#does she realize her teeth are gone and is like well i cant kill any birds or lizards now- whats the point | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

jackest-jack · 3 years

Note

I would very much like to hear about your spooky scary Sirens, pretty please 🥺

AJKSJAKISJAJAJF Ok so I almost had a heart attack when I saw you were following me because YOU’RE SO COOL so thank you

I already wrote about my spooky scary sirens over here, and they have pictures and I would be willing to write a short thing with them later but for right now I’m gonna pick a different thing and blab about it.

The most fleshed out and cohesive thing I have is the vampire band nerd slasheresque story with a police chase followup as well as a separate zombie apocalypse thing, so ig I’ll go with that. More under cut and warning for like a lot of gore and death and angst. I’m also only doing the first part of that because this is taking a long ass time

I came up with this in junior high, and I was in band, and I noticed that each instrument section had different personalities sort of, so I made characters around that and put them in a horror plot where they all die horribly, because what else are you gonna do? This is gonna be a plot rundown and it might get real long. (It is no longer a rundown. Its just unedited word vomit.)

anyways a bunch of friends, who I’m just gonna call by their instrument names, go camping in the woods for a couple weeks. They all take one car and set up in the middle of fuckin nowhere.

Clarinets a vampire pretending to be a high schooler for kicks, because she was 15 when she turned 5 years ago and got dragged away to the magic underworld (basically a series of safehouses and towns for the supernatural) and she wants a letterman goddamnit.

She gets adopted into a friendgroup despite her best efforts, and gets dragged along on the camping trip in the small car and close quarters with a buddy system and she hasn’t eaten anything substantial in like two months and its proving to be a problem when she starts thinking of her friends as snacks instead of people.

one night, percussionist gets up to go on a 3 am lake walk. But, the buddy system. So he takes Clarinet, who never seems to sleep anyways, with him.

They’re on the edge of a lake littered with huge old chunks of driftwood, looking out over the water, when Percussionist steps on something sharp. It went straight through his sandal and he pulls it out without much trouble, but “that nail looks kind of rusty and I’m Pretty Sure I’m bleeding a little bit, oh I hope I don’t need a shot-“

she falls on him like a cat on a wounded songbird. She has enough of her mind left to cover his mouth and stop the screams as he slowly loses blood.

He tries to fight back. He does. he jams the nail deep into her throat and twists away, but she catches his wrist and slams him backward, a sharp stick going through his stomach, sticking him bloody at the base of an old driftwood branch still attached to its old tree.

She stops draining just before he dies. And she waits, and waits, and waits. Finally, hours later, the corpse takes a deep gasp and its eyes fly open. It begins the excruciating process of pulling itself off the tree.

his wound is closed less than a minute later.

he comes to and sees her sobbing on the ground, bloody streaks under her eyes from where she tried to wipe away her tears with hands soaked from putting pressure on his stomach in a feeble attempt to save him.

“Vampires, huh?” He says, half joking, half looking for an explanation.

—-—

they’re sitting around a small campfire, and Clarinet tells him that he’s a vampire, he needs blood, he cant go back to camp or he will eat his friends. She leaves to find him something substantial before he loses it.

back at the original camp, its around sunrise. Flute notices a small trail of smoke not far off, realizes that Percussionist is missing, and gets French Horn to help him look for their idiot friend (and maybe put out a small fire.)

They make it about 3/4th of the way to the smoke when flute trips on a tree root and scrapes his knee. About a mile away, Percussionists head perks up.

He distantly realizes that he just left the campfire that he’s supposed to stay at, but he can‘t seem to care. The hunger doesn’t gnaw at him or hollow him out. Its not like looking for a fix either. Its an itch in his whole body, a near unavoidable function of his being. The hunt is as natural as a cough, a spasm of muscles to take away the awful itch.

He moves faster than he ever could before, and just to see if he can, he jumps up and begins running across the branches of trees. Its slower, but sneakier; his prey won’t see him coming.

Finally, he reaches them. He jumps on the smaller one, sending it crashing to the ground. It’s blood is what brought him here. He sinks his hollow teeth into its neck and begins feeding.

There is a scream and a crash as the taller one runs away. Thats ok. He only needs one.

———

French horn, for her part, is freaking the fuck out. The sun had just peaked over the horizon and orange light was streaming through the trees when everything went to shit.

The pale thing had fallen on Flute, and the noise he made… she was almost certain he was dead now.

She kept running. If she could make it back to camp, then maybe she could get help, or maybe leave before the rest of them died too.

She charges through a thicket, sharp thorns scraping and tearing every inch of her as she shoves her way through. She shuts her eyes as she goes, to avoid the thorns poking them out.

When she comes out the other side, she feels her gut sink.

She doesn’t recognize the trees or bushes around her. She doesn’t see a path.

She’s lost.

She wants to break down, to scream and cry the injustice to the heavens, to kick and punch and fight the thing that killed her friend, to sit down and rest and have a moment to breathe, to be home-

She picks a direction and runs.

———

Percussionist stops draining Flute just before he‘s dead, following the instinct that drove him to where he is.

He wants to be horrified. He does, really. But he was so hungry, and the itch is still there, waiting beneath his skin to pounce on him again. But for now, its gone, and he can think clearly. He can move without the instinct tainting his every twitch.

He turns to look at the person he drained and sees-

He sees his friend. And it hits him all at once.

He killed a person, a person he knew, a person he cared for, and he had been powerless to stop it. He didn’t even know- he didn’t realize- he would never have done it if he-

but he knew he would have. Even if he knew. He would’ve killed Flute, and he hates himself for that.

So he sits by the body of his dead friend, maybe in solace, maybe because some instinctive tick tells him to. He doesn’t want to know. He refuses to.

When Flute sat up and gasped, Percussionist could‘ve sworn he had a heart attack (even without a functioning heart.)

To Flutes credit, he made it through Percussionists halting and confused explanation before letting himself ask about the smell.

”what smell?” Percussionist asked, and lifted his nose to the air.

He got his answer. The smell of blood, salty and sweet and with a coppery tinge to it drifted through the air, leaving a hunger and odd comfort sitting in his gut. It reminded him of smelling baking cookies from the kitchen as a kid.

A leaf crunched, and he snapped out of his trance. Flute had stood up and broken into a run, faster than any human could’ve gone. After the person that had been with him.

After his friend.

Percussionist sprinted after him.

——

He had the chance to notice how fast he was really going, now that he could think through the hunger. He practically flew through the forest, leaping over a fallen log half his size that blocked his way. He ducked and dodged branches that threatened to slash his face, and if he were running for something else he may have threw his head back and laughed.

As it was, he was following the occasional red flash of a windbreaker that he could barely keep up with without being hit by a tree.

He could heal now right? Did he really even need to be worried about being hit by trees?

He let one slap his face just to test, and he felt the stinging pain all across his face as a deep cut opened across his nose and eyes. He faltered as his vision went red with blood. A second later, it was gone, and he could see again. ….And he‘d lost flute. Great.

He sniffed the air, remembering how he’d been able to smell the blood, and tried to look for his friend.

He could smell the whole forest. Sap and pine and rotting leaves, rotten flesh and mushrooms and a skunk miles and miles off, the sweet sting of honey and dew and campfire smoke, and over it all, the most lovely smell-

Well, looks like he couldn’t find him that way. He thought for a moment, and groaned. He could just follow French Horn and get to her first!

He began running again.

———

Clarinet had just made it back to the campsite, a live deer kicking around over her shoulder. She would’ve killed it, but she couldn’t quite figure out how without losing any of its blood, and since she drained and seriously injured Percussionist he would need a lot of blood-

and the campfire had a suspicious lack of vampires around it. Great. She could only hope that no one had cut themselves-

She stopped as the scent of blood hit her nose. She cursed and took off running, dropping the deer as she did.

——

French Horn thought she was going to die when she heard a bush rustle and snap behind her. She had stopped for a rest, thinking she was safe (if very lost). She was braced for her death when Percussionist crashed through the bushes.

”Oh, good, you’re still alive. We need to go like right now.”

Before she could protest, he grabbed her wrist and began pulling her away. With his very cold, very pale hand.

”Wait. Was it you?” She said, planting her feet.

”Yes.” his voice was solemn, and his eyes downcast. “But unless you want Flute to get you, we need to go”

She tore her wrist out of his grasp.

“Flutes dead. Flute’s dead and you killed him!”

And Flute hit her from the side. He sank his teeth deep into her neck, but only for a moment. Then he pulled back, looking horrified and ran away.

French Horn stands up dazedly. “That was…”

”Yeah.”

she lifts a hand to her bleeding neck where the bite is still gushing blood.

A rustle of trees comes from the side, and Clarinet skids to a stop in front of them. She takes in the situation and drops to her knees, tearing loose a piece of her shirt and holding it to the holes in French Horn’s neck.

”Wheres the third?”

French horn points to the copse of trees he disappeared into.

”I think we might actually be jinxed.” A pause, then “That was supposed to be a joke. Go after him. He’s heading towards the camp, and chances are he won’t be able to stop himself a second time.”

Percussionist nods, and then stops. “How do I get there?”

”just run straight! GO!”

and he does.

———

Clarinet gently explains to French Horn that vampires are real, and that she is one. When asked why she isn’t bloodthirsty, Clarinet answers that she has a lot of blood left in her still, and that she’s not all the way changed, and that the change will, in her words, “Stink. Its kind of the worst thing you’ll have to go through, and it’ll take way longer since you have blood, and you may not notice at first.“

French Horn pursed her lips. “Theres no way to stop it?”

Clarinet shook her head.

”Okay. Okay, shouln’t we help Percussionist?”

Clarinet swore. “You won’t be much help in the state you’re in, but I can drop you off by the camp. Pack our things and be ready to go.”

Clarinet scooped French Horn up and took off into the woods.

———

Percussionist got there just as Tuba was ripping Flute off of his neck.

Despite Flute being the smallest out of all of them, and Tuba being the strongest, he was struggling to keep the scrabbling, biting Flute away.

So, Percussionist did the only logical thing and full body tackled Flute, trying to hold him down. It worked, sort of. Long enough for Tuba to start running. Long enough for Sax and Trombone to see what the ruckus was.

Flute burst out of Percussionists grip, grabbed Trombone and ran.

Sax sprinted after them, and percussionist was left in the dust, standing dumbstruck as they all dashed off. He snapped out of it when Trumpet pressed an axe to his shoulder and told him to not move.

———

Flute knows this: he is very hungry. He also knows that blood tastes very good.

His last two meals escaped. He thinks he let the first go, but he can’t seem to remember why. The second was ripped away from him by someone like him, which was rather rude.

But this one won’t get away. He is far to hungry to let that happen.

He feeds as he runs, draining the squirming thing dry, pinning its flailing limbs against his chest. It stops wailing eventually.

He slows as he becomes able to think clearly again. He holds the body in his arms and revels in the fact he is no longer hungry. Then, he looks at the thing he drained.

And it’s his friend. He feels his stomach drop, and a hollow pit grow in his chest. His friend is dead, and it’s his fault. He tells himself there’s nothing to do but run, so he does.

Really, though, he just doesn’t want to see what she’ll become.

———

“What did you do to them.” Said Trumpet, each word slow and dangerous. She lifted the axe off his shoulder, and he felt relief before he realized she was lining up to take off his head.

He may be able to heal, but he did not want to see how far that ability stretched. Not like this, at least.

He swallowed his fear and asked, ”What makes you think I did something?“

She barked out a harsh laugh. “You go missing in the middle of the night with Clarinet, who still isn’t back. Flute and French Horn go to look for you and have mysteriously disappeared. Tuba came running from this direction, bleeding like a stuck pig. And here I find you, in the center of it all.”

Ah. He was fucked. Time to implement the worst plan ever, considering how fast Trumpet was.

”that’s- that sure is some pretty overwhelming evidence that I did something. I swear I didn’t, though but I know you won’t believe me so I’m just gonna RUN!”

He ducked under the axe she swung at his head, and took off running into the trees. He glanced behind him to see her struggling to keep up, and grinned. He was actually getting away with his head, and beating Trumpet in a footrace for once-

He turned back around just in time to see the tree that crumpled his skull.

———

He wished he could say he didn’t feel every excruciating twitch of his skull righting itself as he laid there. As it was, it was painful enough he was functionally passed out.

Which is why he was surprised to see trumpet dragging him by his feet deep into the woods.

Not half as surprised as trumpet, who dropped his feet and swore when he sat up and gasped.

”What the hell? You were dead! that killed you!” She yelled.

Percussionist was still reeling from how much growing his skull back sucked, and latched on to the first thing he noticed.

”Did you steal my shoes?”

”what are you?” She asked in a tone that was decidedly horrified.

He fiddled with a piece of grass somewhere to his left. “A vampire, as of yesterday. Really though, why do you have my shoes?”

“Not important. What do you mean as of yesterday?”

”Last night, really. Me and Clarinet-“

”Clarinet and I.” She said.

”Whatever. We went on a walk and turns out she’s always been a vampire, and then she did the vampire thing, and now I’m a vampire, and things have just been spiraling from there-”

”That explains a lot, actually. Who else is a vampire?”

Percussionist, feeling slightly more alive, realized they weren’t by the camp anymore.

”Where are we? Why do you have my shoes, and why are you so calm about this?”

”oh.” She said. “I may have made an action plan for something like this. You know, in case of murderers, or if supernatural stuff was real.”

”thats cool. Why steal my shoes?“

”I was framing you for murder.”

an awkward silence settled over them.

”We should get back to camp. Stop more people from getting vampired and all.”

”Yeah. Lets do that.“

———

Sax skidded to a stop in front of Trombones body. She was limp, and pale, and by all accounts dead. He whipped out his phone to call anyone, anyone at all, and pitched it into a tree when it read no service.

He sat, and he cried by his best friend, who always made the shittiest puns, who was the worst at sports, who thought anything with soulmates was stupid but still read all the stuff he suggested her. Who was dead.

He was still crying when she sat up and latched onto his neck, draining him dry.

———

French Horn and Clarinet ran across Tuba, who was holding gauze to his neck where he had been bit. French Horn was starting to feel slightly feverish, but otherwise okay.

”Guys! Are you okay? The weirdest thing just happened.” He said.

”We need to leave.” Said Clarinet. “Now.”

”No argument here. Have you guys seen Flute? He was with you last time I saw him.“

French Horn and Clarinet shared a look.

“I’ll go find him. You two pack. we leave before dusk.”

They watched as she disappeared into the leaves.

”Whats going on?” Asked tuba, a hint of worry in his voice.

French Horn took a deep breath in before saying “Vampires are real.”

Tuba burst out laughing.

“Oh. You’re serious.” He said as he hefted a tent into the back of the van.

”you don’t believe me.”

“How could I? I haven’t seen any proof that they exist.”

She threw a bag of trash in the van with more force than nessecary.

“What attacked you then?”

At this he paused. “I don’t know. But I’m pretty sure it wasn’t a vampire.”

———

Percussionist and Trumpet made it to where Trombone was crying over Sax, the late afternoon sun reflecting off of their now pale skin.

“Hey, hey, it’s okay. He’ll be alright.”

Trombone looked up at him and snarled, all teeth and rage, and Percussionist jumped back.

”He’ll end up like me, won’t he.”

Percussionist nodded.

”I don’t know what world you’re living in, but this isn’t fucking alright!”

Trumpet walked over and knelt in front of Trombone. She held out her hand, and Trombone scrambled away.

”I don’t believe you would hurt me. Not right now. I know you didn’t do it on purpose.”

”so what?” She scoffed. “I still did it. Should I just go on existing as whatever I am now? Just kill people so I can live?”

”Actually,“ Percussionist said, “we can live off of different types of blood.”

Trumpet looked back and pinched the bridge of her nose. “Shut up you twatwaffle, can’t you see this is a delicate moment?”

”just figured it would be some good information to have.“ he said.

“Are you seriously telling me my angst fest was for nothing?” She asked.

Percussionist leaned against a tree. “Oh, don‘t worry.” He said. “Theres still plenty of angst about the immortality.”

“Sax did always say he wanted to be sixteen forever.”

Trumpet rolled her eyes. “Lets go home.”

Trombone reached out to take Trumpets hand, and Sax shot up and clamped his jaws around her throat. Trombone grabbed Trumpets wrist and pulled her away as Percussionist peeled Sax away.

”Let him.“ choked out Trumpet. “I‘ll be one of you either way.”

”Absolutely not!” Said Percussionist. “Trombone, go find literally anything else with blood.” Sax kicked and snarled in his grip. “Hurry! I’m not sure how much longer I can hold him.”

———

“Flute!” Yelled Clarinet. She had been looking for him for an hour now, and still couldn’t find him.

She was walking along an old trail that went out of use years ago when she almost tripped over him. He was curled up in the shade of a tree, hiding away in a hollow.

“What do you want.”

”I want to take you home.” She said.

he laughed. “Something like me doesn’t deserve a home. I killed people, and I knew there was another way, but I did it anyway. Just leave me here to rot.”

She remembered when she’d been like this. She had forgotten to eat, had slipped up. Its not a hard thing to do. When you’re a vampire, you brain tricks you into feeling fine by your old standards until you‘re so hungry you can’t stop it.

She believed it was all her fault, though. The only way someone had gotten through to her was something they had called twisting the knife. She had always called it shitty.

She sighed. “I wanted to say sorry.”

He poked his head out a little, peering up at her. “You didn’t do anything.”

”But I did.” She said. “I drained percussionist dry last night, and then I left him to find you. I watched while you attacked your friends, and now, I’m giving you a chance to fix the harm we caused. What will you do with it?”

”You made me like this?” He asked.

”Yes.”

he lunged at her face, fingers clawing for her eyes. She turned around and ran for the campsite, making sure he was behind her, and praying that he would forgive her for the stunt she just pulled.

———

The campsite was packed, and Percussionist and Trombone had made a game of who could catch the best songbird for Sax. Sax was less murderously inclined, though it was hard to tell if it was because the blood he had consumed or trumpets growing nonhumanness.

After the third or fourth time of watching Sax suck down a bird or squirrel like a juice box, Tuba was forced to admit that maybe vampires were a little real.

(He noticed his neck wound had already scabbed over and was halfway gone. He was afraid to ask if he was becoming one.)

The sun was slipping behind the tops of the trees when Clarinet charged out of the forest, leapt over the van, And yelled “Flutes trying to kill me!”

Flute burst into the clearing and lunged at Clarinet. Percussionist stepped in the way.

”What happened?“

”She did this in purpose! She said she dropped you in the woods to kill us!”

Percussionists blinked. “No she didn’t. She told me to stay where I was while she got something for me to eat.”

he stopped yelling. Now, he just looked confused. “But she turned you.”

”Yeah? It was an accident. She obviously regretted it.”

Percussionist backed off, and Flute looked at clarinet.

”why did you say all that then?”

“You were’t gonna come with me if I didn’t. Besides, you were spiraling and this was the easiest way to stop that.”

”Sounds like the shittiest way to stop it, too.” Scoffed Tuba.

She sighed. “Yeah. It was.”

”Hey,” asked sax. “Are any of us still human? I know me, Percussionist, and Trombone aren’t-“

”Percussionist, Trombone, and I.” Said Trumpet.

”-And I saw you two jump over my van, but whats up with the rest of you?”

”Basically,” said Clarinet, “anyone who was bit is or will become a vampire, depending on how much blood they had left in them after the bite. Was there anyone who wasn’t bit?”

everyone was silent as they all glanced at each other, looking for anyone who could say yes. It quickly became awkward, and was broken by Clarinet muttering “Fuck.” quietly under her breath.

”Who all, um, died today?”

Flute, Sax, and Trombone slowly raised their hands. Clarinet squinted at Percussionist, which prompted him to say “What? I died last night.”

French Horn yelled “past twenty four hours, dingus.”

He rolled his eyes and raised his hand.

”Alright. You three,” -she made a sweeping gesture towards the three with their hands down- “Are going to have the worst couple weeks of your life. Take a few days off of everything. Don’t go to the hospital. Stay isolated. Call me when the pain’s mostly over.”

Tuba’s lips pursed. “What, exactly, is going to happen to us?”

”The way it was explained to me was that your body slowly cannibalizes itself. It sucks.”

”hm.” He said. He looked very troubled.

They got in the van and drove through the night.

For now, they rest. A short break, before they have to figure out the rest of their lives.

#Not a super satisfying ending I know #Not the best writing I could’ve done either #I’m already planning out a sequel for how things go that will get into the nitty gritty of their character #And hopefully give them real names #THIS WAS SUPPOSED TO BE A PLOT SUMMARY WHAT WHENT WRONG #(It started out as a kiss how did it end up like this)#Its still basically the bulletpoints version of this story with some banter mixed in #I did actually have a concrete well thought out(ish) plan #Then the characters (mostly trumpet and tuba) said “no thanks we’re too cool for your shit/to much of a himbo” respectively #And honestly? They’re right #Please keep in mind I made this when I was like 12-13 and havent developed it much since then but I love em all the same #I could be persuaded to attempt to draw them #Or at least picrew them #Anyways that took way too long thank you for sitting through this with me #Writing #my writing #oc #ocs #my ocs #writeblr #Bandpires

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khaleesiofalicante · 3 years

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OH MY GOD! ITS HAPPENING! Its only the summary and I’m emo 😂 I should be studying for my exams, but I have tomorrow for that ;)

Ok, lets do this:

UDHWIJSHW THEY ARE SO CUTE FOR EACH OTHER I CANT-

"He preferred to hide his heart away. But he couldn’t hide David. He didn’t want to. David deserved to be seen." Like father like son. Both speeking poetry about their love ones. (and no, Idk which father I'm talking about 😂)

“I don’t think they are fake dating,” David hummed from the other end. “You don’t talk for hours every night if you are just fake dating.” (THANK YOU DAVID! SOMEONE THAT ITS NOT BLIND)

"They like doing chores. Let them do it. They fight demons all day and then come home and do chores. I feel like it’s their form of therapy. They need this.”“So, by not helping them, we are technically helping them?” Bapa had asked and Max had nodded with a grin. “Shadowhunters are weird.” “True dat,” Max had laughed. They were all weirdos. But Max loved them anyway. He loved his weird shadowhunters. (The domesticity lf this is killing me in a good way🥺)

“Will you on a date with me? Tomorrow?” Max asked then – because why the hell not. (Hell yeah Max. Go big or go home babe😎)

“This date is going to be the best first date in the history of first of dates.” In retrospect, he really shouldn’t have said that. (I'm already feeling his chaotic ass will do something like Magnus did, but lets keep hope)

"Maybe Lexi and Liv would probably enjoy a date – a fake date - in the arcade." Could I be more in love with both of them?? Is that physically possible?? 💙

Elyaas giving Max dating advice!! Lmaooo 😂😂

"His parents would not be pleased if they knew Max was summoning demons for relationship advice. But they had also encouraged Max to make friends with everyone regardless of their identity. So, technically this was their fault. They gave him very mixed messages." YOU LIL SHIT. YOU ARE NOT WRONG THO...

