you brought them flat. You pushed them beside his shoes as his strong cologne tickled your nose.

“Just in here, honey,” he waved you through a doorway, “come on.”

He went back to grab your bag and pointed you in ahead of him as he returned to you. He went to the sofa and dropped the bag on the cushion. 

“You can get settled in,” he sidled away from the coffee table, “the radios there,” he gestured to the console table along the wall, “record player too.”

“Thanks, I should be fine,” you neared and sat on the edge of the couch.

“I’ll be through there, in the kitchen,” he peeked over at another door, “you need anything, just holler.”

“I will,” you twined your fingers through each other, “thank you.”

He smirked and shoved his hands in his pockets as he lingered on the other side of the table, “you do look nice in that,” he looked you up and down again, “you don’t even need the stockings with how warm it’s gettin’.”

“Thanks,” you mumbled and brought your fingers to tap your lip, “guess I should get started.”

You reached for the flap of your book bag and slid out a heavy textbook. You sensed him watching you before his feet slowly turned away and he strode from the room. You opened the book and flipped through the pages mindlessly. 

This house was far enough from the city, far enough that you were stranded, and much of the area was new to you. The realisation made you tremble as you counted the page numbers.

[wittyrosebush]

Dream SMP Reacting to a Witch!Hybrid

Pronouns: they/them

Includes: Dream, Quackity, Wilbur, qnd Tommy (PLATONIC)

Warnings: Meantion of drugs, swearing

A/N: This is based off of the canon characters and is set in the time of the Pogtopia/Manburg war!!! I might write a second part if this goes well. Also, this is the first thing I have written for this fandom, so I hope I get the character personalities correct. This is not beta read, so please don't attack me on my poor grammar skills. 😅

I hope you all enjoy!!! 💙

Dream

He was mining when he first met you

Dream heard a malicious cackle on the dark side of the cave and slowly drew his sword

He decided to charge towards the strange noise and was quickly met with an invisible body under him

He furrowed his brows and felt the body shuffle out from under him

"BEGONE STRANGE MAN"

"... excuse me?"

After a moment, Y/N's potion has worn off

"Fuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuck-"

Dream chuckled and put away his sword, deciding the person in front of him wasn't a threat

After Y/n calmed down, the two had a talk, explaining the situation

Turns out, you had thought of a joke while mining for redstone (hence the laughter)

"So where is your hat and huge nose? You are really attractive for a witch."

"Luckily, I got my attributes from my father. What was that last part?."

"Wait, what about your hat?"

"I haven't done laundry in a few days.... hold up did you just say I was attractive?"

Ever since then Dream has had you by his side partly because he is a little clingy creating potions for him and the rest of the dream team

"How do you feel about cursing children?"

"I'm not that kind of witch, Dream."

"But what if he was being a little blonde bitch?"

"DREAMWASTAKEN I SWEAR TO GOD-"

Loves bringing you stuff to use for your projects

Need blaze rods for a new brewing stand? Done.

Need lapis lazuli so you have a chance for better communication? Done.

Anything you want? Done.

He will literally go to the nether for a few hours and come back with his arms full of whatever you need

And if you don't need anything or just need to take a break, he'll spend the day taking you anywhere that he think you would be happiest

He has you make him a lot of potions, bragging to everyone on the server how much better at creating potions you are

"Y/n's potions last longer, are more effective, prettier-"

"Are you sure? I think-"

"Tell me what you think, I fuckin dare you >:( ."

Overall, he is your #1 supporter

Quackity

The day had been long, dealing with Schlatt definitely tires a guy out after 5 minutes

On his walk on the outskirts of the Manburg wall, he spotted a suspicious row of blaze powder leading to the woods

Dawning his armor and a sword, he followed the trail to a small hut

He could see the outline of someone in the hut nervously pacing around

Deciding what he thought was the best possible option, he knocked on the door of the hut

There was immediately the sound of glass bottles falling on the floor and muffled words

Soon, the door swung open to reveal a disheveled being with a nervous grin

And Quackity went from tough to awkward

"C-Can I help you with something?"

"Uh, do you waNT SOME DRUGS?"

"ExCuSe Me?!"

Everything was going to shit

After a moment of awkward staring, a glass bottle tumbled off the brewing stand

Upon focusing on what was going on behind the two people trying and failing to act normal, they both saw that every brewing stand was on fire

"ARE YOU ACTUALLY MAKING DRUGS?!"

"NO I'M JUST REALLY BAD AT THIS POTION."

Finally putting the fire out together, the two looked at their now soot stained clothes

The witch hybrid ran a hand through their hair and sighed

"Well this is completely ruined."

Quackity frowned a little hesitant to offer his help

"If you need to you could borrow some brewing stands-"

"Really? *-* "

On the walk back to Manburg, you explained who you were

Quackity was still a little confused

"Wait but what potion were you even brewing?"

"Fire resistance."

He immediately burst out laughing, which ended up with you slapping his arm repeatedly

Eventually, you two became the definition of the "friends to lovers" trope

You often helped him de-stress after stressful days in office with Schlatt

He'd try whatever you recommended

"I'd suggest putting quartz on your nightstand."

"Cool!"

Later that night, you forgot something at his house

Once you walked into his house, you could see stacks of quartz next to his bed.

He really trusted any advice you could give him

And on days where people would criticize you for being part witch?

Big Q will attack anyone

Even if he knows he will lose

And at random parts of the day he'll just tell you oddly inspirational thoughts

"You are a bad bitch, dare I say a bad witch. Own that shit."

"That is oddly motivational, thank you. :) "

Wilbur

The former president was strolling along the side of a river, trying to form a coherent plan of action

Upon noticing a person trudging out of the water fumbling with glass bottles, Wilbur jogged over to them and put a careful hand on their shoulder

"Are you okay?"

The person moved the soggy hat out of their face and smiled

"Yeah, I just fell in the water while trying to fill up some of the bottles, but thanks for checking on me!"

He hummed in response, wondering why he was already so interested in the being before him

"Well I should probably get going, but thank you!"

"Wait! What's you name?"

"It's Y/n, and you are..?"

"Wilbur Soot, it was an honor meeting you, Y/n."

This man spent the rest of the night thinking about you and who the hell you were

He didn't know much about the mysterious person, but he did know that they were one of the most alluring people he had met in a long time

It was weeks since he saw you, Wilbur nearly gave up searching

That was until you walked into him on a rainy day

The brunette immediately went in defensive position and pulled the stranger to his chest, despite the dampened clothes

"Um, Mr. Soot?"

He looked down to see you and his face lit up

"Y/n! It's a pleasure to see you again."

He took a small step back and kissed your hand

No one can convince me that Wilbur "Gentleman" Soot does not flirt by giving hand kisses

The two went into Pogtopia and Wilbur almost immediately wrapped his coat around you

"What were you doing out there? The rain is coming down so hard you must not have been able to see well."

"I was going to ask if I could borrow a few golden carrots for a potion I'm making."

Wilbur nodded and walked towards the stared and whisper shouted down

"TOMMY BRING ME SOME GOLDEN CARROTS!"

"BUT WILBUR, I-"

"PLEASE DON'T MAKE ME LOOK BAD IN FRONT OF THE STUNNING WITCH!"

The boy at the bottom of the stairs grumbled and the tall man sat next to you once more

After a few minutes of Wilbur fawning over everything you did, a blonde male walked up the steps and glared at Wilbur as he handed you the carrots

"Simp..."

Wilbur dramatically gasped as you chuckled next to him

You eventually started coming over to Pogtopia practically every day

Most of the time it was to see Wilbur, but the rest of your time was spent creating potions for the war

As the nation grew, you were brought out of your shell more with Wilbur introducing you to everyone

He didn't want you to feel uncomfortable in a new place

You often walked along the same riverbank where you met

You have definitely pushed each other off a few times

He keeps small things that you enjoy on him at all times

He keeps a tiny bottle of sand from the river you met at, a piece of your old robe, and so much more in his pockets

Whenever he feels like he's in a dark place or justneeds to ground himself he takes out one of the items and just holds it close.

Mans is so in love

Tommy

He met you in the nether while you were farming netherwart

The blonde was thrilled to find a new fortress and decided to raid it before reinforcements came

Seeing a sleeping figure next to a bed of sould sand, he took a few congident steps forward

Once close enough, he poked you with the stick

"You good?"

"I was good when I was asleep."

"AYE I THOUGHT YOU WERE DEAD SO-"

After arguing for what felt like hours, you both stormed off to find both exits being blocked by wither skeletons

Tommy had gotten beaten up pretty bad after the fight so you took him back to your hut to get all patched up

"I didn't even need your help. I'm tougher than I look."

"You legitimately passed out twice on the way here."

"HOW DARE YOU, I WAS RESTING MY EYES!"

After a few hours of healing and a ton of laighter, you two became the most chaotic duo in the smp

This british raccoon child would often steal small potions to pull pranks

But unless they were really important and you needed them back, you'd always join in on the pranks

He tried to get you to make a potion using the 'Tubbo Bath Water' one time

It did not end well

At the point in your friendship where you revealed you were a hybrid, Tommy was so confused

"That makes no sense, witches are still humans, right?"

"Yeah..?"

"So how does that make you a hybrid?"

👁👄👁

"Listen here you little shit-"

He likes to show you off to anyone that can listen

"You think you're special? HA! I have a best friend that is part witch and they will kick your ass. >:)"

He is really interested in everything you do but will never ask

But if you tell him about what you're doing unprovoked?

Tommy would get so happy

He is so excited to learn what you have to teach and would be one of the best friends ever

[dangercocktail]

Ranger Danger

The vibrational dance of Noah’s cell phone dragged him away from the horror movie splaying blood across his television. As a young starlet screamed and ran with poor coordination through the woods, Noah scanned the stream of incoming texts. 

“Damn,” he muttered, running a hand over his dark hair. The incoming texts were from work. As his supervisor implored Noah’s help, he discerned they needed him to come in even though he was off duty. Some sort of mild emergency that he couldn’t quite put together. Glancing at his phone’s clock, he read that it was a little after midnight. He quickly replied ‘be there soon’, flipped off the movie, and headed into his bedroom.

Noah slipped off his gym shorts and quickly dressed in the forest ranger uniform all his coworkers wore. He gave himself a routine glance in the mirror to finish buttoning his shirt. Noah filled out his uniform with a lean beefiness acquired from miles of hiking and lifting fallen trees, his sizable biceps straining the short sleeve cuffs of his shirt. With his striking brown complexion, easy smile, and muscles, Noah was a handsome representation of the Forestry Department, frequently called in to give tours to visiting government officials or bored tour groups of sexually frustrated housewives. He always maintained a calm demeanor in the most straining of circumstances, deftly handling questions with charm. He assumed the ‘emergency’ he was needed for now was something that required his level headed thinking. Weaving his belt into the buckle of his trim waist and grabbing his hat, he headed out to his Jeep.

As Noah drove into the darker recesses of the woods where his ranger station was located, he lowered the windows on his Jeep to take in the bracing smell of pine trees and cool night air. He inhaled deeply. He loved these woods. Having worked as a ranger now for almost five years, he felt at home in this forest, having hiked its expansive trails many times over.

Pulling up to Ranger Station #04, Noah saw his District Ranger standing in the soft yellow light of the station doorway waiting for him. Taking the only remaining parking spot next to the station, Noah observed that Ben and Daniel were on duty tonight, their cars parked next to the DR’s own Ranger Jeep. 

