#i eat sleep breathe outer wilds

[sawyer-is-eepy]

"hatchling." pg 1 of a wip ow comic

this is just page one, would y'all be interested in the rest?? im trying to finish it but losing motivation qwq anyways i have two pages done, this is just the first to get y'all ~intrigued~ or something idk.

anywaysss- inspired by @ciearcab bcuz their art is so so rad omg please go follow them they inspired this whole thing along with elwensa on DA and reddit, but i dont think she has a tumblr. sPEAKING OF, ALSO GO CHECK OUT HER WORK CUZ SHE HAS A SHIT TON OF SUPER RAD COMICS :DD anyways, yeah ::3

stay curious, fellow hearthians!!

[aliiok]

Chapter 1

Through The Stars

ao3

On a dig to find an ancient relic, you meet The Mandalorian, and his little green friend.

archeologist!reader and gn!reader

A/N: Hello! I'm not the best writer, but I struck some inspiration the other day and came up with a story that I wanted to share.

Karabast. This was going to take longer than you initially thought. You had spent your last few credits for a ship to this planet, and now you might be here so long at this excavation that you starve to death. That was, if your janky breathing mask held up long enough.

You came to Shivao looking for ruins that might uncover the rumored existence of an ancient Mandalorian relic. It was a dangerous place, full of sandstorms, treacherous terrain, and wild creatures. So far, this was your second attempt at an excavation, having found nothing but sand and old root systems from long-dead trees at the first. Now, as you began your second dig in the past few weeks, your food supply was starting to run low.

After a few hours of digging, you decided to give it a rest and set up camp. With the air on this planet being toxic to your race, you brought along a small portable tent that allowed you to seal it and use an air filter so you’re able to eat and sleep without your breathing mask inside.

Your arms ached after another day of work. You lazily set up your sleeping pad, plopped down, and ate the first thing you saw when opening your pack. As you laid down, you could already feel yourself giving into sleep, mostly from pure exhaustion. You didn't even bother to remove your boots or outer clothes.

-

Not knowing how much time has passed, you woke up with a start, feeling the pumping of your heart beating fast throughout your entire body. That’s when you realized: you heard the familiar noise of boots on sand. It was hard to tell just how far away the noise was from inside the tent.

Moving slowly, you reached for your breathing mask and your old, but trusty blaster at the side of your cot. You ensured the mask was sealed and the motor on it running before slowly unfastening the tent with one hand and gripping your gun in the other.

You took a deep breath, holding it while exiting the tent. Between your heart beat thrumming in your ears, and the small noises you made while fitting on your mask, you didn’t notice the sudden silence outside as you exited the tent. But, it was all too obvious now. It was too dark to see anything, even the cobbled ruins a mere 10 paces from you. You slowly turned to face where the sound was originally coming from, raising your blaster and fitting your other hand overtop.

“Reveal yourself, or face the consequences,” you stated loudly, trying to keep your voice from wavering. You weren’t that confident you were aiming at the source of the noise, but even if you could see them, you were sure the anxiety blooming in your chest would cause you to miss. “I will not hesitate to shoot if threatened.”

Then, you heard an unintelligible noise a few feet to the left of where you were originally aiming. Your chest tightened, and you slid your finger from the side of the gun to rest over the trigger while adjusting your aim. “I am not your enemy,” grunted a voice, deep, gravelly, and sent through a vocoder, you realized. “Who are you?”

“Who are you?” you questioned. “I am here to study these ruins.”

You lowered your blaster towards the ground, but left your finger on the trigger. “Reveal yourself,” you said again, moving a hand towards your face to turn on the light in your mask. The light illuminated around five paces in front of you, enough to show footprints leading from the ruins, but not the intruder themselves.

“You’re an archeologist,” the voice stated, not a question, just a statement. You nodded, your shoulders relaxing some but your heart not stilling. “Why are you here? What do you know of these ruins?” it asked you.

The source of the voice took several steps forward, and you finally saw them. Tall, broad-shouldered, and most importantly: wearing a full suit of shiny gray beskar armor. Your heart seizes. A Mandalorian.

You’d never seen a Mandalorian in person. Sure, you’d taken many classes back at your training center on Corellia on the history and culture of Mandalore, but you'd never thought you’d get to meet one in person.

And now, one stood in front of you.

“Um..” you stammered. You began to wonder how much information you should reveal, but you quickly decided to divulge to this man in front of you in exchange for being able to say you spoke to one of the great warriors strapped in beskar. After all, if there was anyone who deserved to know information about the Mandalorian ruins you were studying, surely it would be him.

Although, how were you supposed to say you were following long lost trails all under the funding of a mysterious organization who didn’t give you much to go off of in the first place? You had been chasing dead leads since you got here. Really, you wanted to know just as much about it as this organization did.

You decided to explain, anyway.

The history of the ruined settlement was shrouded in mystery, with many legends and tales passed down through generations about the brave warriors who once lived here. Some believed that the settlement was destroyed in the Great Purge, while others believed that it was simply abandoned as the Mandalorians moved on to other parts of the galaxy. Whatever the reason, the ruins have remained untouched for many years. The artifact that you are searching for was believed to hold key information about the Mandalorian people and their way of life.

You explained this to the figure, finishing with the relic. “This is a possible site that may hold this relic of Mandalore. I don’t know much about this specific location, but,” you paused, turning on the safety and holstering your weapon, “I do know the relic is somewhere on this planet. I’m just here looking for information.”

“So you have no new information.” He states, taking a few more steps forward. Gods, is he huge. “This planet is dangerous. You’re going to get yourself killed.”

You frowned, making a face. “Why are you here?” you asked, choosing to ignore what he just said.

“I will help you, in exchange that you do not keep the relics you find. You will be paid handsomely instead.” He disregarded your question. It was only now you noticed a pod floating behind him. This planet’s sun was starting to rise over the dunes, the sky turning from black to a deep violet color on the edge. Finally, your heart slowed and you fully relaxed.

You thought for a moment. Really, you were only here for information. The man who gave you the job didn’t say anything about bringing back the relic itself, just that you would be rewarded for any information you found. Could you trust him though? You knew nothing of this man, unsure if you could even fight him off if he were to turn on you.

Ultimately, you decided to agree. If he was going to kill you, he would’ve done it already. The only reason you heard his footsteps in the first place was because, other than the windstorms, this planet was usually eerily quiet. Including now. That, and you had gotten used to sleeping lightly.

You told him your name, turning on the power for your strip lights by the entrance that otherwise would have left you vulnerable while encountering an enemy in the dark. “Fine, but don’t expect me not to shoot you if I find a reason to.”

You hear a foreign huff behind the mask. Was that a laugh?

With the outdoor lights on, you could now see your surroundings clearer. The ruins came into view, the walls mostly crumbled, and stones scattered around. The Mandalorian walked closer, and the strange pod behind him followed. The top was made of a clear material, and it floated a few units off of the ground. The most peculiar thing, though, was the tiny green creature sitting within.

“What is that!” your question came out more as an exclamation. You’d never seen anything like it. Its little head was covered in wrinkles, with long, pointy ears extending from both sides. The creature stared at you with big, dark eyes. Strangely, you thought, it’s very cute. It looked like a child.

Before the Mandalorian could respond, the baby cooed at you. “We should begin before sunrise,” he ignored you. Again.

You let out a sigh. “I gave you my name. What should I call you?”

He turned, already heading towards the entrance to the ruins. Before he passed through the entryway, you heard his voice again.

“Most just call me Mando.”

Edit: I've gone through and made some minor edits to this chapter, including the planet this section of the story takes place on.

[publicdomainbooks]

XI. THE HUNTING OF THE MAN.

It came before my mind with an unreasonable hope of escape that the outer door of my room was still open to me. I was convinced now, absolutely assured, that Moreau had been vivisecting a human being. All the time since I had heard his name, I had been trying to link in my mind in some way the grotesque animalism of the islanders with his abominations; and now I thought I saw it all. The memory of his work on the transfusion of blood recurred to me. These creatures I had seen were the victims of some hideous experiment. These sickening scoundrels had merely intended to keep me back, to fool me with their display of confidence, and presently to fall upon me with a fate more horrible than death,—with torture; and after torture the most hideous degradation it is possible to conceive,—to send me off a lost soul, a beast, to the rest of their Comus rout.

I looked round for some weapon. Nothing. Then with an inspiration I turned over the deck chair, put my foot on the side of it, and tore away the side rail. It happened that a nail came away with the wood, and projecting, gave a touch of danger to an otherwise petty weapon. I heard a step outside, and incontinently flung open the door and found Montgomery within a yard of it. He meant to lock the outer door! I raised this nailed stick of mine and cut at his face; but he sprang back. I hesitated a moment, then turned and fled, round the corner of the house. “Prendick, man!” I heard his astonished cry, “don’t be a silly ass, man!”

Another minute, thought I, and he would have had me locked in, and as ready as a hospital rabbit for my fate. He emerged behind the corner, for I heard him shout, “Prendick!” Then he began to run after me, shouting things as he ran. This time running blindly, I went northeastward in a direction at right angles to my previous expedition. Once, as I went running headlong up the beach, I glanced over my shoulder and saw his attendant with him. I ran furiously up the slope, over it, then turning eastward along a rocky valley fringed on either side with jungle I ran for perhaps a mile altogether, my chest straining, my heart beating in my ears; and then hearing nothing of Montgomery or his man, and feeling upon the verge of exhaustion, I doubled sharply back towards the beach as I judged, and lay down in the shelter of a canebrake. There I remained for a long time, too fearful to move, and indeed too fearful even to plan a course of action. The wild scene about me lay sleeping silently under the sun, and the only sound near me was the thin hum of some small gnats that had discovered me. Presently I became aware of a drowsy breathing sound, the soughing of the sea upon the beach.

After about an hour I heard Montgomery shouting my name, far away to the north. That set me thinking of my plan of action. As I interpreted it then, this island was inhabited only by these two vivisectors and their animalised victims. Some of these no doubt they could press into their service against me if need arose. I knew both Moreau and Montgomery carried revolvers; and, save for a feeble bar of deal spiked with a small nail, the merest mockery of a mace, I was unarmed.

So I lay still there, until I began to think of food and drink; and at that thought the real hopelessness of my position came home to me. I knew no way of getting anything to eat. I was too ignorant of botany to discover any resort of root or fruit that might lie about me; I had no means of trapping the few rabbits upon the island. It grew blanker the more I turned the prospect over. At last in the desperation of my position, my mind turned to the animal men I had encountered. I tried to find some hope in what I remembered of them. In turn I recalled each one I had seen, and tried to draw some augury of assistance from my memory.

Then suddenly I heard a staghound bay, and at that realised a new danger. I took little time to think, or they would have caught me then, but snatching up my nailed stick, rushed headlong from my hiding-place towards the sound of the sea. I remember a growth of thorny plants, with spines that stabbed like pen-knives. I emerged bleeding and with torn clothes upon the lip of a long creek opening northward. I went straight into the water without a minute’s hesitation, wading up the creek, and presently finding myself kneedeep in a little stream. I scrambled out at last on the westward bank, and with my heart beating loudly in my ears, crept into a tangle of ferns to await the issue. I heard the dog (there was only one) draw nearer, and yelp when it came to the thorns. Then I heard no more, and presently began to think I had escaped.

The minutes passed; the silence lengthened out, and at last after an hour of security my courage began to return to me. By this time I was no longer very much terrified or very miserable. I had, as it were, passed the limit of terror and despair. I felt now that my life was practically lost, and that persuasion made me capable of daring anything. I had even a certain wish to encounter Moreau face to face; and as I had waded into the water, I remembered that if I were too hard pressed at least one path of escape from torment still lay open to me,—they could not very well prevent my drowning myself. I had half a mind to drown myself then; but an odd wish to see the whole adventure out, a queer, impersonal, spectacular interest in myself, restrained me. I stretched my limbs, sore and painful from the pricks of the spiny plants, and stared around me at the trees; and, so suddenly that it seemed to jump out of the green tracery about it, my eyes lit upon a black face watching me. I saw that it was the simian creature who had met the launch upon the beach. He was clinging to the oblique stem of a palm-tree. I gripped my stick, and stood up facing him. He began chattering. “You, you, you,” was all I could distinguish at first. Suddenly he dropped from the tree, and in another moment was holding the fronds apart and staring curiously at me.

I did not feel the same repugnance towards this creature which I had experienced in my encounters with the other Beast Men. “You,” he said, “in the boat.” He was a man, then,—at least as much of a man as Montgomery’s attendant,—for he could talk.

“Yes,” I said, “I came in the boat. From the ship.”

“Oh!” he said, and his bright, restless eyes travelled over me, to my hands, to the stick I carried, to my feet, to the tattered places in my coat, and the cuts and scratches I had received from the thorns. He seemed puzzled at something. His eyes came back to my hands. He held his own hand out and counted his digits slowly, “One, two, three, four, five—eigh?”

I did not grasp his meaning then; afterwards I was to find that a great proportion of these Beast People had malformed hands, lacking sometimes even three digits. But guessing this was in some way a greeting, I did the same thing by way of reply. He grinned with immense satisfaction. Then his swift roving glance went round again; he made a swift movement—and vanished. The fern fronds he had stood between came swishing together.

I pushed out of the brake after him, and was astonished to find him swinging cheerfully by one lank arm from a rope of creepers that looped down from the foliage overhead. His back was to me.

“Hullo!” said I.

He came down with a twisting jump, and stood facing me.

“I say,” said I, “where can I get something to eat?”

“Eat!” he said. “Eat Man’s food, now.” And his eye went back to the swing of ropes. “At the huts.”

“But where are the huts?”

“Oh!”

“I’m new, you know.”

At that he swung round, and set off at a quick walk. All his motions were curiously rapid. “Come along,” said he.

I went with him to see the adventure out. I guessed the huts were some rough shelter where he and some more of these Beast People lived. I might perhaps find them friendly, find some handle in their minds to take hold of. I did not know how far they had forgotten their human heritage.

My ape-like companion trotted along by my side, with his hands hanging down and his jaw thrust forward. I wondered what memory he might have in him. “How long have you been on this island?” said I.

“How long?” he asked; and after having the question repeated, he held up three fingers.

The creature was little better than an idiot. I tried to make out what he meant by that, and it seems I bored him. After another question or two he suddenly left my side and went leaping at some fruit that hung from a tree. He pulled down a handful of prickly husks and went on eating the contents. I noted this with satisfaction, for here at least was a hint for feeding. I tried him with some other questions, but his chattering, prompt responses were as often as not quite at cross purposes with my question. Some few were appropriate, others quite parrot-like.

I was so intent upon these peculiarities that I scarcely noticed the path we followed. Presently we came to trees, all charred and brown, and so to a bare place covered with a yellow-white incrustation, across which a drifting smoke, pungent in whiffs to nose and eyes, went drifting. On our right, over a shoulder of bare rock, I saw the level blue of the sea. The path coiled down abruptly into a narrow ravine between two tumbled and knotty masses of blackish scoriae. Into this we plunged.

It was extremely dark, this passage, after the blinding sunlight reflected from the sulphurous ground. Its walls grew steep, and approached each other. Blotches of green and crimson drifted across my eyes. My conductor stopped suddenly. “Home!” said he, and I stood in a floor of a chasm that was at first absolutely dark to me. I heard some strange noises, and thrust the knuckles of my left hand into my eyes. I became aware of a disagreeable odor, like that of a monkey’s cage ill-cleaned. Beyond, the rock opened again upon a gradual slope of sunlit greenery, and on either hand the light smote down through narrow ways into the central gloom.

