#catch me howling that every time I see a dark cloud now

[rustic-space-fiddle]

stOOOoooOOOooOOOOORM sTOOOoooOOO-OOOOOOOOOORM 🌊

[sleepinthrumyalarms]

— your teeth don't scare me

pairing: wednesday addams x fem!oni!reader

warnings: descriptions of gore and violence

summary: the first time wednesday ever witnesses the true form of an oni demon, it doesn't drive her away

word count: 1.8k

"Have you seen (Y/n)?" Wednesday asked as she came up to her roommate where the blonde sat at the table in the dining hall, busy with a plate of a bloody steak, and the sudden appearance of her friend almost made her choke on the chunk of food in her mouth.

"Shit- I haven't. She must've left before dinner," she chewed and proceeded to swallow quickly, now obviously worried, "Why? Is something wrong?"

“Where does she usually go? Does she have a cage, like the werewolves do?”

“She doesn’t,” Yoko answered from the blonde’s side between small sips of bottled blood, “Weems lets (Y/n) run wild in the woods when she turns. Apparently a cage isn’t enough to hold an oni demon.”

Wednesday seemed lost in thought for a bit, then nodded and turned back to Enid.

"I'll be out for a walk. Cover for me if the need arises. Good night."

"Cover for you how? Where are you even going? Wednesday!"

The words fell on deaf ears as Wednesday quickly left the cafeteria, down the hall and to the front entrance of the academy, her steps hurried as she set out into the woods.

As the ravenette walked, she looked up at the sky where the Full Blood Moon was slowly rising from between the dark clouds, as if taunting her – you won’t make it in time, you’re too late.

Like hell she was.

When the trees around the girl became thicker and her vision was obscured by the leaves, her steps momentarily became slow and cautious, careful not to alert someone hostile with her movements. Going into the woods at night was itself a rather bad idea, especially with a monster on the loose, but for Wednesday it was a mere walk in the park, and a rather enjoyable one. There were no sounds except for the wilderness, and the chirping crickets paired with the distant howling of Nevermore's werewolves made for a lovely ambience.

But the ravenette didn’t venture into the small forest for her enjoyment. There was aim in her step, and in her hand she held a golden accessory that she knew belonged to a certain oni girl who needed it during every Full Blood Moon. Wednesday wasn't sure what exactly its purpose was, but she didn't think much about it - she had to bring it to (Y/n), lest something horrible happened.

The girl looked around, catching sight of deep claw marks and fallen trees around her, and she knew she was close. Leaves crunched under her boots as Wednesday stepped closer to a clearing, and through the thick trunks she could make out a dark hunched silhouette. The ravenette slowed down, carefully squeezing through the bushes, and held her breath at the scene in front of her.

The huge creature was sitting on the forest floor, tusked maw completely buried in a body of an animal, and upon closer look Wednesday could make out a young deer, a chunk of its neck bitten off. The oni's claws were sunk into the prey, and she mauled at the raw flesh with loud munching noises as if she hadn't eaten in months, blood and intestines getting all over her torn hakama pants and face. Advancing forward, Wednesday could see huge horns adorning the top of the demon's shaggy head, something akin to scales covering the tips in splashes of dark - red color, and the same rough scales grew on her feet and hands, clashing against the greyish skin of the oni.

Wednesday heard a branch snap under her boot suddenly, and (Y/n) turned her head sharply to look at the source of the sound. When the (e/c) cat - like eyes flicked to the smaller girl's body, the demon furrowed her eyebrows, and a low intimidating growl came from somewhere deep in her throat.

"(Y/n)," Wednesday began, but didn't risk to take another step closer, "It's me. I brought your pendant." She held the dragon charm up by the lace to show it to the monstrous girl, and the ruby eyes of the golden ornament shined in the moonlight.

The oni let go of the deer, the carcass hitting the dirt with a disgusting wet squelch, and rose to her full height, the ground shaking under her clawed feet. She slowly walked over to the ravenette, towering over her much smaller frame, and Wednesday's head could barely reach the demon's navel. The creature got on all fours to get face to face with the girl in front of her, clawed hands furrowing the soil, before her huge maw fell open with a deafening roar.

Wednesday didn't budge, staring at the demon with an unbothered expression, even though the rush of powerful air worried her hair and clothes. Then (Y/n) closed her mouth and huffed, steam coming out of her nostrils.

"Was that a 'thank you'?" Wednesday asked, clearly not in the mood for the oni's attitude. A spark of recognition glistened in the demon's eyes at the tone, but her heavy jaw snapped in front of Wednesday's face menacingly.

"None of that. I'm sorry I interrupted your dinner time, but you need this," the ravenette berated the creature as if she was scolding a guilty dog, and not a seven feet tall demonic abomination, "Come on. I'll put it on for you."

The oni thought for a moment, shoulders rising and falling with deep breaths, before she complied, sitting in front of the ravenette and crossing her legs. She huffed again, a grumpy display of reluctant obedience, and watched as the small girl carefully got on her tip — toes to swing the lace around her massive neck. Wednesday fixed the pendant on the demon's chest, then, satisfied with the way it glinted in the darkness, looked up at (Y/n), meeting her terrifying (e/c) eyes. The body of the oni was incredibly warm, and being so close to her was like sitting next to a radiator on a cold winter morning, the feeling rather pleasant and tingly. Wednesday's gaze slid down to the bloodied mouth of the creature, and she sighed.

"Such a messy eater," rummaging around in the pocket of her hoodie, she produced a black handkerchief, and carefully grabbed the demon by the chin to wipe at her lips and protruding tusks, "Don't you know blood is hard to wash off?"

(Y/n) grunted in reply, letting the ravenette clean her up, and when Wednesday was finished, the oni nuzzled her snout against the girl's smaller pale face with surprising gentleness, but the force was still enough for Wednesday to almost loose her footing.

"Well now you're just sucking up to me."

The demon snorted resentfully, baring her tusks, and Wednesday rolled her eyes, raising her hand to caress the big creature under her chin, scratching softly.

"Fine. Don't sulk."

A deep purr resonated through the oni's chest and she closed her eyes, undoubtedly enjoying the affection. What a strange scene it was - a much smaller human girl turning a huge oni demon into complete putty in her hands.

"Are you coming back soon?" Wednesday inquired, resting her palm on the demon's cheek, and (Y/n) opened her eyes, grumbling in disagreement and looking up at the night sky. The ravenette followed her gaze, where the Blood Moon was shining at its peak.

"I could stay with you."

The oni growled in response, shaking her head from side to side wildly, her disheveled (h/c) hair swishing with the movement like a lion's mane.

"I'm not helpless, (Y/n). I'm perfectly capable of taking care of myself."

(Y/n) sighed at the ravenette's stubbornness. Of course, there was no way to ever convince her otherwise. But still, the demon girl didn't want to run any risks - she knew she could protect Wednesday if the circumstances would force her to do so, but she'd prefer her as far from danger as possible, if she could help it.

The demon butted her head against the girl's chest, nudging her forward to where she came from. A whine escaped her lips when Wednesday held her ground again, sitting down in the demon's lap instead and reaching for her big rough hand with both of her smaller palms, clasping them around the limb gently.

"I... I don't want to leave you." She mumbled, tracing her lithe fingers over the scaled skin.

God, how could (Y/n) deny her? She was weak for the gloomy girl, and now the small moment of vulnerability almost made her melt. The calming charm on her neck was definitely working its wonders — the demon relented, hanging her head and breaking eye contact with a sigh of defeat, broad shoulders sagging.

(Y/n) wished she could tell the girl she just wanted her to be safe.

A gust of cold wind blew through the clearing, and Wednesday couldn't suppress a small shiver. She was definitely underdressed, too hurried to get to (Y/n) to care about what she wore, the hoodie she put on over her striped sweatshirt not enough to protect her from the breeze.

Noticing her discomfort, the oni held the girl's body closer to herself, wrapping her arms around her, crossed legs tightening, and her big warm frame made a shelter for the ravenette, shielding her from the nipping weather. Wednesday pressed her head against the demon's chest, the calming rumbles and her beating heart fusing into a soothing lullaby.

(Y/n)’s slitted eyes scanned the clearing for intruders, never letting her guard down as she held the small girl in her arms like one would hold their most treasured possession, afraid to ever let go.

When Wednesday opened her eyes, she was greeted by the still dark sky. There was barely any light coming from between the clouds, but she was sure it wasn’t nighttime anymore – the color was brighter than before, and the chirping of crickets was replaced by the singing of early morning birds.

Slowly shifting on what she thought was the forest floor, the ravenette felt her soft – too soft to be the floor – bedding move under her body. Carefully propping herself up on her elbows, Wednesday realised she was lying on top of (Y/n), the demon’s form back to her normal size, and she was snoozing away, tusked mouth slightly open as she breathed calmly. One of her arms was draped over Wednesday’s waist protectively, and her golden dragon pendant adorned her half – naked being in a beautiful morning glow – wait, half – naked?

Wednesday averted her eyes at the realisation, color dusting her cheeks slightly. The demon’s haori was hanging from the ravenette’s shoulders, no doubt serving as a blanket during the cold night, and the only article of clothing the oni wore were her half – torn pants. Laying her head back against (Y/n)’s chest, Wednesday closed her eyes, the slow rise and fall of the taller girl’s diaphragm lulling her back to sleep.

They could afford some more rest.

[edosianorchids901]

Shatter

@flashfictionfridayofficial prompt - "you never cared"

Cw: anger, sensory overload, alcohol

Rome, 41 AD

Crowley had, somewhat naively, hoped that things were looking up. He’d always enjoyed spending time with Aziraphale, after all. An evening of oysters and alcohol sounded like just the thing to fix whatever was wrong with him.

Only, it hadn’t fixed it. Sure, for about five minutes he was closer to happy as they talked and drank together. But then the storm clouds rolled back in, and the bristling tension inside him had only gotten worse.

He tried taking deep breaths. He tried getting even more drunk. He tried telling himself that he was being ridiculous, and should just relax and enjoy having someone who would put up with him when he was this irritable.

It didn’t work. Instead of getting less irritable, he was getting more. A lot more. More to the point where he wasn’t sure he could keep it in anymore.

And Aziraphale. Kept. Talking.

Normally, that was fine. He liked listening to Aziraphale talking. Enthusiasm was great, and no one did enthusiasm like Aziraphale. Normally, it made him feel less alone.

Today, Crowley wanted Aziraphale, the other diners, and the whole of Earth to shut the fuck up and let him have two seconds of fucking peace.

A steady march of profanity had started up in his head a while ago. He couldn’t manage to switch it off. It didn’t help with the overload, except that it did in some way. Like it was releasing a little bit of the pressure.

But not enough. The pressure was still building, an explosion of panicked rage burning in his chest. Every single noise stoked the flames higher, pushed him further towards a supernova.

The clamor of the other diners rose, laughter from another group.

Crowley twitched. It was fine, nothing to get upset about…

“Oh, and then,” Aziraphale started, “the man said—”

“I don’t care,” Crowley snapped.

He hadn’t meant to say it. But his whole body shook with the overload. Everything needed to stop.

Aziraphale’s brow furrowed. “You don’t care?”

“No.” Dizzy, Crowley shoved to his feet. The whole restaurant pressed in, crushing him. “Just… stop. I can’t handle you talking more.”

The furrows in Aziraphale’s brow deepened. “You never cared. About me taking before, I mean. You always seemed to like—”

“Just…” Quaking, Crowley held up a hand. “Just shut up! Give me two fucking seconds of quiet!”

Then, before he could blow up, he fled. The quaking was only getting worse, agitation eating him alive. He couldn’t catch his breath, couldn’t stop the mounting explosion.

No amount of steady breaths or calm self-talk helped. He just kept heating up, reaching the boiling point.

It was overflowing now, no matter how hard he tried to choke it back under control. He couldn’t see, couldn’t think.

Gritting his teeth, he paused in the middle of an alley, clenched his fists, closed his eyes. It didn’t help. Nothing helped, and he’d probably pissed off the only person who ever cared about him even slightly.

The overload got worse and worse, a building helpless fury that tumbled out in smoke. He let out a howl, wordless distress.

Lightning exploded around him. Crashing into the buildings, the ground, shooting up into the sky.

It died down with a rumble, smoke still billowing from him, and he snarled as he shook himself off. The anger hadn’t died down, not even with the release.

It never died down.

“Oh my,” a voice said from behind him. “I didn’t know you could do that.”

Crowley whipped around, shaking. He would be shaking for hours at this rate. “What the deuce are you doing here? Why are you following me?”

“Well, you’re quite clearly…” Biting his lip, Aziraphale hesitated. “Struggling, shall we say?”

That was an understatement. But the gentle concern in his voice brought tears to Crowley’s eyes.

The dark glasses weren’t enough to hide the tears. He twisted around, stomped off.

Aziraphale fell in step beside him.

They walked down narrow alleys, through the forum, back into alleys. Crowley was still smoldering, still didn’t trust himself to speak. If he spoke, he might blow up again, and it was bad enough that he’d done it once.

Gradually, though, his strength failed. The tears rose again, and he couldn’t choke them back. He couldn’t push himself, not anymore. He’d run out of energy.

Exhausted, he crumpled to the ground and pulled himself to lean against a building. Aziraphale, who had been walking silently beside him the whole time, vanished.

Crowley couldn’t blame him. After all, who would want to be around someone who got angry enough to blow up?

“Here, I brought you some more wine. I-I thought it might help.”

Startled, Crowley looked up. Aziraphale hovered nearby, a jug in hand. “Why’d you come back?”

Aziraphale’s eyebrow lifted. “Because… I thought it might help? You seem to be having a particularly awful day.”

Crowley opened his mouth to reply, then closed it. He pushed his sunglasses up, wiped his eyes, took a deep breath.

“Awful week,” he finally managed, almost burst into tears. “It’s been an awful week. Sorry, I didn’t mean…”

He exhaled in a gust, worn out. Didn’t have the energy to put it in words.

Aziraphale sat beside him, holding out the jug. “It’s okay. And you don’t have to explain to me, if it’s too hard. We can just share a drink, silently.”

Choked up, Crowley took the jug. Maybe later, he could try to articulate what the helpless anger at existence was like, especially when it surged out of control. But for now, drinking silently with Aziraphale sounded damn good.

[bleedingichorhearts]

𝕳𝖞𝖉𝖗𝖆 𝕭𝖚𝖓𝖉𝖑𝖊

𝕬𝖚𝖙𝖍𝖔𝖗: Figured our lovely hydras needed their… lovin’.

𝕿𝖆𝖌𝖌𝖊𝖉: @kit-williams(gibbed me angst brain), @egrets-not-regrets, @bispecsual, @gallifreyianrosearkytiorsusan.

Thought this song “Fear of the Water” by SYML fit this one.

TW // Angst?

Everything felt gloomy today.

The sun wasn't out to shine across the mountainous landscape to feed the numerus tall grass, wildflowers and pines. It didn't come out and warm my back of the early mornings. It simply was stuck.

Stuck behind dark gray clouds that started off light, that looked soft to touch like some cotton ball. Winds that started off as a quiet breeze before becoming winding howls. Yet not strong enough to send you off your feet. This one was meant to bring in the incoming storm over the sea.

You can see how the dark clouds in the distance rolled, flashing once or twice to show a lighter color of the cloud it once was. How the sea beneath it seemed to grow agitated by the clouds that rumbled back in competition like it was a war between the sea and sky.

You lean back on the wooden bench as the wind whips at the tail of your wool coat. Enjoying the battle of the elements. The smell of fresh rain reaching your nose before the rain itself did, patting softly down on your coat while it absorbed into the wool.