“Hey Jim,” Noah said, lifting a hand in acknowledgment as he approached the station. “How’s it going? You were slightly ambiguous in your texts...what’s going on?”

“Hey Noah, thanks for coming on such short notice,” Jim said, his smile tired but friendly. Jim was middle aged and handsome, having served in the military for several years before leaving service for a position in the Forestry Department. His body was slightly thicker than Noah’s in the middle due to Jim’s fondness for doughnuts but the small rounded softness there was offset by thick arms that easily heaved many forest obstacles.

“Ben and Daniel missed their last two audio checks so I drove over to check the station,” Jim explained, walking with Noah into the small station. He gestured to the radio log. “Last I heard from them was at nine thirty, then radio silence.”

Noah raised an eyebrow but only slightly. This wasn’t a big emergency, the guys were probably taking their time on their latest rounds. Ben and Daniel were known for getting high on these late night shifts, then strolling deep into the woods observing the enhanced beauty of the stars.

“Where’s their observation log?” Noah said, shuffling a few of the scattered papers on the desk to the side.

“Here,” Jim said, handing a clipboard to Noah. Noah flipped through a few of the sheets before reading the top page. Ben and Daniel had logged every hourly observation walk up until 10 pm. The last two spots for the day, the eleven and midnight observation, were conspicuously blank. Still, Noah wasn’t alarmed.

“They’re probably sitting under a tree marveling at the Big Dipper,” Noah said with a smile at Jim, looking up from the clipboard. He handed it back to Jim who set it on the desk.

“You’re not wrong but let’s follow protocol and run our own observation. Shouldn’t be too hard to find these two” Jim said, adding a new sheet to the clipboard. “I apologize for making you come out here but safety first right? Two man teams always”.

Jim scribbled the time, his rank, and initials in the one o’clock slot then handed it over to Noah for his own initials. Both of them grabbed a flashlight and radio, locked the station door, and headed out into the woods, following the well worn starter path every ranger had trod day in and out.

The night air settled around the two rangers in a cool mist as fallen pine needles crunched underneath their boots. They made small chatter occasionally but mostly remained quiet, something Noah appreciated about Jim. They both enjoyed the quiet of the forest, preferring the majesty of their surroundings to the noise most humans make to fill the air.

Nearly halfway through their observational walk with no sign of other rangers, Noah stopped and looked closely at a break in the trail. The trampled and well worn path of the trail continued on but to the right, the undergrowth was disturbed. Pointing it out to Jim, the two concurred that this was a recent disturbance of the forest and most likely Ben and Daniel had veered off trail, high and looking for a place to watch stars. Picking their way through the flora, the two rangers followed the new trail.

Despite the circumstances, Noah was enjoying the walk into this new part of the forest. It was rare for the rangers to disturb parts of the forest beyond the trail without good cause. Finding Ben and Daniel was sufficient cause enough to walk in these uncharted paths and Noah took in his surroundings with a slight feeling of contentment and awe. The forest really was beautiful.

The upended pine needle path continued for some time, Noah estimating nearly fifteen minutes since they had veered from the main trail. He was starting to feel slightly concerned and opened his mouth to say something to Jim when he heard a sharp slapping sound. Glancing over, he saw Jim removing his left hand from his right arm.

“God damn mosquito,” Jim uttered, wiping the remains of the crumpled creature onto his pants. 

“Yea, consistently the worst thing out he-...” Noah started saying then cocked his ear as his sentence dropped off.

“Do you hear that?” he asked Jim, tilting his head further. Jim froze in place and listened as well. Somewhere in front of them, not too far, there was a low rumbling noise. It sounded almost guttural to Noah, like water pouring from a giant jug.

Putting a finger to his lips to keep silent, Noah began carefully walking forward with Jim right behind him. The noise grew slightly louder with each step they took until suddenly, it stopped. They stopped in their tracks. Noah cocked an eyebrow at Jim and motioned with a questioning gesture of his hand, “keep going?”

Jim nodded and the two men pressed forward through the darkness of the forest and bush. Noah noted in a corner of his mind that he had never been to this part of the forest on any of his inquiries or observations; the wood seemed completely untouched by humans save for the newly beaten down path they were following. Jim stopped for a moment and appeared to be fidgeting with his belt but at Noah’s curious look, he waved them forward and they continued. Eventually they reached a small clearing by a pond that immediately struck Noah with its serene natural splendor. However as they stepped out into the clearing, they both heard and saw them at the same time. It took Noah a beat to fully comprehend what he was looking at. 

Near the edge of the pond lay a blanket and small radio, still playing the local college station. On either side of the blanket were two enormous spheres of flesh, completely naked and wobbling slightly as Jim and Noah approached. 

“What the fuck…” Noah said as he approached the shapes slowly, observing them not moving from their spot but jiggling and shaking in place.

“Oh shit, it’s fucking Ben and Daniel,” Jim uttered as he drew closest to the quivering shape on the right. Noah’s face took on incredulity as he drew close to the left. The flesh colored ball was indeed a man but blown up to enormous proportions. His legs and feet hovered almost a foot off the ground from the immensity of his ass, Noah judging it to be almost eight feet wide. The legs themselves were encased in roll after roll of fat to the point that Noah couldn’t discern where the knees might have been, the feet themselves swollen almost unrecognizable and sinking into the fat above them. Moving his eyes up, Noah took in a belly that covered half of the fattened legs and spread out in all directions, matching the width of that enormous ass, with a belly button itself six inches wide and receding darkly into the piles of belly fat. 

Two enormous breasts sat atop the behemoth of a belly, swollen and perky like two plastic grocery bags filled with pudding. They shook slightly in the night air as Noah observed the entire body jiggle, then suddenly swell out a little more. The feet at the bottom of this mass had almost disappeared. Two arms lay to the side of the massive torso, seemingly stuck and disappearing into the expanding rolls of fat as well. As his eyes traveled finally up to the face, Noah saw the faint hint of the face that used to be Ben. His neck had ceased to exist as roll after roll of fat took up the space above his breasts and connected with his cheeks. Ben’s cheeks had become intensely rosy, swollen to a state that it looked like he had a baseball in each.

Noah saw Ben glance down at him and begin to grunt, uttering something that Noah couldn’t make out. 

“Ben, what the fuck happened…” Noah said in shock, recalling the two fit men who he had joked with a week ago in passing shifts. This quivering mass of fat was at least eight times fatter than Ben had been.

“Moosh..” Ben uttered, slurping and trying to enunciate with his fat forced pouty lips. 

“Moosh!” he forcefully said, his eyes darting wildly as that rumbling Noah had heard before in the woods sounded. It was coming from Ben’s belly. Glancing over quickly at Jim and Daniel, he saw Daniel’s belly start jiggling then begin swelling in all directions. The man was expanding massively. His arms and legs disappeared into the expansive fat of his belly, leaving him almost completely ball-shaped. He was nearly nine feet around, with only hands and feet still visible on his appendages. His breasts, the same size as Ben’s, inflated as they jiggled, nearing the size of basketballs.

Noah looked back to Ben, absentmindedly slapping the back of his neck as an insect bit him. The now almost unrecognizable ball of fat that was Ben was going wild eyed, trying in vain to shout something, his lips forced even more open from the recent gains to his cheeks.

“Msssh!” he sputtered, his whole body quivering. 

“I can’t understand you..what the hell happened here Ben?” Noah asked in horror, then turned sharply when he heard Jim cry out.

Jim stood next to the enormous ball that was Daniel, holding his stomach and looking down in shock.

“Jim, what’s wrong?” Noah yelled, beginning to walk over. 

“I..don’t...know…” Jim uttered, right before the first button on his ranger uniform popped off. It was quickly followed in succession by a second and third button as Jim’s dough middle rapidly swole into a beach ball shape. His love handles quickly expanded to the sides as his chest developed two breast shaped mounds. His cheeks fattened and a double chin wobbled into place as Noah heard Jim’s pants rip as his ass followed suit. In the matter of thirty seconds, Jim suddenly looked to be over three hundred pounds.

“Oh fuck, Noah, it’s happening to me!”  Jim yelled, waddling slightly over to where Noah stood. 

“The hell is happening here?” Noah exclaimed, his eyes shooting from the fat man in front of him to the unrecognizable blobs of men to his side. The rumbling noise came back then, but this time, it started with Jim. Jim’s eyes went wide as he clutched with chubby fingers at the fattened sphere now occupying his front. The noise rose exponentially as it began coming from Ben and Daniel as well. Noah watched as Jim’s belly began growing again, pounds and pounds of fat piling on in waves. Jim began waving his arms in shock as his entire body inflated and began to take on a generally round shape, his feet slowly slipping on the wet grass of the clearing until he fell with a thud onto his immensely fattened ass. Noah observed him begin rising in the air as the fat continued to grow and Jim began to become another ball.

Ben and Daniel themselves had also grown more, their faces beginning to sink into the sheer mass of their rolls of fat. Ben was still trying to tell Noah something but it was just sputtering noises at this point. Noah backed away from the insane scene like he had observed something otherworldly, his eyes wide and his feet stumbling occasionally. A pit in his stomach had developed which he attributed to terror but as he turned to begin running, something brought him up short. A small popping sound rang through the air as he tried to run and he felt something heavy bounce on the front of his body. Looking down, he cried as watched his own midsection, now the size of a fleshy basketball, wobble and grow double in size. 

“No…” Noah uttered, stumbled a bit as his chest began to swell. He looked back to Jim who now was completely naked and becoming fully ball shaped.

“No!” Noah yelled, as he heard the rumbling begin again in Ben, Daniel, and Jim’s bellies. He grasped at his shirt as it fully ripped open, then felt his fingers clutch his doughy middle when he heard the rumbling start in his own belly. Turning to face the other fattened spheres that were once rangers, Noah felt his entire body begin jiggling then quickly begin to grow…

[hansols-yoda-boxers]

Tales From Bingo Night

AFAB!Reader x Jeon Wonwoo

Word Count: 1917

Contents: handjob, outdoor sex, cum eating

[10:32]

It was quiet as the docks and canoe shed came into view through the dark. You weren’t sure what to say to Wonwoo. The act itself you were fine with but Wonwoo and you had fallen into a comfy friendship and this felt weird. Did he think it was weird too? He was usually pretty awkward when the topic of your sexual exploits came up. You didn’t think he’d want to be stuck doing this.

“You know, we don’t actually have to do this,” you started, not looking at him. Wonwoo didn’t respond so you continued. “Like it’s just a stupid thing on a scavenger hunt. And I can probably get Yanan to do it later anyway, we still have about an hour and a half. So if you don’t want to, I’m okay with that.”

“Are you okay with it?” He finally said.

“I- y-yeah? Why wouldn’t I be?”

You saw his shoulders shrug out of the corner of your eye. “You seem kinda stressed about it. It’s not something you have to do. You know that sentiment goes for you too, right?”

“I- Yeah I know,” you mumbled. “I mean it feels a little strange but I just didn’t expect us to end up in this situation at all this summer.”

Wonwoo slowed as you rounded the shed, looking at the woods between the shed and the edge of the lake. “Yeah I- that makes sense. But, I don’t know, it’s kind of weird but it’s alright. I mean unless you’re terrible at giving handjobs.”

You let out a little laugh, releasing some of your nervous energy. “Okay, hey, I’m good at them. You’ll be satisfied so no need to worry about that.”

“If not I’ll just tell the team you suck and Yanan and Yoohyeon will tell everyone else,” you could see his grin through the darkness.

