#next week should be relatively chill

[morganski-19]

Chills Right to the Marrow Part 15

part 1, prev part

note: yeah, this one's going to hurt

Dustin takes a few days before returning to the hospital again. Not because he fully wants to. His mom has been too busy to drive him and Steve’s not really available either. Between work and a period of really bad migraines, Dustin hasn’t wanted to bother him. Which is new to him, but they both could use the break.

This time off has actually helped him some. He’s focusing a bit more on school. Getting assignments done on time and paying more attention in his classes. He’s been able to sleep a little better. Can almost get through the night without waking up in a cold sweat.

It’s been better. So Dustin decides to go visit Eddie again.

Steve’s walking next to him, now up to visiting Eddie. Finally, over whatever was keeping him from even thinking of going into the hospital room unless he needed to. Dustin’s glad, it’s been helping him.

There’s a nurse asking Eddie some questions when they enter. And he’s responding. With words. Not just grunts or blinks. But actual words. Dusitn almost can’t believe it.

“What year is it?” the nurse asks.

Eddie takes a deep breath. “Nineteen,” another breath, “eighty-six.” His voice is scratchy and dry.

“Great,” she marks something on her chart.

Dustin takes his seat next to Wayne, looking hopeful.

“What day of the week is it?”

Eddie closes his eyes, as if he’s trying to pull the memories from his mind. He shakes his head. Looking tired and agitated. The nurse marks another thing on her chart.

Dustin looks to Wayne, the joy in his face falling when he sees the anguish in Wayne’s eyes. There’s something more to this. Something’s wrong.

“Can you tell me what happened right before you came in here, Eddie?”

Dustin freezes and sees Steve tense out of the corner of his eye. Both of them looking to Eddie to see what he says. Knowing that he can’t say what happened. Knowing that he technically could. The NDA waiting for him is left unsigned.

Eddie huffs out a breath, struggling to inhale another one. Starting to peel off the bandages around his IV’s. Struggling, trying to sit up.

“Ed,” Wayne leans forward, trying to reason with him. “We talked about this yesterday. You can’t take those things off. They’re keepin’ you alive, son.”

Yesterday. This isn’t the first time. Eddie’s been more awake for at least a day and no one told him.

Dustin glances at Steve, seeing a mix of emotions on his face. Pain, worry, fear. A deep, rich sadness. Like he knows the words Eddie is going to say next. Knows how terrible they are.

“Fuck you,” Eddie exhales. The look in his eyes both blank and full of anger. He continues to pick at the bandage, succeeding in getting it off.

Wayne grabs Eddie’s wrist, pulling it away from his IV. “I know you don’t mean that.”

“Fuck,” breathe, “you.” The anger doesn’t leave Eddie’s face. Terrifying in how much is translated with how little is expressed. The tiredness holding his muscles back from properly emoting. Yet perfectly getting the point across.

Steve leans down to whisper in Dustin’s ear. “Maybe we should leave. Come back later.”

Eddie’s head lifts when he finally registers Steve and Dustin’s presence. A new flicker of something comes to his face. Just to melt off again. Back to the resting ghost that’s taken over.

“Out,” he snaps. Pushing his arm into the air and pointing at Steve. “Out.”

“I think it’s best you both leave,” the nurse interjects. Trying to hold the IV in Eddie’s arm as he continues to pull.

Normally, Dusitn would protest. Say that he needs to be here. That it would make things better. But it’s only a matter of time until the anger turns on him. He’s not sure he could take that.

Wayne has to pry Eddie’s hand away from the IV again, holding it close to the bar. Just like another cuff. Eddie’s using all of his strength to try and wrench it away. But he’s weak. Falls into the pillows breathless. Exhausted.

Tears start to form in his eyes as his face scrunches up. A soundless sob releasing from his throat. He tries to fight the nurse while she’s reapplying the bandage around his IV. Finally giving up.

Eddie opens his eyes again, finally looking at Dustin. Taking one more giant breath before saying the first thing to him since he died. Tears painting down his face. Pain indented in his eyes.

“Leave,” he whispers. Pleads.

Dustin stands and leaves the room, only making a few steps before his own sob breaks free. There was no look of recognition in Eddie’s eyes. No spark when he saw Dustin. Nothing to give him any solace that Eddie knew who he was. Knew what Dustin meant to him. Knew what happened in those last moments. As Eddie’s body crumbled in Dustin arms.

He remembered none of it. But it remembered him.

