#like I’d just scrap it if it weren’t the first piece of the black hole generator they find

[dongpound]

Would yall believe me if I said the Zaa’Vadal shit might be the most unpleasant chapter I’ve ever written just bc it’s taken me SO long and I’m just like 🧍 I’m tired of this

[shoutogepi]

Heart of the Storm

Todoroki Shouto

word count : 11.0k bruh why do i do this

[ ☀︎, ✘ (nsfw!) ]  a lil fluff in beginning/end

themes : igloo sex?? LMAO, shy!reader, steam/sweat kink?, dom!shouto, teasing, temperature play

bio : Shouto warms you up in the midst of the blizzard, in more ways than one.

author’s note : this stemmed from a crack fic idea but damnnnn if it isn’t hot in here now :O this is also a piece for @bnhabookclub ‘s first event— the provisional licensing exam! i’m using prompt #9: “Your lips are really warm.”

tagging: @simplybakugou thanks for beta reading lovely ♥︎ & big thanks for thirsting with me & basically directing the fic @lildreamer93​ ♥︎

also available on AO3 here

  ─── ・°* ﾟ✧:* • ｡ﾟ:*･☽･*: ｡ﾟ•*:✧ ﾟ*°・ ───

🅃he dark clouds approaching the mountain paint the sky in an ominous manner, the wind scraping your raw cheeks. You place one foot in front of the other, the snow crunching with protest underneath your weight. Your nose is runny, tucked beneath a thick scarf, and your eyes are glassy from the freezing winds that only seem to be intensifying. The thick coat does its best to block the wind from your body, but the powerful gusts manage to sneak through the fastenings down your middle, allowing cold to quietly spread into your body.

A hand around your forearm rustles you from your bleary focus on the path ahead of you. Your accomplice’s heterochromatic gaze pierces into your tired eyes, the only parts of your faces that aren’t tucked away under layers of clothes. He gently pulls your arm towards him, and with his gloved fingers wrapped securely around your limb, he guides you off of the path. You enter an empty snowbank littered with skinny, ice-covered trees, almost collapsing on the slight decline of the trail.

Shouto catches you awkwardly, the thick outerwear making his movements slower than usual. But he holds you steady, refusing to let you fall into the thick carpet of white that licks up to the middle of your calves. Pulling your body close to his, his worried eyes fall on your closed ones, making his heart thump against his ribcage. With your head laying on his shoulder, he leans forward and talks in a slightly heightened voice so you can hear him over the screaming winds. “Y/N-san, let’s take a break,” he suggests, but it doesn’t sound like there is much room for disagreement.

You nod weakly, your gloved hand finally coming up out of your pocket to push yourself off of him to show him you still have some strength left. It’s just so damn cold.

Shouto frowns underneath his scarf, his hands falling from your figure as you stand on your own once more. He watches you lean against one of the thin trunks that pierces through the chalky blanket on the ground. He can tell you’re exhausted, and he won’t lie— he’s not feeling his strongest at the moment either. His left hand offered to you, you grab onto his arm for support, mustering up the strength to continue the trek to your destination.

But he steers you into the middle of the clearing, where no spindling trunks break the perfect layer of ivory on the forest floor. He shakes your hold off of his arm much to your distaste, but as soon as he’s freed the limb, he wraps it around your shoulders, collecting your body into his chest. You bend into him willingly, your hidden cheeks feeling warm for the first time in hours.

With you secured tightly against him, Shouto pushes down the scarf covering his face, his teeth gripping the fingertip of his right glove. Your eyes widen as he exposes his hand to the howling, icy winds, and a part of you wants to immediately grab his fingers and tuck them away from the offensive temperature. But you can’t help the awe that blooms in your chest as a stream of frost explodes from his outstretched palm. He flicks his wrist casually, and the ice that lands on the ground builds around you into an effortless, shiny dome. He continues the motion until the bellowing wind no longer assaults your ears, and your eyes are no longer watery.

Your gaze roams over his creation, admiring the way the ice has a perfect sheen, halfway clear enough to produce a distorted reflection that peers back at you. Your shaking hands snake out of the pockets in your jacket, hesitantly hooking the material of your scarf down to tuck under your chin. “W-Wow, Shouto-san, this is… incredible,” you murmur, eyes finally landing on the tall male who’s currently savoring the cute, dazed look on your face.

His mouth curves into a half smile, his expression softening at your pink cheeks and nose. “I’m going to step out and thicken the walls before the storm hits, so just sit tight, Y/N-san. I won’t be long.” He turns and removes his other glove, placing the pair on the glistening snow by his feet. He activates his quirk, blasting a hole half his height into the side of the dome, and leaving your field of vision.

You quickly pull the scarf back up over your face. Even if the formation Shouto had created shields you from the full force of the wind, the powerful gusts still creep into the dome and tousle your clothes. You waddle over to his gloves, collecting the cloth and tucking it under your arm so the snow doesn’t dampen the material. You shake the heavy pack down your shoulders, frowning as it lands unceremoniously into the snow. Your clumsy fingers quivering, it takes a few tries to pinch the zipper— but you finally latch on and pull it sideways triumphantly, your other hand searching for the black, waterproof material inside.

You finally find the tent at the bottom of your backpack, and you unfold it haphazardly, spreading the textile across the top of the snow. Hopefully the fabric will be thick enough to stop some of the cold from the frozen ground from seeping through. Your mind wanders as your hands run over the thick material, thinking back to just days before you were caught in this blizzard.

Your agency had been working with Shouto’s in order to take down a ring of criminals who were known for slipping into the shadows after committing their heinous acts, due to their extensive knowledge of the Japanese landscape. You and Shouto had been in the same group that was to watch over the foothills of the mountains surrounding the village that was known to be their next hit, but the villains had scattered upon seeing the group of heroes. You had each been prepared with packs, clothes, and rations, but the ensuing blizzard was quite the surprise. You weren’t sure how exactly you ended up with Shouto, just the two of you, but you could not muster up even a scrap of a complaint. He was so charming and handsome after all— if you had to be stuck in this storm with anyone, you were glad it was with him. Not to mention his quirk seemed like the perfect match for the cold storm almost upon you.

You’re torn from your thoughts as Shouto’s frame hunches through the hole he had created, his back to you as he seals the tunnel with more ice. You realize how much darker it had become, the ice not nearly as transparent as before. You wonder how much he had thickened the walls of your refuge, or if the dark was due to the icy squall that had begun to howl outside.

Shouto turns, heaving out a sigh as he drops the pile of logs he had carried, the cylindrical segments rolling on the icy snow. He takes in the tent on the ground, and lets out a breath of air as he forces the hood of his jacket off his head, his scarf once again falling down to reveal his face. “Looks like we’ll be here for awhile,” he humors, crouching down in the center of the floor and directing his left palm there. Flames lick his skin as he melts the snow, a puddle forming in the center of the ground before it evaporates, leaving a rocky, earthy terrain underneath. “Perfect,” he murmurs, positioning the logs into a triangular pile, keeping the flame on his palm lit to provide enough light.

You watch as he nods absentmindedly at the wooden stack on the ground, lowering his hand to the logs and letting the flames lap at the bark. You chuckle hastily, making his eyes dart towards your face. At his inquisitive look, your gaze drops to the flames starting to take on the kindlings. “Shouto-san, I don’t know what I’d do without you,” you state bashfully, sitting down atop the tarp. You add a bit quieter, “I think I would’ve froze to death by now if I hadn’t found you.”

A miniscule shade of pink flashes across his cheeks, but it’s hard to tell if it’s from your words or from the cold. He intently watches the flames grow for a moment before his eyes jump to yours, the small smile resurfacing on his rosy lips. “I would never let that happen, Y/N-san.”

Unsure how to respond, your eyes dart away from his, landing on the fire once more. “Won’t that melt the, uh… igloo?” You ask, looking at the high ceiling of the dome directly over the growing embers. Shouto had made the structure a considerable height, so you figured he had accounted for it, but you wanted to change the subject anyway.

“I tried to make the top of the structure far away enough so it won’t… but even if it does, I can just refreeze it,” he assures, standing up and walking over to you. You scoot to the side as he sits beside you, taking advantage of the tent. You nod as if you hadn’t already come to that conclusion, taking a shy glance at him.

He’s a respectable distance away from you, but close enough to reach out and touch. He catches your glance, the gentle smile still gracing his mouth. Your eyes widen as you notice a long scratch on the side of his face, slashing over the bottom of his scar. “Shouto-san! Are you okay?” You scoot towards him, your hands reaching out to touch his face. His eyes widen at your bold gesture, and he stiffens as you take his chin into your gloved hands.

Shouto lets out a stifled chuckle, his hands folding tightly on the tops of his legs. “It’s just a scratch.” Even if it’s through the thick sheepskin mittens, he allows himself to enjoy your touch for a moment. He shakes off his own backpack, your hands sinking off his face as he holds it up in one hand and jerks his head toward it. “I’m better off than this thing, anyway.”

The backpack is torn, the majority of the bag totally missing as if it had been ripped away forcefully; completely shredded. You gape at the object, then check the back of his jacket to thankfully discover it’s totally intact.

“The guy I was chasing had a strange animalistic quirk that gave him sharp teeth,” Shouto looks at the disheveled rucksack, “and claws.” He points at the scratch along his high cheekbone, shrugging his shoulders in a relaxed manner. His stomach flips at the frown that blossoms on your lips.

You turn away from him and rummage through your bag, making an exclamation as you find the small first aid kit you had packed. His eyebrows raise as you look at him shyly, pulling off your gloves in a modest fashion. “Please let me patch you up,” you appeal, grabbing the tube of antibiotic ointment hastily and uncapping it. “I want to feel like I’ve at least helped you in some way today. My quirk isn’t very useful out here,” you chuckle sadly, eyes trailing off to the side of his face.

Shouto nods crisply, his gaze trained on the hand stretching toward him. “Thank you,” he mumbles, watching how your bare fingers shake violently. He knows you’re cold, but it shocks him when your fingertip touches his cheek— the icy feeling making his skin prickle. He allows you to spread the cream across the cut, but immediately once you’re done, he envelops the back of your hand in his own, long fingers folding around yours. “Y/N-san, you’re so cold,” he says almost to himself, his other hand following the same action.

With your hands in his, your face blooms into a heated flush, a gentle gasp escaping you at the tingles that sprout on your skin fed by his natural warmth. Your reaction spurs him on, and he transfers your hand so that both of them are tucked neatly into his left. The burst of intense heat makes your eyes go wide as he activates his quirk ever so slightly. The sheer strength of even a fraction of his power sends a chill down your spine, a fuzzy numbness rushing through your hands as they regain feeling.

“S-Shouto-san,” you gulp, attempting to pull your hands from his to no avail, “you should save your strength, I can use the fire— I’m fine!”

Shouto’s eyebrow quirks amusedly at your request. “This is nothing,” he counters, but upon inspecting your sheepish expression, he begrudgingly grants your wish, his hands placing yours on your lap before disappearing into his pockets.

Your newly-nimble fingers hastily grab a flat, rectangular paper out of the first aid kit. You peel off the strips from either side of a bandage, placing the sticky side diagonally over the scratch on his cheek. He seems satisfied with the way your fingers only barely quiver now, and he doesn’t attempt to take your hands into his again.

“Thank you for helping me, Y/N-san,” he smiles at you, making the cold in your bones feel just a bit duller. You nod, closing the kit and placing it on the ground next to your bag. The conversation dries, and you wrack your brain to think of something to talk about. You and Shouto were friendly colleagues, but you’d never really had the chance to talk to him alone like this, and you were both not really the talkative type.

Reaching into your pack, you produce a cup-ramen and offer it to him. “Are you hungry, Shouto-san? I have two, so I have more than enough to share.”

Shouto accepts the package, a grin spreading on his lips. “Now here you are, saving my life,” he jests, peeling the lid halfway before shoveling some snow into the bowl with the lip of the container, “I could get used to your care.” You laugh a little too hard at his joke, following his actions with your own cup. You hand him the cup and he melts the snow leisurely, the water turning to a boil before he closes the lid, placing the cup on the ground in front of you.

As he copies the actions on his own cup, your hands find the chunky receiver the team had given each member before the stakeout started. Turning the device on, you hiss at the static shriek that pierces your eardrums, quickly lowering the volume before checking each of the channels. “Seems like the storm is interfering with the walkie,” you comment, placing the malfunctioning device back into your bag.

Shouto nods thoughtfully, his fingers laced underneath his chin as if he is in deep thought. “The storm will probably last the majority of the night. We’ll have to camp here for a while and we can check how the weather is at first light,” he explains his plan and you agree.

The pair of you eat your ramen in a comfortable silence, your toes slowly gaining feeling as you hold the tips of your boots close to the fire. You share the filtered water you had brought with the man beside you, both of you drinking only a third of the water combined in a mindful manner.

With the blood rushing to your stomach to digest the processed noodles, your fingertips begin to grow cold again. You push up your scarf once more, covering your pink nose and sticking your palms out toward the fire.

Shouto watches you with careful regard before glancing at his watch. “Y/N-san, perhaps you should try to rest while we wait for daylight,” he suggests, eyes twinkling at how cute you look with your eyelids drooping heavily in near-slumber.

You shoot him a lazy smile, nodding at his suggestion. You find the thick, silky sleeping bag that takes up the majority of your backpack’s capacity, undoing the bands that keep it compressed together. Noticing his lingering gaze on you, you shoot him a confused look. “Are you going to lay down as well, Shouto-san? We can use the tarp here if we lay next to each other.”

He smiles at your offer. “I would rather keep watch in case the villains decide to surprise us.”

You frown at his responsible intentions. “No one is going to be out in this blizzard, though. If the villains are dumb enough to do that, then they’ll surely be popsicles by the time we find them. Please, you should rest too, Shouto-san.” You pat the space on the tarp next to your sleeping bag expectantly.

He chuckles awkwardly, palm landing on the back of his neck. “I… seem to have lost my sleeping bag, actually,” he trails off, looking at the scraps of his backpack that remain. “Most of my things fell out when I was fighting.”

As if the thought comes to you both at the same time, your eyes meet and a flush replaces his usual suave expression. “You can share mine,” you speak before the words register in your brain, and as soon as they do, sweltering heat infiltrates your own cheeks. “I mean— if that would— if you need…  it wouldn’t be w-weird. Besides… we should probably stay close for,” you gulp, “b-body heat.”

“Are you sure you’re okay with that?” He replies a little too quickly for his own liking, cringing minorly at himself. He looks sideways at you, hesitance clear on his face.

You nod at him and he stiffly moves to the other side of the sleeping bag, willing his breath to stay steady. You unlace your boots, immediately sliding your woolen-sock clad feet inside. You wiggle into the slot, heart racing. Shouto takes off his own boots and shimmies into the envelope with you. It’s a one-person sleeping bag so the fit is a bit snug, the front of his jacket brushing against the back of yours. His long arm reaches over your torso to zip the bag closed, instantly withdrawing his hand to his side afterwards.

Now that you’re pushing up against him, he can feel your coat is slightly wet from the snow. “You should take that off— it’ll only make you colder since it's damp,” he whispers in your ear, making you stiffen against him. Shuffling a bit, your bottom skims against his crotch and his breath catches in his throat. His eyes admiring the tight sweater that’s revealed as you shed the jacket, he realizes his jacket is probably the same. He removes his as well, his hips pressing into your ass but they’re gone before you can even blink, his folded jacket a makeshift pillow long enough to cushion both your heads.

With both your jackets removed, he can feel how truly cold you are; your body shivering and your breath slightly hitched. You curl into yourself as much as you can, willing the frost away by brushing your limbs against each other slightly. The sleeping bag has good insulation, but it barely does anything yet since you offer no heat for it to retain. Your hands curl into half-fists, pressing them against your lips in hope to thaw them with your shaky breath.

Shouto’s warm breath on the shell of your ear sends a shiver down your spine. “Y/N-san, you’re shivering,” he comments, eyes raking over the smooth skin at the back of your neck. You gaze into the fire for a moment, begging for some kind of confidence in this situation.

You shift onto your back, rolling onto your other side so you can look at him. The wisp of courage you had scraped up is viciously snatched from you as your eyes meet his.

The emotion in his eyes is something you’ve never seen before, the intensity intimidating you so much that your lungs still mid-breath. His gaze is half-lidded, his hair falling perfectly over his eyes. Hot breath washes over your raw cheeks enticingly, making your skin prickle with apprehension.

“Can I…,” he trails off, and you’re surprised when you feel his fingers sheathe around yours, pulling your wrists directly toward his mouth. Your stomach flips as he breathes out, the warm air caressing your chilled skin. “Can I warm you up, Y/N?”

You swallow harshly, your eyes the size of dinner plates, you’re sure. But Shouto’s expression doesn’t falter, and your silence doesn’t bother him as he places the softest kiss on your knuckle. You’re shaking again, even though the cold in your body is pushed far into the back of your mind. “S-Shouto-san,” you peep, your voice an octave higher than usual. It feels strange to say his name so intimately, but he seems to enjoy the sound.

He lets out a long exhale, closing his eyes as his thumb presses into the middle of your palm, forcing your hand to open. “Your teeth are chattering— you’re so cold,” he states, a hand letting go of your wrist to jump to your waist.

It’s true, your skin is shockingly frigid against his, and your teeth rattle slightly at the loss of your jacket. His lips press against the next knuckle, keeping your gaze captured to his magnetic stare. His eyes are so intoxicating; one a refreshing aqua and the other a swirling storm of gray. They both hold an unspeakable passion; a force that quiets all your worries as soon as they sprout.

“I said I wouldn’t let you freeze, Y/N.” His fingers on your waist tighten and he pulls your body flush against his in one swift movement. Only the thick sweaters keep your skin from touching, and his hand slides up the curve of your waist, underneath the hem of the knitted fabric. You gasp, watching his wrist disappear at the bottom of the sweater as his hand glides across your skin. Even though this is his ice side, his touch is so warm compared to your flesh. You look back up to see he’s inched closer to you, lips nearly brushing against yours. “Are you gonna let me keep my word?”

You can’t seem to find any words, your body overwhelmed by his hot fingers dragging along your side. His stare demands your attention, and no matter how desperately you want to look away, your body refuses to follow your wishes. You can feel your nipples hardening against the cup of your bra, a warm tingle emerging between your legs. Your pussy flutters underneath your panties as he continues to kiss your hands, lips wandering over each knuckle, fingertip, and line along your palms. The realization that his touch is doing things to you only makes you feel more flustered.

Shouto’s hand weaves over yours, heat radiating off of him as he places your hand on the cusp of his jaw. “You’re still shivering,” he states, finally breaking eye contact only to glance at your lips briefly before his gaze returns to yours.

You find yourself nodding slightly, unconsciously welcoming his next intentions. Your fingers, now warmed and feeling fuzzy, push into the hair behind his ears, gently guiding his face toward yours. Your lips part with a soft whimper as his hand underneath your sweater flattens, the entire palm introducing a pleasant heat to your chilled skin. Shouto gathers you closer to him, strong arm wrapping around your waist tighter and pushing your face to fall only a short distance away from his. You can feel his breath on your face, warm and soft, as his eyes search your face for any hint of reluctance. He closes the space between your mouths at a turtle’s pace, allowing you ample opportunity to push him away.

But you don’t— you grab the front of his shirt with your free hand, the hand behind his ear pushing him forward so his lips lock with yours. A shared, strangled moan resonates off the walls of the igloo, lips pushing and pulling against each other at a feverish pace. The kiss is hot, and his lips feel like heaven against yours as his hands feather down your spine.

“Your lips are really warm,” you murmur as you pull away to catch your breath, eyes still closed and lungs feeling tight from a combination of the lack of air and the excitement— lust— pumping through you. Heat floods your cheeks as you realize you’d voiced your thoughts, an entertained look crossing Shouto’s features.

“Good,” he says as his lips touch yours again, this time more delicately than last. He kisses you for a moment, just long enough for you to lose your train of thought, before he pulls back quickly. “I’m gonna get you nice and warm, Y/N— I promise,” Shouto vows, capturing your mouth and claiming it as his, his tongue separating your lips and exploring your mouth.

You moan at the new sensation, allowing the wet muscle to dominate yours, body feeling weak, and hot, and wonderful. Shouto’s hands are still wandering over your skin underneath your sweater, rounding your waist to creep up your chest. Just as he’d been to initiate the kiss, his touch rises slowly, pausing just underneath the swell of your breast. The warmth seeps into your ribs, and you surprise yourself when your own hand leaves his chest to push his elbow up, moving his hand on top of your bra.

Shouto groans into your mouth, and you swear you can feel your panties dampen at the noise. Vibrations against your lips, your hand in his hair pulls gently at his scalp in response, only to elicit a second, similar sound from his throat. His hand squeezes your chest just the right amount— not too rough, but not gentle either— making you whimper into his mouth. He thumbs over your nipple through the thin silky material, lips curving into a satisfied smirk when you moan louder this time, fingers tightening your hold on him.

Your tongues tangling in a slow, sensual embrace, you drink up the heavy breaths that leave his open lips, high on his warmth and his touch. The thumb rubbing along your bra traces the edge of the cup, toying with the soft flesh underneath.

“Is this okay?” Shouto inquires huskily against your lips, inducing shivers to shoot toward your core. He’s crawling atop your body to hover above you, the sleeping bag rustling as he stays close to you, one leg splitting between yours and the hand not on your breast moving to prop himself up.

“Y-Yes Shouto-san,” you whine, eager to feel his tongue back on yours already. Your limbs are still shaking from the cold, but the excitement that blooms from his touch mixes into your veins like warm nectar to combat the icy frost that lingers there. His knee isn’t quite high enough to touch your pussy, but your cheeks become warmer at the realization that you want it to be.

“I’m gonna take care of you,” he murmurs before his lips press against yours again, eliciting a weak moan from you. His kiss is warm and intoxicating, yet firm. Tongue invading your mouth again, you sigh contentedly as his hand squeezes at your breast, thumb dipping underneath your bra to brush against your pebbled bud. He starts to move his body just enough to create some friction between the two of you, and you moan again at the novel sensation, your hand moving around his broad shoulders to dig your nails into his sweater.

Your mind is hazy, unable to focus on anything as his mouth lands on the skin of your neck, a breathy moan washing over your throat as he begins to kiss and suck there. You squirm underneath his wide frame, the feeling of his tongue rolling against you stoking the fire between your legs. Your body is beginning to feel warm, your heart beating erratically against your ribs.

Shouto’s hand wanders further up your torso, the hem of your sweater sliding up to rest on the top of his wrist. He smiles against your neck, pulling your bra down so your breasts fall out of the cups, his calloused thumb immediately caressing your nipple again and rubbing over it gently. “Do you like that?” He asks, lips trailing to kiss the underside of your jaw. “Because I really like that.” A forefinger joins his thumb and he pinches the nub, causing it to harden under his warm touch.

You cry out, head thrown to the side in pleasure. It seems that was Shouto’s plan all along, because he ravishes the newly revealed skin on your throat, altering between roving his tongue along your flesh and nipping his teeth softly. “Y-Yes, I like it, Shouto-san,” you answer breathlessly, your legs curling to draw his hips closer to yours. The feeling of his body flush against yours has an incredible heat surging through your entire being, caressing your bones and fluttering in your core.

Shouto’s purr rumbles along your skin, his head dipping down to place a path of kisses along your collar bones. Your hand flies up to grab onto his red and white locks, fingernails scraping his scalp gently and causing a moan to fall from his parted lips. “You’re so beautiful, Y/N,” he praises, lifting your sweater over your shoulders and off your body. Before you can feel self-conscious, he swiftly delivers another kiss to your lips as he tears his own sweater above his head, revealing a pale torso rippling with firm muscles. Your breath catches in your throat at the sight hovering above you; his hair slightly messy from taking his shirt off as his gaze holds your own, a hunger blatant and all-consuming in his eyes.

You whimper as his mouth crashes to yours once more, your spine arching naturally as his arm curls around your waist, fingers moving to undo the clasp of your bra and succeeding swiftly. His kiss is slow and soft as he pulls the straps from your shoulders, tossing the item onto the tarp beside the sleeping bag.

Shouto looks at your naked form below him as if he’s a man starved, and you the most delicious feast he could possibly imagine. His hand moves to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear, eyes half-lidded and tongue poking out to roll over his lips. You watch as he leans down, warm lips brushing against your jaw and moving to trail down the length of your neck. But he doesn’t stop there; his mouth wanders further down, prospecting the soft flesh of your breast with kisses and long swipes of his tongue.  

“S-Shouto-san,” you call his name when he finally reaches your nipple, mouth enveloping the bud and rolling his tongue around it leisurely, showering you with kitten licks that makes your pulse race. A long moan escapes you, your head thrown back onto his jacket and your eyes drifting shut as he begins to suck on your sensitive nub. “Oh, that feels—” you cut off as his teeth scrape your flesh, hips bucking up into his instinctively.

He only smiles, gently pulling your nipple between his lips and continuing to wash your skin with his hot tongue. “Does that feel good, angel?” He asks, his free hand moving to cup your other breast.

You nod even though he can only see the bottom of your chin, your mouth agape as rushed pants tumble out. Your pussy twitches in your panties when his mouth moves to your other breast, ravishing it in the same fashion. Your brows cinch, fingers woven in his hair and grabbing frantically at the roots as your body welcomes the waves of pleasure Shouto provides. A hand lands on the thick muscle atop his shoulder, gripping onto him and fingernails nearly breaking his perfect skin. Your hips buck again when his teeth graze your nipple, and heat bursts through you as your thigh rubs against something hard.

Shouto moans at the friction, the noise sending vibrations through your chest. “Fuck, Y/N,” he grumbles, popping off your breast and returning to hover his face above yours. “You know you’re absolutely gorgeous, right?” He doesn’t allow you to reply, lips conquering yours and sending a sweet chill through your body.

You make a noise of surprise when he begins to gently grind against your crotch, rubbing his erection onto you. The action has your brain short-circuiting, lust surging through your body now more than ever. God, you want him. You want him bad.

Shouto seems to feel the same way, for he presses your bodies flush against each other, and you whimper when his hot skin touches yours. Another meek noise floats out of you as he shuffles the two of you into a new position, landing on his back with you hovering above him this time. He’s kissing you again, and your brain can’t seem to catch up with him, for he now has two free hands and he uses them to grab your hips, guiding them to move along his own and continue providing the friction of the grinding from before.

Your head is spinning at the stimulation, your slick clit rubbing along the inside of your panties. And even though there’s two pairs of thick pants between the two of you, you can feel your pussy right above his clothed cock, dragging deliciously against him.

His fingers move to the front of your pants, ripping the zip downwards and digging his thumbs into the space between the material and the flesh of your hips. Shouto pushes the cloth off your body with surprising ease, your ass coming into contact with the sleek lining of the sleeping bag. Leaving the material bunched at your knees, Shouto places his hand on the back of your neck and guides your lips to land on his, his tongue tracing your bottom lip before he pulls it into his mouth gently, a growl-like moan rumbling in his throat.

You jump slightly when a hand lands on your hip, long fingers sprawled out over your panty-clad ass. His dull fingernails drag along the cloth, digits looping underneath the band at your hip and toying with it— pulling it down gently before putting it back in place, and repeating the action. You whine against his mouth, falling to your elbows on either side of his head, your hair cascading around your faces.

Shouto’s hand slips between your legs, cupping your pussy in his large palm. “Do you want more?” He teases, tone dark with desire and a hint of playfulness. He kisses the corner of your mouth as you moan quietly, trying to grind yourself against his hand. The action only makes him grin, his other hand cupping your chin and guiding you to look at him. “Answer me, beautiful.”

Your throat tight and mind foggy, you whine at his demand, eyelids falling closed as you lean into his touch. “Yes, I want m-more, Shouto-san,” you respond, humiliation spurring a heat to rise to your cheeks. You’d never begged for a man’s touch like this, and the thought has you both wanting to hide in mortification and spread your legs wide for him.

“Mmm,” he mumbles, moving your face to place your lips on his again. The very tips of his fingers begin to move along your slit through your underwear, starting with gentle circles on your entrance and trailing up to your clit.

His touch has you gripping his hair again with both hands in trembling fists, broken whimpers dislodging from your throat. His long digits toy with your pussy through the sheer, soaked material, separating your folds with his pointer and ring finger for his middle to dip into you just a tad, pushing your panties inside yourself slightly. You cry out, for even at such a shallow depth, the heat leaks from his fingertip into your pussy, melting away your inhibitions. It’s not enough to stretch you, but your walls twitch in anticipation around the digit, causing a smile to spread on Shouto’s lips.

He kisses the other side of your mouth, your eyes still shut tightly and your lip caught between your teeth. “Do you want even more?” He murmurs, stroking your cheek with the back of his fingers. “Say my name, Y/N.”

His command is absolute, tone gruff, like he can’t seem to catch his breath—  it makes you look at him, only to send another shocking thrill toward your cunt at the lustful fervor in his gaze. You lick your lips, croaking out a shy, “Shouto-san.” His thumb grazes over your clit in reward, but you only push your hips down in search of that searing fingertip. When he moves his fingers in accordance with your body, you let out a distressed whine. “Pleaseee,” you whimper, placing a hesitant kiss on the column of his neck.

Shouto sighs at your appeal, deft fingers curling around the edge of your panties to gather them to the side of your throbbing pussy. Your body jolts as he brushes your slick folds with the lightest touch, another noise of desperation floating past your lips. “No, beautiful,” he murmurs, voice deep enough to drag you under like a powerful tide pulling you lost into a sea of pleasure, “My name— just my name.”