You know you should have headed inside and cozy yourself up with a soft, or perhaps a weighted blanket in hand with a warm cup of hot coco and a book, but you don't make a single move to do so. To enraptured with the cold... calmness the storm brings.

You close your eyes to enjoy the sounds the wind brings among the whispering grass, shuttering bushes, trees and wildflowers. To enjoy what this moment of rain could enhance the flora around you. Oh, how this type of scent never failed to be compared to the candles sold in markets.

Maybe, the Hydra's won't mind if I just sat here a little longer? To leave me to the storm that should have been considered too strong for me to sit out for. That should have had me running back to shelter. To my home. To my hydra's.

Yet, you stayed on that bench. Never moving when the wind whipped it warnings. Never moved when the rain became a little harsher, pelting down on your body. Never moved when the rumbles of the clouds warned you of the storms upcoming arrival. When you know you should have.

A soft coo pulls you out of your space. Your eyes opening up to see a legionnaire standing above you. His glowing green visor staring down at you while he hovered over you. Blocking as much as the downing weather he could from you with his bright blue armor.

Leviathan, you recognize him from the different colored visor. The one who care's a little too much for an Astarte's for his size, but then again. Didn't they all care a little too much for a simple human like me?

Your eyebrows furrow up in sudden deep thought, eyes staring through Leviathan like he wasn't there as these thoughts raided your mind for weeks, months, possibly years, and right in front of him too. God you were a mess, weren't you?

Levithan coos again and comes forward to scoop you up in his arms bridal style as you immediately snuggle into his armor. Not caring if it was wet or hard on your skin. You just needed someone to cling to right now. Needed someone to catch your silent tears as they mix with the rain on his armor.

Leviathan holds you closely, listening, feeling as you silently cry into his armor as he makes his way down the hill. Avoiding the trees, tall grass and big bushes that whipped around for him too much for his taste until he was back into the comfort of the house.

He tried to set you down on your feet, but you cling right back to him every time he tries to gently take you off of him. You just won’t let him leave your side for just a moment. No matter how many times he would softly coo, purr, and chirp at you. Trying to reassure you of his presence. That he wasn’t going nowhere.

Though, it’s not like he doesn’t want to let you go. It just that he wants you to be more comfortable with him. To cuddle you properly without his armor restricting him that pleasure of contact. Yet, you just didn’t let up.

So, the next best thing he could think of is to just lay you back into their nest. Where it was full of the softest, silkiest, and weightiest blankets and pelts in there, just for you. Just for your liking.

He slowly leans you down onto the bed. Your back making contact with the soft furs as he could feel you loosing his grip on his armor, but not completely adamant about it and it wouldn’t be true if he wasn’t either.

He- They were afraid when you didn’t come back to them when the storm rolled in. Each one of them becoming a jumbling mess of nerves. Believing that you had left them alone to themselves. Left them permanently in such a weather they would have a harder time to track you down before you could go anywhere without them.

They were quick to set up a search for you. The three of them splitting up in a direction that you would have gone in. Wanting to find you before the weather became harsher. That would make your scent disappear from them and ruin your tracks.

Although, if that Gray Knight was here. The search would have gone by way faster, but he wasn’t and it was up to them to find her before he comes back. If they don’t, who knows what that Gray Knight would do. Who knows what they would do.

Leviathan started with your regular route as the other two went for the less obvious ones. Making his way towards the tree-line before walking down it where you seemed to have followed along it for a long time before suddenly switching up and headed for the cliffs that over looked the sea.

An odd switch up, but things required new sights.

That’s where he found you however, on the wooden bench looking over the cliff, at the ragging sea with a distant look in your eyes. Something he rarely sees from you and it heavy’s his hearts.

He notifies his brethren that he has found their little serpent. That she hasn’t left them she just… wasn’t in the right mind. She was off on another world. His brothers question him, but he makes it brief and tells them to return home. Their little serpent needs them right now. Not to have questions asked on her whereabouts.

“Please, don’t leave me.” Their little serpent whines as she finally lays back into the nest. Her body engulfed with the blankets and furs. Puffy, red eyes looking up at him. Begging at him to not leave her.

His hearts constricted in his chest of the thought of their little serpent not believing they wouldn’t like her around them. When it was the other way around. They didn’t want her to leave them. They didn’t want her to even remotely dislike them. They didn’t want her to abandon them.

He coos and leans forward on the bed. Watching as it dips under the weight of his armor, sliding you down a little into him. Your hands coming up to slide along his helmet and bring him down into your chest. Your head nuzzling the top of him, tracing the linings of his helmet.

“I want you.” You mumbled, still feeling incomplete. You needed the rest of your boys with you. The rest of them to return home, to return to you. You needed them. You needed all of them. “I want all of you… please?”

Leviathan nuzzles into your chest with a rumbling purr. His visor dimming before lighting up a little brighter. Sending a vox out to his brethren to hurry up, she wanted all of us with her.

You stayed nuzzling the top of Leviathan’s helmet, tracing it occasionally as you dosed off once or twice by the rhythmic purrs Leviathan gave off. Waiting on the arrival of the rest of your boys.

It was a moment before your eyes spotted the familiar form of Hydra leaning through the archway before he could even coo. Your arm coming out to reach for him as he still coos and comes forward on the bed, taking your left side and nuzzling the side of your head, making Leviathan shift down to lay his helmet on your legs. Being mindful of his armor as he nuzzles into your plush thighs.

The last was Asclepius. His soft coos going through the room before anyone could register him as he made quick room to cuddle your left side. His helmet nuzzling the top of your head. A gauntlet coming down to hold you in place by your stomach.

Finally, you felt complete enough that you started to doze off in the bundle of Hydras. Their comforting scents stained with a hint of rain wrapping around you and their soft, combined purrs bring you closer and closer to sleep as it reminded you of being a snuggle pile of very affectionate cats and you realize that you needed them just as much as they needed you.

Your little bundle of Hydra’s.

[sallownights]

out of the woods

word count: 2.1k

CW: angst? idk. hurt/comfort, fluff, suggestive themes i suppose (they make out)

pairing: sebastian sallow x reader

A/N: i just love the song out of the woods. SUE ME. sebastian is still so reputation though

the forbidden forest was always dark in nature. despite the constant fog that clouded the floor, the trees that seem to stretch forever, the not so distant howling from a mongrel, the forest was eerie. 

y/n wasn’t scared of it though. they constantly ventured out, sometimes with a friend, most of the time alone. whenever she was overly stressed or anxious she would go out. whether to go catch some new beasts for her vivariums or for a little fighting spree, she could clear her head. 

today was no different. with the idea of clearing out poacher camps, y/n made plans to go out on their own. not too soon after that plan was formed did a freckled boy decide to join them. 

she was a little frustrated at first. wanting to go alone. needing to be alone. however, whenever sebastian smiled at her, she couldn’t help but say yes to what he needed. 

while walking through the forest, y/n leading, getting more jaded with every snap of twigs breaking behind her. the soft howl of the wind doing nothing to ease the overstimulation she’s facing. 

snap

snap

silence. she takes a second to breathe. 

snap

“sebastian, can we stop for a second?” sebastian’s footsteps stop. y/n squats down to put her head down for a moment. 

‘deep breaths, one… two… three’

“are you alright?” y/n is ripped from her focus by the slytherin. she lifts her head, looking forward. not bothering to see the boy behind her. 

y/n shakily stands. 

“of course, let’s keep going.” y/n keeps walking, smelling smoke semi near her and tries to head in that direction. 

“we can stop if you need, y/n” 

“no, no, it’s alright. i think there’s a camp ahead.”  y/n can feels sebastian staring at her. y/n doesn’t dare to turn around. not to see the face a worry she know he’s sporting. 

y/n sees a yellow tent ahead, quickly casting the disillusionment charm, sneaking up to bushes close to the tent. 

“how many?” y/n hears a low whisper in her ear. normally it would send shivers down her spine but as of right now, but she didn’t get that luxury. she feels her grip tighten around her wand. 

“looks to be just two. there’s a fwooper in a cage.” y/n moves forward seeing a barrel. the ancient magic flowing through her, she throws the barrel against an unsuspecting poacher. then turning the other one into an explosive barrel, leaving them for a moment. she focuses on the one still delirious from a barrel being hurled at their head. casting accio, followed by confringo and a few basic casts, it rendered the poacher unconscious. 

she turns back to the poacher she turned into a barrel. y/n hearing the blood pumping in her ears. she using some of her ancient magic, bringing it closer to her before she can launch it, just as sebastian casts bombarda causing the barrel to explode close to y/n. 

y/n gets blown back, her ears ringing. her body on fire before she feels it getting extinguished almost as fast as it was alight. she pushes herself to her elbows slowly opening her eyes. 

sebastian’s above her, holding her cheek with one hand. she can see his mouth moving but cannot hear him. the ringing not subsiding. y/n lifts her hand to her ear, straining due to the pain for being forced backwards to the ground. 

sebastian’s other hand finds hers and y/n pushing down on her ear.

“can you hear me?” y/n can see sebastian’s mouth moving again but no sound greeted her ears. 

y/n looks around, both of the poachers are down, the fwooper is still in the cage. y/n looks to sebastian, his eyes searching hers. the worry in the air is palpable. y/n takes his hand, that’s never left hers, and points to the fwooper. sebastian’s head doesn’t move. y/n takes her other hand and lightly moves his head and he finally breaks eye contact with her. he looks back to y/n. 

“the fwooper?” y/n nods, taking a guess at what he said. 

sebastian stands and quickly moves to let the fwooper out. the moment the cage is open he goes back to y/n. 

y/n tries to bring herself to her feet, before she stumbles, sebastian’s arms are around her. when she’s fully standing she brings her hands to her ears again. the ringing finally subsiding enough to hear sebastian apologizing against her head. 

“i’m sorry, i didn’t know, i- it’s my fault.” y/n backs up from sebastian despite his tight grip on her. she moves her hands to his forearms. 

“it’s alright. i’m okay.” 

“no, no. don’t do that. i know you’re not okay. i’m so sorry.” sebastian’s eyes are full of unshed tears. 

“it’s not your fault sebastian. i promise.” y/n wraps her arms around sebastian’s waist. sebastian brings her into a tight hug, causing a bit of pain to y/n. he places a hand on her back and another in her hair. 

“i thought-“ sebastian’s statement dying on his lips when he feels y/n’s shoulders shaking against him. 

“love?” he pulls back a little bit to see y/n. she doesn’t look up. bringing her hands to her face. 

“i’m sorry, i’m sorry. i shouldn’t be crying.” y/n says into her hands as she sobs. 

sebastian brings her back into a hug, rubbing his hand up and down y/n’s back. he kisses the top of her head whispering how sorry he is for practically blowing her up. 

y/n wraps her arms around sebastian, again. 

“do you want to talk about it, darling?” y/n nods against him, breathing in his distinct smell of old tomes. 

“not here, though. undercroft, maybe?” sebastian’s nods before kissing the top of y/n’s head again. he pulls away from the hug, taking her hand and starts walking towards the castle. 

after the hour walk back to the castle and sebastian leading y/n, never letting go of her hand until she started to struggle to walk. he wraps his arm around her waist to help her. when they get to the undercroft, sebastian accio’s the couch y/n had summoned earlier this year, saying the undercroft was “too sad without furniture”. 

he picks y/n up as she yelps from the sudden movement. he places y/n carefully down on the couch before running off to a corner where y/n had stocked up on different potions. he searched quickly, trying to find the bright green one y/n made often. 

on the couch, y/n closes her eyes. her anxiety never really subsiding from earlier. being back in the castle made it start to bubble in her stomach again. y/n sits up with a groan, leaning against the arm of the couch. she looks down at her hands, covered with dirt and what looks to be blood. she’s shaking. she clenches and unclenches her fists, attempting to ground herself. the sound of glass hitting itself gets drowned out as she finds herself to be submerged into a quiet void. 

a soft hand gets placed on her shoulder, and a figure moves in front of her, crouching down. 

“take this.” sebastian’s tone is firm but in no way demanding. 

y/n nods, taking the green potion from sebastian and drinking it. a warm hazy feeling coats her body and she feels herself relaxing a bit. while her mind continues to go a mile a minute, her body isn’t in nearly as much pain as earlier. sebastian sits across from y/n, giving her space. y/n looks down and frowns, missing the proximity. 

“do you still want to talk?” sebastian asks. 

y/n looks up and nods, clasping her hands together. a blush creeps onto her face thinking of what she’s about to ask. 

“seb?”

“yes, love?”

“can you uhm-“ y/n looks away and takes a deep breath and looks back to sebastian. his face still full of concern. 

“c-can you hold me?” the blush on y/n’s face deepens. sebastian smiles. 

“of course, darling.” y/n moves her legs up as sebastian comes closer to her and he lifts her to place her on his lap. her back pressed against the arm of the couch, sebastian’s arm over her waist, his other hand taking hers. y/n leans onto sebastian’s chest and he places his head above hers. 

sebastian’s thumb goes over y/n’s knuckles and he places a soft kiss to y/n’s head and rubs small circles into her back. y/n takes a shaky breath. 

“just get stressed out sometimes… and anxious… and overstimulated. most of the time going out and fighting or rescuing animals helps me feel better. which sounds… not great i’m sure and i love going out with you or poppy or natty. however, i think i need to be alone sometimes. that’s nothing against you i just feel like i’m dangerous and i don’t ever want you to… see me differently.“ y/n breathes out, leaning harder into sebastian’s chest. it’s silent for a moment. 

“love, i don’t really think i could see you differently than how i do now.” 

“how do you see me now?” y/n lifts her head off sebastian’s chest, and he breathes out. 

“well, i think you’re strong, fiercely independent, stubborn. you never back down from a challenge, no matter how at odds you are… talented, smart, and beautiful.” sebastian moves a hair out of y/n’s face, the gesture making her blush. 

“you think i’m pretty?”

“that’s what you got from that?” sebastian raises his eyebrow. 

“answer… please.” y/n licks her lips, waiting for him to respond. 

“yes, but i do believe that pretty is an understatement.”

“you’re quite handsome, but i believe that to be an understatement as well.” sebastian’s eyes bore into y/n’s. a blush on both their faces. 

“i’m really sorry i got you hurt.” sebastian says, lowering his gaze to y/n’s hand in his. y/n lifts her hands and places then on the sides of sebastian’s face. 

“hey, listen. it’s okay. i wasn’t all there anyways. so, we’ll just call it a mistake and move on. it’s not your fault anyways.” y/n moves forward and plants a small kiss to sebastian’s nose. her thumbs moving across his cheeks. sebastian moves his hands to her wrists, moving the side of his face to kiss one of her palms. 

“can i make it up to you?” sebastian’s eyes glint with an idea. y/n immediately knows that it’s something she’s either going to hate or love but knowing sebastian, she won’t say no to either. 

“you don’t need to, but if it’ll make you feel better.” she smiles at him. 

“can i take you on a date? a nonviolent, not scary, totally normal date. to hogsmeade?” y/n is stunned for a moment and sebastian is sure she can feel the heat radiating on to her hands. y/n stays silent for a while, making sebastian worry he misread her feelings. 

“we don’t have to-“

“i’d love to, sorry. just, uh, was thinking.” y/n smiles sheepishly. 

“about?” sebastian cocks his head. 

“something.” 