Steve pulls Dustin away from the hallway. Wraps his arms around him, holding the pieces as they fall. As the hope Dustin foolishly held shatters. He thought waking up meant Eddie was getting better.

He now sees how wrong that idea was.

They sit silently next to each other in the waiting room. Dustin’s tears drying on his cheeks. Steve not knowing what to say, so just not saying anything at all. It’s deafening.

Wayne finds them after some time. Sits across from them. Silent, until he clears his throat. “I’m sorry you had to see that.”

Dustin wants to respond. Ask what happened in the days he wasn’t here. But his mouth can’t seem to open for the words to form.

“Eddie,” Wayne continues. “Eddie’s goin’ through a bit of amnesia after fully waking up. It’s making him angry, and he’s fightin’ just because of the pain. It’s nothing against you.”

Dustin wasn’t in the room when Will was possessed by the Mind Flayer. He’s only heard the stories from Mike. How Will didn’t remember him that much. Could barely remember his own mom. How the monster took the memories and hid them away. Smothered them. Sequestered Will in his own mind.

Eddie wasn’t controlled by the Mind Flayer. Or anything from the Upside Down. Dustin had given El a picture of Eddie and asked her to see if he was the only one in there. That there was nothing lingering in the depths of his mind that would take him away.

It apparently didn’t need monsters to do that. Sometimes life did that for them.

“Do they know when, if, the amnesia will go away?” Steve asks. Dustin still speechless.

Wayne shakes his head, fighting the mist in his eyes. “Could be days, could be weeks. Won’t know until he’s more conscious. He’s still in and out of sleep, probably won’t be up again till tomorrow.”

Tomorrow. Dustin can only hope that Eddie remembers him tomorrow.

next part

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[jadeylovesmarvelxo]

Drama abounds when you're attacked by monstrous bats after an argument with Eddie and Steve Harrington comes to your rescue...

Warnings: Complicated feelings, unrequited love, angst, mentions of blood.

❤️

This week had officially sucked.

Eddie was too busy following around his new girlfriend like a lovesick puppy to care what you were up to.

You wish it didn't bother you, but it did. All Eddie talked about was her and it drove you mad, jealously that began as small thing had grown and grown the last week or so. It was an awful feeling.

Shouldn't you be happy Eddie had found someone? Someone kind, pretty and who had so much in common with him. That's what a good friend should feel. Right now, this reaction made you feel guilty as hell.

"I don't know what your problem is. Why can't you just be happy that I'm happy! Maybe if you found someone yourself you wouldn't be like this?" Eddie had snapped at you earlier and the crushing feeling in your chest doubled.

It was dark now in Hawkins, Autumn was in full swing, the chilly wind nipping at you as you walked home.

Technically, you should be at Hellfire but after earlier you were in no mood tonight, you just wanted your bed and maybe a good binge of some of your favorite movies.

Anything that would help you forget about your feelings right now. Maybe scary movie, no romance whatsoever.

It was ironic you spoke about scary movies because the next minute you found yourself in one.

Hawkins was creepy after dark and you had heard enough tales from your relatives about the strange shit that went down here. At first you didn't believe it, Hawkins looked like any other picturesque small town... Well, until you looked closer and discovered the rot underneath the perfect facade.

Your friend Robin told you that spooky monsters roamed the woods, the rumours that freaky bat creatures hid in the shadows looking for prey. Not vampires, no actual bats that would rip you apart.

At first you thought it was some kind of old urban legend, that's until the bodies began the pile up and the legend grew and grew.

Now no one went into the woods, not even in groups. No one would risk it. Even walking past the woods to get home creeped you out, even if someone deep inside you were itching to know more about these bats.

Devil bats people called them. The side of you that was a big fan of mystery and investigating had researched as much as you could about these creatures but most of it was flimsy at best.

You're so lost in your thoughts that you miss the screeching sound the first time. The second time however chills you to the bone.

Screams fill the air, a man shouting for help and you freeze for a second before running to help. It's the stupidest thing you've done going straight into a frenzy of bats, but you can't just leave the guy to die.

When you reach the clearing into the woods you find your too late. The man is dead, blood seeping into the ground and bites on his neck.

Hawkins police station isn't far away. Maybe you could find Sheriff Hopper? You're about to run when you hear that screech again and one of the bats swoop down at you.

The tail is long and sharp and it lashes across your stomach before you can even move. Then the second bat is flying at you and you begin to run back out the forest and through the streets.