The gasp that you surrender surprises you, and you’re not sure if it’s more from his request or from his thumb beginning to circle your needy clit. A string of low moans flees your throat as he presses harder against you, the digit sliding around the bundle of nerves with ease, slick with your arousal.  “But… but Shouto-s-san, I…,” you trail off, distracted as two hot fingertips begin to play with your entrance, curling just enough to hook against the edge of your walls and tease another groan out of you.

“You…,” Shouto continues for you, that taunting tone dripping from his voice again, “You don’t want it, Y/N?” He’s teasing you, but only because you’re so delectably responsive to him— he can feel your pussy twitch against his fingers, your slick drenching the digits and making it irresistible for him to go even further.

“No— I want it,” you hurry to respond, fearful that he’ll withdraw his touch before you have the chance to feel him inside of you. Anything for that. “I want more,” you take a small breath, propping yourself up with your hands on either side of his neck, your eyes finding his. “Please, I— I need you… Shouto-s—”

Two fingers slide into you with ease, stealing away the chance for you to utter the honorific, instead rendering you helpless as a loud, wanton moan erupts from your lips. Shouto’s fingers are long and thick, the pads rough and already rubbing against just the right place. His other hand rests on the front of your hip, digits curled around your side as his thumb stretches to stimulate your clit. Your eyes roll back as he pulls out, your velvet walls shuddering and another sound of pleasure filling the still air inside the igloo as he pushes back in. You’re already embarrassed enough from his teasing and him cheating away the respect the -san represents, but a new wave of mortification crashes over you as the spring inside your stomach begins to compress. You’ve never been so turned on in your life, so embarrassed, so naughty— desperate.

“You’re gonna cum already, aren’t you?” Shouto’s voice cuts through your foggy, aphrodisiacal headspace, and you can only nod, jaw hanging open and broken mewls tumbling out. Your hands fly to grab onto his shoulders in favor of the sleeping bag covering the ground, nails grappling into his skin. You can’t even find the sanity to shield your dissolute, wrecked expression from his watchful gaze underneath you, which he laps up eagerly— only fueling his plight as he begins to curl the digits toward himself. He’s rewarded with a higher-toned squeal, your cunt squeezing around him until he can only repeat the ‘come here’ motion. “Go ahead, beautiful. I wanna see your pretty face when you cum for me,” he implores.

That’s all you need to topple over the edge. Your pussy grips his fingers snug, fluttering as a numbing bliss explodes between your legs. Hips rocking shakedly against his grasp, you release a ragged groan as he continues to rub circles on your sensitive pearl. Your entire body is filled with a blistering warmth; you can feel it from the tips of your ears to your still-curled toes. Collapsing onto his chest, your lungs gasp for air as your head continues to spin, a content thrum pulsing through your bones as your pussy continues to spasm upon his hand. “S-Shouto,” you sigh, one hand slipping down to rest on the other side of his chest, fingertips biting into his skin slightly.

Shouto exhales a similar sound, fingers leaving your sloppy hole as he wraps his other arm around your waist. Bringing his fingertips to his lips, he keeps his gaze locked with yours as his tongue darts out, concealing the first knuckle from your sight.

Horror floods through you at the sight; dirty, nasty thoughts pouring into your mind. You try to get him to stop, your cheeks feeling hot once again. “Shouto-san, that’s—”

You succeed to some degree; he pulls his fingers from his mouth, but only to press them against your lips, sliding the digits deep into your mouth until they hit the back of your throat. “Bad girl, using honorifics,” he admonishes, tone suddenly dark and not at all warm nor soft as it was before— yet somehow it makes your cunt flutter in excitement, reawakening and already aching to be filled again. Your eyes widen in surprise, but you don’t gag, and Shouto only groans at such a discovery. “Don’t you think we’re past using formalities?”

He has a point, so you just flutter your lashes at him and moan onto his fingers, lips pursing around them and sending a shiver down his spine.

“Taste yourself— see, angel? You’re so sweet— god, you’re sexy, and you’ve no idea, do you?” He seems to be saying that last part to himself but you still nod, tongue wrapping around his fingers and making sure to clean him well. You want to show him you’re not bad; you’re a good girl, you can be a good girl for him.

Shouto swallows, eyes following your tongue as it wanders along his finger to poke between your lips, washing against his skin. He growls at the sight, ripping both hands away from you and ensnaring your wrists in his palms. With just one solid movement he tosses you underneath him, your back sliding against the silky lining of the sleeping bag and warming at the heat his body had left behind. You’re trying to find your bearings as Shouto fumbles with his pants, finally managing to rid one leg of the thick material and slip himself between your thighs.

Your heart begins to thump rapidly in your chest as you feel the smooth head of his cock drag against your folds, your cunt clenching in desire and your lip held prisoner between your teeth. Both of your ragged breaths tangle in the small space between you, your hands reaching to grasp the tops of his shoulders, legs spreading as much as they can in the confines of the single-person sleeping bag. Tossing your head back in agony as he teases your opening, coating himself in your slick, your cum. You’ve never felt so needy before— the urge to be filled and stretched around him dominating your every thought.

“Please— god, please Shouto,” you beg, and for a brief moment you find yourself wondering what exactly his cock looks like, the realization that you haven't actually seen it hitting you and yet here you are pleading for him to just put it in. What if he’s hung like a horse? And you’re about to be split in two— or what if he’s an average joe? Well from the foreplay he definitely knows what he’s doing so maybe—

Your entire body stills and a breathless squeal escapes your lungs as he thrusts into you in a single, swift movement. Your walls quiver in fiery pleasure as he penetrates you, his thick cock spreading you and filling you and reaching deep inside of you as his hips bump yours. You didn’t realize you were this wet; he slid into you in one go and by the feel of him, you know that’s no easy feat. But your mind doesn’t have any time to process it, for Shouto lets out the most sexy groan you’ve ever heard in your life. His head falls to rest against your throat, soft hair tickling your skin as you feel gentle pants wash over you.

“You’re so tight, Y/N— shit,” he moans again as his hips retract, pushing back inside of you slowly as if to test the waters. His cock glides inside of you, thick veins rubbing against your silky walls and making a soft whine struggle to evade your lungs. It’s the first time you’ve ever heard Shouto swear, and a twisted sense of pride fills your chest at the thought of him being so into this— into you— that he’s lost all his usual self-restraint.

A few more tentative thrusts have you crying out for him, another flash of intense heat spreading through your body and each of your limbs. Shouto cradles the back of your neck in one palm, the other hand slipping around the back of your waist in order to bend your back to his liking. The angle pops your breasts up against his chest, and he swears again as your hard nipples drag across his skin. Claiming your lips as his once again, his hips begin to push into yours at a steady pace, setting the tempo at a slow but hard pace. With each crash of his hips against yours, you feel like your lungs have lost all function— his balls slap heavy against your ass, sweat starting to trickle down your thighs that come around to draw his body closer to yours, your wrists crossed around his neck and his lips slotting against yours messily.

If your mind was foggy before, now you cannot even see your own hands in front of you; your brain is dizzy and oxygen-starved, mind spinning in circles every time his hips knock into yours. Each thrust has him burrowing far inside of you, your pussy trying desperately to keep up with his quickening pace but failing— leaving you butterflied, completely open for his assault to continue. When your ankles lock behind his waist, heels digging into his firm ass, his cock begins to hit a new spot inside of you, and you wail out in shock and ecstasy.

“Shouto!” you exclaim, brow furrowing and letting out a particularly wanton moan. Your eyes nearly cross at the powerful sensation, that embarrassed feeling returning and rekindling the heat in your cheeks. From just one particularly angled thrust, the spring in your stomach makes its presence known once again.

Shouto is quick to take advantage of the weak spot you’d just revealed; his grip on you tightens as his hips begin to crash against yours, mouth sucking in your lower lip to hold hostage. Your eyes can barely stay open, but you fight yourself to maintain the eye contact Shouto offers. His stare is searing; sparks flying between the two of you as he scrutinizes every hint of pleasure you render.

The intensity has you gasping for breath, suddenly feeling hot— so hot; the sleeping bag retaining all the heat your feverish session provides. Even though you’re so close, your hands land on his chest hesitantly, tapping his sticky skin. Instantly his hips still, and he begins to examine you, a concerned expression overtaking his handsome face.

“Are you alright, beautiful?” He asks, not skipping a beat. Examining the flush on your chest and cheeks, he seems to come to the correct conclusion, turning to tear the zipper down the track toward your joined hips. Cool air washes over your sweaty skin, and you sigh at the refreshing sensation licking over your skin. You whimper as Shouto leans down toward you, frosted breath swirling over your clavicles and offering you instant relief from the hot flash that previously took over your whole being. “Guess I warmed you up too good, huh?” Shouto chuckles, and you smack his chest with a weak fist. He shifts his hips forward in response and you keen as his cock shifts deeper inside of you.

Shouto allows you a moment to catch your breath, continuing to blow cool air along your throat and chest. You bask in the revitalizing sensation, whimpering lightly as Shouto keeps a subtle and gentle pace, cantering into you just enough to keep himself hard. He kisses your neck and jaw, lips chilly yet sending hot tingles zipping through your body. “S-Shouto-san,” you mewl, sprawling out into his caress like a cat.

He only smiles against your skin, lips wandering all over your chest. The cold air radiating off the icy walls of the igloo collides with your hot skin and sends shivers down your spine. “San?” He hums, icy lips trailing along your breast until his tongue pokes out to greet your nipple. Your pussy constricts around him, his ice-cold muscle twirling round the sensitive peak and slurping it into his mouth, only to pull away with a pop. “I thought we were past that, angel.”

You groan as his cock recedes from your folds, leaving you empty and eager for more. Large, hot hands guide your hips to roll over, steering you to your face the wall of the igloo on your hands and knees. With just a cavalier flick of the wrist, a shiny coating of fresh ice blankets the interior wall, creating a cloudy reflection that brings more heat to your cheeks. You can see Shouto behind you; firm, abundant muscles lining his wide frame and his hair tousled back atop his crown, those bicolored eyes regarding you with unwavering desire. Your forehead falls to brush against the plastic of the tarp as he traces the head of his cock along your slit, your hips jerking when he nudges your clit.

Your eyelids flutter open weakly when warm kisses dance across your shoulders, a shaky moan leaving from your lips as Shouto presses into your slippery cunt once more. He sighs beside your ear, and you watch as he closes his eyes, heated lips meandering up your jaw to take the tip of your ear between his teeth. “Don’t hide from me,” he whispers, sucking cold air along your skin when your pussy grips him tight in an automatic response. He nibbles at your cartilage, thrusting halfway inside as his hand collects your chin. Turning your face, he pushes his lips against yours, silencing your moan when his hips press flush against yours. The new position has your eyes rolling back, his cock massaging that sacred spot nestled deep within your core. His tongue starts to wrestle with yours in your mouth, his palm leaving your face to press flush against your pelvis, perfectly lining up two fingertips to greet your clit.

Your jaw falls open at the added stimulation, pussy winding tight around his length and pulling him deeper inside. That familiar coil is present again in your stomach, your pulse racing and perspiration gathering down your back and above your brow. Shouto’s tongue only drives further into your mouth, toying with yours. His hips begin to smack against your ass, balls slapping the fingertips that rub steady patterns on your pearl of nerves. You can feel your orgasm building, pressure heightening at a surprising speed, and you begin to whimper onto his lips, fingers curling into the tarp underneath your hands.

Shouto takes his tongue from your mouth, a silver string of saliva connecting your mouths. “Look up, beautiful,” he instructs, nodding to the wall in front of you.

Your elbows almost give out at the scene before you, and Shouto grabs your shoulder to pull you upright, thighs spread wide to showcase where his body connects with yours. Your eyes can’t decide whether to stay on his slick cock pumping in and out of your tight hole, fingers working diligently on your clit, or to linger on his face, his scorching eyes half-lidded and teeth clamped gently on your shoulder. He kisses your neck sloppily, free hand curling around you to cup your breast and pinch your nipple with cold fingers. Your back arches, ass pressing against his hips as he starts to pound into you, your cunt quivering and trying desperately to keep up with his insatiable pace.

“See how pretty you are, Y/N?” Shouto goads in between kissing and nipping the soft skin on the side of your neck. You take a glance at yourself, that embarrassed feeling leaking through your pores again when you see how fucked-out your expression is; pupils blown in lust and mouth hanging open, tongue resting on your lower lip. “Who’s making you make that pretty face?”

You can barely find your voice, pussy pulling snug around his thick length as you hurtle toward your climax. Throwing your arm backwards around his neck, your hips try to meet his rapid tempo, and your face turns to nuzzle against the smooth expanse of his cheek. “Y-You, Shouto,” you cry, his fingers on your breast pinching tighter and beginning to roll. The honorific dangles on the tip of your tongue, but you bite your lip in order to seal it away. “I’m so— so close,” you warn, but he does not slow. His hips keep their frenzied pace, and the fingers on your clit suddenly surge with a searing heat, leaking into your pussy and pushing you over the edge.

Shouto bites out a swear, his corded arm holding you upright against his torso as your slouch onto him. Your thighs tremble as you fist the hair at the nape of his neck, the other hand flying to hold onto the wrist glued to your abdomen. Euphoria rushes through your body and your pussy clutches onto his cock like a vise, a string of incoherent babbles and moans jumbled together slithering over the skin on his throat. You want to beg him to stop, to give you a second to catch your breath, but your voice is silent as he continues his ministrations on your overstimulated clit, hips never stalling. He carefully pushes your shoulder, allowing you to catch yourself on your shaking hands, parallel to the tent. With your cheek pressed against the plastic, both his hands fly to your waist, fingers turning white as he rams into you with renewed vigor.

Unaware that he’d been holding back from full force, you scream out in absolute ecstasy at his new tempo. His cock draws along your swollen walls, balls smacking your puffy clit, fast and rough. Blearily you look at the reflection in front of you, already feeling another orgasm approaching at an alarming rate just from the sight before you; Shouto’s eyes in thin slivers underneath a furrowed brow, focused on the bounce of your ass in front of him, jaw hanging open unabashedly and hot puffs of steam billowing out. A cord stands out along his neck as he strains to deliver you such pleasure, muscles taught and tense along his torso. Both of you are breathless and about to cum, perspiration rolling along your skins from the steam and heat trapped inside the igloo.

His eyes meet yours in the reflection and you give in, cunt spasming around him, your fingers grappling onto the tent in bliss, and his name falling from your ajar lips. Through your haze of euphoria you hear him swear, a loud groan bouncing off the icy walls of the structure before he pulls out, hot ropes landing along your spine, all the way up to the curve of your shoulder. Your pussy flutters as you ride out your orgasm, vacant and craving to be filled by him again. Shouto’s hands are gentle on your hips, one turning to trail his knuckles along your skin.

Shouto leans forward and gathers you against his chest, despite your protests about the sticky fluid dripping down your back. You can feel his hot cock against your spine, still slick and hard. He carefully pulls your hair to the side, tilting your head to place his lips on yours. You melt into his embrace, feeling peaceful and satisfied. His lips curl into a soft smile to mirror yours, and you deepen the kiss for a moment before pulling away.

“Warm enough?” Shouto asks after clearing his throat, that charming smile still turning up the corners of his mouth.

You chuckle at his question before you pause, your brain beginning to come back to reality. “Definitely, but… getting cold now, actually,” you realize aloud, head swiveling around as you take in the icy walls of the igloo still standing tall, sheltering your naked bodies from the storm.

Shouto lets out a quiet noise of agreement, one hand leaving your body in favor of searching through his disheveled backpack. He swiftly returns his hand to your body, a handful of unused napkins from your earlier meal in his palm. He also cups his other hand into the snow on the ground, melting it and heating it before he lets it glide down your skin, following the rivulets with the napkin. “If we were in any other situation, I hope you know I’d take much better care of you right now,” he comments, a hint of humor in his deep voice.  

You smile at his statement, letting your hair fall in your face as you lean forward in order to aid him. “That’s alright, I think you’ve taken care of me enough,” you reply cheekily, moving toward the sleeping bag once he taps your ass gently, signalling he’s finished.

Shouto raises a thin brow, eyes trailing over your naked breasts as you slip your bottom into the sleeping bag. His hand runs over his sculpted chest, repeating the same procedure he’s just completed on his own skin. “What, now that I made you cum three times, you’re not shy anymore?”

Your cheeks flush at his remark, and you slither into the safety of the sleeping bag, shielded from his perceptive gaze. Your refuge does not last long, for Shouto shuffles inside the bag too, his warm skin pressing against yours. After he zips the compartment closed, he gathers you in his arms, shifting you so your head lays on top of his chest. You can hear the quick thump of his heart underneath your ear, blood rushing through his veins and sounding like a sweet, soothing melody. When he speaks, it rumbles in your ears, shivers swirling underneath your skin.

“You know, you’re pretty cute whether you’re shy or not,” he confesses. You make a squeak at his compliment, your cheeks feeling hotter than ever. Shouto only laughs, the addicting noise ringing off the walls of your haven. “Well, especially cute when you’re shy.”

Shouto wonders how you can be so timid after he’s fucked you senseless, but he doesn’t push his luck. He only grins as you smoosh your face onto his pec, a hand covering your inflamed cheek. You’re more than grateful when he changes the direction of the conversation.

“You should sleep, Y/N,” he suggests, fingers tracing along your hip. “You’ll need to be well-rested for the return down the mountain tomorrow. Most likely my agency already has reinforcements on the way here— it’s protocol— so we won’t have to pursue the villains any longer. Though I doubt they made it through the blizzard.”

You nod, eyelids already drooping with exhaustion. You hadn’t realized you were so drained, but after hiking up a mountain and trekking through a snowstorm, you suppose it’s only rational your body is so spent. Not to mention you’d just had the best fuck of your life, with probably the most handsome, dapper man you know.

Before you can submit to the alluring tendrils of slumber, Shouto smooths his warm palms along your spine, his voice soft and sweet like honey. “Are you sure you’re warm enough? Just tell me and I’ll heat you up, for real this time,” he murmurs, a quick wave of heat emanating from his palm as if to prove his offer holds legitimacy.

“No,” you sigh, never having felt this warm, and safe in your life, “This is perfect.”

Shouto holds you as you succumb to slumber, and he hopes you don’t notice how his heartbeat quickens, a flustered pink dusting his pale cheeks.

-—-—-—-—-—-

The trek down the mountain the next morning is light-hearted and much easier than the journey up. The sun high in the sky, the perfectly smooth snowbanks reflect the bright light of day, nearly blinding if you gaze at them too long. Shouto trudges through the knee-deep snow ahead of you, creating footholds for you to step into with more ease.

Without the heavy storm from the former night, it’s easier to see where the pair of you are going, and you make your way down to the sloping foothills of the mountain in good time. The expedition feels less cumbersome without the icy storm biting into your body, but also because Shouto talks with you the entire time. He touches your waist, holds your hand for a moment too long when he offers you his support, and grins at you without restraint. Your heart races at every interaction, giddiness trickling through your veins.

When the pair of you finally reach the base of the mountain, you’re greeted by the rest of your team. They’ve set up a makeshift camp a short distance from the mouth of the trail, just through a small spattering of trees.

Relief surges through you at the sight of your coworkers, your eyes widening and your foot automatically taking a step toward the group. But Shouto grabs your wrist, spinning you around and pulling your body close to his. The weather isn’t nearly as freezing at the bottom of the mountain, and the heat that rushes into your cheeks at the action is much more noticeable. His arm wraps around your waist, leading you to the side of the path slightly and blocking your figures with the trees.

“Y/N,” Shouto starts, eyes cast toward the side and a boyish blush on his cheeks. The sight of him so hesitant makes your stomach drop; you’re not accustomed to seeing the pro hero anything but confident and collected. Yet his voice is still just as deep and calm as he speaks, despite his flustered disposition. “Before we rejoin the team, I wanted to ask you something.”

You place your hand on his chest, fighting your bashful demeanor to comfort the man before you. “Shouto? What is it?” Head tilted to the side, your fingers spread and retract over his coat, smoothing over the stiff material there.

Hearing you call him by just his name makes him smile warmly, his stare flickering to your hand on his chest. “I know this is kind of backwards, but… I wanted to know if you’d like to have dinner with me,” he chokes out, shocked that the words come out sounding effortless and suave. “I want the chance to show you that last night was more than just sex to me.”

The rock-like feeling in your stomach dissipates, your frown melting into a timid smile. He wants to have dinner with you— a date! Last night meant something more to him; he wants to spend more time with you. Your heart swells in your chest and you nod eagerly. “Yes!” You nearly shout before you attempt to reign in your eagerness, “I mean— yes, I would— I would really like that, Shouto.”

The grin that splits across his face is more blinding than the snowbanks. It makes butterflies swarm your tummy and you can’t help but smile in return. He chuckles and the arm around your waist tightens, your body pressing against his. His lips graze your forehead and your breath catches in your lungs, a soft laugh falling from your lips.

Shouto holds you for a moment before he lets you go, dusting off his gloved hands on his pants. The faint pink drains from his cheeks, his usual indifferent expression sliding back onto his face. “Alright, let’s join the team, then,” he gestures for you to move back onto the path, and you take a step forward in front of him. A strangled noise of surprise catches in his throat when you press your lips to his in a quick, gentle kiss.

You pull away and examine his bright red cheeks, two-toned eyes wide and lips parted slightly, clearly unexpecting your sudden affection. You laugh at him, taking his wrist and tugging his stiff body back into the camp’s line of vision. Shouto seems to recover rather quickly, pinching your ass as you begin walking toward the camp. You’re about to swat at him, but your coworker notices the two of you approaching, and begins to run toward the pair of you. You shoot him a playful glare and he only smirks.

The team of fellow heroes pulls the two of you apart, fussing and showering you with a million questions— but you don’t really pay attention to any of them. Your eyes meet a blue and gray gaze through the commotion, and even without a raging storm to freeze your bones, your heart fills with warmth once again. 

  ─── ・°* ﾟ✧:* • ｡ﾟ:*･☽･*: ｡ﾟ•*:✧ ﾟ*°・ ───

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o my frickin god you guys i cannot believe this fic turned into such an absolute monster. 11k words— i am so mf extra. i hope it was worth it though, please lemme know if you wanna be trapped in an igloo with shou too LOL 🤪🥶🥵

➥ masterlist

𝐂𝐨𝐩𝐲𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 © 𝐒𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐭𝐨𝐠𝐞𝐩𝐢 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟎. 𝐀𝐥𝐥 𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐬 𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐯𝐞𝐝.

[hisoknen]

no promises || overhaul

warnings: apocalypse au, dubcon, mind break, overstimulation, orgasm denial, blood, physical trauma/injury in beginning, death of side characters wc: 2.8k

a/n: this is a piece for the bnharem collab!! make sure you go check out the other apocalypse au’s here! special thank you to @joyousandverywarlike​​ for beta reading @thewheezingwyvern brain storming with me + helping with medical stuff!

It was heard through the grapevine that the Shie Hassaikai had stockpiled food. They had first aid and many other things that were impossible to come by in the time since the collapse. 

Guards too cocky and relaxed to cover the premises. A few groups in your surrounding area had entered the compound successfully and although you have a small team and little backup, the need for provisions is far too great to ignore.

Going in with your recovery group, you quickly make silent entry into the warehouse. Despite the current circumstances in the world, this place was stocked full and spotless. You couldn't help but notice that there wasn’t a single speck of dust in the whole place, almost like no one ventured down here.

“I'm gonna head to the front Y/n, be smart. Gather as much as you can but not too much, we still gotta navigate out of this place quickly.” Your captain says in a hushed tone before advancing. 

“Remember, no one gets left behind.”

In the years before, chaos had overtaken the world. Those without a high standing in society were left in the dust to fend for themselves. It had been 10 years since the collapse of society. Only the wealthy and well connected were able to continue their lives of luxury, while the rest of the world was left to feed on the scraps of what remained. 

Shrugging the bag off of your shoulders and swinging it to your front, you unzip it and begin locating the necessary items for your team. If this is a success, you could not only head out with enough provisions for your crew, but you would also have a place to come back to in the future. 

How could you possibly gage what is too much and what isn’t enough? You need food, clothing and first aid. If you grab more gauze than food, what would happen if you ran out of provisions? There is no way to eat gauze. What is most important?

“Y/n, time to go,” you hear your captain's voice behind you seeing only his back as he heads to the exit. Quietly locating the last of the things within reach, you zip up the bag, turning back to the entrance you came in through. 

Your bag is heavier than it should be but you are known for being fast on your feet. Sprinting quietly, you open the door, catching sight of your team. “Y/n is here, we’re all ready to go.” You smile, taking a step before a loud noise sounds through your ear drums. 

What is this? Your body is overcome with a dazed feeling. You run your fingers along the side of your stomach, the damp and sticky cloth clinging to your fingers. Bringing your fingers slowly up to your eyes you see a sickly vibrant red coating them. 

The words of your captain, no one gets left behind, play over and over in your mind as you are struck by the realization of what has just happened. They wouldn’t leave you, would they? 

Your legs begin to lose their strength, hand grasping at the door frame while you begin to slide down. The slick on your fingers helps none as the concrete below comes into contact with your skull. The muffled sound of yelling in the distance, the bodies you see fleeing the warehouse and an overwhelming ringing are all you can focus on. 

No one gets left behind. No one gets left behind. No one gets left behind. Clutching at your stomach, you attempt to lessen the blood oozing from the wound. 

Breathe. Breathe. Breathe. You command yourself, gathering your last bit of strength to press your other hand onto the floor. You gain footing, only to fall flat once again, the blood spilling between the cracks in your fingers. You can’t feel anything, everything is numb.

“What do you think you’re doing, little one?” A distorted shadow looms over you, pain coursing through your body as something blunt makes contact with your back. You hear a deafening pop followed by a searing pain in your chest. You let out a silent scream, immediately regretting it as the breath catches in your throat. Lungs collapsing in on themselves as you try in vain to take in air.

The pain once sharp now radiates in your gut. Each breath you try to take feels like breathing underwater. Your vision is fuzzy. You try desperately to gulp air to keep yourself conscious. The ache is debilitating. 

You can feel it spreading to your ribs even as you stop moving, your head pulsing. The air around you feels heavy. There is no way to process the pain. All you can do is feel, as it overtakes your senses. You try in vain to move once more, vision fading to black.

—

Your eyes feel like they are glued shut, only just able to slip them open before snapping them shut immediately. There is a blinding light overhead beaming down on you. A sharp pain riddling through your body, stomach spasming. You let out an incoherent garble at the blistering sensation. 

The constriction multiplies the existing pain tenfold. You try to pull your hand to cradle your wound, only to feel a sharp cinch at your wrists. Craning your eyes down, you see that they are strapped securely into place with a thin but strong plastic. 

“Hel-,” you struggle against your limbs screaming out in agony for you to keep quiet in order to preserve energy. Where were you? Who was there to call for? Your friends? Your team? They’d all left you the moment you were shot. Crying for help is useless but what else can you do? The more you try to move, the more the pain jolts through your body. You can see that your stomach is bandaged but there is still a vibrant red slowly seeping through it. 

“I’d sit still if I were you. Seem to have broken a rib or two along with that,” a muffled voice comes from your side, gloved hand pointing at your belly. The pulsing of your head keeps you from turning it as you let out a pathetic winded gasp, wrists jerking against the binds.

“Judging by the injuries you sustained, you’re going to be bedridden for quite some time.” The man had a plague doctor mask covering his nose and mouth leaning down into your line of sight. Through your blurred vision, you can make out his pale skin matched with short, shaggy, brown hair. 

If you weren’t occupied by the fear flooding your senses, you’d find the small golden irises peeking out at you quite beautiful. You flinch away, letting out a pathetic cry as a gloved hand lands softly on your injured belly. The movement only adds to the searing pain already pumping through your veins.

“What’s your name, little thing?” Bile rises in your throat as the pressure pushing dow and predicament begin to register in your clouded mind. You tighten your lips, eyebrows furrowing. There was no way you’d give him information about your group, even if your life depended on it. 

He stares down at you unblinking, rolling up his sleeves with a huff. Removing the wet bandage he digs a gloved finger into the wound, tearing a shriek from your lips, vision spotting. The more you struggle and wheeze, the more prominent the ache in your belly becomes. His fingers curl inside of the weeping hole, tears blinding your vision, body blistering hot. There was no breath left to cry out. 

“Y/n-” you choke out, nails tearing into your palm as you fight in vain to distract yourself from the tearing of your flesh and guts. His fingers slowly ease out, allowing you to relax for a moment.

“You made me do such a disgusting thing.” He cringes behind the mask, bringing a towel to wipe away at the blood covering his gloved hand. You see the skin on his forehead break out in small bumps.

He reaches out of your sight facing you again with a clean pair of gloves.

“Please don’t kill me,” you plead with trembling lips. All you wanted to do was provide for those you loved. Why hadn’t you died when you were shot? Did he really bring you here to torture you? Hadn’t you had enough?

“No promises.” His gaze is cold and calculating, inspecting you as though you are nothing more than a pile of filth. “They left you here all alone,” he muses, “but don’t you worry, they didn’t make it far,” he says unamused, itching at his forearm with the untainted glove. You can see the skin under his hands had begin to rise, angry bumps littering the area.

“All of the-” horror overcomes you as you think of the faces of your friends and family. Looking up at his blank face gives you all the confirmation that you need.