FUCK. An attack??

You lil shit Max.

Yep, Rafael has to deal with it everyday 😂

OOMG YESS. THE ALIANCE RUNE!!

"So, when he got tired, he would simply fix the problem by eating. It was a win-win to be honest." I feel like I should say something, but tbh it makes sense

Ok, this fight is intense

Wait. Anjali is there??? What?

Oh ok, it wasn’t

“Say the thing!”Rafael groaned and raised his hands, the alliance rune lighting up.“I’m not just a shadowhunter,” Rafael said through gritted teeth. “I’m Magnus Bane’s son.” I'm dead 😂

THAT SCENE WAS EVERYTHING. LOVE THOSE TWO

“Well, demons are stupid,” Max pointed out. “Yeah, that makes sense,” Rafael said with a mouthful of food. “You are half demon after all.” “Asshole,” Max laughed and punched his brother.

“Text dad we are okay,” Rafael said, slowly recovering. “They will worry.”Max nodded and did that. (This just summ up sibling relationships so well *chef kiss*)

“It can be hard, Max. Bapak and dad…Sometimes I look at them and feel like I will never have what they have.” YUP. THEY HAVE SIBLINGS DYNAMIC. ALSO RAFAEL IS JUST 🥺🥺🥺

David got wounded???

Oh ok. False alarm.

Rafael sat down next to him and put Bapak’s head on his lap, gently massaging it.

“Are you okay?” dad knelt down next to his husband. “Just a little tired,” Bapak replied.A little tired. Max knew Bapak was fucking exhausted." "Bapak never showed it. He never complained. Max wondered what else he hid away from everyone else." “Okay,” dad whispered and kissed his husband on the head. “Get some rest, my love.” Bapak nodded and closed his eyes as Rafael hummed something softly. (Well, now I'm crying 😭😭)

" His niece found an herbal medication that helps with the pain.” ANJALI!! I LOVE HER💙💙

"Dad finally smiled and went out to the balcony, phone in hand. He seemed to hang out in the balcony a lot lately" No no no. I dont like this. Babe find a better copying mechanism!!

"Bapak smiled then. A brilliant grin. The one dad probably fell in love with." jsyeihdiej I cant🥺💙

"Bapak sniffed when dad sat down next to him and gave him an odd look. But he didn’t say anything." Magnus tell him something. I dont like where this is going😭

“Does that mean Bapak is a capitalist?” Max asked. “Do not drag me into this!” Bapak protested and dad laughed at that" Ahh yess. Typical family discussions 😂

"David: Mr Herondale yelled “Yes! Two out of three!” (😂😂 I HONESTLY LAUGHED WAY TO HARD!!)

“Well, no! I don’t want drama. But I want you to be dramatic so I can tell you not to be dramatic!” I would like to say WHAT? but I honestly get it 😂

“Also, we all know you had an embarrassing crush on Uncle Jace growing up,” Rafael snickered. “And you definitely still have a crush on Uncle Jem.” Oh god 😂😂 but I mean... Who doesn't have a crush on Jem?

“Oh yeah?” Max demanded. “Well then let me explain your type. You are probably going to fall for someone who is like a combination of Aunt Izzy and Aunt Lily! Some femme fatale type who is a heartbreaker and looks like a supermodel and-” Boy got it right huh? 😂

“You two are dating?” dad demanded. “Since when? Who else knows about this? Why didn’t you tell us before? Were you dating when you were in London? Magnus, did you know about this?” “There you go!” Max yelled triumphantly. “That’s the dramatic reaction I was looking for. Thanks, dad!” lmaooo 😂😂

"And that’s how the next hour turned out to be the most painful and most embarrassing hour of his life." I. I have no words

“I’ll have you know this conversation utterly traumatized me. I demand financial compensation.” “Not happening,” dad said into his coffee, and Max groaned before walking back into his room. (THAT FAMILY 😂😂)

" I tried to hurt your father once.” OH no, the angst is coming

" He didn’t know about this. He knew about their story. Everyone did. The accords hall kiss. The fight in Edom. The changing of the law. Their love was legendary. Not this!" THIS IS BRINGING BACK SO MANY FLASHBACKS

“All I know is that I was terrified. I love your father. I love Magnus more than anything in the world. And I didn’t want to lose him. And I didn’t know what to do.” 😭😭 NOT AGAIN!!

"When you love someone so much, sometimes you do crazy things.” THIS

" Love had made a fool out of them. Love had made them blind." Yup. tsc: a summary

"When you love someone, you have to be honest with them" And THAT is character development!!

"They called it The Jem effect." I'm using this from now on 😂💙💙

"Uncle Jem was wearing a tank top and and ripped jeans." So its time for SIMP over Jem Carstairs? Okey then.

"In fact, he used to have a crush on both Tessa and Jem. It’s how he had found he was bisexual." Same here 😂

“MINA! I SWEAR TO LILITH I AM GOING TO GET YOU BACK FOR THIS!” OH MY GOD I LOVE MINA!!

“In my defense, I was busy!!” “Oooo, someone has been getting busy!” Mina WINKED. (You lil shit! I love her 💙)

He didn’t know he could blush!!!

" They had gone to hell and back for Roman. It wouldn’t have been possible if not for Catarina. She was, and always has been, a miracle worker." Again, I love my queen💙💙

“I believe in Mavid supremacy.” ME TOO

"There is something so queer about Ferris wheels!" Someone needed to say this

"They had their own space in the spiral fucking labyrinth. These fucking legends." I BELIEVE IN WARLOCK TEAM SUPREMACY

"But Ragnor had always had a soft spot for Rafael." 🥺🥺

I love my warlock squad so much I cant-

Ragnor is so done😂

“I don’t want to lose him,” Max said it out loud for the first time. “But you will, Max,” Catarina said gently. “Everyone loses people they love. Every day. It’s how life works.” (its to early to be crying)

“Yes, we do,” Ragnor replied. “But it also means we fall in love over and over. Century after century. It’s our blessing.” (these warlocks are just to perfect)

“And that love is going to last for a lifetime,” Tessa said softly. “Can you imagine that? Someone loving you for centuries. Someone remembering you for eternity. Doesn’t that sound wonderful?” 🥺🥺

David deserved to be loved like that – endlessly and impossibly. (OK BUT THE PARALLEL)

Tessa should definetly write a guidebook

“Je t’aime à la folie,” Max said.David’s eyes widened. “Vraiment?“ "Je t’aime. Je t’aime de toute mon âme. Je t’aime pour toujours.” ( I literally screamed and woke up my sister, I just love them so much!!!)

"David smiled. The smile Max fell in love with" 🥺🥺

“I know I am not your forever and I am okay with that.” Max bit his lip. “Okay.” “But you are mine,” David said. “You know that, right?” (ksidjdldk its just all this was beautiful!)

“I got it all planned,” Max said – for someone who had no idea what he was going to do." (Me as I should be studying 😂)

" And you were just scared. You were just a kid." “I just…I just realized you might not have had that when you were growing up – that there might not have been people you could talk to about these things.” THAT!! LOUDER FOR THE PEOPLE IN THE BACK!

"Max pulled him closer and kissed him again. Every kiss a promise. A promise to love. A promise to fight. A promise to survive" I would die for this two

OMG he took him to the Celestial Palace!! Thats so perfect and 🥺🥺

“Oh mon dieu! Ceci est incroyable! Il y a tellement de livres! Oh mon dieu! Je l'aime tellement!”💙💙 Idk how you manage to make me love David even more

“Of course he doesn’t hate you!” Max chuckled. “But he did say he will put your nerd ass in the silent city if you don’t bring me home by 11.” David blinked. “You’re joking, right?” “Of course,” Max grinned. His father had actually said that but there was no need to scary poor David any further. (😂😂 Imagine having the Consul as father-in-law, poor David)

“Yeah, not good with words my ass,” Exactly!! They say they are not good with words and procede to recite poetry of their love one??!!

Ughh I love this chapter so much and I loved how they deal with the inmortality thing! I just love when people comunicate and talk to each other! THATS A HEALTHY RELATIONSHIP! And how they didn't repeat Alec and Magnus mistake. I just love it! *chef kiss*

Anyway, this was really long and it took to open notes to fullfill, so i'll just leave💙💙

Bro I just felt like I read the whole chapter again and I am feels. I AM FEELS SEND HELP. Not me catching feels over my own shit lmaooooo.

Thank you so much. I have some work to do and I was like meh and now I have some energy to do it lol. I hope you spend tomorrow studying! You better!! Good luck!

ps - I love you notice the parallels and references. It makes me lil heart go boop!

also why do I feel like y'all are eternally doing exams????

#ily thank youuuu #lbaf

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popculturebuffet · 3 years

Text

Life and Times of Scrooge McDuck Restrospective: The Raider of the Copper Hill! “You Got Rich Son”

Hello all you happy people! And welcome back to my retrospective of the Life and Times of Scrooge McDuck! It’s been far too long, almost three months since we last checked in with Scrooge and frankly I feel i’ve been spacing these entries out too much for this one and for the retrospectives that aren’t paid for in general. So expect at least one McDuck adventure a month till I finish, possibly two when I can swing it like this month.

Now i’m done beating myself up, when we last left off a younger more naive, more optimistic and less experienced Scooge took up a career as a cowboy for Cattle Baron, gained his first sidekick in the form of his Horse Hortense, and took out some cattle thieves with the help of Teddy Fucking Roosevelt.

This chapter marks the end of the story’s first act. The first act is about a younger and far nicer Scrooge: still onrey and still a cheapskate, but still a good kid and far more outwardly friendly and welcoming, a far cry from the bitter untrusting man we come to know. This chapter is one of the reasons why, as Scrooge learns a hard lesson about wealth and success, the sacrifices one needs to make for family and about sticking your hand in a lightbulb while it’s plugged in. So join me under the cut as Scrooge meets another valuable mentor, one of his greatest enemies, and about 50 feet of barbed wire.

We begin with the end of Scrooge’s time as a ranch hand and cowpunch. With homesteaders moving in and dividing up the land, Murdo simply dosen’t have the space for cattle baroning anymore and has to let Scrooge go and head back to texas. We do get a great bit of Scrooge wrapped in barbed wire, having gone to cut some down so Murdo could move the herd out.

So with his Job done and parting on good terms with his old boss, Scrooge sets up his own homestead on some land near the Anaconda Silver Mine, trying to make it as a prospector, starting on the path that would eventually lead him to riches.. in about a decade and a half.

So Scrooge bemoans his rotten luck over Dinner with a stranger, Marcus Daly owner of said mine... who just.. randomly sat down to have dinner with a 17 year old.

Marcus belays his own woes: While Scrooge has failed at what he tried to do, having gotten into both steamboating and cattle punching too late to go anywhere with either, Daly has a silver mine that’s full of copper: decent amoutns of it but still not what his investors wanted.

Both however find their fortunes reverse in an instant in the weirdest way possible. The light goes out at their table and Scrooge tries to adjust it only to electcute himself. To his shock...

He finds out it’s running on electricty, which is starting to become widespread.. and requires vast amounts of copper wiring. Scrooge is back in the game but finds trouble getting equipment as the local seller naturally is a jackass who jacks up the price. Scrooge instead sells the gold teeth his dad gave him to the nearest gentleman after talking him into it. . And i’ts not even the weirdest transaction i’ve seen this week.

For the record those weird things are the guy on the left’s skinflakes, his power is to make naked golems of himself out of his dandruff and skin flakes and what have you, while the guy on the right is paying for a mutant with a star for a head. So yeah a scottish cowboy selling his ancestor’s dentures to pay for mining gear is refelshingly tame after all of this.

So we get the comic equivleant of a montage as Scrooge starts his work at prospecting, making a portable homesteader shack as a miner owns any land he lives on, and moving around to try and find it, but he runs into a problem: with his last two careers he had mentors to help him learn what to do: Pothole taught him riverboating and Murdo helped him learn to ride the trails. Here he has no one and while you can self teach a lot of things prospecting isn’t one of them.

He end sup finding one though as a rich gentleman asking about the mine happens to wander by: Howard D. Rockerduck. If that names sounds familiar it should as he’s indeed the father of exactly who your thinking of and we meet a young 10 or so year old john who asks him to stop dealing with a grubby workman. We also find out whose responsible for him turning out ot be such a piece of work as his mother’s response to his father telling him “I used to be a grubby workman is well... word’s cant’ do this amount of classist bulslhit justice.

Seriously his unnamed wife is so odious it hurts. And how the fuck did an honest, kind man like Howard end up with this bitch? It’ sbaffled me every time i’ve read this: did he marry for money? is he a gold digger? go down gold dig get down? Is she just THAT good in bed? Did he just make a horrible mistake one night? Did she lie to him about who she was? Was she replaced by a skrull? I have questions no duck comic has properly explained.. and if they have please tell me. Also it does tickle me we’re getting a bit with a duck named howard though sadly he wears a top hat instead of a nice little bowler. And if you don’t know who howard the duck is.. shame on you. And if you’ve seen the movie.. my deepest sympathies.

While Howard laments wanting to horsewhip his son, this was a century ago with change mind you standards were different and also John sucks. Howard crticizes Scrooge’s techqniue after introducing himself, and Scrooge and him get into a bit of a tizzy, with Howard offering to teach him for two cents.. but the hostility quickly desolves hours later as Scrooge realizes Howard was right and he’d been doing things completely wrong and the thrill of hard honest work again has washed away any ego driven competiviness.

I”ll get more into Howard in a second but he does eventually strike copper, and while the vein is full it’s also thin. But Howard has one final trick and takes Scroogey for an ore test. I tried to find more on this but just found a lot of ways to do it yourself and what not. I”m now really intrigued how they did this and found the content of minerals. I know it’s a dull subject but i’m curious how they did it with the technology of the time. Did they just use acids like I found? If so how’d they get them? I do say this is one of the great qualities of Rosa’s works: he makes you want to learn more about history. I looked up more about TR after the last chapter and now I want to know how the hell metallurgy worked in the late 1800′s.

We then get an intresting interacton as Scrooge.. warmly greets the townsfolk and vice versa.. yes the same Scrooge who as an adult would be introduced proclaming...

Is warm, optimistic and wholeheartedly belieives...

As you can probably tell by Howard’s reaction and what Scrooge becomes.. this story’s all about shattering that notion and is the first of two to shatter the poor kid’s trust in people and make him into the bitter old sod we know.

The sample comes back 55% positive... which leaves Howard rushing to get Scrooge to a court house. As it turns out there’s an old, very real for the time, mining law called the Law of Apex: whoever owns the land closest to where an ore vein is on the surface owns the whole thing... so legally Scrogoe owns the ENTIRE ANACONDA COPPER MINE, which at this point as detailed in the time skip has gone from struggling to utterly thriving and sucessful. Whoever owns the land at the time the Judge rules it gets the mine.. and Scrooge’s friends, who seconds ago were concerned about him being dragged into court.. are now all scrambling to take his fortune, something Howard dosen’t seem at all suprised about.

But while this may be a kinder, more naive Scrooge McDuck, it’s still SCROOGE MCDUCK. His response is to cut a nearbye power wire and swing it tarzan style over to hortense and ride her back ahead of the mob... with the electric wire slapping her rear and causing her to go extra fast.. and also quit. So Scrooge stands alone but manages to take out some of the ruffians with his shack while John and the Judge rush to the site. As for Scrooge well... you want to see what a McDuck family beserker rage against an ENTIRE angry mob of opportunistic assholes look like?

And this isn’t even the most badass thing Scrooge will do this series. Or even in the next few issues. That’s how awesome this series is: fighting an angry mob SOLO with simply his pure rage and whatever he can grab and throw. And he WINS. He’s exausted and passes out, falling out of the sky on his final opponent.. but he took out what was at the LEAST 50 men, and ONLY passed out because one of them threw dynamite in his out house.. and even THAT didn’t kill him or put him out, simply casuing him to land on said dynamite throwing idiot and wins.

We find out Rockerduck actually was one of the mine’s owners but helped Scrooge anyway: he has more than enough money and all it’s going to do in the end is go to a greedy brat. Marcus Daly shows up and while he’ll get the law overturned eventually, he still has to shut down while that happens and finds the right officials to bribe. And this is the 1800s... you gotta go by train to do your bribes. You can’t just do that shit over email and hidden bank accounts. Daly offers him 10,000.. but given what Scrooge could earn even before he got his mine back, Scrooge turns it down.

However this victory is bittersweet as Scrooge warmly greets his friends.. only for one to cuss him out and the other to tell him to get loss. We then get one of my faviorite exchanges in this story.

This whole Panel is a masterwork. The sheer INNOCENCE on Scrooge’s face, almost looking like Donald, desperately wondering what he did, when as Howard points out.. he did nothing wrong. He simply got successful and they resent him for it.

This has been a hard paragraph for me to write as I want to tread carefully. People do have good reasons to scorn the rich or celebrtiies sometimes. Some rich people or those in the media are genuinely terrible. Jeff Bezos, Tucker Carlson, Mel Gibson, Louie CK, Joss Whedon and even someone as low on the totem pole as Doug Walker is odious. And of course we all can think of one odious example of rich bastard i’d rather not think of, especially when thinking of John D Rockerduck and what he’l lbecome as an adult that i’m not giving a pleasure of the name drop but came to mind.

But even for good people becoming succesful puts up a barrier between you and other people: Fans of yours will admire you or write fanfic or what have about you without even knowing you, i’ve been on that side, and some people will hate you just because without valid reason, especially in this day and age. Success breeds resentment and even people you trusted and loved can sometimes turn on you. It’s the double eged sword of achieving your dreams: You get what you wanted but you often loose what you had.

And it was no diffrent two centuries ago, with Scrooge’s friends only being friendly as long as it suited them, turning on him first to steal his chance at glory and then to scorn him for daring to achieve it. Some people.. are only there for you as long as your not above them. And sometimes you can be happy. Look at Tom Hanks, who has a lovely family and a long and storied career. Or Linkara, a youtuber who has been at this for over a decade, has tons of fans, a loving wife with her own succesful channel, and just recently got contacted by his childhood heroes. You CAN be happy and successful.. it’s just very hard to make it that far.

One of the central points of life and times is that’s often not the case: You can get what you want but it comes at a cost. And it’s how you pay that price that will determine how happy you are. Another central point intertwined with it is it’s not the journey but the destination, and i’ts how Scrooge takes that journey that ultimately leads him where he ends up good and bad. And we get an all to telling all too foreboding hint in how he takes everyone he knew for at least a year turning on him overnight.

When faced with his first real loss on this Journey that wasn’t material.. he dosen’t care. He has his money and riches and that’s enough. And as we’ll see that attitude will cost him greatly. Howard is irate for a moment, hoping he wasn’t wrong in trusting Scrooge.. and indeed, for now, turns out to have placed his faith in the right person as Scrooge gets a telegram: his family needs him. And while he could stay, turn his back on them, and earn MILLIONS.. he tells Howard to tell the owner he’s taking the deal. For now when given the choice between his family and his fortune, SCrooge will choose them. Sadly.. that won’t hold true forever.

With this being the end of his time in the story, as he has a still insufferable John buy him a horsewhip for horrific but darkly funny reasons, as John brags about how rich his father is not realizing he’s buying his own whupping tool, i’d like to touch on Howard D Rockerduck and how amazing he is. Rosa managed to pack a throughly interesting, throughly engaging character into only 8 pages. While Rockerduck DID show up earlier in of ducks dimes and destinys, he wasn’t really fleshed out or named and only showed up for one page so still 9 pages total.

But in those we see a kind and noble man whose easily what Scrooge COULD have been, kind, noble, generous, hardworking and willing to give up money to help people. He’s a good man.. but even he’s seen the sacrifice Money brings. He’s clearly lost friends, lost a sense of peace, and married the wrong Woman, whose poisoned his children into a spoiled brat who will only grown into an even more spoield adult in both continuities.. if raised quite a bit earlier in the 2017 cartoon as he was made scrooge’s contemporary there rather than a child, but semeantics. Point is Howard hismelf isn’t wholly satisfied with his success.. and that’s what he and Scrooge will forever have in common, with Scrooge, likely as a result of meeting the Rockerducks, fearing an indadiquate inheritor and someone squandering what he worked hard for. Though his reasons for not taking up a wife as we’ll see eventually, if outside the main 12 part story but I intend to cover the subchapters in their own time, aren’t entirely motivated by avoiding goldigging but a broken hard and his own stubborness.

For now though we bid Howard and america adue. Scrooge however for once ends an occupation with less bitterness. Unlike his last two ventures where he made it out with only enough to get to the next one here he made it out ahead: he now has a decent suit, likely bought for him by Howard given he hasn’t cashed the check yet, I know this as it’s a major plot point for next time, 10,000 dollars.. and experince. He may of not gotten all the money he was due on this venture, but he learned more valuable skills and he feels with a land like america, the next opportunity to earn some dough is just waiting for him to get back. And as the chapter ends he muses that maybe the country could use a symbol of this countries boundless opportunity...

Final Thoughts for the Raider of the Copper Hill:

This chapter is one of my favorites. It’s nicely paced, something Rosa himself admits was often a struggle as he had to cover years at a time, has a wonderful new mentor for Scrooge, and sets up a lot of the tragedy to come in the last act beautifully. It’s a nice closer for our first act, showing Scrooge has come out of his first trip to america wiser, more experinced and more hopeful, but at heart still the same kind and noble kid he left Glasgow as. The next act is about the change of that boy into a man, how he will finally find his fortune after some more adventures.. and how the last viestges of his kindess and optimisim towards others die at the hands of a certain fake scotish gentleman.

Next Life And Times: As is tradition for this series act openers, Scrooge returns home.. and just in time to get his castle back, fight a duel and go to heaven and back. So an average McDuck tuesday then.

If you liked this review follow for more. And if you liked it a lot join my patreon so I can keep making these and hit my stretch goals. Even at just the 2 dollar level you get access to my discord and your pick of shorts whenever I do a series of them and with Goofy and Donald’s birthdays being the next ones to be celebrated you can’t pick a better time. patreon.com/popculturebuffet See you at the next rainbow.