The bats are following you, four or them whipped up into a frenzy at the smell of your blood. They're smart to and dive down whipping their tails across your legs so you stumble and fall, your head smacks across the gravel on the road and dizziness makes your head spin.

You kick out at one of the bats and it hits the sucker right in the face, the other one uses its tail to wrap around your legs tightly, so hard that the sharpness of its tail cuts into you.

Two of them then work at ripping open your shirt and sinking their teeth into your side. The scream that leaves you is full of terror and pain, no fucking way are you dying now, theres still so much you want to do in life.

Wriggling around you try to throw one of the bats off you and it works but the second little bastard uses its wings and tiny, fierce claws to pierce into your skin to slow down your moments.

Just when it seems all hope is losr something slams into the bat and knocks it off you, you're so grateful for this and peer up to see Steve Harrington wielding a baseball bat covered in nails.

He slams it down on the bats head that has its tail wrapped around your leg and kills it instantly, freeing you. Dazed you stsnd up and Steve tosses you a crowbar.

"Take their heads off"

You don't have to be told twice and make quick work of the bats as more begin to fly your way. Pissed off, you swing the crowbar and tear off one of their tails.

Steve's hiss of pain captures your attention and you rush towards him and pull it away from Steve by its tail, Steve recovers and smashes the bat into its face.

His shirt is torn and you see a small trickle of blood seep through. The screeching stops as the last creature dies.

Tires squeal on the pavement and you hear your name being shouted. Eddie is running towards you, he looks as pale as a ghost when he reaches you and checks you for wounds.

"Eddie, what are you doing here?" Steve steadies you as you stumble. Eddie is still terribly pale as he answers.

"I heard you screaming, I was out looking for you because you didn't turn up at Hellfire and I felt like shit about earlier and then I heard you scream... I couldn't find you and I was terrified"

He's shaking as he takes in your appearance, his eyes wild.

"What the fuck were those things? Sweetheart?" you smile faintly, the adrenaline from fighting the bats wears off and you wince in pain and your head feels like it's spinning.

"I'm fine Ed's... I, woah" you faint and strong arms catch you before you fall.

❤️

When you come to you're at your house and resting on the sofa. Eddie is beside you looking extremely anxious.

"Thank fuck you're awake" his eyes are red and it looks like he's been crying, he won't admit it but you wonder if he was.

"You could have died... Those bats, shit if Steve hadn't found you when he did" His voice trails off and you gently squeeze his hand.

"I'm okay Ed's. Sore as shit but fine" he nods and kisses your cheek gently, then goes to help Steve with the bandages and antiseptic cream.

Gingerly you lift up your shirt and wince, it's soaked in blood which makes you feel nauseated. Eddie gently cleans the blood away as Steve cuts the bandages.

"Shit, these bastards got you good princess" he whispers worriedly. His nickname makes you ache.

"Don't call me that Ed's. Stacy, she doesn't like it" you whisper and he freezes.

"You're my best friend" he murmurs and the tension in the air deepens.

"Another thing she doesn't like Eddie. Maybe you're right and I should find someone. Would stop all this drama with Stacy" Eddie swallows and Steve steps forward.

"Munson, can you get more bandages incase these get bloodied up quickly" Eddie nods and hurries away.

The tension disappears, Steve gives you a sympathetic smile. Yeah, you were sick of the drama with all of this.

Steve gently patches you up and you feel yourself calm down for the first time tonight as you watch him work.

"Let me do yours, just take your shirt off and I'll help" he looks hesitant but nods and slips off his shirt.

You might have complicated feelings for Eddie but that didn't stop you from admiring Steve, he was handsome and now he was here in your house half naked. Georgia would have a field day if she knew about this.

When did he get so hairy? The thought pops into your head unbidden and it flusters you so much that you almost drop the antiseptic cream.

The bites draw you in again, a fresh one from tonight but also old ones. Bites that have left scars, marks from the bats tails that haven't faded.

You reach out to touch one gently, Steve watches you intently, there's a lot of tension in the air and the fact you could have died has you feeling rattled and in need of comfort.

Steve must be feeling the same thing as he dips his head down and his lips hover over yours.

He hesitates then his lips meet yours before he pulls away again. "Shit, I'm sorry. Shouldn't have done that" he mutters.

"It's okay. It was nice and kinda freeing not to think of Eddie every five minutes" he softens and you patch up the rest of him.

"Tell me about it. Felt the exact same with Nancy, it's better now but I still haven't found the right girl I want to be with, who isn't after me for just sex" you peer up at Steve, eager to say something comforting.