“I might let you leave, we’ll see. I think we can both help each other right now, Y/n.” A twisted look overtakes his face as he observes you, awaiting an answer. What does he want from you? Your team's location? Who you got intel from? 

“You came all this way to steal from me, I’m making you an offer.” He tilts his head to the side, looking displeased at your lack of response. 

“What do you want?” you growl, pulling at your restraints, immediately regretting it when you feel the raw ache of your struggle. 

“You know, it’s hard being cooped up in here, all alone,” his fingers lightly dance along the raised skin on your arm. “No one there for me when I need them. No one to please me.” His hand makes its way to the outline of your collar bone. 

“You all think it’s hard out there. But imagine being me.” Your stomach churns at his suggestion that living a life of luxury is more painful than the thousands of people scavenging the remnants of the world for supplies necessary to make it through to the next day. “You look clean enough,” he ponders aloud. You couldn’t tell if he was even talking to you or reassuring himself.

“So what do you say? You give yourself to me for a while and we can act like this whole incident never happened.” The words falling from his lips make your stomach reel, yet they were filled with sweet temptation. 

Were you willing to let this man do anything he pleased to you in order to make it out of here alive? Would there be anything for you to go back to if he even followed through with his word? If there was, how would you explain to your camp why you were the only one to return?

“Yes,” you bite your tongue, swallowing your pride. It dawned on you that you were in no place to refuse in the first place. He would take what he wanted from you regardless of what your answer was. Your survival depended on your ability to choose when to fight your battles. 

“You’re a smart one,” he lets out a soft chuckle, brushing his hands across your inner thigh and trailing them up. He pulls your body roughly to the end of the table, pain flooding your limbs at the sudden movement. Your hands are still secured above you, pants torn from your body. He stands between your legs, staring at your naked core.

Pulling out a chair, his fingers find your core. He spreads your labia, coming close to eye your cunt and push the hood of your clit back. Having him touch your cunt makes you want to gag. The man who did this to you, touching your most sacred parts sends rage throughout you. Yet the way his fingers delicately dance across your clit make your cunt throb.

“Who’d think you’d get so wet in a situation like this,” he questions, holding the slick up for you to see. You stare back at it in disgust, your body betraying you. His fingers push into your warm heat, your back arching in tune with his touch. The pain from your injury fuses with pleasure as he curls his fingers inside of your fluttering hole. With each movement he makes, you feel the pressure slowly building in your stomach. 

Without the luxury of movement all of your focus turns inward on your body and the way he is taking his time to slowly coax an orgasm from you. The leather of his gloves is covered in your arousal, plunging in and out of your core languidly. Each motion sends a jolt of revulsion and arousal to your foggy mind.

“You’re such a disgusting little whore. Getting me dirty like this,” he breathes between clenched teeth, his speed picking up as irritation takes over his features. 

“I’m gonna cu-” the pressure peaks, but before you can release, his fingers tear from your abused hole, leaving it quivering.

“I didn’t keep you alive so that could you cum,” he sneers, staring at his coated fingers, looking repulsed by the fluid covering them. “You’re here for me to enjoy,” he pulls the dirtied glove from his hand, discarding them both across the room. 

He leaves your side, the sound of a drawer slamming open startles you. He appears between your legs, with a new pair, unzipping his pants. He palms his cock a few times before sliding a condom over it.

“I have waited so long for this,” he groans, digging his fingers into your hips, plunging into your pulsing cunt. A cry leaves your mouth at the sudden intrusion. He lets out a soft grunt, feeling your cunt fight against him. He continues to push into you, your walls milking him as they try and accommodate space. 

“Fuck you’re tight,” he pulls out of you slowly, easing back in inch by inch. The stretch is painful at first but soon blends into pleasure. Fingers spread apart your labia, pressing at your swollen clit, prodding against it with each rut of his hips.

Your hands tug at the restraints above your head, an ache gushing through you. You didn’t even know who the man violating your cunt was, yet you let him continue to defile you. Whines tumblr past your lips as he fills you.

“All of your team is dead and you can’t do anything but grip my cock and moan like a slut?” The words falling from his mouth bring tears to your eyes. Why were you enjoying this so much? Why does your body want more? Why do his words send a wave of arousal shuddering through your body. He’s taken so much from you, yet all you can do is let out pathetic sounds, pleading him to continue as your tongue lolls out.

“It’s like your pussy was made for me,” the sounds of slapping skin and the lewd squelching of your cunt echo through the room. Your mind goes blank, your body made to take all of what he is giving you.

There’s nothing for you to do but lie still while he milks orgasm after orgasm from you. Each time your body undulates, you feel pain in tandem, soaking into the hollow of your belly. The first orgasm takes everything from you, body limp and tender. Yet you still utter the words, begging him to keep using you, to keep fucking into your swollen pussy. Each orgasm sends a shake through your body, convulsions of agnozing pressure and relief. 

The overstimulation has sobs wracking through your spent body. You can’t take anymore, but you crave more. All you can do is focus on your breathing. You feel his pace falter, fingers digging into your hips. 

“I can’t-” A spark of electricity crashes through you when he pushes against your clit. 

A cry leaves you as he sends you over the edge a final time, bottoming out inside of you. You can feel the warmth of his release fill up the condom, his cock twitching against your walls. Your body shakes against him while your mind buzzes. The faint sound of a zipper being pulled, coaxed you out of the daze.

“When you’re able to move again, you’re free to go.” You fight to keep your eyes open, gaze following him to the other side of the room where he discards his gloves. 

“The next time you need something. Feel free to come to the front. There are... easier ways to get the things you want,” he pauses, grabbing a clean pair of gloves before walking to the door. Your eyes are droopy, his figure swimming, mind desperately trying to hang onto his words.

“But while you are here. You’ll call me Kai.”

—

masterlist

[subbing-for-clones]

She Who Walks the Line Between Part 2

Maul x GreyJedi!Reader

Word Count: 2729

WARNINGS: pain, mentions of injuries, starting of some light fluff.

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       You led the crimson and black Zabrack past your small crop field, where a large wooden table and a few stumps scattered around it sat. You placed the basket of clay to your side and took a seat, with an open hand motioned for him to settle across from you. He took your que and rested his legs down beneath him unable to sit comfortably on the wood. You folded your hands under your chin, elbows resting on the table and looked into his eyes. He fidgeted in place, uncomfortable by your unblinking gaze. He wouldn't meet your eye for longer than a few moments and stared at the Meiloorun trees that grew not far from where you two sat.

    Following his eyeline you stood and picked a few of the fruits, bringing them back to your half-starved guest and watched as he quickly ravished the purple fruits. While he was otherwise occupied you stood behind him and looked closer where his body ended and the jumbled mess of scrap began. Not just his legs but he was severed through his torso. You reached a hand out and lightly touched the lowest part of his back before the metal formed. He jumped back shocked at the touch and you raised your hands to show him you weren't going to hurt him.

"I can give you your body back rather easily however your mind is fragmented and scrambled. It will be a process but I'd like to restore you to your original form."

He had finished the fruit you offered him and stared at you in disbelief.

"That... that’s impossible." He sat wide eyed. "There's nothing to connect, my other half is... gone."

"I don't mean to reconnect you but to recreate you. That's what the clay is for." You motioned towards the basket.

"How?" He asked shocked staring at the clay and turning back to you with narrow eyes.

"In my distaste for cybernetic bodies I've learned how to regrow limbs and various body parts out of the clay found on this world. It has special properties in it. It will require much physical therapy but it can be done if you allow it."

He thought for a moment, as clearly as he could anyway and looked down at the mess of limbs beneath him. His eyes continued their narrowed stare at you.

"What do I have to do? What do you want from me?"

"Honestly?" You started with a cocked brow. "I just want some peace. That’s why I live here in solitude, the search for peace. But your suffering has reached my mind all the way out here. I figure since your existence hasn’t upset the balance for the entirety of your life, if I put you back together, get you cleaned up, back into decent shape and do something about this." You motioned to his mind. "Perhaps balance will be restored again and I can continue on with my life and my studies. In peace. All you have to do is let me."

    He thought on this longer. All he could vividly remember was his survival on Lotho Minor but the longer he was away from that hell hole, smaller, fainter memories had started coming back. He didn't think anyone had offered him a kindness like this before. Even if it was for your own personal gain, he benefitted greatly as well.

"Alright." He snarled quietly still quite weary of you as you dumped the clay onto the table and started molding it into the shape of legs and hips.

    Once you were satisfied with the basic shape and proportion you instructed him to let go of the energy he was using to keep the scrap under him together. You left for a moment to find a large robe for him. When you returned to your makeshift work station you found him lying on his back, torso touching the clay and staring up at the midday sky. Wispy clouds decorated the bright blue, it was hard on his eyes now accustomed to darkness so he was squinting against it. You frowned at his wince and force pulled an umbrella that sat on your porch over to you, setting it up so it shielded the light but not the view. He looked at you in bewilderment at this small unnecessary kindness to him. You placed the robe down on the stump to your side silently and held your hands one above his body and the other above the clay.

You looked to him for a final approval, "this is probably gonna hurt just so you know." You warned.

He dug his claws into the wood table bracing himself and gave you a final nod.

    He wasn't prepared for what came next. You had closed your eyes and placed one of your hands on his chest, the other on the clay. Your cool touch cut through him like a knife and his hearts started racing. He couldn't remember ever being touched in a way that didn’t draw blood. His hearts pounded against your hand. You moved your hand down, tracing his body lightly until he no longer felt your touch. He fell into the bliss of contact when your hands left the clay and returned to his body. You were running your hands across his body, down to the clay and back up again, envisioning him whole. Urging the force to make him one again. You projected feeling of calm, peace and gentleness through the force unto him as you worked.

    His chest vibrated against his will, creating a purr that rumbled quietly every time you traced him but the purr turned to a growl that turned into screaming as his body seared. It felt like a fire burned violently where he had been severed and the flames licked at the rest of his skin. He left deep rivets in the wood beneath him in an attempt to hold still despite his instincts to run, he endured. As suddenly as the pain came, it left. He felt a breeze on his feet. He opened his eyes to find your back turned to him while holding out the grey robe. He didn't realize why you were turned away until he looked down. It wasn't a hallucination, he had feet, he had two legs that bore the same markings that he suddenly remembered he had. He was once again intact, including to his almost surprise he had his manhood back. He took the robe and quickly covered himself suddenly hyperaware that he lay naked in front of a woman.

"Are you decent?" You asked. You had averted your gaze so he could retain some semblance of dignity.

 "I am covered." Still distracted by the fact that it actually worked.

"Good." You replied turning around and studying your handiwork. His legs looked good; the tattoos lined up from what you could tell, lifting the robe slightly at his hips, keeping his groin covered. They were the same size same length and he wasn't in agony so the insides must be alright.

    You gripped his thighs which caused him to sit up quickly snarling at you. Without letting go, your eyes inches from his you practically whispered "I have to feel them to make sure your bone structure and joints are all in the right places. Let me know if you can't feel my touch at some point or if my touch hurts."

    His top lip curled in reluctance but he nodded. You firmly yet gently massaged his thighs moving up to his hips and down to his knees. You lifted each knee slightly making sure they bent the right way then continuing down his calves to his ankles. They rolled as they should. You spent a few minutes on each foot making sure all those little pieces were screwed in right so to speak. It took everything in his being to keep his eyes open.

"Could you feel me the whole time?"

"Yes." He whimpered slightly.

"Good. Now try to wiggle your toes. Yes, good just like that. Now bend your knees for me; wonderful. Lift your legs a little one at a time. Just try to get your heels a few inches off the table. Perfect. Can you spread and close your legs for me? Just a bit so I know those joints work well too. Magnificent." He grunted with effort but passed all your little tests.

You clapped your hands together. "Good! Wow, I've only ever done single limbs on wounded animals before, this was a job." His eyes widened in horror.

"You didn't know if this was going to work?!"

"Nope! First time for everything but hey it was a success so don't get yourself all worked up." Your hands were on your hips. "Now they won't be able to bear your full weight for a while so take it easy, I'll help you around but now..." you pulled out a large wood file. "I'm gonna take care of those claws and those horns. They are truly atrocious."

    The next three hours you spent carefully shaping his horns to a much more manageable length and rounding them just enough so they wouldn't slice on contact. His claws on the other hand now resembled human finger nails. He sat on the stump while you fussed over him while he ate a whole serving bowl of various fruits from your garden and dried meats. Every time you touched the base of one of his horns his eyes twitched in bliss and rolled to the back of his head.

     When you finished you set the file down and once again studied your craftsmanship. His face flushed with your eyes and mouth so close to him again, starting to realize now that his body was in one piece he had hormones to regulate. Satisfied with what you had done you handed him a makeshift crutch and wrapped your arm around his waist and his free arm over your shoulder.

    For the first time, you led him into your home slowly. He couldn't believe how good grass then carpet felt under his feet and he actually smiled. You made your way to the refresher where a large bath sat prefilled with hot water. You dropped a large sandalwood scented bath bomb into the waters. He watched mesmerized as it fizzled and placed a hand in the water out of curiosity. After verifying that the temperature was good you closed your eyes and helped him slide into the tub only opening when you could sense that he was submerged up to his chest.

“These wonderful little bath bombs have salts and oils that will help heal your smaller cuts and scrapes on the rest of your body as well as clean you.”

    You watched his eyes roll to the back of head and close, a low groan escaping his lips as he enjoyed the water and rubbed his legs together. You smiled at him; it truly did bring you joy to help this poor lost soul. Although he was still rather gaunt and his eyes still blown out with possible insanity, he had quite handsome features. You shook your head to drive the thought away from your mind and without a word you left the room, leaving him to soak in the steamy waters, not before calling over your shoulder, “I will be back with some clean clothes for you soon. Shout if you need anything.”

 ~~~~~

      The water on his skin was glorious. The heat on his body, the smell of the sandalwood and the steam he breathed overloaded his senses and put him in a state of euphoria. He reached up and felt his freshly groomed horns, enjoying the fact that he could touch them without cutting himself. He felt tears welling up in his eyes that he wouldn’t let fall at the thought of everything this woman had done to him, for him today. He had completely forgotten the fear he felt just this morning when he saw her for the first time. Her figure against the grasslands, strong and filled with a purposeful resolve that was also soothing. Eyes simply electric. Her hair, wild with the breeze. He felt something flutter in his stomach and he put the image of her out of his mind to stave it off.

    What did he do to deserve such kindness, such a sweet saving grace in his bleak existence? Nothing he was sure. As he relaxed, more of his memories came back to him as if he never forgot them. His fists clenched as he remembered how he got to this sorry state to begin with and a name rumbled out of his chapped lips almost silently. "Kenobi."

    Before he could fall into his rage, he heard a tapping on the door just before his savior reentered carrying black pants and a black tunic. A sweet and spicy smell wafted into the room and his mouth watered.

"I got a weird feeling when I passed these in the market on one of the populated planets I frequent on my last run so I bought them. Now I know why I got that feeling." His hearts pounded in his chest as she kneeled on the floor behind his head after setting them down on the counter. Using a glass, she scooped up water from the bath and ran it over the top of his head, following with massaging soap and scented oils into his scalp and around the base of his horns. Loosing himself completely he let out a moan. He couldn't see it but she smiled again behind him with a single raised brow.

 ~~~~~

      Once you had rinsed him off you closed your eyes once again and helped him out, allowing him to dry himself and dress while using you as a support until he gave you the all clear that you could open them again. Weary of his shaky legs you led him down a hallway, passing a few doors and back into the great room where a single couch sat facing an array of well stocked bookshelves. The only electronic in sight was a single radio on one of the shelves quietly playing lo-fi. A small table and chairs sat just beyond the couch in view of both the kitchen and the front door.

    After helping him take a seat you dished the two of you large bowls of the meat stew and a pitcher of water for the table. He ate and drank the broth down to the last drop before you had halfway finished. Getting up to serve him a second helping he stuttered "you don’t.. have to do that."

"Please." You retorted casually. "I will be stuffing you full until you're well again. You may have your legs back but you’re underweight for your species and size. You’ll need lots of calories to back to ‘fighting weight’." He ate much more slowly this time until he gathered the courage to speak again.

"I never asked you your name. I think... no, I know. I am called Maul." His eyes never left you as he waited for your reply.

"Well my name is Y/N. I am glad your ship landed here Maul."

"I am very thankful for that as well.. um.. Thank you. For everything."

    The two of you finished your meal in a comfortable silence. Humming occasionally at the savory and rich stew. He had asked to retire after dinner so you aided him to your spare bedroom. It was small only having a single sized bed, a night stand and yet another bookshelf properly filled with writings that he could reach from the bed if he wanted to. After rummaging around some drawers, you found a pair of com links and asked him to use it should he need anything to which he agreed. You placed a hand on his forehead absent mindedly, wishing him a good night before sauntering off. Sleep came slowly to the Zabrack, staring out the window to the field. He could just barely see the goats and a few chickens in the yard but it was you who filled his mental images before sleep finally took him long after the sun had set.

[beewolfwrites]

And When I am Formulated, Sprawling on a Pin - Chapter Twenty-Four: And the Rest is Silence

And this is it: the final chapter! It’s been insane, but this is the only fanfiction I've ever finished before, and it wouldn’t have happened without all the support. Thank you so much!! I didn’t think anyone would read this, but seeing everyone’s reactions to each chapter has kept me going :D

I’m sorry for the essay, but I’m aware I didn’t post anything about this in the AIB tag. Yes, there will be a sequel!

I need to read the manga properly before writing it, so I don’t know when the sequel will start. But in the meantime, there’ll be a series of Chishiya one-shots of his perspective, and there’ll even be scenes that weren’t in this fic, plus an original game!

For the full fanfic, you can find it here on AO3. 

I’ll also be creating a master list, and I'll post the literature references after this for those who wanted them <3

Once again, thank you so much!! And I hope you enjoy this last chapter. 

------------------------------------------------

By the time Kuina found us again, it was already late afternoon, and even though our visas had extended by ten days after the Witch Hunt game, there was something about the setting of the sun that felt foreboding.

We lit up the furniture shop with candles and changed into the clean clothes we’d collected. Seeing Chishiya wearing ordinary clothes felt strange. Aside from when we’d crossed paths in the Tag game, the entire time I’d known him he’d been wearing swim shorts and flip flops.

Now, he emerged from the bathroom wearing grey sweatpants and a variegated blue cardigan that suited him perfectly. When his eyes flickered to mine, I realised I’d been staring, and distracted myself with preparing dinner instead. It wasn’t much, especially since all I had was canned goods and a camping stove, but the vegetable stew kept us warm while we curled up in our makeshift living room. As evening turned to night, however, it became obvious that something was missing.

There are no games.

Kuina chewed on her lip, looking out of the window. ‘What d’you think will happen when our visas run out?’

‘It probably has something to do with the Ten of Hearts,’ I told her. ‘Maybe there’s no need for games anymore, since we’ve got all the numbered cards.’

It didn’t bode well for us. If there were no games by the time our visas ran out, there was no chance of us getting out of the Borderlands. At least not alive.

As the night wore on, Kuina was the first to go upstairs. Covering her yawn with her hand, she waved goodnight and winked at me. I tried not to blush. Not that it made a difference, anyway. Chishiya was busying himself over a scrap of paper, and barely reacted when I smushed up by his side.

I frowned at the paper in his hand. ‘Isn’t that...’

‘Ah.’ He held it out so I could see it. ‘I took it from the tagger’s pocket.’ It was a drawing of a circle with squiggly lines, clearly a rushed sketch of something. In the middle of a line, the pen had stabbed a hole straight through.

‘What is it?’

‘Well, I have an idea,’ he said, but never elaborated.

Fighting the onset of sleep, I leaned my head against his shoulder, paying no mind to the way he tensed beneath me. The fabric of his cardigan was soft as down and made for a perfect pillow. ‘Aren’t you going to tell me?’

‘And if I don’t want to?’

I pushed my face into the fabric, pretending to settle in for the night. ‘Then I’ll just stay here and annoy you until your visa runs out.’

‘I have a feeling that won’t happen any time soon,’ he said, looking out the window.

And that was when I noticed it too. Midnight had passed by only a few minutes ago, yet there were no lasers. Did that mean the Borderlands were at a standstill? Were we stuck here permanently now? I wasn’t aware of how silent I had become, lost in my own thoughts, until Chishiya spoke up.

‘I believe it’s a map.’

My eyes slid to the drawing again. ‘And that hole in the paper, do you think that’s where the others are? The dealers, I mean.’

He shifted uncomfortably and I sat upright, conscious that I might have been unintentionally hurting or bothering him. Looking at the map properly, the lines could represent different interlocking pathways. If the marked place was a hideout of some kind, it couldn’t be in the open streets; there was too big a risk that a player might stumble upon it by accident.

So where...?

As soon as the idea came to mind, the words slipped out of my mouth. ‘The subway....’

He hummed in agreement. ‘I went to the nearest subway station this morning to check it against the real map. It’s a loose fit, but it works.’

I thought back to the second tagger – the crying woman – and how she’d been forced to participate in the game, donning an explosive collar. ‘Maybe if we find the place, we’ll get some answers.’

‘Probably,’ he said. ‘But I’m curious to see if anything changes within the next few days.’

‘Do you think we’ll hear something soon?’ I asked, yawning into my hand.

‘I believe we will.’ He gave me that same half-smile I had grown so used to. ‘But right now, I think you should go to sleep.’

Chishiya didn’t complain when I crawled into his bed. Like the night before, he kept his distance, but I could’ve sworn at times, when my sleeping became lighter throughout the night, I could feel fingers lightly touching my hair, only to pull back the moment I stirred. Over the next few days, it became the norm, and every night I would curl up on my side of the bed, slipping into calm dreams under the blue light of the window.

---------------------------------------------------

Despite the sunshine washing over the grey of the city, the stairs leading into Minami-Aoyama station descended into darkness. We’d checked and double-checked the drawing against the official subway map several times, but the idea of entering an abandoned station to uncover who knows what wasn’t inviting.

‘Are you sure this is it?’ Kuina asked for the third time.

I looked at the route map hanging over the station entrance, my eyes tracing the shape of the lines. ‘Positive.’

Folding her arms, Kuina went first. I waited for Chishiya to take a small torch from his pocket before following behind. The station was truly submerged in blackness, and if not for Chishiya’s torch, we would have easily become lost. He shone the beam at the paper in his hand, then held it up against each train line.

‘This way,’ he said, and walked towards the edge of the platform.

We hopped down onto the gravel below, using the metal tracks to guide us further into the tunnels. It was disconcerting to see the subway so empty, but with Kuina and Chishiya here, I felt safe somehow.

Several minutes in, Chishiya stopped abruptly, and I almost walked into him. If he reacted at all, I couldn’t see to tell. But he seemed more focused on something else, as he pointed the torch at a door that had been busted open.

‘That must be it.’ Kuina’s voice echoed.  

Without hesitation, Chishiya disappeared through the door, leaving Kuina and I in the darkness.

Chishiya?!

I panicked, arms waving as I tried to find something to hold onto. I heard Kuina hiss as we stumbled into each other and bumped elbows. Feeling around for the door frame, we managed to make our way inside, where Chishiya held his torch at us from further away.

‘Hey!’ Kuina snapped. ‘Don’t do that again! You’re the only one with a light here.’

‘Walk faster then,’ he said, waiting impatiently as we jogged over.

He shone the beam in the opposite direction, where it bounced off something. It was still too dark to tell just what, but as we walked forwards, everything became clearer. A structure lay ahead, with tunnels and walkways all leading into a giant room. Overhead, wires were strung across the ceiling, all feeding into the same place. We entered through one of the tunnels, and my heart jumped.

Televisions. They stared, black and empty, in rows and columns up the walls. But what was even more surprising was the setup right in front of us. It was an office, with papers, pen pots and coffee-stained mugs strewn about on desks. It would have looked like any other workplace, if not for the bodies draped in chairs and across the floor.

‘What... is this?’ I crouched to inspect the body of a man in a suit. Judging from its state, he had only died recently, but more importantly, there was a singed hole running through his head. He had been killed by a laser. ‘They’re not the ones in charge of the games.’

Chishiya closely inspected a desk. ‘Evidently not,’ he said, picking up a folded piece of paper and passing it to me. It was filled with numbers, some ticked off. Whoever it had belonged to was keeping track of their visa.

They’re playing games too, I thought. Or at least, they were.

‘So, these guys were the dealers.’ Kuina gingerly held up a sheet of paper with scribbles all over it. Upon closer inspection, they appeared to be odds. ‘They were betting on us,’ she said.  

A shiver ran along my skin. Of course, they had been watching us this whole time, that was expected. But to place bets on our survival was a whole other story. If the dealers were playing too, there must’ve been a separate system for them to extend their days. Perhaps how many people survived each game had some kind of impact on their visas.

A finger lightly brushed the back of my arm and Chishiya appeared beside me. ‘Momoka’s friend,’ I said, ‘she died right after she told everyone she was a dealer. And the taggers died because we won. I have a feeling their visas depended on whether or not we cleared each game... or maybe how many people didn’t make it.’

From his expression, I knew he had been thinking the same thing. ‘It doesn’t explain why they’re all dead now.’

I glanced around at the stiffened bodies slumped around us. ‘Actually, I have a bad feeling about that too.’

At that moment, a tap of footsteps echoed from the entrance. Chishiya instantly turned off his torch and tugged me into one of the tunnels. Kuina joined us and we hid, waiting. The footsteps grew louder, closer, and two torchlights waved through the darkness. I kept my eyes trained on the tunnel opposite as the footsteps paused.

‘Where is this place?’  

‘Who knows?’

With a sigh, I relaxed instantly.

Those two.

It had only been a few days since I had made peace with Arisu and Usagi, but I was glad to see them again. Arisu was cleaned up, his wounds well on the way to healing, while Usagi stared in amazement at the television screens around us.

Chishiya grazed past me as he moved out from under the shadows. ‘You actually found this place,’ he said. ‘As expected from someone I have high hopes for.’  

‘We meet again,’ Kuina said, walking around the desks to lean against the wall.

Arisu and Usagi’s eyes scanned the two of them before stopping at me. They looked visibly confused, probably wondering what I was doing with them after I’d told them I wasn’t involved in Chishiya’s setup. In an attempt at diffusing the awkwardness, I smiled and waved.

‘You guys,’ Usagi whispered. Her voice bordered on distrust, not that anyone could blame her.

I couldn’t tell whether Chishiya was trying to make things better or worse when he held up the full deck of cards and smiled. ‘Thanks to you guys, I have all the playing cards with me,’ he said. ‘Thank you.’

Arisu only looked at him cynically. ‘How did you discover this place?’

Chishiya rooted in his pocket and pulled out the drawing. ‘It took me some time to realise this is actually a map. The route map of the subway.’ He sauntered around the desks. ‘As for what happens when we collect the cards... I thought I would know the answer if I came here.’ His eyes jumped to mine. ‘But there’s something else we discovered instead.’

‘They’re not the gamemasters,’ Arisu said, eyes fixed on the bodies around us.

I stepped over a hand strewn across the floor. ‘カードを集めたので、殺された.’ Because we collected the cards, they were all killed. I struggled for a moment, trying to think of the right words. ‘There must be someone above them.’

Chishiya translated, and Usagi turned to me with worry. ‘But who?’

‘Who knows?’ Chishiya shrugged. ‘They might be aliens... or even God.’

The idea didn’t sound as strange as it should have done. We were in a world where lasers appeared from the sky, and death games were the norm. Even when I first arrived here, I’d wondered whether this was a form of judgement. Nothing was out of the question anymore.

Suddenly, the screens burst into life and white light flooded the room. I jumped, flocking to Chishiya and Kuina’s side.

Have we been caught?

Music reverberated all around us, and the screens displayed all four card suits, along with a message I couldn’t read. It didn’t matter though, as the voice that rang through the speakers was one I remembered well. My stomach dropped.

‘Congratulations to all players!’

The screens blurred until Mira’s wild eyes and subdued smile came into focus. It was now obvious why the Ten of Hearts had taken place at the Beach at the very moment things had fallen apart.

She must’ve been feeding information back, I thought. But back to where?

‘How interesting,’ Chishiya said. Seeking stability, I slipped a hand into his pocket. There was a slight hesitation before his fingers laced around mine.

Mira’s voice shook with a quiet excitement. ‘With the exception of the face cards, you’ve all cleared the numbered games and emerged as victors. It’s a sweet victory, gained by sacrificing so many lives.’ Her expression turned wistful as she stood. ‘I wonder, how many of your comrades have died. Try remembering those who were shot dead with guns.’

A single screen switched to show footage from a miscellaneous game. A group were stood, clutching their guns as they inspected the scatter of bodies across the ground.

They’ve been recording us.

‘And that girl you burned alive.’

A second display opened up, revealing several players watching on as a girl, engulfed in flames, struggled and clawed at her skin and clothes. I held my breath, Niragi’s animalistic cries ringing through my memory.

‘Those struck by lasers, and those that drowned.’

My eyes widened, and I gripped Chishiya’s hand as the inside of the furniture store appeared on-screen. The fractured image of myself flinched, quivering with shock, as the first man and Green Shirt leapt from their seats, only to crumple to the ground, lasers piercing them where they stood.

Chishiya’s fingers squeezed mine, and I gasped, blinking away the image. He must’ve seen it too.

‘Those who’s heads were blown off,’ Mira continued, dreamily. ‘Those comrades of yours, the despair you’ve felt so far, and those dying moments you’ll never forget.’