[strangelysamantha]

crashing ☆

rafe cameron x gn!reader.

warnings: reader gets injured, car crash, swearing.

words: 3,106.

summary: rafe is waiting for you to meet him at figure 8, but he’ll be waiting awhile as you got in a tragic car accident, the other vehicle being driven by his father.

request? no! requests are opened!

a/n: use of they/them pronouns. like and comment if you enjoy this story! thanks <333

my masterlist

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“alright baby. of course. i love you!! yes, i’m leaving now.” rafe was on the other side of your phone, ensuring that you were ready for your dinner date. the two of you have plans to meet at the figure eight. you will eat at a nice restaurant, and then finish the date off with a scroll through the park while watching the sunset. rafe had planned the whole thing out, excited he could finally show you how much you meant to him. rafe smiled, “okay babe. i’ll see you in a few. i can't wait to see your precious face.” heat rushes to your face because of rafes words. “see you in a few.” you hang the phone up, grabbing your car keys.

you walk to your car that is sitting in your driveway. you hop in, starting your car. you put your seatbelt on, using your phone, you do a map search to the location rafe had sent you. you turn the music up slightly. you check behind you for passing cars or pedestrians, and when the coast was clear, you pulled out of your driveway, and started the drive to rafe.

you had only been driving for five minutes. you were caught at a red light. your light turned green so you pressed the gas to go. immediately a large black car t boned straight into you, hitting you head on. luckily, it had smashed into the passenger side, but the weight from the other car caused your car to shift, making you to hit your head against your steering wheel, and the car's window. the car crashed into a light pole. you were on the border between the cut and figure eight. nobody was ever there unless they were passing by. you struggled to look up, trying to see if you knew who had crashed into you.

the car that slammed into you looks vaguely familiar. you understood why when the guy who jumped out of the car was none other than ward, rafe’s father. you frowned. he rushed to your car, ready to yell at you but panicked when he saw who you were. ward immediately ran back to his car. he hopped into his car, speedily driving away.

you feel around for your phone. when you finally find it, your screen is cracked, and the screen is black. it won’t turn on. the phone must have slipped from your cup holder onto the side of the door, causing it to break. you drove your car forward so you weren’t positioned into the middle of the street. you shut your car off. your head begins to feel light headed, you close your eyes, trying to make the pain minimal. your eyes shut, and you could feel yourself slowly passing out. you try to stay awake, but the sleep engulfed you.

rafe was panicking. you were never late. well, yes you run late, but never without texting first. anytime you ran into trouble you would immediately message him and let him know. he hated this. he didn’t know what he should do. he tried to call your phone but it went straight to voicemail. he exited the restaurant, searching for either you or your car but he couldn’t find either. he frowned to himself. did you intentionally miss dinner? did he do something wrong? rafe was scared, what if you were in danger?

rafe pulled his phone out. he set his feud aside, calling pope. pope glanced at the caller id that was currently ringing his phone. he was shocked to say the least. “rafe?” pope questioned through the phone. pope didn’t want to answer but if rafe truly needed something from pope, he wouldn’t hesitate to get it from him in person. he knew it would be easier if he just answered and figured out what he needed. “pope?” rafe bombarded pope with questions about you; and your whereabouts. pope was confused. he hadn’t seen you since this morning.

“i’m sorry rafe, but i haven’t seen them since early this morning. i’m down the street from their house if you want me to knock on their door?” rafe sighed, “please. see if they are home.” pope nodded. “alright one second.” pope rushed to your front door. he knocked three times. “the car isn’t here, they seem to have left.” rafe smiled. “okay. thank you, pope. i appreciate it, man.” rafe felt relieved. “no problem.”pope hung up. you had actually left to meet him at the restaurant. but if that was true, why weren’t you at the restaurant yet?

rafe decided to stay put. he got confirmation that your car was gone. that shows you had safely left your house. if you don’t show in the next ten minutes then rafe would go looking for you.

you kept dozing in and out of consciousness. after the third time of passing out, you actually stay awake. you open your car door, stumbling out of it. your head hurt, and you felt light headed. you look around, no civilians. you yell out, but no one is around to hear. “HELLO??” you walk away from your car, just a little bit. you take in your surroundings. you walked back to your car.

you try to turn your car back on but the engine is stalled, it doesn’t even sputter again. you sink into the seat, laying your head on the head rest. you pull down the little mirror, examining your face. you hadn’t noticed, but the top right of your forehead was bleeding. It looked to have a pretty big gash. you had a bruise on your left cheek from when your head slammed against the steering wheel. you look at the time, noticing that it was ten minutes past your date with rafe. you jumped out the car, walking towards your house once more.

before you could step inside, you ran into pope. you noticed he peeked through your window. “peeping pope, why are you looking through my window?” you laugh at the added nickname. he stayed still, thinking of an explanation. “rafe called me saying you were late to something and he was worried.” he finally turned around, glancing at you. “what! what happened to your face?” he rushed towards you automatically inspecting the cut and bruises.

“i got in a car accident, ward cameron t boned into me.” you continued, “he got me good. slammed my head against the window and the steering wheel.” pope shook his head, panicked. “we have to get you to the hospital! you had two blows to your head; that's double the chance of internal bleeding.” pope helped you, carrying you inside his dad's car. he speedily drove you to the hospital, signing you in. they took you back, while pope stayed seated in the waiting room.

someone was going to have to call rafe; and it certainly wasn’t going to be pope. before going into the back room, you had handed pope your phone. he plugged it into the quick charging station to see if it was dead. sure enough, the low battery symbol turned on. the phone automatically turned on, showing the numerous mixed texts from rafe. pope ignored them, not wanting to be the one to answer them since it wasn’t his phone.

rafe decided to check your location one last time. the first few times he had checked, it said your location services were off. he didn’t know why it said that, he honestly believed it to be some glitch. rafe’s air got stuck in his throat when he saw your location had updated to being inside the outer banks hospital. he jumped in his car, not even thinking twice. he drove straight to you.

he gave himself a prep talk, telling himself to just remain calm and to see what was going on. he walked into the hospital, his eyes searching for you. he didn’t see anyone he recognized until he saw pope, with your phone situated in his hand. he walked towards pope, snatching the phone from his arm. “why do you have this?” pope shook his head, muttering under his breath. “shit.”

“come on pope. spit it out.” pope shook his head. “rafe, before you do this protective bullshit, just know i’m actually the one who saved them.” rafe stared at pope, confused. “saved them? from what? what do you mean saved them?” rafe questioned pope, “someone crashed into them while they were driving to you. they found me and i rushed them here.” rafe stared at pope. “how bad is it?”

pope shrugs. “i’m sorry, i really don’t know much. they said they were t boned, their head hit the window and the steering wheel. we drove by the car, it’s totaled. crashed into a pole.” rafe continued to stare at pope with wide eyes. “what… how long ago was this?” pope looked out the hospital windows. “a little after they left their house i’d say. it was a seven minute drive from my house to the crashed car, so i’d say five minutes.” rafe sat in the seat directly to popes left.

rafe was breathing erratically. his mind running wild with the amount of possible outcomes. the nurse walks out into the waiting room; and calls your name. rafe immediately stands up walking forward. “we believe the car crash caused them to undergo serious head trauma. no signs of internal bleeding; but we are still checking everyone in a while. you can go back and talk to them if you want.” the nurse smiles softly. rafe looks back at pope, and pope nods his head.

rafe continues, following after the nurse as she leads him to your waiting room. when he walked inside, you were peacefully sleeping. “they should be waking up soon. we truly believe that they will be okay.” rafe nodded at the nurse, watching as she left him. rafe’s hand reached up to yours, grabbing it. he scooted the chair closer to the bed. rafe quickly texted pope saying that he was okay to leave, and that he would keep pope updated.

the wait at the doctors felt like hours, but rafe stayed with you the whole time. he had sat on the chair by your bed, his hand always holding yours. the nurse comes back in. “i’m sorry sir, but visiting hours are over, usually we would allow people to stay the night but in this case they really need rest and if they wake up and you’re here; they will force themselves to talk to you.” rafe frowned, “they have a chance to wake up, and now you want me to go home?” the nurse frowns at him. “i’m sorry, but they need to sleep as much as they can, you can see them bright and early tomorrow morning at seven am.” rafe slowly lowers his head. “okay.”

he walks out of the hospital room, and to his car. he decides he will go home, get clothes prepared for you, and will try to figure out your car situation. then he would sleep, wake up, and meet you at the hospital right when visitation opens. he put his seatbelt on, driving home.

when rafe reached his house he realized that his dad's car had crashed in the front. it looked gruesome. rafe walked inside, greeting his dad. his dad nodded his head in response, walking away. rafe went straight to wheezy, his sister. he knocked on her door and went to open it. “rafe?” she questions him. he looked around. “what happened to dad's car?” he hoped wheezy knew. she tilted her head inviting him inside her room.

she began to whisper. “okay, so basically like our dad t boned someone on the outside of the cut, and he said it’s completely the other person's fault; but sarah believes that’s not true unless he didn’t actually t bone someone, and he was actually just getting brake checked on the highway. how could it not be his fault?” wheezy looked up at rafe’s face and was utterly shocked by his expression.

“rafe? why are you looking at me like that?” wheezy tilted her head to the side, confused. “our father is the reason..” rafe shakes his head, now pacing up and down the floor. you were in the hospital, because of his father. he filled wheezy in, telling her about what happened with you. she gasps in shock. “what are you going to do?” wheezy watched him, he was frantic. “i’m, i think i’m going to confront him.” wheezy half smiled, “okay. you got this! good luck!”

rafe left his sisters room and head to his fathers office. he was always scared of his father, now more than ever, but he needed answers. he knocked three times on the door, and his father opened it, to reveal himself. “hello rafe.” he walks inside, sitting on the chair in front of his desk. “dad, i know you are the reason the car is crashed; and you are the reason someone very important to me is in the hospital.” his dad stood up, straightening his back. “no. they twisted the story, now out. i won’t have you critique me in my own room.” rafe wanted to stand his ground, but he knew he should back down.

he didn’t want to waste all his energy, he still needed to prepare to see you. rafe went straight to his room, picking out a pair of his sweatpants, and a hoodie for you to change into after you get released from the hospital. he put the extra clothes including a pair of your socks into a baggy. rafe speedily changed into pajamas, and hopped into bed. hoping the morning would come faster.

rafe woke up at 6:20am. he had taken a quick shower and changed into new clothes. he grabbed your bag of clothes and hopped into his car. he drove straight to the hospital. he had arrived five minutes before visitation started.

at 7am on the dot, rafe was walking to your room. you were awake, the frown on your face caused his heart to drop. “hey baby.” you glanced up at him and softly smiled. “hey rafe.” he smiles in return. “how are you? i brought you extra clothes.” he lifted the baggy up, before setting it on the extra chair. you reach your hand out to him, and he swiftly moves closer to you. he pulls the chair up once again, sitting directly by your side. “i would have stayed here all night but i was kicked out.” you nod at his words, “sound about right.”

he smiles, his hand tracing shapes on your palm. “how are you feeling?” you wait. “i’m okay. the doctor said the worst thing i have is a concussion. they said if all the other tests come back good, then i’ll be cleared to go home.” he nods smiling, “yay! we’ll be able to take you home!” you bite your lip containing your smile, but it quickly turns sour. you frown at him.

“i’m sorry, rafe.” you look away from him, avoiding eye contact. “for what?” he questions, his heart speeding up scared at what you are about to apologize for. “for missing our date, i really wanted to go.” you frown. he cups your chin. “it’s okay, trust me. i already have it rescheduled,” he looks over at you. “so once you get better, we can go on like we originally planned.” the room went silent, the only thing being heard was the heart rate machine slowly beeping.

“rafe i love you.” he smiles. “i love you too.” you nod contentedly. the doctor walks in, “good morning. today you’ll be able to go home. you seem to only be suffering from a concussion. you’ll have to stay home and rest, don’t do too much or else you’ll be delaying the inevitable. the less time you relax, the longer you’ll be suffering.” rafe talked to the doctor as you played with the tape from the iv inside your hand.

rafe nodded. the nurse came over to you, taking the iv out, as well as the square patches that covered your chest. she left, shutting the door, allowing you to get dressed in new clothes. you frown, the medicine they gave you makes you feel slightly sluggish. “i’ll help you, don’t worry.” rafe untied the medical gown, he slipped it off. he grabbed the hoodie, placing it over your head. you slip your arms through the holes, rafe’s smell surrounding you.

you sit up in the bed, your feet over the edge. you hiss at the cold floor which hits your sock less feet, making you cold. rafe slid his sweatpants on to you. you go to stand up, but he stops you. “let’s put your socks on first, the hospital floor is cold.” you sit back down on the bed. his hand reaches for your foot, it is cool around his hand. he slid your socks on, and then the sweatpants. finally putting your shoes on. “thank you rafe.” he tied the plastic bag shut, it now filled with your old clothes. “anytime baby, i’m always here for you.” you stand up, your hand slipping into his hand, his arm stabilizing you.

the nurse walked in. “the medicine we gave you should be wearing off shortly. that’s why you seem so… out of place.” the nurse nodded, signing you out. the nurse walked you to rafes car. fear began to creep up, now nervous to be in a car again. “it’s okay, you’ll be okay.” you nod. you sit yourself in the passenger seat. rafe thanked the doctors, before running to his side of the car. he hopped in, putting his seatbelt on. he looked over to you, making sure you were okay. he drove extra careful, going straight to your house.

once you arrive at your house, the medicine wears off allowing you to be able to be yourself. you walked to your front door. rafe used his spare key to unlock the door. once inside you go straight to your room, rafe following after you. you lay down on the bed, you pat the spot by you; and rafe sat down by you. he cuddled with you. his head finding its way in your neck, his arms wrapping around your torso.

after a few minutes of silence you spoke up. “your dad is the one that hit me. he ran through a red light.” rafe frowned against your neck, whispering. “i know.” you nod, your hand running through his hair. “okay.” you smile softly, closing your eyes. falling asleep with rafe by your side.

<33

[muffindaddystyles]

My love I have read your almost all fics before but today for some reason I read almost I had read them again. What can I see I'm absolutely enamoured by each one of 'em 🌻🌻🌻.

My best wishes to you keep writing and keep prospering ✨

And for my request if you can write a blurb for the memory loss fic about them having a baby they talked about that would be really sweet 🥺 No pressure.

🌞 Anon

THANK YOUUU SM BUTTONS! YOUR LOVE MAKES ME FEEL SO WARM! Y'ALL COULD REQUEST WHENEVER UUUU GUYS FEEL LIKE

HIREATH (Y/N looses her memory from getting into an accident and Harry loves her all over again)

It all began with the weekly cleansing of their home. Yes, home. After months and months of getting accustomed to every creak of floorboard, the corner of hallway where sun shines the brightest, the tiny library Y/N loves to spend time with Harry – she has finally come to terms with calling this big sleek house her home, her most comfy space.

And Harry her person.

She has got a bunch of her memories back but other half still haunts her to sleep and she memorises the one she has a grip on to never let them slip and to cherish them till they grow old together.

While Harry had his head butted into some dusty corner to retrieve some boxes Y/N went through drawers to clean the cluster out, they both were singing ‘I’m always by your side’ by John Park.

Though, halfway through it Y/N stopped. She felt like the words choked her throat with tears bubbling in her eyes and her fingers trembled as she flipped the frame that has yellow and lilac chunky hearts on it’s borders.

“Can we have a family of ours? I've some affection for another pair of little bambi eyes.” She doesn’t remember writing it back there and it hurts her like a painful stab.

You don’t remember the most important detail of your own damn life, what a sadist.

She scoffed to herself.

When Harry didn’t hear the saccharine hum of her wife his head perked up, “Lovie?” His smile that was fluttering up from hearing their favourite part coming up and him about to be yelling at her to sing it with him dropped wrenchingly when he heard those sniffles.

“Baby.” He rounded towards her worriedly. Massaging her shoulder to make her look at him and the sorrow in his’s loves eyes broke his heart into shards tumbling him to his knees infront of her.

“What happened, darling?” He asked cupping her cheek gently and ran his thumb over her wobbling damp lip.

She just shook her head and sucked through her teeth, dollops of tears fell on Harry’s cheeks and sobbed into his hand with her eyes bolted shut.

“’M sorry!” Harry frowned when she apologised stroking her nose into his wrist, “Sorry f'what sweet pie?” He asked getting more concerned every second ticked by.

“That you wanted a family with me and I ruined that f'you ...” Her hiccups went breathless and Harry’s heart thumped into outer space for some seconds, he completely forgot about that lil present.

“Shh. Shh. ‘s okay me sweet girl, shh c’mon. Nothing’s ye fault. ‘M happy that you’re safe, healthy and happy in my arms, yeah?” He went to hug her and let her cuddle into him and she breathes his tangerine vanilla-y scent to calm herself down.

“Are you happy, though?” His tone was uncertain and his irises lurked with hope.

“Very.” He sighed in relief when She squeezed his fingers and bobbed her head profusely with that cute shy smile of hers, “Then all set! ... and fo’ babies my love we could have them whenever y'want,” He grazes his palm down her spine in smooth circles, “Whenever you’re ready.” He affirmed her in his most loving and assuring voice.

“Can we try for it now?” Harry’s brows shot up at her timid and hesitant whisper, his eyes glossed with tears of happiness because he thought he'd never be able to see this moment in his all life.

He pets her hair down her head and kissed her forehead, arms wounding around her shoulders to embrace her protectively and sentimentally.

“You want a tiny me and a tiny you!?” He grinned pushing her back gently to look down at her with cheerful eyes, when she bobbed her head with equal enthusiasm and excitement he turned all soft and mushy -- palm pressing against her belly.

“Want me t’put a baby in this pretty tummy of yours?” He smooched pecks on her lips, then kissed her compassionately at her honest confession that she actually wants what he’s been wanting for ages.

She wants to be the mommy of his babies.

.

Y/N's 6 months pregnant. With Harry’s bub. In a phase of it where her skin's all glassy and glowing, her eyes angelic and they grow proper lil suns on the sight of her hubby coming back home early to them.

Harry’s been never happier than this. He feels as if the whole world’s yarned up into his pocket.

He makes sure that his lovin’ is feeling comfy and pleased everytime, staying awake with her till mornings -- eating snacks and her weird cravings with her to make her feel less bad about it, taking care of her diet plans and her health, loads of love making and satiating sex, he’s always there to wipe her tears and listen to her tantrums all caused from her maternal hormones.

“Harry! Bambi eyed!!” She’s been sprawled on their deep snuggly sofa watching telly when she felt the baby moving around inside her while Harry swirled more cream on their strawberry pies.