#ducktales #the life and times of scrooge mcduck #the raider of the copper hill #scrooge mcduck #john d rockerduck #howard d rockerduck #howards bitch of a wife #mining #prospecting

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ejzah · 4 years

Note

How about a fanfic on everyone’s thoughts when Deeks first joined the team and now their present thoughts of him and how much he’s proven himself.

A/N: I don’t know if you wanted something this fluffy, but here it is.

***

“I don’t know what Hetty was thinking bringing Deeks in as a liaison,” Sam said, shaking his head. Deeks had left a couple hours ago to begin prepping for his undercover.

“I thought he did ok,” Kensi said, not knowing why she felt the need to defend him. When both Sam and Callen a questioning look, she shrugged awkwardly and added, “I mean, he didn’t get anyone killed so that’s good, right?”

“The others cops wouldn’t even talk to him,” Sam continued. “The guy cant if liaise which is the whole point of him being here.”

“He did ok undercover at the club,” Callen offered, which earned a glare from Sam. “But you’re right, it could have gone better.”

“He’s annoying, he doesn’t follow the rules...he’s not right for the team.”

“I beg to differ, Mr. Hanna,” Hetty said quietly from behind them. Sam turned around, his expression stubborn and set.

“Hetty, what if somebody gets hurt? He’s unpredictable and untrained.” Hetty gave him a disapproving look, folding her hands together in a way that reminded Kensi of how her kindergarten teacher had looked when a student was in trouble.

“Sam, you know very well that the ability to roll with the punches is a highly useful skill in this job. And as for Detective Deeks being untrained, LAPD would not have him running solo undercover operations if he wasn’t capable.” Sam started to object again, but she raised a silencing finger. “And whatever holes there may be, we will fill them.”

“So you’re planning on him being permanent member of the team?” Kensi asked. Hetty observed her from a moment and then nodded.

“Yes, I do. I think you’ll find Mr. Deeks a more than adequate partner.” Kensi didn’t say anything else, accepting her fate for the foreseeable future. She thought Deeks was pretty annoying at times, and fully intended to pay him back for the whole Fern bit, but she didn’t disdain him the way Sam seemed to.

“I expect you to treat our new member with as much respect as you do each other,” she added before she turned to leave.

“He needs a haircut and shave too,” Sam muttered under his breath once she was out of ear shot. Somehow he made it sound like the most egregious of Deeks’ shortcomings.

***

“Nice work, man,” Sam said, reaching over to clap Deeks on the back. He didn’t even wince as he came closer than most people dared when Deeks was wearing “Artie”.

Deeks popped the yellows veneers he wore over his own teeth out and grinned, looking pleased by Sam’s compliment. He’d spent a week straight as his homeless alias which had ended in a successful outcome.

“Not to brag, but I would agree that my performance was, uh, shall we say inspired?” Deeks asked without a hint of modesty.

“Deranged is the word I’d used,” Callen commented.

“Even better.” Deeks started removing his jacket, but paused halfway through, frowning as he sniffed the air. “Does anyone else smell smoke?”

“Crap!” Somebody shouted from down the hallway. Deeks turned to Sam and Callen with a raised eyebrow as the distinct sound of Kensi, Eric and Nell bickering filtered into the bullpen.

“You wanna tell me why Kensi and The Wonder Twins are trying to burn down the mission?” he asked.

“We are not burning anything down,” Kensi protested, sounding slightly breathless as she hurried toward them with a giant cake, topped with numerous candles. She set it down on top of Deeks’ desk and glared at Nell and Eric. “I told you 40 candles was too many.”

“Candles are festive,” Eric insisted.

“Not when they almost set a building on fire.”

“Ok, uh, does anyone want to tell me why we’re having cake?” Deeks asked., hastily adding, “Not that I’m complaining. I love cake.”

“We’re celebrating a very important anniversary,” Callen answered, a hint of a smirk twisting his lips.

“What anniversary?” Kensi came to stand beside him and wrapped an arm around his waist. She pressed a kiss to his cheek, smiling up at him.

“Today is the tenth anniversary of the day you officially joined NCIS,” she told him, grinning at Deeks as his face flushed slightly.

“You guys really didn’t have to do this,” he said, feeling unaccountably embarrassed. Maybe it was something to do with the way everyone was watching him fondly.

“Of course we did!” Nell insisted. “This team wouldn’t be the same without you.”

“She’s right. I may not have realized it at first, but you are a valuable member of this team, this family. I think I can speak for all of us when I say that we’re grateful for the day Marty Deeks dropped into our lives,” Sam said, reaching out to squeeze Deeks shoulder.

Kensi wrapped her arm around him a little tighter as he tried to think of something to say. He felt overwhelmed by all the attention and unexpected praise.

“Wow, Sam, that’s um...”

“A toast worthy of Dom Perignon,” Hetty said, holding up a bottle of champagne and saving Deeks from having to make any speeches. “Nell, would you mind grabbing some glasses?” As Nell scurried off, Callen started cutting giant slices of chocolate cake.

While they were all distracted, Kensi wrapped her arms around Deeks’ neck and kissed him gently. “Sam is right, we are so lucky to have you,” she whispered. Deeks tipped her head up, kissing her soundly and forgetting about everyone else until Callen shouted,

“Hey, quit making out, the champagne’s gonna go flat.” As Deeks glanced around the room while they ate pieces of cake, the frosting a little smushed from Callen’s efforts, and drank champagne, Deeks couldn’t help thinking that he was pretty lucky too.

***

Thanks for the prompt! Hope this was ok.

#ncis la fanfiction #marty deeks #kensi blye #sam hanna #g callen #hetty lange #eric beale #nell jones #light densi #fluff #anonymous prompt #ejzah fanfiction

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huntsman-ash · 4 years

Text

RWBY V8E4 LiveThoughts

And were back at it again, this week with turkey and Italian preserved sausage as a snack! Lets see what RT has for us this week.

Oh, 20 minutes. Are they normally this long?

Oh, wait, the openings almost 2 minutes long. Thats more like it.

And now to Robyn and Qrow. Seems Robyns actually liking Qrow a little bit now.

Guess the cells aren’t secured if a fly got into Schnee’s. This a “Fly on Mike Pence’s face” reference?

Qrow sounds more growly again. Did he get smacked back two seasons by Clover dying?

If by “darkness” you mean “Tyrian” then, yes. Also dude, its Clover. He was shit anyway. All the Aces are shit. Dont feel too bad about him.

And he’s got a point too. If Clover had thought with his head instead of his dick (yes, Im sure they were gonna fuck, Fair Games totally a thing), he probably wouldnt be dead now, and Tyrian would be the one with the sword through his chest.

But of course this is RWBY and V7/8 so things cant go their ways.

Ouch. Deep thoughts of Qrow. And some interesting stuff from Robyn too. I still think I’d prefer hopeandharmonizing’s Briar, though.

Marrows glare gives me life. Hare’s just a moron right now though, but thats no real surprise. She’s immature emotionally. Honestly, shes...kind of like a less bad version of our current President. Always has to be the best at everything, fastest, leader, whatever.

Thats probably why this is grating on her so much. Even though shes TECHNICALLY the Ace’s leader now (I think? Seemed like she was Clovers lieutenant, so by rate of succession she’s in command now)

A glance at the little floating control pad... “Clerance access only”. Okay, that...seems weird. Shouldnt it say something like authorized personell only? Maybe it means access by clerance only or something.

Then Robyn’s name, and then process ID 4591-27. No idea what thats useful for but its there.

Also Marrow seems to be the only competent member of the Aces rn.

Ah now we get to see some of the hills around Atlas. For those of you who have seen my headcanons on the Hunter-Killers and their base of operations, Fortress Academy, its out in these hills somewhere.

The music sounds like a boss fight.

The screen on Ren’s hoverbike reads “HVB Rhino” and “HD5800″ I can only assume HVB stands for “hoverbike” and Rhino must be its name, like how the dropships are Mantas. No clue what the number is.

Also apparently the cold in Solitas is so bad it corrupts machinery?

Ahh, good, some action. Lets see what we get now. Ohh, teamwork. And again, signs that aura allows you to move faster and farther than a normal human

Heh, it really is like a boss fight, like the chase scene at the end of the first Viking level in For Honor.

Oh, and it can call for reenforcements literally out of nowhere? Or is the whole tundra of Solitas just CRAWLING with Grimm?

Yes, yes it did just call for backup, Yang. Maybe these are all forward scouts and ambush units from the Grimmstorm. They did say its the biggest...

Another banger from Casey Lee Williams...

What the hell happened in Solitas to cause this geography? Seriously, its a line of bridges over a gap in two cliffs...that cant be natrual, not that equal in distance.

Man, those bikes didnt even last half an episode...I guess thats fair, they are facing obsurd odds. Or maybe they just want Yang to be the only one with a bike.

And there goes the dropwall. Woops.

Also you can just kinda see it but they bounce off the rock and thats why they slow down. Useful.

Also this part with them falling off the edge reminds me of the ending cutscene of Halo 4s Forerunner level, where Chief flies out of a portal and almost goes sailing off a cliff in a Ghost. Except here, the bike stays on the land and THEY go off the cliff.

I paused at just the right time cause YANGS FACE XD

Holy shit what are Ren’s weapons cables MADE OF? The one atop him is holding him AND the weight of his two teammates. And the one below has both Jaune and Yang. No sign of slippage or breackage at all.

Ahhh there’s the whaleship (Monstra? Fuck it Im gonna keep calling it the whaleship). So yeah my headcanon now is the mountain its right next too is Menachite, where Fortress is.

Oh hey back to the Schnee manor of all things! Does...this mean military invasion of the Schnee grounds. Hey Whitley. Lesbians are here.

Someone make a video cut of Weiss banging on the door to the “Knock knock open up the door its real!” part of that one song.

Hehehehhe. Nice Weiss.

Also convenient about the house staff. Good thing RT doesnt need to animate them or Willow now...

I hope the staff took some of the silverware and some paintings on the way out.

Why is MAY the one carrying Nora.

Ah so now they’re stuck out there with no cell service. Hehe.

Ah okay so the cold in Solitas DOES eat aura. Good, my headcanon still kind of stands.

I wonder, does wearing proper cold weather clothing (like bundled up stuff) help? Or does it cut right through...

Why is JAUNE the one hauling the bike? Isnt Yang the strongest? Or maybe they take turns.

Ahhh inter-team talking. Also, outpost. Hmm. Atlas one? Overrun if I had to guess. Unless he saw Fortress. Which I doubt.

I do love the circling shot here, with the light on Yang’s hair and the shadows on Ren. Its...really artistic and emotional. GREAT WORK RT.

Rens got points. And hes saying stuff I myself have been saying for ages, which is good. I wonder why this is how Ren is now...working with the Ace Ops? Being afraid of loosing Nora? No one tell him what happened last episode.

Also, Jaune’s hair seems to have gotten less crazy in recent episodes. It looks less like a banana and more like a close tactical cut.

Yangs got a point.

Ahhh and now we get to see the inside of the whale.

SALEM FOR THE LOVE OF GOD STOP SHOWING THE FUCK OFF. SERIOUSLY. WE GET IT.

...this is gonna be a really criingy torture section, isnt it.

Someones gonna take that “hound didnt break you” line in the WRONG direction

It is amusing the only thing holding Oscar down is the Hound actually.

Ah so they’re still searching the remains of Beacon.

Also I like how Salem calls them “her forces” as if its anything but a random bunch of expendable monsters. Like, bruh, you cant search anything with THAT.

Ignoring the boring chat between these two, notice how the Hound’s shoulder literally flexes and shifts when Salem touched it. I dont think this thing is solid at all aside from the head and the bone claws...the whole thing is just amorphous Grimm material that can adapt to whatever situation it requires. A specialist unit. A...Hunter hunter.

Yo what the fuck was that. Magic? Huh. Did we actually SEE magic for once in the show? Only took us 8 FUCKING SEASONS...

Doesnt seem to be anything but an energy blast/pain never firing though. I assume his auras still gone, cause its completely singed his shirt, but it didnt do much else.

...Im not impressed.

She really needs to stop touching his face, its creeping me out.

HAHA SHE CANT DO IT HERSELF SHE HAS TO RELY ON HAZEL BEATING THE SHIT OUT OF HIM. I think we know where she stands now, doesnt she...say what you will about her letting Hazel have his vengeance (which is very valid, even he admits hit), but me? I think she A) cant actually beat up on Ozma herself because she still cares and B) shes almost out of magic too. Its weakened as the Gods have been gone and shes been forced to rely on the Grimm and on pawns. Basically, once she and Oz are both gone? That’s it for magic. Remnant will belong to the Grimm...and to technology.

At which point without Oz around to hold them back Atlas is going to go fucking BONKERS and basically ensure the Grimm get pushed back into a corner and then finally permenantly STAMPED OUT.

More Whale insides. Seems like most of its empty grandious spaces. Or possibly muscle? Hard to tell. Either way theres a lot of open air in there...with tight corridors. If you fired a thermobaric warehead into one of the chambers the resulting blastc could possibly blow the doors off and send a raging fireball through the entire thing...Hmm. Filing that away for later.

NEO IS SO SHORT ITS FUNNY TO ME. I know its just positioning BUT SHE LOOKS EVEN SHORTER IN THIS SHOT THAN USUAL.

More note on the Hound; the “flesh” around its right shoulder spike actually sinks down when it stops moving. Its neck shifts and moves too, like the material isnt solid, but recirculating.

I also dont see any eyes. And it looks like it has some kind of...forehead mouth? Def looks like teeth down the ridge of its spine.

Oh boy yeah that...whole thing is basically melting in on itself.

I wont lie; hearing Cinder get berated by CORTANA (and yes, I still hear Cortana in Salem, espeically now that the two characters are kind of one and the same, both megalomaniacal leaders of giant armies, bar the fact that one of them is about a TRILLION times more dangerous than the other because one of them has access to Guardian Custodies and the other one is...well kind of lame and has to have beefy dudes beat up on small children etc) is pleasing to me.

Get fucked, Cinder.

And THERE is Cortana again too.

Neo Marry Popins’s Ya’lling is fucking CUTE. And I love her little smirk.

Wait the whale’s that close?

..oh my...hold on.

...thats it. THATS ATLAS’S AIR FLEET!?!

12 AIRSHIPS? 12? EXCUSE ME!?

ARE YOU LEGITAMETLY TELLING ME THE BIGGEST MILITARY ON REMNANT HAS FEWER AIRSHIPS THAN THE SMALLEST NAVY ON EARTH HAS FRIGATES? YOUR FUCKING KIDDING ME RIGHT? THERE HAS TO BE MORE SOMEWHERE. THIS IS A JOKE, A STRAIGHT UP FUCKING JOKE.

...

No, thats...thats it. Thats Atlas’s airfleet. 12 tiny vessels. I swear it was bigger last season...

...HA! HAHA! HA! Oh, Ironwood, and Atlas as a whole...you deserve everything your about to get. I hope you die SCREAMING, and that when your bodies fall bleeding and shattered to Mantle, the people down there will realize that, no. You cant just assume Hunters will do all the work for you

THIS IS REMNANT. ITS KILL OR BE KILLED. YOU EITHER MAKE A FORCE POWERFUL ENOUGH THAT THE GRIMM RUN FROM YOU OR YOU DIE INSTEAD. ATLAS FAILED. NOW THEY SUFFER.

Emerald stop simpin.

Also that is...the SHITTEST outpost...I have ever seen in my life. My overall thought process of Atlas is...sinking even LOWER than before.

Though it seems more like a waystation. Bed, Dust, some dudes coat on it. Dead heater. Its probably a rest spot for Specialists out in the tundra.

Ren does the emo sit. Lol. Yang even says it. Brood himself to death.

Alright whats this now...something forcing itself out of the tundra?

And thats it for today! Cool ass concept art at the end there too.

#rwby #rwby spoilers #spoilers #rwby v8

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talltales · 4 years

Photo

—HEY NOW, HEY NOW, DON'T DREAM IT'S OVER HEY NOW, HEY NOW, WHEN THE WORLD COMES IN THEY COME, THEY COME, TO BUILD A WALL BETWEEN US WE KNOW THEY WON'T WIN anonymous request!!

NOTICE: violence (murder, mentions of cannibalism), heavy sexual content

“i just painted my nails.”

blankly, she flicks away the blood trickling down her hand and turns it over to inspect the chipped pink polish peeling off with it. her trigger finger relaxes minutely, but her gun remains aimed at the deathly still men at her feet, staring sightlessly into the cloudless, red sky.

“i didn’t think you were that kind of girl.” the click of the clip being slatted into his own weapon accompanies his droll retort. she glances over her shoulder to find yugyeom leaning against the hood of their car, arms crossed loosely across his chest; dark eyes fixed upon the flow of blood across hot concrete.

before it reaches the tip of her shoes, she sidesteps and moves to rifle through the belongings peeking from their pockets. her gun is slipped into the old leather holster at her hip before she pulls a wallet from the closest man, “i was always that kind of girl. it isn’t my fault you never paid attention.”

she spares her companion a look and then turns back to the worn billfold, tossing the plethora of id cards contained into the summer wind, “looks like he was collecting trophies from his kills.”

“how barbaric.” yugyeom hums, impassive. his nose crinkles, however—offended by the emerging malodor of decay, “they reek. are you ready to go?”

“just a minute.”

the few bills contained within are deposited into her back pocket. discarded identification cards bearing the faces of strangers skitter across the road as she makes work of the other male’s wallet and, for good measure, plucks his half-empty carton of cigarettes from his coat pocket.

“got yours?” he slides off the hood of their old black mustang, slapping a palm against the hot metal before opening the driver side door, “because we need to start making some distance if they’ve got friends.”

“you’re a broken record, you know?”

“i’ll stop repeating myself when you start listening.”

the cool flow of a/c when she gets in is a welcome sensation. there are, after all, few luxuries left in a world that has gone to hell and dragged every survivor with it.

her thumb hovers over the radio dial out of habit, turning it on to catch nothing but muted static.

the radio broadcast had stopped four months ago.

where an endless stream of music and advertisements had once been, there was only white noise; broken only by the occasional snare laid by opportunistic hunters. assuming that there was prey left. at least the ones who would believe the theatric cries for help, transmitting on repeat in the early morning hours.

without the loose guide of societal standards, humanity turned on itself. cannibalized the weak. she hits the off button and releases a heavy breath; sinks into her seat as yugyeom starts the engine. what an ugly place to be—

to be left behind in.

“what is it?” his attention is on the road, intent as he navigates smoothly past the still-warm bodies and the last remnants of their victims, innocent things blowing away in the desert wind, “you’re thinking too much.“

“i know. i’m just wondering how many of those fuckers can possibly be hiding out here. how many people they’ve killed, and for what?” her teeth sink into her lower lip, biting down until the dull ache draws her mind back—to the scent of leather and gunpowder and the droll, knowing look yugyeom gives her, “for useless pieces of plastic? money that can only be spent in camps where they’ll be shot on sight?”

one instinct had survived the dissolution of the world, after all. people knew a wanted man when they saw one.

“you know why.” he hums, tapping his fingers against the steering wheel, “i shouldn’t have to remind you.”

“humor me.”

the conversation is an old one, repeated for the sake of soothing what remains of her conscience. stubborn as it is, it comes to life in moments like these; when the adrenaline fades away and she is left with blood caked under her nails and the smell of copper clinging to her skin.

“they kill for the thrill of it.” for her sake, yugyeom answers. the words flow easily, as if he’sreciting a memorized poem; an old story told a time too many. “they enjoy it.”

“i enjoy it.” she confesses, not for the first time. she stretches as the seat allows, arching her back as her fingertips brush the roof; the telltale click of her spine realigning itself brings a fleeting sense of relief. she speaks to the spotted, hazy glass of the sunroof, “i enjoy hunting them and putting them down.”

the blood-red sky is cloudless; speckled only with the brightest starlight breaking through the atmosphere.

“so do i,” he says, and the matter is settled.

again.

—

“so wound up,” she breathes, grazing the curve of his jaw with slow, wet kisses; deft fingers threading through his hair, “i wanted to help,” rolling her hips in a hard grind, she almost chuckles at the way he twitches inside her; the way every muscle in his body seems to tense simultaneously as she darts her tongue out to taste the sweat beading above his collarbone, “but i guess i’m not—should i stop?”

her head spins, body seared by the window beneath her palm and the pressure of the steering wheel digging into the dip of her spine. but it is the ebb and flow of his rhythm that renders her breathless; makes her feel like she’s suffocating the most exquisite way.

she muffles her cries against his throat and centers her attention on the wild skipping of his pulse under her tongue.

yugyeom’s jaw tightens and the next sound that escapes is half-protest, half-groan. she feels the weight of him, pressing into her hips from contrasting directions; his thumbs scoring marks against her skin—his hips canting up to meet hers, languid and deep.

she catches his words after a delayed moment in which her mind stutters to a stop when he brushes a spot inside her that makes her see stars.

“don’t you fucking dare.” it’s quiet, so very quiet, but something in her relishes at the loss of his composure, the rare curse emerging in a growl that tightens the coil inside her. in pursuit of more, she forces herself to stop with him buried as deep as their bodies allow; clenches around him until she can see something in him snap.

it makes it all that much sweeter when he comes apart.

he is, in these moments, the only beautiful sight left in this wretched world.

—

she wears his bruises like trophies, sometimes, lounging in the backseat with her legs folded beneath her and a brush running through her hair.

he watches through the rear-view mirror, as he always does, when she shifts—clad only in a pair of practical briefs and bra. the impression of his hands frame her hips and she takes pleasure in watching his eyes wander before he realizes what he’s doing. because kim yugyeom is always composed, always in control.

except when he isn’t.

and their dalliances are less about attraction than they are about release. she swears on that.

there is a softness to his touch when he isn’t paying attention—in the midnight hours, when their only light is the blue-tinge of headlights cutting through the dark; in the moments before he cuts the engine and his hand slides from the gear-shift to grip hers. “we’re keeping this quick,” he mutters, in a way that is more order than she cares for.

she’s out of the car before he can say anything else, “if they don’t drag it out.”

her sidearm is grasped firmly with her finger hovering over the trigger, her only guide the faint flickering of a campfire in the distance—

the stench of unwashed bodies and smoke.

every step is muffled beneath the howling of the wind and the hush of sand swirling over the earth. hunting is a natural instinct, but stealth is an acquired skill. it is her contribution in their little arrangement, because as graceful as yugyeom is he is impossible to miss.

he follows behind her, well-worn boots crushing the few sprigs of grass that have survived the onslaught of an unforgiving sun. even at this hour, the edge of it lingers on the horizon; an angry crimson-gold.