The screen changed once more, and from the corner of my eye, Arisu winced. Following his gaze, I recognized his partner from the Tag game, his neck exploding around a collar.

I’m so sorry....

Meanwhile, Mira’s expression shifted into pure, childlike delight. ‘Everyone... I’m so touched!’ She held her hand over her heart. ‘All of you players, we’d like to give you a present.’

We?

Chishiya tensed slightly. He had noticed it too. If Mira wasn’t the only gamemaster, just who were the others?

Although Mira couldn’t hear us, Kuina mumbled, ‘Are you returning us to the real world?’

It seemed too good to be true, and sure enough, it was. Mira clapped her hands together excitedly. ‘There will be new games! Let’s play more games together and fight for the face cards this time!’

Aside from Chishiya, everyone sank with disappointment and fear. Just how much more would we have to deal with before we could go home? If we were competing for the face cards, did that mean there were only twelve more games in total, or would there be repeat cards like there were for the numbered ones?

Kuina groaned. ‘New games? You’re kidding.’

‘I don’t dislike the idea,’ Chishiya murmured.

I looked at him, curious. ‘What do you mean?’

His expression was guarded, but before he could reply, Mira’s voice cut in again. ‘The next stage will commence tomorrow at noon. Everyone, let’s have fun together!’

All at once, the screens shut down, leaving us all in the darkness once more. Everything was quiet as we came to terms with what had just happened. It was Arisu who first suggested that we get out of here. Him and Usagi disappeared back through the tunnel, and with one glance at Chishiya and I, Kuina followed.

My fingers were still interlaced with his, hidden within the warmth of his pocket. He was watching me, waiting.

‘These games,’ I said. ‘They’re going to be harder than the others.’

He was silent for a moment. ‘Probably.’

‘About what you said before...’ I began. ‘Do you remember that time on the rooftop of the Beach, when I asked you if you were okay, and you told me it shouldn’t matter to me.’

I could see him thinking back. ‘I remember.’

‘What I said then still stands. You might not care about your own life, and I can’t stop you from taking part in these new games.’ I bit my lip, unable to face him as my eyes began tearing up. ‘Perhaps this is selfish of me, but you need to survive. And if you can’t do it for yourself, then....’

He sighed. ‘You cry too much.’ When I looked up, his lips were curled into that same, familiar smile, only this time, there was nothing cruel or condescending there. ‘We should find the others.’

Wiping my eyes with the edge of my sleeve, I finally let go of his hand, following him back out and through the tunnels. As we climbed the steps of the station, emerging into daylight, a series of loud bangs resounded throughout the city. The others were peering up at the skyscrapers towering over us, and the fireworks that burst like flowers against the sunlight.

‘Let’s make a new deal,’ Chishiya said, idly watching the display. ‘I’ll survive, if you return the favour.’

I looked to him, admiring the way his hair shifted in the breeze, and how the reflection of the fireworks danced in his dark eyes.

Let’s go home together.

‘It’s a deal.’

[blueluneacy]

Black Ocean

I wrote another Labyrinth AU piece, this time with Bruno. Bc I can. I have an idea for literally every fucking character in this Au so rip y’all who don’t like it

Word count: 2.7k

Warnings: razors, blood, deception, ocean, implied drowning??

It was a lot easier when you weren’t traveling alone. You felt yourself smiling a lot more, happier more of the time. Your travels didn’t feel like a chore, and there was someone to watch your back, finally. Of course, it wasn’t always like that.

When you first met Bruno, you had bumped into him while traveling through a large desert-like portion of the maze, ready to drop dead of thirst and exhaustion. Bruno found you and hauled you out of that wretched place, and although the two of you were suspicious of each other, the idea that the other was not a beast in disguise still not completely at bay, you agreed that if the two of you were ever to meet again in this terrible place, you would exchange the knowledge you had learned while you were apart. It seemed amicable, at least.

It must’ve been weeks before the two of you found yourselves in the same place again, this time bumping into each other while lost in the Great Dio’s Maze of Roses, a terrible place where the awful beast would entrap people in a maze full of thrones Rose bushes, taller than any wall constructed by man, only to wait for them to collapse from exhaustion and allow him to drain their bodies of all blood. Some even said that he could suck out their very soul, ending the cycle of deaths and resetting. The two of you made a deal to help each other evade the terrible Beast, hoping that if there were two of you, you could work as the other’s support from falling into despair. The two of you only barely scraped past, Bruno getting the idea to set some of the brush on fire in order to escape, letting Dio get lost in the smoke. For a moment, you actually had lost Bruno in the smoke too, leaving the Rose Labyrinth by yourself, and you had a twinge of fear. It wasn’t as if you cared about Bruno, but you didn’t wish the fate of being Dio’s snack upon anyone. When you heard his coughing, you felt yourself sigh in relief, going over to him as he leaned on you for support.

“Bastard… Sorry, you know how Beasts like to talk. He was willing to drown in the smoke just if it meant that I would drown with him.”

And since then, both of you quite convinced that the other wasn’t a beast in disguise, there was a mutual pact to travel together. It wasn’t spoken at first, simply the idea that both of you “happened to be heading this way.” But after a few days of stubbornness on your part, and kind gestures on Bruno’s, you relented and agreed the two of you would become partners in your journey to the exit.

And then, you got to know Bruno, got to actually know him as a person and not another face on your journeys. You had to admit, he was a handsome man, tall and muscular, with black hair he tied back to feel from falling into his face.

“I was a fisherman before all this. I’d like to get back, I’m sure that there are people waiting for me back home.” He would tell you as the two of you sat around a fire, hoping that the gray would get just a bit darker so it would be easier to sleep. “I’m sort of missing the ocean at this point.”

Bruno was an open, honest person. He would tell you exactly how he felt, listening to you ready to squabble about what direction the two of you were to take, only to give you a calm reply, telling what he thought. He was always able to convince you, and you sort of hated that about him. Bruno really was a born leader, but you were stubborn. He would relent a few times, when he thought it wasn’t important, like what the two of you should have for dinner or the type of tinder for the fire. It wasn’t until the incident with the Blood Beast that you started to realize that you might be in too deep with your feelings about Bruno.

He had saved you. You had gotten upset with the man and rushed head first into a beast’s maze, not realizing you were heading right into his den before your limbs started to freeze up, before you started to cough up metal scrap mixed with blood.

“Foolish little human, running straight into my maw…” You heard the terrible thing growl, and god, you thought this was it. This was the end, and it was going to be a painful one. But right as you were about to give up, to give in and hope that you would awaken at the beginning quickly, Bruno was able to throw some rocks to distract the beast, before grabbing you and starting to drag you off. Of course, it only took moments for the Blood Beast to realize what had happened, but apparently in the time where you were left coughing up razors, Bruno had used his knot tying skills to work and left a snare for the beast, grinning as he heard the pained yelp as the Beast ended up trapped upside down. Bruno easily scooped you up into his arms, running off with you and back out into the open wilds of the Labyrinth.

“What were you doing, rushing into there like that?! You could’ve gotten yourself killed!” Bruno fussed as he laid you down, moving to grab the meager first aid supplies the two of you had in one of your packs.

“I would’ve come back… It’s fine, you put yourself in danger just to get me… That was pretty stupid of you, to be honest…” You tried to reason, just shrugging yourself off. You were right. You would’ve been fine in the end, your death would have been one of many you’ve experienced at this point, but Bruno just gripped your hand.

“Don’t say that. If you died, we probably would never see each other again. And I honestly don’t think I could bear that, Tesoro.” Bruno’s voice was low, genuine, and you couldn’t help but gasp. In all your stupidity and stubbornness, Bruno was always there for you, always helping you when you fell down, that you couldn’t help but tear up.

“I… I’m sorry, I didn’t mean…” You couldn’t get another word out, your tears becoming too heavy and you buried your face into Bruno’s chest. He paused for a moment, unsure of what to do, before finally wrapping his arms around you.

“It’s alright, I’ve got you (Y/N).... You’re okay now, he won’t be able to reach us out here….” Bruno’s voice was soothing and warm, something you could attach to, keep close with. He was real, not like this constantly changing Labyrinth the two of you were trapped in. Your worst fear was being realized, finally. You were in love with Bruno, with a man you had met in the middle of hell.

“Let’s rest here for the evening. You need to rest.” Bruno told you, pulling you off him to set up camp. You whimpered, looking over him with wide eyes.

“But… We haven’t made any progress today, I don’t want to be the reason we’re being held back…” You mumbled, only for Bruno just to sigh, giving you a sad smile.

“I don’t care about that. You need to rest, and that’s all that matters.” He told you. You nodded, your heart warming up as you laid back down, shocked and pleased at being taken care of. Of having someone else to rely on, to not have to constantly be afraid for your life. That night, you slept in Bruno’s arms. It was the best sleep you’ve ever had in this hell.

Your travels became a lot happier after that. You became a lot more pleasant to travel with on your end, and you were honestly the happiest you had ever been on this journey. In turn, you also became a lot bolder, willing to take more risks if it meant moving forward, much to Bruno’s distress. When the two of you reached a shore of what appeared to be an endless ocean, you just smiled and looked around until you found a broken down sailboat.

“Oh, we could totally fix this and get through the sea! Come on, help me take a closer look!” You called, running over to the small vessel and finding only a few small holes and the two of you could easily patch up.

“I don’t know… We don’t know what kind beast’s lair we’re walking into out there. Plus, I’ve never even heard of an ocean in the Labyrinth.” Bruno pointed out, but you just smiled.

“Which could mean that we’re looking at the exit right here. I mean, come on, I really have the instinct that we’re getting close to something big! Besides, I’ve read Moby Dick. I know how to deal with sea monsters.” You grinned. Bruno just sighed.

“I don’t know…” He looked out at the ocean, but you just leaned against him, entwining your fingers with his.

“Come on. You’re the best sailor I know, I know if we’re together, we can do anything.” You told him. He just rolled his eyes, but you knew that Bruno was smiling.

“I’m the only sailor you know.”

“Making you the best! Come on, how about this? You work on the boat, and I’ll collect food and try to make a harpoon in case we do actually meet a sea monster. If we think the preparations are good by tomorrow morning, we go, if not, we’ll find another path. Deal?” You told him. Finally, Bruno sighed and leaned in to press a kiss against your cheek.

“You always know how to wear me down into saying yes, don’t you?” He teased. You just grinned.

“It’s a gift! Now come on, I want to find a good stick for my harpoon.” You told him, pulling away to go hunting for that sweet stick. Bruno just laughed and got to work.

The two of you worked into the night, but as the time grew near, it seemed like the two of you were finally ready. He had repaired the canvas sails using thread from old clothing he had found, fashioned driftwood into oars, the whole works. You grinned as you saw it, your bag loaded up with food and your stick nice and sharp. You’re doing great.

“Alright, look at us. A couple of sailors, about to take the ocean!” You grinned, pulling your shoes off and throwing them onto the boat so as to not get them wet.

“Why am I already regretting this?” Bruno sighed, though he was smiling at how excited you were. He helped you push off the boat, the two of you climbing in without much trouble.

And it really was smooth sailing. Bruno commented on how favorable the wind was, showing you exactly how to steer and position the sails, before fixing it into position and letting you watch as you saw fish swim under your small boat, watching the land behind you disappear into nothingness. The two of you were really in the middle of nowhere. In a sense, it was wonderful, to see nothing but the ocean around the two of you, watching the ocean beneath you allow your passage, shifting from blues to purples. Another mystery of the Labyrinth you would never be able to explain. It was a long journey, but Bruno was eventually able to set it to move forward, only getting up to adjust if the wind where to change, which wasn’t often. The two of you simply sat and watched the endless sea. You could really get lost out here. In a way, you did.

It wasn’t until the two of you spotted a small island that you perked up, grinning.

“Bruno! Bruno, look! Isn’t it amazing? It’s not an exit, but we might be able to find something there!” You told him, getting up and moving to adjust the sails to try and land, but Bruno grabbed your wrist, pulling you back.

“Let me handle it, landing without damaging the boat is a heavy task. Mark the island on the map, it might be important.” He told you, and you immediately relaxed, turning to look through your bags for the map. You trusted Bruno entirely. After all, he would never hurt you. He would never lie to you. If only you weren’t so trusting that you didn’t look up to see the tentacles surrounding the boat.

“Tesoro, I’m so sorry I had to do things like this.” You turned to ask what on earth he meant, before Bruno lunged at you, wrestling you down onto the wooden floor of the boat. You screamed out, squirming and trying to struggle. Bruno has never been this strong, his nails never this sharp, his eyes never this wild. When you looked into them, a fear you never even had was realized, Bruno’s eyes reflecting the ever changing colors of the ocean in a way that only one creature’s could. A Beast.

“No, no! Let me go, this isn’t real! What did you do to Bruno?!” You cried out, trying to squirm out of the terrible grasp of this beast in Bruno’s place.

“Please, calm down Tesoro. It’s me, it’s always been me. I’m so sorry I had to lie to you like this, I never meant to hurt you. Please, you’re breaking my heart.” He crooned, and at one point, that might’ve been enough to calm you. But you knew those words were meant to twist you up, meant to calm you, even though you had the instinct that they were true.

“Breaking your heart?! You lied to me, made me believe you were a human being, all to eat me! You’re not just a beast, you’re a monster! I hate you, I really do hate you!” You screamed, only for Bruno to growl, his claws digging into your wrists.

“You don’t hate me. I know you love me. I know it.” Bruno’s voice was scaring you, his teeth growing sharper by the minute. His grip loosened when you finally whimpered out in pain, blood being drawn at your wrists. He took a deep breath, attempting to explain himself. “I didn’t lie, I was human when you first met me, honest to god. I changed in the Rose garden. That encounter with the beast was enough to turn me into one, it seemed. At first, I didn’t know what I would do. I was in despair over losing my humanity, over losing my chance to leave this place. But…” Bruno reached a hand to run along your cheek, wiping a tear you didn’t know you shed.

“You kept my soul human. You’re my salvation, (Y/N). When the Blood Beast almost had you, I realized that I could never let go. When we reached the ocean, I realized that this was meant to be my territory. That once I entered into it, I would never be able to escape it. But… You’ll be here with me. You’ll be here, with me, forever!” Bruno’s smile was terrifying, leaving you just to gulp. He was a beast, alright, and one of the most terrifying you had ever met.

“B-Bruno… I love you, I really do, but you have to let me go… I have to escape here. I can’t spend the rest of my life in this Labyrinth.” You told him, but Bruno only smiled and shook his head.

“Oh, Tesoro. Now that I have you, I’ll never let you go. I love you. If you’re here, I’ll be able to survive an eternity in this ocean. It’ll be a paradise of our own making.” Bruno declared. The tentacles that came from under the ship started to tear it apart, leaving wood chips in its wake as Bruno pulled you under the water, pressing his lips against yours. There was nothing you could do to resist as the two of you began to sink into the icy depths. The last thing you saw before you fell into another slumber was Bruno’s eyes, ever changing and always adoring.

They were as black as the depths he pulled you into.

[cottoncandyreaper]

((More undertale story time that I did edit!))

"What are you doing down here? The underground has been vacant for a long time now...how did you, just show up?"

His hands were shaky as they ran over his face just for more questions to flutter into the line that was already forming in my mind. There was no way he could have just showed up out of thin air; was he in hiding? Was there someone that wanted to hurt him so he never showed up? Or was he an wanted criminal!? The possibilities were endless now and that made this even more of a scary predicament.

"I don't...remember much...I remember falling and pain...then blackness. My memories are not wanting to piece anything together just yet...I remember falling into the lab in dust and boxes. The scrap metal was not a comfortable landing pad...and then, you four showed up. You comprehend wingdings?"

I could only nod my answer for him choosing to start the healing magic once again working on his legs to hopefully give them the ability to carry some of his own weight when we start to moving.

"Well you figured out that Sans is my Dad, he made sure I learned Wingdings first. I didn't start learning English till I was three or four I think...so, ☠✋👍☜ ❄⚐ 💣☜☜❄ ✡⚐🕆 ☝☼✌☠👎🏱✌"

((Nice to meet you grandpa))

I didn't know what to truly think yet of this whole situation with his memories not helping us much in figuring out where he was for all the missing years. And then there was Daddy and Uncle Pap that weren't sure either about their own dad...it for sure wasn't adding up but I'd have to figure out where to start for sure later.

"You're so quick to help yet you barely know me. That isn't the safest mind set to have child."

"Oh don't worry about that...because I know right now I have more magic then you and can most definitely run faster too..."

"Just an observation, to think...I had a granddaughter and a human one at that."

As the glow subsided with the fading words spoken I stood with the help of Nicole and dusted off.

"We gotta get you out of here now and that's gonna be the tricky part. The walk hasn't been bad but you're still not one hundred percent and we can't rush in case something else is wrong that I can't heal."

"Speaking with the intelligence of a adult I see, another aspect of your father."

"Guys can you help me get him up?"

Nicole and Kloey were unsure of what to make of the situation just like I was but nodded a yes while Macie was reluctant.

"Can't you just use your magic to get him up and walking?"

"Sure if I had more practice and could focus like that but I can't. To move someone and not something you have to use their soul; Daddy can do it no problem but if I do it there's always a chance I could mess up and hurt them. So no, we're doing this the normal way so please, help."

I could tell she really wanted to argue me and really not want to be involved but Kloey was having none of it as she took her hand pulling her behind Grandpa while Nicole and I took a hand each grasping as tight as possible being careful of the holes. Would his hands break apart if we pulled from there?

"Okay; one, two, three!"

A pull here and a push there with some adjustments from behind as he stood to the same six foot statue of Uncle Pap he was officially standing and keeping balance even if I had to be the cane that assisted.

"How do you feel?"

"🕈☜✌😐📪 👌🕆❄ ✋💣 🕆🏱📬 ❄☟✌☠😐 ✡⚐🕆"

((Weak, but I'm up. Thank you))

"⚐✡🕆☼☜ 🕈☜☹👍⚐💣☜"

((You're welcome))

Looking over at the girls getting mixed signals from their features I readied myself for...well for Macie if she started complaining.

"Alright guys, back to the surface we go."

"You owe us a proper trip Font, remember that."

Macie wasn't a threat, she couldn't be but the ache of fear in my soul if the whole school found out about my magic, I wouldn't be able to handle that kind of chaos.

"Macie come on, we don't need to worry about that right now. Let's get out of here."

Kloey being the voice of reason as she grabbed her hand and started back leading the way now since I lingered in the back with my newly found Grandpa with Nicole as well for added support.

"Thanks Nicole."

"No problem."

The thought crossed my mind that I hoped Nicole would be one of my best friends throughout the school years, especially high school. She would make things alot more manageable havijg her around. Grandpa gave a small chuckle above as his hands grasped our shoulders tight securing himself more.

"Your soul explains your open mindness, green souls are open to all thanks to their kindness and willingness to learn."

"Green soul?"

Oops, one of the things I hadn't talked about yet; Kloey seemed to slow down as well to hear about the soul stuff that peaked her interest quickly.

"Human souls are different then monster souls since they take on the color of their owners dominate trait. Nicole's is kindness, Kloey's is patience so it's cyan and Macie's is...justice...which is, um, yellow."

"Why do you say mine like that?"

She stopped to stare me down, arms crossed and leaned to the side like the priss she was. Do I tell her the truth with it being that I was actually shocked since she only thought of herself most of the time or lie? The later seemed easier then the first yet Grandpa had other thoughts...I could tell he wasn't her biggest fan already just like me.

"Because it seems like you uphold justice just as little as you uphold friendship."

I didn't look up at him but the look on Macie as fear and unease began to float around her gave me a idea of what kind of look she was given by him. Turning on her heel quickly she walked without a word to us, Kloey lingered back and mumbling quietly.

"I know you two don't get along well Winny but...I promise, she isn't as bad as she appears. She can be, nice. She just has a hard time showing it."

I only shook my head tired of the conversation actually wanting the walk to be silent.

"✋ 💧☜☜ ☟🕆💣✌☠💧 ☟✌✞☜ ☠⚐❄ 👍☟✌☠☝☜👎 ✌💧 💣🕆👍☟ ✌💧 ✋ ☟✌👎 ☟⚐🏱☜👎 ❄☟☜✡ 🕈⚐🕆☹👎"

((I see humans have not changed as much as I hoped they would))

"❄☟☜☼☜ ✌☼☜ 💣⚐☼☜ ☠✋👍☜ ☟🕆💣✌☠💧 ❄☟☜☠ 👌✌👎📬 ✋ 👍✌☠ 🏱☼⚐💣✋💧☜ ✡⚐🕆 ❄☟✌❄"

((There are more nice humans then bad. I can promise you that))

Throughout the backtrack talking was minimal too none at all. Stopping was a frequent ordeal so Grandpa could catch his breath, I tried healing magic as much as I could but even that was starting to wipe me out.

"You'll be on the floor before me at this rate. I'll be fine, save your magic or you'll collapse."

Nicole gave a soft pat to my back.

"Want to trade spots for a bit?"

No was my response but Grandpa removed his hand deciding for me.

"Lead the group, we've been going so slow. I'm sure we'll reach the surface much quicker."

Nicole didn't even wait for me to respond or move out of the way taking my spot practically pushing me to the front. Macie didn't say a word as I did while only getting a small smile from Kloey. It seemed like a blur after that: elevator, the walk to and through the palace and then...the surface opening with bright blue sky and a beautiful view of the town below as the sun sat high in the sky shining its bright light down.

"Welcome to the surface Grandpa."

Looking over my shoulder at him where he stood frozen still with his hand lingering on Nicole's shoulder just gazing out at all before him; trees rushing around with the wind and birds chirping mixed with the distant sound of cars filling in the gaps from the town below.

"✋❄💧📬📬📬✌💣✌☪✋☠☝"

((Its...amazing))

[banditthewriter]

Under Pressure - Bucky Barnes

Prompt: A request please! I’m a sucker for angst with a happy ending. Could I have Bucky Barnes x reader in which the reader hides a nasty injury from the team until she knows everybody is safe. Then she collapses and they think she’ll die, Bucky super sad and angsty, but she pulls through because my heart can’t take full angst. I hope that makes sense. Super massive thankyou if you decide to do it!! Xxx Prompter: @s-trawberryv-eins​​

Warning: Injury sustained in battle?

Tags are at the bottom. Let me know if you would like to be added to one of my tag lists!

*gif not mine*

Enjoy!

*****

“Brace yourselves,” you heard over comms before the building was rocked by another explosion. It sounded like Nat, but your ears were ringing so you could be wrong.

“North wing is demolished,” came the reply from probably-Sam. “How we looking on the south wing?”

How were you looking? You had blood dripping down your fingers and your head was only attached by sheer force of will it felt like. One or two guards lay dead or unconscious behind you, but they weren’t your focus. Your focus was on the thumb drive in your pocket.

“Still standing,” Cap replied with a heavy dose of sarcasm directed at whoever just leveled the north wing. “Y/N, did you get the files? We’ve got to hit the rendezvous point of Natasha might leave us.”

“I’d never leave you. You owe me twenty bucks for this outcome of this mission.”

You took a deep breath and activated your comm.

“Files are a go. Meet at the rendezvous in ten.”

You hoped it wouldn’t take more than ten minutes to get to the rendezvous point. You were in pain and bleeding, but you knew you had to succeed. This mission was critical and you had your part to play.

“Where is everyone else? Sound off.”

Each member of the team sounded off their location. Stark was providing cover for the team as they left the compound. Sam was about to head out to the rendezvous. Cap himself was halfway to the jet. Natasha and Clint were waiting for everyone to arrive. And Bucky was… apparently outside of the south wing, waiting for you.

“You look rough,” he said in a low voice, his comm off so that it didn’t echo over everyone else. “C’mon, sounds like Sam is injured pretty badly. And we still haven’t heard from Wanda so we’re not sure what her status is yet.”

You steeled yourself and tucked your hand into your pocket so that he wouldn’t see the massive blood loss. You could survive this without trouble. If Sam was injured badly and Wanda was missing, they needed to be the priorities. Obviously you were still moving under your own steam so you weren’t worried about yourself.

Mostly. The fact that your vision was blurred and your hearing was set in an echo made you think that maybe you should move yourself up a little higher on that list.

“I wasn’t sure you’d be able to do it,” Bucky said as the two of you darted out of the building and into the cover of the trees. “When Steve said you were the one getting the files. I thought it should be Tasha.”

Because you weren’t an assassin like they were. Because you didn’t have any special powers or cool suits or gadgets. You were a spy, good enough at your job that you joined the Avengers on missions, but apparently Bucky still didn’t think you were capable.

“I appreciate the confidence,” you said as you tried not to stumble over the terrain. “Check in with Cap and see if they’ve found Wanda or if they need us to look.”

You’d do it but honestly your vision was starting to go dark. You could see the jet in the distance and just tried as hard as you could to make it there without passing out.

“Says she’s back in one piece. Sam’s injuries aren’t that bad either. Mission was successful.”

You were grateful. Your hand went to your pocket and felt the ridge of the thumb drive. It was almost done, almost over. Once you were back at headquarters you could head to the medical wing and get fixed up. Maybe you’d have to be off missions for a while, but that’s okay. You could catch up on some of your paperwork that way.

“Did you hear me?”

You turned and looked at Bucky. He’d said something, but you didn’t catch it. Instead of waiting for you to respond, he continued to speak.

“We need to talk when we get back to the tower. There’s some things I’ve been meaning to talk to you about, but it was never the right time.”

He wanted to tell you that you shouldn’t be on missions. You weren’t an Avenger, you weren’t trained, you weren’t special. You didn’t need to hear the conversation to know what he’d have to say. Instead of answering, you merely kept up your trek to the jet.

Once there, he hit the button to open the stairs and let you go up first. Your hand clenched at your side as a wave of pain and dizziness went over you. But he followed you up, the door closed. And once you were both in the main part of the jet, you heard Natasha make a comment about taking off.

The take off always made you wobble so you used that as an excuse to hold on to the wall. In the middle of the jet was a table that was bolted to the floor. The others were already on their debrief so you ignored Bucky’s confused look and headed that way as well.

“And here we have our unsung hero. Thumb drive intact?”

You’d usually have a snarky comment for Stark, the two of you often dueled with wits, but you didn’t have it in you. You scanned the faces and did a mental count. Everyone was there, everyone was in one piece. Although your plan had been to wait until you got to headquarters, you finally accepted the fact that you weren’t going to make it there in one piece yourself.

With your bloodied hand, you pulled out the thumb drive and slapped it onto the table. It left a red handprint on the expensive screen, but no one cared about that. Every single one of the people around the table were immediately on you, asking if you were injured and how bad it was.

You didn’t have time to answer before your vision finally went black. The last thing you remembered was falling into someone’s arms, a cool metal hand wrapping around your arm as you drifted into unconsciousness.

------

“She lost a lot of blood,” the doctor explained to the team that huddled in the waiting room at the tower’s medical wing. “Her arm was almost torn off. And there was massive head trauma. We’ve repaired the arm but we’ll have to wait and see if the swelling will go down.”

Steve and Tony thanked the doctor and then immediately had to shield her when a loud crash made everyone on alert. The source of the noise came from a rather large dent in the concrete wall, a metal fist in the middle of it. Bucky faced the wall, his back solid and tense. Nat gave everyone a stern look and shooed the rest of the team from the room. 

Tony escorted the doctor with a promise that everything was going to be fine. All that left in the room was Steve and Bucky.

Steve had watched his friend stand sentinel at the door during the life saving surgery. He’d seen how careful Buck had been when she’d collapsed into his arms. He watched the flurry of emotions cross over his friend’s face as they waited for word of her survival.

He’d known for a while now how Bucky felt about Y/N. Hell, they all probably knew how he felt about her. All except her. And it was the same for her. It was obvious that she cared for the reformed assassin, but it was also obvious that she thought she wasn’t good enough.

Perhaps that wasn’t helped by the fact that Bucky had a habit of saying the wrong things around her. What would have been a funny situation had become dire when Steve realized that Bucky’s comments made it sound like Y/N wasn’t fit for the work she did.

She was right up there with Natasha at being good at her job. She was quick, clever, and just as deadly as the rest of the team. The only difference was that she did it all on her own, two hands and no back up. Natasha had been the same way, but she had the team now. Y/N operated on her own usually.

It was why Steve had started to pull her into missions more. He didn’t want her to do this alone. None of them needed to be alone anymore. The Avengers was about more than just superheroes. It was about ordinary people in extraordinary circumstances and overcoming them.

Tony Stark made it out of the middle of a desert with his mind and some scrap metal. Steve had let people perform a possibly dangerous experiment on him and came out on the other side. Bucky had gone to war and came back mangled, brainwashed, and damaged in ways no one else could understand. Sam had gone from a peaceful life right back into the fray with his wings and a belief that there had to be a reason for it all.

Steve walked over to where Bucky stood, his fist still in the hole he’d made of the cement wall.

“She’ll come through,” he promised as he put a cautious hand on his friend’s shoulder.

“I should have noticed she was hurt when I found her in the south wing. If I’d noticed–”

“Don’t do that Buck, don’t think about what ifs. This is where we are now. We gotta go from here.”

It was something Steve had learned the hard way.

He gave Bucky’s shoulder a comforting squeeze. The room behind them was like a beacon and Steve turned to look at it for a long moment. Then he left Bucky alone with his thoughts for the time being.

Only time would tell.

------

“Ow.”