“What happened –.. wait.” Anxiously Harry rushes back only to be met by his overly joyed girl as she huffs trying to sit up, “Come watch my belly, our baby’s havin’ a dance party inside here!” She giggles and forwards her hand for him to grab.

“Gimme your hand! Gimme! Gimme!”

“Is that so?” Harry smiles fondly wrapping his arm around her waist and pulling her from back to his chest, “Don’t hear any music babe.” He teases her planting his ear against her swollen belly all of his teeth showing brightly when he feels a small prod against his cheek.

“Our bub just kicked!!” He squeals, smacking a little rushy kiss to her lips then again fixes himself back to his favourite spot.

Every night he reads books to the baby and listens to music with headphones around her belly in this exact spot.

“Harry ...” Y/N scratches his head and runs her fingers through his curls hoping that there lil one get them as walnutish and pretty.

“Do y'think I’ll be a good mother?” At that Harry moves all his attention on her and makes scooches her nearer to her, “Why’d y'ask that baby?” He asks brushing the loose strands of her hair way.

“Dunno.” She shrugs clutching the hem of his hoodie, “I don’t remember stuff from our past – sometimes I forget too much and then it comes all back. What if in old age my amnesia hits back and they'd get too annoyed by me.” There comes the pregnancy whining and wild thinking, messy tears and anxious thoughts.

“Moppet ...” Harry sighs, closing his eyes and kisses her cheeks.

“You’re g'na be the best mommy ever! Knows that they’ll love you endlessly, darling. Your memories doesn’t change the person you’re – my love, my life, the momma of my babies, you’re doin’ so good.” She giggles through her sniffles when Harry showers her in loud slobbery kisses.

“Watermelon with peanut butter sounds so good right now.” She murmurs into his neck and Harry’s glad she’s all bunched up in his arms because he did most disgusting face he could ever scrunch up.

“But, I just made y’a pie!” He whines counting on his fingers when she bursts into tears upon hearing that.

“Cute. Thank you. But, your baby wants that.” She pokes him in ribs and gives him the most puppy eyes ever.

“Alright. Not joining along though.” He gives her a pointed look and plucks her pout.

“Harry! Promise it’ll taste s’good.”

“I bet.” He quips, creating comical gagging noises.

“Meanie.” She grumps trying to bite his earlobe mischievously.

[love-and-monsters]

In the Woods

M forest creature X F human, 5,671 words. 

The world has ended and strange creatures now roam the Earth. You survived the end, but can you manage to make your way in this strange new land?

The trees above my head groaned and snapped. I froze, pressing my stomach to the ground. Something skittered through the branches, tiny claws scratching against the bark. It was probably a squirrel. It was almost definitely a squirrel. Regardless, I pressed myself close to the ground until it was gone.

When the forest was still and silent again, I pushed myself to my feet. My muscles were stiff and achy. I’d broken my back building my garden yesterday, and, regardless, I had to tromp through the woods in search of something to eat.

Despite my aches and pains, the hunger gnawing at my stomach, I was still one of the lucky ones. I was alive.

The Surge had happened nearly three months ago. Within two weeks, every major city had been leveled. The ground itself seemed to reach up, like the Earth was trying to slough off its outer skin. Plants had grown lighting quick, vines and roots overwhelming steel and stone within moments. Aftershocks had wracked the globe for another month, but when it was over, there was precious little of humanity left.

And then they had come. Strange creatures. Some of them looked human. Some of them did not. I avoided them. They were unnatural beings, things that grew plants from their bodies and were impervious to attack. I’d been with another group, for a while. The creatures shrugged off bullets and plants jumped to their command. I had been the only survivor.

I had no interest in fighting them anymore. The Earth was gone. I hadn’t seen another human in weeks. For all I knew, I was the only one left. I hoped not, but even if I wasn’t, I didn’t have much hope of ever finding another one.

I’d been lucky to find even a small patch of land to carve out a home in. I’d managed to scrounge up a tent and some blankets, located a few wild plants to start a garden, and even found some prepared food, though not a lot.

Hunting was my main way of sourcing food. I set several snares every night. Guns were difficult to find, bullets were worse, and even if you managed to locate both of them, they almost certainly didn’t go together. Knives didn’t run out of bullets and, providing the snares weren’t badly damaged, I could reuse them.

A rabbit already dangled from my belt. I was getting better at butchering them, and I was glad for its thick fur. Winter was on its way, and I could use all the warming items I could get.

Most of the traps were empty. I reset them one by one and headed to the snare closest to my camp. It was rare that there was anything in that one- maybe the animals knew I was there and didn’t trust the area.

Something crunched as I approached. I froze. The crunching continued. It didn’t seem to be getting closer or further away. There was a wet tearing noise and a sickening snap and my stomach rolled over. That wasn’t something moving through the undergrowth. That was the sound of something eating.

I crept slowly forward, shuffling my feet so I wouldn’t step on any twigs. I slipped behind a tree, breathing deeply. When I was sure I had myself under control, I peeped in the direction of the sound.

There was something hunched over the snare. The wet, snapping noises came from the corpse of a groundhog, which had been pulled open, its red, dripping flesh spread across the ground. The hunched figure was humanoid, roughly. Its limbs were long and spindly, with its fingers coming to dark brown points. Twisting, gnarled branches sprouted from its head, though they were small, probably so they wouldn’t impede its movement. It had long, deep green hair that fell loose down its back. It seemed to be wearing a long coat that flowed around it when it moved. The creature ripped chunks off the dead animal and bit down on them, messily tearing into them.

I gagged. I couldn’t help it. The creature’s messy smacking was disgusting. One of its pointed ears twitched and it spun around.

It was nearly seven feet tall, standing on thin, bony legs. It balanced on its toes, feet elongated like a four-legged animal. Red was smeared all down its front. Its face was human-esque, but its mouth had only sharp teeth and its eyes were flat green, no pupil or sclera. Its chest was the oddest part- it shouldn’t have been able to live. I could see its ribcage, but it seemed to be made out of gnarled wood. There was no skin stretched over its chest. Instead, there seemed to be a small bush in its ribcage, with tiny flowers sprouting out between the bones. It still lifted and fell with breathing, even though it didn’t seem to have any lungs.

Cold terror made me freeze. My knees were trembling. I brandished my knife, but I had no illusions. If this thing wanted to kill me, I would be dead. It could breathe without lungs. How would I even start to kill it?

We stared at each other. The creature cocked its head to one side. A long, slender tongue flicked out of its mouth, trailed around its lips. It seemed to be assessing me as much as I was assessing it.

We stood there for several long moments. I was almost afraid to breathe. Curiosity seemed to be the only thing keeping me alive.

Something snapped a few feet to my left. The creature’s head swiveled, ears twitching. It snarled, baring its red-stained teeth, then plunged off into the undergrowth. There was a crashing, snapping noise that got fainter as it moved away.

I let out a slow breath. Relief made me dizzy. It was gone. I had lived.

Mechanically, I cleared the trap, dragging the dead body away from it. I wasn’t eating it. Scavengers could have it. After some consideration, I reset it. If the creature came back, then I would consider moving it, but I wasn’t shifting it on a one-off. Maybe the creature was just passing through.

I headed back to my tent and butchered the rabbit. It was tasty, juicy. I tended my garden, making sure that everything was properly arranged before I headed to bed.

I didn’t sleep well that night. There was something howling in the woods, a constant screaming that sounded like a cross between a wildcat and a human.

Over the next few days, I became more and more convinced that seeing the creature hadn’t been a one-off. I didn’t see it hunched over, crunching on any more raw animals, but I saw signs of it. Traps that had clearly been tampered with, that had scraps of fur and blood on them, but hadn’t been reset. Trails of disturbed dirt around my camp. Claw marks on the trees, roughly around the creature’s height.

I didn’t like the fact that one of those things had set up camp near me and was stealing my food, but I wasn’t sure there was anything I could do. I hadn’t seen it again, and I was fairly sure I couldn’t drive it off. The only thing I could do was hope I kept avoiding it.

The howling at night hadn’t stopped. It seemed to be getting closer. The sound seeped into my dreams.

It was a chilly morning when I stepped outside to find a dead deer sprawling in the middle of my camp.

I froze. The doe had been killed by something with claws and teeth, its throat torn open and stomach slashed in ragged edges. But it hadn’t been savaged or eaten like it should have been. And it hadn’t been killed here. My camp wasn’t disturbed and I hadn’t heard the sounds of a struggle in the night. Something had killed the deer, dragged it to my camp, and left it for me.

There was a tingling sensation on the back of my neck, like something was watching me. I looked around. Nothing.

Was the deer a threat? ‘If you stay here, this will happen to you.’ I couldn’t move. I’d set up a life here. Moving would mean abandoning most of my belongings and starting over. With winter bearing down on me, it would be a death sentence.

I dragged the deer a short distance away. If this thing wanted to drive me out, it was going to have to do it the hard way. I wouldn’t be taking its threats.

My traps were undisturbed for the first time in a while. There was a chubby groundhog in one of them, which was nice. I attached it to my waist and returned to camp.

It seemed undisturbed. That was reassuring. I tried to fortify the camp a little more, setting up a makeshift fence. I was pretty sure it wasn’t going to stop anything, but it made me feel a little safer.

There was a pile of small animals in my camp when I woke up the next morning. They’d all had their necks neatly snapped and were arranged together neatly. Something intelligent had placed them there.

I buried them outside of camp. The tingling feeling of being watched was worse than ever.

The noises at night were getting closer. I could barely sleep. They were close by, just outside of camp. I kept thinking of that thing I’d seen in the woods, the human frame with those green eyes and strange, open chest.

Animals kept appearing in my camp. They varied in size and killing style- some of them had their necks snapped, some were messily eviscerated, some had simple, clean killing cuts. I dragged them out of camp each time. The amount of corpses was starting to disturb me. They were going to attract scavengers to my camp.

Several days after the corpses had started appearing, I emerged from my tent to see the creature hunched in the clearing. It was crouching over the dead body of a stag. There were no visible wounds on it. It could have been sleeping, except for the unnatural angle of its neck.

The creature froze, staring up at me. Its blank, green eyes betrayed no emotion. My heart thundered in my chest. I didn’t even have my knife on me- it was still in the tent. I’d gotten careless. If this thing killed me, it was totally my own fault.

The creature looked back down at the stag, then, slowly, deliberately, it pushed the carcass toward me. It looked up at me, back down at the stag, then up at me again. Its lips parted over its many sharp teeth.

“Good?” Its voice wasn’t what I was expecting. I thought, if such a thing could speak, it would have a rasping, unnatural quality to it. There was a strange tone to it, an echo that made it sound like two people were speaking at once. The dominant voice, though, was a baritone and surprisingly soothing.

“You can talk?” I said. The creature blinked at me. It took a moment to parse my words, then it rose to its full height. At nearly seven feet tall, it towered over me.

“Is this acceptable?” One of its hands spread, gesturing down to the carcass at its feet. I gaped at it, uncertain what it meant. It waited, still as a statue.

I licked my lips. There was an odd sense in the air, like I was partaking in some kind of ceremony I didn’t understand. But the creature was clearly offering the stag to me, and it felt improper to reject the gift. I took a deep, steadying breath.

“Yes. It’s… acceptable.” There was a faint quaver in my voice. “Thank you.”

The creature bent into a deep bow. Without another word, it turned and walked back into the forest.

I stared after it until it had completely vanished from view, then sank to the ground. My hands were shaking as I examined the carcass. I tried to review everything that I knew. The creature was the one that had been bringing me dead animals. Accepting the gift had some kind of significance, I was sure, but I didn’t know what it was. Stories of fairy deals and people being spirited away marched through my head. I shook them off. Whatever the creature wanted, it didn’t seem to want to drag me off anywhere.

I spent the rest of the day in my camp, carefully butchering the carcass. Maybe it was a bad idea to accept the gift, but I had to admit that it was a lot of meat. Properly dried, it could last a while, maybe over the whole winter.

It was silent that night. I finally managed to get a peaceful night’s sleep.

The creature was still gone when I emerged in the morning. And yet, the tingling feeling of being watched was worse than ever. Every nearby rustle or snap of a twig made me jump. Sometimes, I thought I saw something shifting between the trees, but it vanished whenever I tried to get a look at it. I couldn’t bring myself to leave camp again.

There was no avoiding going out the next day, though. The traps needed to be checked, and I needed to forage. It only took me a few minutes to realize I was being followed.

I couldn’t see what was following me, but I could hear it padding through the undergrowth behind me. I was pretty sure I knew what it was. The creature seemed to be content to follow me from a distance, so I tried to be content just ignoring it. I managed to catch one or two glimpses of it as it slunk through the foliage, but it was pretty good at staying out of sight.

It was as I was checking the trap furthest from my camp that I heard it. The heavy, crushing footfalls of a behemoth.

Behemoth was the general, catch-all term for the oversized monsters that roamed the lands now. They were enormous, unstoppable, and virtually unkillable. I’d seen one get hit with a missile and keep moving. When I’d been with other humans, a behemoth in the area prompted a mass exodus. You didn’t engage. You just ran.

I turned, slowly, and saw it moving through the trees. It looked like some horrifying combination between a bear and a moose. Larger than either, it had a great, sloping body patched in moss. Enormous antlers sprouted from its head, with points like spears, and its muzzle was large and full of jutting teeth.

Its head was low enough that I could see its enormous eyes rolling around to focus on me.

A growl vibrated from its chest, loud enough to set my bones trembling. I scrambled back, but fear was making my limbs numb and clumsy. There wasn’t a point in running, not really. It could catch me easily. And this one was enormous and heavy, ready to bulk up for winter. There was no way it was going to pass up such an easy meal.

I couldn’t turn to run. I couldn’t take my eyes off the enormous, saliva covered teeth as the behemoth opened its mouth. It could snap me in two with a single bite. A solid certainty formed itself in the pit of my stomach. I was going to die here.

There was an echoing, enraged shriek from behind me. I whirled around just in time to see a pale, slender form bolt out of the undergrowth and lungs at the behemoth.

The creature, the one that had been following me, had sprung to an impressive height and attached itself to the behemoth’s face. The behemoth staggered backward, swinging its great head back and forth. Its scream was great and keening, loud enough to make me clap my hands over my ears. The creature seemed undeterred. It raised a clawed hand and plunged it down, gouging a create cavern in the behemoth’s eyes.

Blood sprayed down from the behemoth’s face. I gaped. It was bleeding. I’d never seen one injured. I didn’t know they had blood. But the creature was tearing into it as easily as it would tear into any other animal.

With another grating scream, the behemoth turned away. Apparently, I was no longer worth the effort. The creature dropped from its face and screeched after it, claws digging furrows into the ground.

The thundering footsteps of the retreating behemoth sounded for several minutes in the otherwise silent forest. The creature stared after it, stiff and focused as a hunting cat. When the behemoth’s footsteps had finally faded into silence, it whipped its head back toward me.

Blood trailed down its front. It was dark, almost oily, and an odd sort of rust color. I froze. Had it chased off the behemoth because it wanted to eat me itself? But then why hadn’t it just killed me before?

The creature approached me so its face was only an inch from mine. Its solid green eyes bored into mine. Then it reached out and took my shoulders in its hands, fingertips trailing along my skin.

“Safe,” it said in a tone that could almost be described as soothing. “Unhurt?”

I gaped at it. The creature tilted its head further to one side. “Unhurt?” it repeated. It was asking me, I realized.

“Yes,” I said. “I’m… I’m okay.” I hesitated for a moment. “Thank you.”

Its strange chest rose as it took in another breath. Then it leaned forward, nestling its face into my neck. Its arms came around me in something like a hug. It made a long, quiet noise of satisfaction before pulling back.

It- he- had saved me. I swallowed and slowly climbed to my feet. He watched me, unmoving. After a moment of hesitation, I unhooked a rabbit from my belt and handed it to him. It seemed right.

He took it from me with surprising delicacy. His head lowered and his jaws snapped shut around a chunk of flesh, tearing it from the bone. I grimaced at the wet snapping and tearing.

He followed me as I continued on to the rest of my traps. This time, he didn’t even bother to hide himself. He walked just behind me or at my side, munching on chunks of rabbit. I kept glancing back at him. He blinked back at me.

I’d sort of expected him to break away when we made it back to camp, but he strolled into the clearing like he belonged there. I watched him as he padded around the edges of the camp, sniffing at things. I couldn’t very well drive him off- if he could injure a behemoth, there was no way I was going to beat him in a fight. And his presence was certainly less unsettling than it had been a few days ago. But I didn’t know what he was doing here. What did he want?

When I headed inside my tent for the night, he made to follow me. I froze in the entrance, staring back at him. Fighting him was still out of the question, but I did not want him in my tent with me. There was a long, tense pause, then the creature backed away and slunk to roughly the center of the camp. He curled up into a tight ball, apparently trying to sleep.

I retreated into the tent and wrapped blankets around me. There was something strangely forlorn about him curling up in the middle of camp, alone. He looked… small. Harmless. The unsettling feeling twisted in my stomach until I fell asleep.