“you should’ve heard her scream,” comes the distant echoes of laughter from the makeshift camp ahead, beyond the shadow cast by the tents circling the site. they are lit from within by the fire on the other side, revealing silhouettes of figures perched upon folding chairs and the prone half-body beside the fire, “i’d have kept her alive just to hear it again, but a man’s gotta have his dinner.”

it’s an old sight, but it turns her stomach just the same.

her finger itches over the trigger, and she doesn’t have to look back to feel the intent radiating from the man behind her.

two, she holds up the signal and raises her gun while sidestepping into the gap beneath the twin tents. it takes effort to ignore the scavenged woman lying in the dirt; the silver and gold ring on her left hand gleaming in the firelight. someone’s wife.

instead she steels her voice and, assured that yugyeom has his gun trained on the other man, disengages the safety. “on the ground,” it comes out with a hiss; air flowing between teeth gritted so hard she feels it in her jaw.

the sight of the duo scrambling to find her in the darkness is only mildly satisfying. no, the true pleasure only comes when yugyeom fires a warning shot that grazes his target’s cheek, and abject fear takes hold.

“who’s there?” her target. his face is buried in the dirt; amorphous cooked meat beside his head. it takes effort to hold her fire until her boot slams into his spine and the barrel of her gun finds its way into his hair; digs into his scalp.

“you don’t need to concern yourself with that. i’ve got a question for you.”

on the other side of the fire, yugyeom does much the same—nose wrinkling as the man beneath him squirms under his knee; whines incoherently about the gash in his cheek.

“what do you want?”

“you got any buddies out here?” she asks, watching his eyes flicker about wildly, as if searching for an escape. or reinforcements, as the case may be. she secretly hopes for the latter.

“it’s just us,” the man whispers, and she pulls the trigger.

an answering shot rings through the night, and she looks up to see yugyeom wiping blood from his forehead before he walks to the parked pickup truck nearby. he preforms a perfunctory search, pulling a marked map from the glove compartment and a few bills that disappear into the pockets of his jeans.

“quick enough for you?” she questions before she can stop herself, trailing after him with a contemplative look at the container sitting next to the rear tire.

he nods, placid as ever, though she can see the spark of something in his eyes—the promise of another night spent chasing a different sort of satisfaction.

this is, after all, empty work on the best of days.

“the map—“

“for later. to find any stragglers.” she watches as he glances back at the campsite; stares at the blood splattered everywhere. it’s the clenching of his jaw that makes her act upon the persistent urge to act—to reach for the gas container and unscrew the cap.

without a word, she tips it and watches the crystalline liquid soak the ground at her feet. she doesn’t stop until the canister is empty and the site is soaked in the smell of gasoline; each body drenched with it.

he doesn’t stop her.

the only move he makes is toward her, to stand at her side as she fishes a matchbook from her back pocket and strikes it; the flame dances at her fingertip for a moment before she drops it—watches the campfire swell within minutes to a blaze that lights the night sky in shades of gold.

the heat is searing—makes her feel as if she’s burning alive, but for the first time she feels satisfaction with this ugly thing they do.

purification by fire.

only the slide of his fingertips over the back of her hand draws her back; the hesitant way that he laces their fingers together and tugs her back toward the car waiting in the distance. she squeezes, and feels the heaviness in her chest lighten when he returns the gesture.

it has practical purpose; less about affection than it is about comfort.

she swears on that.

“where to next?” for lack of anything better to say, she inquires into the open air, taking her first breath of fresh air.

yugyeom seems to hesitate, and she watches from the corner of her eye as he turns the question over in his mind before he speaks. always thoughtful, always choosing his words carefully.

“i think we’re overdue for a trip home.”

#request #member + prompt #yugyeom fanfic #got7 fanfic

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axels-corner · 4 years

Text

Fall of the moonlark

So this is my first fic that is over 1,000 words Woo!!! the final word count is 1854. this fic is my saddest one to date (1/17/21) and i nearly cried writing it but i hope you enjoy it

So this is an au where instead of one of the Forkle twins dying at the peace summit Sophie does

Warnings: Death, blood, and violence

When I close my eyes, I can still see the strike of the blade piercing you're heart. You had so much to live for and they took it away I blink and I see the life in your eyes fading It only takes a millisecond and then you're gone You were just learning to fly But you had such a long way to fall.

Sophie’s pov

We're running through the castle trying to escape the prison break. At some point Keefe had appeared but I don’t know when or how he even got in the castle. We come to a crossroad one way towards the exit the other away from it another rumble shakes the castle and I nearly lose my balance. I look up to see the beam about to fall on us. I shove Keefe to the left and I dive after him. Just as we make it across a huge beam drops directly behind us.

"Well, no going back now." Keefe says, I nod and pull myself up lending him a hand when I'm on my feet. He grabs it and I pull him up, and as I do, I say

"We need to keep going the castle is becoming more unstable by the minute." We start walking down the path and it's smooth sailing from there at least I think it’ll be.

"Wow," Keefe says turning to look at me "I think we might make it out Foster." He holds up his hand for a high five, just as I'm about to return it we hear a voice growl

"Not so fast." Our heads whip towards the noise and see three people in neverseen cloaks and it looks like another had just disappeared around the corner. The three slowly walk towards us for every step they take forward we take one backwards. The screech of the sword the middle person is dragging behind them echoes of the walls. The person in the center is monologuing and I swear I've heard their voice before but I was less focused on the words they were spouting and more focused on finding a way out of this mess, a window we can break and crawl out of, anything. That’s when I feel my back run into the pillar blocking our exit and I know that we are in some serious, deep, trouble. The two on the sides stop walking but the one in the middle shakes of their hood and takes one more step closer. At least that was what supposed to happen and it was probably meant to be intimating but the hood didn't come off and they eventually grabbed the hood with both hands and yanked it off revealing their face.

"Gethen." I say clenching my job I look around wildly trying to find a solution for this mess. He smiles creepily,

"Ms.," he drags the word out for a couple seconds before saying "Foster." Keefe smirks and says

"Dude your snake inperseration sucks." He crosses his arms and tilts his head to the side. Gethen head whips to face him so fast he probably could’ve beaten the flash in a head turning contest. He also straightened up so he was at his full height. Then I realized exactly what Keefe was doing and I silently thanked him for buying us time by stalling. I look over trying to find the pillar that I saw earlier when Gethen was talking. It might have enough weight for me and Keefe to break the pillar blocking the exit apart. I sneak over to it and try to lift it and it won't budge even while channeling if I wanted to keep quite so that the neverseen members didn’t understand what was happening and wouldn’t kill us. I realize I need Keefe's help. I see a window behind Gethen, I pick up a rock the size of about a baseball, I wind up to throw it and let it soar. About a second later a hear the crash of glass as the huge window crashes down. While Gethen isn't looking Keefe punches him with his sucker punch sending Gethen flying and rushes over to me as the other two neverseen members run over to where Gethen is lying.

"On three!" I yell over the chaos that has erupted "One, two, three!" We pick it up and slam it into the pillar as the cracks form from out of the corner of my eye I see Gethen getting up. We swing the pillar one last time and it the pillar blocking our path explodes, and then I feel a sharp pain threw my heart and I fall to the ground.

Keefe's pov

"Come on Foster!" I yell starting to run. When I don't hear her footsteps behind me, I turn around and see Gethen above her. As he tucks the sword into his cloak the blood drips onto the floor. The outside world fades to only a distance hum as he whispers

"The moonlark has fallen," as he looks down at her,I'm in shock. He raises his arms up and throws his head back yelling so loud I'm sure the council can hear it through the broken window "The moonlark has fallen!!!" I fall to my knees not believing she's gone. My hand covers my mouth and tears well up in my eyes. Gethen steps over her body crouching down so he’s at eye level with me, I’m still not paying attention at this point and just trying to process the she’s gone. suddenly he grabs my shirt so I’m looking him right in the eyes and he looks down at me and growls

"Let this serve as a warning to you kid." He grins so his teeth or showing and hands me a piece of paper he pulls from the cloak with blood on it, "also take that to your little council, the useless lot, and don't forget," he leans close to me before whispering "never underestimate us again." And with that he throws me to the ground, stands up, turns and walks away. I push myself up broken glass in my knees and walk over to Sophie's body. She turns and looks up to me,

"Keefe," she says her voice quiet. I sit down next to her feeling tears run down my cheeks as I take her hand.

"I'm here Foster, I'm here," she looks at me with golden flecks dancing through her eyes. She coughs

"Keefe." she says coughing again I can already feel her life force slipping away

"Yes?" I ask leaning closer to hear what might be her final words. She coughs again and takes a deep breath, or trys to, but starts coughing. Once the coughing fit has passed, she says

"This is my swan song." She cuts me off before I can object, " we both know this Keefe," she sits up a little and I help her.

"I need," her voice shakes "Can you please tell everyone what happened?" She asked and then added on "and please let our friends and my family know that I loved them." I nod the tears running like rapids down my cheeks a soft patter each time one hits the floor. like the rainy days at Alluveterre when the rain ran down the windows and the five of us would run around and have pillow fights and movie marathons, but now those days are over. As she takes her last breath and pulls her hand out of mine places it on my cheek and says "thank you, for everything Keefe, please don't let this break you, you are an amazing friend." I hug her and she hugs me back and I don't know how long we sat like that but as I hear her heart stop and she stops breathing, I start crying, begging her not to leave me and that I need her. I don't know how long I was there but, I must’ve passed out cause next thing I know I was on the beach the adults standing around talking to each other. Almost like static on the TV chattering away. I sit up as Oralie turns around and we lock eyes, she says something to the other councilors before she comes over to me and sits down. We just sit there for a moment before she looks at me and asks

"What happened in there?" I turn away and shake my head feeling the tears well up in my eyes again. She puts her hand on my shoulder and I look at her. She says

"You don't have to tell me, it would help a lot though."

"With what?" I ask. She takes a deep breath and answers

"The council wants to hold a tribunal but if you can tell us what happened or tell me, and I'll tell them we can just have a meeting." I look down at the sand running it through my fingers

"I don't know if I can without crying." She nods

"It's okay if you do." I nod before starting to tell her everything not leaving out any details. She just sits there nodding and occasionally asking questions. When I finish, I reach into my pocket and give her the note. She opens it and holds it close so I cant see what it says when she finishes reading it she holds it between us so that I could read it.

To whom it may concern,

This is the neverseen here, if you’re reading this note it means the moonlark has finally fallen. While I’m sure it was a long battle in the end there’s a time and a place for everything to end and this was the moonlarks time. As I see it the best thing you should do is surrender or we may have burn your cities (or any more of your cities) to the ground to make you a more convincing deal and without that child constantly under foot it will be a cake walk. We expect you to meet us in the wandering woods at 8:00 pm sharp to surrender so that we don’t have to use more violent ways.

- The neverseen’

(ps. If you’re worried about which tree we hope you figure it out in time)

“I wonder which member and which tree there talking about?” Oralie wondered out loud

“It’s probably Fintan.” I say “He has a flair for dramatics to say the least and I recognize his handwriting.” Oralie nods before oushing herself up and saying

"Thank you, Keefe. You should get some rest, before you have to go home"

“Promise you’re not going to just leave me?” the moon was high in the sky and stars where shining as I ask her. She smiles at me and says

“Promise.” Before walking back to the council. And as I lay down and look up at the night sky, I see a star flicker into view almost like Sophie’s resting in the stars.

"Goodnight Foster," I say "thank you for everything you taught me." And I close my eyes and drift off to sleep.

#sophie foster #keefe sencen #kotlc fanfiction

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kuuderekweenfics · 4 years

Text

Coalesced

Well hello everyone~

I wrote a short piece. It honestly took everything to get this out of me. I got bit by the nasty writer’s block bug and drained all the motivation out of my body. But I managed to make it sweet, despite having a cold, empty void of a heart.

Because my headcanon of Levi is that he is actually super warm in the sheets (pun DEF intended).

There is deffff some violence in here. So yeah. Let’s do it.

Sweltering steam plows into you, hot and heavy. The spray of blood misses you by a fraction of an inch as you maneuver your way to the nearest, safest rooftop. No one ever talks about the smell: the putrid decay that emanates from oversized, severed napes. They told you it would get easier to bear over time.

After a few years of wearing death’s perfume, you conclude that it really doesn’t.

You check the gas on your ODM gear. Halfway through and your blades are still intact. You take the small reprieve to stretch out your back before scanning the area for your next move.

It’s surreal, seeing Wall Maria claw at the edges of survival; people run every which way to avoid the onslaught of infiltrating titans.

A surprise attack, you had been informed by your squad leader, Zoë Hange, had devastated the defense. It collapsed under the siege of two abnormals: one, larger than any titan anyone had ever encountered in recent history, and two, an armored titan with incomprehensible speed. Hange had directed you and the rest of their squad to clear as many people into safety as possible. Thankfully, the emergence of titans was concentrated to one location, leaving a large portion to find shelter within the inner walls. But those in the Shiganshina District and around its immediate perimeter were not so lucky.

“Yo, it’s time for us to move out,” Lauda barks. Your mission was to save as many lives as possible, not to eliminate titans. You were told orders were final. You were told not to engage once the call was made to clear out. To continue fighting titans was pointless, Hange had said. Not when there wasn’t a single ray of hope to reclaim Wall Maria.

The hair on your neck raises as you hear the high-pitched cry. You are obedient, by all means a great soldier, but you simply cannot ignore the shrieks made by a child. Two stories below, no older than five or six, is a jumping boy, his desperate attempts to reach you failing with each hop. Your eyes connect with his, distressed but hopeful, and he reaches out his arms up toward the sky, toward you, his only willing savior.

To your agitation, you are not the only one to notice the boy. A titan crawls its way over, eyes hollow, appetite insatiable. A small string of curses come out a huff from your lips. You look over your shoulder, Lauda a distant star in the late afternoon sky among the rest of the survey corps. You drop down in the opposite direction, aiming your grapple-hooks into a crumbled wall and fly forward, then swivel immediately left, aiming steel to neck. Because the titan is a crawler, therefore completely exposed, your kill is quick work. You run to the boy, reaching your hand out to take hold of him, eager to get back. Only, his tearful smile is obscured by large teeth that clamp down on him, spattering your dumbstruck face with his blood.

No. No, no. No, no, no, no.

You can feel the hot breath of the titan, an overwhelming smell of corpse, as it hovers over you. It’s too close. You quickly glance to the right and left but all you see is its flesh.

Think. You have to think. Don’t focus on the poor boy you failed to save. Don’t worry about his blood dripping from your hair and cheek.

Move.

Live.

You shoot your hooks into its eyes and propel yourself up to avoid its mouth. You find purchase on its nose and grab a lock of hair, heaving yourself up for an opening to escape. You know its hands will be on you soon, your muscles screaming as you pull yourself up, up, up, racing against time. An opportunity presents itself. Hooks launch and lock onto the wall and you spring to your freedom.

_____________________

“You disobeyed orders.”

“I was trying to save a kid,” you retort.

Hange pouts, their brows furrow with obvious sympathy, but they stand their ground. “I know it’s hard seeing people die. Children die. Hell, I would have probably done the same thing.” They cross their arms. “But Erwin made the call. You were reckless. Some are blaming your previously pampered lifestyle.”

You scoff. Of course someone would bring that up. It was a constant reminder among the Scout Regiment.

Yarckel, the western-most district of Wall Sina, was quaint and content. While it was not as lavish as other areas of the innermost wall, it was an extremely comfortable place to call home. You squashed your mother’s heart the day you told her you had no intention of marrying an old, stuffy politician and all the resolve to enlist in the Survey Corps. Your dear mother nearly turned into a titan herself with how earnestly she chewed you out, spitting names like “wretched girl” for having “silly thoughts of chivalry” in your head.

But you couldn’t imagine yourself locked away in a gilded cage, ever so often forced to be held by too-soft, weathered hands and bred to deliver another generation of vain and greed.

You’d rather die free.

“What’s my punishment, then?” You concede, there’s no way you’ll get out of this one when Erwin has the last say. Hange grimaces.

Uh-oh. This won’t be good. “Let’s hear it then.”

“Latrine duty. For a full month.”

Your heart sinks into your stomach. Latrine duty is, by far, the worst assignment when living with barracks almost completely inhabited by men. You cringe at the mental image of what you found the last time you were tasked to clean the toilets.

You hold back the bile that threatens its way up as you nod your head. “Anything else?”

“Levi will come in each week to approve your task completion.”

Fuck. “May I ask why a Captain is overseeing my work? Doesn’t he have more pressing matters to see to?”

“I think you know why,” Hange chuckles. “Make sure to get into every nook and cranny. I won’t have you making me look bad. Otherwise, Levi will come badgering me.”

______

This might be worse than facing titans.

You scrub the inside of the toilet bowl in the spot most often neglected: the underside of the ring. Grime flakes off in chunks, and you cant help the gag that makes your way up.

The smell burns your eyes. It could also be the sweat. But you’ve decided against touching any part of your face while you’re forearm is deep in toilet water. When you sit in front of the fourth and final stall, you’re thoroughly convinced the northern barracks’ latrine is utilized by heathens.

You’re busy brushing the hinge of the toilet seat when you hear the door swing open. You’re sure you placed the sign on the door barring entry. “Sorry, still cleaning in here.”

The calm tap, tap, tapping of the boot heel sends a shiver down your spine. This isn’t the footsteps of some eager scout who waited much too long to do their business. You keep your eyes forward, staring at the porcelain which provides a full view of what’s behind you in its shiny, white reflection.

You hear him enter the first stall. Each second feels an hour long. You don’t realize you’re holding your breath until your lungs sting for air.

The second stall is next. Then the third. And finally, after an eternity in limbo, he steps behind you. By this point, you had gone back to brushing, mechanically moving your arm back and forth without the same gusto you had earlier. Your heart threatens to break out of your rib cage with each thunderous beat.

“Are you having a heart to heart with each toilet before you clean them? I thought I’d given you enough time to finish up with these.”

“I wanted to make sure I did a thorough cleaning, Captain.”

He clicks his tongue. “Step aside and let me check your work so I can get the hell out of this dump, Scout.”

You stumble out, scraping your back against the edge of the stall; he doesn’t move from his spot and you don’t dare touch him.

As he inspects the last toilet, you hear the soft “‘hmm” roll from his mouth, and you hope this is a small sound of approval.

He walks toward the exit, but turns to you with a recognizable disgust that scares you more than the stare of a titan.

“Good work. I hope you can apply the same level of cleanliness to yourself,” he rumbles. “Look at you. You’re absolutely filthy.”

You should be angry. You should be boiling over at the insult. Instead, you attempt to keep your smile contained.

And all at once you began to enjoy your moments with the Captain, infrequent as they were.

The small exchanges in the mess hall.

The glances in one another’s direction as you file out of meeting rooms.

The quiet, strained growl in your ear as he penetrates you in his quarters as the moon makes its way over the horizon.

It all happens so, very quickly; Levi’s one-off encounter with you. One second you were discussing various teas and which best suited a savory meal, the next you’re hungrily lapping up the precum from his stiff cock, ever acquiescent and flushed.

You bob your head, each time pushing your boundaries as he hits the back of your throat; every gag only adding to his pleasure.

And before you have the satisfaction of watching Levi, Captain of the Survey Corps and Humanity’s Strongest, unravel in your hands (or mouth, rather) he takes hold of your elbows and shoves you on the bed.

He’s surprisingly gentle. The way he manhandles even your own boss makes you think he would be more aggressive, unrestrained.

And while he does hold you with a vice-like grip that will surely leave your hips bruised tomorrow, you realize it’s to assure that each meticulous thrust hits the switch that lights up your brain, igniting your nerves and sending a wave of pleasure crashing through your entire body.

The heat that burns in the pit of your stomach intensifies as he pistons into you, never losing focus on that area that surely makes you see stars.

And you beg for him to go harder, faster, as you clutch at the sheets desperately and push into him in a fruitless attempt to swallow him whole.

But he’s already there, deep within your core; the pumps connecting all the wires to push you both over the edge.

He sputters forward, his seed coating your walls hot and sticky. It’s all you need, his desire to fill you entirely, to drive you into your own divine pleasure. Your breath hitches with the final pump as you both settle on the bed.

Breathe in. Breathe out.

This is not love. Of course it isn’t. You are no fool. But for a few hours, you allow yourself to be tethered. Allow him to stroke your hair with a fondness that is so pure, so different from the usual Levi.

Your breaths in sync, the seconds of comfort engraved in your mind for the rest of your miserable lives. One fleeting moment cemented in time.

And in a blink of an eye, it’s gone.

So as you stare, wide-eyed and frightened, at the Titan who holds you captive in its clutches, inching forward into its acrid breath, you allow yourself to draw back into the depths of your memory.

Your mind takes you back to that night.

And you close your eyes and smile as you relive each second of the night that you and Levi Ackerman coalesced.