Your eyes wouldn’t open despite how many times you demanded it. When you reached up to try to find out why, your arm seemed to scream in protest. Something cool was pressed against your hand and it took a moment to realize what it was.

A hand, a metal hand. Bucky.

“Bucky?”

“I’m here,” he said from above you. His hand wrapped around yours gently. “Try not to move too much. Your arm is still healing. If you move too much, your nerves won’t reattach.”

Reattach. Because you’d almost lost your arm. You briefly remembered hearing the doctor say that your arm had almost been ripped off. And you definitely remembered the pain from the injury. But it was still attached, still worked enough to feel his hand wrapped around yours.

Had he ever touched you before? Like this. You honestly couldn’t remember.

“I can’t see,” you said timidly, scared for the reply.

“It’s gauze. You have a bad concussion and the doctor doesn’t want you assaulted with the light.”

Oh thank god. You weren’t sure you could have handled any other option.

You tried to focus on your body, made easier by the lack of sight. Sore from your feet to your head, but nothing felt too bad. Even your arm only hurt a little when you moved a certain way. The pain in your head was from the concussion but that would go away in time. 

That just left the pain and shame from the mission.

“I know I messed up,” you said in a voice thick with emotion. “I should have told someone immediately that I was injured but I wanted to make sure none of the actual team was hurt first. I shouldn’t have kept it quiet. I should’ve–”

Flesh fingers were pressed to your mouth to stem the flow of your words. You inhaled deeply and tried not to shake at the touch.

“You gotta stop thinking that you’re not part of this team. You’re one of us, an Avenger, and we take care of each other.”

Thankfully the gauze was there to soak up your tears. It wasn’t just that he was saying the words you’d longed to hear, but there was something else in his voice. Something that you had heard in all the things he’d said before but had never really paid attention to before.

“You were worried about me.”

Fingers traced over the curve of your cheek.

“Remember how I said there were some things that I wanted to say to you? I realized that I’ve waited too long to tell you so I need to show you instead.”

You weren’t sure what he could mean by that, especially since you couldn’t see at that moment. But you didn’t have long to wonder.

Lips pressed to yours, soft and chaste. You raised your uninjured hand to hold him closer, your fingers in his hair as you continued the kiss. You had so many questions, so many things you needed to know, but you also had so much closure in that moment.

You were part of the team. And you take care of each other.

X

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[storyofmychoices]

By the Sea II: Becoming a Mermaid

[Mal Volari x Daenarya Masterlist] [Mal’s Orphanage Series]

Characters: Mal Volari, Daenarya (F!MC, human), Fienna (OC), 

Prompt: @choicesmonthlychallenge​: sea

TW/CW: mentions of past child abandonment and associated neglect

Synopsis:After meeting Fienna and learning that her parents abandoned her, Mal and Daenarya have to figure out how to convince the little girl to give up her dream of seeing a mermaid to come back to the orphanage. 

Setting: This is part of the Orphanage series. And is the second part of Fienna’s origin story which began in “By the Sea”. 

This is a couple of days later...

☆  ☆  ☆  ☆   ☆   ☆  

Her toes dug aimlessly in the sand behind her, the corners of her new blanket fluttering up in the soft breeze. Fienna rested her tired head on her arms as she stared longingly at the sea. “Maybe they’ll come today.”

Daenarya sat beside her, stroking her hair, freeing some of the sand and knots as she did so. “Have you thought more about what we talked about?”

“A little,” her voice was weak, her gaze shifting momentarily to Daenarya, then Mal. 

“Wouldn’t you like to have a home? And a bed?” Mal asked. 

Fienna’s thoughtful dark eyes drifted back to the gentle lapping of the waves. “I suppose...But, the mermaids!”

Daenarya and Mal shared a somber look. It had been three days since they had stumbled across the abandoned seven-year-old. She had spent the past year and a half since her parents had left her keeping a steady watch for mermaids. It wasn't completely beyond the realm of possibility to come across one, however, the likelihood of doing so this close to shore and at a busy port no less was what hindered her chances. 

"Can we get you something for lunch?" Mal asked. Daenarya continuing to comb through the girl’s hair. 

"Okay," she nodded. "I'll tell the mermaids you'll be right back."

"That's very thoughtful."

Later in town… 

"What are we going to do with her?" Daenarya rested her head on Mal as they walked through the crowded street of the town's market. “We need to get back to the boys.”

"We'll find a way to get through to her," Mal insisted. His steady arm around her, comforting her. He knew her heart was unsettled, longing to help Fienna, but not knowing how. "If it weren't so dangerous I’d say we could take her back to that little cove we found. But she's too young."

Daenarya smiled, her troubled gaze softening at her thoughts. "Why do I feel like Rayden could get through to her?"

"Rayden has a gift for convincing everyone he's right and that his ideas are the best.”

"I think it's those eyes!" 

"And that nose!" He chuckled. “When he smiles it does this little crinkling thing.”

“He really is something special. They all are. We have to find a way to convince her to come back with us.” Her voice began trailing away when something caught her eye a few vendors over. She pulled Mal forward, cutting quickly through the crowd. “What about that!?” 

Mal followed where she pointed and reached for the doll on the top shelf. “I think she’ll love it.” 

Daenarya’s fingers caressed the mermaid doll’s black hair. “Do you think it’s enough?”

“I’m not sure, but—” His brow raised in consideration. “It does give me an idea that might just get through to her. I’m just going to need some time. Can we hold off on giving her the doll? I think the two things will work best together.” 

The next day...

“We got you juice and some porridge with fresh fruit.”

Fienna reached for the bowl, wasting no time before digging in. She had survived mostly by stealing fish from the fishermen on the docks above and collecting any scraps of food they may have dropped or left behind.  

“Do you remember what we talked about yesterday?” Daenarya sat behind Fienna, brushing her hair as she had been doing every morning.

“Mmhmm.” The little girl nodded, her mouth too full to speak.

“We have to go home tomorrow,” Daenarya reminded her. She had freed enough of the girl’s hair over the past few days to braid the front back and out of her face. “We told you about Rayden and Lydo. The two little boys that we gave a home to already. We would really like you to come with us. We want to give you a place that is safe and warm, where you will always have food and a bed to sleep in.” 

She gulped down the mouthful of food. “But the mermaids.”

“I know and one day, when you’re older, we promise to take you to where we saw the mermaid we told you about.” Daenarya reached into their traveling bag and pulled out the doll they had bought her in the market the day before. “I know it’s not the mermaid you wanted to see, but we thought of you when we saw it.”

Fienna put down the food and cradled the doll in her hands. “She’s very beautiful. Thank you for showing her to me.” She attempted to hand the doll back. 

“We got it for you. She’s yours to keep.”

“For me? Really?” Her voice was so soft as her eyes cascaded over the doll. Her fingers combed through her hair. “She has black hair like me.”

“But it’s not as beautiful.” Daenarya finished the braid she had been working on, before shifting to the girl’s side. Her smile grew as she saw the wonder in Fienna’s eyes as she hugged the doll to her chest. “There’s one other thing.”

“Fienna, you have been so brave, but I know how scary it is out here. I know what it’s like to not know where your parents are. I still don’t know where my father is or if he’s even alive. I know you’re doing your best, but you shouldn’t have to be brave all on your own.” Mal brushed his thumb over her cheek. He saw a part of himself reflected in her deep brown eyes. “Let us be brave for you, so you can focus on playing and laughing and showing us that beautiful smile of yours.”

Mal reached into their traveling bag and took out a folded piece of teal fabric. “We know how important becoming a mermaid is to you. And we know coming with us means you have to put that dream to the side for now. So, we had this made just for you.”

“Is it another blanket? I do get cold sometimes.” Fienna placed the doll at her side and accepted the new gift. Her little fingers opened it upside down at first. “Is it a dress?” She held up the bottom looking for an opening. “There’s no armholes.”

Mal and Daenarya watched with matching grins, waiting for her to figure it out. “Maybe try flipping it around.”

“Oo! It’s a skirt, it has a hole here.” Fienna slipped her feet into the opening. Her mouth twisting as she reached the end and her feet were still inside. Her eyes popped open at once, realization setting in. Her fingers moved over her legs. She laughed gleefully, moving her feet up and down, causing the fin at the end to flap with her movement. “I’m a mermaid!” 

She bounced up trying to stand but quickly fell back down before she could take her first step. 

Mal was there to catch her, safely returning her to her spot between him and Daenarya. “I got you.”

“Thank you!” Fienna rested once more on her blanket. Her watch of the sea paused as she bobbed her legs up and down mesmerized by how her mermaid tail move with her. Her smile dwindled and her pace slowed. She picked up the mermaid doll and fiddled nervously with its hands, her eyes cast away from Mal and Daenarya. “If I come with you, I don’t get to keep looking for mermaids do I?”

“No, sweetheart, not for now at least.”

“But, I can keep this?”

“You can keep it either way. But, we’d really like it if you came with us. You shouldn’t be alone” Mal insisted.

She sat quietly thinking things over for a while. “Do you remember that shell the mermaid gave you?... Do you still have it?”

“We do.” The corners of Daenarya’s lips turned up, hopeful that this question was leading where she thought. “Would you like to see it?”

Fienna nodded. “Do you think it has magic still?”

“Only one way to find out.” 

“Do I have to stay if I don’t like it?”

“Of course not. But I think you’re going to like it.” 

“And you promise one day we can still find a mermaid.” 

“Promise! But only when you’re older. It’s not safe for you right now.”

“Will I really get my own bed?” Her eyes were wide when she asked the question as if she hadn’t actually believed them when they had mentioned it before. Tears trailed down her cheeks leaving a visible path as the walls she had kept up these past few days finally began chipping away. “And I won’t have to hide from scary people at night anymore?” Her hands clutched her stomach. “My tummy won’t hurt from hungries?”

“Oh, sweet girl!” Daenarya wrapped her tightly in her arms. “You’ll never have to be alone, hungry, or scared again.” 

Mal caressed her back softly, reminding her she would always have at least two people who cared for her and had her back, no matter what.

Fienna buried her head into Daenarya, letting herself be held and comforted for the first time in far too long. 

☆  ☆  ☆  ☆   ☆   ☆  

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[megumis-lashes]

Love Bites

Vampire! Han Jisung x Reader Part 1

**Contains**: mentions of blood/blood drinking, parental abuse, bullying, fighting, slight swearing, emotional abuse, friends to lovers, werewolf Hyunjin, western high school standards, female reader

Flashback =

> Hello

Narrators POV

In today’s society, supernatural beings like vampires and werewolves are believed to be mythical creatures. Few people believe in their existence and have many false stereotypes surround these creatures’ existence. In reality they do exist. Supernaturals or whatever you like to call them, live a life hidden from society. They play the role of innocent humans is a world where they aren’t accepted.

Name’s POV

After a long, stressful week of school I was finally home to relax, or at least that’s what I wish I was doing right now. Throughout my whole life, I always had an immense amount of pressure put on me by my parents. They wanted a perfect daughter. Not perfect in the sense of a loving child, oh no they had their own definition for the word. To be a perfect child by their standards was practically impossible. I would need to have prefect grades, perfect manners, a perfect record, but despite having all those things I was still a disappointment. I wasn’t ever allowed to have friends, they would simply distract me from school. Defying this logic I was required to participate in at least one sport for college credit. I chose volleyball on a whim. I was practically exhausted every day. I had school each day, followed by practice and then hours of homework. Despite the amount of stress I am constantly facing, my parents only ever cared about results, positive results that is.

You see I’m currently in a very dangerous situation. This week I had been so overwhelmed by homework that I fell asleep before I finished studying for an exam. It was understandable. I hadn’t gotten proper sleep in days and staying up till 3am every night doing homework was clearly taking a toll on my health. My parents could care less though. I had scored a 73 on the exam which was just barely passing in my school’s standards. My parents were furious, and I was scared of their reaction to say the least. I had an idea of what was coming.

I got kicked out?

“No fucking way.” I breathed out as I stood with my hands full in front of my house. This is probably the last thing I would’ve expected but they sure did it. Typically their punishments weren’t this bad. They would just yell at me for a while, threaten to take things from me, maybe hit me if they were really mad, and then tell me how much of a disappoint I was. This wasn’t anything I wasn’t used to so I barely had a reaction to it anymore. This lack of reaction seemed to trigger something new in them. If I wasn’t affected by their typical punishments they would have to step up. So they kicked their barely 17 year old daughter out of their house on a bone-chilling Friday in October.

It was nearing 6:00 PM and I had no idea what to do. They had given me barely five minutes to grab whatever items I would need to survive for however long I would be homeless. I had managed to scrap together the bare necessities. I was still dressed in my school uniform but luckily brought a change of clothes. The first thing I did was change. I couldn’t be a bad representation of my school could I? I didn’t have much. I had just enough time to stuff my school bag with clothes, my wallet, laptop, phone, chargers and snacks but I was still frozen to the bone.

My first thought was to check into a small hotel, but I quickly dismissed the idea when I saw the price. I walked around the city area, contemplating who I could ask to stay with but oh, I don’t have any friends. After wandering around for a while I had subconsciously returned home. Maybe they would let me in? Nope. All the doors and windows were locked and a small note was taped to the door.

‘Left on vacation. Be back soon. Name, if you break in we’ll disown you.’ I sighed. Of course they left. I’m even more desperate for somewhere to stay now.

As time passed and I continued to walk around, the night grew darker and darker. I had walked in what seemed like circles for hours and I was even more exhausted than usual. As I was walking in the city, I heard soft growls behind me. Now that I thought about it there were barely any people here. As I glanced back behind me, my blood ran cold. What is that thing?

From the shadows I could barely make out what I assumed to be its face. Despite this a few startling details stood out to me the most. It had beady red eyes that seemingly glowed under the moonlight. It looked to be an animal, having a pure black fur coat that seemingly stood up on edge. The last thing I saw were its insanely sharp teeth that dripped with saliva as it growled. Despite this sudden shock, it didn’t take long for me to realize I was in danger and book it in the opposite direction. I heard louder growls behind me and I could almost feel its hot breath on my legs. It was right at my heels biting at my ankles in hopes to slow me down. With my low energy I knew I wouldn’t last long at this speed. I had to do something to help me escape. Out of pure adrenaline rush, I made a quick turn and with a sharp motion I slammed my bag across its face. As it whimpered in pain I quickly tore open my pack and grabbed out the heaviest school book I had and threw it as hard as I possibly could at its face. This seemed to shock the animal at it rolled over on the ground in pain. I took this as an opportunity to escape and bolted away as fast as I could.

I had been running for what seemed like forever and finally, my body gave out. Once I figured I was far enough away from it I stopped pushing myself and collapsed on my knees in a fit of coughs and strangled breathing. I escaped at least. My only price to pay was the harsh burning sensation that was bubbling up in my lungs and some slight scratches. I was alive at least. The only downside to my escape is that I had No. Idea. Where. I. Was. As I ran, my surroundings seemed to have blended together. The city streets were long forgotten and I was surrounded by lush forest. A forest I had never seen in my life.

Despite my current distress, I knew I still had to find somewhere to sleep. It was pitch black out now. I assumed it was nearing midnight but I wasn’t sure as my phone had died a couple hours before. I was as lost as lost could be and instead of wandering around aimlessly for the rest of the night, I figured I’d just sleep near a sheltered tree. I sure as hell needed plenty of sleep. I laid there on the cold, wet ground for what I could only assume was a couple hours. I was still terrified. I was extremely shaken by my experience from earlier. I was also freezing. The little warmth my clothes had given me was quickly lost due to the freezing water that had seeped into them upon contact with the ground. At some point I must’ve passed out as that is the remainder of the memories I have from that night.

“Hello? Hello? Excuse me miss are you alright? Are you alive? Wow Jisung that’s a smart questions to ask.” I heard distant talking from what seemed to be above me.

I rubbed my eyes in confusion, slowly blinking them open. As my vision cleared I saw a boy. The boy had slightly grown out dirty blonde hair, golden eyes, a relatively short stature and was dressed in sweats. The most shocking detail of all was how familiar he looked, almost too familiar.

The boy blinked in surprise. “Oh! I see you’ve awoken... finally.” He slightly mumbled. “Sorry to wake you its just I don’t see people casually sleeping in the forest everyday you know.” He shuffled and rubbed his neck as he spoke.

I clambered around and began to sit upright as I continued to stare at him. I definitely knew him from somewhere. He seemed to somewhat recognize me as well.

“Ah that sweater! You must be from Maple High as well then, that’s why you seem so familiar!” He explained “Wait what’s your name... ah wait don’t tell me I know it...... is it Name by any chance?” He questioned. Now I knew exactly who he was.

“You’re correct. And you’re Han Jisung right? We’ve been in chemistry, music, and language arts classes together for the past two years. Now I’m embarrassed I didn’t recognize you sooner.” I mumbled out of embarrassment.

“No no its fine! Plus it took me a while to remember your name.” He chided as he rubbed his neck once again. “Do you mind letting me know why you’re stranded out here in the forest? If you’re camping or something then that’s understandable but this area is known for being very unsafe, plus you look dangerously unprepared.” He questioned.

“Ah about that... you see I got lost last night. I was in the city and some animal chased me and I wound up here somehow.” I awkwardly chuckled. I mean I wasn’t being completely honest but only certain people would fully understand my situation.

“You wouldn’t happen to know the way out of this hell hole would you?” I pleaded.

“Now I see what happened!” He chuckled as he seemingly put the pieces together. “I can show you the way out! This forest is practically my second home haha.” he laughed

Jisung had helped me grabbed my things and started to lead me out of the forest.

“Hey Jisung?”

“Yeah?”

“How come you know this forest so well? And how did you even find me? I mean its a pretty random location?” I questioned.

“Oh, I come here to hunt.” He blurted out.

“Hunt? Like animals? Isn’t that like really outdated?” I questioned.

“Oh..uh..yeah I hunt like deer...and stuff. I guess my family is just kinda outdated. Hunting is a... hobby of mine I guess....” He trailed off. I found his answer rather odd... I mean he seemed nervous? No unsure? Whatever it was probably nothing.

As he led me out of the forest I managed to slip up and mention that I had to figure out a place to stay. Out of what I could only assume was a mixture of kindness and pity, he offered to let me stay at his house. At first I immediately declined. It was such a huge offer to just give to someone you barely know. Plus I would feel guilty as I had little to offer him in thanks. Eventually he persuaded me to stay with him. My payment could be in the form of chores as he was home alone, his parents away on business. He lent me clothes and let me stay in one of his many guest rooms. I took a shower and once again took a nap.

[captainkurosolaire]

Reverie of Winning

“She has a name, you bastard!”

At no chance would that sufficiently hit Shiro who was calculated always and right now as he began returning to his evil ways, mental tormenting drew satisfaction. All forms had thresholds he felt compelling and screaming other demon’s floating inside him screaming the gap of their power was tremendously in his favor. The indifference's were believed absurdly countless to count. An aetherial icy hand began molding and attempting to seal in his block. More ice surrounded Shiro’s entire frame that often was always around him in a transparent bubble. He had a certain radius that kept him clean and secure from filth and pollution. A protective aura of sorts or defined as his safe-zone. The ice that spawned forth was rapid and not in any sense logically gathered as his corruption defied his normal limits. The Captain predicted a counter only under the many battles they contested his better instincts and judgments kicked in. He followed up in his motion high-kick while allowing them to remain linked to trace behind his spine and unstrap his revolver charged with high dense explosive hollow rounds. Taking a point of aim. Shiro laughed between the true portion of this fight began shaping full-on something associated with likeness of a Voidal presence alarming around the stage of this contest. Horns and demonic runes began burning his flesh and replacing his birthed markings. “Did I hit a nerve?” Before Kuro could hit the trigger Shiro ran his finger into the barrel jamming and stuffing it with a diamond icicle shard perfectly sculpted. Causing a clogged discharge and a catastrophic boom. At the same time releasing Kuro’s leg letting the forced impact entirely boom him ever comically over to the other side of the Ruins from a discharged recoil. He ate it up. Shiro manically became more unstable like a misperformance tune on a violin string. So this is what he sacrificed and sold his every remaining piece of humane for..?                   Good riddance. This power activated only in unmatched hatred and only festered parasitical growth. Captain’s entire frame clashed into a heap of old rubble as many additional falling slid onto his downed canvas in a burial pile. Shiro began a hymn step in casualty coolness while seeking to lecture and berate his cringe of a foe. “I uncovered recently in my travels all your memories of your loved one have stripped from you too, ironic, opposing my rightful claim in trying to get mine returned. However, I’d ask what you were doing coming here for this Treasured Relic was your intentions really any far from my own? Do you really believe yourself better than me, somehow, at all? That you could forgive yourself for letting that part of you freed.  Yes… You threw all the other Stars to fall, those other so-called gems you go on about, everything and cast them aside for her sake, even abandoning the seas pledges in the pursuit of straying to whatever pact once that made you somewhat mildly amusing as a character. Though what makes your bond more important than mine? My sake is just as valued as yours! Losses of glory are always painful no matter so tell me your differences, fiend!” Long absence and pause happened on Captain’s side as he had to work much harder to catch his breathing from a hit like that. Suddenly softer pieces of rubble over-top began rolling down the pile. His hand breaking forth before shoveling himself into the landslide. Scratches, bruises, and blood already began dripping from him in disarray his eyebrow on his skin peeled back. His rigid lungs forced him to cough out the dust and debris.

As he slowly began to reclaim his posture. “Who said anything about mine is more important in comparison? I legitimately and full-hardheartedly messed up. It’s not my first-voyage or time, probably won’t be the last. I’ve been on the verge of being n’ the whole happily ever after sunset many times and I screwed them all up. There’s no blame outside my own. Look at me. I get n’ these types of injuries and situations all the time. This isn’t anything unusual, I’m a handful in every sense, sometimes, there’s more pain in that than the actual intended pleasure. Even to other Voidsents on my crew formerly, or mythical creature’s beyond mind, I can be an exhausting nightmare to even them. Ye think that’s healthy or stable or somehow certified sane? Doesn’t matter even if you’re eternal or everlasting or blessed by some creator that’s bound to taint and soil any waters. She cast me out and extended mercy on me and freed me even as I turned to the epitome of fright, a prediction she foresaw, even when I wanted to fog from reality.”

 “T’ sow these rifts like this one I can’t make my departure soured without learning. No one deserves more happiness than what Ayla gave and should have gotten or any of the recognition I lacked in providing… I’ll always have a part of me that love’s her and owe every fortune I obtain here on and out as her claim too. But In order for that to transpire reassuringly all that I formerly had in the light and was known for my fame and all my signs of openly living must forever be the shadows ownership for now. Nightmares were meant to end when eyes are opened! So... WITH THAT BEING SAID. I’ll show you who I’m fighting for in this!” He took on a charge once again reinvigorated even knowing in every sense this was futile, outclassed and outmatched. Last time he came close to defeating Shiro first-time it took him preparing and actually expecting the battle. Using Grade 2 - Wyvern-Obsidian to carve through the Diamond Ice. He didn’t have that courtesy in this encounter. The pirate wasn’t selfishly throwing these in some self-made vault or intending to use any of the trophies acquired in usage. He wanted to secure and put them into a slumber further away from the worst in his sector corner. To let them be with either their people of origins or to reside with researchers in museums or artistic wonders if they didn’t forebode troublesome damnation. Regardless to Shiro’s belief the Captain had no plans or intentions to encounter his bettered-rival here in this map and next adventure and when he did stumble across and saw with his first sight. It broke a cord inside him with a sign of sympathy and regret. Shiro believes there was no such thing as a pirate of compassion. He was wrong alongside with that whole illusion of wishing-well when someone was in a compromised and fallen mood was a ruse. It was understandable coming from the upper echelon in society, people always swindled and played the same card to merely keep a connection or contact with status closely to them. There wasn’t an entire flaw in Shiro’s jaded thoughts though there was more depth he refused. Realms were led by statistics. It’s why categorization and separation hierarchies had to exist. There was realism and there was idealism. Those that weren’t taught the exact same ways as others those so-called privileged weren’t known by the same eld textbooks or hand-me-down spew from fossilized oaks. Those that had nothing but a scrap of their own knowledge and perception crafted their own past droid teachings. Eventually, there was one part of a group line that coherently believed in all formed free. Fears of free often were doubled-sided, naturally, as one part of the definition of free could simply just mean pure anarchy and chaos an excuse for lawlessness. While another believed that any and all forms of corrupt and foul could exist no matter the origins it was all individual influenced and decided. And shouldn’t be determined until active clarity was known but over time this became a worthless fight. It was easier just to knuckle up for these arguments and drive home their value.    (Previous)  — /References/ —   ♫ ‘Black Holes’ — (Next Page)

[mrsunderhill678]

Woops, I wrote again

"What a shame it is, ta recognize the fingers that pulled back the hammer. What a shame it is, when the man in the mirror's the one who shot the gun." - Darnell Bronko

"They tell ya heaven's in hiding and lead you to the edge of your sanity, whispering, "Jump, heaven sits at the bottom." And as you fucking fall, you begin to realize that angels never fell, they jumped and thought it paradise." - Jess Mercikal

"I'm a grave dug too early, digging up my own bones, always wondering why the different are damned whilst the powerful are celebrated for their indifference. But I guess that's just how it goes, huh? The boy who cries wolf is loved by the predator, for he falls easily into his maw. But as he begs for a savior, everyone passes the different boy by because "He asked for it." - Havio Bonecross

"There is no beauty more pure than the release of life, the gasp of the heretic soul whispering like smoke on the edge of the saint's holy knife." - Vareeth Gospel

"She was a delusion of the worst kind. Of the breathing, haunting kind that digs it's fingers into the recesses of your skull and crushes every thought, every memory with dream slathered hands. And she was the worst kind of evil that consumes, and consumes, and consumes until there's nothing left but the girl that was, but is no more." - Zacharia Von Shelrick

"My mind drifts back ta the days'a pain, and every time I see brokenness reflected in the eyes'a that old orphanage. And I can't help but think'a that little girl, chokin' on darkness and delusions before she ever had a chance ta live. And that's what pain does ta ya. It kills innocence and replaces it with himself." - Clayborne Pettygore

"In the eyes'a innocence decayed I met young evil, killin' a young girl from the inside out as if that old eightball had whispered she'd fall inta the darkness without a damn doubt. And every now and then, my darkness reminds me that in some ways, I'm just like that little girl. Dead too soon. Corrupted too young. A grave before I ever crawled." - Sampson O'Connel

"Some men get choice. Men like me get ta follow fate's river as it fuckin' sweeps em away." - Wyval Killsrift

"Son, I'd go inta the dark gently if I were you. Her teeth are sharp and she likes the kinda prey that fights back and dances on 'er tongue." - Wyval Killsrift

"I've got a knife in the back of my throat, and it coats my words in blood." - Wyval Killsrift

"Peel back my skin and tear me apart in search for redemption. In search for beauty. But all you'll find in the remains of my ribcage is a heart faded to black where all the red used to be. I'm a power lusting, sin starving, wretched beast, preying on his own flesh just to survive who he's become. But I like it that way. I always have. There are many forms of death that don't end in a funeral. A kind of death you can only see in the flickers of emotion in a cruel man's eye." - Totalis Sinsbad

"Evil wears many faces. But the evil I met, she wore only one." - Bob Smyke

"I don't think you ever really leave that first high. I was just young and dumb when I went on my first trip. I soared through the air on acid wings and smoke. My eyes spilling with tears that tasted like blood on my whiskey scarred tongue. And I'll never escape that memory. That addiction to the liminal. To the blurred edges of reality. I've grown so achingly tired of this body. I just want to fucking escape myself. And that's what my addiction gave me. But I the snake tongued devil, shaped like pills and needles never told me he'd carve small pieces of me off as I slept and dreamt of greater things." - Mieda Brushvaker

"Escaping reality's a deadly, thing. First, you tell yourself it's just this once. You'll never fucking do it again. And you keep telling yourself that. Before ya know it, people start leaving you because you're just a cocaine husk, bleeding from the tip of a heroin needle. I told myself I'd quit again, and again, but that shit changed me. And in some sinister fucking way, I'm always going to be a junkie, caught between this rift in reality. Cause I just ain't been me ever since white powdered fingers came for me in the dark and choked the reality from me." - Armano Sketer

"I wouldn't get in the habit of denying reality. It's a knife, my friend. And with every denial of it's existence, it sharpens. And it prepares to cut, slow." - Darwin Flowrick

"I'm a lustful, starving, crooked shadow. Feasting off of innocence. off of scars. Off of pieces of fragility and wicked divinity. Many call me a monster, but I'm human. Dreadfully human. And isn't that what makes their hearts run black? I am as human as they who damn me. I used to be just as innocent. But I came for myself, with teeth reddened by the slaughter, claws sharp and hungry for a young boy's innocence. And with pale, crooked eyes I desecrated my sense of self, and tore it apart piece, by delicious, starving piece." - Darwin Flowrick

"Redemption passed 'er by, and delusions came for 'er with feral, rotting teeth. If she ever knew innocence, it curled up in her chest and opened in her heart like a dyin' flower. Blackining. Decayin'. Dyin' before she ever had a chance ta fuckin' live. I once asked 'er "Why?" And all she ever did was smile and ask, "Why not?" And that's such a wicked kinda' evil. Such a relentless, fucked up kinda misery. And I always wondered, as she faded inta the night if she went home ta the darkness she'd always lived in." - Roan Scorpio