“mm. tell me.” sebastian moves his hands to y/n’s waist and y/n moves her hands to sebastian’s chest. y/n leans in and kisses sebastian quickly before backing away to see his reaction. he smiles and leans in to kiss her again. 

without breaking away, y/n moves herself to straddle sebastian and sebastian moans into the kiss. y/n parts her lips giving sebastian access he so craved. y/n grinds against sebastian, her moans being stolen by him. sebastian starts peppering kisses down y/n’s jawline, moving to her neck. her shaky breaths causing sebastian’s brain to feel dizzy. 

“we should- we should stop.” y/n pushes sebastian back a bit. he leans back, his lips red and swollen. his freckles peaking out against the pink on his cheeks. he’s not entirely great at covering his disappointment. 

“of course, darling. d-“ he practically gasps for air as y/n shifts her position on his lap to lay against him again. “don’t wanna go too far now right?”

“y-yeah, right.” sebastian rubs circles into y/n’s hip, making her skin feel hot. she wraps her arms around his neck, pulling him into a tight embrace. 

“thank you for being here today,” her voice barely over a whisper. 

“there’s nowhere else i’d rather be.” sebastian kisses beneath her ear. y/n releases sebastian from her grip and kisses him softly. when they break apart, y/n pulls sebastian down to lay with her. 

“i’m tired.” y/n states, her face in sebastian’s chest. 

“i can imagine so.” sebastian says, running his hand through her hair. 

“no, like more than normal.” sebastian pulls y/n back and then looks to the ground where the empty potion bottle is and picks it up. 

“oh shit, was this the wrong one?”

[sailorshadzter]

Outsider POV questions why Ghost is with Sansa most of the time when Ghost is Jon's direwolf. They realize why after observing Jonsa.

thanks anon!!!

send me prompts

The first thing Jaime Lannister notices after he’s settled into Winterfell is the great white wolf that never seems to stray from Lady Stark. Each and every time he tries to find a moment with her, to speak with her privately, if even for a moment, he finds that white wolf at her side, bearing its teeth and glaring at him with hellish red eyes. He’s surprised that a woman could ever be unafraid of the creature, but oftentimes he finds her quieting the wolf with a gentle touch of her hand, passing him by before he can bring himself to speak aloud to her. It’s almost as if the wolf doesn’t wish for the Lady of Winterfell to even speak with him. And though he doesn’t want to admit it, the last thing he wants to do is cross the beast. 

He steps out into the courtyard, where the young men are already settled into their usual morning routine; even the youngest lads are learning the art of the sword, in hopes they would have enough manpower to fight against the army of the dead quickly approaching. “Jaime,” a voice says his name and he looks up, finding the ever interesting Brienne of Tarth standing there at the head of the group. “Keep going!” She calls out to the pairs and turns to him as he approaches her where she stands. “I was wondering when you would make good of your promise to help me train these young boys.” 

Jaime can’t help but to grin in her presence, shifting his glance quickly to the boys, each little pairing reminding him of his youth, days long gone, when he’d been eager to hold a sword of steel and not the wooden one meant for children, as he’d often complained. “Might I ask you something?” He asks then, turning back to face the woman, knowing of all people she would know the answer to his question better than anyone else. “That white wolf… I always find it in the presence of Lady Stark… I thought it belonged to Jon Snow.”

To his surprise, a secret sort of smile curves on Brienne’s lips as she glances towards a boy that’s let out a pained howl- his fingers caught by his opponents wooden sword. “One might say the wolf is loyal to both,” she says in a roundabout way, though when Jaime frowns, unsatisfied with her answer, she chuckles. “It’s true, the wolf is Jon’s, but Lady Sansa has become his closest companion, especially in the time that Jon has been away from Winterfell.” Though not entirely accepting of this answer, he moves on from it, deciding perhaps there were more important things to worry about. 

And so, he falls into place beside her, commanding the boys they will train to fight like men.

[ x x x ]

Later that night, Jaime is back in his rooms, though standing at the window that overlooks what was once gardens, but now is nothing but a frozen wasteland. Supper had only just ended, so while it was late, he supposes it’s not all that surprising to see the two forms sneaking through the old garden gate. 

Blinking, he realizes as the moon shifts behind a cloud, illuminating the gardens, he knows the two figures he sees out there. The moonlight catches the vivid red hair he knows belongs to the Lady of Winterfell and the dark curls, though tied back, he knows belongs to her half-brother. What could they be doing, he wonders, watching still as Jon Snow opens his arms to her and she goes willingly, sinking into his grasp as only a lover might do. That’s when it all begins to make sense in his head- the wolf was hers, because she was Jon’s. Direwolves were incredibly smart and loyal beasts and if it was important to its master, it would be important to the wolf. Now Jaime understands the truth about why the wolf remained so close to her side, protecting her as Jon Snow hoped to protect her. 

His lips twitch with a smile, recalling then the look on Brienne’s face when he had asked about the wolf. It was as if she knew this truth he was just now discovering for himself. Jaime can’t help but to laugh as he watches further, until the two disappear into the darkness of the night, the moon hidden behind a cloud.

Now, it all made sense.

[stormkobra-5]

Hi darling 💖 congratulations on your 1600 followers 🌟! If requests for the prompts are still open, could I request 14) our muses aren’t together yet but one of them asks the other to stay the night so they won’t be alone.  With Steven Grant please? Thank you 💫

Hello and thank you! ILY!!!

Prompt: 14 ) our muses aren’t together yet but one of them asks the other to stay the night so they won’t be alone + Steven Grant

Rating/Warnings: 18+ graphic nightmares, gore/violence/major character death, angst, hurt/comfort, mention of Marc and Jake but they don’t have a big part, reader and Steven have been friends for a very long time, the beginning is very dark IDK WHAT HAPPENED OK

Steven was running.

His lungs burned for air and his muscles shook he’d been running for so long. He could hear the jackals’ howling laughter gaining on him, but he couldn’t see them. He couldn’t see anything. All he saw was shadows, aside from the faint hues of purple light that glowed softly before disappearing, lighting up streets that looked vaguely familiar. He couldn’t summon his suit; he couldn’t hear Marc, or Jake. He couldn’t even feel them. Hell, he’d even accept Khonshu right about now.

Steven skidded to a halt, trying to catch his breath. A flash of deep indigo lightning cracked overhead, lighting the black clouds and… and your flat building.

Why was he here?

He heard the vaguest echo of a scream. Then again— your voice, calling his name, you were screaming— oh god—

Steven bolted up the stairs, knowing his way to your door by heart. No, no no no no no not her, please not her, let her be, don’t hurt her—

Your screams grew louder as he closed the distance between him and your door in a run that would’ve put even Marc’s to shame. But he wasn’t fast enough, he was moving too slow, far too slow…

“Y/N!” He tried to yell for you, to let you know he was coming, but his voice was stuck in his throat. The hallway seemed to lengthen, making his movements like sludge. Allowing him to hear every second as your bloodcurdling shriek was torn into a gargle, as he heard ripping and tearing and crunching and he was too late, too slow and too late…

He finally rounded the corner to find the jackal hovering over you, but… but you were everywhere, blood and bits coating your entire melting flat in a way that should be impossible; maybe a rational part of his brain knows that this can’t be real, it’s impossible, but all he knows is your screams, and you’re all over him, you’re all over him—

Steven jerked violently awake with a terrified scream of his own, flying out of bed and frantically wiping at his body. The dream-afterimage of your remains dripping from his hands and soaking his clothes was burned into his eyes, even as Marc and Jake sprung into action to try and calm him down.

“Buddy, hey— calm down. What happened?”

“Breathe, hermano. Breathe.”

He was trying. Steven knew he should probably find a brown paper bag or something, because he was sure that he was hyperventilating. He hadn’t even realized that he’d summoned his suit as he fumbled for his phone, struggling to dial your number.

“Steven?” Your voice— calm, gentle— made him let out a choked sob of relief. It only concerned you, but at least you weren’t screaming. He couldn’t stop hearing it on a repeat in his ears. “Hey— Steven, honey, what’s wrong? What happened?”

“C-can I come see you?” Steven managed, although it was a struggle. “Please?”

“Yeah, of course. Should I come to you?”

“NO!” Steven yelled, and he can just picture you flinching in surprise. “I-I mean… Just… Just stay there, yeah? And grab a knife. Hide. Until I get there. Please? Don't open the door unless it’s me, ok?”

“O-ok, Steven. You’re worrying me— what’s happening?”

“I-I—“ Steven’s shoulders shook, a high-pitched whine coming out of his throat as he struggled to hold his sobs back. He couldn’t stop seeing it, your body, destroyed… “C-can you stay on the phone with me? Please? While I’m on my way?”

“Yeah,” You answered softly, and he heard you moving around. “I have a big kitchen knife. And I’m hiding under the bed. Is that ok?”

Steven was bolting out of the flat. He didn’t even lock his door; was it even closed? He didn’t care. He knew it was just a nightmare, like his alters were telling him, but he couldn’t… he couldn’t leave you on your own now. He didn’t want to wake up tomorrow and know that a jackal tore you apart because he wasn’t there.

With the suit, it took a lot less time than it would have if he’d chosen to run to your place without it.

You were his best— and only— friend. He’d met you back when he’d still worked at the museum, when you snarked at Donna in his defense; and you’d been nigh inseparable ever since. But maybe Steven felt a little more for you than just friendship.

He loved the ways your eyes lit up when you talked about something that you were passionate about, showing a window to your fiery soul. He loved the way you showed kindness to even the smallest of things. He loved that whenever your favorite season came around you were pulling him around to twenty different places just to experience it.

He loved you.

You were the only one he loved. He wondered, sometimes, if you loved him, too. You’d never had a boyfriend in the years that you’ve known him, and you’d frown whenever he’d try (and fail, purposefully or not) to go on a date of his own, convinced you’d never fall for him.

He wondered.

But what if something happened to you? Like his nightmare? What if he never got to tell you? What if? What if? What if?

Steven listened to your breathing after telling you to keep quiet so that no one heard you. In, and out. In, and out. You’re breathing. You’re fine.

Steven started rapidly pounding on your door when he reached it. “I’m here, love! I’m here!”

He visibly sagged with relief when he saw you, disheveled and startled and awkwardly carrying a knife. Alive and uninjured. Steven started to say your name, but couldn’t; he rushed forward to drag you into a tight hug, sobbing into your shoulder. He didn’t realize that you’d guided him to the couch until you sat him down, urging him to breathe.

“Shh, Steven, it’s okay; I’m right here, okay?”

He tried to focus on your voice as he evened his breathing, following your instructions, forcing himself to breathe like you were.

Steven stared at you. At your loving eyes full of concern and your soft hair and your perfect face. His suit was gone, allowing him to reach up and take your face in his without stopping to take his gloves off. He ran his thumbs over the apples of your cheeks, feeling you. Feeling your warmth against his skin. But it wasn’t enough.

Before he knew what he was doing, he was leaning up and pulling you close for a tender kiss.

Your lips molded together perfectly, and at your little whimper of surprise he gave a soft moan. He licked into your slack mouth, prompting you to actually return the kiss; he swept an arm around your back and pulled you flush against him. He pulled back for air with fresh tears streaking down his face and new sobs on his lips.

It took him several seconds to realize what he’d just done, but his voice came out as only a whisper. “I… I’m sorry…”

“Did you mean it?” Your question caught him off-guard. You looked hopeful. Or maybe it was just wishful thinking on his part. “The kiss? Did you mean it?”

Steven’s eyes locked with yours as he tried to calm down. Did he mean it? More than anything. “Of course I… ‘Course I meant it. I’ve always… I’ve…” He head fell as you cradled his shaking form to your chest, shushing him. “I had a nightmare,” He sniffled, and he felt you run your fingers through his hair. “I… I lost you. I wasn’t fast enough. And I lost you. I couldn’t save you. And there was just…” Steven leaned into you, squeezing your torso tightly. “...There was so much blood…”

“Steven,” You breathed after a few moments, “I’m here now, okay? It was just a nightmare. It wasn’t real.”

“Yeah?” Steven muttered into the crook of your arm, wet from his tears— he was still trembling uncontrollably. You reached for a blanket to cover him with, laying back on the couch with him. “...Can… Can I stay the night?” His voice was so small, so scared. You hugged him closer.

“Of course you can, Steven.” For emphasis, you kissed the top of his head.

“Can I… take you out to a proper dinner, tomorrow? Maybe?”

He felt your smile against his scalp and finally started to relax into your loving— and very much living— embrace. “Yeah. I’d like that, very much.”

Give me a character and a prompt!

[siberian-xanadu]

Hey guys, I wrote this flash fiction thing really quickly, and I want to know if it's any good to develop further into a short story. I got inspired yesterday while on the bus to school, and pondering the fact on how dangerous it can be to be trapped in a car with someone. TW for implied domestic abuse, implied drug/alcohol usage. Betrayal

“And another thing!”, she said, ire burning in her voice. She was as transfixed on the road ahead as the person driving next to her. She couldn’t bear to bring her gaze to meet his; there was a time now lost where she couldn’t bear to look away. “All I wanted you to do was put the dishes away in the way I showed you! How difficult is it to separate the cups and mugs?”

Truth be told, she was just searching for more reasons to justify her decision. She was scrutinizing every action or inaction her partner had ever taken in order to prove to herself that he had always been like this. That she had been too blind to see. That these little indiscretions that she would have otherwise let go were indicative towards some larger problem. However, there was no way she could have known. 

His grip on the steering wheel tightened. His foot involuntarily flexed on the gas, pushing them a little faster. It was true: they never agreed on how to put the dishes away. It was something that was laughed about until a few days ago. They also never agreed on the order of sweeping and vacuuming, or which season was the best, or if they preferred dogs or cats, and these, too, were swept aside as irrelevant. They still were. 

The car sped on in silence. It was the end of an overcast day; the time of day where afternoon and evening meet. The dark clouds overhead seemed to thicken in anticipation of the coming night. The forecast had predicted rain that evening, and true to word, the first droplets of rain began to splash the window. The wind began to pick up. Unconsciously, he flicked the windshield wipers on. 

“It’s hardly raining! Why are you wasting the fluid?”, came her sudden voice from the silence. 

The man allowed a deep sigh to escape. “I did one thing wrong, and now you’re gonna criticize everything I do? There’s plenty of fluid in the fucking car!” It was the first time his voice had raised above a grumble in days. It was the first time he had spoken since they had gotten in the car. It was a sudden outburst of anger that he had not known he was capable; that he usually wasn't capable of. That had changed.

“Oh, so now you’re gonna raise your voice with me?! You know what you did, and you know why I’m so upset! That’s why we’re in this situation!” Her eyes burned with tears, and her cheeks burned with anger. She used the rearview mirror to look into his eyes; the most she had done since she found out. 

“It’s not like I cheated on you,” he said, unnaturally evening the tone of his voice.

“This is worse than cheating,” she replied, with as much iciness as she could muster. She swallowed, and stared out the passenger window, attempting to compose the next few words. “If you had cheated, you would just be betraying me. By doing… by choosing to do what you did, you betrayed yourself too, and that is what I cannot forgive.”

She stared at him. He stared ahead. The streetlights flicked on, and rain continued to come down. The wind howled. They did not speak. The only voice to break the silence came from the GPS, directing them to get off at the next exit. 

He missed the exit. 

“What the fuck are you doing? You were supposed to get off!”, she yelled. This time, there was just a twinge of desperation in her voice.

“I changed my mind.” His words were cool, with a sense of undeserved finality. 

“Are you high or are you crazy?”

“Neither.”

“Bullshit!” 

“You can call ‘bullshit’ all you want, but I’m telling you the truth!”