#levi ackerman #levi x reader #attack on titan #shingeki no kyoujin #fanfiction #Smut #aot fanfiction #snk fanfiction #fan fiction

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in-tua-deep · 5 years

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you cant just bring up an au where animals survive the apocalypse and not elaborate?????

v a l i d

okay so in this au, thirteen year old Five jumps and ends up in rubble and ruin and find his siblings and realizes that he is alone in the universe at the end of day

except Vanya didn’t destroy the moon in take one of the apocalypse, instead she was so angry at humanity for betraying her in every way - hey father, her siblings, even leonard in the end - that she decided that humanity didn’t deserve to exist. Her powers were a targeted strike, and they killed every living human before tearing her apart as well

so the animals are alive, the dogs, the cats, the deer, the rats, all left alive

and five is crying and gasping and looking at the dead bodies of his siblings and he hears a bark, and he turns around and it’s dog. it hasn’t been that long since the apocalypse, it knows humans, and it’s friendly, so it approaches this sad sad boy who is crying salt tears and tries to lick them away and be helpful and five is frightened at first because he’s never been around dogs but,, it’s a good dog, a nice dog, and he ends up curling around this dog and just bawling his eyes out

and he follows the dog. he doesn’t have anything better to do. and the dog leads him back to - you guess it, more dogs

and look, they aren’t going to attack him. they aren’t hungry. it’s an unfortunate fact that there is… currently plenty of food to go around, for the meat eaters among them at least, and they don’t even have to hunt it. It’s not a source of food Five could ever touch, of course, but the people of the city are dead so it’s not like they really care anymore

the dogs of the city adopt him, and so do the cats when Five goes out exploring. He gives them good scratches and they like rubbing themselves against his legs. He likes very much when they sit on him and rumble loudly and they’re very soft.

the animals of the city quickly realize that their boy has human hands and can open things, so Five spends a lot of time following intelligent animals and prying open buckled in doors and gates and freeing trapped animals and also opening up cans and other food items that get brought to him because he has clever fingers and can open up things like that

Five talks to them a lot at first. He names them all and can recognize them, grinning and asking them how they’re doing and pretending they can respond to him in a way he understands. He talks a lot, because his is the only voice left in the apocalypse, save for barks and meows and growls

slowly he incorporates those into his vocabulary as well though, as the years pass on. A growl to tell someone to leave him alone, sharp yips when tiny teeth go too far, throwing his head back and adding to the baying howls when everyone is being noisy at night, figuring out how to make the rumble in his chest right back at the cats

he sleeps wherever he wants, surrounded by friends and feeling safe. Puppy piles and stinky breath, kittens pressed into his side with the mother cat curled up next to his neck as he sprawls out. he learns to associate sleep and safety with a dozen other bodies pressed against his own, warm and alive and noisy and beautiful

he still looks for equations, still reads in the library. Sometimes the only times he uses his words anymore is when he’s writing on the walls and explaining his equations to a dog with floppy ears and wise eyes who can help him catch any problems. a bit like rubber ducks and programmers

food isn’t as big an issue as the original timeline. Five learns to hunt, learns to wait and wait and then POUNCE and snap and then he has rat-mouse-bird whatever for dinner! the pack and the colony share what they can and Five is no different, he doesn’t keep all of his prey for himself and often scavenges what is left of people-food as well, also picking out plants and berries and other things to supplement his diet with

It’s not just cats and dogs either, Five learns to whistle-chirp at the birds in the morning and mimic their songs. He likes to sing to them when they sing back to him, it’s a little bit like having a conversation as they change up the tune and mimic one another back and forth, back and forth

Five has a hundred thousand conversations in the apocalypse, but none of them are human

well, only one of them is

He’s old and very close to a breakthrough when the Handler comes for him. He’s lived through generations of dogs-and-cats, his original companions long since passed. He’s a given fact of the pack-and-colony now, there isn’t an animal in the city who doesn’t know him and he them. She comes and she offers him a job, and Five hasn’t used his words in a long time but he knows the promise behind her smile. Knows he doesn’t have a real choice in this matter. If he says no, she will kill him to be sure that he never completes his equations. If he says yes, she will take him away from his pack, his colony, his family. It’s an impossible choice, but Five always did know that he wanted to go back, to save his siblings, he was still loyal-loyal-loyal and cared far too much

so he agreed. he spent a few more brief hours running through the city and whining his goodbyes to his family, hands reaching out and petting fur and bodies as they pressed against him. He grabbed the vanya-book he’d been keeping his equations in and passed it off as sentiment (his old family, the one he still loved so so much, he’d never found vanya’s body just her book)

He doesn’t sleep well in the commission. He would say it was the killing, but it’s not. It’s the loneliness. It’s the absence of a dozen bodies pressed against his own, warm and breathing and noisy and alive. It’s the absence of claws catching in his clothes, of wet noses pressing against his skull, of tiny heads headbutting him when he wasn’t paying enough attention for their liking. He’s so used to noise that the silence is unnerving

he gets his equation, and he seizes the opportunity with both hands. He falls-falls-falls into the courtyard and stares at the faces that he only knows from finding their bodies and he is jubilant, he howls his joy and it takes him a minute to realize that this is not-his-body

(he bets if his friends had been there to listen he would have caught whatever error he made, but the commission took all of his friends away from him)

he throws himself at his siblings with all the simple joy of family reuniting, and it feels right and good to once more be able to press himself against warm-living-breathing-loved bodies and he’s pulling out all the stops to say “i’m here! i’m home! family! i love you!” and he barely even notices that it isn’t human-verbal-words and that he’s rubbing his head against Klaus’s chest and rumbling like he would to greet a colony member after a long absence

The siblings are, obviously, very confused at this tiny-five-in-a-big-suit who is purring and howling and hasn’t spoken to them yet but is clearly so overjoyed by them being there

someone mentions food and Five’s attention is immediately caught and! Kitchen! he remembers the kitchen! his family might be hungry! and Five is a good provider and he’s still kind of caught up in the fact that his family is right there so maybe they’re confused when Five grabs a bag of marshmallows and tears it open with his teeth and then deposits a handful of marshmallows on everyone’s laps before going to town on his own portion. He missed marshmallows! A whole lot!

“Hey Five what the fuck” someone says “can we get an explanation here holy shit”

and Five remembers his mission oops he swallows his marshmallows and opens his mouth and makes human words come out and he asks them for the date. Eight days! Eight days until the apocalypse. He never did figure out what happened, all the structures had crumbled and all the humans had died but… how? He had the eye he took from his brother’s corpse, and a newspaper with the date it had happened, but he hadn’t been able to find much more

and this is a five who knows how to share, he’s spend forty some years (he doesn’t know his age, doesn’t know how long he was there, he stopped keeping track and brushes off that question when asked) basically sharing everything he had with a whole bunch of animals. What was his was theirs and what was theirs was his. So he shares with his siblings. He presses himself against Diego’s side and curls his arm around Allison’s and produces the glass eye and tells them proudly that Luther had it

everyone looks at Luther and he’s like “uhhh what? no i didn’t stop looking at me guys”

and Five frowns and is like “No not this luther, dead-Luther.”

and that does not help one bit

and with prodding Five basically reveals that he jumped to the apocalypse and found all their dead corpses (except for vanya’s! and ben’s! but he knows that ben was dead before now because of the book) and pried this gross crusty bloody glass eye out of Luther’s dead hand and everyone is horrified but Five is nodding and all like “Yes! How I recognized you! Look the same, because it happens in eight days. But we’ll stop it! No one dies!”

and he also presents Vanya’s books which is still stained with soot and ash and clearly beaten up to all hell and marked up with a whole bunch of equations that Five is clearly very proud of and you know what?? suddenly this apocalypse thing doesn’t seem too farfetched because Five is sitting here with vague proof and like, if Five didn’t go to the apocalypse then where did he get this shit and he must have gone SOMEWHERE after that dinner

(they do ask about his age and he looks very put out and is like “messed up! supposed to be older.” but when they ask how old, Five shrugs and is like “grey hair old? achey bones old.” and no one can get more of an answer out of him bc five just,, literally doesn’t know)

and you know what i’m going to say that animals are fucking amazing and that five gets to meet some old friends or that some old friends find him because of his gleeful howling/yelling in the courtyard upon arrival. if animals can see spirits and recognize people through reincarnations then i say they can be chill with time travel

so five goes outside and is tackled by a cat who immediately begins grooming his hair and five is just like !!! it’s mama cat! she was one of the first to find him in the apocalypse! she had babies! does she have babies now? and he’s purring and pressing his face against hers in greeting and his siblings are there like whhaaatttt

and it doesn’t help that he turns around and introduces them and is like “!! Mama these are my siblings! Luther, Diego, Allison, Klaus, and Vanya! this is mama!”

Mama cat eventually exits only to return carrying one of her jelly beans to Five’s absolute delight. He doesn’t remember them all being so small! He introduces the kittens to his siblings as well

one of them he actually named Allison in the apocalypse, and she’d been one he say frequently. They’d evolved over the years from calling her Allison to the more playful name of Allie-cat for the pun though, so that’s what he introduces that particular kitten as and they’re none the wiser

of course, he still leaves the house. But his siblings follow him. Five isn’t going for coffee though, doesn’t care about Griddy’s diner, because if Mama Cat remembers him then maybe -

he gets out of the house and down the street before he’s tackled by a big dog and his siblings shout in alarm and run towards him but they quickly realize that a) the dog is not biting him he’s very enthusiastically licking Five, and b) Five is yipping in laughter and very enthusiastically greeting this stray dog

he actually does introduce the dog as diego earning a baffled squawk from human Diego and Five realizes the issue. After a quick nonverbal consult Five is like “Brother? This is Brother.”

the siblings quietly realize that oof, Five was in the apocalypse until his hair was White (bc he hasn’t talked about the commission yet) which is presumably a long time and he showed up growling and purring and has already introduced them to several animals who seem to be familiar with him and,,, just having some realizations over there

(diego is actually v touched that Five named one of his apocalypse companions after him but he’s not going to admit to that)

and then the hit squad show up and five kills them and Brother fucks up one of them and the other hargreeves quickly square up and also wreak havoc and eventually they’re all back home +1 dog and like “what the FUCK” and five is in a sharing kind of spirit and mama cat is already depositing one of her babies in his lap so he solemnly informs the squad about the commission and that they stole him from the apocalypse and made him heel

(he didn’t talk much in the commission, but they didn’t mind. He’d growled once when the Handler got too close to him, and she’d made a joke about him being a dog and being brought to heel. He hadn’t liked it, but he’d stopped growling and tried to be on his best behavior so they wouldn’t be suspicious of his activities)

basically there’s a lot more information sharing and belief in this au

the squad is like “you know what? we’ll deal with this in the morning. no one goes off on their own until we deal with the fuckin,, time travelling assassins and i can’t believe that phrase came out of my mouth”

and so everyone goes to bed

and five wavers because everyone goes to separate beds and that’s not right, is it? (though if he does think back, he does remember the lonely nights in lonely rooms, of suction cups against his forehead and nightmares gone uncomforted)

and being a tiny bastard is like “well this won’t do right brother?? right mama cat?” and decides he’ll just have to show his siblings the PROPER way to sleep and so grabs vanya and tows her to klaus’s room where klaus drops something looking slightly guilty and five pushes vanya at the bed, brother needs no invitation and immediately hops up which klaus protests, and he’d have mama cat up here as well but she isn’t too sure about bringing her babies up on the bed yet which he understands. and it’s a tight fit because five shoves klaus into the bed as well and climbs in, ignoring any questions and protests, but it’s warm and safe and five actually feels like he can sleep for the first time in a long time

and eventually the protesting dies down when it becomes clear that nope, five isn’t going to be letting anyone leave the bed because it’s sleep time, everyone said so, and so they all settle down eventually and brother is lying half on Five’s leg, heavy and solid, and Five had hooked his free ankle around Vanya’s foot and is pressed against her and he’s got his hands fisted in Klaus’s shirt and everyone is here-safe-warm-alive

and they just go from there. they know about the apocalypse way earlier. vanya says she has to go to her apartment and five is unsure and eventually asks her if brother can go with her to keep her safe and she agrees (and brother HATES leonard the first time they meet and is very vocal about it leading to the cancellation of the lesson whoops)

hazel and cha-cha have far more difficulty finding five this time after five digs out his tracker (which horrifies all his siblings but 100% convinces them he’s telling the truth holy shit)

Five meets more animals he knows/knew though lots of them are actually pets and have humans which are alive!! he thinks that’s neat even as their humans are apologizing for their normally well behaved pets bowling down this 13yr old with enthusiasm and licks and delight

The siblings keep having to remind Five to ‘use his words’ when he huffs or growls or grumbles, and his siblings can’t read body language for SHIT which is certainly annoying. Brother and Mama Cat sympathize with his plight at least.

but yeah honestly maybe the apocalypse is averted by vanya having a dog which despises the very air leonard peabody breathes which alerts five to something hinky and, upon investigation, he finds the journal in leonard/harold’s possession and immediately presents it back to the family like “yes! see! brother isn’t being unreasonable!”

“five did you break into a man’s house because your dog didn’t like him”

i have a bad feeling that at least one animal is harmed in the making of this au and that they sacrifice themself for either five or one of the siblings oof

but yeah vanya doesn’t cause the apocalypse by virtue of everyone trying to figure out how to deal with their semi-feral little brother and his menagerie of animals and the rest of the time travel bullshit that follows along behind him

also orange idiot shows up at some point as well because i’m the maker of this random universe and i say so and five ALSO recognizes him and is absolutely delighted that apparently diego is orange’s human which makes them double family and diego is honestly in shock that orange idiot is sitting on five’s chest and purring like a steam engine because diego has never once heard that animal do anything more than hiss and growl before this day

i haven’t thought through the end as you can tell but hey maybe hazel and agnes end up adopting a nice big dog or five teaches hazel some of the birdcalls he learned in the apocalypse idk i like hazel

five rotates between his siblings for sleeping and they just learn to accept this and accept it if he selects them to dogpile in with at night. the kittens grow bigger because they live in the house now so it ends up being like, three humans, one dog, one cat, and four kittens in a bed each night where there is NOT enough room but they learn to deal because otherwise five just doesn’t sleep

also five learns to take cues from the cats to figure out where ben is and include him in conversations

mr. pennycrumb also shows up at some point idk when

that’s all i got for now but i’ll probably come back to this

inspired by my cat who won’t stop trying to trip me up and headbutt my face and step on my stomach because he loves me

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thevoidcannotbefilled · 5 years

Note

Jm or daisira prompt: “I’m sorry I wasn’t fast enough.”

(I’m doing a 100 follower special!!! Send me prompts :D)

Daisira. Scars. Wounds. Surprising softness. Let’s gooooo~

——

Daisy tries not to look at Basira’s scars.

They’re a complicated matter, as everything in their lives. Daisy herself has no shame in scars, on others or herself. In fact, if a person hasn’t racked up a good scar or two by something or another, she didn’t consider them living enough. Soft skin meant easy lives, and nothing easy ever comes for free, especially in this world of monsters.

But on Basira…well, Basira is different. Before the Buried, Daisy hunted for the rush, the fight, and the inevitable kill. However, Basira is Basira and Basira is hers, and the idea of anything damaging what’s hers makes her blood rush far louder than any monster prancing about. If Basira were to even feel a twitch of fear from someone or something, Daisy would be on them faster than a starving bear after hibernation.

Which is why Daisy hates seeing Basira’s scars. It’s not that she isn’t proud that Basira knows how to defend herself, how to survive. It’s just this logic doesn’t stop the fierce protectiveness that fills in her mind when she sees the shiny scars that mar Basira’s skin.

Because scars at that point aren’t a sign of Basira’s success; no, they’re Daisy’s mistakes, Daisy’s inability to take care of the things that threaten to hurt them. It doesn’t matter how logical it is that Basira would have scars from times she worked in other sectioned jobs. It doesn’t matter that Daisy couldn’t have possibly protected Basira from every nick she’s gained between the Unknowing and now. It just…doesn’t matter. Every scar makes her grit her teeth, and even now, when she tries not to listen, the roar of blood is oh so tempting even if it means she doesn’t have to count any more shiny marks.

But she’s made her choice. This isn’t just about Basira. Isn’t even about Daisy really. That’s the point. Even if it meant she’d fade into nothing but bone only the most desperate dogs would gnaw on, Daisy would not give into the Hunt. She would not hurt innocents for her own satisfaction. Not anymore.

Her choice is harder to understand on days she has to take care of Basira’s wounds.

They sit on the ground near the one of the more permanent beds the post-Unknowing crew set up. Antibiotics, numbing agents, and piles of bandages surround them, and their clinical smell almost drowns out the blood in the air. Basira refused to go to a hospital, and Daisy wasn’t going to make her. Hunters attack when their prey was their most vulnerable, and the smell of blood makes Basira easy to find within the medical halls. No, the Archives, for the evil it holds is their evil, and right now it at the very least offers some protection.

Basira also refused Jon’s help. This Daisy found less wise, but the stony look on Basira’s face when she outright said she hadn’t wanted him here made it difficult to argue otherwise.

(Daisy and Jon would not-talk about it later. They would share a few looks, one bloody the other knowing, and he would offer this brittle smile that let her understand how deep his wounds cut. Despite not losing the world, neither technically won, and she’d wonders how long it would take until Jon would demand to see Martin safe instead of spending his days Knowing he’s upstairs, away from them on his own terms. They would share a space in a loud silence, not uncomfortable, but distracted nonetheless, until Jon would nod to the door. “She’s waiting for you,” he would say, “Have fun on your…date night,” and the awkward little grin he’d give would twist her heart. It’d be broken, but sincere, and it’d make her want to rip it off, in hunting or protection, she wouldn’t know. But she’d clap his shoulder, and a little smile of her own would sneak through when he nearly jumps out of his seat from the sheer force of it. Another look would be shared, but it’s different this time. They smile, and it feels real).

The worst of it is over now. Basira’s stitched up and the bandages are more for pressure than anything. Bright white and practically glowing against Basira’s dark skin, they wrap around her torso in a tight but practiced pattern. It’s not professional, but Daisy does know what she’s doing. Now, she’s just looking for the less pressing wounds.

At least, she’s trying to. She keeps getting distracted by the scars on Basira’s back.

There aren’t many. Certainly not as many that Daisy has, but Basira took off her shirt to let her get the bandages right, and with only a bra in the way, there’s nothing to hide the vast expanse of little scars dancing from arm to arm, and a few down the expanse of her back. Again, mostly nicks, and most of them look natural. But there’s definitely one on her back that is definitely from a stab wound.

Who patched her up then? Was it Martin before the Lonely? Or was it Melanie, angered filled and all?

Did Basira have to do it herself? Was it always there and Basira just never told her?

“Something the matter?” Basira asks, firmly, but not harshly. Daisy blinks, and she realizes she’s been tracing the outer edges of the largest scar. Well, formly largest considering the new one.

It’s easier to dwell on old scars, Daisy thinks. She could imagine pretend scenarios where she was able to save the day with a clinical eye. Strategy without emotion. Plans without context. Scars without impressions.

As gently as she can, Daisy traces the upper part of the bandage. She’s barely touching the fabric, but Basira tenses immediately. Daisy stops.

“I’m sorry,” she says automatically. She goes back to finding cuts. It’s easier.

Basira doesn’t grant her that reprieve. She shifts, and while she doesn’t face Daisy, Basira puts less of her weight in her lap. “It’s fine. Now what’s the matter?”

Daisy pauses, considers the question, and decides no, she will not answer fully. There are too many things wrong to list when Basira’s like this. She’d be shocked that Basira is as coherent as she is, but not much can be a surprise these days.

She cant mention anything big. Not the immediate dangers, but she knows Basira won’t be satisfied with the small ones either.

Daisy doesn’t trace the bandages again, but she eyes them with a frown. “I’m sorry I wasn’t fast enough,” she says quietly. It’s at the hint of what they should be talking about. She can still feel the rush of panic, at seeing Trevor and Julia. At seeing them, with Basira, knives and jutted teeth, ready to tear, ready to hurt-

Daisy takes a breath. Maybe if she breathes enough, her vision would stop going red.

“It’s fine,” Basira grunts our after some time, and both the silence and her tone tell her perfectly well that no this isn’t fine. Because of course it isn’t.

They haven’t been fine in awhile. Daisy doesn’t even know if she’s ever been fine.

Daisy doesn’t reply. Their conversations are left with too many words unsaid nowadays. It’s easy to stay within familiar territory. To pretend that no, they haven’t changed when they know damn well that everything is different. They pretend that they don’t talk with Jon about how exactly different they’ve become. They pretend to be Daisy And Basira because if they are just Daisy and just Basira, they would both be lost in their heads, following the call of calling blood and endless trails.

As long as both of them are alive, they’re Daisy And Basira. And so Daisy after cleaning up the last of the cuts, takes a moment to be just that. Careful not to touch her bandages, Daisy leans forward and presses against Basira’s back and wraps her arms around her neck.

Basira’s warm. So warm. Full of blood and life. Her warmth sleeps through Daisy’s chest and arms, and she can’t help but nuzzle into Basira’s neck for just a little bit. Just enough to feel her drumming pulse. It’s heavy, pumping faster than normal, and if it’s from her wounds or Daisy herself she can’t tell. She finds she doesn’t really care either, both bring a rush at the thought.

Basira on her part is tense. Her breath catches. Even if Daisy can’t see her face, she can imagine the thousands of thoughts running through her mind. But Basira was never much of a planner. She has no strategy other than to act, and as tired and hurt as she is, it doesn’t take long for her to relax against Daisy’s hold and lean back until she’s practically in her lab.

They’re quiet. Breathing. Basira takes Daisy’s hand and stares. Daisy wonders if she’s trying to count the bones that seem to jut out against her sickly skin. Basira holds it gently, and takes a considering look.

She guides Daisy’s hand to her lips, and presses gently. A kiss. It’s just as warm as the rest of her, just as soft, but so much more anyway. It’s feather-like, and faint, almost not there, but it makes Daisy catch her breath because this is hers. The kiss, the affection, all hers, all from Basira.

Even as Basira guides their hands away, Daisy doesn’t breath, too busy trying to memorize the way Basira’s lips moved against her skin and how the warmth blossomed under the single touch in a way far more fitting of her name than she’d ever be.

She only breathes when Basira intertwines their fingers. Hers look so small in Basira’s hand. Too pale. Too gone. But if Basira notices or cares, she doesn’t give an inclination. She just rests their hands against her chest, and gently dusts her thumb across the top of Daisy’s hand. It’s calloused, and there shouldn’t be an affection in them. But it’s Basira, and her palms are warm, and the callousness are not like scars. They’re not signs of a fight, but show dedication in a way that scars can’t. Years of practice can be known just from one look at her rough fingers.

Dedicated is a good word for Basira. And so callouses fit her. They make Daisy smile.

She buries her smile in Basira’s neck. She hears her huff in response. It’s a pleased huff though, and it only makes her hidden smile go wider.

They will need to move soon. Basira needs to rest, and the floor is never a good place to settle after getting stab wounds. There will be talks and discussions, and many things left unsaid in them, and the world will probably crash around them again.

For now, they hold on another, feeling each other’s warmth, their life, their forms, and just letting themselves be Basira And Daisy instead of be thousand other people they probably are at the moment. Scars are hidden from Daisy’s view and Basira can’t mistake being weak for being dead.

Here, there are no monsters. There is no apocalypse. The horrors of the world can wait another moment. For now, they are just simply them.

And it is quiet.

#the magnus archives #tma #daisira #ask the void #the amazing written word #100 follower special #the void's writing #jon and daisy friendship #though it's mostly just a mention of it #you cheated a little maddie but I'll allow it~#LOOK I DID A SOFT #maebmad

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farmhandler · 6 years

Text

In Your Nature

Rating: T

Relationship: Shiro/Sendak

Additional Tags: Werewolf AU, Courting, Forest Sex, Unrealistic Sex

Chapter: 1/1 | WC 8K~

Read on AO3

Summary: Sendak is a lone alpha that decides to court Shiro, a beta from another pack. It doesn't go exactly as planned.

A/N: Commission for @pterodotyl! Thank you again for commissioning me!

Shiro spots him out on his perimeter check and nearly has a heart attack.

The pack rotates through its members for the daily perimeter check around the entirety of the castle grounds. Depending on their speed and diligence, certain members are paired together in different ways.