“Alright, I take it you’re game then,” you snorted. “Do you know how you want to prove it?”

“Hongseok said be appropriate so he’s just going to have to take my word for it.”

“Good to know my reputation rests on a hand job in the woods.”

Wonwoo chuckled as he plopped down in the grass, resting back on his elbows. “You have been talking yourself up to me so…”

“Bragging really isn’t becoming,” you muttered as you kneeled next to him. Your fingers played with the hem of your shorts for a moment while you looked down at his body. “Are you alright if I just start? Do you want me to like, kiss you or something?”

Wonwoo seemed to think about his answer for a moment. “Either is okay. Do you wanna make out?”

“I- uh, maybe? I don’t know, I feel like I usually don’t think this hard about it.” You brought your hands to the waist of his shorts. Your fingers fumbled with the button and zipper.

“Having trouble?” He chuckled.

“Shut up, it’s dark,” you whined, though knowing there was a slight laugh in your voice. You started to shift his shorts down his hips.

“Do you always do it with the lights on?” He questioned.

“Are you going to ask annoying questions the whole time?” You shot back.

“Only if I’m bored,” he chuckled. You stuck your tongue out at him which drew a laugh from him. Your fingers curled around the hem of his boxers and you dropped your gaze down, away from his face, taking in the sight of his cock instead and trying to swallow back your awkward feelings. If anything his joking was keeping you calm. You started to wrap your hand around his cock.

“You’re not just going in dry, are you!?” He cried, a little too loud for your liking.

“Shhhh, shut up,” you hissed. “And… no, I wasn’t.” You pulled your hand away to spit on it.

“And you told me you were good at this,” he muttered.

“I am,” you said. “I’m not gonna hurt you.”

“I’m not convinced.”

You rolled your eyes before taking his cock into your hand again. Slick with your spit it slid easily. You pumped him in slow movements, listening and checking around you for anyone coming closer. The only sound around you was the small waves crashing along the shore and owls hooting in the distance. Any din of people was too far away for anyone to see you.

He grew harder in your hand as the seconds ticked past. Your fingers teasing the underside of his head, the tip, not moving too fast though you knew your time was limited. You kept your movements slow and even.

Wonwoo let out a quiet sigh and you finally ventured to look at him properly again. His body was relaxing more into the ground, sinking into his shoulders. His eyes had fallen closed and the soft breeze ruffled the hair across his forehead.

“See,” you murmured. “I’m not bad at this.”

“You’re alright,” he hummed.

“I’m still getting you warmed up,” you scoffed. “It gets better.”

“Oh does it?” He asked nonchalantly.

“I have half a mind to work you up and not make you cum,” you grumbled, still loud enough for him to hear and laugh.

“Do we get less points if I don’t cum?”

“I-” your hand slowed as you thought. “I don’t know how they’re grading this.”

“Wait, go back to what you were doing,” he said.

You brought your focus back to the task at hand but the ghost of a smirk was curling your lips. “So you do like it.”

Wonwoo opened one eye to look at you. “Well it doesn’t feel bad.”

You shifted yourself, straddling one of his thighs before leaning down and letting more spit drool onto his cock. Even more slick, your fingers moved more easily and you gripped him a little tighter while taking up a steady pace.

When you sat up to look at him he was staring at you, lips parted and letting out the smallest of huffs.

“Did you think I was going to start using my mouth,” you teased.

“I-I- no that’s not-”

“Do you want me to?”

“Shut up,” he mumbled. “I have permission to not use my brain right now.”

“Not really permission if you do it all the time,” you chuckled. 

“I-” Wonwoo let out a moan instead as you squeezed his cock tighter in your hand, twisting your wrist as you stroked him.

“I didn’t peg you as a noisy one,” you teased.

“I- just- let me enjoy myself,” he said, a breathiness entering his tone. You leaned towards him a bit, now watching as pleasure started to show on his features. Your free hand trailed over the top of his thigh before you moved up his body, pushing his shirt up.

“Wh-What are you doing?” he asked.

“Just relax, will you?” you said. “I am doing a good job is what I’m doing.”

“You’re doing j-” you dragged your nails slightly down his stomach as your thumb played with the most sensitive part of his head again. “O-Okay, yeah you’re d-doing good.”

You smiled to yourself smugly as you went back to pumping his cock, a little more quickly and roughly. Your nails trailed over his skin and the night breeze that blew past your drew goosebumps up along his skin. Wonwoo let out more huffs and quiet moans and you felt his hips starting to press up into your hand.

You pulled back just a bit, slowing your movements and catching him eyeing you. “Come on,” he groaned.

“You want me to go faster?” you asked innocently.

“We’re- We don’t have time-”

You chuckled, leaning a little closer to him. “You would be fun to edge, you know that?”

Wonwoo started to sputter. And even in what little light you had you could see the colour on his cheeks at your comment. You still obliged him though, moving your hand now much faster than he was expecting and wrapping your hand around his cock tighter. You added a twist to your movement and Wonwoo let out a moan that was way too loud.

You slammed a hand over Wonwoo’s mouth, hovering over him and meeting his eyes. “Shhhhh, being that loud is going to get us caught,” you hissed.

Wonwoo answered you with a muffled moan and you took in his expression as he did. His eye lids had grown heavy and his gaze was a little hazy, though now focused on you with you being so close. You kept a hand over his mouth to keep him quiet as your other hand kept it’s quick pace and he started to press and rock his hips up to meet your hand.

“Are you close?” you hummed, this time with no teasing. Wonwoo nodded, trying to keep his gaze locked with yours.

“Are you going to be quiet?” you asked. He shook his head and as much as you wanted to sigh, a smirk tugged at your lips instead.

“If I knew you were this loud I would have brought a gag,” you hummed. Wonwoo let his eyes flutter shut but his moaning continued as you leaned in to whisper in his ear.

“I didn’t know you would be this much fun. I’ll have to take you way out in the woods where no one can hear us. And now we have those condoms. I can ride you and you can be as loud as you like.”

Wonwoo let out a moan, loud even with you muffling him, and his hips bucked up as he came. You felt the hot cum running over your hand as you kept pumping his cock, feeling more pour out with each pulse of his cock until one of his hands grabbed your wrist shakily.

“Okay,” he said breathlessly as you took your hand away, “Okay I’m good.”

“Well, almost,” you said, pulling your hand away and looking for somewhere to wipe it. But you didn’t want cum on your clothes and you didn’t want your hand wiping through the dirt so you did the only thing you could think of and stuck your fingers in your mouth.

When you met Wonwoo’s gaze you found him frozen, blushing hard, and watching you as you sucked his cum off your hand.

“Y-You- u-uh-” 

You rolled your eyes as you pulled your fingers out and licked some of the cum off the back of your hand. “It’s the easiest way to clean up.”

“I-I yeah th-that makes sense.”

You looked down at his cock, still coated in his own cum before looking up at him. “Be quiet.”

“Why? What are y- oh,” He let out a shaky, quiet moan as you dragged your tongue along his cock, catching the cum on your tongue. His hips twitched from sensitivity and you moved as gently as you could, finishing by sucking the tip into your mouth before you brought your face up to meet his, fingers grabbing the hem of his boxers.

You were met with Wonwoo’s hands grabbing your cheeks and pulling you in for a kiss that was much sweeter and needier than you could have expected. You froze as you processed what he was doing and as quickly as he had pulled you in he let you go, staring back at you wide eyed.

“I-I’m sorry,” he said faintly. “I didn’t- I-I shoul-”

“We should go find the group,” you said quickly, jumping to your feet.

“Y-Yeah we should,” Wonwoo mumbled shakily, tugging his shorts up.

[fanfic-chan]

Cuddly Comfort

Oh. My God. This may actually be one of the best things I have ever written. It's just so cute and adorable what?! ❤️😭 I really really love how this one turned out, and in the end I'm glad I took the extra time on this one even if it's a little late. I hope you guys like it! 💕 Tickletober prompts are still open!

Ler: Koda (Sort of?)

Lee: Deku

It was a beautiful Saturday afternoon, and Koji Koda, Class 1A's resident shy giant as some liked to call him, had decided to spend his weekend walking through one of the many trails that UA had on campus. He was humming contentedly to himself, listening in on the gossip of the birds and the gentle whistling of the wind in the trees above him, when suddenly he heard it. Faintly at first, but slowly becoming more clear as he drew nearer. 

Someone was crying.

At first, the animal whisperer hero considered just turning around and walking in the opposite direction entirely, because if someone had come all the way out here to cry, then it was pretty obvious to him that they probably  wanted to be alone right now and wouldn't want to be interrupted… But then again, what if they were hurt? He couldn't just leave if there was a chance that someone was injured and needed help. He was a hero after all!

With that thought in mind, he very quietly started heading in the direction that he thought it was coming from. Maybe if he was careful enough, he'd be able to check in on the person without disturbing them if they were just having a moment, then leave as soon as he'd confirmed that they were ok. That plan was instantly shattered, however, when he laid eyes on who it was.

About twenty feet ahead of him, curled up at the base of a tree with his face buried in his knees, was a familiar head of green curls that he immediately recognized as his classmate, Izuku Midoriya.

He had never really been all that close to Midoriya, not like Iida and Uraraka were. That wasn't to say they didn't get along. They did. They just didn't really have that same level of friendship with eachother as they did with other people. Even so, Koda still couldn't help feeling torn. On one hand, he didn't really feel right just leaving his own classmate alone like this now that he'd actually seen him, but on the other, he also didn't feel like it was his place to try talking to the other teen, both due to their lack of closeness and because Koda wasn't exactly the best at dealing with these types of situations in general. 

Midoriya hadn't seemed to have noticed him yet since he was half hidden by a large bush, and while he stood there contemplating whether or not he should reveal himself, Koda felt something furry suddenly brush against his palm, and he startled slightly, looking down to see that a fox had approached him and pushed it's snout into his hand. He had to stifle a giggle when his new friend licked his hand affectionately. Even before his quirk had fully developed, animals had always seemed drawn to him. Situations like this weren't exactly rare for him at this point, and for that, he was grateful. His animal friends had gotten him through more hard days than he could count at this point.

Hmm, hold on. That gave him an idea actually…

Feeling inspired, Koda snuck away again, the fox at his heels, to put his new plan to cheer up his classmate into action.

Deku, for his part, really was trying his hardest to pull himself together.

He wasn't sure why, but from the very moment he'd first walked into the common room that morning to be greeted by the usual playful banter and chaos of his classmates, his mind had seemed to have decided that everything, and everyone, was to much.

It didn't make sense really. He hadn't had this same sense of overwhelming anxiety even once since coming to UA, and it seemed as if it had come completely out of nowhere unlike the many other times a panic attack had been triggered by a particularly hard day back in middleschool.

He hated this. He didn't really want to be alone right now, but at the same time he also didn't want to be around anyone. He didn't want to be asked if he was alright. He didn't want to be asked if there was anything they could do to help. He just wanted.. he wanted..

…He didn't know what he wanted.

Burying his head even further into his knees, he let out a choked whimper, silently praying that by some miracle this awful feeling of hopelessness and confusion would pass soon and he could just go back to normal.

He didn't expect his miracle to come in the form of a small band of woodland animals suddenly appearing right in front of him.

He startled slightly when he felt something cold and wet nudge into his arms, which were wrapped tightly around his knees. He looked up to come face to face with a fluffy red fox, who seemed to have brought a few of his friends along with him; A pretty young doe with soft brown eyes, five birds that were perching themselves on a nearby bush, and a little golden colored bunny with a twitching nose.