She laughed as one does when they catch someone else in a lie. “And you expect me to believe that? Especially now?” 

“I don’t expect you to believe shit! I’m not fucking high though, and I’m not crazy either. You’re the one that’s acting crazy right now!”

“You’re not high right now, and even that I don’t believe! Let me out of this car!” She began to jiggle the side door as he kept driving down the parkway. It was after dusk now; rain poured across the windshield in streams. Thunder cracked in the distance. 

“I’m not letting you out; we’re in the middle of fucking nowhere!”

“And we wouldn’t be if you had gotten off at the exit earlier! I want out of this car, and I want out of this relationship!”

“You’re not going anywhere.”

Their bodies lurched forward as the car came to a sudden stop. Their eyes met for the first time since she had found the bottles and spoons left at the bottom of an unused drawer. Unlike the first time they met, or the first time they made love, or on their wedding day, this was no loving gaze. It was a staredown between two strangers. The rain kept coming down around them, providing a percussive ostinato against the lonely wailing of the wind. Inside the car, it was dark; their faces only illuminated by the streetlights above. 

“Why did you stop?” “I’m turning this car around, and we’re going home.” “No!”, she protested, genuine fear overtaking her voice. This was not the man she married. She had no idea where she was, and she was stuck in a car in the cold, dark, pouring rain. Every muscle tensed; her breathing quickened. 

“You said you wanted out of this relationship. You said you wanted out of the car. I will be giving you both of those things when we get home,” his voice crescendoed with every word.

He turned the car back on. He made a U-turn. She pounded on the window, trying to get the door open to no avail. He ignored her. He ignored the exit as they passed again on the other side of the road. 

One way or another, she would be leaving the relationship that night. 

[lifeofkaze]

Owl & Eagle

Even though you're not celebrating, I want to wish you a very merry Christmas, @pathofstars! You're one of the most kind-hearted, genuine, lovely and caring people I've had the honour of meeting this past year.

Every time I see your artwork on my feed - may it be this fandom or another - it makes me smile from ear to ear, and I feel in awe of your talent. You've made me so happy with the two amazing gifts you made me, so it is only right and proper to give you something back.

I'm sorry I had to spoil the surprise early for you, but you know why.

Merry Christmas! 🎄❄️

There was a cold wind coming from the East, bringing with it the smell of snow. It blew across the frozen grounds of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, making the dark surface of the Black Lake ripple in the afternoon sun.

Kiara Fair had no eye for the beauty of the frosty landscape below. She set her feet carefully on the stairs leading towards the Owlery, so as not to slip on the thin layer of snow covering the steps. Stopping to catch her breath, Kiara tipped her head into her neck, her eyes wandering over the long icicles hanging from the protruding roof of the tower above her. 

Shuddering at the thought of what might happen should they fall on her, Kiara clutched the bag of bird treats she was carrying tighter to her chest. Ignoring the burning in her thighs from making the long journey through the snow, she continued her way towards the top.

"What a great idea to get attached," she huffed to herself, her breath forming in front of her mouth and nose in clouds. "Perfect weather to go outside and feed a bird that's not even yours. Why stay by the cosy fireplace when you could freeze to death over some owl treats?"

Her muttering ceased as she took a quick step to pass beneath the icicles and dived into the dim half-light of the Owlery. As soon as she did, the howling East wind ceased, and quiet wrapped around her, only broken by the soft hooting of the owls and the occasional rustle of straw and feathers. 

Wary amber eyes watched Kiara from all sides as she made her way to the big table in the middle of the room, which was perpetually covered in feathers, bird food, and a thick layer of droppings. She sat her bag down onto it and softly clicked her tongue.

"Hello, it's me. Come on, I brought you something."

No sooner had she spoken than a small barn owl floated into view from up above. As it landed on the table before her, Kiara’s face split into a smile.  

"Hello, beautiful."

The owl hooted absentmindedly, curiously eyeing the bag of owl treats. Kiara chuckled to herself.

"It's alright," she said and opened the bag a little wider. "Tuck in." 

The little owl lost no time burying its beak in the sack of bird treats. Her lips still curved into a smile, Kiara watched it gulp down beak after beak of food, when suddenly a big shadow perched on the wooden beam above them caught her attention.

Directing her gaze upwards, Kiara froze. There in the woodwork, an eagle was sitting. It was looking down at them with mistrustful golden eyes, and even from a distance, Kiara could see how sharp its beak and talons were. She furtively moved to the side, and the eagle's eyes followed her, the only thing about it that seemed to be moving at all. Shuddering, Kiara’s eyes flicked between the happily munching barn owl and the bird of prey.

"Hey buddy," Kiara whispered in a cheerful but urgent voice. "Look, there's a great spot to snack over here. Let's move a little, shall we?"

The only reply she got was the rustle of the bag as the owl dipped its head back into it. Stifling a sigh, Kiara tugged on the sack of treats.

"Come on, we really need to go eat somewhere else now."

Not the slightest bit impressed with having its food taken away, the owl hooted in protest and flapped its wings. One of them hit Kiara in the face, and on instinct, she stumbled backwards. 

A stir went through the Owlery as more and more owls began to shuffle on their perches. Kiara swallowed heavily. If the owls woke, there would be chaos. She didn't want any of them to get hurt, so she had to get this eagle away from the Owlery somehow. She gave the bird of prey a stern look. 

"Shoo," she told it, her words accentuated by a wave of both her hands. "Shoo!"

Its golden eyes now fixed on her, the eagle remained right where it was. A frown crossed Kiara's face. If she didn't know any better, she could have sworn that it almost looked amused.

"Shoo!" she repeated, louder this time, wincing as the flutter around her intensified. The first owls were leaving their sleeping nooks and making their way outside through the openings in the walls. The eagle watched after them before returning its unnerving stare to Kiara. She gritted her teeth. 

"Shoo, I said!" she yelled, grabbing a fistful of bird treats and - under the protest of the little barn owl - hurled them at the eagle. 

Upon being hit square in the face, the eagle let out a scream that cut through Kiara's eardrums, and flapped its impressive wings. Thinking it was about to tear down on her and the little barn owl, Kiara did the first thing she could think of. She reached for her wand and pointed it at the eagle.

"Stupefy!"

The spell hit the eagle right in the chest. Its wings froze mid-motion before it went limp and dropped from its beam, hitting the ground with a dull thud. As the dust slowly settled around it, Kiara took a cautious look at the motionless bird. She inched closer, a sigh of relief leaving her lips as she saw the eagle's chest rising and falling, if only slightly.

"Hey," she said, carefully touching the bird with the tip of her boot, "it's alright. You can get up now. I'll just turn around, and you go and flutter off."

As expected, the eagle didn't react. With a jolt of worry, Kiara knelt before the animal, lifting one of its wings with her finger. When she retracted it, the wing slumped to the ground again.

"I hit it pretty hard, didn't I?" she muttered to the little barn owl, who sat perched on her shoulder and hooted in confirmation.

Reaching a resolution, Kiara scooped the eagle up into her arms. Hagrid and Professor Kettleburn were out to hunt for Christmas trees and escaped Chimaeras, respectively; that left only one person capable of helping her. 

***

Professor McGonagall was in her classroom, poring over the latest assignments of her N.E.W.T class when the door crashed open and Kiara stumbled in. Her eyebrows rose over the rim of her spectacles when the flustered Ravenclaw student dropped what she had held cradled to her chest onto the laden desk. 

"Miss Fair," she said and drew a deep breath, "what is your explanation for… this?"

She pointed at the bird, whose feathers were now sprawling over the half-corrected essays. Taking a closer look at it, she paled and rose to her feet in an abrupt motion. The eagle gave a miserable squawk as she examined it. Kiara watched her quietly. If she hadn't known better, she could have sworn that McGonagall was talking to the eagle. 

"I must ask you to leave, Miss Fair," she presently said, her lips pressed together in a fine line.

"What?" Kiara spurted out, half in fear for the eagle, half in indignation at being sent away.

"This bird requires my immediate attention. Thank you for bringing it here, but there is no further reason for you to linger. Five points to Ravenclaw."

Kiara was too confused to thank her. "What are you going to do with it? Hagrid and Professor Kettleburn are somewhere on the grounds."

"Believe me when I say that I'm perfectly able to handle this bird myself."  

She pointedly looked at the door, making it clear that it was time to go. Once outside of the classroom, Kiara paused. Not feeling like returning to the Ravenclaw common room just yet, she looked around the half-lit corridor. Something gleaming on the ground by a suit of armour caught her attention. Wandering closer to inspect it, Kiara found the source of the reflection to be an old yet well-polished key. A smile of delight forming on her features, she bent to retrieve it for her collection when the door to the Transfiguration classroom opened and someone stepped outside.

The moment Talbott Winger saw her, he froze. Kiara stared at him with wide eyes, her new key momentarily forgotten.

"Winger," she said in astonishment, "where did you come from?"

"None of your business," Talbott replied curtly. He tried to push past her, but Kiara moved in his way.

"You weren't in there when I was just now," she said, her eyes narrowed in suspicion. "Were you hiding?"

"Don’t be ridiculous."

"I'm not!"

They continued arguing back and forth until the door to the classroom swung open once more and Professor McGonagall appeared in the doorway. Upon seeing Talbott and Kiara, she glanced left and right before placing firm hands on both their backs and ushering them back inside. 

"What's going on, Professor? Where has Talbott come from?" As soon as she saw that the desk on the raised dais was empty, Kiara turned to Talbott with flashing eyes. "Where has the eagle gone? What have you done with it?" 

"Nothing," Talbott rolled his eyes. "Tell her that I didn't do anything," he added in McGonagall's direction, but she shook her head at him. 

"It's not my responsibility to get you out of the trouble you summoned, Mr Winger."

When it was evident that there was no support to be gained from her, Talbott raised his hands in exasperation. 

"Alright, Fair. Promise that what I'm about to tell you is going to stay within this room."

"I'm not promising anything," Kiara replied angrily. "What happened to the eagle?"

"Nothing," Talbott repeated. "The eagle is me."

Silence followed his words. Her mouth having dropped open, Kiara blinked in confusion. 

"Is this some kind of joke?"

"I can assure you, it’s not. I am the eagle. I'm an Animagus." 

Still dubious, Kiara looked Talbott up and down. Upon closer inspection, she thought his nose looked slightly swollen, a bruise forming around it right where the eagle’s beak had hit the ground. She swallowed heavily. 

"You really are an Animagus?"

Talbott nodded. "I'm not registered with the Ministry. No one but Professor McGonagall knows. And you," he added, giving Kiara a taxing look, "so don't go blaring it out to the whole school."

Kiara felt her cheeks grow hot, partly from his assumption that she would do any such thing, and partly from knowing that she didn't have anyone to tell such a secret to even if she wanted. As much to show Talbott that she wasn't intimidated by him as to push away the feeling of loneliness rising in her, Kiara crossed her arms in front of her chest.

"How does one become an Animagus anyway?"

"By performing the proper rites and spells."

"And how do you do that?"

Talbott raised an eyebrow. "Not like I'm going to tell you."

"Why not?"

"Because it's bad enough that I had to trust you with my secret. No way that I'm going to let you share it." 

Kiara opened her mouth to protest when McGonagall cleared her throat. "Mr Winger, Miss Fair, I believe you can continue your discussion on your way back to Ravenclaw Tower. Miss Fair, I expect you to honour Mr Winger's wish to remain quiet about his… abilities. Mr Winger, you will come and see me after class tomorrow. One more thing," she added as the two of them turned to leave. "Until further notice, both of you are banned from visiting the Owlery."

Talbott and Kiara froze.

"But why?" 

"Professor!"

"I didn't even do anything!"

"I was only protecting the owls!"

"Mr Winger, you chose to transform without need despite me telling you not to. As for Miss Fair, did you really think I didn't notice I was short an owl?"

Kiara felt herself blush. "I don't know what you mean, Professor." 

"I assure you, you are neither the first student to take a liking to an animal from this classroom, nor will you be the last. Do try to refrain from coming for the ferrets next, please. There's a reason they've been banned as pets."

"But about the Owlery…"

"Good evening, Miss Fair."

Hanging their heads, Talbott and Kiara trudged from the room. They walked to their common room in silence, where they found quiet corners for themselves as far away from each other as possible.

They did their best to avoid crossing paths for the next few days, but eventually, Kiara decided that her punishment had been enough. She missed her little owl friend, and what had she done wrong, anyway? She had wanted to protect the birds, nothing more. Surely that wasn't a reason to condemn her?

When she made her way to the Owlery, at last, her spirits lifted with every step she climbed towards the top. Once she ducked through the doorway, however, her good mood vanished when she saw who was standing at the table in the middle of the room. 

"What are you doing here?"

"I could ask you the same," Talbott said, narrowing his eyes at Kiara. "You're forbidden to enter the Owlery."

"As are you," Kiara raised her chin. "I could report you to McGonagall."

"Not without admitting you were here, too."

They stared at each other until Talbott dropped his eyes. "Looks like we're both flouting our punishment. How about you go and do your stuff, I do mine, and we both pretend this never happened?"

After a moment, Kiara nodded. "Fine. But no weird tricks, you hear me?"

Talbott rolled his eyes for an answer and returned to the parchment he had been scribbling onto. Kiara turned away to find the little barn owl already sitting behind her. With a smile, she ran her hands over the owl's soft feathers, trying to ignore the scratching of Talbott's quill behind her. 

They spent several minutes in silence until Talbott eventually cleared his throat.

"Thank you for not telling anyone what you saw the other day."

Kiara didn't look up from where her fingers were resting on the owl's back. Her shoulders tensed. "No need."

"No, really. Anyone else would have shouted it from the rooftops, or told their friends, at least."

"I'm not like anyone else."

"Not a gossip, you mean?"

"Not a person with friends." 

Her snappy reply was met with silence. Talbott nodded his head.

"I see."

When he didn't continue, Kiara raised her brows. "That's all you have to say?"

"What more is there? You're a loner, just like me. Nice to know there's others who prefer not to be babbled at all day." 

Despite herself, Kiara's lips curved into a smile, albeit a small one.

"I guess so." 

When Kiara packed up her things and made her way to the exit, Talbott sighed and called her back.

"Hey Fair, wait. Did you really mean what you said about wanting to be an Animagus?" 

Kiara frowned. "Of course."

"I could show you if you like."

"Really?" Kiara called out, her mouth suddenly dry. She must have spoken louder than she had realised because the little barn owl almost tripped over its own two feet. Talbott pulled a face. 

"Lesson number one - don't screech at me like a rabid owl. Once I have everything we need, I'll contact you."

He answered a few more of Kiara's questions, and by the time she was ready to leave, she was giddy with excitement. As she was about to pass through the doorway, Talbott called after her.

"Just so you know, it's not going to be easy. I hope you're not afraid of a challenge."

Kiara flashed him a grin over her shoulder. "Here’s a lesson for you, Winger. I'm never afraid of a challenge."  

[bysithis]

TESfest22 - storms

my belated entry for day two of TESfest22, on the theme of storms. hope you folks enjoy! tagging @tes-summer-fest once again.

faelen is actually a new character of mine, and this was my first time writing for him. still getting to grips with his voice, i think, but this was fun to write nonetheless!

ao3 link

-

When Faelen awakes, face-down in the dirt with a mouthful of mud and grass, the first thing he knows is the cold. 

When he came to Skyrim, that cold took him unawares. He’d known nothing like it in Valenwood, with its humid mangroves and their damp, smothering heat. Skyrim’s icy winds were sharp, unforgiving, tearing at any inch of exposed skin. It was unbearable, but he had adjusted. Adapted.