"You're awesome Steve, a badass monster fighter to boot. You'll find someone amazing"

Steve smiles and kisses your cheek, lingering just for a moment.

"Thank you sweetheart"

The door slams shut and you jump apart as Eddie comes in. He looks between the two of you with a blank expression on his face, eyes trailing to Steve who is shirtless and then your flustered look.

"Am I interrupting something here or..." Steve barely looks flustered as he shrugs on his shirt.

"Thanks for helping me patch up honey, call me if you need anything okay?" he smiles and squeezes your hand.

He leaves and your filled with a rush of jumbled feelings.

❤️

Could be an Eddie or Steve story :) Your choice.

❤️

[catt-leya]

07/05

rick grimes x fem!reader

warnings: angsty (reader getting stabbed), blood, handjob, age gap, dirty talk, crying Rick and smutty stuff

💗 This fic is a second part but it's not "necessary" to know the first one. That's why it's called Thoughts and not mainly Dirty Pt.2 (together it would be Dirty Thoughts hihi)💗

request, part I

Before you can even say a word, you notice how he closes up again. You notice him stiffening between your legs before he takes a big step backwards.

Without his body heat, the room is far too cold and you stare at him with huge eyes, "Rick?"

Stripped bare, you sit in front of him and ice chills run down his spine.

Fucking hell, he can't bring himself to do that. 

Fucking you is one thing, admittedly completely morally reprehensible, but still explainable. But falling in love with you a completely different.

An old guy who likes to be in a 22 year old pussy is sick, but maybe still understandable. 

But loving a 22 year old completely inappropriate.

He shouldn't have done that. He's the older one and should have brought you to your senses and not given in to your first touch.

You would never let a guy like him screw you if you had a choice. 

He's sure of that.

And now he's standing here, staring at his cum slowly dripping out of you, knowing he's going to hell for this.

Rick takes another step back and he feels like he hit you. 

Like he rammed his fist right into your face.

He bends over and yanks his pants up over his ass like the little room is on fire.

Almost in a panic, he yanks the door open behind him, leaving you exposed and vulnerable in the room.

Alone.

The feeling of being abandoned in this way is beyond description.

For a few minutes you are not even able to move an inch.

Stunned, you sit there thinking about what just happened.

Sure, you kind of seduced him, but he wanted you.

Again and again his words flit through your mind and you wonder at what point he had decided to leave you lying there like a piece of used meat.

"Spread your legs for me."

"That's good. Your pussy is so wet and all this just for me."

"I want you to cum on my cock. That's why I stopped."

"Do you realize how deep I am inside you. I'd love to stay right there forever."

Tears well up in your eyes.

It's not like you were expecting a declaration of love or anything like that. You're sure that for Rick, it was nothing more than physical attraction that led him to fuck you in the end. 

But you expected a modicum of respect.

At least to be treated with respect to the extent that he doesn't run away from you while his cum is still leaking out of you and you're sitting trembling in front of him.

Slowly, you stand on your feet and reach for your clothes.

You move as if in a trance and as you open the door and blink, looking into the sun, the only evidence that the whole thing with Rick really happened is your sticky legs.

Used and discarded.

That's how you feel and that feeling isn't going away anytime soon, especially since you really like Rick. 

Yes, crushing on him.

Two weeks go by in which you hardly get to see Rick. 

In which he avoids you at every opportunity.

If anyone around you notices, no one brings it up and you don't say a word about it either.

It's weird because you guys have always been relatively close and now he can't even look at you.

You should be mad and wish him the worst, but every time you catch a glimpse of his dark curls, your heart stops for a brief moment and you have to restrain yourself from running after him.

Even now, you scan the place for him, even though you should already be sitting in the car next to Glenn.

From the second floor window of the jail, Rick watches you walk around the car and get in on the passenger side.

One last time, you lift your head and look straight up at him. 

It's as if you've felt his gaze on you.

Hectically, he takes a step back and leans his back against the wall.

With closed eyes he stands there and doesn't get your gorgeous face out of his eyes. 

Your face that was still beautiful even when you looked at him with tears in your eyes as he forcibly pulled up his pants.

If he was a good man, he would tell you the truth. 

Oh fuck, if he was a good man, he wouldn't have fucked you in the first place.

But he's scared, way too scared of what might happen and some stupid part in his heart might have that little bit of hope that you might want him as much as he wants you. 

He's acting ridiculous and he knows it, but he's not a good man.