"Um.. h-hi?" He greeted them with a hesitant little wave, slowly uncurling himself from his balled up position so he could better assess the situation.

 The fox yipped at him in response before moving forward to start licking at his tearstained face, and Deku couldn't help but break into a wobbly little grin at the funny sensation.

"H-Hey, cuhuhut it out! That tihickles!" He said, trying to gently push the fox's face out of his own but to no avail, and as if encouraged by the fox's playfulness and Deku's gentle laughter, the other animals present seemed to take this as their cue to join in, and soon enough poor Deku found himself curled up on his side laughing as the odd little group descended upon him. 

The little birds were snuggling up against his neck, the doe was nibbling at his ears,  and the bunny, who had somehow managed to push it's way into his lap, was twitching her tiny nose against his tummy through his thin t-shirt. It was all so fluttery and gentle that all Deku could do was lay there and giggle, trying desperately not to let himself squirm to much for fear of hurting them.

"Pffftahahaha! Quhuit it! Okay okay I feeheel better alrihihihight!" He begged, and as if by magic they all seemed to understand him and backed away, watching quietly as he caught his breath. It took a few minutes, but eventually he did sit up, and he was surprised to find that the previous tightness in his chest seemed to have evaporated completely, and when he finally did feel ready to head back to the dorms after his unlikely new friends had left, he couldn't help but feel a bit perplexed by the entire situation. 

It wasn't until hours later, back at the dorms when he and Koda were doing dishes together after dinner, that it finally dawned on him. 

"Hey.. um, Koda?"

His shy classmate turned to look at him, tilting his head questioningly. 

"Erm- In the woods today, um.. D-did you?..." He trailed off, but Koda seemed to know exactly what he was talking about and nodded hesitantly, averting his gaze.

"You... You just seemed upset and I.. I wanted to help somehow so..." He explained in a whisper, twisting his hands together nervously.

"Hey Koda?"

He looked at him again after a moment's hesitation, and his eyes widened slightly when he looked down at Deku's hands. 'Thank you' he signed, smiling gratefully at him with his eyes brimming with tears, and Koda sent his own shy smile back in return.

Maybe they weren't the closest of friends, but one thing was for sure.

They would always be there for eachother when they needed them.

[chil2de]

i think my shadowban lifted since my works are showing up in tags so here’s a repost

req/imagine because im a dumbass and i forgot to screenhot: “i’d imagine gojo as the type to fuck you anywhere, his libido is freaky af”

characters are aged up and reader is a co-worker, whether reader works at jj school or elsewhere is up for your own interpretation

fem!reader

seriously? gojo really doesn’t know the difference between public and private anymore.

you could feel his slender hand dangerously lingering on your waist. he had the faintest smirk tugging at the corners of his lip. his gaze was trained ahead as he spoke to itadori, making small gestures with his other hand simultaneously.

his thumb grazed and curled the fabric of your skirt underneath the counter.

you inhaled sharply, shooting him a glare out of the corner of your vision.

you were just trying to finish up some paperwork and go home to sleep. it had been a long day.

“oh! so you’re saying to cut it at an angle instead of straight?” itadori hummed in realisation, his facial features brightening up.

“mm! if you cut it at an angle, it helps the plant grow and absorb nutrients. also, did you know you can place trimmings of herbs in water and they’ll grow roots? it’s called hydroponics”

“seriously?! you can grow them without soil?”

“yeah but you’ll have to supply the water with nutrients to replace it”

“why the hell are you two talking about growing plants in water? itadori, shouldn’t you be resting?” you snorted, scrawling your pen against the grain of the paper.

gojo’s finger fluttered underneath your skirt.

you felt your breath hitch.

how could he resist his beloved little co-worker? especially in a skirt like that.

the way those thigh high socks squeezed your legs made him crazy.

“aawww, (y/n), don’t be such a buzzkill!” gojo teased

he pulled your underwear aside, his head lightly turning towards you as he slid his middle finger against your slicked cunt.

“me? resting? senpai, shouldn’t you be sitting in a chair or somethin’? you’ve been standing up for ages now” itadori interjected, looking around for a chair to bring to you.

“naaah, she’s fine. (y/n) stands a lot, says she can’t sit for ages ‘cause she doesn’t wanna have frail bones.” gojo hummed.

he grinned, and it wasn’t because of the conversation.

it was because of the way he curled his finger inside you, the way your soaked cunt contracted.

“you sure? i can grab a chair from the hall?” itadori gestured behind him with his thumb.

“she’ll be fine,”

“won’t you?” gojo turned to face you, his hand occupied with fucking into you. he curled and twisted his finger, cruelly making his wrist shake and fingertips curl into a ‘come here’ motion underneath the wooden countertop.

you were lucky that the surface was high enough to mask the way your legs trembled underneath his touch.

you could feel his burning gaze, even through the jet black fabric.

you could feel his mocking smirk, even through his stoic expression.

“actually,” you exhaled, your tone slightly exasperated.

“could you get me a chair? not the one from the hall, though. they’re really terrible for lumbar support. think you could find me one that spins? they’re always fun.”

“lumbar support? you’re starting to sound like nanami.” gojo snorted.

he added a second finger, making your stomach churn and legs jolt.

“got it! a spinny chair! anything else, (y/n)-sensei?”

“some (favourite drink) would be nice. thank you, itadori.”

“yup!” he gave you a small salute, half-jogging out of the staff room before the door slid shut.

gojo withdrew his fingers from you, a long viscous and clear strand connected his two digits and your cunt.

you watched him curl his tongue around his digits, sucking it off.

“now then.”

“i’m going to ruin that pretty makeup of yours.”

the contents of gojo’s desk laid clattered all over the floor in a state of distress.

he had you bent over it, your body sprawled out against the mahogany wood.

his blindfold was partially lifted over one eye. not enough to allow his snow white locks to fall, but enough for him to absorb the way your body writhed and danced underneath him. he analysed you with a feline-like gaze, stormy blue eyes swirling with malicious intent on how to make you moan louder, throb a little harder.

one hand dug into your ass, spreading the skin out as he railed his thick cock inside you, every thrust abusing your g-spot to the point where your mind drew blanks.

you panted over him, his other hand occupied with your mouth.

oh, shit. how much he loved that pretty mouth of yours.

he forced the same two fingers inside, groaning at the way you throbbed when you lapped your tongue around his digits at an attempt to contain the wanton moans that spilled out of you.

gojo ran his hot and slick tongue against your back, trailing it from your tailbone and all the way up to your neck.

it made your blood feel like it was set ablaze. a shiver wracked your spine so great that goosebumps painted every inch of your smooth skin.

you heard him chuckle, a sound resonating so deep and dark inside his chest that it made you moan his name out in desire.

“that’s the prettiest thing i’ve ever heard.”

he devoted himself into dicking you down so you could moan his name over and over.

all whilst his precious student listened from the other side of the wall, hand clamped over his mouth to contain the small gasps and pants he was emitting.

[2jaeh]

Bibliophile | Xiaojun x Reader

Genre: fluff, smut

Word count: 2,3k

Warnings: mature themes

Author: SIN

Two literature master students decide to make their steamy romance troupe debates a reality.

——————————————————————————

Your heels clicked against the marble floors as you ran over to the university library, hoping the evening rain wouldn’t worsen when you crossed the open courtyard.

Most of the students were either heading back to their dorm rooms or messing around in the common areas, while the only thing that rang in your head was to not be late for your part-time job at the restricted section of the library.

At first you had no damn clue why they needed someone to work there, especially since some of the books were even restricted to lecturers. But thanks to your century old university and their obsession with keeping their sacred books in pristine condition, all they needed was a literature masters student to help out from time to time.

You entered the library and greeted the woman at the front desk before she buzzed you in through to the door that led upstairs to the restricted area.

You quickly jogged up the stares and swung open the door only to be greeted by the only other person working around here, Xiao Dejun.

“You’re late again” his lips curled into a smile as he pushed up his gold framed glasses and inspected a dust covered book.

“Yeah the rain was just-“

“Crazy ?” Dejun peered up and pursed his lips, knowing that every excuse you had always ended in the same word.

“Yeah crazy” you half chuckled and removed your burgundy coat, making your way over to sign in the shift card.

All you knew about Dejun was that he finished his masters and was offered a lecture position at the university but decided to take up this job instead. He was very reserved and once told you that he craved the utter peacefulness of the restricted area, where he was usually either on his own or with you.

“I’m halfway on my thesis now” you said casually as you started fixing the binding of a physics book from the 70s.

“Oh?” Dejun raised his eyebrow and pulled out a chair next to you to tend to his own book repair, “I’m sure you’re glad it’s almost over right?”

You squinted your eyes and sighed, burying your head in your hands as that familiar migraine began to set in. “I’m....stuck” you groaned and peered up at Dejun, “I decided to dissect the romance genre of literature and honestly most of it is hot garbage.”

Dejun let out a laugh and you admired how his dark eyebrows knitted together, making his face look quite animated.

“What books have you studied if you don’t mind me asking ?” Dejun asked, his curious eyes met with yours as he shifted closer in his chair.

“Everything from Shakespeare to Nicolas Sparks, I just hate them all” you pouted and slumped back in your chair, moving the half bound book aside,

“Don’t get me wrong, I chose romance because I love it you know ? I just don’t think that those ‘classics’ do it any justice.”

Dejun nodded at your words and shrugged, “I agree with you, not a fan of that forbidden romance and rich girl poor man stuff either.”

“Right ?” Your eyes lit up and Dejun grinned at your passionate attitude. He’d always found you cute. Every so often he had the chance to work with you on a shift we’re always his best days. He’d listen to you rant about your professors, the music you hated on the radio, or the fact that someone stole your favourite parking spot.

“So....” Dejun folded his arms, “how would you change it ?”

“Change it?” You quirked a brow.

“What’s your perfect romance troupe ?” Dejun smiled softly and his soft brown eyes drew you in and made you feel warm, safe.

“Well for starters I think intimacy should come first and then the characters learn how to love each other as they develop their relationship” you explained, getting up from your chair and began pacing the small room,

“I don’t mind the cliche of they grab the same book or vinyl, I just prefer that instead of 7 chapters of them thinking about that moment they just take the leap right there.”

Dejun pondered on your words for a bit and also got to his feet, leaning against the table as he watched you pace back and forth.

“Would it work for people who somewhat knew each other before hand though ? A friend ? A colleague ?” Dejun quizzed and you nodded quickly,

“Yeah if there’s no prior feelings or hookups then why not ?”

“I guess we can’t test it then since we like each other huh ?” Dejun smirked returning to his seat innocently as you stopped abruptly and quickly tried to process what he had just said.

“I....we...don’t like each other ?” You stammered while ignoring the fact that your heart was racing against your chest.

Dejun chuckled as he carefully inspected one of the pages of his book, “the funny part is that you’re practically experiencing your ideal romance troupe and contradicting yourself by not owning up to the fact that we do in fact...like each other.”

Your mind was racing on every evening that you’ve spent with Dejun up until today. First day it’s true you both did a double take on each other and you found him extremely attractive. Day seven the two of you reached for the only hard cover copy left of Pride and Prejudice and spent the whole night critiquing the book until you lost track of time. Day seventeen you were packing books on the top shelf and as you descended down the steel steps you lost your balance and fell right into his arms.

You were literally living a goddamn romance troupe without even knowing it.

“By your words y/n, we need to skip a few steps now shouldn’t we ?” Dejuns eyes were still on his book, but he knew damn well that your eyes were on him.