He was still in camp when I woke up, ripping chunks off a fat squirrel. He made a soft humming noise as I walked toward him.

“You’re still here, huh,” I said. Talking to him felt weird. I knew he could talk back, but it still felt odd to try and have a conversation with him. He looked back at me steadily. He looked neither confused, nor comprehending. “I don’t know what you want.”

If he could understand me, he didn’t seem to want to answer. He just ripped another chunk off the squirrel and chewed it, still looking at me.

When he was done eating, he stalked around the camp, examining the border. Often, he would reach up and run his claws down the length of a tree, leaving long scores in the bark. I watched him as he completed a circuit, then started fussing at the small barrier I’d created. He seemed to be trying to build it up.

And so it went for several days. The creature stayed in the camp with me, building up a small barrier around the edge of the camp. Whenever I went out to check traps, he would follow me. Occasionally, he would hunt, dragging carcasses back to camp. He always allowed me to take some of whatever he brought. Eventually, I found myself offering a section of my hunts to him. It only seemed fair. A tense sort of partnership had formed between us. As odd as it was, I had gotten used to him. I was enjoying having some company. When I woke in the morning and he wasn’t present, I found a stab of loneliness sinking in between my ribs.

He meandered back into camp near midday, hands cupped around something. I glanced up at him. “Hey,” I said. “What have you got there?”

He opened his hands. There were clumps of bright red berries in his hands. He held them out to me, head tilted, waiting.

“Uh.” I didn’t recognize the berries and, with no leaves or branches to help identify them, I wasn’t going to eat them. “Sorry. I don’t think I can eat those. You can have them.” He blinked at me and extended his hands again. “Uh, no. I can’t have those.” I reached out and carefully curled his fingers over them. His hands were surprisingly warm. I was rather expecting them to be cold and corpse-like. Something twisted in my chest, a wave of loneliness that I couldn’t quite choke back. I was so unused to having someone with me. I’d managed to bury the feelings of loneliness, but they were starting to come bubbling back up.

He stared at me for a moment, then walked toward the edge of the camp, munching on the berries. I went back to the tending the fire. It was starting to frost overnight and the fire was becoming more and more necessary. If I wasn’t huddled close to it, I was walking around to keep my body temperature up. Despite not wearing much more than a cloak and pants, the creature seemed unbothered. He slouched next to the fire, staring into it. I could see the fire reflected in his eyes, a burning emerald flame.

As soon as the sun started to lower, the cold really set in. The sun and the fire were the only bits of warmth in the bitingly cold air and without one of them, the chill came on swiftly and remorselessly. There was no going back to the tent. I huddled next to the fire, shivering. The flame kept guttering in the wind. Leaving the fire to grab extra bits of wood was painful, my fingers stiffening in the cold and my skin almost burning in the wind. I huddled in on myself, wrapping fur over my body. It was still early winter and I was already half-mad from the cold. How was I going to survive the really bad months?

Something nudged my leg. I looked over. The creature was crouched next to me, half his face illuminated by the firelight. The sharp planes of his face made harsh shadows dance over his features.

“Need something?” I said. The creature pressed close to me. He was warm against me, driving the shivers out of me.

Slowly, like he was trying to give me a chance to stop him, he wrapped his cloak around my shoulders. He pressed me in close to his side. Warmth radiated over me, like there was a miniature sun beaming out from his chest.

I leaned into him. If I closed my eyes, I could pretend that there was a human there with me. His hand pressed gently to my back, and where his fingers lay, warmth radiated through my skin. I wrapped my arms around his waist and pulled him closer. My shivering abated somewhat.

Once I was feeling better, I looked up at him. He was blinking down at me, his green eyes difficult to read, but still utterly focused on me.

“Why are you doing this?” Speaking was a little difficult. Breathing in seemed to freeze my lungs. But being close to his warmth helped, and the curiosity was eating at me. He looked down at me. I wasn’t really expecting an answer, but his mouth opened and his voice issued softly forth.

 “Protect you.” His voice was whispery, still with that strange double-tone.

“Protect me,” I repeated. He lowered his head until his chin was resting on top of my head. I could smell him, I realized. It was sort of pine-like, with a smell under that, like sawdust.

“Pack protects pack,” he said. His chest shifted as he drew in a deep breath. “We are pack now.”

“We’re… a pack?” I tried to make sense of his words.

He drew back a little bit so he could look down into my face. “You accepted my offering,” he said. “We have exchanged prey. We are bound now- a pack.”

Things fell together in my mind rather quickly. The marking of trees, the prey dragged into the camp, the way he had lunged to my rescue- he was trying to impress me. He was courting me. And in giving him the rabbit, I had accepted.

I leaned into his chest. It shifted, and his arms came tighter around me. For the first time in a long time, I had a companion. An image of him leaping out to protect me filtered into my mind. A small smile tugged at me mouth.

“Okay. We’re a pack,” I said. And just like that, it was no longer me against the world. It was the two of us.

Underneath me, somewhere in that strange, hollow chest, a rumbling purr started.

I spent most nights with him after that. He was incredibly warm and when I wrapped a blanket around the both of us, it was impossible to be cold.

The first snows came and I carefully kept the camp free of as much snow as I could manage. He focused more on creating a stronger barrier around the camp, fussing with brambles and branches. There was much less prey in the traps now, and I’d taken to ice fishing with little luck. He was much more skilled at catching animals than I was now, and every few days he would bring back some small morsel to the camp. I was always fed first, and he would only eat after I was done. I found myself wondering exactly why I’d been so afraid of him in the first place- after watching him catch snowflakes on his tongue and chatter insistently whenever I didn’t finish a meal, it was hard to see anything frightening in him.

Whenever I decided to check my traps, he came with me. It was reassuring, to have him there. If he could drive off a behemoth, I was fairly certain there wasn’t much that could bother him.

It was when we were checking the traps on the edge of our territory (I assumed it was the edge- he marked the trees there and didn’t like going beyond that boundary), that he stiffened. His pointed ears twitched. A low growl started in his chest and he bared his teeth.

I went still too, straining to listen. There was a faint rustling, like something was moving through the undergrowth. That wasn’t unusual, though, not enough to make him react like that. I drew closer to him and he shifted, like he was trying to cover me with his body.

“What is it?” I whispered. He pulled his lips back from his teeth, the growl coming deeper and stronger.

Something snapped nearby, the sound echoing through the stillness like a gunshot. Our heads whipped toward the noise in unison. He gave a resounding, challenging cry.

Slowly, something emerged from the bushes. It was like him, I realized. The same species, or whatever. They both had long hair, open, wooden chests that had flowers twining out of them. The newer creature didn’t have the small, branch-like antlers, though, and something about its posture or its shape made me think it was female. Regardless, she stood taller than him and her claws seemed longer.

He made a snarling noise that I interpreted as a warning. The other creature’s head turned as she looked between me and him. An expression like confusion crossed her face and she made a questioning noise.

He snarled out another warning, a thin strand of saliva dribbling from his bared teeth. The other creature considered him for a moment, then crouched down, teeth bared. The hairs on the back of my neck lifted. I recognized a hunting crouch when I saw one.

She lunged. He knocked me aside and took the brunt of her attack, rolling backward into the snow. I expected shrieking and snarling, but they were oddly silent as they rolled in the snow. All their energy was focused on defeating the other.

He was trapped beneath her, teeth snapping everywhere he could reach. She was struggling to keep a hold on him, but it was clear she was in a better position. Her claws dug into his side and her teeth snapped dangerously close to his throat.

I needed to do something. But what could I do? These things were practically indestructible, at least to humans. But I needed to help him. Her teeth snapped close to his throat again and he made a strangled whining sound.

Fuck it. I grabbed a stick from the ground and lunged. If she killed him, she was going to kill me anyway. Might as well die trying to protect him.            

I jammed the splintered end of the stick down into her face. It just barely missed her eyes, scoring a long, bleeding line down her cheekbone. She shrieked, startled, and turned to see her attacker.

It was the opening he needed. He drove into her, knocking her off him and into the ground beneath them. Before she could focus back on him, he swung down, claws plunging them deep into her shoulder. Blood sprayed into the white snow. With a final, agonized shriek, the other creature squirmed away and bolted back into the forest. He didn’t bother to pursue her. He just stood and watched as she vanished into the trees.

As soon as she was gone, he turned toward me. “Okay?” he asked, looking me up and down. “Safe?”

“Yeah, I’m all right. You?” He appeared uninjured, for the most part. There were a few small scratches and he was moving like he was in some pain, but he didn’t seem badly hurt.

“Bleeding,” he said, pointing a claw at me. I looked down. There was a long cut running down the length of my right forearm. It must have happened when she rounded on me. I hadn’t even been able to feel it. Now that I was aware of it, I could feel the stinging pain.

“Ow,” I said, probing at it lightly. It wasn’t particularly deep, but it wasn’t shallow, either. He moved closer to me and crouched, taking my arm delicately in his hands. His long, sinuous tongue slid out of his mouth and ran once along the cut. The pain grew dull, more of an unpleasant tingling than anything, and the blood dripped sluggishly.

“Home,” he said, tugging on my arm. He stayed close to me as we headed back to camp. We leaned on each other. I appreciated the comfort.

When we returned to camp, I dragged out my medical kit. He helped dress the wound, giving it a few more licks. I was a little leery about allowing him to clean it like that, but he seemed to know what he was doing. I figured it couldn’t hurt that much. Once it was fully wrapped, I lay down next to the fire. He lay down with me, arm draped over my body.

“Who was that, the one that attacked us?” I asked. Warm breath huffed against the back of my neck.

“Wanted a pack. Tracked my scent,” he said. “Was not happy that I already had a pack.”

“She recognized that we were… uh. A pack?” I said. There was an odd, fluttery sensation in my stomach.

“I claimed you,” he said. “My scent surrounds you. As your scent is around me.” He nuzzled closer to me. “We fought her off. She will not return. She knows she is beaten.”

“You did most of the work,” I said. He laughed.

“Would not have won without you.” He pressed his head into the back of my neck. “My mate.”

I looked up at him. “Mate?”

He nodded slowly. His eyelids were starting to droop. “The first two members of a pack are mates,” he said. “We will grow our pack over time. But not now.” He leaned into me, eyes closing. “Now we will wait.”

I reached up and stroked my fingers through his hair. He made a soft purring noise and leaned into me more. The world was different now, I thought. It was a place with new creatures, new ways to live, and you needed to be new in order to survive in it.

It was new, but perhaps it was good. With a yawn, I settled in against my mate for a nap.

[1plus1kiyoomi]

Chapter 5: THIS IS NOT A FAN MEETING

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[masterlist]

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“Are you nervous?” Osamu asks you as you look fidgety.

“What if he doesn’t like me?” You groan, playing with the seatbelt with your fingers. “I feel like he’s a very hard to impress guy.”

“Yeah, he is,” he chuckles, making you nervous even more. He finally parks in front of a traditional Japanese home near the road and you observe it carefully.

‘It’s bigger than I thought.’ You think as you get off the car. Osamu helps you with your bags then goes inside to call Kita. You start to panic, pacing around your bags in nervousness.

“Good afternoon, (y/n)-san,” a man greets you. You hesitantly raise your head to face him. “How was your flight?”

‘He’s way more handsome in person!’ You bite the inside of your cheek, stopping yourself from smiling. You bow to him, then see Osamu stopping himself from laughing. You at him and he raises his fingers to do a peace sign.

“Good afternoon, Kita-san. The flight was good,” you reply. You feel your face getting hot, so KIta goes close to you. ‘He even smells good!’

“Get in. You look like you’re hot,” Kita tells you as he takes the luggage from your hand.

“I know I’m hot,” you blurt out all of a sudden. Kita deadpans at you before going back to Osamu. The black haired man snorts, shaking his head.

“Is this your only bag?” Kita changes the topic.

“Ah, yes. I plan to buy my other things here,” you reply, following him get inside the house. You take your shoes off, carefully placing it at the shoe rack. You announce, “I’m getting in.”

You look around the house and your mind clouds. It’s your first time staying in such a small place. You can tell that the wooden walls and floor have never been changed. The sliding doors and window look just as old. But it’s clean. It’s bearable. That’s what you tell yourself.

“This is your room.” Kita stops at a door at the end of the hallway. You open the door and see your room. Your world stops.

No king-size bed.

No walk-in closet.

No attached bathroom.

No gaming table.

No vanity.

Just a room with a foam and single pillow on the floor. There’s a small wooden cabinet at the side, which can only probably fit the undergarments you brought. You enter the room a heavy heart. ‘I don’t think I can live here. I’m going to die.’

“Go settle down in your room first. Osamu and I will be just making dinner at the kitchen.” Kita’s words snap you out of your thoughts.

You nod at them and he closes the door. You carefully put your bag to the side and check the mattress. You poke it and it’s not the springy foam you’re used to. It’s thin, almost like your comforter. The blanket is made of cotton and you notice its newly washed smell.

“You’re already here. No more backing out,” you tell yourself, taking deep breaths in and out. You take your phone out of your bag and then leave the room to go to the two boys.

Kita notices you and motions you to sit on the dining room floor. He hands you a  pillow to sit on. He takes out a paper that says contract, so you gulp.

Are you sure about this? Are you really gonna stay here? Why are you even here at the first place? Just to pursue Kita? He doesn’t even like you back. Hell you don’t even know much about him.

Kita takes note of your troubled face so he flips the paper facing down. “You’re probably not used to staying at a place like this. Osamu can always take you back to the city proper if you feel uncomfortable.”

“No! No! It’s fine! I wanna see you every day!” The room falls silent from your sudden confession. Osamu clears his throat, continuing to slice the vegetables for dinner.

“Okay, then.” Kita flips the paper up, then slides it to you. “The monthly rent is 20,000 yen, the electricity and water bill included. Breakfast and dinner will also be free, that is if you want to eat here. During Sundays, my grandma comes over here to bring lunch.”

Kita goes on with the contract but you don’t listen. His accent and the pitch of his voice is giving you butterflies in your stomach. It’s soothing and addicting. You can listen to it all day. Even maybe at night. You bite your bottom lip, imagination going wild.

“I know you want to know how I want my eggs done in the morning, but you won’t get the answer to that if you don’t listen to me,” Kita says so you oblige. “I usually sleep at 9PM since I leave early in the morning. So if you’re coming home late, please be quiet as possible. Also no noises after 9.”

“Okay,” you nod and then an important matter pops into your mind. “But can I film vlogs before that time? I will be only in my room so don’t worry about your privacy.”

“Of course. If you need a bigger space for filming, you can use the veranda. It’s cooler there and has better lighting,” he tells you and you can’t stop yourself from smiling anymore. He sounds like your caring and supportive boyfriend which he will be if he finds a reason to fancy you.

“I think that’s all for now. If you need anything else, just tell me.” Kita stands from the floor and goes back to help Osamu. You just sit there and stare at him. 

You take in his build and realize it’s not that bad. He isn’t as tall as you want him to be but he’s a little taller than the average height. He’s not lanky as well. Even if he’s wearing an oversized shirt, you can clearly see the silhouette of his body. His broad shoulders and toned back. His muscular biceps and triceps probably from farming all day. His forearms are veiny, but it’s not too the point that it looks gross. It’s just enough to satisfy your taste. The thighs. You can’t even form words to describe how good it looks. How would it feel ri-

“(Y/N)-san, can you help us?” Kita calls so you shake the thoughts out of your head.

“Yes! Of course! What can I do to help?” You ask with a smile, eager to help in any way.

“Can you cook the rice?” He requests and your mind goes blank.

You’ve never cooked rice before.

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Facts:

The Great Wall of China is held together by sticky rice. Workers used a porridge made with rice along with calcium carbonate as a mortar to hold the wall's stones together.

All white rice starts brown. White rice is just brown rice that's been rid of its outer bran layer and polished.

More than half of the world’s population eats rice with at least 20% of their daily calorie intake.

There are more than 40,000 varieties of rice.

Notes: SO I WROTE THIS LIKE ON MY SECOND BOTTLE OF SOJU SO I DON’T KNOW HOW THIS TURNED OUT. I JUST WANNA SAY I LOVE YOU. THANKS FOR 500 <3

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Taglist:  @vicassa  @ptv-hades  @steggy4ever  @booklover240  @toripersonalacc @mkazuyuh  @smoltiddygf  @adrasteiaxandromedaa @leinnah  @a-applepi @kellesvt @xxlightsaberxx  @youpieceofwasabi @bandolls @wheelzzzies @apollochjld @sakusa-simp @neomuxuxi @aquzairus @ynjimenez @sempiternal-amour  @tnu-ree @mindofess @alittlebitofrain @agaashesmilktea​ @aquzairus @ynjimenez @sempiternal-amour @diyosku @dinablossom @atomicpie1115 @lililiynx

[spxllcxstxr]

Bumps and Bruises • M.M

(GIF is not mine)

Request: Hi! Sorry, May I ask for a Marlene McKinnon x fem!/gn! reader fic, Soulmate AU where they feel each other's pain. — anon

Summary: Two Quidditch rivals finding out they’re something...more (Soulmate AU)

Warnings: Mentions of food/eating, injury description, brief mention of blood

Word Count: ~2k

A.N: NonGryffindor!Reader, this is my first time doing a Soulmate AU so I hope this is ok! It’s hard to find a balance between Soulmate AU and normal AU, but I’m sure I’ll get better with it in practice! The ending is kinda iffy imo, but it’s not terrible. Hope you enjoy!