As planned, you and your people search the small abandoned town you just discovered the other day and find a surprising amount of stuff, considering the town was looted long ago.

You wander from house to house and in a small room overlooking the surrounding forest you stop.

The house is gorgeous and you can imagine how a small family must have lived in this pretty place.

Maybe they are still alive too, who knows.

You run the flat of your hand over the dusty windowsill and stare at the little specks of dust that you swirl into the air, not noticing at all that you are no longer alone in the house.

Your people are a few houses away and you have remained alone in the house, as you assumed, but when you suddenly hear strange voices downstairs, you flinch.

You quickly look around. 

You can't get out of the window without breaking every bone in your body, and the only other way out is blocked by the people downstairs.

So it's a choice between broken bones and possible direct death.

You choose the broken bones.

As quietly as you can, you pry open the window and hear a deep male voice from below, "I'll check upstairs."

Now you're getting frantic, you may only have a few seconds before the guy comes up the stairs and looks straight into the room where you're standing.

You shoulder your backpack and there's the guy standing in the room, "Hey, guys. Here's a chick."

He wants to reach for you, but you're already hanging on the other side of the window with one leg. 

But before you can swing the other leg to the other side as well, he grabs your lower leg and you stagger your upper body further out the window.

Pure will to survive shoots through your veins as he hisses, "Come on, kid. I'm not going to hurt you."

You kick at him, not caring that you'd land head first on the ground, but the guy doesn't let go and pulls a knife from his pants with his free hand.

You scream out as a second guy appears in the room and you kick again. 

You're lucky he lets go of you this time, but with his other hand, he tries to grab you again and rams the knife into your thigh.

Blood splatters your face and the guy's hand slips off.

You don't even have the chance to scream, because you already fall.

You are lucky that you landed in a bush and only got a few scratches from the fall.

Limping you get up and hear the men shouting something, you run as fast as you can in the direction of your companions.

The fall has ripped the knife out of your thigh and now the blood is running unhindered down your leg, praying that the guy didn't nick any major artery.

You're not fast, but fast enough to reach your group and you gasp, "Another group...two men...knife."

Arm dragging, the others pull you to your car and all you hear is, "It's going to be okay," before you black out.

Rick is helping with the new posts for the fence when he sees your car.

Even from a distance he can see that something is wrong. 

You're speeding toward the fence way too fast.

"Maggie! Open the gate!", Rick's voice echoes across the yard and Maggie, standing closest to the gate, does as he asks.

With screeching tires, the car comes to a stop and the driver gets out, panicked and covered in blood.

Immediately Rick thinks the worst, "What happened? Where is she?"

'She' could have been anyone, but everyone knows who Rick means.

The door to the back seat opens and Rick hears your faint voice, "I'm fine. I just need to get some sleep."

The whole car smells of the iron in your blood and in his whole life he has never had such a panic as the moment he gets to see your pale face.

Immediately he pushes everyone aside and somehow squeezes his big body into the car without hurting you.

"Baby?", pure panic drips from that single word and you smile weakly at him, "Oh, so I have to be stabbed first for you to talk to me again?"

You lazily close your eyes and immediately his rough hand is on your cheek, "Don't fall asleep, yes? You have to stay awake."

"I'm so tired though," you don't even realize how weak your voice is, but Rick is almost cracking up, "Baby, look at me. I know you're tired, but please look at me."

It's exhausting to keep your eyes open, but you oblige, whereupon he reaches under your legs and mutters, "Just look at me, okay? We'll patch you up."

Slowly he lifts you out of the car and you mumble, "Are you going to stay with me this time or are you going to leave me alone again?"

A twinge of guilty conscience presses against his heart and he whispers softly, "I'll never leave you alone again," and he is completely serious.

He expects an answer, but nothing more comes from you and when he gets out of the car with you in his arms, your eyes are closed.

"Baby?" his voice whips up to unimagined heights and his heart threatens to leap out of his chest.

No.

Oh no.

Please don't.

He has no idea if you're even still breathing.

If he looked closely he would see your chest rising and falling but naked panic and fear pumps through his veins and he runs to jail with you in his arms, "Hershel!"

The older man is on the spot and with just a glance at the nearly motionless figure in Rick's arms he shouts, "Put her on your bed!"

The blood from your leg soaks his shirt and as he places you on his bed, his shirt sticks to him like a second skin.

As Hershel comes rushing into the small room, Rick makes as much room for him as the older man needs without leaving your side.