For example, Keith and Shiro often split the distance and meet in the middle. Sometimes it’s Lance and Shiro, or Keith and Hunk, but never Lance and Keith because they can’t be trusted to do so without either of them turning it into a competition.

None of them work as fast as Shiro and Keith do, and Keith is the fastest of them all—even moreso than Allura.

The fresh winter air surges into Shiro’s lungs while he runs. He’s still on two legs, but it doesn’t take long for his gait started to falter as the shift takes over, forcing him to slow.

By the time he’s on all fours—threes—he’s already covered about a third of the perimeter.

During the springtime, when new growth starts up and spreads across the castle grounds, Shiro makes sure to check every inch and follow each scent trail to its source. But now, with the trees bare of any leaves, leaving wide gaps that are easy to see, he can waste more time.

He loses focus after about a dozen paces, the fresh air and the rhythmic pounding of his paws on the ground making him want to forget all his responsibilities, cast them out of his mind, and just be.

About two-thirds of the way around the castle grounds, he’s considering a sizable pile of leaves in the distance that would be perfect for leaping through when he catches a whiff of something strong.

Shiro’s nose crinkles at the strength of the smell. It’s thick like musk, and most importantly: it belongs to someone.

A few seconds later, he comes to an abrupt stop a few dozen feet away from the biggest wolf that he’s ever seen.

It’s huge, at least twice the size of Shiro, with a thick coat of rich, dark fur. A faraway part of Shiro’s mind notes that the fur is clean; that this person must not be a feral, lonely wolf driven mad without a pack, but his hackles rise nonetheless, and he instantly moves in position, growling ferociously at the adversary.

The wolf’s bright yellow eyes shift over his form, and then he takes a step closer, heedless of Shiro’s warning, and gives his own growl in return.

It’s not like Shiro’s own, which was a warning and a threat. The growl that comes out of his body reverberates through the open air, so loud and dominating that Shiro’s instincts kick in. The urge to drop to the ground and present himself rolls over him, swift and sharp, and his knees buckle.

Alpha. This wolf is an alpha. If Shiro had to guess, he would say the alpha is from a Galra pack, which makes him even more dangerous.

With effort, Shiro remains standing.

He may only be one of the higher betas, but he’s not about to let a wild wolf get the better of him on his own territory.

Who are you, he wants to ask. What are you doing on our territory? Where is your pack? Who sent you?

He’s shifted, so the most Shiro can really do is attempt to drive away the very real threat. Shifting his stance lower to the ground, Shiro digs his claws into the ground and snarls.

The alpha lifts its head briefly, sniffing at the air. Then it moves.

It’s fast—faster than Shiro can react. There isn’t time to get out of the way, so Shiro jerks his head to the side in the direction the wolf is approaching from, snapping at the air, a hapless attempt to delay the inevitable as the wolf comes up to his side, its giant form dwarfing him.

He tenses, waiting for the blow that is sure to come, but then something miraculous happens: the wolf stops short of biting into his flank and instead brushes its snout up against his body, the gentleness with which it touches him shocking Shiro into flinching away, nearly losing his balance.

What the…?

He stars to growl, righting himself, ready for another fight, but the wolf moves to Shiro’s front, the thick layers of muscle hidden under his fur ripple like he means to attack, only for them to press their muzzles together like they’re mates, or pack.

Startled and confused beyond all belief, Shiro rears back, snapping his teeth, and the wolf merely breathes out a huff of air, as if it—he, Shiro realizes—can’t believe that he’s acting this way. Then, before Shiro can manage to even think of a proper response, he takes off in the opposite direction, making it a few dozen paces away before he banks to the left.

He’s leaving, Shiro realizes. That’s the edge of our territory.

Shiro wants to give chase, but the turn of events is so puzzling that he only makes it a few steps before the wolf is gone, his scent lingering, thick in and around Shiro’s nose. He wipes at his muzzle with his paw, and when that proves ineffective he shifts back, naked as the day he was born, and drags his fingers down his face in futile.

Whoever he is, he stinks.

“You mean you saw a Galra wolf? On our territory?” Allura asks him.

“And it didn’t attack you?” Lance pipes in, still carrying his pants in one hand. He was about to shift and head off, but news travels fast, and Lance abandoned his plans the moment he caught whiff of what happened to Shiro. He can hear the sounds of the rest of the pack coming closer, no doubt alerted by Coran or Lance.

“Was it accompanied by anyone?” Allura asks.

“No,” Shiro says, trying not to raise his voice at the way Allura is staring at him. “It—he was alone. Just standing there. Then he brushed up against me and touched our noses together.”

“What the fuck,” Lance says quietly.

“Lance,” Allura says in reprimand, cuffing the back of his neck with her knuckles. Since Allura is the alpha, Lance ducks his head obligingly, but she doesn’t do more than that. She’s busy staring at Shiro, nostrils flaring as she takes in what must be the wolf’s robust scent. Shiro showered already and it’s still clinging to him. He hasn’t been able to get rid of it.

He tries not to breathe it in on the next inhale, but it floods his throat and nose anyway. He shivers.

“The scent is…very strong,” Allura says slowly. She approaches Shiro cautiously, and when he exposes his throat to her, she brings both hands up and rubs her wrist along his scent gland, a temporary solution that does little to dilute the strength of the other wolf’s scent. She frowns, irritated, probably ready to ask Shiro to lie down so she can scent him fully, but turns her head at a sound from her left.

The other members of their pack are running towards them—Keith and Hunk are shifted, while Pidge is running alongside them—smelling like a cocktail mix of fear and worry.

“Lance texted us!” Keith says upon approach, only halfway out of his shift. He stares at Shiro, eyes casting about his form, searching for injuries as he so often does. “Something about a wolf coming onto our territory and roughing up Shiro?” His eyes skate past Allura and land on Shiro, and after he takes a sniff at the air, his eyes widen. “What—what is that smell?”

“I’m okay,” Shiro assures him. He glances at Lance, who shrugs sheepishly. “Lance was exaggerating when he said that. He didn’t rough me up. Actually the opposite, which is why I’m so confused.”

“I believe—” Allura starts, then shakes her head. “Let us save speculation for when we know more. Take me to where you saw it.”

With the threat of a Galra wolf lingering on their territory, the entire pack doesn’t come along, as much as they would all like to. Lance, Hunk, and Keith end up staying to keep a vigilant eye on every corner, while Pidge, Shiro, and Allura go to where he saw the wolf.

Keith may be their fastest, but Pidge has the strongest nose out of all of them. She’s the first to book for where Shiro saw him last, and outlines exactly where the wolf went before Shiro found him.

“It appears like he was just…wandering around,” she says, sounding unsure. “There’s not a distinct pattern to it. And he really smells.”

Allura stands behind her, arms crossed at her chest, tense.

“You said it was alone?” she asks again. She doesn’t look at Shiro.

“Yes. Alone, and not aggressive. Well, not the way I was expecting.”

“Do you think he wanted to challenge the pack?”

“No,” Allura says immediately; vehemently. “No alpha would bother to scent mark Shiro, a beta, if they intended to challenge the pack on a personal level. A kill would have made sense. At the very least, he would have tried to make you submit to him.”

They’re all silent for a few moments. Then Allura shifts fully. She’s lean, but still bigger than most of them, and her coat is white. It’s as much a point of pride as it is a danger. There’s no hiding with a coat like that.

She takes off, scouting out the area, and when she returns, the look on her face is troubled.

“I think he’s a lone alpha,” she says. “His scent is very strong, and there are no other scents that linger, like you said. If he had a pack, I would be able to tell.” She sighs, running her fingers through her messy hair. “I am not sure what his intentions are, but we should double the teams for perimeter checks, and we’ll do it three times a day instead of the one.”

When she meets Shiro’s eyes, she looks even less settled.

“We were lucky,” she says, softly. “You were lucky.”

Shiro breathes in the scent of the alpha and wonders why it feels like a lie.

They run into the alpha on their territory again just a few days later, hanging at its edge. The situation is eerily familiar to Shiro, save for the fact that he has half his pack at his side.

There’s also a deer carcass hanging from the wolf’s jaw. It isn’t small by any means, and must have taken considerable strength to bring it all the way there if he did it while shifted.

They watch incredulously as the wolf waltzes forward without a care, stopping short of crossing too close only thanks to the threat Allura poses, thrust between the pack and the unfamiliar wolf.

The wolf drops the carcass, and then takes another step, nudging it towards Shiro, of all people. He ignores Allura entirely, lifting and bowing his head down at the deer to indicate to it, as if Shiro is blind to the sight and scent of fresh kill.

“This guy is crazy,” Hunk whispers loudly.

“What is the meaning of this?” Allura demands out of shift, when it becomes obvious the wolf won’t offer up explanations unprompted. “Why have you brought this here?” The wolf stares at her, unblinking. Her eyes narrow. “You dare issue a challenge on my territory?”

The wolf huffs, his chest expanding as he breaths something close to a sigh. He then nudges the carcass towards Shiro again, who’s still caught staring in utter bafflement.

“You challenge a member of my pack?”

They receive no answer. The wolf steps back, looking somehow frustrated, as if he has any right to be when he’s the threat. Allura remains halfway through her shift, fur sprouting from her skin. The sight is ungainly, frightening even, but the wolf remains unaffected, staring at her blankly.

After giving the carcass one more nudge, he leaves, taking off in the opposite direction before Allura can pounce after him. She jolts forward like she’s going to try, but at the speed the alpha is moving, there’s no catching him on their territory.

“Damn,” she hisses, once she’s shifted back fully. Then she looks at Shiro, suspicion mingling with her confusion.

“I have no idea what that was about,” Shiro says, insistently. “I swear.”

Allura nods shortly, not bothering to hide the fact that she’s listening to his heartbeat. She trusts him implicitly, but when a lone alpha is acting like that? Anyone would be suspicious.

They discuss it for a while, standing across from the dead deer carcass. None of them seem to know what to do now, Shiro included.

There’s something about the alpha that Shiro can’t quite put his finger on. There’s danger in knowing they’re being watched by an alpha that big, and Shiro doesn’t understand why he cares about their pack.

Or why he cares about Shiro.

“What if he wants to build his own pack?” Pidge suggests. “You are kind of our leader.”

It’s technically true. Shiro is usually de facto leader when Allura isn’t around, and they work well together, but now he feels at a loss.

“I don’t know. Maybe.” He glances at the carcass. It smells like the alpha. His mouth waters.

None of them have offered to touch it; they’re going to have to get rid of it somehow—donate it somewhere. Even if they were low on food, Allura would never take an offering from another alpha—whatever the meaning.

“We’ll just have to wait,” she says, curling her lips down at the deer. “The wolf has not reacted with hostility, so we shouldn’t act rashly. I expect you all to remain vigilant. Especially you, Shiro.”

“Of course,” Shiro says. “I’ll keep an eye out. And whatever he wants, he’s not going to get it like that.”

The alpha shows up several more times, each time bringing another item along with him. It isn’t always fresh kill; sometimes its pillows, made of cotton or other soft material, and one time he brings with him a stuffed animal.

They try to steer him off, but he’s persistent. He doesn’t stop for anything, even the pack alpha acting as a threat, and he can tell it’s pissing Allura off to the point that she’s ready to call on another Altean pack, until the unthinkable happens.

The alpha catches Shiro alone.

He doesn’t know what possesses him to go outside in the evening, during a time when the alpha has never shown his face, but there’s something in the air that he can’t shake; a sensation pulling him outside, and when he goes, just a few dozen yards away from where he dropped off his last gift, Shiro catches him setting something down on the ground.

The alpha’s head whips around, eyes glittering wide in the evening gloom. His heartbeat is rabbit-fast, like he is surprised to see Shiro there, as if he couldn’t have smelled him a mile away.

It occurs to Shiro belated that he’s unshifted.

He’s never seen a Galra wolf out of shift before. Sure, he’s seen photos and the occasional video, but never in person. They’re something of a legend—recluse because of their nature, staying away from humans and sticking to their packs. If Shiro wasn’t certain that it was genetics making the alpha look more furred than the rest of the wolves in the US, he would swear he’s still mid-shift. Shiro sees a flash of teeth, and the fluttering of his hood as two large ears poke out from underneath.

Shiro falters a few steps away, hesitating when he should be going on the offensive, and that’s his first mistake.

Sometimes it’s easy to forget that the man who has been stalking him is not just some lone wolf desperate for company. He’s an alpha, and he’s there for a reason.

For better or worse, that reason is Shiro.

Within seconds, the man has shifted into a wolf, and sprints towards Shiro. He tries to follow up with his own shift, but he’s too late to stop the 200 plus pound wolf from slamming him the ground.

He grits his canines as he’s pressed into the ground, managing to twist his hindlegs underneath the wolf, but there’s isn’t enough space to do more than that. The wolf is heavy, the weight of his scent settling over Shiro, filling his nose, mouth, and the space inside his head that he has been making with each individual gesture.

Shiro has been trying not to breathe it in, to deny it, but only a fool would fail to recognize signs that point to the obvious conclusion.

After a few minutes—maybe the wolf is trying to decide if he’ll make a break for it—Shiro feels the weight shift off him slightly and he breathes in deeply, inhaling the cool air.

Something soft and warm is laid over his body. Shiro’s hind-brain doesn’t understand what it is, and so he yelps, writhing useless for a moment as it becomes tangled around his legs.

There’s a deep growl from his left. Shiro stills on instinct.

He’s not your alpha, he reminds himself. Don’t submit to him.

He shakes himself free of the silent command and twists his head, blinking unseeingly at the fleece blanket laid over the lower half of his body.

The turn of events is so puzzling that Shiro shifts back into human form, just so he can process what’s happening with a clearer head. The alpha is standing next to him, looking at him expectantly, and he’s just laid a heavy fleece blanket over Shiro because…

He picks up the blanket and holds it up to the light, examining the make. It looks like a handmade twist-tie blanket, like the kind Lance’s grandmother made him last Christmas. It’s ridiculously soft to the touch, and it smells like the alpha rolled in it for a while.

“Are you…” Shiro swallows, twisting the blanket between his fingers. “Are you…?”

The wolf’s weight settles into Shiro’s side. He’s still shifted, and Shiro can sense the pleasure oozing out of him.

It isn’t like Shiro didn’t realize what it looked like the alpha is doing. He knew what it looked like, but he could hardly believe it. Wouldn’t believe it. It didn’t make sense. That a lone alpha would take an interest in him, some beta from another pack, and go to such dangerous lengths just to get his attention seemed foolhardy at best, and insane at the worst.

The weight changes and grows heavier. Shiro freezes, but it feels like his brain is moving slow as molasses, refusing to react in time as the wolf moves overtop of him, pushing his nose against Shiro’s cheek. His bulk settles over Shiro’s legs, trapping him there underneath the fleece blanket.

Like this, he can’t shift without injuring himself. The alpha must know this. In the back of his mind, Shiro thinks briefly about how furious Keith would be if he saw how easily he had let himself get into this position.

He stills again when the alpha drags his nose over Shiro’s throat, scenting him.

“You’re courting me,” Shiro breathes, the words rasping past his lips. The alpha growls, the sound so low and dangerous with promise that Shiro feels it rumble through his body. He shivers, trying to decide on his next move. He’s not far from the pack house. If he can get the alpha off him, he could get close enough to scream for help.

He can feel the alpha’s heartbeat, thudding steadily in his chest. Heat is pouring off him in waves.

He starts low on Shiro’s neck, brushing the base of his throat before traveling up to his chin. Shiro’s hands come up to brush the fur on his chest. He breathes in the alpha’s scent, and just like every time before, it goes straight to his head.

Instead of the fear and apprehension that he knows he should be experiences, a wave of a lust rolls over him, settling hot in his gut. Shiro splays his fingers over the soft mass of fur. Teeth scrape over his jugular, followed by the alpha’s warm breath.

Shiro’s throat bobs as the wolf shifts overtop him, and then suddenly Shiro is staring into the face of a man again.

His eyes are even brighter than Shiro remembers. And the way he’s looking at Shiro is reminiscent of the way he felt when the alpha offered them fresh kill, unreasonably tempted by the sight of something fresh and bloody planted at his feet.

Relaxing deliberately, Shiro waits for the alpha to loosen his hold before he makes his move. He focuses on his shift, forcing himself to hold back, using it as additional strength so he can grip the man by his shoulders and shove him at the ground. Shiro pins him there, struggling not to shift fully as the alpha bucks. He needs to be able to speak.

“Who are you?” Shiro demands. His prosthetic is lying uselessly on the ground after his shift, but he knows how to hold his own without it. “What do you want with me? And with my pack.”

The alpha jolts under him, and Shiro plants his feet, digging his claws into the dirt. Alphas can’t stand being held down like this. A real alpha would never have let Shiro get this far in the first place, which either shows that this alpha was really that distracted by him, or he’s a shitty alpha.

Judging by the way that the alpha forces him off a second later with ease, a fierce smirk on his face, Shiro is tending towards the former. He rights himself, moving into a crouch, the shift rumbling under his skin. The way that the alpha is twitching, fur lining the length of his body, he’s barely resisting it himself.

“Sendak,” the alpha says, and it takes Shiro a second to realize that’s his name. His voice is a deep and lovely timbre. His hair is dark, and he’s muscular. His wolf is huge.

Basically, he’s exactly Shiro’s type, if a little more hairy.

“You have not accepted any of my gifts,” Sendak continues. He sounds irritated. Put out. Shiro wants to laugh, but they’re just a few feet apart, poised to fight, and Shiro can smell Sendak’s arousal, even more potent than his natural scent.

Sendak waits for his reply.

“You’re courting me,” Shiro repeats, because he doesn’t know what else to say when Sendak is just staring at him. “You realize that you’re intruding on my pack’s territory by doing this, right?”

Sendak snorts. “Your pack,” he says, his tone of voice indicating just what he thinks of them.

“Hey,” Shiro says in warning. He goes to say more, but then he’s made aware of multiple scents coming up fast. They’re followed by voices.

Shiro looks over and sees Keith and Allura running his way. By the time he looks back towards Sendak, he’s gone.

“You’re sure you’re okay?” Keith asks for the thousandth time.

“I’m fine,” Shiro tries to assure him. Keith doesn’t look like he believes it. “I’m serious! He just put this blanket over me—” he gestures to the blanket, wrinkling his nose for effect— "and left when you all came running.”

In his retelling of the events, Shiro left out the part about being scented and having the wolf literally on top of him. It would only infuriate Allura, and she would demand a pack scenting which Shiro really doesn’t see as necessary at this point.

It’s not because he likes Sendak’s scent. It’s instinct that makes wolves attune to the scents of their packs, and Sendak is not pack. That’s all there is to it.

“That blanket really stinks,” Lance says, plucking at one of the tied ends cautiously. “Is it—is this handmade?”

Lance sounds amazed and disgusted all at once. Shiro’s fingers twitch with the urge to bring the blanket closer.

“Yeah,” he says. Allura’s eyes narrow, and he realizes he doesn’t know what face he’s making.

“He went all out, huh?” Hunk says. “This is luxe fleece.”

“It’s what fleece?”

“Come on, Lance, you’ve gotten like five of these from your grandma. That’s the good stuff! The soft expensive fleece.”

Shiro looks down at the blanket still clutched in his hands and strokes his fingers over the fleece. It is soft. It would make the perfect nest blanket.

“It’s a shame we must get rid of it,” Allura says, quiet enough that Shiro almost misses it.

“What?!” Shiro barks. The paladins all look at him and he flushes. “Sorry, I was just—it seems like it was expensive to make. Couldn’t we just…wash it?”

Allura frowns, unused to Shiro so blatantly disregarding pack mentality.

“You know we can’t keep it. It was from another alpha. If it was a gift from his pack, that would be one thing, but it’s clear that his intentions are to try and entice you into his pack. We cannot accept it.”

“Yeah,” Shiro croaks, “I know. Forget I said anything. I wasn’t thinking.”

Allura smiles at him, her expression softening. She runs a tight ship, but she wants him to know that she cares. He returns it, and when she reaches for the blanket, he presses it close to his body, hoping his expression doesn’t betray him.

“This is my mess,” Shiro says, holding up a hand when her brow furrows. “It’s my responsibility, so I’ll take care of it.”

Trying to stop himself is an exercise in futility.

Shiro doesn’t toss out the blanket, not by a long shot. He takes it into his room and then can’t stop himself from thinking about the way it might look with all the other gifts that Sendak tried to leave with him, creating a nest.

His wolf rustles under his skin, eager to expound upon the idea. A nest.

Shiro has always shared his space with others. The castle, they call it, because it is the pack’s place. There’s a pack nest, too, with comfortable cushions and couches that are well worn and smell like pack, but Shiro has never had a nest of his own.

He doesn’t know anything about Sendak, other than the fact that he’s an alpha—likely from a long line of purebred wolves. It doesn’t mean much in modern society, but Shiro thinks about the size of him, the way his eyes glittered in the low light, and then he’s shoving his face in the blanket before he can talk himself out of it.

He leans against the wall and goes lax, imagining for a moment that Sendak courts him—properly courts him, even joining their pack.

Then he thinks about the teeth near his throat, and suddenly he doesn’t want a proper courting.

Shiro has to set down the blanket eventually, because the scent is very strong, and if he doesn’t get rid of it, people are going to get suspicious.

He shoves the blanket deep in the back of his closet, with a few air fresheners on top, and then he takes a thorough shower, trying not to think about the memory of Sendak lying on top of him.

Shiro is just doing this to send the alpha away again. That’s why he doesn’t alert anyone else that he’s back, and it’s also why he doesn’t shift—so he can express how much he shouldn’t be there.

“How many times are we going to go through this?” Shiro says, planting his hands on his hips. “You can’t be here.”

Sendak ignores his warning completely and walks up to him, arms heavy with what is presumably another gift. There are three hefty bags, and they smell a lot like jerky. Deer jerky.

“Did you cook this yourself?” Shiro asks, before he can help it. It smells really, really good. Shiro loves deer jerky. Not that Sendak could possibly know that.

“It’s for you,” Sendak says, and then dumps them in his arms without preamble. Shiro sputters, both because of the sudden weight and the fingertips that trail brazenly up and over his forearms, stopping at his elbows.

“You’re…not very good at this, are you?” Shiro says, trying to ignore the way his face is slowly flushing red. Sendak growls low in his chest, but it isn’t an unpleasant sound. Shiro swallows.

“It’s gonna take a lot more than that to pull me away from my pack,” he jokes. Maybe it isn’t the right move; Sendak’s eyes light up, and Shiro shifts the bags over so he can raise a hand. “Can we—let’s hold on a second. Let’s start over. I’m really confused right now.”

Sendak doesn’t move away.