****

The first thing you feel when you wake up on Friday morning is a flare up of painful throbbing blossoming across the outer part of your right thigh.

You groan, prying your eyes open and pull back your blanket.

The pale light filtering through your curtains is enough to see the grotesque purpling of swollen skin. You poke and prod at your thigh, occasionally hissing out in agony.

The bruise is both familiar and unfamiliar at the same time.

Its circular shape is something you see all the time. As a Beater on your Quidditch team, Bludger bruises were commonplace. The issue is, and this is where the mark becomes unfamiliar to you, when you went to sleep last night, there was no evidence of any such mark.

This was peculiar because you never had a history of sleep Quidditch, and you’re sure that if you got up in the middle of the night in a trance, at least one of your dorm mates would’ve told you.

And this certainly wasn’t some accidental hitting your bed frame sort of injury. This was ten inches in diameter, black and blue like a ball of pure iron slammed into you. As a self proclaimed Quidditch expert, you’re fully aware of what caused this.

But this conclusion brings up more questions than answers. Sure, you had practice after classes yesterday, but you would remember being hit full force—and you don’t.

But you have no time to sit and ponder over this mystery, you have to make it down for breakfast and then endure hours of classes. If only you could skip ahead to tomorrow’s match against Gryffindor.

You limp your way through the dorm, unable to put the usual amount of weight on your right leg. The room is empty, save for Bedelia, who, as usual, is still snoring underneath her blanket. On your way out, you make sure to wake her up by slamming the door shut as hard as you can.

Hobbling down to the Great Hall with a bag of heavy books slung over your shoulder is no easy feat even when it’s something that constantly happens.

The Great Hall is buzzing, though most of the noise is coming from the Gryffindor table.

The ceiling reflects the morning, bright blue and not a cloud in sight.

By the looks of it, the Gryffindor Quidditch team just got back from their morning practice, still panting and sweaty. For the entire week leading up to a match, James Potter, their captain, makes them practice and go through relentless drills in preparation. When they’re not on the pitch, he’s quizzing them on maneuvers. You’re lucky that your captain and fellow Beater, Morgana Sharpe, gives you the day before a match off, mostly to rest and review. If Potter was your captain he would’ve ended up in St. Mungo’s by now.

Your eyes wander over to Marlene McKinnon, her blonde hair up in a bun, face red and splotchy from practice, bare arms showing off muscle. Her chest heaves under her scarlet top.

“Practicing getting your arses handed to you?” You joke, leaning against their table.

Marlene scoffs. “Oh, you wish.”

Her deep brown eyes find yours, a troublesome twinkle shining through.

“Focus, Marlene, can’t have you fraternizing with the enemy!” James laughs out between mouthfuls of eggs.

“More like flirting with the enemy.” Sirius snorts, leaning closer to Remus, who chuckles into his glass.

“Oi! Piss off, Black!” Marlene snaps, the red on her face spreading.

Dorcas squeezes in next to her, dittany in hand. “How’s the leg, Marls?”

“Aw.” You pout. “Did McKinnon get a boo boo during practice?”

She scowls at you. “Don’t you have a potion to blow up?”

You clench your jaw and ball your hand into a fist. She’s got a point.

“Alright, enough trash talk, you two, leave it for the pitch.” James rolls his eyes.

Instantly, a weight lifts from your shoulders.

“I gotta go eat, anyway.” You smile warmly at your sort of friends. “So I’ll see you guys in class.” You wave before turning to your own table.

You join the rest of your team the table, squeezing through the tight huddle. Parchment is scattered all over the surface, some with crude drawings of maneuvers, some with written stats.

“Right, now that we’re all here,” Sharpe grunts our in her thick Irish accent, shooting you a disgruntled look. “We have a change of plans.”

“Change of plans?” Webb, one of your Chasers, asks. He looks up from his diagram, eyebrows raised.

“Greene’s soulmate took a tumble and landed him in the hospital wing. Can’t play tomorrow’s match.” She scowls, drawing clenched tightly on her hand.

“Again?” Your team groans.

Rupert Greene spends more time in the hospital wing due to his soulmate’s clumsiness than from playing a dangerous magical sport. That’s the way it’s been for the four years you’ve known him, and you have a hunch that it’ll never change.

“So we’re gonna have to put in Knight? Against Gryffindor?” Webb cries out, eyes wide. “No offense, but he isn’t ready to take on those pricks!”

Sharpe runs a hand through her dark brown hair. “Well, I guess we all just need to pray to Merlin some Gryffindor gets knocked off their broom.” She sighs.

The news of Knight replacing Greene for the match against Gryffindor puts you in a sour mood, making the bruise on your thigh throb more painfully.

You march through the corridors, face contorted in a permanent frown, barely paying attention to your lessons. You do, however, manage to keep your potion from exploding, which Slughorn is thrilled about. Match notes and plays take over your free time, pushing all your homework to Sunday, quickly deciding that this match is far too important. Marlene sticks her tongue out at you whenever she gets the chance as she hobbles through the corridors or looks away from Flitwick in your shared Charms class.

Sharpe drags you and the rest of the team up to bed at nine, lecturing you all about a good night’s rest. You roll your eyes, but you do only spend half an hour studying moves before heading to bed.

You wake up jittery.

You’re always nervous the morning of normal Quidditch matches, but this isn’t a normal Quidditch match. Gryffindor has gone undefeated for the entire season so far, and you just need to beat them. You crave to watch the smug look fall from James’ face and the cocky attitude that Sirius is infamous for crumble. You want to win. At the same time, though, you’re hesitant to see the frown on Marlene’s face. Those perfect lips deserve to shaped in a perfect smile.

Your bruise isn’t as irritated as yesterday. It’s still black and blue, but you really need to dig your thumb into it for it to hurt.

You stretch, listening to your joints pop before strutting down to the Great Hall to join the rest of your team.

Taking a deep breath before making your way through the threshold, you try your best to calm down and radiate confidence. You crack your knuckles and make your way to your table.

Marlene throws you a playful glare across the room, which you teasingly reciprocate.

Breakfast is a quiet affair for your group. Feet tap impatiently against the stone, nervous habits running wild.

The weather is perfect for Quidditch. There’s a slight breeze and a couple fluffy white clouds drifting through the blue sky, providing the occasional blotch of shade. It reassures you and calms you down on your walk down.

Sharpe gives her usual pep talk in the locker rooms. It’s all about blood, guts, and glory, and how we better not mess this up for her or else “she’ll haunt us from the great beyond.” Knight is white as a sheet, trembling underneath his robes.

The crowd roars out from the stands just above, your cue to make your grand entrance. Brooms are taken off their positions in the wall and in a single filed line, you all follow Sharpe out onto the pitch.

“And here it is, everybody,” Remus’ voice calls out over the chaos. “Captain Sharpe, (Y/Ln), Webb, Byrne, Spade, Opal, and their reserve, Knight!”

Your house cheers louder at your introduction, your eardrums pounding. You smile and nod at the crowd, excitement bubbling up inside of you.

“While the two captains are taking positions and shaking hands,” You hear as you mount your broom, Potter and Sharpe facing each other. “I have been paid quite a significant amount to say that according to James Potter, Lily Evans looks absolutely gorgeous today—“

“That has nothing to do with the match, Lupin!” McGonagall cries.

“Godric, Minnie. I’m just doing some adverts, it’s all good. No need to—“

A large thwack echos throughout the pitch, but you’re too wrapped up in Hooch blowing the whistle.

Quickly, you soar up in the air, Beater’s bat in one hand, chasing after your teammates to defend them.

You barely hear Remus over the whistling of the wind and your own grunts.

You watch Marlene laugh after she bats a Bludger away from James, the bat giving off a wicked crack. You’re momentarily mesmerized by her figure. How her tongue peeks out in concentration and her ponytail bounces wildly in the wind.

A moment passes and your arm erupts in pain, and to add onto that, you’re hurtling towards the grass.

You clutch your arm and brace for impact, breath being forcibly ripped from your lungs. Tears well in your eyes from both the pain and the air lashing against your body. Your Quidditch robes flap wildly behind you.

The landing, however, isn’t that bad. You end up in the grass, your bad arm protected. You assume Dumbledore is the one to thank.

You let out strangled pants, sky spinning around you, a piercing whistle sharp against your ears. Your arm screams in agony.

“(Y/Ln)!” Sharpe calls out, broom clutched in one hand. “You alright?” Her face shines with sweat.

“Bloody hell, she’s got quite the swing.” You groan, face contorting in anguish.

In the corner of your rotating vision, you watch red and gold blurs crowding around someone else.

Madam Hooch and the rest of your teammates are talking, but you can’t understand a word they’re saying.

Tendrils of black fog enter your vision and suddenly you’re out cold.

You recognize the hospital wing bed immediately. It’s firm, but not unbearable, the white cotton sheets rubbing against any exposed skin.

“So (Y/Ln) and McKinnon, eh?”

It’s garbled and you’re unable to place the voice, but it’s understandable.

“What’s this ‘bout me and McKinnon?” You manage to slur out, eyes blinking open, the figures above you blurry.

The world gradually clears itself up, your teammates surrounding your bed. Your left arm is wrapped tightly to your chest with a white cotton sling. The pain is dull, but it’s the most noticeable feeling present.

“Ah, well...” Webb scratches the back of his neck, averting his eyes.

“They’re talking about how I finally felt my own strength.”

Slowly, you turn your head to see Marlene sitting up on her bed, carefully watching over you. Her friends surround her, knowing smirks gracing their faces.

Her blonde hair is a bit of a tangled mess from the wind, but her smile is blinding in the light.

“You mean...” Your eyes widen in shock.

Marlene nods her head. “Soulmates.”

You bite your lip in response.

“I mean, it was pretty obvious, wasn’t it?” Sirius asks, looking between his friends for approval. “They literally wake up covered in bruises after like every Quidditch match!”

“Shut up, Pads!” Remus hisses, smacking him on the leg. “They’re having a moment.”

Sirius rolls his eyes and holds his hands up in mock surrender.

Your eyes drift to your thigh where the mysterious bruise was.

“I’m guessing you got hit by a Bludger during practice?” You ask.

“And you’re the one that gave me that broken bloody nose during detention!” Marlene exclaims.

You nod shyly, remembering when Knight accidentally threw the Quaffle at your face during a late night practice.

“Are we really that bloody stupid?” You laugh.

“You want a real answer or...?” James starts, repositioning his glasses.

Marlene shoves James off her bed, and he yelps before ungracefully tumbling to the floor with a crash.

“Guess this is our cue to leave the two stupid lovebirds alone.” Lily giggles before patting her friend on the back and leaving, the Marauders and your own team trailing close behind her.

Because the bones in your arm are practically shattered, you’re confined to the hospital wing for at least another day, but with Marlene at your bedside, it’s been made bearable. You talk about all those mysterious injuries you’ve acquired over the many years and learn the extent of your idiocy.

With various bumps and bruises to match, at the end of the day, the two of you are much more than Quidditch rivals.

[fruitcoops]

This technically isn’t a tik tok trend, but I can totally see Sirius putting up a compilation of clips of loops playing hockey, both on the arena, and in his private rink!! Maybe as a surprise, or an anniversary of some sort, or maybe simply because he loves him so much. I know this is very vague... sorry!! I love your writing, and hope you have a lovely rest of your day/night!!

This ask is awesome and not super vague at all! It’s a different format than usual, but I hope you enjoy it all the same. Have a great day! Credit for Coops/ Sweater Weather goes to @lumosinlove!

Number One: Fastest Player on the Team

Two hockey players in gold and red tensed at a starting line, then took off in a flash when the whistle blew; within moments, the player on the left pulled ahead and zipped past the camera in a blur. He reached the finish line a full two seconds before his opponent and took his helmet off—Remus’ hair was damp with sweat, but his wicked smile as Finn collapsed dramatically on the ice showed no sign of exhaustion. “Hell yeah, baby!” someone shouted behind the phone.

 Number Two: Freckles

A slideshow of pictures started to play: Remus grinning at the camera, Remus stretched out on a beach towel, Remus fast asleep in an old Wisconsin sweatshirt with his face squished against a pillow. Most of the photos must have been taken in the summertime, because dark speckles cascaded across his cheeks, chest, and arms.

 Number Three: Bookworm

A still frame from their first Tiktok showed Remus holding an empty spoon and reading his book with a deep frown, then transitioned into a new video.

“Honey, did you walk the dog?” Sirius’ voice asked out of view. There was a murmured response. “Re?”

“In here.”

In the living room, Remus was sitting sideways in an armchair, hunched over a paperback like a gargoyle. “How long have you been there?”

“Shhh, I’m reading.”

“I love you.”

“Love you, too.”

 Number Four: Smart as Hell (Also a Nerd)

“—but it’s impossible,” Remus was saying to Pots, gesturing wildly. “That’s not how space works!”

“Are you an astronaut?” Pots countered.

“I don’t have to be an astronaut to know fire doesn’t ignite in a vacuum, James! If blasters existed—and they won’t until scientists figure out either cold fusion or miniature nuclear power, but that’s a different discussion—if blasters existed, and if one X-Wing shot an Empire ship in a weak spot, the Empire ship wouldn’t explode. Fires might start inside, but as soon as it was exposed to outer space all the oxygen would dissipate and it would just break apart, or maybe implode.”

“You two realize you’re debating the physics of a movie called Star Wars, right?” Lily asked drily.

“Yes,” the two men said in unison.

 Number Five: Best Dog Parent

Another photo compilation began, this time of Remus and Hattie. In the first one, he was cradling her like a baby while she slobbered on his chin; in the second, he was standing knee-deep in a small lake and calling to her. The final picture was one of Sirius’ favorites: Hattie was splayed on the living room floor in a ray of sunshine, passed out cold, while Remus curled protectively around her side as he slept.

 Number Six: Closet Romantic

“Hey, baby?” Remus asked as he walked into the kitchen, where Sirius was eating a sandwich and scrolling through Twitter.

“Mhmm?”

“Are you French?”

“Well, kind of—”

“Because Eiffel for you.”

A vivid blush crept up Sirius’ neck and he set his sandwich down, dropping his face into the crook of his elbow. “Oh my god. Oh my god.”

“I love you.”

“I love you, too,” Sirius laughed without looking up. “Nobody believes me when I say you’re sappy.”

“I know,” Remus said, sounding rather smug about it.

 Number Seven: Not a Morning Person

“Sweetheart, it’s time to wake up,” Sirius said gently behind the camera. His hand and forearm appeared as he shook Remus’ shoulder.

“Time is it?” Remus barely moved; outside, it was still dark.

“Uh, five thirty,” Sirius said around his smile.

“Fuck off.”

“Remus!”

“If this is for a prank, you’re sleeping on the couch,” he grumbled, turning over and pulling the covers back up around his shoulders.

“You don’t want to go on a hike with me?”

“Ask again at eight or take the dog with you. Your choice.”

 Number Eight: The Laugh

A series of short clips played, each of Remus laughing. Some had Sirius in them, and each time the quick down-up of laughter happened, a dopey smile spread across his face.

 Number Nine: You’re Competitive...

Remus sped down the ice at breakneck speed and slammed into an opposing player, stealing the puck away and turning hard to pass it to Sirius. His eyes flashed as the camera zoomed in and the commentators went wild.

The next video showed him at practice, clicking the puck through cones so fast it became a blur of black until it flew into the goal at the end of the drill. “Beat that, Talker,” he called as Thomas Walker skated into the starting position. Talker mumbled something under his breath and Remus smirked.

The final clip was from the gym, where he and Logan were locked in a competition. “Put more weight on,” Logan panted to Leo, rising from yet another squat with a wince. “I can’t lose to the fuckin’ PT.”

“You can and you will,” Remus shot back as he wiped his forehead with the back of his hand and began a new set of squats. “Try me, Tremzy.”

 Number Nine Point Five: …And a Willing Participant in Pointless Competitions

“Hey, how fast do you think we can ride these carts down the aisle?” Pots asked. Lily’s phone camera was clear enough to capture the look he, Sirius, and Remus shared.

Sirius grabbed another shopping cart. “There’s only one way to find out.”

“We’ll race to the strip of black tiles there at the end,” Remus said, sending Lily a quick grin. “Winner gets to ride in the basket for the rest of the trip.”

 Number Ten: You Chose Me

Only one picture faded in this time. Sirius was beaming at the camera while Remus kissed his cheek, both still sweaty from practice and glowing like they had been lit up from the inside. On Sirius’ left hand, a simple gold-and-silver ring wrapped around his finger.

 New words appeared on the screen in the same script as the numbering and titles. There are a million more things I could add to this list—your sarcasm, your singing, your mischief, your big heart—because I love everything about you, and I can’t wait until we’re married. Happy anniversary, mon loup!