“You’re right Dejun” you finally said and folded your arms across your chest.

Dejun turned his head to face you and narrowed his eyes, “I’m supposed to be the one making the move ? What happened to a change of scenery ? Uh women empowerment?”

You grabbed his hand and headed to the back of the room where the roof slightly slanted and the window panels were covered with water droplets as the night sky drew in. You neatened your blue plaid skirt and leaned against the old wood of a work station desk. Dejun cocked his head as you bit down on your lip, not knowing how to proceed to the next step.

“Why here ?” Dejun raised an eyebrow, removing his glasses and tucked them in the top pocket of his white buttoned down.

“I don’t know the setting is....pretty, also when we first met you were sitting at this desk reading the last book a literature master student would be reading” you stifled a laughter.

“Hey Harry Potter is my childhood” Dejun groaned, cutely rolling his eyes, something he did quite often and you would pester him to the point of seeing that reaction.

“Dejun,” you placed your hand on his cheek and his attention was focused on you, those soft brown eyes bore into yours as he took a step closer.

You felt the butterflies in your stomach as he softly wrapped his hand around the small of your back and placed the other on the back of your head. You finally leaned in and he did the same meeting your lips, for the first time and sighed. The kiss was soft, the two you just melted in the instant connection, basking in the feeling before continuing to deepen the kiss.

You wrapped your arms around his neck and pulled him closer until your bodies were pressed against each other, fitting each other’s silhouettes perfectly. Dejun slipped his hands down to your thighs and picked you up and placed you on the desk, not breaking the kiss as he slipped in between your legs.

“I’m afraid I’m going to want more than this” you sighed into the kiss, unable to remove your hands from his toned body as you felt the closeness of him between your legs making you feel aroused.

“Come back to my place” Dejun whispered as he began attacking your neck with kisses and played with the hem of your skirt.

You can’t remember if you said yes or just nodded but you were now in Dejuns car on his way to his place. You enjoyed the passionate kiss he shared with you at the stop street and the occasional squeeze of your thigh when he would make turn into a new road.

The rain had begun pelting down and thankfully you were already pulling into his apartment lot before it became really hazy. Dejun turned to his backseat and realized he had left his umbrella back at the library and sighed,

“Running hand in hand in the pouring rain troupe ?” He held out his hand and you chuckled, “always been on my bucket list anyway.”

The two of you ran for about half a minute in the pouring rain but it was enough to completely drench you from your head down to your shoes. Dejun quickly punched in the code of his door and pulled you inside, already covering you in kisses as his blonde hair stuck to his forehead.

It was one item of clothing after another as the trail of clothes led down to his bedroom, where he had you in just your lacy nude coloured two piece set while he was slowly ridding himself of his pants.

You fell into his bed as you watched him slowly pull his leather belt from its hoops and his black slacks finally fell to the ground,

“You are the most beautiful person I’ve ever met you know that ?” Dejun groaned as his eyes scanned over your body and he hovered over you.

“I could say the same about you Xiao Dejun” you mused and pulled him in for another hot passionate kiss. His warm body settled on yours and you wrapped your legs around his waist, wanting him closer even though it wasn’t even possible at this point.

Dejun unclipped your bra and moved his lips down to your breasts, squeezing one in his hand while licking and nipping at the other. You arched your back wanting more but also not wanting to rush him.

“Really want this to last much longer but I’m at my wits end right now” you moaned and Dejun chuckled as he peppered kisses all the way back up to your mouth.

“We have tonight, tomorrow, the next day and the day after that” he smirked against your lips before tugging on your bottom lip with his teeth.

Distracted by the stinging sensation from your lip you shivered at Dejuns icy fingers that was now hooked in the waistband of your panties, slowly pulling them down.

He watched as you squirmed beneath him. Watched how your eyes closed and how you sucked in your bottom lip, awaiting his next move.

You mewled when you felt the cool air hit your arousal and Dejun rubbed slow circles on your clit before pushing two fingers inside you, making you moan his name for the first time that night.

His fingers moved slowly but roughly while his lips softly pecked your hips, abdomen and the very top of your mound.

He was so gentle with you but his movements were still dominating, the mixture was absolutely intoxicating. You pulled him up missing the taste of his lips and before pressing his mouth on yours he caressed your cheek,

“Let me know if it’s too much okay?” He whispered against your lips and you nodded not knowing what you were in for.

Dejun locked your arms above your head and used his free hand to remove his boxers before entering you, already finding a rhythm to his thrusts. You threw your head back and moaned his name yet again as he slammed in and out of you, his grunts and your whimpers filling the bedroom.

His hand stayed locked on your wrists as he used his other hand to knead your breast, giving you multiple sensations at once. You almost hated the fact that you were close to your peak and it hadn’t been more than five minutes of him inside you.

“God I really don’t wanna cum right now” you whined as he still pounded mercilessly inside you.

“Good thing I’m not gonna let you” Dejun murmured and just as you thought your orgasm had reached, he pulled out of you and rolled onto his back,

“Get on top.”

You listened to his instructions but before sitting back on his member you gave him a few pumps, finally able to see him squirm under your touch this time round. Dejun gave you a small smack on your butt, and you finally abided to his request and sat on top of him, the new position already bringing you back to where you started.

Dejun sat up to meet your thrusts as you rode him, and you found your hand tangled in his messy locks as the two of you practically screwed the hell out of each other. The kiss this time was filled with lust, filled with lip biting and exchanging of saliva as you felt your orgasm fast approaching and noticed Dejun’s pace was slowing down too,

“cum for me baby” Dejun mused as he used the last of energy to give you a few hard thrusts until you finally came undone and he followed quickly after.

It took about two minutes of trying to catch your breath before you finally rolled on the bed next to him and wiped the beads of sweat from your forehead.

“Yeah this...this was definitely missing in some of those novels” you turned to Dejun who had a smile spread across his face.

He pulled the covers over your bodies and pressed his lips to your forehead and cheek,

“Should we write our own novel then ?”

“Yeah, yeah we should” you smiled, closing your eyes feeling at peace as his warmness enveloped you.

[detectivehannibal]

Desk Dreams

__

Hannibal Lecter x Fem. Reader

Warnings: Smut...lol have fun.

A/N: Testing my smut writing skills I see...I tried to weasel Will into this, but I’d hardly consider this a Will oneshot. I struggled so hard with this smh.

Requested by: @no-homo-hank

Prompt: also.. if i may request something sm*tty. personally i think your writing is so good. soo maybe something in his office yk yk like if the reader has a *sexy* dream about him,, and she has to tell him,, idk idk and only if you’re comfortable with it ofc! thanks :)

Word Count: 1,697

“Is it so wrong to change things up a little?”

__

You couldn’t get it out of your head. The images, the sounds, the touches, the smells. You had tried to shake it off all morning. You had brewed an extra strong cup of coffee hoping to rid your conscious of the less than appropriate dream from the night before, but to no avail. You never really had dreams, and you especially didn’t have such scandalous ones. On top of that, you definitely never had sex dreams about your therapist. 

Sure, you found him attractive in more ways than just his striking intelligence. However, the thought of anything that wasn’t purely professional had never crossed your mind. You knew what Hannibal thought about dreams. He had mentioned to you before that they are often a crucial tell-tale of a person’s mental state most of the time. That was the part you couldn’t figure out.

What did having such a racy dream mean for you?

You pondered the thought on your way to your session. You desperately wished that you didn’t have to go today, but you knew you’d be questioned about it next session if you canceled. You entered his office’s waiting room, there were no other patients at that time. You weren’t surprised, considering most people tried to push for the afternoon appointments. You took your normal seat, knowing that Dr. Lecter and Will Graham would be finished shortly. Will Graham’s appointments were always before yours, and you always noted how Will always looked as if his brain had been completely picked apart when he exited.

You often wondered what sort of things they talked about.

Sure enough, the door opened a few minutes later, Hannibal seeing Will out of his office. 

“I will see you soon, Will.” Hannibal said to Will, who had pretty much already ended the conversation. 

Will spotted you waiting and actually offered a smile. He didn’t know you outside of the waiting room, but well enough to know your name and speak to you.

“Hello, [Y/N],” He greeted, leaning in slightly; “He’s acting strangely today.” He whispered.

You gave him a confused look, but returned the greeting before he dashed off and out of the building. What did he mean by “acting strangely”? There was only one way to find out. 

“[Y/N], are you ready?” Hannibal asked, inviting you into his office.

You nodded, entering swiftly. When you passed by him, a familiar scent enriched your nose. The smell of his cologne was exquisite and suddenly sparked your memory of the dream from the night before. So that was what you smelled in the dream. You had never paid attention to it before. 

Speaking of the dream, it was suddenly all you could think about. You sat in one of his chairs, immediately striking Hannibal as out of character. He decided to hold off on mentioning it yet. 

“Good morning. How are you?” He asked, sitting in the chair in front of you.

Your leg bounced anxiously as you found yourself in a trance, raking over his features. Had his hair always been so nice? Were his eyes always so enticing? You caught his gaze, waiting for you to give an answer.

“Huh? Oh! I’m doing well.” You said, beginning to feel a heat creep over your cheeks.

His hand briefly went up to his collar to readjust his tie. You basically stopped yourself from salivating. His hands were...so perfect. 

“You’re nervous.” He announced.

You denied. You denied hard. You would not let him through to you today. You’d die of embarrassment.

“Nope. Not nervous,” You said, visibly nervous; “What makes you say that?”

His expression was calculating. He was soaking you up like a sponge to sink water, taking everything in to be squeezed out again.

“For starters, you’re sitting. You usually walk around during our sessions,” He noted; “Secondly, your entire demeanor is tense.” 

Your leg stopped bouncing and you slowly stood from your chair, you began to try and walk as you normally did, but it ended up being more of a pace. 

“Is it so wrong to change things up a little?” You asked as casually as possible.

He looked so good in that light blue shirt. 

“No, but there’s always a reason for such change.” He bantered.

You shot him a look. It was hard to get anything past him. 

“I just...” You tried to come up with an excuse, but turned up short. 

He waited patiently, his gaze never leaving yours. You sighed in defeat. 

“Dreams are normal, right?” You asked, preparing to bite the bullet.

He nodded simply.

“Certainly.” 

You chewed your lip in thought, careful with how you approached this. You fiddled with the hem of your sweater.

“I had a rather interesting dream last night,” You confessed; “It wasn’t anything I had ever experienced.”

He was listening intently, not quite following what you were getting at.

“What did you dream about?” He prompted.

You felt a sudden rise in your throat. This was painful to admit.

“Well, you were in me- uh, I mean...in it.” You said, mentally cursing at yourself for your embarrassing slip up.

A wave of realization was clear on his face as he connected the dots. You wanted nothing more than to crawl in a hole and die.

“[Y/N], I can assure you that sexual fantasy dreams are quite normal.” He said in an attempt to comfort you.

You groaned miserably, burying your face in your hands. You were humiliated. You’d have to request a different therapist. Maybe even seek out a totally different counseling practice.

“Dreams often must be explored to be understood. Tell me more about the content of this dream.” He requested calmly.

Your blood went hot. What? Why did he want to know that? You looked to him, surprised to see that he was completely serious. You rubbed your palms together nervously.

“I came in for my usual session. The energy was different. You were looking at me in a way you don’t usually,” You explained; “The conversation took a turn and...we had sex.”