Or so he thought. And yet, here he is, soaked through and shivering on the forest floor, teeth rattling in his skull. 

The crack of thunder. Faelen pushes himself up with a start, hands planted in the dirt, chest heaving with every ragged breath. Gods, where is he? He doesn’t recognise this place. The trees are strange to him, almost frightening in the ghostly half-light filtering through the leaves. Here and there, trunks have been smashed by the storm, splintered into shards red with sap.

Another rumble. Faelen turns his head up towards the sky, waiting for the next flash of lightning to split the clouds. And when it does— 

When it does, his gaze catches on something momentarily illuminated in the treeline. A face painted in white, in the incandescence of the storm.

“Who’s there?!”

His voice is swallowed by the howling of the wind. Instinctively, he reaches behind him for his bow, only for his hand to close on empty air. With a hissed curse, he reaches for the dagger at his hip instead, gripping at the hilt with frozen fingers. 

“Who is there?!” Already his throat is raw from screaming—yet, in this wind, he might as well be speaking in a whisper. “Come out, damn you!”

His eyes, beginning to adjust to the darkness now, are drawn to a sudden movement between the trees. Bracken stirring, bending, snapping. The glint of a blade. Faelen grits his teeth, wishing for his bow, and readjusts his grip on the dagger.

“I’ll kill you! I promise you that! Come one step closer, and I’ll—” 

Another flash of lightning. It splits upon the figure before him, broad and strong, decked out in heavy steel armor. Dark hair falls choppy around a fierce, pale face. Faelen can make out a strong, square jaw. Brows drawn in a frown, lips pressed tightly together. Warpaint smudged around pale eyes.

“Vilkas?” Faelen’s voice comes hoarse and croaky, torn and ragged. How long has he been out here? His throat is so dry it feels as if he’s swallowed sawdust. “Gods. It really is you, isn’t it?” Finally, he lowers his hand, the dagger all but forgotten.

“Yeah. It’s me.” Vilkas wastes no time in closing the distance between them, sword lowered, his free hand already reaching out for Faelen’s shoulder. Before the elf has time to say anything else, he finds himself pulled into a crushing embrace, rough lips pressed to his brow. A shaky breath leaves him, swallowed by the storm, but he knows Vilkas feels it; his grip around his shoulders only tightens, and Faelen is all too happy to sink into it.

“What happened?” Vilkas asks, pulling back just enough to look at him. A callused finger curls beneath his chin, tilting his head this way and that to check for cuts and bruises. “You were with us, and then you were gone. Even Aela didn’t see where you went.”

Faelen shakes his head. “I—I don’t know. I don’t remember. I—” He remembers running with the others by his side. Remembers the vicious rain stinging his eyes, the wind ripping through his fur. Ahead of them, the Silver Hand fort loomed above the tundra, dirty orange light glinting through arrow slits in the walls. And then— 

Then, nothing. Then, darkness. Then, waking to the rain pelting his skin and the wind tearing at his armour.

He shakes his head again. “I don’t remember. I just woke up here.” 

Vilkas tries to hide it, but Faelen knows him well enough to catch the look that passes over his features. A shadow of worry, dark and gloomy. But then, Vilkas looks away, off between the trees.

“I’ll get you home. Can you walk?”

“I—I think so.” Looking down at himself, Faelen takes a step back on unsteady legs, hand hovering over Vilkas’ arm. “Yes, I think so. I’m a little shaken, but not hurt.” That’s not entirely the truth: he hurts all over. But he has his pride, at least. He won’t have Vilkas carry him all the way back to Jorrvaskr.

“Alright. Then we’ll—”

Abruptly, Vilkas cuts off, head turning sharply towards the edge of the clearing. Faelen follows his gaze, feeling a sudden icy dread prickle up his spine, the back of his neck, the base of his skull. Breath coming sharp and shallow, he looks up and down the treeline, but can’t see anything. Can’t see anything, or hear anything, or smell anything, but— 

“Get behind me.” 

“What is it? Who is it? Vilk—”

“Faelen—”

“Looks like we found ‘em, boys!” The words are punctuated with another clap of thunder and jeered applause. Taking a stumbling step back, Faelen looks around for the source of the voice, but it’s no use. In the midst of the storm, all is sound and confusion, bolts of lightning shuddering through the sky like so much dragon fire.

But then, the speaker emerges—and with him two others. Three. Four. More? The forest is alive with shadows innumerable, some perhaps in the shape of men.

“Quite the adventure you led us on, mutt.” Faelen can just make out his features in the gloom: a broad, crooked nose, and a balding head of straw-like hair. In his hand hangs a wicked-looking scimitar. “And what’s this? Led us to a friend of yours, did you?”

“A pup!” Supplies another voice in the dark. The first man laughs, barks his agreement.

Through it all, Vilkas remains quiet, steady. When finally they fall quiet, he takes a moment to look them over, the whole lot of them, and slowly says, “I will give you one chance to turn and leave. But only one.”

Another raucous chorus of jeers. The leader is saying something, mocking them in that nasally voice of his, but it fades to little more than background noise as Faelen watches Vilkas drop his sword with a dull thud. As he watches the dark fur sprout from the back of his neck, his hands. Vilkas’ form hunches over, limbs growing long and well-muscled, sharp claws sprouting from his fingers. Past him, still standing in the shadow of the treeline, the man with the scimitar stands quite still, his grin now frozen in a grimace, his face pale.

When Vilkas lunges forward, his roar is louder than the sound of the storm.

[pretty-toastie]

Death

The alley is empty. I am alone. The cold concrete wall presses roughly into my back. Blood trickles from my mouth, trickles between my fingers, trickles around the piece of wood protruding from my stomach. Overhead, I can still see the greenish grey storm clouds. Around me, I can still hear the howling wind of the tornado.

I can feel my life slipping away, and I’m not ready. I don’t think I’ll ever be ready. I’ve devoted my life to fighting Death. I became an EMT, and then when I broke my leg, damaged it so badly I couldn’t anymore, I went back to school, studied biology, researched cures for every disease I could. Found a few, even. When the storms began, I organised rescues, slipped back into the role of a first responder—more leader than someone on the ground, because of my leg,  though I did still occasionally find myself in the thick of things. I poured all of my ingenuity, all of my will, every scrap of fight I had in me into overcoming Death, and now I can feel my life slipping away. I am dying. I am dying, and I am alone.

And then I’m not, because then Death is here.

It catches me as my strength runs out and my will fails and I fall. It cradles me in its arms, wraps me in its cloak. It is warm. I didn’t think Death would be so warm. The ebony fabric is soft, and Death pulls me close and pulls its cloak close around me, and I am encased in softness and warmth and darkness.

Death whispers to me, then. Whispers softly in my ear, quietly, kindly.

Oh, child. You did so well.

Its voice is so gentle, so genuine. Its voice seems to come from all around me, from within me.

You were magnificent, child, you were magnificent. Well done.

“I’m not ready,” I say. My voice comes out small, scared.

I know. I know. So few are. It will be okay, though, child. I will wait for you. I will walk with you.

“I still need to do more,” I say.

There is a pause, and then, if possible, the fabric around me grows softer, and Death holds me closer.

Oh, Death says, and its voice is so full of sympathy and kindness that tears prick at the corners of my eyes. Oh, my child. You saved so many. More than you even know, and each person you saved will go on to save others. You did enough. I am so proud of you, my child.

"But-"

Hush, child. You did enough. It’s okay.

I cry. I cry for all the people I wanted to save but couldn’t. I cry for this sudden kindness. I never expected kindness, never felt I deserved it.

And I cry for myself. I cry because I still am not proud, still don’t feel like I did enough, like I was enough.

Death holds me. I always thought it would be busy, it would be quick, but it makes no move to rush me. It just holds me, whispering words of praise and soothing.

You are enough, it says. You did enough. You should be proud. I am proud. Oh, child, I am so, so proud.

When, finally, I quiet, it wipes the tears from my face, kisses my forehead. Waits.

“Thank you,” I say.

“I- I think I’m ready,” I say.

I feel Death take my hand, its cloak shifting around me. I can see now, nestled against its side, peering out from beneath the inky folds of fabric. I can see the stars all around me, the road that stretches out before me, the door at the end. Death rubs its thumb over my fingers, soothing.

Shall we then?

Together we walk until we reach the end of the path, and then I reach out, place my hand on the doorknob, look up at Death. It nods, softly.

Goodbye, child, but not forever. I’ll see you again.

And then I open the door, and I start to step through, and suddenly memories are flooding through me, of other lives, of me and Death walking this path, of me opening this door many, many times- and then I am on the other side, and Death closes the door behind me and walks back alone.

[chronicparagon]

A Little Game of Cat and Mouse for @s-talking

Footsteps frantically race down the long forgotten path blanketed by grass and weeds creeping over it.  Black boots pound against the soil after leaping off the trail. Leaves of gold, orange, red, and brown crunch as Harmony lands, but she doesn’t stop for much needed reprieve. 

Not when she is not alone! 

Eyes follow her every move, and each of her steps. She can run and take the any twists and turns further into the wilderness,  but she knows better by now. These woods are not her refuge. She cannot hide from those eyes that follow her with ease. She cannot hide, and she cannot run forever. 

The forest is merely a playing field for a rousing game for cat and mouse. 

The night where ghosts and ghouls are thought to haunt this place returns once more. All Hallow’s Eve returns and Harmony finds herself running as though her life depends on it. 

 Dark clouds drift above, cloaking the shimmering stars from the world below. The deep orange glow of the harvest moon slips behind the clouds and further darken the night. 

Does she dare? Does Harmony dare fetch the flashlight from her bag? Silver eyes narrow while a slender hand dives into her purse. Yes, the light would make her stand out in the dark, but he can see her in the darkness. 

It is damned if she does, and damned if she doesn’t. But she needs some light or she could very well run into her pursuer. 

She flinches with a gasp when she hears rustling behind the trees. A large figure slowly moves for her and with the bright beam of light from her flashlight, Harmony quickly races further down. 

What? What should I do? 

Her heart races along with her legs. 

Where do I go?! 

The air thins as it becomes harder to breathe. She screams to see a figure leap over her before landing at the bushes before her with feline grace. The girl spins around and runs along the bend toward a creek. 

The blue plastic slides a little in her sweating palm. Water splashes as she races across the creek before her. Mud splatters on her boots, legs, and some on her shorts. Harmony leaps over a rocky ledge, landing on a grassy hillside. 

Where should I hide? Damn, there would be no point in that! 

The wind howls, and she shudders when a soft voice reaches her ear. A soft, boyish voice carried by the wind saying her name. 

He will find me!

Harmony nearly trips when she runs down the hillside, but catches herself before continuing her race through the rolling grass. It ends in a lower section of the forest. Harmony doesn’t stop running. No matter how her leg ached and her chest burns. 

Danger lurks around her, and she may not be safe! 

Harmony hurries into a thick woodland grove dominated by weeping willows. The stand with black earth covered with moss and shallow water from the nearby wetlands.  Harmony hopes. She hopes and prays that she made it far enough and she bested him. 

She thought that just once...Just one time..She wins. 

Then, the glint of sterling metal steals that hope away. The metal flashes in her flashlight as a dark figure dashes from the depths of the forest.

“AAAH!” A sharp cry shatters the still air. The cool, wet grass seeps through her back when she lands with a heavy mass of muscle pins her down. Her flashlight flies from her hand and lands on the ground just a small distance away from her and her captor. Wind rustles the emerald canopy, the last warning that rain is on the way. She flinches when the sound of a sharp blade dives in, piercing the wood of the tree’s trunk near her head. 

“Oooh...” Harmony groans as her eyes open. Then, silver hues find the twin handles of a butterfly knife embedded in the tree above her. Her head lowers until her gaze capture the deep, black voids looking down at her.  

A young man looms over her, but he is no stranger. 

It is none other than Envy himself. 

Soft lips part to a defeated sigh and her head falls back on the grass. “F...F-fine! Fine...” Harmony speaks, her voice is lighter from little air in her lungs. “I yield. You...Y-you win.” A hand reaches up and gently press against where Envy’s heart would be. Her touch lasts for only a fleeting moment before drifting downward between his pectoral muscles. Slender fingers slowly stroke him, taking in the details of the rippling muscles under his jumper. Harmony blushes as her hand withdraws from just above his navel. Her gaze captures his face while her free hand gently cup Envy’s cheek. A thumb gently stroke arcs over her cheekbone as she takes in every detail of her beloved. 

His ghostly pale skin glows in the darkness. His beautiful features stand out even in the pitch blackness that devour them. Yet his eyes are even darker than the shadows that lurk in the night. 

Her other hand joins and she gently coaxes the Little Killer lower. The autumn wind blows, making the cascading curtain of the weeping willow sway. The wilderness’ mournful song fill the air until the rain begin to fall. But Harmony pays little mind to it. If anything, the cold rain brings relief to her flushed skin. 

Besides, it’s difficult to fret over it when someone so beautiful, yet so deadly, is right here. 

Lips catch him in a soft kiss. Eyes close as her tongue brushes over his lower lip. This invites the Little Killer to ravage her mouth, which she answers by letting her tongue stroke over his and wrestle. Arms wrap around his broad shoulders and her legs wrap around his waist, all the better to keep him close. 

Her heart still pounds against her chest and in turn, against Envy’s chest. That game was dangerous, but she finds it all the more thrilling, and there are times that she doesn’t mind Envy winning...Especially when it ends up with moments like this. 

It is a dangerous addiction from the deadly attraction to the infamous Little Killer.

[storylocke]

Alolan Dusk 4

[It's still a few hours before dawn but a lone figure stands just inside the cave entrance. It had been watching the lights of the Pokemon Lab as the shadows within moved and chattered. The powerful Psychic listened intently to their every word. Some, naturally, had been just friendly banter, but the rest… oh the rest. The lights of the building had gone dark, the communication had ceased. The metallic hunter steps into the pouring rain and moves to where it can sit atop Ten Carat Hill. Its colorful eyes intensify as it gives a snarl at the cozy, broken little shack.]

"You can’t leave well enough alone, can you?"

Kukui:

[Hasn't really been able to sleep at all, but jolts awake at some… sensation. There’s a hostility in the air that he can practically hear ringing in his skull. Stepping out of his room, he gives a harsh whisper up to the loft.] Ilima! Are you awake? 

[There comes a soft stirring from somewhere behind him, curiously drawing him towards the couch where the borrowed outfit is still draped over the back of it. Figures. Despite the offer to use the bedroom up the ladder it looks like the worn out kid never made it that far. The poor agent appears to be sound asleep after only getting off his shoes before passing out.]

Kukui:

[Knowing Ilima, he'd been burning the candle at both ends for the last week. Maybe he isn't one to talk. As he stretches out a hand to shake him, Kukui pauses to wonder if maybe he's just overreacting now. Still, he softly places a hand on Ilima's back] Psst! I need you up.

Ilima:

Hm? [Rolls over just enough to look up at the man. The room holds a faint glow from the massive fish tank nearby, but he can still see that outside it must be dark.] Kukui? What time is it? 

LIIIIIE-EHHREGGHH!!!

Ilima:

[Sits up with a start at the inhuman cry shattering the night.] What was that?!

Kukui:

[Looks toward the window where the alien cry came from.] That's no Shadow. C'mon, let's get you out of here!

Ilima:

Me? What about you?!