[spicymayo1983]

Hiya. This is part 2. Poe has offered you temporary shelter from your abusive husband and things heat up between the two of you. This chapter is graphic smut heavy. Lol.

Warnings, XXX smut, female receiving oral sex, unprotected sex, female ejaculation, Not for anyone under 18.

Act 2, Into The Fire

It felt wrong yet so right at the same time. You sighed deeply and your heart felt like it was going to beat out of your chest as you felt Poe's strong yet gentle hands move languidly, painfully down your hips.

You gently guided his hand between your legs. You could feel Poe's cock getting hard as he touched you, softly stroking your outer lips.

His touch made you shudder in ecstasy. The warmth of his body against yours was making you wild with desire.

"Show me where to touch you". Poe whispered into your ear. "Show me what feels good".

Silently you guided his hand towards your wet slit, and to your sensitive clit.

Poe softly stroked it, speeding up and slowing down to match your breathing and movements expertly.

As he touched you Poe was kissing, nuzzling and nibbling on your neck.

"I want to taste you, if that's okay". He whispered.

You eagerly rolled over on to face him. There was a beautiful, tender smile on his handsome face as he looked deeply into your eyes and stroked your cheek.

He leaned over and began to plant a series of soft, fluttering kisses on your neck, gradually going lower, between your breasts.

Poe's lips felt soft and warm against your skin. Your body felt hot all over as you felt yourself nearing the edge of orgasmic bliss.

When his head went between your legs you spread them further apart for him. Poe began to lick, suck and nibble on the pink flesh within as you gently stroked the soft curls on his head.

Your head was already swimming when Poe penetrated your wet cunt with his tongue, expertly and softly tongue fucking you completely over the edge.

Afterwards he leaned over and kissed you on the lips, sliding his tongue inside of your mouth, allowing you to smell and taste your own unique scent on him.

"Poe, that was amazing". You told him breathlessly, as you gazed into his dark eyes.

"Your beautiful little pussy is delicious". Poe replied with a smile as he licked his lips, savoring your juices.

His thick cock was rock hard, you reached up and began to stroke the silken flesh. His head went back between your legs and he began to eat you out again, sending you over the edge for a second and third time.

"I need you to fuck me". You begged. "I have to feel you inside of me".

Poe got on top and as he held you safely in his arms his rock hard, thick cock entered the wet warmth of your body.

With every thrust you cried out in pure, unrestrained pleasure. His cock stretched your tight walls out nicely and hit every sweet spot thanks to his perfect curve.

As his thick shaft brushed against the rough patch of flesh that was your g-spot you cried out in ecstasy and released a sudden gush of warm fluid all over him.

Your eyes widened in surprise but Poe started laughing.

"What's so funny?" You asked as he continued to fuck you.

"Let's just say that you're not the first woman who has drenched my cock". Poe told you with a sexy little laugh.

You gave his face a playful, soft little slap as you let him finish inside of you. The feeling of his hot cum soaking your insides almost triggered a fourth orgasm. You were so caught up in the moment to remember that you were off of your birth control due to the fact that you and your husband had been trying for baby number 2 for quite some time.

But you assumed that Poe was on something. He had to be, right?

But it felt so damn right, and pleasurable. The element of danger was alluring to you.

It would have been a crime against nature, and pleasure, to make him pull out.

"This is the first time in years that I've been sexually satisfied".

You made the candid confession to Poe as the two of you were relaxing in bed, enjoying the afterglow of your encounter.

Your honest words made him laugh a little.

"So I guess your husband is not only an asshole but he can't take care of your needs?" Poe replied, laughing.

"Well, yes, you could say that". You answered back, shaking your head a little and laughing. "He isn't a giver, that's for sure".

"I'm all about giving". Poe explained with a smile. "Giving is the best part".

You were relaxing on your side, still nude and gently running your fingers through his lush, curly locks.

He was resting on his back, slowly drifting off to sleep with his eyes closed.

"I meant what I said". Poe told you, his gorgeous eyes opening and looking deeply into yours. "I love you, and I'll do anything in my power to protect you".

You fell asleep with your head resting on his chest, listening to the gentle thump of his beating heart.

"Poe, I love you too". You answered back, tears stinging your eyes.

"He doesn't deserve you". Poe whispered back.

The next morning both of you were awakened from your blissful slumber by the sound of fists pounding on the front door.

Your heart began to race in terror as you instantly knew who it was.

"Poe, wake up! He's here!" You shouted frantically.

End of part 2

[the-last-kenobi]

With anyone from the disaster trio or duo! (sorry I realized I didn’t say characters in the last ask!)

@badthingshappenbingo

Tripwire

(TW for panic attacks and minor and unintentional emotional abuse. This is emotional crisis in the middle of a war. Nobody in this story is at their best.)

••

Ahsoka sometimes thought that her Master never had rough days.

Oh, he had days when his temper was high - and those days were more frequent as the war went on and on and on - and days when he was more tired, more sad.

But he never seemed to have days where he just wanted to sit in a small, dark space like the far corner of his room or the dusty storage cabinet near the engines and hold himself together with his own two hands and just cry himself to exhaustion.

She tried to ask him, once, on a day when he seemed brighter and calmer.

“Master?” she began.

Then she stopped. Tilted her head to one side, listening with her montrals to the happy rhythm of his heart.

“Yeah?” he asked. “Snips?”

He was glowing with happiness, so excited just from his phone call home. She wasn’t stupid. Like the rest of the 501st - and 212th - and hells, maybe even the entire Order - she knew that her Master and Senator Amidala were... a thing.

Whatever that was, exactly.

Maybe, she contemplated, not noticing that she had begun to hunch in on herself a little, shoulders drawing in, maybe that’s what Anakin had that was different. Rex had Cody and the rest of his brothers, Anakin had Senator Amidala.

Ahsoka was just by herself.

“Hey,” Anakin said, sounding a little concerned. “Ahsoka? What’s up?”

The togruta shrugged, casually sliding back into her normal relaxed and confident self, the bravado she’d created years ago when she first began to suspect that nobody would choose her as a Padawan, and then built up again when she was assigned and dropped into the middle of open warfare.

And now again, struggling always with that urge to flee somewhere warm and small and safe.

“Nothing, Master. Sheesh. I was just wondering about the next class rotation. I really don’t want to retake Galactic History level 240 just yet...”

They moved on to other subjects.

••

She tried again, a few months later, shaken after a crushing campaign that stripped the 501st of some of their best and very, very many of their newest. The shiniest shinies.

Ahsoka searched the encampment they had pitched on the darkened moor, but she could sense Anakin from a mile off.

It was just harder for her, the closer she got to that epicenter of muted rage she could sense coming off him like heatwaves off sand.

But... they could help each other.

He didn’t have Padmé Amidala here today.

Today, right now, they had each other.

Ahsoka crept up to the dimming fire, set several meters away from the outer circle of tents, and saw the dark silhouette of Anakin Skywalker sitting on a low outcropping of rock, gazing into the flames. The red glow outlined him in faintest fire, sharpening the edges that darkness had softened into shadow.

“...Master?”

He didn’t seem to hear.

“Master... Anakin?” Ahsoka stepped a little nearer.

His head turned very slightly.

She froze, suddenly a little frightened, suddenly wishing she’d found her own warm safe place to be — because the ember-lit outline of Anakin’s face were neither safe nor warm.

He looked enraged.

“Anakin?” she whispered.

“Now isn’t the best time, Ahsoka,” he said slowly. Holding back. For her.

Giving her a chance to run.

From him.

She wouldn’t. She couldn’t. Not Anakin. “But, Anakin... I think...” she took a deep breath and closed the distance between them, crouching down to place one of her hands gently on his arm. He trembled. “I think we should be together right now. Help each other.”

He shook.

There was a long pause.

Then: “Go away, Ahsoka.”

Her heart fell like a stone.

What was she supposed to do? Fleeing to a dark corner felt so wrong, so un-Jedi like, so weak — and now, to abandon her Master when he was so hurt? It felt like a double sin. She couldn’t do it. It would be wrong (but it was so tempting—)

“Master...”

“Go, Padawan! Now!” He turned to face her fully, his teeth bared in a predatory sneer that made her own sharpened fangs and hunters blood quail. A wall of blunt rage slammed into her like a blast of hot wind and Ahsoka fell back, catching herself on her palms in the cold grass.

A flash of something like guilt crossed his face, not much older than her own, but then hardened again.

“Jedi do not feel these things, Ahsoka,” he lectured. “Much less act on them. Go eat your meal and then get some sleep. Wallowing won’t help.”

Do as I say and not as I do?

Ahsoka sprang to her feet and gave in to the wild pounding of her heart and the icy fear clawing at her lungs — and she fled.

••

Ahsoka felt like she was falling.

She could feel her feet thudding against the dewy ground, could feel her montrals trembling as they picked up noises all around her, but all she could see was darkness and it felt like she was running in midair, held up by nothing.

Shadows rushed past her and her breaths came rapid and out of control.

She was dying.

She had to be.

This felt awful, terrible, there was no control —

She was just going to lose her breath and lose her senses until she died here - wherever here was -

Was she crying?

Maybe.

She couldn’t tell. Couldn’t see, couldn’t breathe, couldn’t find her way in the dark.

Ahsoka crashed.

Blindly she crawled her way into what she could sense was some sort of corner.

It was warm here.

Dark.

Safe.

The feeling of walls and a floor and some sort of low ceiling pressing in all around her small form made her feel better, not worse. She could feel where she began and the shadows ended.

Slowly... slowly... slowly, Ahsoka Tano felt her soul begin to settle back in her flesh.

She could understand her surroundings better now.

She had shoved herself under cot in somebody’s tent. It really was warm here. Soft. It smelled familiar, the smell of the armor-polish-stale-soap-homemade-brew-standard-woolen-blankets and that something other that was just their men. Their boys.

Ahsoka could feel now how tightly she was curled up, how hard she was gripping her own limbs, still shaking.

Her throat felt raw.

Had she screamed? Cried? Or just gasped too much for air that hadn’t been coming?

She didn’t know.

She didn’t know a lot right now.

Does this make me a bad Jedi?

Or just a bad solider?

Which one am I, anyway?

“Padawan?”

I don’t know. I don’t know. I don’t know I don’t know I don’t know I don’t —

“Ahsoka?”

She took a shuddering gasp, then another.

She just wanted some answers.

For once, some answers.

No “do or do not,” no cultural languages she couldn’t understand, no envy of what Anakin had in his Senator, the forbidden things she didn’t understand and didn’t know she really even wanted.

She just wanted to know if she was wrong for this.

She had to be.

No real Jedi cried in a corner because someone reminded them they needed to be strong.

“Ahsoka.”

Finally she looked up.

“Master?”

It was Anakin she longed to see - the Master who hadn’t wanted her but had taken her anyways, the friend she’d always needed, the teacher she could never have dreamed of.

But it wasn’t Anakin.

It was Obi-Wan.

He looked down at her, and his eyes were so compassionate that she felt her own begin to well with tears again and her throat close up painfully.

Angrily, she swiped away a tear and hid her face in her arms.

There were soft sounds that told her that Obi-Wan was kneeling in front of her now.

He didn’t do anything.

Didn’t encroach, didn’t speak.

He just breathed.

And breathed.

And breathed.

Steadily in and out, and unconsciously Ahsoka began to mirror him, taking calm and even breaths.

Eventually it was just the two of them breathing together, the Master kneeling, the Padawan still hiding from the world.

“...Master Obi-Wan?” Ahsoka asked in a small voice. She lifted her head, and was struck again by how sad and tender her grandmaster’s blue eyes were. He looked so soft and comfortable, contrasted in her head with the memory of Anakin and his fiery outline and clenched jaw.

“Anakin...” she struggled to say. “I thought he... I hoped... why...” her voice broke again.

Unable to help it, Ahsoka pitched forward, sobbing again. She had already cried so much that her throat burned in protest, but cry she did, and this time she found herself wrapped in Obi-Wan’s arms.

She had never pictured this. He had always seemed so... aloof. What Jedi were meant to be. What she was not. What Anakin was not.

“I know,” he said slowly, his voice rumbling against her striped montrals. “Our teachers are not always what we want or need them to be. But we love them anyway, Ahsoka. Don’t we.”

She nodded as she cried, letting him hold her.

“I — thought — I — how am — does — d-does this — am I a — am...” it was utter nonsense coming out, but somehow he seemed to understand.

“You,” he said, “are a student. A very young student, despite how tall you may feel some days. War is hard on everyone, Ahsoka. You deserve better. It’s all right to have times like these.”

“You... you don’t,” she sobbed.

“Oh,” he said, sounding a little surprised. “Oh. Yes I do. Of course I do. I work my way through with meditation and tea. Anakin needs to be alone, and then he needs to vent. Normally he vents to me, or to — others. But it’s not your job to handle his outbursts. When you’re hurting, you go where you need to go.”

“Even if it’s a dark corner?” Ahsoka mumbled into his tunics.

She felt him chuckle slightly. “Even then. Especially then. We’re all dealing, Padawan. I’m sorry we didn’t talk to you about this, before this happened.”

“It’s okay,” Ahsoka muttered.

What she meant was: isn’t it my Master’s job to guide me? Isn’t it Anakin’s job? Am I too weak for him?

“We’ll do better,” Obi-Wan promised.

She had a feeling he meant: I’ll try to make Anakin do better. And when he doesn’t, I will.

And there was an overwhelming flood of emotions with that.

Thank the Force for Obi-Wan. But why not Anakin? Was this forever? Was this why her Master and Master Kenobi didn’t always get along? Because they were emotionally different? Would they shun her eventually too, if she turned out different from them both?

...But for the moment, Ahsoka took comfort.

Anakin would be back to normal in the morning.

And Obi-Wan’s arms were warm, and dark, and safe.

fin

[lucefrs]

          tl;dr: luce thinks about how she should have never ended up at georgetown in the first place, and the domino effect it had on her life. after flunking out of gallagher, she savours the summer. her and scott break up sometime after new years. a quick onslaught of success makes her feel wary, unsure how to not take up space she doesn’t deserve after doing it so many times before. she performs her own song in the lower east side.

                                                                      insp for the song she plays at the end. 

BEFORE.

luce is a bright child but lacks in the area of self discipline and application. she would benefit from paying closer attention during class discussion.

she knew from a very young age that she was not smart. at least not by the metric that institutions measure by. the unlucky curse that has kept her in the stream of academia is this: luce frear is smart enough. to graduate secondary school because it’s a key that unlocks america’s golden arches. to pursue higher education when she gets the encroaching feeling that she’s going to be found out that she doesn’t actually have any family friend's as guarantors. at the time, she doesn’t know how impossible georgetown is. but finding herself in the company of a man who will pay for her to do well, with a tutor that makes the s.a.t’s boil down to a formula of memorization and deduction is a genius move. those three hours are brutal, she struggles but she struggles through it, proud that only a handful of questions were left unanswered. it’s only after she's sat for it that she realizes how impossible georgetown is with it’s fourteen percent acceptance rate.

she uses his mailing address to apply, so it’s him that greets her with a sealed envelope that makes her stomach turn as soon as she opens the door. out of the corner of her eye she sees a bottle of champagne sitting in a bucket of ice. she knows what the letter will say: her sat score’s a valiant effort, enough to get her into any state school, but by no means exceptional. bracing herself for his disappointment she pushes the folded paper towards him so she can pretend his disappointment’s directed at the words on the page and not at her. but the skin at the corner of his eyes pinches and there’s no crease between his brows and she knows something is very wrong. or very right. she’s not sure, at the time it’s all very muddled, thinking about how much she likes that there's no place for his smile to hide, and how that's going to be one of her favourite parts of getting old. his smile that runs right to the tip of his nose, bumps against her cheek when he kisses her. he’s kissing her. he’s happy. because of her. she’s made him happy. that's good. she's happy too. then he’s by the kitchen counter, shaking off the champagne from his hand that’s flows over the lip of the bottle and she’s saying things like, ‘   my sat scores were no where near the average,    ’ and he counters that she shouldn’t disregard the importance of supplemental essays and she makes fun of how he talks because she always does. a girl’s got nothing but a gut to trust, and every glass of champagne’s a fuck you to it. luce never pukes from having too much to drink. she pukes in his shower. luce is not smart, but she’s smart enough not to question how she got into georgetown university.

‘   god, you’re so smart luce. we could call it the boyfriend guesses my lip gloss challenge.   ’ she only hears the first part, boasting a smile that makes the apples of her cheeks swell, all rosy like. at the time gallagher had felt like a enticing romp, bound by infatuation, the glint of the dew that hung at the end of the school’s weeping willows sparkling so bright that her heart-shaped sunglasses couldn’t subdue it. luce has never waited for anything, but her first few months at gallagher felt like a gift the universe had hand-picked, oblivious of her christmas list doodled with music notes and brand names of dresses that cost seven hundred dollars, it felt like finding treasure. smart’s an understatement, genius is more apt. she lets this sentiment lead, when the offer to stay comes soaring towards at her like paper plane that falls right into the palm of her hands. it makes logical sense to stay. scott’s here.

she’ll adapt. but gallagher starts to feel worlds away, and as much as she digs her heels into the gravel, gravity starts to slip from her grasp. but how could she can complain? in outer space, anywhere she looks there’s an endless landscape of stars, bright and twinkling, beckoning her towards the nearly planet. but it makes her want to cry when she sees the blue-green dot recede into the distance.