“Your name is Sendak. I’m Shiro.” He takes a breath. There’s no point in beating around the bush. “Why are you courting me?”

Sendak seems to consider his words a little more carefully then, but his answer is leaves something to be desired.

“Your scent is unlike any other I have tasted.”

One of Sendak’s hands lands on his waist, the other on his ass, and pulls Shiro flush, trapping the deer jerky between them.

“Whoa!”

“I knew I had to have you,” Sendak purrs, raising one hand to cup Shiro’s cheek. He should resist, but instead he stays frozen as Sendak’s fingers trail down past his throat.

“I have a pack,” Shiro says quietly. His mouth is watering from the combination of Sendak’s scent and the food. His wolf feels restless inside him. “I wasn’t serious when I said that. I’m not going to leave them.”

“I know,” Sendak says. He doesn’t sound upset, which is promising. “I am under no misconceptions about your loyalty. What I want is not your pack, nor another, but you.”

“But I—”

Shiro stops.

“You—?” Sendak says, prompting him.

“Shh.” Shiro holds up a finger and Sendak stares at it, blinking. The voices are far off, still distant, and the wind is blowing in their direction, so they won’t have caught onto Sendak’s scent yet.

He looks down at the bags in his arm and into Sendak’s handsome, rugged face and makes a very stupid decision.

“Come on,” Shiro hisses, dropping the bags and taking Sendak by the wrist. He pulls once, twice, and then the third time Sendak finally catches on, moving to follow.

Shiro doesn’t have a destination in mind. The only thought running through his head is to get away from his pack and somewhere they can talk.

Why? He’ll figure out that part later.

Shiro sprints like his life depends on it, letting go of Sendak’s hand so he can run faster. The air is frigid, but pleasantly so, burning in his throat as they dash through the trees. He doesn’t bother to look behind him to see if Sendak is following; the heavy huff of his breath, coming from directly behind Shiro is proof enough.

A laugh spills from Shiro’s lips when he nearly trips over a cluster of thick roots. He can’t believe he’s actually doing this.

He grins back at Sendak, who’s staring at him like he’s seeing something new.

Then Shiro is a wolf, and he takes off towards the outer edge of his territory, daring Sendak to give chase.

A growl sounds off behind him. Shiro digs his claws into the ground, propelling himself forward. He isn’t as fast as Keith, nor is he as big and brawny as Sendak, but he knows his way around these forests and their territory. He weaves around the trees and jumps over the thickest roots he can find, hoping that it will slow Sendak down.

Based on the heavy pound of feet closing in on him, it isn’t working.

Shiro waits until he feels Sendak nip at the end of his tail, then whirls around to face him. He means for it to be playful, snapping his teeth at Sendak, keeping him at bay, but he doesn’t account for how close Sendak really is until he slams into Shiro and they both go tumbling.

Shiro cries out, helpless as he’s crushed underneath Sendak’s weight. He expects him to move off Shiro, and stills, shocked as Sendak’s teeth settle over his throat. His weight shifts, then settles, pinning Shiro down to the ground.

Heat curls in Shiro’s gut. He digs his paws into the ground, trying to get some traction so he can buck Sendak off of him.

Sendak thrusts against him once, twice, and the third time, Shiro whines, trying to wrench his head out from under the threat of his sharp canines.

The following growl that comes out of Sendak is deeper, and more dominating than Shiro has ever heard. Then he thrusts twice more against his backside, shoving his hindlegs up underneath Shiro’s.

Submit, he may as well be screaming. Submit to me.

Shiro wants to. He wants to, but Sendak isn’t pack, and he’s fighting against every instinct telling him to go wild.

Eventually, when Shiro has breathed in enough scent to completely overwhelm him, and his legs begin to tremble from the strain of staying so still, he collapses into the ground, lowering his head in silent submission.

Sendak scents him aggressively, rubbing the side of his cheek over the back of Shiro’s neck and licking the fur around his shoulders. His pack is going to throw a fit when they smell it on him, but that thought is far from Shiro’s mind as Sendak licks and licks, keeping it up until Shiro wriggles out from under him, shifting back into a human.

He’s barely blinked back into a more human awareness when Sendak’s very human mouth latches onto his shoulder. He grips Shiro by the hips, and Shiro realizes with a jolt that they’re both naked, and there’s a significant bulge pressing into his backside.

“What would your alpha think, seeing you like this?” Sendak muses, leaning back. He thrusts his cock in the crease of Shiro’s ass, grinding it roughly, like he intends to get off like that. If he did, it would mark Shiro more than his scent ever could, and while Shiro is insane for even considering this, he isn’t just going to sit by passively by Sendak gets what he wants.

“Are you going to fuck me, or not?” he asks, relishing in the way that Sendak stills, his cock giving a solid, distinctive twitch. It feels gigantic, and when he glances behind him, he’s rewarded with the sight of the head peeking up over his ass.

Shiro’s mouth waters. With his pack, it’s hard to find time for himself, and even harder to find it with someone else. That, and he doesn’t always trust himself not to accidentally shift during sex, so he’s been refraining.

“I was not aware you were…willing,” Sendak says carefully, "to go to such lengths."

“Yeah,” Shiro breathes. He shivers, and takes a moment to reconsider the insanity of the situation he’s in. A laugh escapes him before he can help it. “I really shouldn’t be doing this. My pack would kill me.”

One hand glides over Shiro’s hip, while the other presses at the back of his neck, pushing his head down towards the ground. His touch is gentle, but firm, maneuvering him into position and spreading his legs. Presenting him.

Shiro’s heartrate kicks up a notch. He could move—he should move. Presenting in front of another alpha, let alone an alpha that isn’t pack?

He was introduced to his pack under life-or-death circumstances that ended up saving his life, so he didn’t have to go through the same rituals that some packs still employ. He was immediately accepted.

Sometimes he would wonder what it would have been like—how he would have had to prove himself.

“Forget them,” Sendak murmurs, as if reading his mind. Shiro can barely recall what he said earlier as Sendak covers the length of Shiro’s body, pulling their hips flush. He starts slow, grinding his cock between his cheeks, then up and over the curve of his lower back.

Sendak is so much bigger than him. Shiro's breath comes out sharp and unsteady, and he doesn’t realize how much he’s tensed up until Sendak pulls away and kneels between his legs, parting his cheeks with his thumbs.

Fingers tease at his hole. Shiro ducks his head, staring between his legs where his cock is hanging, half hard from the events. Sendak’s is still mostly soft between his thighs, but it’s big.

“You're certain?" Sendak asks him.

"I could do this alone," Shiro says, half-hearted in his threat. It seems to work: Sendak rumbles low in his throat, leaning forward, and then Shiro feels his breath ghost over his hole and squeezes his eyes shut. He had no idea how Sendak plans to make the huge length he saw earlier fit inside him with nothing to pave the way—until something wet and warm passes over his hole.

“Fuck,” Shiro breathes, “are you—?”

Sendak’s tongue is wide and warm. He presses it flat against his hole, dragging it over and around his rim, laving it with attention. Gently, at first, and then with more pressure, and Shiro’s knees twitch, moving inward on instinct.

He bites on the end of his thumb when Sendak pushes his tongue inside, and a low moan works up into his throat when he thrusts it in. Shiro shifts his stance, and Sendak—anticipating some kind of move he doesn’t approve of—growls, digging his nails into Shiro’s hips, screaming alpha, alpha, obey.

Shiro stills, his heart pounding.

Sendak starts slow, licking Shiro to mark him, to bury his scent so deeply that it will take weeks to fade, but then he starts fucking him with his tongue, tugging Shiro’s ass closer so he can wrap his mouth around him and draw out the sounds Shiro is so desperately trying to contain.

At one point, as Shiro’s legs are starting to tremble from the strain of maintaining his position and being eaten out so thoroughly, Sendak reaches down between his legs and finds his cock, giving it a few cursory, exploratory tugs before he slows, stroking it from root to tip, all the while he keeps loosening Shiro up with his tongue.

“Please,” Shiro sobs, tugging at his hair when Sendak thrusts his tongue deep. He strokes Shiro's cock simultaneously with his other hand, teasing at the head with his fingers, smearing around his precome. All the while he doesn't let Shiro move, holding him still each and every time his hips jerk away. “You’re killing me, oh my god.”

The pressure of Sendak’s tongue disappears, and then his breath ghosts over Shiro’s hole.

“Patience. You can’t handle me all at once.” He pauses, teeth scraping over the curve of his ass. Shiro feels his thumb press in at the edge of his rim, rubbing and circling before he pushes it in with ease. Another soon joins it, and before long, he's fucking Shiro with his fingers, occasionally adding his mouth and tongue into the mix.

“I’m a werewolf. I’ve got high—” Shiro’s breaths stutters as Sendak’s fingers brush his prostate. “H-high pain tolerance.”

Sendak ignores him, focusing his efforts on getting Shiro used to the thick girth his fingers provide. While it’s appreciated, and it feels nice, Shiro wants to be fucked. Spreading his legs and lowering his head to the ground, he presents himself as enticingly as he can—as much as he dares to. Which, considering the circumstances, is a lot.

“Sendak," he says, adding in a needy whimper, hoping it'll hit the right buttons.

“So needy,” Sendak purrs, sounding pleased. His voice is velvety and smooth, and it lowers even further as he speaks, words turning to rumbling wave in his throat. “You’re submitting yourself so well. Very good.”

Warmth cuts right through Shiro. He closes his eyes again, holding back on a whine when Sendak grabs his hips and starts thrusting his cock against his hole.

“I want to mark you like this,” he admits, rutting harder now, sliding wetly across his tailbone. The head of his cock catches every so often, but he doesn’t press in just yet. “I want your pack to know who’s claimed you.”

“You haven’t claimed me yet,” Shiro mutters brazenly, and he’s rewarded with the bulbous head of Sendak’s cock pressing into his hole. Shiro groans, relaxing as best he can, and when it pushes past his rim, he lets out a shaky exhale.

It’s not so bad; the burn barely registers, and it’s wet, meaning Sendak must have been really turned on. Shiro’s heard about the differences of galra wolves and the rest of them, and as Sendak slowly works his fat cockhead inside Shiro, it seems like one must be true.

His eyelids flutter shut when their hips meet, letting out a pleased hum. He feels so full, and the base of Sendak's cock is flared just slightly enough for Shiro to feel it.

His knot. He has a knot, because he’s a natural born wolf and an alpha.

“Fuck,” Shiro breathes, drawing out the word slowly. Sendak’s mouth passes over his shoulder, lips pressing just enough to tease.

Shiro’s entire body trembles at the first thrust. Sendak’s mouth remains close to his ear, a low rumble sounding each time he buries himself deep. Shiro’s only half paying attention, focusing solely on Sendak’s thick cock working inside him.

“Fuck,” he says again, because he can’t articulate what it’s like to be fucked like this, out in the open, where anyone could find them. And he’s an alpha. “Fuck. God, you’re cock—feels really good. ‘S big.”

Sendak pauses, rolling his hips in a slow grind, pushing the thick root of his cock up against Shiro’s prostate with a squelch. Shiro squirms, fingers crumpling up leaves under his hands.

“You wouldn’t prefer one of your pack?”

Shiro shakes his head; it’s not just that he would never have sex with any of them, but also because—because of who Sendak is.

“No?” Sendak sounds smug when he pulls out smoothly, and then snaps his hips, driving into Shiro deep, then setting a brutal pace. Shiro’s moan is sharp, and sounds shockingly loud in the quiet outdoors. He loves getting fucked, and he’s never been good at exercising self-control.

Sharp claws dig into his hips, and then he hears an inhuman growl from behind.

Neither is Sendak, apparently.

Pushing away the fear that tries to claw its way into his chest, Shiro reaches back, finding fur sprouting along the back of Sendak’s hand. As he fucks Shiro, his thrusts become rough and erratic, pounding into him unevenly, as if he has no other goal than to chase his pleasure.

The fur becomes thicker. Sendak’s legs lengthen behind him as the shift begins to take over, growls mixing together into a wave of deep, rumbling static.

He’s losing control.

“Oh, god, don’t shift,” Shiro warns him, but he’s breathless with want. His eyes roll back as Sendak gives him several sharp, punishing thrusts, lifting him by his hips. He’s gotten big enough that Shiro’s toes drag back across the forest when he jerks him back.

The new angle buries him deep. Shiro is half standing now, hands reaching to brace himself on the nearby tree while Sendak pounds into him, growling like there’s something nearby posing a threat.

Heat races up and down Shiro’s spine, and his wolf is more restless than ever. He’s sweating bullets, trying his best to resist his own shift clinging just under his skin. It would feel so good to let go, to fold in on himself and let his instincts take over. Even uninflated, Sendak’s knot feels gargantuan. Shiro is just glad that Sendak has a lot of precome, or things would hurt much more.

“God,” he whines, claws scraping down the tree. He starts jerking himself off with his other hand, pressing his thumb against the vein with enough pressure to drive him right to the edge. “Harder.”

Sendak grunts with effort, his next series of thrusts so fierce that Shiro has barely stroked himself a dozen times before he comes, his entire body going wire-tight. Sendak doesn’t stop, but he slows enough to grind his knot up against Shiro’s prostate, drawing out another trembling moan.

Sendak pulls out after Shiro has finished coming, leaning back just enough to fist furiously at his cock. He's still furry, clearly struggling not to shift, and Shiro is surprised by how attractive he finds it, watches the way his clawed hand glides over his cock appreciatively. Then, a minute later Sendak starts to come, and unsurprisingly, he aims it at Shiro, covering his abdomen and his thighs in come.

Shiro blinks at the mess, but doesn’t have the strength to be angry about it. Not that it would matter, after what they just did. A little more of Sendak’s scent isn’t going to change anything in the long run.

At least he didn’t come inside me, he muses, lips twitching. It’s hard to feel relieved when he just had sex out in the woods with another alpha outside of his pack. Reckless doesn’t even come close to describing his behavior.

Shiro’s legs are still trembling when he tries to take a step. He nearly stumbles, but then he feels Sendak’s claws dig into his side, holding him steady.

“Are you well?” Sendak asks, pushing him to rest against the tree.

“I’m fine. Just a little shaky,” Shiro replies. He looks up at him.

Reckless or not, he made the decision to do this; he has no one to blame but himself.

Feeling foolish and bold, Shiro grabs the sides of Sendak’s face with both hands and brushes their noses together.

“Payback,” Shiro says. He’s still breathing hard, and as Sendak’s hand moves near his throat, just over his sternum, it hitches, catching on the end of a breath.

“You have not done anything I expected,” Sendak admits, moving his fingers slowly. His eyes flick down, and Shiro let his own gaze wander, skating over toned abdomen muscles and his softened cock. “I certainly did not expect you to bring us to this part of your forest, away from your pack.”

“You don’t know anything about me,” Shiro says. It feels like the wrong thing to say, even though it’s the truth.

Sendak’s fingers settle over the base of his throat. He has one arm wrapped around Shiro, holding him close. He could break away, but he’s tired, sore, and freezing his ass out in the cold. Sendak is warm.

“I don’t,” he admits. “Tell me, Shiro, where did you store the blanket?”

“Did you make that yourself?” Shiro asks, avoiding the question. Sendak’s fingers twitch. “It was pretty nice.”

“Where,” Sendak says. Shiro doesn’t answer, and Sendak growls, leaning in close. It’s ineffective, as far as intimidation goes. Sendak just made it clear that he wants to shove his dick up Shiro’s ass at any opportunity.

They stare at each other, and Shiro thinks about telling him off. He thinks about letting Sendak know that his attention isn’t needed and it’s only going to dig Shiro into a deeper hole.

Instead, he leans forward and kisses him.

Sendak goes still, shocked into silence at first, unresponsive to Shiro’s soft press of lips. Then the spell breaks, and he doesn’t hesitate to return his kiss, moving his palm to the back of Shiro’s head to hold him steady.

For a while, the only sounds are the smack of their lips and the birds singing high above their heads. Sendak’s hand slides into Shiro's hair, tugging lightly at the strands, and he moans into his mouth, sliding one hand up and down his muscular chest. Sendak is a really good kisser. That, or Shiro’s still feeling the effects of a good orgasm.

He only breaks away when he steps on a twig and nearly punctures the underside of his foot.

“Crap. Ow.” He rubs the bottom of his heel, making sure the skin hasn’t split before he straightens and faces Sendak, who’s staring at him like he wants to eat him.

“I should—go,” he says, crossing his arms. “My pack will probably find me soon. I’m shocked they haven’t yet, to be honest.”

“Maybe they were leaving us unbothered,” Sendak says, sounding vaguely hopeful.

“Not likely.” Shiro smiles at Sendak’s scowl. “You realize that I’m not joining you, right? This was nice, but I have a family. A pack.”

Sendak scoffs. “I said I wanted you, not your pack. You may stay with them as long as you like.”

“Oh, I may?” Shiro takes a step back, suddenly wishing he hadn’t shredded his clothing when he shifted. “Why didn’t you just explain yourself when you came by all those times? You know you can’t speak when you’re shifted.”

“I would not make myself vulnerable that easily.”

“But you were willing to show up at all,” Shiro points out. “Why?”

Sendak simply looks at him, and then Shiro realizes exactly what he’s asking.

“You don’t even know me,” he says, steadily ignoring the heat crawling up his cheeks. “Why would you go to so much trouble for me? I’m just a beta.”

Sendak shrugs and looks away, like it’s no big deal, and Shiro wants to press, but he doesn’t know how long he has until someone finds him.

“Well.” Shiro rubs his arm, unsure how odd it would be to leave the man he just had sex with. “I should…go.” He takes a step to the right, about to shift, then hesitates. “I, uh, had a good time. And I appreciate the gifts, but you should probably stop giving them to me. I can’t really accept them.”

Sendak’s stare does not waver. He smirks like he knows, which isn’t possible. Shiro is the first to look away, shuffling over to his right, letting the shift come over him.

“I’ll see you later,” he says, just before he goes full wolf. Sendak’s expression brightens, and Shiro realizes too late that he didn’t tell him off, or discourage him, or any of the things he promised himself.

He also realizes he may not actually mind.

#shendak #werewolf au #au: werewolves #sendak #voltron #shiro #pwp #my fic #fic #voltron fic

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stonyinspiration · 6 years

Text

Stony Vampire AU: Turning Tony Stark

(My contribution for Halloween. Let me know what you think!)

"Steve.." Howard Stark wheezes, a look of astonishment in his eyes. There’s a crackling sound coming from his lungs with every breath he takes. His body is punctured with seven fatal stab wounds from Bucky's knife--it was surprising that he was still alive--and Bucky had already begun to drink from him when Steve, Clint, and Natasha had arrived.

But once again, like he had been doing for decades, Bucky had disappeared into the night air before Steve could apprehend his former best friend.

Steve hovers over the dying man. The smell of his blood is tantalizing and Steve has to take a moment to compose himself.

'Yeah", Steve confirms, his tone bitter. "Its me.'

"I'm sorry... " Howard coughs, his hands clutching at Steve's shirt. He takes a deep, wheezing breath. "I’m... Sorry...for...what we did to you."

"You cursed me", Steve tells him, anger bubbling in his chest.

"We didn’t know....We couldn’t have known..."

"Save your breath", Steve says harshly.

"That man...." Howard rasps. "Barnes...'

"I know." Steve grits his teeth. "Hydra."

Howard's eyes widen in horror and a gurgling sound leaves his mouth.

It was Hydra that had replicated the serum that had turned Steve into a monster, and now his best friend was also a monster being used as a killing machine the way the US had intended Steve to be. Steve had to save him.

"Maria..." Howard suddenly says, trying to futilely move his body; Steve knows that one of the stab wounds has punctured his spine. "My wife..."

Steve looks over at the passenger side where Clint is checking the woman for any signs of life. Clint meets his eyes and shakes his head.

"She's gone", Steve plainly tells him.

"What about...my boy...”

"Fatal damage to several organs", Natasha informs him from the backseat. "Won't be much longer."

"Please..." Howard softly pleads. "Captain...Save him."

"Your son can't be helped.'

"You can..." Howard regards him with a grave, knowing expression.

"Do you realize what you're asking?" Steve asked with an incredulous shake of his head. “ You'd condemn your own son?” He felt disgust at the very request.

"Please..." Howard begs. "My boy. He needs to live... he can...save you."

"Save me? Steve angrily repeats. "What are you taking about?"

"He's the key..."

"Key to what?" Steve demanded.

"Please save Tony...."

Steve could hear the moment Howard Stark's heart stopped beating. He watched as his eyes glazed over and his mouth went slack. Steve pried the dead man's fingers from his shirt.

Part of him couldn't help but pity the poor bastard, but the other part, the part that was no longer human, felt a kind of satisfaction at seeing one of the men that made him into this meeting a fitting end.

For a long time he hated everyone involved with the experiment that turned him into a monster. All he'd wanted to do was protect his country, he hadn't consented to being turned into an immortal, insatiable, blood lust killing machine. Yet the funny thing about immortality was that you had an infinite amount of time, and with time came clarity.

Hate was the venom that destroyed whatever humanity he had left. If he gave completely into that part then he truly was no better than the evil men he killed. Yes, he was a monster, but God be damned if he wasn't a monster with a purpose.

"Guys got balls to even ask that", Clint remarks. "Does he really think you owe him anything?"

Leaving Howard's body behind, Steve moves toward the back of the car. The young man is slumped to the side, his shirt riddled with stab wounds and soaked in beautiful, crimson red blood.

Steve can hear the low drum of a weak pulse, the sound of his heart struggling to regulate blood flow.

"What are you thinking", Natasha cautions, reading his contemplative stare."You can't actually be considering it." After centuries together Natasha knew him so well that she could practically read his mind.

Clint scoffs. "You cant be serious, Steve! You don’t owe this guy anything."

"I know that."

"You turn him, we gotta keep him." Clint complains. "If you want a pet so bad then we get you a cat." He contorts his face into disgust. "Tastes awful, though."

"We kept you, didn’t we?" Steve shoots back.

"That was different", Natasha clarifies. "We knew Clint when I decided to turn him. We know nothing about this kid."

"I know that if I don’t do anything then he will die." Steve insists, keeping his eyes on young Tony Stark, at the blood seeping from his limp body.

"Steve", Natasha says, grabbing back his attention. "Is this some kind of revenge?" Her eyes are sympathetic.

Steve turns to her, feeling insulted. "I thought you knew me better than that. I gave up on revenge a long time ago."

"Then let him die. The request of a dying man means nothing. Especially if its coming from Howard Stark."