"Darkness beats in my chest, like a soft, quiet melody told by very few. They say it's forbidden. They say it's cursed. Dreadful. Deadly. But I like the way it resurrects me. The way it pulls my cracked bones back together. The way it stitches the flesh and sits, like blood on the tongue. I sway under the dying light of innocence, closing my eyes as I know, I've truly felt what it was, to die. And it came for me with pale fingers and crooked, bones. And I like the way it nips at my scars with reddened teeth and tells me this horror is beautiful." - Elzibith Varcoat

"There's a ghost in my head, and it whispers reasons for it to haunt me. You'll fall back, it says, you'll grasp at that sweet release just to escape from the mind numbing reality of who you are. And I always fight back in whimpers, and cries, and tears in the corners of my eyes. It's not so easy fighting a war when the enemy is yourself, and it's who you are on the frontlines. Armed with rifles full of addiction and needles, ready to prod. And tear. And chew away at me until I'm me no more. Just another drug bound, addiction fueled ghost." - Torva Allidaine

"Truthfully, I am not a human being. Humanity was ripped from me first from bullet hole fangs and gunpowder dripping tongues. And as I tried to scrap together what pieces of me I had, humanity was once more torn away from my bones. For pale fingers came in the dark and ripped, away. As if I was just another layer of skin hiding the bitter, rotten goods. So I do what I can with what little I have. I kill a bad man. I fire off another fucking bullet. Because that's all I am. A thing that goes bump in the bad thing's quiet darkness." - Amarillo Crocker

"Sometimes, I must confess, I begin to wish I could rip away at this skin. Like a sunburn beginning to peel. I have stood in this flesh for too long. This aching, heavy, crushing flesh. This is not me. It can't be. I want to fall, like Icarus from the sky. To let my wings and skin burn away with the heat of the sun. If only to reveal the woman hiding behind all this skin. This ugly, defiant, constricting skin. I am a cage. But I've always been a cage. too." - Valdosta Coffenbury

"Hungry, reminding fingers wrapped around my chest. Stealing the air from me. The comfort. The safety. It was always there. Always hungry. Always reminding me I'm not who I should be. Who I want, to be. It lives in the mirror, and the steam from the shower. It lives in my chest. In the edge of a shaving razor as I cut away at facial hair that never should've been there. It's suffocating, sometimes. But usually, it's quiet. In the back of my head. In the back of my chest. The back of the shower. Always there. Always hungry. Always reminding me of the face that isn't mine in the mirror. And that's what it feels like. Being somebody that isn't you. Never was. Never will be. Never again." - Valdosta Coffenbury

"I fell asleep, but it weren't so kind. I tossed, and I turned. I fell inta my first nightmare'a the night. I can remember the pitch black sky. His quiet anger that was so, loud. I couldn't speak. As if the terror, or the sorrow, or whatever the fuck it was sat in my throat, forcing my words back down like tears drippin' from my cheeks. I don't remember much'a the second nightmare. Just red. Everywhere. In my throat, in my words, bleedin' from my God damn eyes. But then I was awake in the twilight, wrapped in itchy blankets and cold sweat, wonderin' if I'd woken back inta my life, or stepped inta another fucked up piece'a me." - Ace Swinton

"My heart's a threadbare emotion, starving on the memories of my mother." - Rafaela Caesar

"I want to see the vulnerable side of you as I slink under the shadows of your bed, to listen to the way your breath breaks and mourns under the weight of a nightmare and dream divided. I want to see you broken as I hide in the shadows of your closet, to hear the secrets you whisper to torn sweaters and dresses you outgrew long ago. Eaten away by moths and woven into a spider's web. But most of all, perhaps, I want to taste the blood of your malice in my mouth as your anger nips at my tongue and tries to kill this man I am. You can never be rid of me, for I am the monster under your bed, who has killed all your shadows, and butchered all your light, wondering what you'd become on the edge of existence." - Darwin Flowrick

"Running my fingers against an old, worn out photograph, I come to realize my sister was a delicate hero to herself. There was a storm in her, a deadly, violent storm of anger and sadness. But when I look into those paper eyes, splashed with her sister's tears, I can't help but think I failed her in some way, as if I'd just tried a little harder, she wouldn't be this cold case in my heart." - Sun Morvosina

"Some sins are perhaps worse than murder, worse than lust, death, desire. And perhaps my mind lusts for the things that will damn it, shoving sins into it's maw and sucking at the heart until it's bone white. But the greatest sin of all, perhaps, is that I am me, and in some way, I always have been." - Melias Skinwalker

"My heart's a gentle, moss covered bomb, and every now and then, a fragile little emotion comes on by and pulls back the pin. Can you imagine that kind of deadly vulnerability to your darkness?" - Ben Stilts

"I dipped my pen in the blood of my identity, and word by word, I wrote my death." - Shilo Andrakall

"I'm gunpowder and pistol smoke rising after the murder of another man's conscience, and as the smell of death begins to brew in the puddles of red rain, I come to realize a soldier dies the moment he steps on the battlefield, and out from his heart claws a monster made of gunmetal sacrifice and howling intentions." - Halzio Vickmon

"Blood on the hands mares the vision of the revolution, dwindlin' it down ta nuthin' but murder. But rest assured, good will come'a this." - Cedric Popovici

"It's starting to feel like this world doesn't run off of what's right, but rather thrives off of what's profitable. We spill blood and we call it noble. We fire our rifles and call it a good cause with violent tendencies. Good, does not come for men like you and me. We died the moment we stepped into a revolution built on the backs of those who fought." - Havar Swanson

“I spent so long thinking something was wrong with me. Thinking that being who I am was wrong, and hateful. But as I learned to accept myself, and met a man in the shadows of the night, I came to realize hate convinces you love is just another afterthought of the foolish.” - Paige Newdelle

“Armello's a kind, soft, beautiful soul, loving me in all the colors we can see. And even some we can't, too. As he kisses me deep, and I run my fingers through his tangled hair, I know the lost can be found, even if it's in their own Neverland. Even if they have to find beauty in a Wonderland of our own.” - Paige Newdelle

“If I have to be somebody, I want to be somebody worth being.” - Camille Trueblood

“If I could, I'd wear all their scars for them. I'd let the darkness swallow me whole. For all my life, I've promised to be their mother, their hero, their best friend. When they're hurting, mama's always here to wrap em up in a big old hug and tell them everything'll be okay. And when they have secrets that dig into their hearts, they can always come to me and unburden themselves. I'll give them everything I never had. Because I lived in a loveless home, and I just want them to know though life can hurt, it can also be so, damn beautiful.” - Camille Trueblood

“In some way, my children are heroes to me, too. I was living a lonely life until I held my two baby girls in my arms. And slowly, more of my heroes came into my life and grew like seeds of love that just couldn't wait to blossom. I must be the luckiest woman alive, to have found such joy after the hurting. To find such love after my heart stopped beating.” - Camille Trueblood

“Truthfully, I'm not a masterpiece. But aren't I beautiful with these torn edges and faded colors?" - Camille Trueblood

“Scars can only exist so long as they're hidden.” - Camila Dillingo

“There's no greater misery, really. Then being surrounded in a field of hateful hands that poke and prod at your identity until you no longer feel like yourself past all those stains of mean spirited words and actions.” - Camila Dillingo

“I think family never ended with blood. It always started with the promise of loyalty, the promise of love that grows and changes with who we become.” - Camila Trueblood

“I know I'm just one voice in a crowd of shouts, but I always had this funny little idea that even just one person can change the world." - Camila Dillingo

“I often wonder who I would be if I was not me. And I often feel as if being a man I'm not would be kinder than being this man I am.” - Calliger Cougar

“I shook hands with a faceless devil, for he's worn a thousand different faces and a million different smiles, only to realize that truthfully, he can never be himself. Again and again he tells me he wants to wipe his slate clean, but his eyes are ever filled with immortal emotion. As are mine, as are mine.” - Calliger Cougar

“We're puppets dancing on nooses.” - Calliger Cougar

“My hands are stained in red emotion, my heart scarred the dirty color of emptiness, my eyes dripping with the tears other men couldn't bring themselves to shed.” - Calliger Cougar

“The world's grown tired now, and as it's eyes begin to close, and humanity reaches it's final hour, we should come to realize with the world's aching last breath, peace shall finally rise golden over the horizon. Humanity's become such a festering plague to themselves, and we're just waiting to rot away in bodies that aren't our own." - Calliger Cougar

“Life's become little more than an instinct, really. My heart beats because it always has, I breathe because that's what I've been doing all my life. I don't live because I want to. Because truthfully... I don't cherish my life.” - Burasbley Highersman

“I feel like a flower that's decayed, and people just take little pieces of my body away because they find beauty in the broken. But no light gets through my cracks.” - Burasbley Highersman

“I can still remember my mother's eyes, filled with ugly horror. And I can still remember all those nights spent in the dark, weeping because I wished this body wasn't mine. This scarred, bruised, fucked up body.” - Burasbley Highersman

“I've tried to escape myself in every way possible. I've touched the tips of death's fingers only to recoil at the feeling of her cold skin against mine. I've killed for substances that left me dreary and high, lost in a fucked up fantasy that I didn't earn. I can still remember the way cocaine tastes on my lip, the way the needle feels pressing against my bruised skin.” - Burasbley Highersman

“I'm like salt in coffee. Everyone always mistakes me for sugar, but recoil and hiss upon the tasting of me on their lip.” - Burasbley Highersman

“I'm just a heavy and cumbersome body carrying around bones that aren't even his.” - Burasbley Highersman

“People say we rise from our pain, but I was never a Phoenix, just a bird with broken wings that never learned how to fly.” - Burasbley Highersman

“Past dis hard shell, tiny cracks begin ta appear, cause dat's da life of a fighter. She swings 'er fists no matter da trouble dat comes 'er way. Dat's what life's about. My fathah taught me 'ow ta throw a fist at eight, I could throw my brothah outta the ring at ten. I've spent my whole life preparin' for the fight so that when it came 'round, I wouldn't be da one bloodied in the dirt.” - Ronda Blousey

“I've got black eyes and bloodied knuckles from all these wars I've waged.” - Ronda Blousey

“I'm a lioness, and my roar lives on the edge'a me bleedin' fist.” - Ronda Blousey

“The cruel, the damned and the monsters own this town in my heart. The inside of my ribcage is etched with old claws and gnashed, broken teeth. Because where all my memories used to hide, only scars now reside.” - Ellise Kivenstein

“Mark and my scars are all I've still got, because my heart beat's slow and only quickens in terror. Mark and I are feeble souls trying to make it to another day in each other's arms, but we feel so cold on each other's skin. We're lost, trying to find ourselves in each other, but I think that hope left us as our children became cold cases and became lost to an ever growing statistic that leaves wounds in the hearts of a parent.” - Ellise Kivenstein

“We're all just trying to gain some ground in the town of bastards and cheats, knowing even if we play the right cards, even if we roll double six or snake eyes, winning was never an option in a town of outlaws and sinners.” - Ellise Kivenstein

“I'm a cigarette tangled mess, skin etched with a mother's scars.” - Ellise Kivenstein

“I wish I remember what it was like. To be truly happy. But I suppose when you lose that big a piece of yourself, you'll never really feel complete. Because no matter how many part time substitutes you shove into that emptiness, it remains a blackhole, consuming everything else you thought you'd always have." - Ellise Kivenstein

“I've got pain in my heart where my mother used to be, and every now and then, I can still hear her ghost telling me no matter how far I fall, no matter how much pain I'm in, I'll always be her baby girl.” - Crescella Shroovet

“Truthfully, I'm playing Russian Roulette with my sorrow, wondering which of us will drop first. It's a dangerous game, fighting against your misery. Because the bastard cheats. I've learned to let go of the things that bring me pain. I can't climb a ladder of knives and blame myself for the way my palms bleed. I can't trudge up stairs of sticks and stones and blame myself for the way the soles of my feet begin to bloody.” - Crescella Shroovet

“My heart's a tapestry of my mother's words and loss, beating slow. Beating feeble. Beating truthful. I close my eyes and remember my mother's arms around me, and I tell myself, in a voice that sounds like hers', that everything'll be okay.” - Crescella Shroovet

“I woke up in a foreign land of ash and smoke, the remnants of my bridges burning in my nostrils and pulling tears from my eyes as I realize life gives no choice to the broken man.” - Asher Shroovet

“My mother used to tell me people are equal in the fact that they all have the choice to be good, but unequal in the choices they choose. But ever since my mother became a cold case in this heart of mine, I've begun to learn nothing ever changes. All but the weather and the nature of man.” - Asher Shroovet

“I used to be part of a silent crowd, anger sitting in my chest but never roaring. But I've learned silence is the kinda thing that kills, so with these scars in my voice, I let my roar be heard. Even if it's a little weathered. Even if it's a little broken.” - Asher Shroovet

“My sister and I are warriors of loss, mourning our angel's wings but knowing no warrior ever got to keep their halo. A hero is a man who fights with honor, sparing the bad man and the good man alike. A warrior is a man who does what needs to be done, giving no mercy to the cruel man because later down the line, another will die for the trigger you couldn't pull.” - Asher Shroovet

“I've learned pain's an immortal thing. Once you feel it, it never leaves you be. But it becomes easier and easier to live with as you grow, love and learn. We're all in pain. We're all hurting. It's what we do with that hurt that counts. It's who we become after the worst of it that makes us or breaks us." - Asher Shroovet

“My pain sits, like barbed wire under my shirt, bleeding me every time I move. Every time I sit. Every time I try to flee. My pain's in the gasps of my breath and the smoke that leaves my lungs. I'm a war of change and indifference, locked away in a barbed wire, human ribcage, wondering why my heart feels so locked up in the past.” - Bryan Jensen

“My memory's a thief in the night, stealing my joy. My safety. My sense of self. It rips into me, like a knife dragging thin white scars across my hurting mind and heart. Always reminding me that I'm not worth much past the words other people say. My scars whisper to me, begging me to add more to my collection. My traumas repeat, as if I'm under a roaring river, tumbling and breaking my bones on the stones of my fucked up memory.” - Bryan Jensen

“I stay alive, if only to protect her from my death.” - Bryan Jensen

“We were just two broken children in a fucked up home, hiding beneath dirty sheets and blankets. Wondering why love never found they who needed it the most.” - Bryan Jensen

“I can still hear the shouts of my father, the open palm of my mother. Their pain became my pain. Their words became my words. It was as if they were a fucked up religion, burying my sense of self underneath holy words and verses, bound in the righteous spine of a young boy's pain.” - Bryan Jensen

“I'm a grave bound shovel diggin' the holy their beds'a eternal slumber, made'a dirt and names forgotten by all but the fuckin' stone.” - Peter Scolifade

“Truth is, monstahs hide in da kindest'a men, and all it takes for that wicked bastard ta break outta his cage is one good reason. And friend, my monster found plenty'a reasons.” - Peter Scolifade

“Cold, deathly fingers wrapped around me chest, stained teeth bit down on my skin, opening red mouths in my scarred flesh. And as the monster within' tore through me, coverin' me in reasons ta die, I knew this was it. This is how saints fuckin' die.” - Peter Scolifade

“I grew up on an old dirt road with nuthin' ta call me own, lookin' for reasons ta live in the ink spilled sky. But brothah, all I found 'tween the stars were bullet shadows and gunpowder constellations whisperin' of the end'a old Saint Peter. And it was there, under the ol' night sky that Peter Scolifade died, and out from his corpse rose a man that looked like him. All but in those wicked eyes, cold and righteous with the promise'a grim ends ta come.” - Peter Scolifade

“I ripped through me sense'a self with a dead man's knife, partin' the red sea in my ribcage, barin' me black heart ta the shadows and monsters'a dis world. And as I fell back, a mess'a things that glisten red in da night and crimson that pools beneath dead men's feet, I knew I was no more than a murder, livin' on past 'is years as a ghost." - Peter Scolifade

“In my mind, it feels like two old friends have collided fist to fist and neither knows what they're fighting for.” - Brandall Mulligan

“Under lonely and begging colored bar lights, I met a devil, wrapped in desire and lust, and all the things that go bump in the night. She's cigarette smoke curling around a dead man's finger, whirring him back to life with empty promises and whispers of a grand becoming.” - Brandall Mulligan

“You know, a ghost of the gambling den once told me that the darkness is welcoming to those who don't fight it. And I'm starting to think he was right. Because the shadows look more forgiving then the light that burns like fire on my back.” - Brandall Mulligan

“I wouldn't take a bullet for me, so why should I expect anyone else to fight for me?” - Brandall Mulligan

“Bullets fall, like red rain down my ribcage, stainin' me heart the dirty color'a murder and whiskey bound misery.” - Ramsey Von Agamasteine

“I was always broken knuckles and shattered windows, walkin' down an old dirt road, trustin' my revolver sooner than me old heart.” - Ramsey Von Agamasteine

“I'm an outlaw of the old night sky, angel's fallin' through my scotch glass, devils clamberin' in the smoke'a my damn cigarette.” - Ramsey Von Agamasteine

“My ma always told me the weak man's easy prey for the bullet, the lost sheep's an easy meal for the starvin' wolf. And oh son, you're beginnin' ta look a little lost, and I got some hunger on the edge'a my bleedin' tongue.” - Ramsey Von Agamasteine

“We're all a silver coin away from a casket, we're all a cigarette away from a wildfire. Life don't care for the dead, but damn, it don't give much a damn bout the starvin' livin' neither.” - Ramsey Von Agamasteine

“Dare ye whisper bout me sin, I'll make sure yer damned by Sunday mornin', beggin' the preacher ta forgive yer wicked misery.” - Ramsey Von Agamasteine

“The thing about people is, they can't heal in the place where they were first hurt. Before they find peace, they've gotta leave the origin'a the pain behind.” - Wilford Straw

“The way I see it, we're all warriors in our own regard, hearts bared on whatever kinda sleeve we got. Be it leather, denim, bare or tattooed. Our hearts are out in the open, and the truth becomes the water in which we feed and grow.” - Wilford Straw

“I once asked a powerful man with pain in the cracks'a his smile and blood on the edge'a his razor where his fall from grace began. And he told me with flickers'a sorrow in his eyes that it started with death. It always starts with death. And sadly, that's what some men think. They tell emselves their already dead, so they never git ta thinkin' they can live again.” - Wilford Straw

“After the rain comes the bloomin.” - Wilford Straw

“The day I was born life gave me a blade and threw me into a war before I ever had a chance to learn how to swing my sword. And so I earned bruises I never should've suffered through, and my back's etched with scars I didn't have the right to earn.” - Liv Creek

“I see pieces of our father lost in his eyes, the lies of our mother dancing on his tongue. He tells me this is how it has to be. This is who he has to be to survive. But survival isn't worth it if it kills who you are.” - Liv Creek

“I'm a scarred warrior wielding a rusted blade against her demons, knowing their deaths come too slow.” - Liv Creek

“I've learned the path to strength is paved in the pain of the weak. Through this path of my own broken bones I stumble, pain hanging like a sword on my lip, heart hardly beating as I choose to survive rather than live. Don't cheer for the warrior as she passes you by, don't thank her for her sins. Mourn for her as you would a grave, weep for her as you would a lost one. Because the warrior is the weak girl who had no choice but to be strong and defy who she was in the face of her pain.” - Liv Creek

“I grew up believin' in all the little things. Like magic, and fairytales, and love that would last. But my Wonderland was stolen from me by a mad man's bullet, and as I look inta the eyes of a man I used ta call brother. Used ta call family. All I see is a tickin' clock, whisperin' that my old heart's runnin' out of time with each strike'a midnight. Boomin' like thunder in my mind.” - Buster Beckem

“Ya know, I've found that I find no comfort in the idea'a the future. The past's warm and welcome, wrapped in the blankets'a my love and the red lipstick'a my lover smeared on my paint stained cheek. But the future stands cold, flecks'a snow promisin' I won't make it out the other side a man that's me. And as I leave this Wonderland'a my memories behind, I know I leave with a heavy and burdened heart.” - Buster Beckem

“This old heart'a mine used to bare it's wings with pride, soarin' over the clouds and touchin' the sun with the tips of it's fingers. But it fell like an angel, graspin' at everythin' that made it feel loved as it faded away inta the future's distant twilight.” - Buster Beckem

“I've been countin' days ever since my love was lost on me. I've been savin' every smile in parts'a myself I hide. But I can't measure the loss in me. I can't begin ta describe this bruise on my tongue where her love used ta reside. I close my eyes and I can still see her sippin' from a chipped coffee mug, hair frizzy and orange, hands stained in blue and pink paint. I always told 'er she was a masterpiece, even if she weren't perfect. Even if she made mistakes. And now, as I lie down in an empty bed, I begin ta wish it was her arms around me rather than these tear stained cheeks. I begin ta wish it was her hand on my shoulder rather than a crow perched like loss on my jacket. And I begin ta wish, as I curl this finger around a trigger, that it was her fingers curled inta mine." - Buster Beckem

“I'm the color that stains your lips as you take your own off mine. I'm the color of your heart as she dances her clawed fingers against your scarred skin. And I'm the color that trails your body as she stains you with her venom love. But I'm the color of your rage, too. The color that bleeds from between your knuckles as you grip the broken pieces of your love. The color that stains your tongue as she bites down on your lip. How beautiful, how deadly, how strange, that I can be anything you want to be, and everything you never knew you needed. While also being the very thing that rips your heart from your chest, my hands thick with the color of love, and anger and pure blood that tastes innocent on the siren's lip.” - Kaia Harzelburg

“Don't you know monsters look like people? Don't you know sinners look like saints and taste like beauty on a heathen's bleeding tongue? I was always a serpent, fingers trailing against the holy as I mark them with my lust filled brand. It's foolish, to fall in love with the serpent, but I've pressed my lips against the skin of Eve and the forbidden fruit tastes of me as she bites down on the feeble flesh of sin. Of forbidden desire. Of deadly lust.” - Kaia Harzelburg

“They say we're all sinners, damned before we were ever born, but I don't think of it that way. Sin is earned, just as sainthood is fought for. Just as good is taught, just as evil is learned.” - Bobby Sticcs

“On the edge'a death I met a boy with misery and shadows in 'is eyes, carved inta like he was just another sheep fed ta the wolves. Never did I see war break a man so young, never before 'ad I seen a man bite down on bullets and call em his fangs. But in the eyes'a that boy, it wasn't war I saw. But hell, flickerin' in the eyes of a mad man.” - Bobby Sticcs

“Some men march off ta war for honor, others find the monster inside as the bullets begin ta fly. But in some way, we're all ghosts and monsters'a the trenches, as if those dirt dug battlefields were our Eden, our rifles our flaming blades. The pools'a red in the rain our forbidden fruit. And I 'spose that made they who sent us off ta die our serpents, lies and forbidden truths flickerin' from behind their damn teeth.” - Bobby Sticcs

“We can't live behind the lines'a our enemies, expectin' them ta care when we throw our lives on the wire thin line.” - Bobbi Crazendale

“Family don't end with blood, it starts with love.” - Bobbi Crazendale

“I've got an old heart that hums and whirs ta life upon the tappin'a Vernon's fingers 'gainst my cheeks. He's my gentle lullaby, and every time he presses his lips 'gainst mine, my heart bursts with colors I'd hardly 'ave recognized if it weren't for this love we share. We love each other in colors that didn't exist, but whirred ta life as our hearts collided.” - Bobbi Crazendale

“I've been on a long, treacherous road, throwin' my fists at da 'eart'a darkness, wonderin' why it looked like me own.” - Billy Jenkins

“In da past I see eyes I used ta love, caught in da rift between gunpowdah and survival, drownin' undah da tide'a sin and love. Swept away by the hungry, starvin' need ta stay alive. I can still remembah runnin' undah da willow wif' her, swearin' I'd love 'er for da rest'a me days. But where 'er 'eart used ta reside in moine, now sits a hungry bullet, carved with a name I recognize and used ta press against me lips. But this bullet feels cold between me teeth.” - Billy Jenkins

“I'll face me future wif' a baseball bat and a grin built off all da things it took ta survive. And as me sister tells me I'm 'er hero, I know dat even if me bones are etched wif' love lost ta the edge of a bullet and da loss'a me heroes, I can do me best ta do good by her.” - Billy Jenkins

“Da broken man wif love all around 'im is blind to da beauty before 'im." - Billy Jenkins

“There's not much man can control, all but the words that tumble like devilry from his tongue.” - Beutler De Niro

“I'm a business man, and everywhere I go I see business in black hearts and lies that shake the soul.” - Beutler De Niro

“Many have described me as a monster, but I'm human, and that's what makes me so dreadfully horrific to all who witness my blood stained revelry.” - Beutler De Niro

“Do you know what lies do to man? They sit, like a guillotine's shadow over the good man's neck, slowly wilting away their sense of self like a rose decaying to black. And eventually, through the lies of cruelty, the good man dies, and from his corpse, the husk of a wolf begins to rise.” - Beutler De Niro

“Any man will pull the trigger if told it's for his own good. Anyone will sin under the light of anonymity. We're monsters beating in black hearts, convincing ourselves that in our deadly sin, that we're human. But we never were. We never will be. We haven't been human ever since Cane rose a stone against Abel, ever since Eve took a bite from the dead man's fruit.” - Beutler De Niro

“Don't mistake my kindness for the truth, my friend.” - Beutler De Niro

“I've seen misery in the form'a rusted hatchets and dusty black coats bitin' at the wind, but I ain't gonna let this murder'a crows be the damn death'a me.” - Dolly Rainbolt

“I'm a spurred boot outlaw, kickin' her way ta freedom as the bastard sons'a darkness open fire at the girl they just can't catch.” - Dolly Rainbolt

“Some folks think power's found in the edge of a revolver with a hammer pulled back. But ya could never fire power from a dead man's gun. Power always came in the form'a good people helpin' other good folks make it ta sunrise. Power's found in the good hearted, in the justice bound, in the heroes and do gooders'a this world.” - Dolly Rainbolt

“I refuse ta stand by as bad men get their kicks at the edge of a hatchet's malice.” - Dolly Rainbolt

“The sunrise waits for all who sit in the dark, and the stars shine for all those who are lost. No matter where you go, light always shimmers, preparin' to let ya back inta her gentle embrace once more. Don't dare lose yerself ta the delusion that redemption don't come for those who've hurt." - Dolly Rainbolt

“I've been a dead man walkin' ever since I first dug a grave, and under that shallow dirt, two men lie. Ol' Thomas Quisly and Margrave Ed'Collinmellow. And together, they rot, like shadows under the light's festerin' grave.” - Margrave Ed’Collinmellow

“Welcome ta the wastelands, where the weak become blood on the strong's teeth, and the strong stand above like a shadow'a survival and misery.” - Margrave Ed’Collinmellow

“Good luck tryin' ta kill this vessel'a rotted flesh and hollow heart. My humanity was ripped into by stained, yellow teeth. It pulled away at the flesh. At the mercy. At the goodness in me. Until nuthin' but a festerin' heart'a sins sat where Margrave Ed'Collinmellow used ta be. Shadow, and cruelty bit inta my heart and tasted the redness in me, stainin' their teeth with innocence and purity. Until all that ran through my veins was dark.” - Margrave Ed’Collinmellow

“The world's gone quiet these days, all but the moans'a hunger that come from the wax white graves'a man. And here I stand, just like the biters and creepers that shamble and bite.” - Margrave Ed’Collinmellow

“Ever since my mother was taken from me for the things she did to survive, I've been left out alone like a criminal amongst the dead and weary. I've spent my whole life fighting a war, just trying to survive. Just trying to get back to my mother. But fate tore us apart before it brought us together, and all I can do is clutch these memories and whisper, "I wish you were here." - Hazel Winchester

“On the dark and grimed streets I met insanity, reflected in yellow teeth and cold blue eyes. They called themselves the unforgivables, and as my death flashed in the silver of their knives, I knew why they could never be forgiven. They made a warrior out of me, but I won't thank them for these wolves' claws.” - Hazel Wincester

“I wish my mother was here to tell me how to survive. To wrap me up in her tattooed arms and tell me everything's going to be okay. But she's a broken piece in my memory, always bleeding me. Always reminding me that she's not here.” - Hazel Winchester

“Always reminding me that she's not here. I speak in the tongue of violence. My words have become steel clashing on steel. My song has become blood on innocent hands. And this language I speak has become teeth gnashing and biting at the good in me until all that remains is the survival, in me.” - Hazel Winchester

“I'm a lion lookin' ta the grey and empty sky, wonderin' why the only color I see is red.” - Bortley Dekruiful

“Dare not walk inta the shadow of the circus, where bad things are done in the dark and plastic teeth rip inta the hearts'a the frail and weary.” - Bortley Dekruiful

“Wherever I go, there's a siren callin' me name in strobe lights'a red and blue, tellin' me I'll be the last one standin' in a murder full'a crows. But here I sit, as the one beast I can't tame, my heart nocturnal, my ribs broken by the beast that rattles in my damn chest.” - Bortley Dekruiful

“Look deep inta the eyes'a those who preform and you'll begin ta find it's pain that drips from their tears. Our laughs are made'a glass and we're just the beasts taught how ta dance. There lies no beauty in this paradise, for Eden's been consumed by a serpent's maw, and the angel who swore ta protect lies silent in the belly'a the snake.” - Bortley Dekruiful

“Long ago I asked life what I'd become, and as I stared at a pool'a my own blood, all I could see was a red lion reflected in me pale and hungry eyes.” - Bortley Dekruiful