At the head of the bed, Rick kneels down and brushes a few sweaty strands from your face.

"Is she dead?", Rick's voice breaks and Hershel growls, "Calm down, son. She's just passed out."

Immediately Rick fixes his gaze on your chest and for the first time he doesn't look at it suggestively, but waits for the faint breath that lifts your pretty boobs.

When he sees with his own eyes that you're actually breathing, he rests his forehead against yours, gasping, and murmurs, "Oh my God. You're alive. You're alive and you're with me. You're alive."

He would never have forgiven himself if you died and your last memory of him was that he left you alone and vulnerable. 

He never would have forgiven himself if he never told you the truth.

Rick presses his face against your neck so that his nose presses against your pulse and murmurs in a choked voice, "Baby, I love you. I'm sorry I've been such an ass. I promise I'll never leave you again. I love you so much. I love you."

"Rick?", Hershel's voice is soft, "You should tell her that when she regains consciousness."

Face still buried in your neck, he can't hold back the tears and while Hershel saves your life, Rick cries like he never has before.

Groaning softly, you open your eyes and try to adjust to the light conditions.

You're in prison but don't remember how you got here. 

Darkly you remember Rick begging you to look at him and the rest is completely gone.

Lazily, you try to turn onto your side, but bump into something.

Confused, you turn your eyes to your hip and blink several times, thinking it's a dream.

Completely drenched in blood, Rick is sitting on the floor next to the bed you're lying in, his head resting on the mattress next to your hip.

His soft snores fill the small room and you wonder how long you've been unconscious.

"Rick?" your voice is raspy, but immediately Rick startles out of his sleep and stares at you, "You're awake."

Groaning, you frown, "Obviously, or I wouldn't have woken you up after all."

Sliding up to you on his knees, he murmurs softly, "Doesn't have to mean anything. You kept calling my name all night, but you were never awake."

Grumbling, you close your eyes and Rick reaches for your hand, "How are you?"

It's strange to see Rick so interested in you, and the way he clings to your hand feels like he's expecting you to get up and just disappear at any second.

"I feel like my leg was put through a meat grinder, but other than that, everything's top notch," you lazily open your eyes and Rick nods, "Okay, I'll get Hershel."

He stands up, but you squeeze his hand so tightly that he stops beside you, "Wait a bit. I want to be...alone with you."

Slowly, he kneels back down beside you and murmurs, "That can wait."

You roll your eyes and mumble, "No, it can't, because I don't know if you'll slip away and I'll never get to see you again."

Under his lashes, he looks at you, "I'm not leaving. Ever again."

Surprised, your eyebrows twitch up, "Oh yeah? Where'd that change of heart come from? Do I have to almost bleed to death for you to realize it was shitty of you to just leave me sitting there after you had your dick up to your balls in me?"

Rick winces like you hit him and in a perverse way it feels good. 

It feels good that you can hurt him, too.

He doesn't even dare look you in the face as he whispers, "I'm sorry. There were so many different ways to handle the situation and I chose the asshole version."

Now you have his apology, but you still feel so hollow.

Not expecting anything more, you let go of his hand and nod, "Okay, thanks."

He wanted your young body, you're sure of it, and he got it.

That's all it is, and that's all it will ever be.

"Go get Hershel," at your words he looks up and stares at you like you asked for the moon.

You don't care that he admits to being with you all night. 

You don't care that he called you baby at one point, and you don't care that you'll never be anything more than a nice pussy to fuck. 

At least that's what you tell yourself.

A few seconds pass with no one stirring until Rick murmurs, "If you think it's disgusting or perverted, tell me and I'll shut up and never speak of it again."

"What?" you have no idea what he's talking about, but he slumps down and whispers, "I love you."

The silence is oppressive.

You're not even breathing anymore.

Apologetically, he looks at you with his pretty blue eyes, "I love you. I know it's sick and I'm sorry. You don't have much choice when it comes to sex and probably between all the others, I'm the best choice because you've known me the longest. I don't know. But I do know that I shouldn't have fallen in love with you. I mean, I've been thinking about fucking you forever. Way before that incident two weeks ago and even then I had a little crush on you. But finally holding you in my arms was…I was cracking up because I realized that I love you. With all my heart. And I felt like a pervert and then I acted like an ass. Then I held you bleeding in my arms and thought you were going to die thinking that I treated you like shit and not knowing how I felt about you, so I'm telling you now. I love you."

You blink.

Once.

Twice.

Three times.