Kukui:

Not now! [Grabs Ilima's damp trench coat and tosses it to him. Slips on his lab coat] Get all your stuff, and head for the basement. [Gives a sharp whistle which catches the attention of several Pokemon who'd been sleeping in places around the main floor. Pulls out a few Pokeballs to start recalling them and looks back at the kid.] Don't ask, just go! 

“To make a prison of these little islands… Do you really think I could be bound so easily?”

Ilima:

[Hesitates a moment at the top of the stairs and sees Kukui has frozen too. That voice… it came from within his mind as a slick hiss. He rushes down nonetheless, and follows the light of the computer screen at the end of the room where he crawls under the desk.] Kukui?! 

[With one last glance around the room, that should be everyone. A blinding light can be seen out the window. All of the windows, actually. It must have been gathering on the roof! Kukui makes his way down the stairs, skipping steps as he goes when suddenly there comes --a whistle, a howl, a screech!?-- some unholy noise pierces his ears. The surge of energy strikes with a deafening blast that nearly throws him the rest of the way down as he clings to the banister at the turn and debris flies past. As his eyes readjust, he could feel the rain now pouring in from the top of the steps and see the clouds overhead where a roof had once been. He shakes himself off and swiftly swings up the shelter door to bolt it before scurrying deeper into the now pitch black room.]

Kukui:

[Raspy as he tries to catch his breath] Hey! You… you okay?!

Ilima:

… [Holding his breath as the power shuts off and braces until the shaking stops. Hearing Kukui brings a wave of relief though and he holds up a small device to give them some light. Too small to see anything with but at least it could be useful for the moment.] Over here.

Kukui:

Good… good. [Takes a deep breath, his heart still hammering against his chest as he makes his way to the waving star-like light and plops down on the floor beside the desk.] Maybe we'll get lucky and he'll give up now. 

Ilima:

Him? [Slips the device back into an inner vest pocket, sealing them in the dark once more.] Then you heard that voice too? 

[The pair freeze again as they can hear the sound of sharp claws on the covering above them. The Beast must be trying to dig.*]

Ilima:

Somehow, I doubt he thinks we're dead.  

Kukui:

Won't be long before he finds the hole down here, yeah?

Ilima: 

[Crawls out of his hiding place and glares at the exit.] Joke's on him. We've got a full battalion down here at your command, I say we charge up those stairs and-

Kukui:

Put your fangs away and think for a moment. That thing just took out my house, what do you think it'd do to a Snubbull? 

Ilima:

[Mildly insulted, but mostly frustrated] We can't just sit here and wait for that, that… OUTSIDER to come down here-

Kukui:

Course we can't. [Gets up and turns the young agent around to look him straight in the face to make sure he hears this.] Ilima. That monster made it clear he's onto the plan. And if we go out fighting, who's gonna warn the others? I know you’re mad, I know you wanna prove yourself, but you came here on a mission, remember? 

Ilima:

[Sinks down a bit, letting out the pent up aggression with a sigh] We still need to get out of here first. I don't suppose you have some hidden tunnel or a flare gun or something we could use to put some distance between us.

[There comes another screech as a flash of light blasts out the door, letting the rain pour in again through the now open stairwell as dust shakes down from the ceiling. They needed to figure out something fast or the Beast would come down any second.] 

Kukui:

[Hesitates a moment as he hears the infernal screaming above them. A flare gun? Down here? No. Most of his field equipment had been kept in the upstairs closet. Only thing they could do really.] ...You listen to me. I'm gonna go out first, and while I've got it distracted, you run. 

Ilima:

As if that plan is any better than what I said!

Kukui:

[Slightly raising his voice] Don't be a Mudbray about this! I go. You run. Understand?

Ilima:

… … … [Softly though the mix of fear, sadness, and regret still peeks through] You know you'll never make it.

Kukui:

[Gives his shoulder a reassuring pat.] I know. But… I'm the one who dragged you into this, remember? Kinda surprised it didn't happen sooner. Now. Can you do this?

[Ilima softly agrees and the professor lets out a Ninetails at his side. The icy fox Pokemon charges up the steps with a greater ease and swiftness than Kukui can as he follows more steadily to avoid the splinters of wood that coated the damaged, wet stairway. Getting to the surface, from what he can see, it looks like a bomb had gone off as flickers of lightning showed the beach littered with the wreckage. He shoots a glare at the sky as the rain drenches his face, but he can see it. The creature glowing with Psychic energy as it floated high above him, seemingly waiting for them, as the shifting prismatic eyes shine all the more brightly as it glares back.]

Kukui:

We should have settled this a LONG time ago! [Raises a hand and gestures for it to come at him] Come on! If you're smart enough to try an ambush, why not challenge me!? You coward!

[The creature does lower itself to the ground, never taking its eyes off the man as it steps forward. Kukui slowly steps back, luring the armored figure toward the shore. It looks oddly human in a way, its hands too large and a black helmet obscuring its face, but it appears much smaller than Kukui could have ever imagined.]

“CHAAALLENGEEE?”

[Ilima makes his way deftly out of the basement to find Kukui wasn't exaggerating. True, the outside of the lab was being held by nails and duct tape, but his heart still stops a moment as he looks over the rubble. There was no time to think of how close that was when he could see the showdown happening mere feet away from him. He had to keep his promise. Carefully he crouches as he tries to creep some ways away before darting as fast as he can back towards Hau'oli City.

The monster still doesn't miss a beat as it turns to see the young man running. A shimmer of energy coats its frame again as it starts to rise, ready to fly after the fledgling agent when a blast of frigid air strikes it in the side! The Beast turns back to the fox that had shot it with a fiery gaze.]

Kukui:

Hey! We’re not done with you yet!

[As Ilima reaches the edge of the city, he feels he’s gotten far enough away to risk the flash of energy needed to call a Tauros from the Ride Pager. Dashing away. Fast as they can. Past the school... past the beach... sliding through the fenced shortcuts to get to the water. His ship was there in the port, if he could just…

The match didn't last long, just as Kukui expected. His first three teammates were down in what felt like three minutes and the armored fiend had barely taken a hit! Just as he goes for another, the Beast snarls at him again and flies at him with blinding speed! The momentum continues as it tackles the professor into the hard wet sand, its massive paw placed on his chest as the long steely claws rest on either side of his throat. Kukui struggles to breathe under the weight as he tries to punch the creature in the face, causing it to flinch as he hits something soft along the sharp edge of the mask. His fist stings, burning along the new gash as he tries instead to stretch helplessly for the stray Poke Ball that had landed just out of reach.]

[The creature gives a guttural growl at the man as its multicolored eyes turn a solid red. The voice comes with a hiss as it screams in the man's mind.] 

“I WILL NOT BE LOCKED AWAY AGAIN, DO YOU HEAR?!”

[A light starts to encompass Kukui, a shimmering golden aura that rises along the creature's arm and absorbs into its chest. Kukui stares with rising terror as the glow reveals the monster's face. He grips both hands on its arm, uselessly trying to pry the heavy black gauntlet off of him. To do anything if he could so much as breathe a command. After several long moments, the struggling ceases as the light fades and the red eyes return to their shifting prismatic glow. The beach grows dark.