His expression remained unchanged, but you weren’t close enough yet to see the fire in his eyes. He stood from his seat and took slow strides over towards you. You were sure he could hear your thumping heart.

“How was I looking at you?” He questioned, his voice thick and smooth.

That’s when you saw the riled up glaze in his eyes. A sudden wave of emotion and arousal crashed over you. This was really going to happen.

“Just like you are now.” You breathed out.

Instantly, his lips were on yours. Passionate and needy, but steady and calculated too. His hands gripped your waist, pushing you towards his desk. He shimmied you onto the cool, dark wood and allowed you to remove his suit blazer. 

Your mind was racing, but your movements were faster. You untucked his dress shirt from his pants while his fingertips worked on unbuttoning your jeans. It was a hot, heavy silence as the two of you stripped down enough to get the job done. His mouth was hot on your neck once your pants were casted aside, sucking a hickey on your most sensitive spot. 

“Dr. Lecter, I...” You trailed off, your mind too clouded with pleasure to offer any kind of sentence.

This felt so wrong, but so right at the same time. You were thankful for patient-doctor confidentiality. 

“Hannibal.” He corrected, unbuckling his belt and getting his pants down to his ankles.

Woah. First name basis. That was new. Hannibal really seemed to know his way around a woman. You found that rather shocking.

“Is this your means of dream exploration?” You joked, giving a breathy laugh.

“Something like that.” He replied.

He pulled himself from his boxers, stroking a few times before gingerly pushing himself inside of you. A synchronized moan drew from the both of you as he pushed through your walls, traveling as deep as he could go. He pushed your back down onto the desk, watching you sprawl out desperately for him.

He began with slow thrusts to allow you to adjust to his length, but hit the sweetest of spots each time he went back in. He grasped one of your legs, wrapping it around his waist so he could get a better angle. He had one hand on your throat, wrapped firmly but not uncomfortably. 

“Hannibal, please. Faster.” You begged, your tone coming out as a whine.

He hummed in response, his pace beginning to pick up. Your hands gripped the edge of the desk as the sounds of skin and rattling desk objects echoed in your ears. He admired the way your eyes glassed over in pleasure, his own forehead beginning to break out into a sweat. 

“Was this how your dream played out?” He asked, the slightest bit of strain in his voice; “On my desk...in the middle of a session.”

You nodded in response, but that wasn’t enough.

“Use your words.” He ordered, slamming back into you again.

“Yes.” You groaned out.

“Good girl.” He praised, moving his pace even faster.

This wasn’t how he’d usually pleasure a woman. He preferred something a little more timed out and slow, but you needed something spontaneous and fast. He could feel it radiating off of you. Your mind bounced back and forth from the dream to this present moment. This was too good to be true.

Your legs tightened around his waist, signaling to him that you were awfully close. He himself felt a twitch, looks like you were going to both finish on time. He continued to pound into you, your moans relentlessly sounding out into the air. Your high-pitched, surprised gasp alerted your release, his own spilling out just a few moments later. 

Your moans and sounds dwindled into heavy breathing, your chests heaving to catch up. He collapsed onto your shaky frame, your hand resting in his hair. You could barely comprehend what had just happened. You suddenly had a whole new reason to come to therapy. Hannibal lifted his head, pride written all over his face.

“I think...we’ll pick this back up next week.”

[strangeradventuresofp]

symphony (arthur morgan x reader)

this story involves smut!! please do not read this if you are not over 18 years old

a/n: not entirely back to writing yet, but i did this and i sorta like it so lemme know what you think. also this is my first time ever writing smut that wasn’t for a roleplay so im super nervous about it. but anyway have a story with my favourite boy 

masterlist

It felt like your gut had been ripped open, like there were pins where your heart was before it cracked and shattered into thousands of fragments that would never be found. It was like someone had put a bullet in your skull and it was rattling around, hitting against every nerve and causing as much damage as it went along. 

Your blood turned to ice in your veins at the sight of him. Never had you seen him look so weak. So helpless. How in his voice he seemed okay despite the state of his body – at least two open wounds, his shirt stained multiple shades of red that weaved in with brown from what had already dried. Hot tears stung in your eyes when they studied him. Despite the warped vision, it was obvious to anyone that he was in pain. How his face contorted and twisted whilst Miss Grimshaw washed over his wounds to get a better look. The grunts and curses that left his dried lips were unbearable to listen to. 

Once you tore your eyes away from him, you assessed the others in the scene. Dutch stood at the foot of the table, his arms crossed over his chest and his hands balled into fists so tight that his knuckles whitened and cracked. Every now and again he mumbled words of encouragement or instructions to tell Miss Grimshaw what to do, despite her knowing much more about how to patch someone up. 

Miss Grimshaw had taken charge immediately, as soon as he had been brought into camp by the others on the job. She removed his shirt swiftly, washing his wounds with a cloth and water. Her expert hands cauterised his wounds and though she winced at every sound of discomfort, she knew that she was helping, and so she continued.

Tilly was around helping Miss Grimshaw, running to get things that she needed presently or that she would need, or that she might need just in case. She fed him alcohol for the pain and listened close when she was asked to do something to help.

You? You simply stood there, frozen. Miss Grimshaw had asked you for something, but you neither moved nor even heard her request for your brain was travelling at a speed that caused you physical pain. The noises he made left an awful taste in your mouth, knowing that you couldn’t help despite wanting to more than anything in the world. 

It was about then that Hosea took your hands in his and gently pulled you away with a “Come on, sweet girl.” And though you protested, you let him take you, because you couldn’t do anything else. You couldn’t just stand and watch him as he was an inch away from death. It hurt. Hosea took you far enough away that you couldn’t hear the sounds of pain that each felt like a bullet to the chest.

He held you to him, wrapping his arms around your shoulders.

“I’m sorry, Hosea.” Was the first thing that came out of your mouth once you had remembered how to use your voice. The man smiled a fatherly smile.

“Nothing to be sorry for. Nothing at all.” He assured, though you couldn’t seem to meet his eye. Gently, he squeezed your hand as a sign of reassurance. Though, reassurance for what, you couldn’t be entirely sure. “I know you wanted to help. It’s difficult when the people we love get hurt.”

You scoffed. “I… I don’t even know what bein’ in love feels like. But, I guess, maybe…” Trailing off, your mind began to wander just as the thoughts pulled a sigh from your lips. 

“Hosea, I don’t—”

“Do you think I don’t see the way you look at him?” Hosea asked with a raised eyebrow, clearly amused that you had tried to deny his claims. 

“Sweetheart, you look at him like you’re starving and he’s a hot meal.”

“I do?” Your voice sounded so small against the deafening silence. As much as you wanted to deny it, Hosea was right, and he knew it. It was terrifying. “I—I’ve never been in love before.” Startling thoughts began cascading down you. You and Arthur were close, real close. You told each other everything. You could be vulnerable around each other. You were there for each other. Was all of that about to be ruined because you were stupid enough to catch feelings?

“What do I do?” 

Hosea chuckled at that. “Get some rest, sweetheart. Try not worry about him, he’ll be fine. He always is.” While you appreciated his attempt of reassurance, you honestly didn’t feel much better at all. Instead, your brain was flooding with the thought of being in love with Arthur on top of the question of whether he was actually going to survive his injuries. 

You stayed just out of camp for a while longer, until you could hear the noise inside start to die down until it was obvious that everyone was asleep. You crept back in, being sure to not make too much noise, you didn’t want to wake anyone. No, not that, you didn’t want anyone to know that you were visiting him. Grabbing a chair, you pulled it up beside where Arthur’s was body was lay and took a seat. You looked over him, humming lightly, Miss Grimshaw really did a good job of patching him up. Your hands wrapped themselves around one of his, and you simply sat at his side until morning, being sure to move away at least two hours before everyone else woke up.

~~~

A few weeks later 

~~~

Chores. Although you helped out on jobs sometimes, since Arthur and Hosea taught you how to shoot properly, you enjoyed helping out around camp, too. It was the least you could do to help out Miss Grimshaw, considering she saved the man that you loved. Besides, most members of the camp were out either on jobs or shopping, or at saloon, so, you were spending your time washing clothes to help out.

Arthur, luckily, survived his injuries and although he was still recovering, he was back up and out on jobs again. Dutch did make sure not to put him on any dangerous (by his standard) jobs, despite Arthur protesting because he’s fine, it was just a couple of scratches and—Goddamn it, Dutch I don’t need supervision, I’m alright and—

“Careful you don’t rub a hole in that shirt.” A deep chuckle came from beside you. Your head snapped up immediately at the sound.

“Arthur!” You only then noticed how hard you had been squeezing the shirt in your hands and how hard you were scrubbing it against the washboard. Loosening your grip, you smiled sheepishly. “Sorry, I—Wait a minute, what the hell are you doing up and around? Dutch told you that you rest today.” A laugh left Arthur’s lips as he held his hands up in surrender. “You should be resting.” With that, you stood, ushering him back to his tent where he could lay down. He took a seat on his bed, looking up at her with a strange expression. Was he… Nervous?

He reached out for your hand, gently tugging you over to take a seat beside him. Instead of letting go of your hand, he held it, his gaze fixed on it. He delicately traced over the veins that peeked through your skin, too delicate, like if he held you any firmer that you would shatter before him. His eyebrows drew together, and you hummed slightly, searching his eyes.

“Arthur? Y’alright?” You asked softly, your eyes furrowing in concern. 

“I’m alright, darlin’, I just…” He took a deep breath. “Going through all that and, not knowing whether I was gonna die, it, uh, it made me realise a couple things. Shit, uh…” 

“It’s okay. Take your time.” You assured, a smile crossing your face. Arthur looked up at you, a troubled look in his eyes that gave you an awful feeling in your stomach. You breathed out through parted lips, ready to take in the bad news that he was about to tell you. His eyes flickered slightly, quickly looking down your lips before he swallowed thickly, looking back up at your eyes.

“It made me realise that, I’m terrified of losing you. And—And I think that I… Shit. I’m in love with you.” Arthur’s face burnt up entirely as he confessed, flushing red from head to toe. When you didn’t respond, only blinking blankly at him, he pulled his hands away from yours, looking away as he rubbed the nape of his neck anxiously. Your hand reached out to cup his cheek, tilting his face back to you where you planted a soft kiss to the corner of his mouth. You could feel how his breath was pulled from his lungs as you did so and his eyes lit up, though his face still looked worried.

“I love you, Arthur Morgan. More than anything in the world.” And with that, his lips captured yours in such a way that had your own breath hitching at the sensation. Your lips danced against each other’s rhythmically, and your chests moved up and down in sync. 

You had always loved Arthur. From the moment that he had saved your life in the woods when you first met. This big, scary outlaw meant everything to you. This gang was the closest thing you had to family. No, it was your family. Things had always been different with Arthur, though. Things you had never given a second thought about until now. Longing glances from across camp, touches that were a little too long to simply be considered friendly. Putting his arm around you at the campfire so that you wouldn’t be cold, bringing each other stew so that the other wouldn’t starve. The way he spoke to you; how his voice changed to be much softer when he addressed you. The urgency in his voice when he thought that you were in danger. The way that he always worried about you, just how you worried about him. The way that he looked at you, just how you looked at him.

It all made sense now.

The kiss was incapsulating. In this moment where nothing else mattered, merely you and him. You each opened your mouths, delving your tongues in to dance with the other as your tastes swirled together. He tasted like honey and cigarette smoke, you tasted like wild berries and rum. His hand hovered over the curve of your waist for a few seconds, before he hesitantly placed it down, pulling you close to his chest. Your arms snaked up his chest and wound around his neck. Arthur hooked an arm around your waist, gently lifting and shifting you over to sit in his lap.