PRESENT-ISH.

luce has her final exam tomorrow and she’s going to crush it. she’s so excited she can’t sleep. there’s no way she could fail it, unless she slept through it but that won’t happen because she has five alarms set and a scott for safe measure. she’s so excited her heart’s sprinting from her sternum to her stomach and it would be classified as nausea if she didn’t know it was just plain excitement. she winces at the brightness from her phone as she checks the time. 3:36. if she falls asleep in the next four minutes she’ll have a solid four hours, but as soon as she closes her eyes her heart runs like it’s just heard the start of the piston, and the percentage she needs to get in order to pass the class rings aloud and reverberates against her brain. forty six percent. she doesn’t even need to pass the exam in order to pass the class — she’s going to be a gallagher girl. whether she likes it or not. in the dark, her hand finds the nob of his bedside drawer, carefully sliding it open, her fingers tinkering inside to feel for whatever weed scott has, gifted joints or a prized gram for winning a dumb luck game. he always has something, even after he passes some of it on to seb. she doesn’t go far, slips out of his grasp and onto the lantern lit cobbled pavements, follows it strictly like she’s on a board in a game of snakes and ladders, stopping every time she takes a drag. she eventually falls against a bench like an abandoned rag-doll, limbs splayed every which way and falls asleep until she's woken up by the rev of a motorcycle engine set as her alarm. luce goes through the pre-test motions with due diligence, takes a shower and eats a proper meal, as though there's someone waiting to accuse her of self-sabotage. she picks up her tote that's packed from the night before and gives the test her all. it's not her fault that her focus wavered in five minute blocks, or that nerves make her feel as though there's an ongoing tussle in her tummy. she treats the residual high as something she couldn't possibly have controlled, it should've left her system by now. and she’s a hero for persevering through it. she tried her best. and in spite of it all, she still fails. thank god.

SUMMER.

she doesn’t want the summer to end. it does anyways.  

INTERLUDE

she's not the type to tuck herself into the booth, but harper’s gone to the bathroom and luce has a gnarly blister on the back of her heel, and her head’s been swimming in cheap liquor all night with no reprieve. she can’t get her head above water for more than a minute before falling back under. her gaze catches a couple in the corner, slow dancing to david guetta and her lips curl into a wry smile, his lips cushioned against his neck, murmuring something she’ll never know, and then they’re laughing — maybe about the fact that they’re slow dancing to memories, or because they’re in love, everything’s funnier when you’re in love. a tiny giggle, lost to the boom of the speakers escapes her, because she’s so in love too.

i miss you.   missing ur 🍆 spare nudes? 🙏🏼 ft? x

she holds down the backspace key and puts her phone away.

                                                         ***

‘   i don't know how to miss you in the right way,   ’ she says after a bout of silence, it makes her stomach lurch, like stepping off a ledge and finding the ground lower than expected. there’s no chance to blink back the tears, and she’s so in shock from what she’s just said that she makes no motion to cover her face from him, staring down the barrel of the webcam, like she’s on the brink of death. she’d give up the forty years of her life to get to the part where she can look back on this fondly, of a great love that once was. her child-like whimpers have her grappling for breath. ‘   it hurts.   ’ she manages to sputter out, and she knows it’s hurting him too. eventually, luce will blink away the last of her tears, because she needs this picture to really believe it.

SOMETIME, SOME DAY.

she's not so much herself as she is everyone else. there are pieces of her in the crescendo of what billboard deems the song of the summer. she’s etched in the familiarity of the bass in the last song played before last call — the resonant thrum of waking up blacked out on the front lawn of an ex best friend. the producer that the lead singer can't function without. the origin story of a grammy nominated album which started on the fire escape, exiled by roaches, a guitar slung like a rifle entering the wild wild west of cicadas and greeted by an empty ashtray save for a half abandoned spliff. a story deified for late night talk shows with parrot hosts and their fake squawks. it’s all made up names in CD booklets that no one looks at anyways. it doesn’t make her an enigma, she has a wikipedia page. record labels take her out for lunch, and she goes because she likes people, even the kind who gawk at her pretty face, drooling at the dollar signs in her doe brown eyes and blonde hair. of course, they love her, a girl who orders salad but doesn’t skip dessert — a reluctance toward fame but endlessly optimistic about the future of the music industry, splits the bill and turns a handshake into a hug when they express their keen interest in working with her. there’s a twinkling note of laughter when she pulls away and says, ‘    you’ve never even heard me sing. i’m not good enough.   ’ and she realizes with a twitch of bitterness that she doesn’t have to be, and things working out feels more like a curse when it isn’t deserved.

she talks but can't write unless it's in time signatures and treble clefs and if she does manage to write in a language comprised of letters ( which has only ever happened once ) she can't sing - unless it’s for boys she likes. so she poaches a voice, scrolling through the repertoire of people who have held her heart in their hands. her song is the last song of his set and it sounds like this. they smile through every note, she laughs at his falsetto in the last chorus. she plays her heart out with a vigour that leaves her palms moist, expecting that when the song ends there’ll be a silence broached by the slow clap of j.k simmons. luce lives in a movie and can feel the montage scene catch up to her. she can feel the lingering memory that never existed : a swollen belly and walls painted pink, a toddler that makes their white picket fenced garden a stomping ground, a cinematic pan across a fairy-lit paris, and night walks. when she looks over, she’ll see him, but she’s going to change the ending. her pinky hovers above the last key she played, letting the sound ring out into silence, before they’re met with fervent applause and whistles. this is the moment. luce looks into the crowd. she looks into the crowd and none of the faces are him because why would they be ? she hadn’t told anyone. the only person who knew was herself. it was hers. this moment is hers and she cradles it close, because she’s never had something of her own before. not really. but she likes the way it feels. the man who once held her heart in his hand kisses the top of her head and praises her with a plunging bow. she looks into the sea of strangers who watch her and she watches them back. this is the moment. hers alone. and she’s never felt less lonely.

[smediumsmeatbae]

Straight Tequila Night

 PAIRINGS: Chris Evans X Reader SUMMARY: You wake up to Chris after a night of tequila WORDS: >1500 WARNINGS: Smut! No one under 18 please. Alcohol consumption, a lot of horniness, a second of angst (like if you squint?) and fluff thrown in there because it’s me.   A/N: First things- title is not my own. It is from a song by John Anderson.  This is another entry for the #shamelesshoesforchris challenge by @navybrat817 and @stargazingfangirl18. I am using the prompts Waking up next to each other for the first time with the dialogue “Oh god, did I say that out loud?” Please don’t post this anywhere else without my permission  Tags after the reblog.  Likes are amazing. Comments and reblogs are better. 

--------****--------

"CHRISTOPHER PUT ME DOWN!" You screeched when Chris threw you over his shoulder and walked towards the bedroom.

Barking a laugh, he strolled with confidence, not seeming to be slowing down or wanting to put you down. Your legs kicked in protest but Chris was stronger. His broad hands easily steadied your body with one firmly on your legs while the other grabbed onto your ass. 

Earlier that night, you two had decided to go out for drinks with a few friends. You had yet to meet most of them and were dying to see that other side of Chris as well. What started out to be just friends casually sipping drinks, turned into a night of tequila shots and making out with Chris in the back of an Uber. By the time that you were back at Chris's, he practically had you sprawled out on the back seat, him on top, with his hands climbing up your shirt. Tasting the tequila on his tongue, he was driving you wild as you felt his hard-on pressed against your leg. The excitement between your own legs felt hot and needy. 

You hadn't planned on sleeping over at his place, honestly. The plan was to have a couple of drinks, then an Uber would take you to your house and Chris to his. You two had only been on a handful of dates, nothing was even official. You hadn’t even slept together yet. But damn. When he kept squeezing your thigh under the table, lightly kissing the soft spot behind your ear. Breath hot on your neck whispering things only you two could hear. "You're so sexy." "I wanna kiss you so much." "Come over to my house." How could you resist? Two Ubers became one. And then... Then! At his house. The way that man looked at you hungrily, eyes lust blown and lips kiss swollen, pressing you up against a wall… You really wanted him. 

The next morning, you woke up with a hangover and slightly confused as to where you were. The sheets didn’t feel like yours, these were nicer. It also didn't smell like your place. It smelled like warm cedar and lemon. You noticed there was a dip in the bed that wouldn't move as you put your foot up next to it. You opened your eyes, hissing at the pain and saw Dodger at your feet, curled up in a ball and sleeping away. 'Well, at least that explains me not being able to move my foot', you thought as you looked over to your left to try to get some bearings. You noticed a sleeping lump next to you, short brown hair peeking out from under the covers. Oh right, now you remember. Your brain, once foggy, contained vivid pictures of last night. Licks on exposed skin, shallow breaths and moans, a delicious stretch that you hoped to feel again soon. Out of the corner of your eye, was a shallow bite mark on your shoulder. You bit your lower lip as a smile slipped across your face, butterflies making a path across your belly. 

You felt warm fingers trail across your upper thigh, reaching, searching. Looking back over, you spied Chris peeping out cutely from under the covers with a boyish grin. God, even first thing in the morning, that man made your body burn. 

"G'morning handsome." Voice raspy from sleepiness as you lay yourself back down in bed and slide towards him. Chris turned towards you, pulling your body into his, free hand resting lazily on your ass. His lips ghosted over yours, then pulled back, a content look on his face.  "Hey." His voice answers back, covered in sleep; his nose brushed against your own. "This is new. Glad you stayed over last night, nice to wake up to you." "Yeah?" Your lips captured his in a slow, sensual kiss.  "Yep." He popped the p as his hand trailed up and down your back, making you shiver in contentment. "I definitely wanna make it a regular occurance." "You mean…" you pulled away from him a bit so you could look him in the eye. "Like, be your girlfriend?" "Oh god, did I say that out loud?"

There was silence between the two of you, one waiting on the other to make the next move. As if Dodger could sense the tension, he got up and headed towards the living room. After a minute, Chris licked his lips and looked at you, a slight nervousness in his eyes. A knot was forming at the pit of your stomach. You hadn't said anything before then, but you were falling for Chris, hard. You had been meaning to have “the talk” with him soon about your relationship but figured it may be too early for him. Would he revoke his offer and rip it away from you, like so many waves lost from the ocean? After all, he didn't mean to make that offer. Your breath caught in your throat. 

"Would… Would that be something you're into?" Blue eyes peered under long eyelashes, a bashful gaze pressed at you. "I know we just started hangin' out and you don't have to say yes if-" "Yes." You nodded, knot releasing within you. "Yes, Chris."

A smile appeared on his lips, small at first but then growing bigger. His eyes sparked, that cerulean blue shining down towards you. Lips captured in kisses, thankful and urgent, shared between you two as your legs entwined into his. 

Moving his body to pull you under him, his free arm slid up your side and cupped one of your breasts, lightly circling your nipple with the pad of his thumb. You mewled in his mouth from the touch and arched your back slightly. 

"So responsive for me." Chris whispered in your mouth, working down to nibble at your jawline and sucking delicately on your neck. 

You felt shivers everywhere from his touch as he worked your neck and your breasts in tandem with his mouth. You needed more. You ground your bottom half onto him, feeling him already halfway aroused. He gasped, tearing his mouth away from your neck, just enjoying the friction of what you were doing. 

A wicked grin was on his face as he halted your hips movements. 

"Gonna make you feel so good." He murmured. 

He trailed kisses down your breasts and your belly, gave gentle nips to your thighs as he spread them open to him, relishing in the sight of your wetness before him.

"This all for me?" He asked. 

You could do nothing but nod your head as you bit down on your bottom lip to maintain some semblance of control. He grinned in response as he nestled his body in between your thighs. Placing your legs over his broad shoulders, he placed his hands on the tops of your hips, pinning you down. He leaned his head down, and kissed your outer lips slowly, making your skin burn, trying to push yourself towards him for more. You looked at him, needing him, a playful grin was on his face. However, before you could tell him to quit teasing, Chris licked a long stripe up your pussy making you arch off the bed and emit a low moan. He then was eating you like a man starved, licking and sucking, giving you everything. You were doing your best to hold on, grabbing the sheets from under you, legs shaking, mouth open in pleasure. 

“Oh god, Chris, please don’t stop!” You moaned, reaching your hands down to massage his head, encouraging him to keep going. 

He wasn’t gonna stop though, not until you were a writhing, moaning mess under him. He put one finger into you, pumping, then he added another, speeding up his efforts. Chris found the spongy area that gave you pleasure and he used a “come hither” motion with his fingers to rub that sensitive spot. He alternated between sucking on your clit and using his tongue to swirl around it as well. The pace was maddening and you were quickly coming up to climax, feeling the rubber band in your belly getting pulled tighter and tighter. He took his mouth off of yours and looked into your eyes. 

“So wet baby. You gonna come for me?”  His voice was husky and you could see the juices of your arousal on his mouth and beard.  “’M so close, please.” You moaned out. “Please.”

You could see the precipice to your climax, all you needed was his mouth on you. As if sensing your need, Chris dipped his head back down and began sucking on your clit making you jump off the edge. The rubber band finally snapped and you yelled out, seeing flashes of white in your vision as you had an incredible orgasm. He led you through, pumping his fingers in and out slowly, until you had ridden your climax to the end. 

“Oh my god... “ You said horsley, out of breath afterwards. 

Chris came up beside you, kissing you deeply, your tongues intertwining. You could taste your own arousal on his mouth as he grabbed onto your hips with his hands, grinding his erection into you. 

“I’m not finished with you yet, love.”

[thirstystarkey]

HATE CAN SOUND LIKE LOVE • JJ MAYBANK

Summary: JJ and Y/N have always fought, since everyone can remember. They both have short tempers and a endless love for surf and chaos. But what happens when they have to pretend to be a couple? Well.. people always said that hate can sound like love sometimes.

Warnings: Mention of underage drinking, drugs, minor violence, some smutty scenarios and a ton of sexual induendos, JJ being a hot idiot and Y/N a wild girl brat

CHAPTER 11

The sunrise started to rise and with that Y/N’s alarm went off, piercing her ears, it meant it was time to surf, but in that moment she didn’t felt like getting up. Starting to become more and more lucid the memories from last night hitted her like a angry wave in a middle of a storm, hard. And she couldn’t ran away because JJ would never allow it and also he was peaceful sleeping beside her. They both fell asleep on top of the duvet talking about conspiracy theories.

“JJ, wake up.” Y/N shook his body slightly.

“Give me five minutes.” He pushed her away turning on his back.

“Ugh.” She grunted while she got up. “I’m going to surf.” Y/N said through the bathroom while she got ready.

Once she was done, she stepped out in a pair of jean shorts and a black bikini top, her hair in a high ponytail and her surf bag on her hand.

“Good morning sunshine.” JJ stretched himself. “Rise and shine.” He mocked her. “Why do you go surf practically in the middle of the night, all alone?”

“I forgot how much of a drama queen you are.” She sassed. “Reason number one I’m a lone wolf and reason number two because I can surf when I want and the waves are perfect at sunrise.” She explained. “Plus it’s 6am, it’s not the middle of the night.”

“It is somewhere around the globe baby!” JJ pointed finger guns at her, both laughing.

“I can arrange something for breakfast if you want.” Y/N offered politely, she knew JJ had the apetite of a starved children.

“You’re the best fake girlfriend I’ve ever had.” He kissed her cheek on his way to her bathroom.

For a moment blood rushed to her cheeks, flushing her skin red. She held her cheek surprised.

“The only one you ever had as well.” Y/N remembered him. “Put the seat down and wash your hands.” She said.

“Yes mom!” JJ spoke in a high pitch voice.

Y/N rolled her eyes making her way downstairs, she wasn’t like her mom who was an angel in the kitchen, Y/N was more like a storm in the kitchen. A hurricane. She burned everything she tried to cook, so her attempt at feeding JJ resumed at a bowl of cereal.

Once she placed both bowls on top of the insland JJ entered the kitchen, he smiled at her before sitting down and laughing looking down at the bowls.

“Worthy of a Michelin Star my dear.” JJ poke at her.

“I made you breakfast. I know it’s just a bowl of cereal but it’s the only thing I can’t burn.” She said with a sheepish grin.

“It’s more than enough!” He reassured. “I’ll catch you at the beach, I’m just going to pick my board at John B’s.”

“May the best surfer catch the biggest waves.” Y/N winked at him after placing her bowl in the sink, kissing his cheek like he did before.

“Oh baby it’s on!” JJ spoke with a mouth full. “You don’t know what you got yourself into!” He pointed while she got ready to leave, waiting for him to finish.

When JJ finished his bowl of cereal he placed it besides her and washed both, Y/N watching being completely taken aback from his actions, she couldn’t help but to smile.

“What?” He questioned. “I can feel you are looking.”