“Life is lived at it's best when it's simple. When it's beautiful in it's odd and whimsical mundane fantasies.” - Beckett Cruvell

“My thoughts and who I am just don't align, cause as things begin to change, my regret stays stagnant. And it claws at me, ripping through my throat as it says, "I wish you the best with me by your side." - Bartholomew Stiller

“I've spent my whole life wanting to bring justice to the cruel, to bring peace to the good. But as red and blue sirens blare in my head, coloring the smoke and fog the color of justice and division, I begin to realize I'm just a gunshot echoing between my own dead eyes.” - Bartholomew Stiller

“Who am I past this anger? Past these sins? Past the gunshot fired off in rage and bitter consequence?” - Bartholomew Stiller

“Some secrets are better left undug, but there I stood, shovel in hand, unaware it was a grave I dug for myself. And as I fell, clutching at roots and dirt, I came to realize looking for secrets in the dark is like playing Russian Roulette with a fully loaded chamber. And damn, man. I just pull that trigger.” - Bartholomew Stiller

“What a wonderful world it is, ink, rippling like blood in the water, stars blinking out as humanity whither and dies like a daffodil God forgot.” - Azralos Crossvine

“Do you wish to kill me? Good luck. Killing a man with such power is no easy task. For his words live on in the empty hearts of the men and women who stood so gleefully under his boot's shadow. My words live on like a growing weed in the garden of Eden, choking the life from the roses and leaving a bush of thorns behind. It's not so hard, killing a man with simple phrases such as, "You are saved," And, "In the eyes of God, you are forgiven." - Azralos Crossvine

“I've watched men put a gun against their temple and pull the trigger for the grace of God. I've watched people leap from cliffsides to appease the clouds and stars. I've got blood on my hands, and they are drenched in the kind of words that kill.” - Azralos Crossvine

“I was just a young and dumb shot in the dark, hurtling toward a target he didn't know shared his damn name.” - Avian Browdy

“I stare heavy into the empty eyes of fate, and with a broken claw, he carves bits and pieces of me away from myself, until I can hardly call myself human with these puzzle piece scars etched into my damn skin.” - Avian Browdy

“You know, an old friend once told me monsters look just like us. They share our eyes and pretend to be human, but when they smile, and the sun glints pale on their fangs, you best know to run head over heels to escape a fate of claws and reddened maw.” - Avian Browdy

“Peace don't live in the man mercy forgot but hate remembered.” - Avian Browdy

“Shadows exist as extant forms of us, and as regret claws at my throat, I know it left it's scarf behind in my life, only to come back for it years later and fashion it into a noose around my fucking throat." - Avian Browdy

“People break you down and cast their stones against you, just to say, "That's life, better get used to it before it kills you." But cruelty was never life, just death coming for the hurting souls early.” - Gabianna Santinos

“The cruel and hateful look for justification for what they've done, condemning they who they've hurt just to feel as if they're righteous in their cruelty, in their hate. But there was never any justification in hate, just the way our emotions bleed onto others. Like a red rain coming from the dark clouds of our misery.” - Gabianna Santinos

“You can't spend your life wasting away into emotions better left spoken. You've got to let the truth speak for you when your words can't.” - Gabianna Santinos

“Mistakes are what we learn from, they build who we are, but they also leave scars. Truthfully, I'm haunted by the things I've done and the people I've hurt. They sit in my mind like ghosts who just don't wanna leave me be, reminding me that worst parts of me are the ones running the show.” - Sam Wormwood

“She saw past the worst parts of me, and told me that she was here for all of me, not just shards and pieces of me. But these days, it feels as if I'm a wayward archer with an arrow that never flew. My arrows sit in my heart, like holes of loyalty and intention. I'm always bleeding. Because I've got blood on my hands and memories I wish I could forget.” - Sam Wormwood

“As I looked into the eyes of someone I called brother, and saw nothing but cruelty in his eyes, I realized who we're around influences who we are. And I'd become cruel in the search for brotherhood. But as he swung his fist, and I laid him in the dirt, it still felt as if karma would come for me with eyes I recognized.” - Sam Wormwood

“I have to wonder if that's an angel or regret lying on my shoulder.” - Sam Wormwood

“I was just a rough and bruised country girl lookin' for a fight 'til I met her. And all of a sudden, as she pressed her lips 'gainst mine and told me I was loved, it felt as if my bruises and scars were healin', fadin' away like stars as the sun gently wraps it's arms 'round the pale orange sky.” - Morice Bronzinheit

“We're all burdened souls, buildin' up our strength ta lift the weight'a the world. But we never realize that we don't oughta do it alone. Ya see, we git this idea that our burdens are ours ta carry, and ta have another help us lift that weight would be selfish. But those who love ya are always willin' ta stand by your side and relieve ya of the burdens that leave ya crippled, gaspin' for air in an empty heart.” - Morice Bronzinheit

“I'll never come ta understand why folk choose ta succumb ta rage and cruelty, but he who pulls the trigger ta end a life's no soldier. Just a killer dressed in noble intentions.” - Morice Bronzinheit

“Home ain't some place you can go. It's found in the eyes'a love, in the hearts'a family. It ain't where you're born, it's where you felt like you could truly live." - Morice Bronzinheit

“It seems his flickering smile follows me wherever I go, and when I look into my eyes, it's his I see.” - Pamvera Wendellburn

“Every now and then, my sorrow comes for me. There is no end, nor a beginning, just circles and circles of sorrow as I dance my way around the edge of misery.” - Pamvera Wendellburn

“I sit like a softly spoken sorrow at the bottom of my ribcage, weeds and black rot growing out from my promises, out from my lies, until I can hardly call myself a garden with all this decay in me.” - Pamvera Wendellburn

“Being who I am's such a lonely, quiet thing. It feels as if I'm cursed to this circle of sorrow and remembrance. And whiskey was always easier to swallow then the idea that I'd never return to myself. Easier to swallow then the tears, the grief, the anger.” - Pamvera Wendellburn

“All my life, I've been a bruised knuckled, broken glass kind of woman, anger running like blood through her veins, fist always curled back, jaw always clenched. Because life was a fight and I'd spent my days losing.” - Avarell Boneson

“I'm an angry serenade, followed by the slight echoes of peace. But as my daughter wraps a blanket around my scarred shoulders, and tells me I'm her hero, it feels as if I've always had a place in this world. And it's to protect that girl, full of spunk and curiosity for a world that don't leave girls like her be.” - Avarell Boneson

“I've always been a fighter, but what becomes of the warrior when she's no more battles left to fight? When she's no more reasons to throw her fists?” - Avarell Boneson

“I've lived my life in a violent blackout, and I've hardly been who I am. But as I hum my daughter another lullaby, and my sister tells me I'm her hero, it feels as if I'm falling together into a person that's me. I've been cold steel and wildfire smoke for too long. I just want to be the peaceful melody that lulls my anger to sleep. But my rage sits in my curled up fist, and as I clench my jaw and prepare for another battle, I know life's not through with this wounded warrior yet. So I put rage into the chamber of my revolver and let it fly." - Avarell Boneson

“You know, my brother used to tell me that he's met death a thousand times, and as the world began to fall, I began to wonder if it was all the ghosts he'd met, falling like angels from the wounded and burning sky.” - Ash Plucker

“I used to fight who I am, my knuckles bloodied from wars I never should've fought. Because hiding from yourself is such a strange, accepted kind of misery. But as I cut my hair and traded my dresses for a leather jacket and old, torn jeans, I felt like I was slowly beginning to become me. I'd always known I wasn't a girl, but I'd never wanted to be a man either. So I'll just exist, I'll be me, and that's all I ever really needed to be, huh?” - Ash Plucker

“Cruelty never had a place in this world. It echoes on the tips of bad men's tongues, justifying it's existence by claiming it's name is survival. But if you cast it's shawl aside, you'll soon realize blood for blood was always just cruelty in disguise.” - Ash Plucker

“I've spent my whole life trying to avoid this person I am, tripping over identities that weren't me, covering my face with paint to kill the scars that whisper the story of how the joyful girl died. I've got a heart made of cracked and fragile glass, and whenever someone dares whisper who I am, it crumbles into my stomach and I bleed on these pieces of my heart.” - Amorith Vesbly

“I've never known peace, all but when Heather touches a rough hand against my cheek and tells me I'm hers'. She loves me as I am, and just as the sun loves the moon, she's here for me in all my phases, loving whichever emotion chooses to rear it's head and bare it's teeth. If it weren't for her, I'd be long gone, drifting away into the empty just to avoid this person I am. But she makes this heart of mine a bit less lonely of a place to hide.” - Amorith Vesbly

“I wish I was a war cry, but I'm just a fragile whisper, and the only ones that can hear me are the ones that care enough to listen. To everyone else, I'm just a ghost sitting on the edge of her identity, as if she wanted to leap, but didn't have the courage to fall.” - Amorith Vesbly

“I swear, those I loved follow me like ghosts in the smoke, and just as I close my eyes and think I'm okay, I find myself fading away into memories too close to forget, but too far away to crawl back to.” - Amalda Greene

“I'm haunted by the heat on my skin, by the smoke and cinders in my lungs. My mind's becoming a grave, haunted by my memories ever drifting, and no matter where I go, I can't escape this ghost of who I've become. My mom would tell me to put it all behind me, put on a brave face and think of better days. But honestly? I don't think better days are coming.” - Amalda Greene

“Life ain't just some sorrow bloody repeated, it's every mistake ya made on the way ta success.” - Vinceta Dallifritz

“We're all questions ta ourselves until we earn da courage ta find da bloody answer.” - Vinceta Dallifritz

“Power, I've learned, makes inhuman monstahs outta 'umanity, moldin' the good like clay, wettin' it's hands in the blood'a da merciful until da peace is no more.” - Vinceta Dallifritz

“I once looked to da skies and asked for somebody ta shatter me so I could become somebody new. And out of these broken pieces, I built somebody worth bloody bein'.” - Vinceta Dallifritz

“Some people want to stick to lies, just as lies have stuck to them, but we can't really find peace if we're at constant war with the truth.” - Rust Ashena

“In truth, I'm not made of stone. My bones are fragile and easy to break, my emotions whir like glass in my head, and my hands are scarred with blood and broken nails. But I'm a soldier.” - Rust Ashena

“In all this war, in all this pain, I must at least remember, I've got people who fight for me. In my garden of black petaled roses and problems, a single rose stands, like a bloom of red I'll never come to understand. When Camallo pulls me into his embrace and tells me he'll never let go, I know that at least in his love, I'm safe. He holds me while I fall apart, threading my stitches back together as I begin to unravel. Often, I feel six foot under all this doubt, all this pain, all these scars, but Camallo's always there, shovel in hand, ready to dig away at the mourning man's grave.” - Rust Ashena

“On the edge of the horizon, I see a silver lining, and I start to believe it looks like his smile, like the way his fingers curl into mine, like the way he looks at my scars as if they were a beautiful tattoo telling the story of the way I died and was born again.” - Rust Ashena

“I was just an x value I couldn't understand, trying to catch my answers in the wind as lies drifted on by. But it feels like, when Melania took my hand in hers' and told me she loved me for the very first time, I'd finally found the answer to who I wanted to be. When she pressed her lips against mine, everything began to fall into place, every question became an answer, all the unknown became known, as if my heart had always known what it needed.” - Glorice Shaywalker

“It's not the bruises that matter, or the scars, but how we let them heal.” - Glorice Shaywalker

“I'll always remember the way the gunfire echoes and ripples, as if it was a stone skipping across a lake of all the lives it would touch.” - Nyla Riverbrook

“I heard once, that she who fights for the world is very rarely fought for, and as I struggle to get to my feet, I've come to learn no one's fighting for me, and it's my own feeble fists I must raise.” - Nyla Riverbrook

“My ribs are etched with what it took to survive, my tongue wet with the blood that fills my mouth when I bite down on my tongue to keep these emotions in my skull.” - Nyla Riverbrook

“My body's a battlefield, and my heart beat sounds like a bullet casing hitting against the crimson river.” - Nyla Riverbrook

“A man I look up to once told me that we're not strong, just broken, trying to carry the weight of the world with two human hands. And as my sister looks at me, swearing up and down I'm her hero, I begin to realize heroes exist only in the eyes of those who haven't tasted war on the edge of their tongue.” - Nyla Riverbrook

“I used to be a question to the world, lost in doubt and visions of who I could be. But as I embraced myself, and found my answer hidden deep in my little beating heart, I knew this is who I was meant to be. People ask us to change while they stay the same, lost in ignorance and hate until it becomes the air in their lungs and the tears in their eyes.” - Amanda Blaze

“I was lost, stumbling in the dark, until the light of my identity flashed like a torch in the horizon. It was only for a moment, like a whisper, but it was enough for me to follow the memory of the warmth and light I felt when I was accepted as I am.” - Amanda Blaze

“Love lives in all of us like a seed, and we're just waiting for someone to come along, not afraid to get their hands dirty as they dig through our identity and scars with loving, gentle human fingers.” - Amanda Blaze

"I watched all my friends become strangers, and I'm just sitting here in their shadow wondering why I couldn't save them from the darker side of life. But I guess monsters always look at us with eyes we sadly recognize." - Jess Mercikal

“We're all looking for someone who makes us feel safe and comfortable in who we are, and when I look into my daughter's eyes, and I feel my wife's hands on my cheeks, I know I've found my safety. And I'll never find myself falling without knowing I'll survive the landing.” - Alicia Winnefred

“Life can seem so complicated, but all it takes to live is a few simple things that make you, you.” - Alicia Winnefred

“Some people say we die much before we ever live, but if you've done it right, than as you lay down for your final rest, you'll have lived, and lived, and lived, and in some odd, beautiful little essence, you'll never die. Because flowers will bloom on your grave, and that's where you'll sit, like a smile that never forgot the sorrow that made it shine so bright." - Alicia Winnefred

“I am a lie so often told, and in the pen of sheep I sit, draped in white wool with dapples of red, waiting for the opportunity to rip my teeth through the feeble skin of truth.” - Akolzo Cometsphire

“My heart never beat, my mind never felt. The rare times I did, feel, was in the emotion that rippled in a dying man's eyes.” - Akolzo Cometsphire

“The sheep is easily fooled into thinking he's safe, because so often wolves wear wool on their backs and kindness in their smiles, hiding the blood behind their fangs and murder behind a handshake.” - Akolzo Cometsphire

“I'm just a little spider, spinning his web and watching in glee as the fly finds himself caught, struggling and festering like murder flashed on the newspaper headline's. With hungry fangs and blood filled eyes, I descend on the weary fools caught in my web of lies, sinking my teeth into their skin and ripping scars into their minds as I taste them, like a tragedy on my lips.” - Akolzo Cometsphire

“My friend, gaze to the midnight sky and tell me what you see. Stars, twinkling with wishes, or specters of something that was once beautiful, shining in the dark like a grave marked with a corpse instead of stone? And then, I want you to look into my eyes, and tell me what the night sky means to a man who spills blood as if it were ink on a page, spilling into poetry and prose. I'm a vessel through which murder and lies see. Nothing more." - Akolzo Cometsphire

"Mercy is a fool's game for a cruel man." - Bovine Thukkit

"The most fearful foe of all is the one that haunts you with a long dead friend's smile." - Maxmillius Sharonbew

"Boy, you think that was death? You ain't met death 'til ya've felt her fragile, cold fingers on the edges'a your back and spine. You ain't met death until she stares back atcha with cracked glass eyes as ya look inta the old mirra. Death, Martin fucking Hatcherfly, tasted like barbed wire, bitin' down on a thirsty tongue." - Apollo Dreadful

"My anger claws at me feral, like a woman raised by wolves. Biting, clawing, scratching at the corners of my heart and skull, as if her teeth were made to kill and her claws were made of steel. And there's somethin' so temptin' about the beauty of the anger that lost it's peace in the gentle maw of wolves." - Kurizo Chandlewick

"The dark came in quiet whispers and deadly screams, as if the sky had ripped into itself, thrashin' and howlin' with the light of a thousand dyin' dreams. And that's what his shadow looks like. Them wolves are lightnin' strikes in our sky, and he's just the heavy clouds full with rain and thunder." - Miallo Strawburry

[hoodoo12]

Beetlejuice Squared 2:  You Asked For It (1/3)

Yinz are thirsty for this and I absolutely love it. As requested, this features the same characters from Beetlejuice Squared (read here), heavy on the Blumjuice.  Also, just to remind, this one will feature your (you, the audience’s) choice of ending. I’ll provide more details to that when we get closer to it. Word count is ~7000, not including the endings.  (Much and many thanks to @beejiesbitch! Reading through this, catching my typos, making suggestions that in turn made me cackle: every second you helped was much appreciated! 💖) @beetlebitchywitch @beetlejuicebeadoll @sapphic-florals @turtlepated @realmonsterboyhours @monsterlovinghours @witchyrem-ains @beebeyjuice NSFW. Beetlejuice/f!reader. Adult language and hardcore, heavy smut. Enjoy!

You wiped your eyes and nose. You were so sick of crying! At first you couldn’t stop because you felt like you were in the bottom of a hole, where it was dark, and sadness crushed you. But recently, something shifted inside you. Sadness was still there, the pathetic animal that it was, but a new beast reared its head. You were so angry about crying this much!

You didn’t need to feel sorry for yourself! It wasn’t your fault! It was his. You shouldn’t be crying over him. You weren’t crying over him any more! Besides, you didn’t need him. He left, but you didn’t need to be alone. As a matter of fact--

With a shake, you pushed yourself off your bed. You stripped the dirty sheets that you’d been crying into for so long, that still held a faint whiff of him. Earlier you hadn’t wanted to change them so you could still pretend that he was still around, but now? Fuck it. You balled up the sheets tightly, took great pleasure in punching them for a second, and dropped them down the laundry chute imagining the entire time it was him. After the bed was tidied with fresh sheets you cleaned yourself, using so much hot water you were surprised it didn’t run out. Leisurely you blew dry your hair. You went through your closet and scrutinized each bit of lingerie you owned, before settling on a black bra and panty set with white lace trim, a matching garter belt, and some black and white striped stockings. Over all that, you slipped into a black dress designed for clubbing and applied some light makeup. Finally looking presentable and feeling human again, you smiled to yourself. You didn’t need him. With your mouth still stretched into a grin, you called, “Bheteljuz, Bheteljuz, Bheteljuz!”

⁂ ⁂ ⁂ 

With the same flash that had burnt out your retinas before, he appeared in front of you. “Oh my god! Babydoll!” he exclaimed, excitement lilting his voice and lighting his face.

He held his arms out for a hug and you stepped into him, wrapping your arms where they were comfortable, around his waist, pressing your cheek against the tie on his chest. Beetlejuice 2.0--not that you would ever say that nickname aloud--hugged you tightly back, resting the side of his chin on your head. “Hi Beej,” you muttered into his shirt.

After standing in the embrace for an amount of time that would’ve been awkward if you both hadn’t already been naked together, it naturally paused. Not moving away, you looked up at him, dislodging his chin. “I’m glad you came.” “Of course I came, babydoll! You whistle and I come running! My name from your lips--it just makes me gooey on the inside and I can’t get here fast enough,” he said with a wink, then glanced up and around the room. “Where’s the short asshole version of me?” You wiggled your arm out from under his to take his jaw so he’d look down at you again. “He’s not here,” you said, and were pretty damn proud this time tears didn’t fill your eyes. “And he’s not coming back. His is an asshole, and after I found out--” You cut yourself off before explaining more by pinching your lips together; the wound was still fresh. “--doesn’t matter,” you finished instead, with a shrug. “I told him to fuck off and kicked him out, and decided I’d rather get to know you better.”

Beetlejuice’s eyes were bright. “Am I a rebound for you, babydoll? Is this rebound sex? Are you getting back at him? Because--” Immediately you protested, no, no it wasn’t, you hadn’t stopped thinking about him since the last time, you really did want to get to know him better, it didn’t have anything to do with him, he wasn’t coming back--

Beetlejuice leaned down and put his mouth right next to your ear as you babbled.

“--because I’m totally cool with that,” he finished in a husky whisper. He pulled back enough that you could see the smirk on his face, and then his mouth covered yours and his tongue was between your lips.  

⁂ ⁂ ⁂

There was desire and glee in that kiss, all flavored with a base note of desperation. This Beetlejuice took great pleasure in keeping you held tightly against him. You didn’t fight him on it; you’d missed the taste of him, and he was taller, so it was like something new but familiar at the same time.

This time, however, not being stoned made everything sharper. You’d never noticed his teeth were just a smidge less pointed as he nipped greedily at your neck, or his hands so much larger as they roamed your body. You were steadier on your feet, too, so standing tip toe wasn’t as taxing as it’d been before. Your hands returned the favor over his body, petting from shoulders to lower back to ass to crotch, squeezing him and groaning in anticipation.

It was obvious what you’d wanted, so he didn’t hesitate to flick away your scrap of a dress. His eyes widened at what you’d chosen to wear underneath, however. “You dressed up for me, babydoll?” he murmured, his black-nailed fingers following the edge of your garter belt, around your hip to where it hugged you at the small of your back.

“I wanted to look nice,” you agreed. “Something special.”

Beetlejuice smirked again, muttering something about how even that much clothing was going to get in the way. You grabbed him by the tie and yanked him downward, kissing his open mouth as he gasped. Then you took him by the hand and led him to the bedroom.

Once there, when you turned around again, you couldn’t help but laugh in surprise: he’d shed his suit without your knowledge and was wearing only striped boxer briefs. “Something special,” he announced, gesturing theatrically to himself.

You had to agree with his earlier assessment that even that one piece of clothing was too much.

Falling onto the bed, you ravished him.

You spent an inordinate amount of time sucking and playing with his nipples. You discovered you could just barely fit the tip of your tongue under the ouroboros shields and strum them lightly. Beetlejuice mewled with each tug on them and occasionally, when you took a larger chunk of his flesh around his nipple between your teeth but still continued to flick at his piercings, he grabbed the back of your head and held you in place, crying out more loudly.

When you finally left off his chest, both nipples were deeply colored, stiff, and shiny from spit. Your chin on his sternum, you grinned up at him before continuing down his belly.

You left a wide path of wet suction marks though the hair on his abdomen, winding your way down to his groin with no set pattern. Like the time before, he seemed a little sensitive, like this attention was just shy of being overwhelming. You could feel the tension in his thighs as you settled further between his legs.

There was a damp patch on his underwear and his erection strained the fabric. You stroked him through the barrier of his underwear for a second, before looking back up at him. Beetlejuice watched you with dark, lust-blown eyes. He’d hiked himself up on his elbows for a better view. “What’ll it be, Beej? Mouth or tits?” you asked him, although you didn’t exactly give him a fair chance to answer when you mouthed his shaft through the fabric.

He jerked a little at such a minor touch, and reached down to brush some of your hair out of your face. He followed that gesture with cupping your jaw, so you couldn’t drop your head to tease him again. “If I say both is that going to make me sound too much like a slut?” he asked in return.

You laughed and replied, “Not at all. I like that you know what you want,” and stripped him of his underwear before he could just snap it away. He returned the favor by making your bra disappear. You settled back between his thighs. His cock rested stiffly against his belly. A small bead of pre-come was already re-forming at the tip, and the line of hair that led from his belly button to his groin had taken on a decidedly pink hue. After taking all that in, you glanced up at him to find him still watching you with bated breath. His tongue touched the corner of his lip, but he was frozen besides that.

Keeping eye contact with him, you raised an eyebrow to him and smirked, then dipped your head and dragged your tongue up the underside of his cock. He gave a breathy, almost silent moan. When you reached the head, you lapped the pre-come from the slit delicately. He repeated the sound. Then, still watching him watch you, you opened your mouth, licked your lips, and swallowed him.

Because his cock was dry, you didn’t make it all the way to the base, but Beetlejuice didn’t restrain himself and jerked, driving it to your throat. As he was slightly lengthier than him, the Beetlejuice you’d kicked out of your life, it made you retch just a little before you could control the reaction.

When you had yourself under control, you glanced up at him but didn’t wipe the tears that had come to your eyes away. “Sorry not sorry, babydoll,” Beetlejuice told you. You rolled your eyes and sucked him, hard, as a response. He jerked again, involuntarily, but you were ready for it this time and chuckled around his cock.

Then you blew him in earnest, sucking and licking and occasionally keeping him so deep in your throat that your nose was crushed into his now vibrantly pink pubic hair. You liked holding him there until you had to pull off with a gasp because your lungs demanded air. You stroked him by hand too, for variety; holding the base of his cock while your mouth worked the head, twisting and pulling when you gave your jaw a break. In short order, his entire groin was dripping with spit. The lower part of your face was too. Through it all, Beetlejuice groaned and gasped. He trembled and once, when you glanced up, you saw that he didn’t know what to do with his hands: they clenched the air, then his outer thighs. With your free hand you grabbed one of his and directed it to the back of your head. Immediately his fingers tightened in your hair, pulling it a little. You gave him an appreciative little groan to encourage him more, and he took the hint. He pulled and released, and you followed his non-verbal directions, moving up and down his cock in time with his hand, at the pace he dictated. When his fingers became too tight and his hand immobile during another deep moment and his moans ratcheted upward, you fought against his quickly approaching, inevitable end by shaking your head minutely to dislodge his grip and dragging your mouth off him. A thin string of saliva bridged between his cock and your lower lip.

Beetlejuice cried out at the sudden lack of stimulation and opened his eyes, staring at you for a moment in a mixture of disbelief and relief.

“Shit, babydoll, your mouth is fucking amazing--” he started to say, but you didn’t give him much time recover. You hiked yourself up to kneel over him, pushed his cock between the valley of your tits, and rocked to fuck him that way too.

There was so much wetness on his cock it lubed your skin. He curled a little, at his core, and grabbed you over your own hands, pinching them and your skin too hard, crying out as his cock plowed between your tits. Looking up at him you saw his hair was deep magenta, his eyes screwed shut and his mouth open; his moan undulated as pleasure wracked him. You dropped your chin to swirl your tongue around the head of his cock and he stilled abruptly--

--with no warning you threw yourself backwards away from him. His moan choked into almost a sob as once again he was left hanging on the cusp of coming. This time had been closer; his cock, deeply flushed, bobbed against his lower belly ominously.

One of his hands went towards it. It was an involuntary reaction, you knew, but you grabbed his wrist and kept it away from his cock nonetheless.

Beetlejuice’s eyes opened, looking slightly vacant. “Fucking hell,” he croaked.

“Are you sorry I stopped?”

His gaze dropped to yours and sharpened. “Not at fucking all, babydoll. I needed a break. I want to return the favor--”

And in the next blink, you found your positions reversed: you flat on your back and Beetlejuice between your legs. Your panties had disappeared too, leaving you with just your garter belt and stockings. He shoved his hands under your ass to lift your hips a bit, and grinned up at you, keeping eye contact while he kissed the skin above your stocking on your inner thigh. You recognized that smirk; you’d given the same to him before you’d gone down on him. It made your breath catch in your throat.

“Your pussy smells so sweet, babydoll,” he murmured, and dropped his mouth onto you.

Just as he had, you gave an involuntary jerk and gasp. Beetlejuice ate you out like this was a competition and he was vying for the championship title. No dainty, perfunctory licks like was shown in some porn before the real action started. He was sloppy, using his entire mouth to engulf you while shoving his tongue deep inside your pussy. He dragged his tongue in a wide solid line through your folds. He nuzzled in and found your clit; when he sucked a bit too hard on it, you cried out more sharply in borderline pain and yanked roughly on his hair. He immediately backed off to blow gently on the sensitive nub instead. You writhed at that treatment, and, having learned your boundary, the tip of his tongue lapped at your clit instead.

Between the waves of pleasure that were threatening to drag you under, you somehow managed to pick up your head and look down at him. Although back to being tongue deep in your pussy, Beetlejuice glanced up and caught your eyes.

“You taste so fucking good,” his voice said, in your ear. It was smoother, more like raw silk than the gravel you were so used to with him, and you shivered. His thrown voice continued. “I could eat your pussy for hours, babydoll. Would you like that? Would you like my tongue to fuck you, would you like my lips to tease your clit till you were crying? I wouldn’t edge you. I’d make you come over and over until you lost your voice--”

You felt you were on the verge of that already, having moaned and gasped the entire time he’d been at your groin.

“--that’s be so delicious, babydoll, I’d like to lick up all your wet, I’d drink it all down if you squirted on my face--”

His wicked tongue--both physically and metaphorically--sent you over the edge. You did lose your voice for a moment, wheezing as you ran out of breath because the orgasm he drew out of you started as an explosion but stretched long and thin.

When you were finally able to focus on the real world again, Beetlejuice hadn’t moved from between your legs. He still glanced up at you, and his tongue was more gentle, slipping along your pussy now, but he continued to whisper in your ear.

“That was fucking beautiful, babydoll. You taste so good. Some people think it’s not fair that women can come multiple times in a row, but I like it, because I like being able to give them to you. Ready for another, babydoll? Want my fingers in you?”

He didn’t wait for an answer, which was good because you wouldn’t have been able to reply anyway. You felt his fingers delve through your pussy, collecting the mixture of his spit and your juices before dipping inside your cunt. You arched your back and cried out as he opened you up, and when he began finger fucking you in earnest while using the tip of his tongue to make circles around your clit, you couldn’t control yourself as another orgasm rushed you.