Then you lean forward, and Rick flinches as you place your lips on his.

For a brief moment, he stiffens again before leaning in toward you to put more pressure into the kiss.

You can practically taste the fear he had for you on his tongue and move a little closer to him.

Half erect, your torso brushes his and immediately he releases the kiss, "You should rest, baby."

The endearment, makes your cheeks warm and your lips brush his graying beard, "Hmhm."

Even dirty and sweaty, he smells so incredibly good that you press your nose against his neck and your heart does a somersault because he doesn't pull away from you and instead murmurs, "Baby, please."

Your leg screaming in pain completely fades into the background as you start sucking on his neck.

Rick flinches and digs his fingers into the edge of the mattress you're lying on.

Damn, you know exactly what you're doing and you should take it easy, especially since you weren't even conscious a few minutes ago.

As you bite into his neck, he squints his eyes and tries one more time, "Baby-"

"You know, I haven't been completely honest with you either," your voice is muffled and he only manages a soft "Huh?".

You press your mouth to his jaw, "I told you I was attracted to you because you're so manly."

He tilts his head to the side a little so you have better access.

"Were you just trying to boost my ego and actually think I'm a wimp?" his voice has dropped an octave and you suppress a whimper at the harsh tone in it.

How can it be that he doesn't know the impact he has on you? 

How easily he can make you drool.

Gently, you lick over the new glowing spot on his neck, then whisper, "No, that was the truth. But it's not the only reason I'm so attracted to you."

You move away from him a bit and blink up at him, "You're good. You're a good man and your heart is in the right place. I don't care how old you are, and in a way, maybe your age turns me on a little bit, if I'm being honest. But I didn't want you just for sex and certainly you weren't one choice out of many. In fact, you have no competition at all because you were all I ever wanted. Always."

You bite your lower lip, "You know, I've had a head over heels crush on you forever. I...well I didn't think you could even like me like that."

He stares at you like you've grown a second head and you smile shyly at him, "Well, what I'm saying is that I love you too, Rick."

Blush stains your cheeks and only makes you more gorgeous.

You love him.

You.

Love.

Him.

Without thinking, he presses his lips to yours again and you moan in surprise into the kiss.

Gently, he straightens up a bit and presses you back into your pillow this way.

His beard scratches over your soft skin and you lift your hands to his cheeks to stroke the stubble.

He runs his tongue over your lower lip, "Should I shave my beard?"

He always had to do it with Lori because she had hated the way the stubble felt on her skin. 

After that stopped being an issue, though, he let it grow.

But if you asked him to, he would still get a razor today just so he could keep kissing you.

What he didn't count on, though, is your soft laugh, "It doesn't bother me, Rick."

You tug on his beard, "Besides, it suits you."

Somehow you like the way the stubble feels against your skin.

Especially at the thought of how they would feel between your legs.

Rick's gaze softens and he leans further over you, nudging your leg a little, and you wince.

"Sorry, baby. I'll get Hersehl right now," chuckling, you stop him, "Relax. If I don't move it, it'll be fine."

Skeptically, he looks at you and you slide a hand to his belt, murmuring softly, "If you don't touch me, we'll be fine."

"You don't have to do this," he says, but in his eyes you see once again how much he wants to.

That's the interesting thing about Rick. 

He can make his voice sound cold and impassive and look like he's about to rip your head off, but his eyes give him away.

Every time.

Because they're so bright, they also stand out so incredibly and it's playfully easy to read him in them.

Slowly you undo his belt and he doesn't budge an inch as you breathe, "I want to."

Hectically, his gaze slides to your bandaged leg and you purr, "Just relax. Think of it as a reward for taking such good care of me."

"Okay," his voice is soft and uncertain. 

Frantically, you try to suppress a grin because it's so unlike him, "Stand up."

Immediately he looks you in the face again, sure you've changed your mind and want him to go get Hershel after all, but you whisper hoarsely, "If you stand, I can get to your cock better lying down."

He swallows a whimper.

When did he become such a wimp?

But your wide eyes and soft hand stroking his lower belly make him tremble and he nods.

With soft knees he straightens up to his full height and immediately you pull his pants down enough to get at his cock.

This innocent touch makes him moan harshly and he clings to the bed frame of the bunk bed.

Your eyes are glued to his upper arms, where his biceps now bulge strongly, and you whisper, "Say it again."

Rick looks first to your hand around his cock and then back to your face, "I love you."

You stroke his hardening cock and he moans, "Oh God, I love you so much."