You broke the kiss, breathing heavier than usual as you looked at him. A sweet shade of rose covered the cheeks that you gently pecked before stroking with your thumbs whilst you cupped his face. 

“We don’t have to go any farther.” Arthur declared; his voice low despite there being no one around. You breathed for a moment, scared of all the new feelings that erupted throughout your body. Though, the fireworks in your stomach couldn’t be denied. So, you smiled.

“You—Your wounds…” You mentioned, and he chuckled softly.

“Darlin’, I’m fine. But we can stop if you ain’t comfortable.”

“I don’t want to stop.” 

A smile spread over Arthur’s lips at your words and he hummed in response. “Tell me if you wanna stop, okay?” He asked, cupping your cheek, to which you nodded before leaning in to kiss his lips once again. You couldn’t get enough of him. He tasted so good. Whilst your lips worked against his, his practised hands ran over your body and his fingers began to work at the buttons on your shirt, threading them back through the hole before pushing it off of your shoulders. His hands moved up to knead softly at your breasts, rolling your nipples between his calloused fingers which earned a mewl from your throat. 

He pulled away from your lips, jaw falling slack when his eyes fell over your now bare top half. He hummed as his excitement grew, moving your head to the side with his thumb before burying his face in your neck which he peppered with open mouthed kisses and gentle nips that began to purple the flushed skin, branding you to him. With your noises of approval and your fingers unthreading the buttons of his blue shirt egging him on, he began to suck the skin at your clavicle to which a breathy moan was pulled from your throat. 

Shrugging his shirt from his shoulders, you moved your legs on either side of his hips, straddling him. Your fingers gently caressed each of his scars that you felt. He was beautiful. As he continued to leave his mark on you, your hands reached up to tangle in his locks, tugging ever so slightly, but a growl left him, nevertheless.

“Do it again.” Arthur pleaded, his lips brushing against your skin to cause goose bumps. A low groan fell out of his kiss swollen lips when you repeated the action. His large hands cupped your ass, pulling you closer against him, his arousal rubbing against you through layers of fabric that separated you from feeling all of him. You needed to feel all of him. You moaned at the contact, fumbling messily with his jeans while you kissed him, but he pulled away. 

He picked you up, laying you down before he shed himself of the remainder of his clothing. While his back was turned, you did the same. When Arthur turned around, he bit his lip at the sight of you, flushed, sprawled out for him on his bed. He licked his lips hungrily, cock twitching before he lay above you, pressing a bruising kiss to your lips which you held while his hand dug lower. His fingers spread you open, teasing by gently brushing against your clit. He smirked at your wetness.

“Arthur—” You whined. “Please.” He took your endorsement, groaning in delight at the sounds you made when he quickened his pace, curling his fingers inside you. The hot coil began to grow in your stomach, and he watched as you writhed beneath him, moaning deliciously at how good he was making you feel. His cock was painfully hard and ached for release, but he wouldn’t stop until he had brought you over the edge at least once before he fucked you. 

“This for me?” Your hips bucked up in a silent plea for more friction and he chuckled slightly into your mouth before pushing a digit inside you. With a sharp inhale beforehand, you moaned in approval, causing him to add a second finger, pumping in and out of you at a slow pace. 

“So good for me, darlin’.” Arthur’s voice was husky when he spoke, his words wrapped in lust and desire, eyes dark with adoration. His free hand reached up to toy with your nipples, pinching gently, teasingly to bring you closer to your release. 

It wasn’t until your hips bucked uncontrollably and a strangled cry left your plump lips that Arthur pulled his fingers out of you, the hot coil snapping in such a wonderful way that left you aching for more. His mouth opened and closed around his fingers, coated with your juices. When the taste hit his mouth, a low groan rumbled in his chest, and the mushroom head of his member leaked with arousal. 

Arthur didn’t touch himself once until he had brought you over the edge one more time with his tongue alone, and when that hot coil broke in your stomach once again, he lapped up the remainder of your juices, making sure to not waste a single drop by licking along the insides of your thighs for any excess. His cock throbbed painfully from the influx of lust, his hand stroking himself up and down a couple of times before he pushed himself into you. The sound you made from him entering you alone nearly made Arthur cum there and then, but he was determined to make you feel good. After pushing in about halfway, he pulled back out completely, groaning at the sight of your slick on his cock. You whined at the lack of contact, reaching to touch him but he swatted your hand away.

“I don’t think so.” He said with a chuckle before pushing into you entirely. You cried out, digging your nails into his shoulders, loving how he stretched you. “Mm—” Arthur’s hips thrusted against yours once as he moaned at how you clenched around him. “Such a good girl for me.” He set a fast pace, each thrust increasing in power and might, and soon enough an animalistic desire consumed him, his hips clashing against yours. Your names left each other’s lips among curses and beautiful sounds of pure pleasure. Series’ of moans spilled out from your reddened lips.

Arthur kissed you, hard. You could feel the swelling of your lips. The bristles of his unkempt stubble tickled your skin. When your tongues met, you groaned at the taste, your taste. Your nails sunk further into his skin and he groaned at the sensation, his spare hand reached down to focus your sensitive bundle of nerves with the pad of his thumb. His cock throbbed against your walls as the familiar feeling began to grow in your stomach once again. He pounded into you with a near primal hunger, your plea for him and your beautiful sounds being the only thing to fill his ears. Arthur made his own share of delicious noises, both of your voices ruined with pleasure though it sounded like the most stunning symphony.

You felt your third climax nearing, the white-hot coil repeating but so much stronger than before. With your legs wrapped around his waist and his hands on you, he made you feel wanted. He made you feel loved. It was nearing closer, and closer and you covered your face to which Arthur removed your hands from your face, pinning them above your head with one hand while the other returned to its spot at your clit.

“Nuh-uh, darlin’. Hafta see you.”

Soon enough, your release washed over you like a wave of pleasure. A ravishing sound forced itself from you, your legs trembled, your body shaking violently from the pleasure. Arthur felt your climax all over him, his body entirely racked with pleasure. As you clenched around him, he pushed in once more and pulled out, releasing with a husky shout that you would dream of for weeks on end. His juices lay atop the bedsheets and he sighed happily, pulling you in for a soft, loving kiss.

Arthur reached over into his pile of clothes to find a dark piece of cloth, his bandana. He soaked in some water from a bucket outside his tent and gently dragged it over you skin, revelling in how incessantly beautiful you were. At first, when he reached your folds, you whined from the overstimulation, but soon relaxed at the feeling.

Once you were cleaned up, he lay beside you, cradling you in his strong arms. You pecked his lips before resting your head against his chest, listening to his heartbeat. Your eyes fluttered closed and Arthur hummed contently. “I love you, darlin’.”

lmk if you want to be added to any of my taglists!!<3

“I love you too, Arthur.”

[elsewhereuniversity]

The fae didn’t really understand time as mortals did. The thing that lived under the glade certainly didn’t. It was vaguely aware that sometimes humans came and sometimes they left, and when they came that was a Fresh Man, and when they left that was a Graduation. It was less clear on the finer details, but what it boiled down to was an ever changing variety of prey to sniff out and play with. That was all most humans were to it; something to hunt for food or entertainment, whichever struck its fancy.

Most of the creatures it was acquainted with, then, would see it preparing for the party and assume it was hungry (or bored, as the case may be). They would be wrong. True, it wouldn’t turn down a snack, if it was convenient, but it had other plans for the night as well. Rosalind’s graduation party was supposed to be a small, intimate get-together for those who knew Rosalind best. It had decided that after three and a half years of surveillance, it was one of those who knew Rosalind best, and invitation or not, it deserved to be there.

So here it was, disguised as a handsome youth with dark hair and glittering brown eyes, walking towards the clearing in the forest as if it possessed one of the few invitations Rosalind had seen fit to send out. Someone stopped it just as the lights came into view.

“Sorry, I need to see your invitation-” the girl began, hand already on a poker thrust through a belt. The creature turned its gaze to her, giving its best imitation of a friendly smile. It probably looked grotesque, but the glamor did its work, and the girl withdrew her hand, looking slightly dazed. “Oh- never mind…” she trailed off, as if expecting a name. It would need one of those, it supposed.

“Windcutter,” it said, gracing the girl with another smile. She blushed, waving it through. It was that easy. It was always that easy. It frowned for a second. Was something strange? It dismissed that thought nearly immediately. It was just imagining things, distracting itself from the reason it was here.

The newly christened Windcutter swept its gaze around the party. There were little lights in glass bubbles- faerie lights, he remembered dimly from some conversation. The mood lighting was entirely lost on something with perfect night vision, but it highlighted Rosalind’s face as she hopped down from a tree, brushing off her clothes. Unconsciously, Windcutter’s hand went to its shoulder as phantom pain tingled down the equivalent of its arm.

It was supposed to be easy. The mortals’ minds did most of the work for it; once they hit the glamor, they would fabricate details to cover up any of the little holes. The trick, it had learned, was to add some mild imperfections- these days, the students were wary of anyone too pretty. It had worked for- well, for however long it had been before Rosalind came along.

She was Gar then, one of the Fresh Men, and her roommate had been Koi. Oddly, it barely remembered what Koi smelled like, just that when it saw her at a party, it had deigned it the superior of the two. It had been simple to flirt with her, throw up enough charm that anything it said would attract it, that no warning bells had gone off.

And when Gar had left the party, gone into the back alley, and found it with what remained of Koi, it had been child’s play to send a wave of glamor at her so strong that it wouldn’t have been surprised if Gar had let it consume her as well. It was, understandably, a little surprised when Gar pulled a solid-iron knife and stabbed it. The surprise was nothing compared with the pain, though, and it had… well. It was embarrassing, but it had run, crawling under the glade to metaphorically lick its wounds. It had been mildly perturbed to find that even after it healed, any form it took had a little silver line of scar on the shoulder.

That was how the story ended, somehow. Gar had turned to the knights, and then turned herself to a knight. Somewhere along the way she became Rosalind, and all along the way the creature watched the mortal being that had wounded it for the only time in its long, long life. Its feelings were somewhere between fear and fascination- it had never bothered to follow up on any mortal before, but it had watched as Rosalind declared her major (in “biology”, but everyone knew she was Forbidden Major), had chartered a truce between some of the forbidden majors and the courts, had disappeared for three weeks and reappeared looking haggard but none the worse for wear. This was its last chance to see her up close, so for tonight, it was not hunting. It was… mingling.

It approached one of the party guests milling around. The boy smiled at it as it lightly prodded its influence to surround him.

“Hey,” he said. “It’s…”

“Windcutter,” Windcutter supplied.

“Right, Windcutter, from…”

“School." 

"Windcutter from school,” he said, blinking and nodding. “I remember, yeah. How are you?”

This close, Windcutter could see the freckles on his face, smell the sweat on him, and it had to remind itself that it was there to see Rosalind, not to hunt. The boy was still smiling, it realized, waiting for it to answer as it stared hungrily at him.

“I am well,” it said, a truthful answer. “And you?”

“Looking forward to the rest of the night,” he said, leaning conspiratorially towards Windcutter. “I think you’ll really enjoy it.”

“Bond,” said a clear voice that Windcutter had listened to for three years, “are you monopolizing…”

“Windcutter,” Windcutter said again, turning the full force of its smile to Rosalind. Once again, it had the nagging feeling that something was off, and it had to resist the urge to scratch its shoulder.