Your legs snapped as shut as they could around his head and your hand once again tightened in his hair as you came once again. You also couldn’t prevent yourself from canting your pelvis to grind down on him at the same time, and over the blood pounding in your ears you heard his disembodied voice chuckle.

This time as you gradually relaxed and drifted back to reality, your limbs shook.

Beetlejuice was still stationed between your legs, ready to dive back in, but you needed a break. Gently, you pushed his head away. Your hand came off his head with strands of pink hair caught between your fingers; you’d yanked some of it out during the force of your orgasm, and you hadn’t even realized it.

“Sorry, Beej!” you apologized in horror.

“Don’t worry, babydoll, it’s nothing,” he replied with a grin to assure you. “I fucking loved that you couldn’t control yourself. Losing a bit of hair is a price I’m willing to pay for you coming on my mouth.”

He grinned at you, then crawled his way back up your torso. Laying belly to belly as he supported himself on his elbows, you wrapped your arms around his neck to pull him closer. His mouth tasted like your pussy and you sucked the flavor of yourself off his tongue like you were sucking his cock. While he was distracted, you dropped your hands from his back to his front, slipping them gently between your chests to tweak his nipple shields again. Beetlejuice gasped and jerked, then groaned. He looked down his chest to watch your fingers play. He dragged his eyes away from what you were doing to say, “I wanna fuck you, babydoll. Is that . . . is that all right?”

He sounded so concerned. Like there was the possibility you were going to say no. You cupped his cheek. “Beej,” you told him, trying to convey sheer sincerity, “I want you to fuck me.”

He lit up then, as if he had seriously thought you were going to banish him back to the Netherworld with blue balls. Still, he fretted, “It’s just . . . just . . . I don’t get called on often, people call on the short asshole version of me because they want him more, and--”

You shushed him with a kiss before saying, “Haven’t you been paying attention? I called you here because I want you. Okay?”

He nodded quickly, like he was worried you’d get upset if he didn’t agree. He was such an odd mix of dirty and sweet. You decided you liked it. “So then . . .” you prompted, rocking your hips as best you could under him. The movement made his cock shift a little from where it pressed against your pubic bone. When he didn’t adjust himself quickly enough, you slipped your hand between your belly and his to give him a suggestive shove on his hip to move him lower. He lifted himself and complied, but seemed content to watch your hand do all the work positioning him correctly. He gave a soft moan as you ran your hand down his cock, then followed your hand with his eyes as you brought it back to your mouth to coat your palm in saliva before grasping and stroking him again. His moan was louder with that and you grinned. You wanted to hear it even louder.

Taking the base of his cock and holding him steady, you urged him forward with a gentle tug. The head of his cock slipped inside you then and, once started, he continued smoothly until he was sheathed deep in your cunt. You got your wish: Beetlejuice moaned the loudest at that. So did you.

He hesitated for a moment. You couldn’t tell why; he didn’t need to catch his breath because he didn’t have any. Then it dawned on you he paused for you, you were panting. His length inside you felt delicious, fucking divine, and you told him so. “Fuck, Beej, your cock--it’s so good, so good, please, please fucking fuck me--!” Maybe it wasn’t the most poetic, articulate sentence in the world, but it got your point across.

Beetlejuice grinned and started. His smile faded almost immediately, replaced by a slack jaw and a tongue that occasionally dragged itself over his lower lip. His moans were deep, reverberating in his chest. He thrust into you with single-minded determination, like once again he was afraid you were going to send him away mid-fuck. You’d have slowed him down, tried to make him realize there wasn’t any danger being banished. You’d learned from the other one to curtail your natural tendency to call out his name during sex. But feeling his cock so deep inside you, the friction he created as he thrust, him burying his face in the side of your neck and taking a hunk of skin between his teeth like that was grounding him--all of that increased your pleasure. He’d made you come twice already, which always primed you for more. You found yourself begging for his cock, pleading with him to fuck you harder, please Beej, harder, fuck me harder--

As little as you’d done, and even with the break he’d gotten, you’d teased and edged him too long. He accommodated your requests as best he could, but not long after he started he shoved himself as deeply as he could into your pussy. A sudden stillness came over him. You grabbed him at his waist and ass, squeezing, continuing to try and rock up onto him. He gave a small, involuntary judder of his hips, and gave the deepest moan yet as he came inside you. He was motionless for a moment as euphoria dragged him under, then he collapsed atop you. His weight, now fully pressing his pubic bone against your clit while his cock still throbbed the last stage of his ejaculation inside your pussy, was enough to make you tumble off the edge too. You came hard, holding him tightly as your pussy clenched around him. Beetlejuice felt it too, and gasped next to your ear. Then you were both trembling messes, in the afterglow. You made no move to push him off you. You held him in place and combed your fingers through his hair while you tried to catch your breath. Beetlejuice kissed the spot on your neck he’d grabbed with his teeth, and sighed contentedly. When he finally did unstick himself from your chest, he groaned as he pulled out of you. You did too. Even dripping with his come, you felt empty without his cock inside you. Beetlejuice lay down beside you and stared at the ceiling. You groped for his hand and laced your fingers between his, happy this evening had been so good. “So what did happen between you and him, babydoll?” he finally asked, breaking the silence. “I’m not complaining you called me up, but for everyone else, he’s their main squeeze.” If you hadn’t been in such a blissed out state, or if he hadn’t hit the nail on the head, you might not have answered. But as it was . . . “That was the problem. He’s their ‘main squeeze’,” you spat, using finger quotes around the last two words. “I found out he was fucking around on me!” Beetlejuice picked up his head and cocked an eyebrow at you. You continued. “He’s been fucking all these other people! Men, women, whoever! He’d just go and fuck them however they wanted, and, and didn’t think anything of it--”

“You know that’s what I--we--do, right, babydoll?” Beetlejuice asked. “People summon me--us--and we go. It’s part of the whole ‘say my name three times’ thing. Did you think you were exclusive?” You glared at him, a little. “Yeah. Yeah, kind of,” you admitted. “He always came back here. I assumed I was the one he wanted to stay with--” “Assumed?” Beetlejuice interrupted quietly. “You can’t assume anything when you’re dealing with a ghost or a demon. We like things--and it’s in your best interest to make things--very clear.”

You sighed at his damn logic. “Well, it doesn’t matter now. I kicked him out. I don’t want to be some notch on a bedpost, just some random lay. Or worse than that, just some place holder till something better comes along.” “Am I some random lay to you, babydoll? Am I a place holder?” he asked, his voice even more quiet. You looked over at him. He looked a combination of resigned of his lot in life but with the faintest air of hopefully eager that maybe, just maybe, he’d gotten luckier this time. His hair was shot through with purple. He was so similar to but different than the Beetlejuice you’d told to fuck off, and you realized you really did like him, minor insecurity and all.

“I’d like to think it’s not,” you admitted to him. “I liked tonight. Would you like to stay?” A smile broke over his face. “I’d like that a lot, babydoll! I think we’d make a great pair--”

He leaned in to kiss you sweetly on the mouth. Your hand automatically came up to his jaw, and your tongues explored each other. You were still mostly naked but felt flushed. Realizing that you couldn’t handle the other Beetlejuice’s popularity and reputation had turned out to be fortuitous. You’d enjoyed what you’d done tonight. You enjoyed summoning and having a good time with this Beetlejuice and, selfishly, you hoped he did too and would want to stick around. You were just about to say something more, something sappy, but from the other room a familiar voice that sounded like sandpaper in your ears called out, “Hey honey, I’m home!”

tbc . . .

[secretgiftsforshaman]

I was an emotional vampire when I was a child. The memories and pieces of evidence have been slowly rising to the surface, and I think I’ve finally pieced them together. While I still have my moments, I’m (usually) much less of a vampire now than I once was. I haven’t examined how, exactly, I managed to become less vampiric over time without consciously seeking to do so. Maybe I just got used to feeling unfulfilled and unloved and accepted that that’s how it would be. Maybe I just kept putting it off until some future day when hopefully it’d be better somehow. I need to reflect on this more, but right now I just need to get this out.

My grandmother often smothered my mom with affection when she was little – it was one of grandma’s ways of trying to fill her own unmet emotional needs, by treating mom like she was her own personal little cuddly teddy-bear play dolly, and expecting the same sickly-sweet treatment back from my mom, even as a toddler, even when she was her own kind of ravenous black hole and only doled out that “affection” because she expected something in return. I think that mom then reacted to that treatment by swinging to the other extreme when I came along, being overly distant, withholding, and resentful of my emotional needs (they reminded her too much of her own – as her firstborn I was her first experience of another person being 1000% dependent on her, and I think it triggered all kinds of shit from her relationship with her own mother, both where I was her and she was grandma, and where she was herself and I was grandma) and she didn’t want to smother me with affection the way she had been. However or whyever it came about, she definitely went too far in that opposite direction. I have no memories of feeling cherished by my mother, or of cuddling together without her acting resentfully and sending me back to my own bed as soon as possible, or of her ever expressing belief or confidence in me and my abilities (part the root of why I struggle to perform any new or intimidating task, I think). As I’ve said before and will keep saying aloud until I have finished integrating, processing, and healing it: I was emotionally neglected, abandoned, and abused, and sometimes I still am. While I’ve lived in material privilege and had all of my basic physical/survival needs met with some material luxuries to boot, I never felt like I had enough of the love, acceptance, and touch that I needed from the very earliest age. This emotional connection is a vital nutrient for the soul, the psyche, and the body – and an emotionally starving child in need of attention, affection, and approval will latch onto anything and anyone that feels like it/they can give them a scrap or two with which to survive. I’ve felt like a gaping, needy, black hole of pain and rejection eating myself from the inside out my entire life and never really been able to explain why until now.

There are all manner of embarrassing memories I’ve been dredging up of how I acted as a kid, and I don’t have enough conscious detail to explain them like stories, but I can feel the energetic reality of all those episodes. They contain the same patterns and themes, they stretch back as far as I remember, and they occur at every age of childhood, adolescence, and young adulthood without intermission. Time and again I latched onto people, be they other kids, warm or parental adults, classmates, crushes, even random strangers: just anybody who was energetically compatible with or susceptible to my ravenous, desperate needs that I might be able to tag along after, attempt to adopt or ingratiate myself to, or mooch off of. If it worked, it worked poorly, and it didn’t work for very long, and as a result very few of my peers wanted to be friends with me for most of my life. I’ve explained away this ‘social awkwardness’ pattern as just part of my Asperger’s for years, but I’ve been coming to realize that while part of it may have been autism-typical misunderstandings of other people’s social cues, the other part of me was manipulative and leech-like and would overstep other people’s boundaries because I didn’t know how to connect to people and receive the attention I needed otherwise (because my own social boundaries weren’t respected – I rarely had boundary honoring behavior modeled for me at home).

This helps account for why I’ve felt so rejected from all quarters. Of course nobody wants to ask the emotional vampire to play with them, or invite them over to hang out, or flirt with them. Of course I fell hard for the narrative that the right romantic knight-in-shining-armor would feed that gaping hungry maw of lovelessness inside of me and got hyperfixated on finding a boy, and later a man, to help me fill in that hole. And of course I am now afraid of expressing my attraction to anyone, especially romantically or sexually: I am both afraid of mockery and rejection, but I also struggle with distinguishing intense attraction from my inner soul-sucking emotional leech.

This is a big part of why I am terrified of expressing my needs and desires: I have hurt people and rightfully driven them away from me with my behavior and treatment of them in the past, and the conflict between wanting that connection with someone, particularly a potential partner, and latching onto them in a way that hurts/upsets/repulses them is what has been agonizing me about reaching out and starting to flirt and date again. The newer loneliness of grief and widowhood feels all too similar to that old gaping hole of emotional neglect, and I fear that I can’t accept ANY connection, affection, touch, or love to fill my need without hurting the person giving them to me. Even in our relationship, while I have gradually become more secure and trusting, I think that this is the root fear that has made me worry at times that I have asked too much from you or taken too much from you.

Maybe I stopped being a vampire because it didn’t get me what I needed so I just stopped doing it, but (as I’m typing this and reflecting on it and realizing) I think I mostly just drew the conclusion that there was something inherently unworthy of love and acceptance within me, and became ashamed of the misguided ways that I had tried to seek out love and acceptance. I started to accept that I’d be better off not trying because if so many people had rejected me then it must be because they could all see my obvious unworthiness, so it would be foolish and pathetic for me to seek something that would never be mine – that was so laughably beyond my reach – like love or intimacy. Let alone acting like someone could actively desire or want me – that would be so beyond the pale as to draw ridicule. At one point or another I’ve managed to convince myself that asking someone for anything (friendship, attention, reassurance, compliments, a glass of water, I mean ANYTHING) is actually me just trying to manipulate or leech off of that person, whether it’s through vampirism or a bald-faced request. So the only solution to this mess is to fulfill as much of my needs and desires as I can for myself, and reject the rest because turning to another person for assistance will only harm them, drive them away, or both.

I know that my younger, starving child self was only acting out of instinct to survive the neglect and abuse that she suffered – that she didn’t know any better and she never fed on anybody in malice or out of any intent to do harm. But I’m afraid of my own inner child, of my own ongoing neediness and hunger for connection. I’m terrified that I’ll hurt someone by taking too much from them, that I’ll ask for more than they want to give, that nobody will be able to meet me emotionally. Or WANT to meet me emotionally. I’m trying to hold out hope that my future mate, wherever he his, will want to love me – will not see love as the scarce, precious commodity that my inner traumatized child experienced it as, but that he (and I) can and will both treat love like the bottomless fountain that it is. That it will bring him joy and pleasure to pour buckets of love back into me, that he’ll bail me in when I’m feeling hollow and dry, and I will relish the privilege of doing the same for him. My closest friends and I have begun to do something like this with each other, and it is such a healing thing.

I am trying to keep faith in my worthiness. I am trying to forgive myself for acting as best as I could in terrible situations where I felt next to powerless. I hope that I can disentangle my inner bloodsucker from my honest needs, learn to express my desire and attraction to others in harmless and healthy ways, no matter how intense they feel, and that I can reprogram all that shit in my head about needing to emotionally starve myself because to slake that thirst would hurt someone.

It’s 1:30 AM and I desperately need sleep. And maybe some garlic, holy water, or a crucifix.

Thank you for loving and accepting and holding space for me and all of my mess. I sincerely hope that you never feel unappreciated – you do so much for me just by existing as a good, honorable man. Your presence is a healing balm in and of itself. And you are this way because of your integrity and character. Connecting to your energy is calming and soothing even when you aren’t able listen or respond. Never forget how good and powerful you are. I believe in you and everything that you embody and do.

All my love,

My Vulnerable Parts

[youngerdaniel]

MAKE SPACE GREAT AGAIN

They were out in the middle of nowhere’s nowhere, studying a black hole named Jeff who only spoke in the screaming pain of matter being crushed into oblivion.

The only known image of Jeff the Black Hole.

It was a complicated relationship, but that wasn’t the point. The point was, the lozenge shaped ship named the U.S.S. TRASH-FIRE was going down. What’s down in space, you may ask? Well, it’s probably in the direction of the cosmic sink drain named Fred. I could tell you to ask the scientists, but we already know what you’ll do. The problem was pretty simple in its construction: They were coming far too very close to the black hole. Fred invited them in the same way it did with all matter -- “C’mon in, I’ll turn you to spaghetti and crush you like a tomato when we’re through.” “Stage ship left by eight and a half bearings,” said the captain. He was ugly, and looked a bit like in an Oompa Loompa had bred with a pilling scarecrow. Most of the crew found covering their eyes the best way to deal with him. “Sir, that would put us directly on the event horizon.” “I disagree. In fact, I’m not even convinced this event horizon thing even exists. Who found it? Who’s actually seen it?” “No one, sir. That’s literally why we’re out here. To see it for the first time.” “Right. So how are we supposed to prove it’s out there if we don’t cross it?”

“We could throw something in it?”

“If we fly in, that’s what we’d be doing.” “Sir, the consequences could be catastrophic... And I mean turned into a string of matter and stretched out for eternity like a really chatty noodle, bad.” “Again, I haven’t seen proof. I say we go in.” “Hang on,” said the first mate. He used to be handsome, but in his years dealing with the captain’s style of management (the lack-thereof style), he’d gone mostly gray. His voice, once a reedy but robust Brooklyn baritone, now sounded a bit like if someone turned the L-train into a kazoo. “We have plenty of theoretical proof, and we’re already way too close. Let’s be careful.” “I eat careful for breakfast!” said the Captain. It was true, too. He’d put a piece of space tape over all of his food stores and written the word “CAREFUL” on it. Because his colleagues weren’t idiots, they always assumed it was a warning not to eat the food and just didn’t ask questions. But not asking questions, it turned out, was the most dangerous thing you could do with an ignoramus flying a spaceship “Cap, didn’t you read the report? This could be pretty serious. Another four degrees without reverse-thrusters and we’ll cross over.” “Read? Who reads anymore? It’s the 23rd Century.”

The first mate hung his head. This was an hourly ritual, but because even his own life was on the line now, it was growing in intensity. Soon, he thought, I’m going to look exactly like one of those bobble heads on car dashboards.

The thought of mutiny crossed his mind. After all, they were on the ragged edge. The ship was crashing, and nobody would be angry if it saved their lives... right? But he believed, wholeheartedly, in the construct of order -- and believed, though there is in fact no evidence for this in all of human existence, that somehow, protocol would weed out the bad eggs. The Captain was a bad egg, and if you were brave enough to crawl into the worming barrel of cats that was his brain, you’d learn that he actually believed this was a good thing. He wanted to see what would happen, and there was nothing -- no sense, reason, protocol, or anything else that would get in the way of his curiosity. After all, wasn’t that what science was? Brave leaps by brave men into the unknown. If they died, they’d be heroes, and there’s no better way to die than as a hero. There was even an inkling of hope that things would go differently -- because it was him out here. The folly of the narcissist: Thinking just showing up will make things work out. The problem was this: Gravity did not care about this. It didn’t care what the Captain’s ratings were, didn’t care how many lightyears he’d flown, didn’t give a dark-matter shit who he thought he was... Human constructs don’t matter to supermassive black holes, mostly because they’re not stupid enough to think they’re true.  “Captain, please.” the first mate’s voice began to tremble. “I can get us out of here, but we have to act now. We have to clock the reverse thrusters at exactly 42 parsecs. If you could just”

“Wait, wait, wait. A few moments ago you said it was just dangerous. Now you’re telling me this is life and death?” “It’s called development, Captain. You should try it sometime.” “Oh, right. Of course! Now the little kazoo voice guy’s going to try and question my cognitive abilities. I’m cognitively there, you know.” “Cognitively where? You can’t even speak English.” “It’s going out of style.” “You’re an idiot!” “I’m in control. I am in complete, total, air-lock level control.” “That’s kind of the problem,” said the first mate. He didn’t realize yet that calling the captain names had no point. This is in fact a strange truth of all matters in the universe. It turns out, when you call an egoist names and belittle them, you’re actually playing on their level -- and you’re giving them the home field advantage. 

It’s a bit like pointing out there’s a problem and thinking this is the same thing as providing a solution. “You know what, first mate? I never liked you. I never respected anything you’ve ever said in your life, and I’d like to see what makes your PhD in astrophysics so much more of a credential than my frequent flyer card? I get receipts!” “Institutions, academia...” “Blah, blah, blah. You never get to be the captain because you’re too afraid to take the joystick.” “It’s called a yoke.” “It looks like a joystick to me. Have you ever played Halo? I love it.”

This guy would love to take the controls... but he’s waiting for someone to let him. At this moment, all the light in the craft went red. A voice blared over the loudspeakers: “ALERT. ALERT. EVENT HORIZON PROXIMITY CRITICAL.” The captain hit mute. Rather than finally take the controls here, the first mate just stared out the window. He believed until the last minute -- which incidentally lasted for eternity -- that somehow, the rigors of the rules he believed in would leap out from beyond the console and brain the idiot captain into a blueberry smoothie... But that’s the problem with rules. They’re given to you by people who break them, to keep you from figuring out that you’ve been duped. The ship and everyone in it crossed the threshold. It wasn’t weird, it wasn’t fantastic. It was a few moments of absolute agony for the rest of perceivable time... But at least they spotted the problem. Although it defies all manner of explanation, a scrap of the last few minutes of the craft were transmitted back to NASA:

For matters of national security, the exact quotes must be withheld, but it’s been said on good authority that the captain can be heard reciting the titles of popular television programs, perhaps as orders, or perhaps to make himself feel like he invented them. Small people cause huge problems.

[alchemine]

👀Party animals for the fandom

I have SO much to choose from for this fandom, but here’s what at least one other person will know as ‘the building explosion fic.’ There’s a lot of it, which makes me worry for how long it would be if I ever actually finished it. 😲

They wedged themselves into the space under the desk, and Danny turned Jo’s face against his shoulder to shield her from the dust and falling debris, then hunched over her, head down, in an attempt to protect himself as well. The rumbling and shaking went on and on, until slowly it stopped with a few faraway booms and a final shower of tiles and insulation from the ceiling. The overhead light panel and Jo’s desk lamp both went dead, followed almost immediately by a bluish-white emergency light coming on over the door. 

“Are you all right?”

“I’m fine.” Jo held onto him for a moment longer and then firmly pushed herself away, turning to cough into the crook of her elbow. “What about you?”  

“I’m all right. What the hell was that?” 

“Some sort of explosion,” Jo said. “I saw flames reflected in the window. They’re gone now, but they were there.” 

“Do you think it was…”

Jo shook her head. “I don’t know. We’ve got to get out of here and find out.” 

She crawled out from underneath the desk, and Danny followed her. The office was more in disarray than damaged; there were books scattered everywhere, pictures had fallen from the walls, and the window glass had a long crack running from midpoint to upper right corner, but the walls were still standing and the gaps where the ceiling tiles had fallen looked stable enough. Danny felt cautiously of the door, remembering Scott’s warnings about fires, and then opened it onto a similar scene in the outer office, where his filing cabinet had tipped over and spewed a snowstorm of paper across the floor. 

“It’s so quiet,” Jo said. Her face was sickly pale and strained in the emergency light. 

“Why aren’t we hearing people out in the corridor?” 

Danny looked at his watch. “It’s after eleven, there probably aren’t many people left. Do you want to wait here for someone to come instead? There’ll be emergency crews on their way.” 

“No, I want to go. We can always come back if we need to.” 

“All right. I’ll get my laptop—“

“Leave it,” Jo said. “It’ll only get in the way. I don’t think anyone’s out to steal your research notes at the moment.” 

They went out into the corridor, full of smashed tiles and fallen oil paintings, and along to the lifts, which they found stopped and empty, one at floor level and one below it, with its doors half-open. Inside the lower car, just visible through the gap between the floor and the top of the doors, was a single high-heeled shoe, which made Danny look nervously at Jo.

“It’s not that,” she said before he could ask the question. “Look, even in this light you can see it’s clean in there—no blood or blast marks or anything. Whoever it belongs to lost it, that’s all, trying to get out in a hurry.” 

“Okay,” Danny said, “but we’re not getting in.” 

“Obviously not,” Jo said, and then paused. “Do you smell that?” 

He sniffed the air and caught a distinct whiff of something hot and chemical, like melting plastic or smouldering insulation. “Yeah. I think you’re right and we need to go now. Stairs?”

“Stairs.” She coughed again, not even trying to stifle it this time. “I’m all right. It’s only the dust. Come on.” 

The stairwell was just around the corner from the lifts, and when they got there, they found its door twisted and hanging askew from the upper hinge. Danny nudged it farther open and looked in. 

“Oh shit.” 

“What?” 

“The stairs are gone.” 

“Let me see.” 

Jo pushed in next to him, and they both stared down at a tangled mess of splintered wood and concrete rubble, with a cloud of unidentified particulate matter slowly settling around it. The emergency light just inside the stairwell door was still burning, but with a sputtering flicker that didn’t bode well for its future. The light at the next landing was shattered and useless. A black, jagged hole led from the remains of the landing into an echoing abyss. 

Danny looked over at Jo, who had the lapel of her blazer pulled across her mouth and nose as an impromptu dust mask. “Now what?” 

“Dial 999,” she said, muffled. “They’ll be on their way, if they’re not here already, but we can at least let them know where to look for us.” 

He fumbled his phone out of his pocket and flipped it open. “No service. Can you?” 

“No service on mine either. Let’s try a landline.” 

They backtracked along the corridor to their office suite, the smell of overheated chemicals getting stronger as they went, and Danny checked the phone on his desk and then the one on Jo’s, finding both of them silent and dead. As he set down the second receiver, they heard a faint wail of sirens outside, almost too distant to be audible. At the same moment, a delicate wisp of smoke curled out through the nearest metal grille, and Jo started to cough again, in ugly, racking paroxysms that came from somewhere deep in her chest. 

“You still okay?” 

“Yes,” Jo said between coughs. Her eyes were streaming with involuntary tears, and Danny could feel his own lungs starting to burn with whatever toxic mixture of substances was being drawn through the building’s passive ventilation system. “But not for much longer. It’s worse here. We’ve got to go back to the stairs to wait.” 

The corridor was hazy, but not smoky yet, and they were able to return to the smashed stairwell door easily enough. Danny looked at it; looked at Jo, whose breathing was still harsh and irregular from her last coughing spasm; and pushed his way inside. 

“Christ, Danny, what are you doing?” Jo grabbed his upper arm with an iron grip. “It’s not even a little bit safe in there.” 

“I just want to look. I’ll be careful.” 

He advanced cautiously onto the landing, testing his weight against its strength with every step, as Jo watched him from the open doorway. The vertical column of the stairwell rose above his head, black as a chimney, and he thought about how many times he’d run up and down it during the day, when the building was bustling and humming and alive with busy people, all worrying over their next meeting or the project they’d just been handed. Now it felt like a graveyard, which made him wonder, with a shudder, if there were any bodies lying limp and broken on the floors above or below. Surely there weren’t, though. He and Jo had stayed late, and even they had been about to call it a night and head home.  

“That’s enough, Danny.” Jo was trying for the voice of command she used when she wanted instant compliance from him, but in the dark it just sounded shaky and scared. “Come back before you fall and break your neck.” 

“I’m all right.” He frowned at the wreck of the stairs heading up to the next level, and then inched forward and inspected the hole. “Jo, the steps underneath us? The ones that lead down from four to three? I think they’re still there.” 

“So? Even if they are, there’s no way to reach them.” 

“There might be. Let me see your phone; it’s got a brighter light than mine has.” 

He reached back without looking, and Jo pressed her iPhone into his hand, her fingers icy cold against his. “Thanks.” 

“Can you see anything?” 

Danny strained his eyes, staring down into the depths of the hole. “Yeah. The first two or three steps are blocked, but the ones below those look fine. Can you find something I can toss in to check?” 

Jo ventured a bit farther onto the landing and dug around in the rubble, then handed him a chunk of wood that looked as if it had once been part of a handrail. He dropped it into the hole, and they both listened as it clattered its way down the next flight of stairs. 

“Seems all right.” He looked at Jo, who was white-faced, but determined, then looked back into the hole and swallowed hard. “Okay, we can do this. I’ll go first and then you come down after. It’s not that far.” 

“How do you know the stairs are still strong enough to support us? We both weigh more than a piece of scrap wood.” 

“They’ll have to be,” Danny said. “My chest’s starting to hurt and so is my head. I don’t know what’s burning, but it can’t be good for us. Here–” He gave her phone back to her. “Give me some light so I can see where I’m going.” 

He held onto the rim of the hole, digging his fingers into soft plaster and insulation and wires, and slowly lowered himself until he could drop to the first undamaged step. It was farther than he’d thought, looking at it from up high, and he lost his balance as he landed and fell hard on one knee, with a crunch that felt like bare bone on concrete and sent a red-hot flare of pain all the way up to his hip. He didn’t want to yell and upset Jo, but he couldn’t stop a groan that he hoped she wouldn’t hear from escaping through his clenched teeth. 

“It’s all right,” he called up when he thought he could keep his voice even. “Hang on the way I did and lower yourself down as far as you can, and I’ll help with the last part.” 

“I don’t like heights,” Jo said faintly from above. She edged just close enough to the hole for him to see the top half of her face, with dark, liquid eyes and a smudge of something black across her forehead. “I get dizzy.” 

Danny thought back to a flight he’d taken with her to Canada, when she’d refused to let him open the window shade as they were passing over Greenland. “Okay, I get that, Jo, but I don’t think you’ve got a choice. The air’s lots better down here, for one thing. And I can’t come back up again, so you’ve got to join me unless you want to leave me on my own. You don’t want to do that, do you?”

“Of course not, but if I fall–”

“I’d throw myself off the top of the building before I’d let you fall.” Somewhere high over their heads, there was a creak and then an echoing crash, as if some precariously attached bit of masonry had just let go. His knee stopped stinging and started to throb as if it was thinking about swelling up. “Please come down. I swear I’ll catch you.” 

“All right.” 

He heard rustling sounds, and then Jo sat down and wriggled forward until her legs were dangling through the hole. She turned herself around, gripped its rim in the same place where he’d held on, and stopped for a moment, head bowed. 

“What’s the matter?”

“Nothing. I thought I needed to cough again. Are you ready?” 

“Ready,” Danny said, and she slid over the edge. Her skirt caught on it and pulled all the way up to the tops of her thighs, which under other circumstances might have embarrassed him, but he was so focused on the task at hand he barely noticed. Once she’d begun, she came slithering down fast, and he caught her around the middle and lowered her to the step beside him. 

“See? Easy peasy.”