The Beast rises from its feeding, somewhat calmer with the conspirator taken care of and it’s hunger momentarily satiated, and breathes in a sense of renewed clarity. There were more still out there. The agent who escaped, for one, but more. The lightning flashes again overhead as it moves from the limp foe to stare out at the sea to think. The biggest threat is still out there and coming close.]

~~~~~~~~~

A/N: I had a real internal debate on whether our monster should be able to speak or not, but overall I think this was probably the best of the original four parts of the series I did before doubts set in. Necrozma is nothing if not hungry, paranoid, and petty.

Archive

[foreveranevilregal]

13 with Felix and Pepa if you're feeling a little angsty? If not totally fine!

Send me a prompt.

Yeah, I'll do angst for these two that doesn't involve separating them. Warning for grieving, depression, not eating.

This is why we don't talk about Bruno.

13. "I thought you were dead."

When Bruno first disappeared, Pepa didn’t react. There was nothing to worry about, she said. He would sometimes hole up in his tower for days at a time. It wasn’t that unusual for him to “disappear”. He would come out sooner or later

After a few days had passed, Pepa began to get angry. It wasn’t funny anymore, Bruno. Come out of your stupid tower already. She would pound on the door, hoping her brother could hear the rattling that shook the house. Thunder heralded her wherever she went.

Days stretched into a week, then two. Now Pepa was worried. What if something had happened to Bruno? He had never gone so long without seeing anyone else. Wind swirled around her, picking up as she kept muttering and pacing, casting anxious glances toward his door; the glowing image of him a meager source of comfort.

And then the door went dark.

She had witnessed it happen. For a while now, she had camped out in front of his door, hoping to catch him sneaking out at night (he’d always been more of a night person, like her) and give him a piece of her mind. And a crushing hug. She hadn’t decided in which order yet. But instead of Bruno emerging from his tower, his door went out.

Pepa wasn’t stupid. Someone’s door going out could only mean one thing.

Bruno was gone.

The shock of it was too great for her at first. An oppressive haze blanketed the encanto as she struggled to fight her way out of her own clouded mind.

And then the winds started. Bruno couldn’t be gone, how could Bruno be gone, what could possibly have happened to him, did he leave, did he run away, was he…

No.

She couldn’t bring herself to finish the last question.

Wind gave way to rain; the encanto battered by torrential storms that flooded the river and soaked the fields. Farmers complained about their crops being ruined due to the unpredicted precipitation, but they knew better than to say anything about it to Pepa. As soon as a member of the Madrigal family approached, their bitter muttering dried up the same way they wished their fields would.

It rained for days. The whole encanto was now curtained off by a steady downpour. Forget the crops- the town itself was falling apart. Hard dirt roads turned to mud, squelching under alpargatas and cartwheels. Buildings began to sink, their foundations eroded away.

And as for Pepa? If the town was falling apart, she was already gone. Not wanting her family to witness her nonstop sobbing, she had locked herself up in her room and refused to come out. Her doorknob zapped anyone who tried to enter.

She stayed sequestered for three days. The rain lifted somewhat, with her room doing what it could to dampen her powers. But as the various Madrigals who took turns standing vigil outside her door could attest, the rain had not stopped inside her room. Fortunately almost everything in there was waterproof. Casita had really thought of everything. Plus she knew better than to keep anything too delicate in there.

Three days. She locked herself away for three days as the storm raged on.

And then everything stopped.

As suddenly as it began, the rain ended. The clouds parted, revealing strips of bright blue sky. The wind stopped howling. Everything was unnaturally calm.

Of course, Félix wasn’t stupid either. If Pepa’s weather had turned off so abruptly…well, there could only be one explanation.

He’d stood in wait for three days; calling out to her until he grew hoarse, hoping she’d come out, or at least let them in. Though they all took turns, he was there the most. Not only did he miss his wife, but he worried about her. She hadn’t eaten anything for as long as she’d been in her self-imposed exile. And so, he brought up food, every single bit cooked by Julieta, imbued with her healing power, hoping against hope that this time the food would make it inside the room. That this time, he wouldn’t bring yet another full plate of cold food back to the kitchen; to Julieta, who had barely slept and had pronounced dark circles under her eyes.

Three days. He did this for three days, his confidence waning all the while. After day one, he was sure she’d succumb to hunger. After day two, he began to have his doubts. And after day three…

After day three, everything went silent.   

He could no longer hear the rain falling inside her room. Nor could he hear her muffled sobs. The silence suffocated him. His mind filled the new emptiness with a litany of worries, fears, prayers, screams…

He was screaming. He was screaming out loud after losing the last sure signs he had that Pepa was still here. That she hadn’t left them. With an anguished roar, he twisted the doorknob violently and shoved the door in, prepared to see the worst.

There Pepa was. Her big green eyes were wide open, unblinking, staring blankly ahead. The circles under them could put Julieta’s to shame. Her curls hung limply around her face. There was absolutely no expression on her face. A blanket was draped over her like an afterthought. The only indication Félix had that she was still alive was the steady rise and fall of her chest.

Relieved, he ran inside, sloshing hot soup on himself, not even caring how much it burned because Pepa was alive, she was alive! He really had expected to see her… No, he couldn’t bring himself to say it. But she was here, looking worse for the wear, but still with them!

He set the bowl down on the nightstand and lay down next to Pepa. His hands went to her face, feeling her, before moving on to her hair, her arm; his thumb tracing down her forearm to where he could feel her pulse beating. For a few minutes, all he did was touch her, reassuring himself that she was really still here. Tears spilled down his face as the sheer relief of still having her consumed him.

She was still as stone, not reacting to his presence in the slightest.

Eventually, he stopped shaking and managed to string together, “I thought you were dead.” And saying it out loud made it feel so much worse, so much more real, that he could easily have walked in and seen her lifeless body on the bed instead of his Pepa- the strong, fierce woman who loved her family with every fiber of her being; who would kill for them, would fight for them.

She’d fought for him. She hadn’t given up and left.

Not getting a response from her, he continued. “I was so worried, Pepa. We hadn’t seen you in three days. You haven’t eaten anything in three days.” Her unresponsiveness was beginning to fray his nerves. “I thought you were dead,” he repeated, gripping her shoulders tightly. She was so bony and frail he was afraid he’d snap her in half. Taking a deep breath, he said more calmly, “Julieta made ajiaco.” He gestured to the steaming bowl on the nightstand. “Your favorite.”

She made no attempt to move, continuing to stare straight ahead.

“Pepa, you have to eat something. It’s been three days.”

“Not hungry.” The words were barely a whisper, her voice raspy from disuse.

“How can you not be hungry when you haven’t eaten anything in so long?”

“I’m just not hungry.” She shrugged weakly.

“One bite, Pepa, for me. Your loving husband.” He scooped up some of the soup on the spoon and held it to her mouth.

Her lips parted just enough to accept the spoon. She chewed listlessly, with no real interest in breaking down any of the food, but it had gotten into her mouth.

Félix sighed in relief. He loaded up another spoonful, blowing on the hot soup before bringing it up to her again. “Come on, Pepa. Please.”

“You said one bite.” The statement lacked any sort of emotion.

“Please, Pepa, you have to eat.”

Silence.

He wheedled and pleaded and begged, only to be met with varying degrees of indifference. An awful idea sprang into his head. Félix hated stooping so low, but it seemed like the only thing that could work. “Do you think this is what Bruno would want?”

Anger flashed in her eyes. It was the first display of emotion she had given him. “Don’t talk about Bruno,” she warned lowly. “He’s gone.”

“He wouldn’t want you doing this.”

“How the hell do you know what he would want?” Pepa’s voice rose. “How do any of us know what he would want, when he abandoned the family, abandoned all of us-“

“Abandoned you?” Félix asked softly.

Pepa burst into tears. The dam that had been holding back her grief had broken.

Félix wrapped her up in his arms, holding her as she sobbed. He didn’t even mind the rain splashing down on them, not when he’d seen how much worse the alternative was. He didn’t say anything. All he did was hold her until she had wrung out every last tear.

“I know it’s hard,” he said, rocking her gently in his arms. “We all miss him. I understand.”

“You don’t understand,” Pepa sniffled, wiping snot off her face. “You don’t understand at all.”

“When you locked yourself in here and I thought you were, you were-” His voice faltered. “I didn’t know if I could keep going. If I’d come in and you were…gone.”

She ignored his confession. “He’s actually gone.”

“But the rest of us are still here.” Félix tried for a winning smile. “I’m here, mi amor.” He gently brushed her hair out of her face.

Pepa turned to face him, her face streaked with tears. “Félix,” she began, taking his hand in hers, “you are my whole heart. But B- he, was like a part of me. We were together our entire lives. Ever since we were babies, we went through everything together. And now he’s gone. It feels like part of me went with him.”

Félix hummed, not quite sure he understood what she was saying, but clearly it was hitting her much harder than it did the rest of them. Even Julieta. “I’m sorry,” he said, knowing the words sounded trite.

“I see him in my sleep,” she whispered. “I have…dreams.” She shuddered.

She didn’t elaborate, but that explained the circles under her eyes. Félix would ask Julieta for a sedative later, so Pepa could rest. Right now, she still needed to eat. “You have to keep eating.”

“I don’t have to do anything.” An endearing petulance laced her words.

Félix was thrilled she was showing an interest in anything, even if it was arguing with him. Yet she still had to eat. “Pepa, would you rather eat this soup willingly, or I tell Julieta and she force feed you?”

Pepa’s eyes widened. “Please, God, no; she’ll cram that spoon into my skull.” She tried to pick up the spoon, but her hand was trembling. It clattered back into the bowl.

“Let me.” Félix took the spoon, feeding her bit by bit, pausing as she chewed. Julieta had warned him that if she finally felt up to eating she might not be able to get much food down, but little by little, she downed the whole bowl. Satisfied, he set down the bowl and cradled her in his arms.

“I miss him,” she murmured, her eyes drooping. “I miss him so much it feels like there’s a hole in my heart.”

“I know, mi vida,” Félix soothed, swaying her back and forth, lulling her into sleep. “Get some rest.”

“Don’t want to sleep.” She struggled to keep her eyes open. “I’ll see him again and wake up.”

“I’ll be right here next to you,” Félix promised. He knew she always slept better when he was there.

Pepa kept fighting sleep, chanting “I miss him, I miss him, I miss him,” like it was the prayer that would bring him back. She fought it until she couldn’t fight anymore, succumbing to her need for rest.

Félix didn’t dare move, letting her use him as a pillow as she finally slept. He stayed completely still until she awoke, fourteen hours later.

[inkedtae]

a lover’s howl ⇾ kth. [M]

⟶ inspired by Howl’s Moving Castle and part of The Ghibli Series

⌁ pairing; howl!taehyung x reader (f.)

⌁ genre/rating; studio ghibli au, howl’s moving castle au, smut, a dash of fluff, a bit of angst, 18+

⌁ summary; an unforsaken spell blesses you with his presence again

⌁ word count; 4.1k

⌁ warnings; howl!taehyung, blonde!taehyung, bigdicc!taehyung, dom!taehyung, sub!reader, unprotected sex, rough sex, praise kink, dirty talk, oral (f. receiving), fingering, body worshipping, basically a moving amount of filth~ 

⚘ happy birthday juno ♡ (@onherwings​)~ 

⚘ a huge thanks to my beta readers, @kkulmoon​, @nottodayjjk​ and @uhgood-dooghu​, for taking the time to read this over and fix it up for me. it means a lot and i don’t think i will ever be able to thank you enough. also a special thanks @yeoldontknow​ for letting me talk at her, giving me ideas and always supporting me. I owe this fic being finished on time to you. 

The rumble of the train trembles the walls of your workshop. Black fumes cloud the moonlight. Your candles flicker atop your desk, threatening to diminish and leave you sewing in the dark. Weaving feathers in and out of a black hat, you’re too preoccupied with thoughts of him to be fazed by the sound. He writes often, enclosing a black feather with every letter, but doesn’t visit as much. You’re not sure what of this “important business” is so dangerous that you can’t come along as well. You have survived much worse, witnessed his near death and helped him rebuild his castle afterall. And though you told yourself countless times that there’s no good dwelling on the past, you can’t seem to stop wondering what exactly changed his mind. 

A prick of your thumb stings you out of your thoughts. In a jolt, you drop the needle and hat to shoot out of your seat with a hiss. You lick the wound before it bleeds then press your fingertip upon it. You hope the pressure subsides the wound long enough for you to fetch a bandage from the first aid kit. 

Now, where did Taehyung say it was? Something about a library... or was it a living room? You make your way up to the attic, hoping he did in fact mention the library. All you can really remember from that conversation was how handsome he looked in that pink coat you stitched up for him. It just frames his broad shoulder so well only to narrow around his thin waist. And then there was that knowing look in his eyes that told you he knew just how much you weren’t listening at all. 

“Baby,” he had whispered, cupping your chin. “Are you listening?” And once you had found the mental capacity to resist the urge to kiss him and slowly nod, he had smirked and repeated, “The kit is in-”

The library flickers to life when you enter. Dust settles upon every inch and you begin to wonder why he had forbade you from entering before as you scan the shelves for the kit. Leather bound books and tightly rolled scrolls reside on every surface. Trinkets of his journey clutter around as well. You had thought you talked to him about the importance of organization, but it seems that he prefers this mess best. 

Your attention settles on the desk, sitting in front of a large window. Presuming it’s probably in one of the desk drawers, you make your way over with the intention of rifling through them and nothing more. You’ve learned from past experience that it’s best to never tinker with his things. However, once you stand before it, a red, leather bound book catches your eye. The imprinted title is written in an unreadable script and seems to be floating off the cover. How could that dance off the surface like that? Against your better judgement, curiosity hovers your fingers over the font.

Slamming open, the book flips and flicks through various pages only to suddenly stop. Rose coloured font apperates into view in that unreadable script again. You furrow your brows, attempting to read it anyways, until the strokes of ink shift around the pages. They rearrange themselves into a script you can decipher. 

A Lover’s Howl. 

Yearning of heart and 

Tethers of soul.

I wish to end my misery

And the distance apart

Together unruly and-

The tremors of the train erupt every wall of the attic, pulling you out of your thoughts. Startled, you glance out the window to find that it is not the train at all you owe this rukkus to, but the upset clouds. Flashes of lightning burn the sky alight as rain beats down the busy street. 

You turn back to the desk and shut the book. That’s enough snooping for a night. You still have that first aid kit to find. Rummage through the drawers, you finally find a little tin of bandages under a box of rose and emerald ink pots. Teeth between the thin paper, you rip open the little bandage and wrap it around your thumb. However, it seems like once one wound is taken care of, another flames. 

Aching, your heart sits heavy in your chest. You take a deep breath, hands too shaky to return the kit back beneath the ink pots. The action seems to push the numb pain to your gut. A little whimper escapes you. You lean on the edge of the desk, inhaling sharply. You’re still breathing, you try to remind yourself. And that should be a comforting fact if your pussy didn’t begin aching as well. With a shaky gasp, you press your thighs together and wonder why the thought of being bent over this very desk seems to be unfathomably appealing right now. 

Your fingers hover over the pearl buttons of your dress; it suddenly seems awfully tight in this hot room. Wait- when did the room get so ho- “Agh,” you whine as another pang of pain makes you needier. 

The newfound heat suffocates skin, hands moving fast to push that blue dress off your shoulders. It doesn’t hit the ground before you start to discard your bra and panties as well. Still, your body burns with a desire to be overtaken. It’s as if you’ve been edged all day, left half finished and ready to finally unravel. Desperate to feel just that, you slide a hand down to your aching pussy. It clenches emptily, yearning for Taehyung's huge cock. God, it’s been too long since he last stretched you out. Nothing can ever quite compare to his size, your fingers and vibrator a weak excuse for anything besides clitoral pleasure.

Rubbing at your clit, you try to soothe the craving for him now. However, the pain only seems to intensify. It’s as if your body knows it’s not your own hand you crave, but Taehyung’s. And where is he now to graze your folds between his fingers and tease with little praises? You can just see him peeking up from between your legs, tongue poking out of his lips and breath fanning over your heat. And you’d push yourself up into him. So, he’d smirk and chuckle, and tell you to be patient or he won’t do anything at all. You can even hear him now, taunting at your desperate, half-naked state in the very section of the house he told you to never enter. 

“What did I say about looking through my things?” 

Hand cupping your heat, your attention snaps to the door. Taehyung leans against the doorframe, the candlelight sculpting his features sharply. His name leaves you in a whisper as you begin to wonder how desperate you are to have resorted to hallucinations? Maybe you should really call him if your mind’s gone this far. But, as you attempt to move around the desk, another shot of pain holds you back. You gasp a quiet cry and harshly rub circles around your clit. 

Concern colours Taehyung’s features. “Sweetheart,” he calls, rushing over to you. You’re about to pride your mind on such a vivid and accurate imagination when you feel his large hands settle on your arms. Soft and cold, he holds you tight and guides your hunched over frame onto the desk. Shrugging his coat off, he drapes it over your shoulders and asks, “What’ve you done to yourself?” 

“You’re here?” 

“I’m here,” he smiles. 

A breathless chuckle bubbles out of you as your hands wrap around his neck. Your arousal slicked hands stain his shirt, but he doesn’t seem to mind, pulling you into a tighter hug. “You shouldn’t have come in here,” he mutters between peppering little kisses in the crook of your neck. 

His vanilla cedar scent coddles your heart and aches your bones. You whimper into his shoulder at how quickly the pain intensifies from a single whiff. Taehyung pulls half an inch away, concerned and confused. With his forehead resting against yours, he licks his lips and you can’t think of a better use for that tongue if not to lick at your pussy. The pain shoots at you again just as your thoughts become interesting. You swallow your whimpers as he brushes your hair out of your face.

His gaze falls to your bare chest before lingering around your pussy. Suddenly aware of your nakedness, you shyly press your thighs together. Every inch of you just wants to beg him for his cock already, no matter if you're bent on his desk or pressed against the window. You just need him on you, in you, touching every part of you. 

The courage to ask for what you want finally presents itself when he shifts his gaze to something behind you. You sneak a glance over your shoulder to find that open book. A little sigh escapes him and he returns his attention to you with a little smirk. “You missed me this much,” he teases, caressing your cheek, “that you just had to cast a mating spell, hmm?” 

Is that what that was? You weren’t even sure you could read it before it rearranged. You’re about to apologize when the pain cinches your words in your throat. Doubling over, you rest your head against his shoulder and whine, “Ah, Tae!” 

He wraps his arms around you, further engulfing you in his scent and you don’t think you can take much more of this. Whatever this mating spell is, you’re sure it’s not supposed to be tearing you apart. Clutching on the collar of his shirt, you mumble, “I need you, Tae. I need your mouth and fingers and- I just need you so bad.” 

You wish you can say you hate the way his eyes glisten with power. If you didn’t know any better, you’d think he knew exactly how you were feeling and was just waiting for you to say it. He’s told you before that the sight of you so needy always awakes something dark within him. He loves to watch you whine and quiver. 

His hold on your face tightens as his fingers dig into your skin. You swallow thickly, another whine escaping from the mere thought of those fingers deep in you. He licks his lips before asking, “What do you need me to do so bad, sweetheart?” 

He trails his fingers down your neck, past your collarbone and the valley of your breasts; waiting, watching. When all you can muster is his name in a little mewl, he whispers, peppermint breath fanning over your face, “Do you want to start on your knees?” 

“Anything,” you gasp, tugging on his shirt. You just need him close, need him now. “We can do it anyway you want, just please fuck me already.” 

Surprise alights his eyes for a moment. Never have you spoken this crassly, without his cock already deep in you that is. He chuckles, on the verge of teasing you about it when another pained whimper escapes you. Taehyung settles his large hands on your thighs. Leaning in, he brushes his nose against yours then places a soft kiss upon the corner of your lips. “I know it hurts, sweetheart, but I can’t do much if you don’t tell me exactly what you want.” 