“I’m just watching your skills in the kitchen.” Y/N joked.

“Oh I have plenty.” JJ smikerd slyly looking through his shoulder at her.

“I preferred it when you were quiet.” Y/N rolled her eyes at his comment.

Once done with his voluntary chore they made their own separate ways, Y/N headed to the beach waiting for JJ to arrive with his surfboard and JJ went to John B’s chateau to grab his belongings.

“Nice to see you man.” John B teased JJ.

“Can’t surf with you later, I’m doing it now.” The blond boy said after he grabbed his board and changed his shorts.

“JJ I think you hit your head a bit too hard.” John B began. “Why is my best friend surfing without me plus, at this hour for?”

“Y/N.” JJ simply said, like it was a normal thing. It wasn’t. JJ had never surfed this earlier nor he had ever surfed alone with Y/N.

“For real?” John B sounded surprise.

“Yes.” JJ answered. “Look I gotta go, see you later today.”

At the beach he saw Y/N, quietly sitting on top of her surfboard contemplating the view, waiting patiently for JJ. He knew how much eager she was to get in the water and catch as many waves as she could possibly ride but she still waited. JJ made his way to her and knelt beside her.

“You waited.” He laughed messing her hair.

“I gave my word to gentleman, of course I waited.” Y/N said, head held up high with a fake french accent.

“And will this fine lady give me the pleasure to surf with me?” He mimicked her.

“Oh.. absolutely mon chere.” Y/N whispered playing with hugs shark tooth necklace before pushing his chest back while she got up. JJ fell backwards.

Y/N ran to the water with her board and JJ did the same, catching her at the crash of the waves.

“May the best surfer catch the biggest waves.” JJ used her words after kissing her cheek and entering the water.

And like that they both paddled their way into the nearest forming wave. Y/N and JJ surfed until the sun turned beaming hot on top of team, the soft heat from the sunrise long gone at this point. Y/N sat on top of her surfboard, legs smoothly moving underwater as she watched JJ catch another wave, moving gracefully within the tube of water like he was a part of the wave. JJ is a good surfer, in fact everyone in Outer Banks knows he’s the best surfer, also the lastest in a long line of fishing, drinking, smuggling, vendetta holding salt lifters who made their way of the water. Mild cleptomaniac and probably a future tax cheater, but deep down Y/N knew he wouldn’t go down that road, JJ would turn into a successful surfer with a surfing school.

“Watching the show?” JJ asked out of breath getting closer to her.

“Sad that it’s already finished.” She pouted.

They laughed and kept surfing. Even shared a wave, both knowing it was the most dangerous thing a surfer could do. Eventually they got tired and stopped surfing, at this point just messing around in the water making each other laugh.

“Y/N look shark!” JJ screamed scaring Y/N who floated peacefully next to him.

“Fuck off JJ!” She splashed him in the face. “It’s not funny!”

“You should’ve seen your face!” JJ laughed at her while she crossed her arms plotting the perfect revenge.

Tag list 💞

@thatsonobx @starkeybaby @this-is-bigger-than--us @ahhireallydontknow @tomzfrog @alotbnouf @outerbankstings @jj-maybank-stan @jellyfishbeansontoast @rafecamerondeservesbetter @tomfreakinghollandneedsaoscar @tembo-ndoto @poguebx @k-k0129 @kieinred @obxmxybxnk @stilinskiandsuch @lcil123 @fandom-phaser @sexualparkour @myrandom-fandomlife @lasnaro @kristineee-obx @sw-eat-ing @strangebirds2 @kiarascarreras @jjswhore @milamaybank @marveloucnco @downbytheouterbanks @write-from-the-heart @justcallmesams @annedub @drizzlethatfalls @tovvaf @drewswannabegirl @whoreforouterbanks @newhopenessie @maybebanks @poguesrforlife @shawnssongs @wastedheartcth @tangledinsparkles @rudyypankow @danicarosaline @sc4rlettm @hufflepeople @merc12-us @punkrainbows @obliviatevamps

[bounce-a-coin-off-your-witcher]

Fear Not, Fair Maiden

(Thank you @spielzeugkaiser for letting me write a story about your amazing art! This was so much fun and it’s so fluffy. I may have thrown in a little nonhuman-Jaskier as a treat but Jaskier doesn’t know so...)

Etheid is the baby green dragon that Borch rescues in “The Sword of Destiny” book. I thought I’d make that scene more interesting and less sad for everyone by sticking to the book canon version for this story.

---

Jaskier woke up somewhere warm and soft and definitely not wrapped in the raggedy blanket he’d fallen asleep with atop his worn bedroll. He groaned in confusion and rose into a sitting position on the soft feather mattress to better wipe the sleep from his bleary eyes. He was sitting on a beautifully carved mahogany bed with four posts and lovely hanging curtains made of pale pink gossamer.

“Where am I?” he yawned to no one in particular. 

In my tower, a voice echoed through his head. The bard leapt from the bed, suddenly alert and terrified of whatever had brought him here. The voice returned, slightly frightened in its own right and clearly looking to soothe. Don’t panic! I’m sorry! I probably should have introduced myself better. Come to the window, my sweet visitor, and let me say hello!

“You’re not going to eat me, right?” Jaskier squeaked. 

Of course not, Jaskier. You’re my guest. That would be highly indecorous of me.

“Monsters with manners. Finally some decent company.” Jaskier made his way confidently out onto the balcony surrounding the tower’s main room and glanced around. “Hello? How do you know my name?”

A large, scaly green head rose over the side of the balcony wall and Jaskier took an involuntary step back. A thin-slit reptilian eye blinked at him. Once. Twice. Then the rest of the dragon’s face and snout appeared. Do not fret, my dear. You are in no danger at all. I merely wish to see a performance.

“You want me to sing for you?”

That was not my purpose in stealing you, but I would not be adverse to some music later this evening. I’m sure your Witcher is already on his way here to rescue you. Jaskier swore he heard the dragon release a deep, dreamy sigh from its steaming nostrils. Ah, I wonder if he’ll climb the spiral stairs and try to avoid the traps or if he’ll fight me first and scale the outer walls. 

“Wait a second,” Jaskier held a finger up. The dragon paused its daydreaming and looked down at its tiny human captive. Well, mostly human from what the dragon’s senses could pick up. Perhaps a bit of dryad in there somewhere. The semi-mortal’s connection to nature was stronger than most; ancient in a way that drew the dragon to him in the first place. Well, that and the handsome, white-haired Witcher who kept the bard close to his side like a favorite puppy. “You kidnapped me so that you could watch Geralt rescue me?”

The dragon’s enormous snout bobbed up and down as it nodded. The bard leaned heavily against the balcony’s edge and released a series of hysterical giggles. Are you alright, Jaskier?

“How do you know my name?”

You met my godfather, once. Borch.

“Oh, you’re the baby green dragon!” Jaskier perked up. This was an old friend, then. “My, how you’ve grown.”

And my, how you haven’t, the dragon observed. If the bard didn't’ know any better it appeared as if the creature was raising its eyebrow at him. You don’t seem to have aged a day.

“Haven’t I?” Jaskier glanced down. “Perhaps I’m just remarkably well preserved.”

Magic, the dragon shrugged. Anyway that is not my purpose here. I’ve grown bored with my usual antics and wish for something better. 

“So you thought you’d make up some entertainment by bard-napping me?”

Correct.

“This is like a play, then? I’ve been given the part of Fair Maiden and Geralt has been cast as our White Knight? My Prince Charming, as it were?”

Yes, although you find Geralt’s animalistic tendencies and Witchery nature more alluring than any fairy-tale prince or wayward knight.

“Hey! Hands off my private, personal thoughts,” Jaskier cried, waving his arms at the dragon as if the gesture might sever their mental link. The dragon huffed out what may have been a laugh.

I cannot help myself, I apologize. My name is Etheid, by the way. So you can stop referring to me in your mind as Baby Dragon I Held Once.

“Sorry,” Jaskier shrugged. He laughed again, this time genuinely. “Do you think Geralt really loves me enough to come rescue me from an entire dragon? He knows you can’t be beaten with one or two flimsy swords.”

He is determined to find you, Etheid replied. He will be here in two days time. 

“So until he shows up do I just...sing for you, then? Is there any food? Oh, is there a bath!?”

You’re the most eager and friendly guest I’ve ever had, Etheid rejoiced. There’s food aplenty in the cupboard in your room. Wine, too. I also have bathwater ready at your request and I can heat it to whatever temperature you like. I even have costumes!

“Costumes!?” The bard beamed widely and clapped his hands together beneath his chin. He bounced up and down on the balls of his feet and even spun in a quick circle. “What kinds of costumes!? Is this going to be a tragic rescue? Is this going to be dramatic and romantic? You mentioned traps, what kinds of traps will Geralt be facing if he comes up the stairs?”

Eager to see your handsome Witcher again?

“Eager to make sure that he isn’t injured trying to save me from your lovely tower, here.”

He will be absolutely fine. These traps were made for squires to outsmart; he’s a Witcher.

“If he loved me as I love him,” Jaskier sighed wistfully, “Then this would be even more fun.”

Etheid considered telling Jaskier the truth about his Witcher’s romantic feelings for a moment but figured that it was Geralt’s job to do so, instead. The dragon could wait. The dragon could write such a fantastical scene that Geralt would have no other option but to admit his feelings to the jovial and kindhearted bard. 

There are dresses, of course, but there are some lovely robes as well. You can take whatever you like from the chest at the end of the bed.

“You’re going to regret saying that!”

Go ahead. Do what human things you must. I’ll heat the water and be on my way; dragons need to eat, too.

“No pesky villagers, please. Stick to wild animals so long as I’m your guest?”

I am not a heathen, Etheid scoffed. Deer only for now. The forest is fat with them.

“Excellent. See you after dinner and a bath, then. I’ll sing you some lovely ballads.”

About your White Wolf?

“I wouldn’t exactly say that he’s my White Wolf,” the bard blushed. “But yes, songs about Geralt.”

---

Geralt reached the base of the stone tower and squinted up. It seemed endlessly tall against the rocky mountainside and the blue of the sky. Jaskier was up there, though, and the dragon was probably nearby. The Witcher had chosen not to wear his armor for this particular rescue mission; it would only make him noisier and this was a battle of the wits. Dragons wanted to be outsmarted, not slain.

Geralt remembered Borch Three Jackdaws fondly, the golden dragon that had shown him such kindness and taught him that not all monsters were to be feared. Well, Borch hadn’t so much taught Geralt about the nature of monstrosity so much as he had reinforced a previously held belief. 

But that didn’t matter now. As he slid into the passage that led to the tower stairs his only focus was his stupid bard’s physical safety. 

No, Geralt, the Witcher corrected himself firmly. He is not your bard, he is merely a traveler who chooses to spend some of his free time dallying about with you. He likes writing songs about your adventures and that is all. 

He could hear the sound of a lute growing slightly stronger as he ascended, and kept his eyes peeled for any sort of traps or pitfalls. He sidestepped two swinging axes with ease and ducked beneath a flying crossbow bolt as simply as he breathed. This tower was for amateurs, not highly trained Witchers with unparalleled senses. Not the most graceful Witcher the Wolf school had ever turned out onto the path. Not Geralt of Rivia, Jaskier’s Witcher. 

---

Jaskier stopped singing suddenly and set his lute to the side, as planned. He laid himself out as Etheid had suggested, the white cotton robe pooling around his bare legs and spilling rather nicely off his left shoulder. He’d cinched a soft blue ribbon just so around the curves of his waist. His hair was ruffled just the way Geralt liked it; the way it was when he saw the Witcher’s gloved fingers twitch at his sides, clearly aching to touch him but too afraid to make a move.

He’ll have to make a move this time, Etheid said. Jaskier could hear the smile in the dragon’s words. Get in position! He’s nearly to your room, Jask!

“Jaskier!” the Witcher cried, bursting through the door only a moment later. The bard could sense Etheid just outside the window, hidden by a thin curtain that hung from the back of an ENORMOUS four-poster bed. Geralt was too excited to find his precious bard safe to care about the looming threat.

“Geralt! You came for me!”

“Of course I did,” Geralt rolled his eyes. “You’re always getting yourself into trouble.”

Ugh, you’re so right. He’s horrible with romance.

Jaskier stifled a smile but Geralt caught it anyway. 

“What’s so funny, bard?”

“My captor doesn’t find your rescue speech very romantic or amusing,” he said, pulling the curtain aside. Etheid’s large blue eyes were focused on the scene, waiting for something good to happen. The dragon had been bored for so long and he’d heard so much from Borch about this White Wolf and his loyal, loving bard. Jaskier whispered the next line as if Etheid wasn't’ supposed to be hearing it, “Perhaps you should make our little reunion more flowery?”

“Jaskier, I - uh,” Geralt swallowed hard and took a step forward. Might as well go for it, the Witcher thought. “I’m so glad that I made it back to your side in time. I’m so glad that you’re unharmed.”

“I knew you’d come for me,” Jaskier sighed, holding out his hand. Geralt stepped even closer, leaning down to press his lips against the petal-soft skin of Jaskier’s knuckles. The bard blushed softly and Geralt felt his own face heating up to match. “You always save me, even from the worst situations.”

“I always will.”

The Witcher had admitted his greatest secret aloud before he could stop himself and he watched the bard’s eyes widen even further. Geralt’s brand of gruff sincerity was unmistakable. 

“Geralt,” the younger man grinned, tears gathering in the corners of his perfect, cornflower blue eyes, “I knew you loved me back.”

“You mean...?”

“Of course, silly,” the bard laughed, throwing himself up off the mattress and into Geralt’s arms. “I’ve loved you since the moment I saw you brooding at that tavern in Posada!”

“Oh Jaskier,” the Witcher gasped. His lips found the side of his bard’s pale neck and out on the balcony Etheid released a happy, contented huff. “I would give anything and everything to know that you were safe.”

“My sweet Witcher,” Jaskier leaned back, cupping Geralt’s face between his hands. His weight was now being entirely supported by the thick arm wrapped around his waist and he reveled in the strength of his beloved before leaning up to kiss him. “Then you must know how I feel every time you leave me on a hunt. Or go to fight with Yennefer about something silly.”

The Witcher could only press their foreheads together and breathe in the happy, rain-shower scent of his Jaskier. “Hmm.”

Excellent, yes! I can’t wait to tell Borch and my friends about this! Etheid cheered. Congratulations, Jaskier! I’m so happy for you!

“Thank you,” the bard murmured. 

“Hmm?” Geralt hummed again, raising an eyebrow. Jaskier pulled his head away and shook it. 

“Don’t worry about it. Are you getting me out of here or not?”

“Can you walk in this getup? Will the dragon just let us go?”

Jaskier shot a curious glance towards Etheid, who nodded.

Tell him you can’t walk, though. I want to see him carry you off to his horse and ride away with the white robe flapping in the wind. Maybe he’ll even wrap his arms around you from behind to keep you safe. Like a real princess. 

“No, I can’t walk in this silly thing at all. Keeps getting tangled around my ankles; I’d probably fall down the stairs and kill myself.

Geralt swept the younger man up into his arms and grabbed his lute from its place on the floor. “Well, we can’t have that.”

“No, my Witcher,” the bard replied with a contented smile. “We can’t have that at all.”

---

And if one of Etheid’s curious friends kidnapped Jaskier a month or so later and three countries over then...oh well. More weird dragon friends for the both of them.

[weaponizedhorse]

This is gonna get long. So I was right I broke my foot... In three places. I KNEW it was broken and everyone kept saying "it's probably a sprain" and "sprains often hurt more than a break"(those people are liars) but I knew. SO here are my xrays!!

So in the first pic in red are the three broken bones, two of them are displaced and I think it's cause right after I tried walking on it with my cane cause like I had to get to the bathroom and make food. In blue is these thing that like a lot of people have it's nothing important but I am pointing it out cause my mom asked when she saw the x-ray and my brother asked when he saw so I am making a preemptive strike. It is easy (to me) to see how they got displaced cause they are slanted and the other one is straight across

Second pic I circled my non displaced one. I also think when I fell the first time is when I broke the two slanted ones and. When I fell the second time I broke the third one. But I fall like this all the time I don't get when I broke bones this time. But I mean I was exhausted and I took sleeping meds when I probably shouldn't have to finally get me to sleep.

So now I am my regular disabled and I guess super disabled

I am thankfully not gonna have medical bills for this (thank you dads insurance) but I am gonna need easy to eat food and transportation to my dr appts. And if you wanna buy me a video game I have a wish list (thank god my fucking saint of a boyfriend bought me the shower chair) or wanna recommend video games to me. I like Animal Crossing, The Outer Worlds, Breath of the Wild, Hollow Knight, GRIS. Among Us, Evergate, Ori and the Blind Forest.

I like indie games cause they are cheap and usually better.

I will probably make a another post with more details and talking about my mental heath that day cause oh boy it was bad

But if you wanna donate you can do so here

Cashapp: $sierrarose111

Paypal: Thomas.reckdenwald@gmail.com

Venmo: sierrarose111

TLDR: I broke my foot in three places need money for easy food to eat and transportation to dr appts and video game recs