“Are you monopolizing Windcutter?” Rosalind finished.

“Not if you want to talk to them,” Bond said. He flashed another charming smile at Windcutter, who made a mental note to see if he could be lured into the woods. “I’ll just go take care of other business, shall I?”

“Sure,” Rosalind said, rolling her eyes. “And make sure that the guards are on alert!” she yelled after his retreating form.

“Guards?” Windcutter said, tilting its head coquettishly to one side. It was just as well that it had glamor to cover for it- it could never remember how far humans were supposed to be able to do that. “Is something the matter?”

“Well, friend,” Rosalind said, then squinted quizzically at it. “Did I never tell you about this?”

“I believe not.”

“Huh.” She looked down. “Well, my friend, this may sound crazy, but I believe that something has been watching me for the past few years.”

“Watching you?” It could have laughed.

“It sounds farfetched, yes, but… I can feel its eyes on me, sometimes. I think I know what it is, too.”

“Do tell,” it purred.

“Do you remember my roommate?”

“Koi, wasn’t it?”

“Yeah.” Rosalind looked away. “Koi. Well, something took her freshman year.”

“How terrible.” It couldn’t decide if it was relieved or disappointed; relieved it was in no danger, disappointed that Rosalind was so far below its estimation.

“I found her,” Rosalind said. “And that thing standing over her. It tried to make me… I don’t really know. Forget, or stop caring, but I was so angry that it just washed over me, and I stabbed it, and it ran.”

“How brave of you.” The creature shifted in place slightly. Something was definitely strange here. It felt… it didn’t know. Something.

“I didn’t really have much choice,” Rosalind said with a laugh. She drew a sword, idly flipping it in her hand. “It was instinct. I think if it was anything else, I wouldn’t be here today. Whatever it did- did you know, somehow it had managed to make her take off her iron and salt?”

The creature knew, of course it did, it-

Wait.

Rosalind was no fool. She couldn’t be, in order to have lived this long as a knight or a Forbidden Major. Protection was basic enough that even the newest and most naive knew to have it, to demand to see it.

And it had gotten this far without any protection at all. No lines of salt, no running water, nothing. The fact they hadn’t touched it with iron or salt could be put down to its power, but not the basic, rudimentary safety procedures for an outdoor party.

Alarm bells started ringing in Windcutter’s head. Who held a party outside, in the woods, in the dark?

“We were close, did you know that?” Rosalind continued. She still wasn’t looking at it. “She even told me her true name. Trusting to a fault." 

"I… should go,” Windcutter said. It had ignored its instincts for too long. Something was wrong.

“It was Rosalind,” Rosalind said. “I never forgot.” And then, finally, she met its eyes.

Windcutter jerked back, a hiss of revulsion bubbling from its throat. It was not Rosalind’s eyes in her face: they glittered as if cut from gems, and, worse, it knew somehow that she could see it, really, see it. It felt suddenly like a butterfly pinned to paper, trying to squirm away from that horrible perception. It turned, still hissing, to see Bond returning, armed with a spear. He wasn’t smiling anymore, and now that it was looking, it realized that his eyes glittered similarly. All of the partygoers eyes did, they- they could all see it- 

“A little deal with the Spring Queen,” Rosalind said conversationally behind it. “Three weeks of my time to serve her, and for every day, an hour of Sight and a clear mind for someone at my little soiree.”

It bolted then, half-mad with the eyes of the party boring into it. It sprinted into the woods, then screamed as it hit the salt line, scrambling back on burning feet. Of course there was a salt line now. They had lured it in.

“Tell me,” Rosalind said as it whirled. She was on guard now, sword out and willing. “Why did you watch me?”

“Never been hurt before,” it said, the truth being dragged out almost against its will. This wasn’t supposed to happen. It was supposed to be above its prey.

“Really.”

“You’re leaving soon,” it said. Offering a deal was something it hadn’t done before, but it needed a way out, and Rosalind’s speech had given it an idea. “Let me out and I can promise you you’ll forget what happened to her. You can let go of the anger.”

“Who told you I was leaving?” Rosalind smiled, all teeth and no friendliness. “My classes are over, but I’m staying. Someone has to make sure beasts like you don’t hunt for too long.”

The creature hadn’t ever really had to fight; nobody had armed themselves against it, after all. Its claws slid out almost involuntarily as the fear and rage flowed through it, rendering it incapable of human speech. It hissed again defiantly.

“That’s right,” Rosalind said, her voice almost hypnotically soothing. “It’s you or me. One of us leaves tonight, the other one stays here forever.” Without moving her eyes from the creature, she jerked her head over her shoulder. “The salt line has a break in it behind me. Get through me, and you can leave.”

Frightened, cornered, the creature growled deep in its throat and unthinkingly sprang.

-bean

[ringmyheart]

Dating Johan headcanons? Your Vinjin one was literal ✨gold✨ and yk so now i'm super curious about how you'd think dating Johan would be like.

Thank you!! 😭 I hope I did this well <33 also a warning, skip to where I wrote [HERE] if you’re uncomfortable w reading anything ab religion. Also I didn’t mean to offend any religion I am religious myself and didn’t specify any to avoid saying something incorrectly !

If you’re religious, he’s very VERY wary and cautious. Not of you but of the people you’re with, and it worries him a LOT

If u tell him ur hanging out with church friends he’s either insisting he comes too or asking a suspicious amount of questions of ur whereabouts and watching u from afar. He’ll probably step in on accident cuz he saw them like reach for ur shoulder or smmn and intervene cuz he thought like u were ab to get kidnapped but they were just gonna bring ur awareness to the food store around u, he’d be so on edge

He doesn’t like entering churches but if u go and u won’t negotiate on wether u can or can’t go, he’ll risk it all and come too

He’ll rough up the preacher after the service tho like “what’s your thing ???? Like what do you do.” And ask them questions completely unrelated and honestly kind of confusing to intimidate them

Like, “oh so this is all u do? U just preach?”

“Uh, yeah I love my job and am devoted. :) 👍”

“u have no other job? Nothing?”

“No...”

“R u married?”

“Yep!”

“Yeah, that’s what I thought.”

“What??”

And he meant like yeah good keep ur eyes off of u his s/o or SMM but it came out off putting and frankly indiscernible 😭

While in the service he might even start to shake cuz he’s so worried if he sees AC or hears it running he’ll grab ur hand and book it cuz he thinks ur being poisoned 😭

[HERE]

Likes to share things with you, like clothes and all. U know that black jacket he always wears it’s also ALWAYS on u too

Half of it is cuz he’s stingy w money naturally so it’s like less money spent if u guys r sharing ur food and clothes and all

So ur always wearing his stuff but in return he’s always wearing urs and like even shoes. If ur taller than him and have clothes that were his size he has ur old wardrobe in his closet now as hand me downs

HE PROBABLY wraps ur shirt around his wrist as a good luck charm before fights. Before he gets into a showdown he’ll wrap it around like his arm and kiss it and say ur name or whatever and he swears if he does this tradition he cannot lose he won’t let himself

Because u don’t spend much money, u have wired earphones (nothing wrong w that ofc) HOWEVER if ur listening to music together and he runs into someone he has beef with he’ll start swinging and ur just there like 🧍🏽‍♀️ cuz the earphones r still connected and he’s fighting to the death w like sweet but psycho playing in the background

He loves physical activities to do together. If ur not active u probably will be now forcefully bc he’ll be like please and u can’t say no so now ur hiking every day

Forgets to wait up for u bc he gets rlly ahead of himself the amount of times u get lost on the trail is unbelievable and he eventually establishes the “if u lose me, HUG A TREE AND I WILL FIND YOU” rule w u and now three times a week ur hugging a tree and waiting for him to come pick u up in the middle of the woods

He’ll apologize and tries to teach u the layout but u don’t memorize it ever

Also loves biking and gets u matching bikes, likes walking the dogs w u, going on runs etc. if u cannot run he grabs ur hand and is all its okay u got this :)) like thanks for the sentiment but it doesn't help💀

DO NOT DO HOBBIES W THIS MF!!!!!!!!! If u like to dance and tell him he’ll do it with you and within two days he leagues better than you it would suck

He is so good at picking things up if u play just dance for fun he will kick ur ass and ur like bro I thought we were just playing having fun wtf 😕 and he genuinely wasn’t even trying

So if ur competitive don’t put him on the hobbies ur into cuz he will start it a beginner and be better than u within three days

He’ll feel so bad tho if he finds out u don’t like it. Like when u drew stuff he’d sit by u and draw too and when u saw he was advancing to surpass u u stopped. He thought u just grew out of it but finds u in like a closet drawing to hide from him

But he loves doing stuff ur interested in w u even if it’s something he was never into. If u like it he likes it by association

The type of boyfriend to buy you ten fruits if you say you like one.

In passing you mention liking watermelon the next day you come home there are ten on your counter and he’s like hey :DD!

Gets you a matching dog god jacket like him so u two and ur dogs r matching always

He doesn’t care if you’re wrong, he will die defending you!!! U r always in the right what do u mean the total cost is 10.00$?? What do u mean it says 10$ on the register?? They said it was 8$ u heard them

He’s pretty reserved when it comes to personal stuff and just everything in general. U will be three years into the relationship and realize u don’t know what his last name is??!!!

He’s a “I didn’t see why it was so important” mf... if u ask ab his past or occupation he’ll tell you but in a way that underplays it extremely. Because he isn’t that ready to be vulnerable and open up as well as thinking u might not care or you’ll leave him

He’s a pretty jump-y person because he had to be alert and on his toes most of the time. If you surprise him by accident by being too quiet then appearing right by him he’ll jump three feet up like a cat or sock you in the face then apologize profusely and tear up feeling horrible

He’s pretty perceptive but when caught off gaurd he gets very nervous, can’t help it

While watching tv shows or bingeing a series he will narrate everytning to u. Because he really enjoys the show and wants to make sure u understand in the fullest too and enjoy it. If he didn’t understand sometning in the beginning but then understands you HAVE to know too

“Oh my god he just shot him....”

“The dog RUNS AWAY!?”

“She said she loves him oh my gosh...”

“They’re kissing?”

Like yes Johan.... we know.... if you tell him he’ll stop but it’s like programmed in his DNA to not shut up while watching tv he can’t help it

He’ll also pause the show to turn to u and go “I KNOW HIM!!”

And ur like “rlly?? OMGG”

And he’ll go “YEAH he’s also in that other show remember :O” and u realize he does not know him recognizes him

😑😔 .

He’s not that updated on internet and how humor has progressed over the past few years so if u send him any meme over 2015 he will be so confused

Send this and he’ll text back “😅 why did you send me this?”

“Is that sonic?”

“Are these your texts with someone?”

Otherwise he’s a pretty normal texted. He uses punctuation sometimes which will throw u off gaurd cuz it will be like “I love you.” And it’s like sweet but why did he add the period?? But he doesn’t always so it’s regular

If playing sports or doing something competitive he threatens everyone in the beginning to let you win and always lets u get the score/goal/net, whatever. He pulls everyone into him prengame by their collar and is like “listen ur letting them win got that. If I see u take that ball from them....”

He’s a helicopter boyfriend he is always seeing what ur doing what ur up to how u are, etc. protective to a fault basically

Holds u back when crossing the street as if ur seven years old

I have more I could say, but I’ll inevitable write another johan relationship hcs some day again so I’ll save it for then 😅 I hope this was what I wanted! Thank you for requesting ❤️❤️