Maybe it was the youthfulness of the young man's appearance. Maybe it was his guilt for not stopping Bucky in time. Maybe it was the part of him that still retained his humanity. Maybe it was simply the bittersweet irony of it all that he found amusing. Whatever the reason was, Steve felt drawn to the young man.

"I'll be responsible for him." Steve says, meeting each of his friends eyes.

Although he'd made his decision, he still needed their approval. He was bringing an outsider into their demented family. Every decision made had to be met with the others approval, or else the foundation of what they'd built together would crumble.

Clint let out an aggravated groan. "Fine, but if he's not house trained then I'm not cleaning after him."

Steve looks to Natasha for approval. Her arms are crossed and she's intensely regarding him with her bright red eyes. After a moment she says, "If he goes off the rails, you're the one that has to put him down."

"I will."

She stares into his eyes for a long moment, the intensity enough to make a mortal buckle. Then, resigned, Natasha says, "He's lost a lot of blood. Drink too much he's easily dead."

Steve nods. "Good thing you guys are here to stop me."

Steve climbs into the backseat. The hunger inside him grows, arousing and all consuming. Not even sex wasn't as intimate as drinking another's blood, but he'd never turned another human being before. This was a frightening, and exhilarating moment for him.

He always made sure his enemy was drunk completely dry, and he'd break their necks to ensure they didn't turn. It was a kind of code of honor they'd developed--as ironic as it sounded.This was a first for him, and he would live to regret it. He always did.

Steve cut into his own wrist with his dangerously sharp teeth, and squeezed the blood from the vein directly into the young man's mouth.

"That should be enough", Natasha assured him. "Drink."

On her direction Steve sunk his teeth into the young man's throat. He held the young man intimately close as he drunk from him. This felt different from all the times Steve had drunk from his enemies.

With his enemies, it was brutal, but quick, and as intimate as the process could be it was abruptly over. With this young man he went slow, carding his fingers through his hair, savoring the rich, metallic taste of his blood in his mouth.

It felt like he'd just begun when Natasha rested her hand on his shoulder. That's enough. Steve pried his mouth from the young man to let out a guttural growl at her, his primal side taking over.

"Steve", Natasha says calmly, holding her hands out, palms facing him to appear non-threatening. "If you keep drinking he will die."

Her words infiltrate his mind, and due to centuries of self discipline Steve is able to reel himself back.

After a moment Steve releases the young man.

"You still with us?"

Steve nods. The young man's blood is still smeared on his mouth, and he cant help but lick it off his face.

"Well congratulations," Clint jests, scooping the young man in his arms. "It's a boy. Now let's light this baby up."

As they walk away the car explodes, vaporizing all evidence that this was anything more than a fatal car crash.

Unbeknownst to Tony Stark, it signified the end of his life and the beginning of his afterlife.

#stony #superhusbands #stevextony #stony au #stony vampire au #vampire au #tw; blood #blood imagery #vampire steve #stony halloween au #vampire avengers

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blackrose-ffxiv · 6 years

Photo

Rare, but Unpleasant 10/07

Lebeaux Desrosiers drifted through the Shirogane shops, easily discernible in any crowd by his height, the pristine white coat and his remarkable aura of superiority. He held flower-pattered parchment bag in one hand, opened so he could eat sweets from it as he glanced over a jeweler’s wares. He paused occasionally to flick powder from his fingers, cursed Hingan sweets and their stickiness, though he didn’t seem intent on making a purchase. There was still time to kill before the meeting with Kasai and Kikai. What was the harm in taking a look around.

But of course, an issue with an individual so distinctive as Lebeaux: He certainly was easy to spot from a great distance, even were one not particularly seeking him out. Resting upon a quaint, arced bridge over the decorative, manmade streamside; Tubisa Kikai’s chin lifts–Tracing Lebeaux’s progress along the street. With a ghost of a smirk, she takes off–Toward a building lining the thoroughfare.. And, with a quick compress of legs–She bounds from ledge to roof to taller roof… Vaulting over the– structure… All to descend to the street below, behind Lebeaux: Great effort expended for a moment of fun. Passerby eye her scrutinously. How unbecoming. But, she follows Lebeaux at a respectful distance.. Slowly gaining on him.*

The jewelry on display didn’t particularly appeal to him. Ishgardian aesthetic was very different Far Eastern and the accouterments weren’t nearly ostentatious to suit his tastes. As such he drifted away, plucking another sweet from the parchment as he made his way up the next set of stairs to inspect the next merchant’s wares as he slowly made his way along the market. In no particular hurry. He took a bite of the mochi and chewed thoughtfully. He didn’t particularly care for these either… yet he kept purchasing them…

Step~Step~Step~Quickstep. Every other step is a couplet of them; gaining on Lebeaux.. .. Until she walks, to his left, and two paces behind. Two of his paces, of course. She quick-walks to match him–And, with hand hovering over his parchment of candies–She releases a smooth, clean, round stone into the bunch. Continuing to walk calmly at his side and to the back; shifting sides on occasion.

Lebeaux wasn’t particularly attentive at the moment. He had a chirurgeon’s eye for detail when he was paying attention and many around him suffered for it. Yet right now he couldn’t care less. Chiaki had disappeared so far as he knew. Though she had first approached him in a market like this. He didn’t notice the additional weight in his hand. He only noticed when he plucked out a particularly firm sweet mixed in with the soft mochi. A sucking candy? He turned it over in his hand, the stone dusted in powdered sugar and starch from the other treats to make it appear as a confection. With a shrug he slipped it between his lips and began to suck on it. And continued to for some time, though his expression immediately flattened. What a boring, flavorless treat.

Her brow lifts-.. Her smile broadens. Covering her mouth, she quickens her pace, walking at Lebeaux’s side. She glances up to him, lifting a hand in greeting before announcing herself. “A lovely day for a stroll, Hm?” She chirps .. A barely-contained smirk tautening her lips.*

Lebeaux smiled serenely as someone falls into step beside him, glancing over to find Kikai. What a nice surprise. Now he was in a bit of a difficult situation. He couldn’t spit out the terrible candy without seeming a boor, nor could he speak with his mouth full and the not-very-sweet sweet was too large to simply swallow. Instead he simply tilted his head in a half-bow of greeting but said nothing. The smooth stone settled on his tongue for the moment. To cover up the lack of speech he tilted the parchment bag, offering Kikai one of the mochi.

Her mouth moves to speak-..But she pauses. Touching her finger to her chin, she cants her head.. “Ah–Oh, no. Very kind of you to offer, but–” Ah, yes. “..Oh. Yes–Sometimes, you get a .. Poorly-formed mochi. Mhm. It hardens, from the crystallized sugars, you see.” She explains with a lifted finger. “Most simply spit those out. Rare, but unpleasant.” Yes, yes, very good. The guilt was overpowered by the humor, however. She chuckles chipperly, grinning up at him. “It is pleasant to see you enjoying the ‘local cuisine’, Lee~beaux’!”

The medic smiled sweetly all the while, reaching out and turning Kikai’s extended hand over. He planted the bag of sweets on her palm then reached into his coat to fetch a white handkerchief. Under the pretense of dabbing powdered sugar from his lips he casually let the stone slide off of his tongue into the fabric, which was then folded up and tucked back into his pocket. He would eventually realize what had truly gone on here when he went to dispose of the ‘poorly formed mochi’ later. But for the moment it was safe. “They’re not particularly sweet and they have a strange texture. Yet I find myself eating them nonetheless. Are they laced, I wonder.” He mused as he reached to take the bag back. “Were you on your way to Ryoko’s office?”

Pinching her tongue between her teeth, she holds herself back from cackling. She has the social decency for at least that. Pursing her lips, and lifting the bag back to him to retrieve, having acted as a temporary 'shelf, she nods in affirmation. “Indeed–A gallivant about the town, you know, of course~.” She turns, and walks backwards, peering up to him as she went along. “Have you been well? No loose stones along your way? No shadowing irritants?” A pause. “Of an unsavory variety?” Another pause. “Who means ill to you? I do hope not.”

Lebeaux serenely despite the curiously specific questions. “Should I be aware of loose stones and shadowy irritants?” He mused. “Other than you popping from the shadows to join me for a stroll all has been blissfully quiet as of late.” It struck him rather suddenly that this was likely the only time he had ever spoke to Kikai when she wasn’t injured or concussed. “Hm, I had assumed your unusual manner of speaking was merely due to a recent blow to the head. I see now it’s a standard feature.” He teased lightly as he ascended the staircase, taking a bite of a blissfully soft sweet.

“Oh, yes. Quite standard, indeed.” She replied without a thought spared for reproach. Touching her chin as she strolled at his side, she nodded in affirmation. “Good, great, delightful–Then perhaps we truly are rid of the villain who accosted us.” She glanced to his wrist–And smiles more widely, looking forward as they made their way to Kasai’s office. “It is not your job–To be eyes. Merely to be a mind–For medicine, that is. It is, of course, business. But, I do appreciate your work. Thank you.” She offers a pleasant nod, which slips to a modest bow, at the foot of the office’s steps. “If you’ve need of my abilities; provided Kasai does not require them in the moment–It would be a pleasure to aid you, about the city.” She offers with a pleasant smile.

It was difficult to tell where one was looking when wearing goggles but he suspected that she tilted her head to look at his hands. Despite having very clearly broken his wrist in the incident he didn’t seem to be favoring his left wrist. He held the back in his left palm and plucked sweets from it with his right. “I should hope so. Yet I suspect trouble like that doesn’t simply… go away.” He mused as they neared the Kasaigumi’s headquarters. A dark brow quirked at the offer. “As a tour guide, of sorts?”

“Ah, but of course.. Such troubles at persistent–Persistent and irritating. And come up at the most inopportune moments, of course~” She hums along. “Hm. Indeed. A tour guide–Of sorts. Eyes, ears, and if the occasion calls, words. I can aid you in your business, if you’d like. Knowledge and insight is power, indeed.” She chuckles with a touch of lilt in her voice, turning on her heel and walking backwards again, smirking up at him. “Such practice would keep me on my toes. For when Lady Kasai had need of me, of course.” She taps her cheek. “Think on it. Hm?”

#lebeaux #kikai #kasaigumi #tricksy little bird

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theharlequinwriter · 6 years

Text

He’s Just like you.

Summary : you and sam have a bad fight causing you to leave not knowing your pregnant and its a couple years later

Word count : 2,720

triggers: swearing.

“Dean wheres sam”

I stood on my tip toes looking over deans shoulder looking for my tall boyfriend sam.

“He took of with that demon bitch”

I gritted my teeth.

“Ruby” I hated her more than anything , I knew that she was lying to us about helping dean outta going to hell but of course we couldn’t took a damn angel to save him. I hated how much sam trusted her , I feel like he would chose her over me , so I avoided the question during fights. I sat back on the couch grabbing my food from the brown bag dean had.

“You okay y/n?”

“Im fine why?”

“You seem upset lately maybe a little bitchy”

I pushed deans arm , taking a bite of my burger. We sat watching movies until at least midnight when sam finally came back in the door. Dean and I both turned now looking at sam who stood there as if he had just gotten off work.

“Where were you sam?”

“With ruby babe”

He walked by grabbing his salad pecking me on the cheek. I heard more footsteps and in walks in the demon herself ruby.

“Why the hell are you here demon bitch”

“Watch you’re tone with me hunter skank”

I walked around the couch coming face to face with ruby.

“Lets go bitch”

I pushed her back , sam came grabbing my hand leading me to the kitchen.

“What the hell y/n”

“Really sam”

“What?”

“You brought her here knowing how I feel about her”

“Shes helping me”

“I can help you sam”

“Not like she can”

“Are you sleeping with the bitch or something”

“What no”

“Then what the hell sam , why am I getting the 3rd degree here”

“Shes helping me y/n more than you or dean ever could”

“Wow sam I stayed with you even after dean went to hell ,I stayed when I found out you’re a demon blood junkie , I stayed even when she came” “No one asked you too y/n”

His hands now clenching into fist.

“I didnt ask you to stay , you did that all on your own”

“What was I gonna do sam , let you go y2k on everyone and everything?”

“I dont know y/n but it would of been easier if you just left”

“Really why so you could fuck her without feeling guilty after , oh im sorry I mean "helping” you"

“Actually you know what y/n yes okay yes im fucking ruby ,ya happy now , wanna know why? Cause she doesnt bitch all the time , she doesnt need me to protect her , id rather her have my back at least I can depend on her”

“SAM!”

dean yelled stepping between us.

I felt my heart shatter In pieces, I felt tears forming , I didnt want him to see me cry.

I walked away still hearing him yell at dean about how ruby is better for him than me , how maybe I should just go. I went to our room grabbing everything I could , smashing pictures as I walked around the room.

“Okay sam , hope your happy”

I walked away grabbing my bag and a little money. I gave dean a hug then I walked out the door not looking back.

I finally got to a cheap hotel where I got a single bed for the weekend. I walked inside falling onto the bed tears falling down my face. How could he say that. I took a shower , getting out my phone had a text from dean.

-hey y/n think it finally hit sam your not coming back , he might try call ya Ill let you know if he does anything stupid and dont worry about ruby ill gank her soon-

I didn’t reply i want sam to worry to realize im not going back.

Its been two months since I left, i decided I need to get a apartment in a little town where supernatural things didn’t occur. I went into the little market buying some food and shampoo oh and pregnancy test.

I got home taking the test , it came back positive only one guy could be the father.

Sam.

I havent slept with anyone else or even looked at another guy I still loved sam.

*TWO YEARS LATER*

“Mommy , mommy look”

I got down on knees taking the drawing out of ethans hand.

My son ethan looks just like his father , he has his eyes and hair , his laugh , smile. He makes me miss sam everyday.

“Thats amazing baby , what is it”

Looking at the drawings it was a very tall person with a cape and what look like dogs.

“Its daddy , you said hes saving people from devil dogs , silly mommy”

I put it on the frige placing him in his seat. I gave him his lunch , he always wanted to know about sam ever since he had a play date with a kid who had both his parents. I told him sam was off saving the world from monsters like ghost and devil dogs. He always asked if his daddy was coming home or will he ever see him.

He was so smart for a child his age. After lunch I asked if he wanted to go to the park to play and feed the ducks.

We got in the car buckling ethan into his seat. When got to the park , ethan took off for the swings. I sat on a bench close enough to see but not so close I can’t see my surroundings. Im still a hunter after all. Ethan was playing tag with some of his friends when another mom came and sat next to me.

“Hey y/n , how are you”

“Im fine susan ,how are you”

“Honestly a little shook up , some fbi agents came to the house asking about murders”

“Creepy”

“Oh my thats them”

She pointed her finger over at two men in suits , walking twords us. I brushed my hair into my face , I turned to her but she was already gone. As they got closer I could hear them banter back and forth.

“Excuse me miss may we ask you some questions”

I sat up looking up at the man who spoke.

“Hi sam”

His jaw dropped as I spoke to him , I flashed a smile , I jumped up hugging dean before reaching out offering sam a hug. He pulled me in hugging me tightly his hands rested on my lower back. I pulled away still having the smell of him fill my nose

“So what’s going on , I havent heard about any murders”

Dean spoke when sam just stood there with a big smile across his face.

“Happend in the 80’s thinking its a wendigo who went quite”

“You guys still gotta gank it nice or not a monsters a monster right”

“Right”

Dean winked at me before sam cut in.

“So uhh whats new”

“A little this , a litte that”

I didnt tell him about ethan, I didnt need a absent father in his life Sam kept glancing at the ground then back at me.

“We ganked ruby”

“Oh im sorry ”

“Im not ,she was tricking me”

“Oh well cant trust anyone I guess”

“Ive missed you y/n”

“I miss you too sam”

His smile grew bigger.

“Maybe we can get a drink tonight and talk”

“I can’t im sorry”

“Oh you got a boyfriend or something?”

“No ”

Dean now trying to help his brother spoke now giving me his best charm.

“Why dont the three of us go get a drink and talk about getting the band back together”

“Id love to you guys but I cant”

Sam was about to protest when ethan came running from the playground.

“Mommy , mommy I caught a bug”

I picked him up sitting him on my hip.

“Let me see”

He opend his hand showing a dead cricket"

“Its dead hun”

“I know silly mommy , it was scaring lisa so I saved her , like how daddy saved you from monsters”

I kissed his cheek putting him back down , crouching down I grabbed his hand.

“Go say bye we gotta go home”

He smiled running off to say bye, I stood up sam and dean both wide eyed and speechless. I waved my hand in front of sams face making him snap out of his trance.

“You have a a a a son?”

“Yea his names ethan”

Sam stayed speachless watching ethan run back to us.

Ethan stood by my side , gripping my pant leg tightly. Sam crouched down pulling out his fake fbi badge.

“Hi im sam”

Ethan grabbed his badge.

“Im ethan”

“Tell him your full name ethan”

ethan tucked his head into my leg before looking back at sam smiling.

“My name is Ethan Samuel Winchester”

Sams head shot up looking at me, he stood up trying to figure out what to say.

“Ethan hunny dont forget your toy”

He ran back to the swings where his toy dragon sat in the sand. Sam finally spoke.

“Is he mine?”

“Yes sam , hes your son”

“When did you find out"

"Maybe a month and a half after I left”

“Why didnt you call?”

“Didnt think you would care”

I could see tears filling up his eyes. Ethan walked over , picking him up I gave sam and dean quick hugs before walking to my car , shaky and on the verge of tears.

*sams pov*

Dean and I just killed off the 90 year old wendigo. Dean decided we had a crazy day so the bar was the perfect place to go. We sat down at a table near the back , dean ordered 6 shots of whiskey , 3 for each , and two beers one for each. As we drank my mind kept snapping back to y/n and our son.

“Sammy?”

I snapped out of my day dream to dean cheersing me with his shot.

“So you’re a daddy sam”

“Im not a dad im just the biological father , I wasnt there for anything”

Dean downed his other two shots , so did I. He raised he hand asking for 3

More rounds. We were in the middle of our 3 or was it 5th round with jack when I finally yelled.

“Why the fuck didnt she call me dean? Ya know just be like oh hey sam im pregnant with your child just fyi or a text something”

“You told her to go sam , told her you wanted ruby , that you were cheating on her with ruby , that you wished she left , you made her feel worthless , unloved , unwanted , you were so jacked up on demon blood you didnt care when she walked out the door”

I buried my face in my hands , dean was right , it was my fault she never came back or called , I dont blame her for hiding him from me.

Dean cleared his throat.

“She clearly tells the kid about you”

I looked up at him , feeling tears build behind my eyelids.

“What?”

“She tells the kid about you I mean you didnt hear him say he saved the girl from the bug like his daddy saved her”

My heart beat hard agianst my chest. I had to see her ,tell her everything. I stood up but dean pushed me back into my seat.

“2 more rounds”

After we drank I felt the room spinning , my thoughts jumbled between y/n and ethan , and more alcohol. I walked outside feeling the cold air hit my face.

“Cas!”

I yelled when I heard the sound of wings I turned to see 3 cas’s , he spoke but I couldn’t hear him.

“T-t-t take me to y/n”

Next thing I knew I was infront of a little white house.

*y/n pov*

*BANG BANG*

I ran to the door , it was 2 am who the hell is banging at my door this late. I opened the door to find a very drunk , very sad sam.

“Sam?”

He smiled pulling me to his chest.

“Y/n!!”

I took him inside sitting him on the couch handing him a water bottle.

“Sam what are you doing here?”

“This right here ”

He patted his hands on the couch.

“Is where im meant to be”

“Sam please dont”

“Please just listen”

I sat next to him making sure we didnt touch.

“Y/n im so sorry for how I acted , for what I s s s said , ruby was a lying bitch just l l like you said. She tricked me into horrible things I never had sex with her , I never even looked at her like that , I was so junked up on demon blood that I didnt see that you were what I needed , w w what I need baby.”

I saw tears falling from his eyes now when he spoke.

“Baby you are my world , and we have a son , , I dont blame you for keeping him from me, but I I can’t , wont miss anymore of his life or yours , I need you back y/n , im so sorry so so so sorry”

He was now full on crying , I could tell dean had gotten him drunk so he could say how he felt. He looked back at me , his eyes blood shot and his breath smelling of whiskey.

“He has your eyes sam”

“Really?”

“Yeah , he is just like you more and more everyday”

I felt tears falling down my face.

“Sam you can come back but you have to be here , I wont let you hurt ethan”

“I wont ever hurt eaither of you”

His hands grabbed mine pulling me to him so now I was sitting on his lap facing him. He put one of his hands on my lower back while the other rested on my cheek. He closed the gap between us his lips gently touching mine. I kissed back running my hands through his hair making the kiss deeper.

“Ive missed you so much sam”

I helped him upstairs ,letting him sleep in my bed. As I layed next to him , he wrapped his hands around my waist pulling me into his spooning me.

“Does ethan know about me?”

“Yeah he knows you and dean hunting monsters like ghost and demons but he thinks your a superhero”

I heard his laugh as we fell asleep. I woke up before sam untangling myself from him. I walked downstairs where ethan sat watching his morning cartoons. I called him over to the kitchen sitting him in his chair I went to the frige grabbing things for pancakes.

“Mommy what’s wrong?”

Ethan looked at me smiling

“Nothing baby”

I walked away from my mixing bowl picking ethan up sitting him on my hip. Grabbing my wallet I took the picture of me sam and dean out handing it to him.

“That right there is your uncle dean , hes really brave and the tall guy thats your daddy sam he’s my hero”

Ethan smiled holding the picture, I walked into the kitchen sitting him down on the floor. I heard steps coming from upstairs.

“Ethan hun I have a surprise for you”

His head snapped up looking at me with wonder.

“What is it mommy?”

“I want you to look at that picture real close”

As he squinted his eyes , sam came down standing at the walk way into the kitchen.

“Now ethan look up”

Ethan looked up from the picture , as his eyes met sam , the biggest smile formed across his face.

“DADDY!!!”

he ran over grabbing sams legs as sam picked him up.

“Daddy your back!”

Sam hugged him tears falling down his face. His eyes locked onto mine.

“Daddys home now ethan”

After breakfast dean came over so ethan could know his family. As sam and I did dishes his hands grabbed my hips spining me around so now I was face to face with him.

“Y/n I wanna be a family”

“We are sam”

“I wanna make it offical”

He reached into his pocket pulling out a ring.

“I know its not much but will you marry me ?”

“Yes sam oh my lord yes”

He kissed me , my hands tangled in jis hair as we parted I could hear ethan and dean.

“Ew mommy and daddy are kissing”

“I know right gross”

I smiled at sam , knowing he will always be there for ethan and I

#Littlebrothersammyimagines #sam winchester imagines #sam winchester #sam winchester x reader

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