You pause for a moment, wondering how much clearer you could be. Usually, a declaration to be riled is enough to set him off. You’re never the one guiding him as he always insists on guiding you. He says it's because he loves how obedient you suddenly become when his dick is involved. And though you have tried to fight him on it in the past, there’s not much you can deny now. So, you bite back a whine until you have enough strength to order just above a whisper, “I need your mouth, Tae. You’re fingers too. Honestly, anything will do just as long as you're tasting me.” 

He bites back a chuckle as he lowers himself to his knees. Spreading your legs, he urges you to lean back a bit. The gesture pushes a variety of books and pens to the floor. Neither of you can be too bothered, however, with his face inches away from your pussy. 

Holding your gaze, Taehyung dives in. You expect him to lick a long strip up your pussy to start, as he always does, only to have him suction his lips around your clit. Either way, you’re sure the pain withers away. A relieved gasp echoes in the small room as you throw your head back. You can barely even feel the previous ache when he releases your clit to lap up your wetness. All you can focus on is how you missed his warm tongue. 

“Oh fuck, just like that,” you moan, eyes fluttering shut. Your hips roll up to meet his tongue, body craving more of him. 

“Keep talking to me, baby,” he mutters around a mouthful of pussy. “How fast do you want it?”

You run a hand through his hair and hold on tight. “Fast!” Taehyung groans against you, making your heart flutter enough for you to forget what more you wanted to say. Until a small ache pokes at your gut again. With a whine, you reply, “I need your fingers. I need you to shove them in me and lick me and make me cum. Fuck, Tae, just please make me cum.” 

Taehyung circles two fingers around your tight, little hole, muttering, “About time you remembered your manners.” 

Not much strength lives in you to tell him that you’ll remember your manners when he finally lets you come along with him to whatever “important business” that’s taken him this long. And even if you could speak, all you can really think about is how you missed his fucking fingers. So long and slender, they slide into you so far and curl just right.The pain dissipates and you throw your head back with a loud moan. You’re not sure what this spell was, but you’re thankful for it if it means bringing Taehyung back home. 

You attempt to ride his face again only to have him remove his lips. He smirks up at you, amused gaze peeking through his blonde bangs. His fingers quicken and bash just where you need them.

“Taehyung,” you sigh. Voice breathless, strained with the return of that painful, greedy desire to unravel, you whine, “I need your mouth.” 

He chuckles. You shudder. Has he been gone so long that you’ve genuinely forgotten just how much you adored that laugh? You’ve never been able to process the duality of it, the cheerful tone sounding so deep and dark.

“And what do you want me to do about that?” 

Oh, right. The spell. It only seems to let him follow your orders. You make a mental note to tease him about it later, the gnawing ache of your gut begging to be eased. Still, under your breath, you mumble, “Must I hold your hand through this?”

Taehyung clenches his jaw. His eyes blink cold, hard and darken into vexation. If he could, he’d smack your pussy, bend you over for a spanking only to edge you thrice before finally letting you cum. At least, that’s what he did the last time you talked back. Instead, he resorts to glares and little reminders to “behave” since “the spell will break before the night is over.” 

You shiver with every moan as you sit up. A few more scrolls roll to the ground from the shift of your position, but you pay them no mind. As the thunder roars beyond the little library, you cup Taehyung’s wet smeared chin and guide him back onto his feet. 

“All I can ever think about,” you start, attempting to speak through your moans, “is all the time lost not getting fucked in that moving castle.” 

“It’s d-”

“Dangerous,” you finish. “More dangerous than a mating spell? Than this stupid libr- fuck, I think I’m close.” You fall forward to rest your head against his shoulders. Taehyung scoffs and you don’t need to glance at his handsome face to know he’s smirking. You can hear it. 

Hand shooting to his wrist, you stop his fingers mid-thrust. The spell’s pain lingers around your pussy, tightening your walls around him. It threatens its return as your orgasm slowly disappears. He whispers your name, but you only meet his gaze when you’ve bitten every needy whine back long enough to say, “I just want you to fuck me like you want me.” 

“What makes you think I don’t want you?”

A little whine slips past your lips. Taehyung’s expression softens and he shifts in place, likely feeling helpless when you don’t allow him to ease the ache. “You left, Tae,” you sigh. “You left me here. I want you to fuck me like you never did. I want you to replace your fingers with your cock and touch me like you love me.”

Taehyung pauses. “You think I don’t love you?” 

Though the answer is on the tip of your tongue, you know better than to tell him it now. Taehyung is no fun to fuck when he’s genuinealy upset. And if you are going to be rid of this unforsaken curse, you know that you’ll need to keep the rest of your thoughts to yourself. So you let go of his wrist and the spell compels his actions once more. 

Taehyung removes his fingers then rids himself of his clothes. You can’t seem to keep your hands from wandering over his chest and clutching onto his shoulders. He smiles at you and, though it’s small, that smile of his makes you wonder if perhaps you’ve ruined the entire mood and now he’ll only fuck you because he wants simply to help. 

Then he seizes your hips. You’re pulled forward until the length of his cock presses between your folds. He strokes his nose along your cheek, wet lips whispering, “I think the real issue is how you have trouble following orders.” Rolling his hips against yours, Taehyung groans into the crook of your neck. “It looks like I have to show you how it’s done.” 

You lose your fingers in his hair, clutching onto his bicep with your other hand. You missed how much he loved to tease. Lips biting into your collarbone, Taehyung reaches a hand between your bodies to align himself. A gentle push in and you’re exchanging praises. He’s definitely been gone too long if you’ve forgotten just how big he is. His mere tip stretches you enough to lose all words, incoherent affirmations taking their place instead. Eyes rolling back, you thrust up to try meeting his hips halfway, but Taehyung grounds you in place. 

A specific speed never left your lips and you just now realized that fast is in fact Taehyung’s default setting when it comes to fucking you into submission. All the pain you thought was returning feels as though it never arrived at all. You’re about to tell him to thrust harder when he clutches onto your neck. 

He stares into your desperate eyes, his own looking needier than usual - a fact he has never enjoyed admitting. “Do you know how many times I almost used this fucking spell?” he hisses as his thrusts become harsher. “Every night, I stare at that fucking page and think about how pretty you’d look when you’re full of my cock.” He growls a curse under his breath. The hand around your neck tightens just to let go. As it trails down your body to cup one of your bouncing breasts, he groans, “You look even more beautiful when you’re desperate for it. Did you know that?”

You let out a shaky moan. Hands sweaty, you try to maintain your grip on his shoulders as he plays with your body like a passtime. He thumbs your nipple, gazing down at how you arch your back and push yourself further against him. Breathless from the sheer sight, he picks up his pace. The desk scratches at the floor with every thrust. Your moans drown its sharp creaks as Taehyung buries his face between your breasts. Licking and biting, he feasts on you like he never left, like he does this every night and still can’t believe he has you. 

Cradling his head closer, you feel that once painful ache in your gut tighten, twist and slowly begin to beg for a chance to release. And you know he can feel you inching closer as well, little praises pouring out of him between his appreciation of your chest. 

“That’s my girl,” he rasps. “Taking my cock so well.” 

True, you’re annoyed it took a fucking spell to bring him back, but you’d be lying if his insistence of you being such a good girl didn’t just replace all your anger with affection. “Taehyung!” you cry. 

You’re about to ask for permission when you recall the fickle detail that you are the one calling the shots this time. Even still, you try to subside your urge to cum long enough to ask, “I-it’s okay to cum, right?” 

Taehyung laughs against your skin. He trails quick kisses back up to your lips, only to mutter moments later, much to your constant whining, “You don’t need to ask this time, sweetheart.” 

Like being doused with cold water, you allow yourself to come undone. Fingers digging into his skin, eyes rolling back, you scream out his name over and over again with the rhythm of his hips. Every new thrust adds to the quaking of your body. It breaks in your voice as you cry out for him. 

“Does that feel better?” he teases, voice husky and strained. If that isn’t enough indication that he’s close, the little twitch of his cock gives it away. “Is my dick enough or do you want me to cum too?” 

Nails imprinting into his skin, you try to meet his gaze. “If you don’t cum in me right now,” you start, breathless and desperate, “I swear I’ll cry.” 

Taehyung nudges his nose against yours before pressing his lips to yours. He lets you swallow all his moans as he pulls you close by your ass and holds you tight. Then, he bites your lip and fills you until you’re stuffed with more than just his giant cock.

A few more rushed kisses and sloppy thrusts are offered before Taehyung ceases all movement. He rests his head on your shoulder, fingers still sunk into the curves of your ass. Sweaty, heaving exhaustion overwhelms your senses. Pussy pulsing, you find that the longer Taehyung remains in you, the more twinges of that pain return. You know you should tell him that, only you’re worried that he’d go the moment he pulls out. He has served the purpose of the spell after all. 

Taehyung stands straighter now that his breath has returned to him. He shifts his hands from your ass to your hips and gently pulls out. A hiss escapes him. You feel empty all over again. 

Crossing your legs, you softly push his hands off your hips. It might just be best to make this easier on both of you, you wonder, and give him a chance to go. Maybe that way it won’t feel as though he’s abandoning you. 

“I guess you have to get back then,” you say as you hop off the desk. 

You both know he can sense your discomfort. “I can stay for a little while.”

Grabbing your dress off the ground, you ignore the emotion in his words. “Lucky me,” you mutter, turning back to find him inches away. 

Eyes locked, Taehyung maintains his sincerity. He tentatively wraps his arms around your waist and, when you don’t interject, presses you against his chest. “I’m- I-” he stutters for a moment before the words come together once more. “I thought leaving alone would be the safest. I didn’t think it would take this long.”

You shake your head. He’s missing the point. It shouldn’t take a spell to compel him to return. He shouldn’t have left you alone. “It shouldn’t matter how long it takes. I should always be there.” 

Taehyung falls silent. Guilt flashes in his eyes as he reverts them to the floor. Swallowing thickly, he meets your gaze again to mutter, “I just can’t risk losing you again.” 

“Then don’t leave me alone,” you whisper. 

Taehyung pulls you into a warm hug. A tearful apology is mumbled into your shoulder. You’re not very interested in it though. All you want is him; with or without a lover’s howl. 

note; please do not leave hate towards me or any other readers. please do not copy, repost, or translate any of my work without my permission.

[targaryenimagines]

Just Wait

Daenerys Targaryen x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 1,989

Summary:

Notes: I hope this is all right. 

Dialogue Prompt:  “Try and stay calm, okay? Help is coming.”

The wind was howling through the air. Snow whipping past your face and obscuring your view. All that you could see were the elegant spikes of Rhaegal’s neck. The pebbled scales being the only comfort to your numbing hands. You wince as the winds howls were intersected by the wails of the damned. Glowing blue eyes appearing before your eyes as you blinked. 

Glancing down, you could see nothing but the unending swirl of white in the pitch blackness. 

How many of your friends had already perished below you? 

How many would you never see again? 

How many would you never be able to properly bury?

The questions only cause the growing pit in your stomach to become that much larger. Your hands clench around Rhaegal’s spike. Trying your best to keep your breath steady as he took another sharp turn. Your body pressing against his neck in order to stay upright. Squinting doing little to alleviate the temporary blindness the action caused. 

Craning your neck, you look up in hopes that the moon would be able to guide you to where you needed to be. You were only met by even more suffocating darkness-- even the clouds having lost their glow. Curses fall from your lips as you angle Rhaegal down into another dive. Getting too close to the ground could prove to be fatal but you had no choice; images of Viserion’s lifeless body falling from the sky comes unbidden to your mind at the thought. Your heart breaking all over again as you remember his pain-filled cry. How Rhaegal had echoed it as you both tried to desperately save him. Your gentle boy being swallowed by ice and snow; only to be awakened by the very thing that had cursed him. 

You hadn’t seen Viserion yet but you had heard his roars. The once gentle and calming sound turned ragged. A mournful howl for everything that was lost and that had to continue to be. In the same manner, you hadn’t seen Drogon or Daenerys since the battle had begun. Both you and Rhaegal taking to the outside defenses to make sure there wouldn’t be any stragglers. Even now you couldn’t hear the sounds of Drogon’s mighty roars or the cries of battle. 

You and Rhaegal were completely alone. In the ghost filled sky that promised nothing but despair when it used to offer nothing but freedom. 

That is until a sharp cry from above you caused every hair on your body to stand on end. Your head snapping up towards the sound, even as you made Rhaegal dive to the side, and nothing could have prepared you for the sight of seeing Viserion. 

Nothing could have prepared you for the sight of seeing him so broken. His scales, once so vibrant, turned ashen and lifeless. 

His gentle face devoid of any emotion except for the mind-numbing coldness that seemed to be in constant supply in the North. 

Once golden eyes, that always reminded you of the sun, turned blue. Fire turning to ice. 

The only thing rivalling the horror you felt at seeing Viserion in such a state was seeing the thing that was riding him. The Night King’s cold eyes were watching your every movement as Rhaegal dipped lower and lower in the sky. Your attention diverted from his icy gaze towards Rhaegal as his wings narrowly escaped the tree tops. His body jolts as he tries to avoid the imminent collision. 

With your mouth pressed into a line, you force yourself to relax and remember everything you had learned over the years with Rhaegal. Every minute movement of his body and what that told you. Even if the Night King could control Viserion, he would never be able to fly like you could. You just had to get to Daenerys, to Drogon, and everything would be fine. 

Chancing one last glance towards him, you couldn’t help the sardonic smirk that pulled at your lips. “If you want me you’ll have to catch me you sick bastard.”

-----

In retrospect, taunting the Night King wasn’t the smartest plan. While you had the advantage of experience atop dragons. He held the advantage when it came being able to see where you were going. Which, in the grand scheme of things, was a very useful tool to have. 

As it wouldn’t be the first, or second, time you had almost slammed into something as you made your back towards Winterfell.

“How did we get so far out?” You hiss as you, yet again, dip Rhaegal into a dive to avoid Viserion’s talons. His disjointed shriek causes the hairs on the back of your neck to stand on end. You didn’t remember flying this far out from Winterfell but as each moment ticked by you could tell that you had somehow gotten turned around. We were only supposed to be a few minutes out at most. How did this happen?

Feeling the sudden breeze of air on your head, causes you to duck. Your head almost collided with Rhaegal’s neck as Viserion made another dive towards you. Feeling the slick feeling of liquid running down your neck, you raise your hand to the base of it. Letting loose a soft hiss as a sharp stab of pain is the response your body gives to the prodding. You know you didn’t have to look at your fingers to see that your glove was stained red. 

Catching sight of the beacon fires almost causes you to sob in relief. Your eyes welling up at the brilliant sight of light after spending so long in near darkness. The sounds of battle resounding out towards you like a choir. 

“Only a bit longer, Rhaegal,” you murmur against his neck. Feeling the way his breaths had gotten deeper. You don’t know how much longer he would be able to last if the pace continued like this. The constant bobbing and weaving through frozen air. Squeezing your eyes shut, you send a silent prayer to R’hllor to get you through this-- to get Rhaegal through this. “You’re doing so well. Just a bit longer and I promise you’ll be able to rest.”

Only a small snort was your response. The reaction caused a small smile to quirk your lips despite the situation you were in. His tenacious spirit hadn’t dimmed in the slightest even as his energy was so clearly waned. That’s my boy. 

Angling Rhaegal into a steep dive, you make your descent towards Winterfell. Your eyes desperately searching for Daenerys. Your breath catching when you finally caught sight of Drogon’s familiar form. His looming black shadow shifting over the battlefield as he and Daenerys dealt with the Wights. The Unsullied fight valiantly underneath their Khaleesi. You think you could even see Jorah shifting about with Jon Snow’s direwolf-- Ghost. 

Viserion’s sharp cry causes you to wince. Your head is already bowing as you twist Rhaegal into the opposite direction. Hoping that you would be able to be fast enough but you hadn’t reacted fast enough. Not as you felt Viserion slam into Rhaegal and press you down against his back. Your breath escaping you in a harsh exhale as Rhaegal tried desperately to free himself. His angry shrieks like daggers through your heart. 

Knowing that there was little else you could do; not when you and Rhaegal were so tired. You call for Daenerys-- hoping that your dragon would be able to get to you. Your eyes search for her violet as you begin your descent towards the snow covered ground. 

“Daenerys.”

------

“Daenerys.”

The sound of her name ripped through the air. Louder than any scream from the undead below her. Louder than any cry of the dying that would forever echo in her head. Louder than even Drogon was at his angriest. 

Her head snapping up in the direction the scream, no plea, had originated from. Her own beginning to form when she saw her mate and son in a spiral. She had known that Viserion was a slave of the Night King’s now but she had never truly prepared herself to see him. 

She had never thought it would be when he was clutching onto Rhaegal’s back. His talons like anchors against Rhaegal’s green hide. Rivulets of red already became obvious as her son struggled to break free. Struggled to protect his mother, his rider, from harm. She could even see your face from here. See the pain that was so clearly etched across your beautiful features. The blood that was becoming apparent through the stark white of your cloak. 

It was a sight that forced her into action. Nudging, Drogon in your direction as fast as he was able to go. Her heart hammering in her chest as Rhaegal let loose another cry of pain. As Viserion echoed it back with one of his own demented shrieks. Her two boys, that were closer than even she could comprehend, enemies because of the vileness that Westeros held. It brought tears to her eyes as Drogon finally got a hold of Viserion. His much larger form easily being able to overpower his brother. Claws ripping and tearing through brittle hide as he was tossed to the side. Little decorum being shown for what used to be his brother. 

Glancing down, Daenerys’s heart almost stops at the sight of Rhaegal’s still plummeting form. His wings weakly trying to keep him afloat but nothing would be able to stop his descent. She could see the wounds in his wings and the way his head was drooping which each second ticked by. Angling Drogon into a dive, Daenerys does everything she can to stop his descent. To stop him from hitting the ground but it was all in vain. 

Her widened gaze watching as Rhaegal was weakly able to run across the surface before crashing down completely. The form of his rider being thrown from his body into a heap on the icy landscape. 

Not thinking of much else, Daenerys jumps off of Drogon the moment his feet make contact with land. Her hand ran against Rhaegal’s neck in a quick search to make sure he was all right; relieved when she felt his heavy breathing through her glove. His steady warmth is still there despite everything.

With that task accomplished, she makes her way over towards the form of her mate. Her knees hitting the ground with preamble and she brought you into her arms. A worried gaze taking in every bruise and scrape that made up the expanse of your skin. Blood trickling down slowly from open wounds that didn’t look to be too deep. A relieved sob leaving her lips when she notices your breathing; while shallow it was something. 

Closing her eyes, Daenerys sends a silent thank you to whatever deity helped keep her mate and son safe. Her mouth pressing a soft kiss to your forehead as she pulled you tighter into her embrace. Very much aware of Drogon’s presence wrapping around her. His protective stance warmed her heart.  

“Try and stay calm, okay?” She murmurs softly to herself as she pulls you tighter against her. Wanting to keep you as warm as she possibly could. “Help is coming.”

Glancing up, Daenerys could no longer see the various shadows of war against the landscape. Her heart thudding against her chest at what that could mean. Though none of it mattered if it meant that she lost you. 

Looking down, she presses another small kiss to your forehead and smiles despite the tears in her eyes. “I love you. If you hold on a bit longer I promise I will never leave your side again.” She nuzzles into your neck; needing to be surrounded by your scent. “You’ll be stuck with me. Just wait for help to come.”

Unbeknownst to Daenerys the slightest of smiles curled your lips at her words. You could never imagine not waiting for your dragon.