He thrusts his hips at you and you just can't take your eyes off his face, not when he opens his blue eyes and looks at you like you're everything to him. 

Maybe you even are, "I love you so much."

When he fucked you, you were so distracted by your pulsing pussy that you barely paid attention to how gorgeous Rick looks as his whole body shakes and he squints his eyes as if by willpower alone he won't manage to cum in your hand right now.

How could he behave at you any other way when you're lying in front of him, practically begging to jerk him off?

You try to straighten up a bit so you can breathe a kiss on the tip of his cock, and the way he flinches at the brief contact of your lips is enough amends for the stinging pain that emanates from your leg as you move.

Briefly, you think about what would happen if Rick were too loud. 

If someone came into the small cell while you lay flat on the bed and Rick towered over you, fucking your hand.

The thought makes you whimper softly, "Fuck me."

As you expected, he shakes his head, "No, baby. You wanted my cock so jerk me off and I'll fuck you as soon as I can push your legs apart again."

Your grip tightens and you whimper softly, "Please don't talk like that."

Irritated, he frowns and when he sees you slide your free hand between your legs, he grunts, "It turns you on, right?"

Hesitantly, you nod and he grins at you, "Then keep your hands off yourself, baby."

Your hand freezes in mid-motion and Rick continues to fuck your hand, "Good girl. Imagine all the things I'm going to do to you because you're finally mine."

You moan softly, "Rick, please..."

"Shhhh, just jerk me off, baby," he teases you and you know it.

His cock is hard and swollen in your small hand and every time you graze his tip it twitches in your hand.

His knuckles stand out white and he moans harshly, "Where do you want it?"

Greedily you open your mouth and he growls, "Shit you're dirty."

He pushes your hand aside and aims for your wide open mouth as he rubs his shaft and he rests his forehead against his forearm to look down at you as he cums.

Some of his cum hits your mouth and the rest runs down your cheek.

You swallow what he gives you and gather up the rest from your cheek to put your finger in your mouth and suck his cum from your finger.

With his mouth open, he stares down at you.

You are perfect.

In every way, shape, and form.

With a 'plop' you pull your finger on your mouth as you hear Hershel's voice from outside, "Are you done?"

Smutty May Masterlist

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[anneapocalypse]

I realize I already haven't been posting a lot of DA stuff relative to how much FFXIV is on here these days, and that is probably going to be the case for the next couple months, until I've had time to play the new game at my own pace.

While I have found the barrage of promo material a bit overwhelming and have mostly chosen for myself not to worry about keeping up with it all, I'm not especially worried about spoilers ruining the game for me. For one thing, spoilers don't ruin a story for me, and for another, Bioware loves to do fake-outs in promo material where they show you something out of context that look like a massive spoiler and in some sense is but they don't give the context and it usually turns out to be something very different than the impression it gave us (showing In Hushed Whispers Leliana without revealing the time travel thing, for example, or showing Shepard's death like it was a potential ending for ME2 and not the prologue to the game). So like, whatever wild shit they've already shown or will get talked about after previewers get to play a scant few hours of the game, I'm pretty confident that there's going to be plenty of big moments and story context that very deliberately will not be shown before release. I'm going to beef up my blacklist, but I'm also not worried about it, personally.

Mostly, I am probably just not going to be engaging in a lot of meta discussion for a bit, because this just isn't my favorite time to be doing that. I was around for the hype train for DAI and also for the game's initial reception and I'll just say it was not the most pleasant time to be in DA fandom. And please don't misunderstand me--I'm not saying that none of the criticism was warranted or that nobody should complain when they play a new game and don't like something.

I'm just saying that a big new story with lots of new characters and lore and locations and details takes time to absorb. It takes more than a couple of weeks to fully process and analyze a complex story sometimes. And in my experience, the meta and lore discussions get better and more nuanced and interesting with a bit of distance from the initial release. And personally, that's where I start to really enjoy it. I had a lot more fun talking with people about DAI--its strengths and its faults--once the initial hype and backlash had died down. I expect it will probably be that way with DATV too. Again, I want to stress that I don't think there's anything wrong with sharing and discussing first impressions, including negative ones, just that I will probably enjoy the discussions more once things settle a bit.

So if I'm not talking about Dragon Age much here for a while, it's not from lack of interest, I just might chill for a bit and enjoy it on my own before jumping back in.

[obxsummer]

Break in the Line // The Pogues

pairing: platonic!pogues x maybank!reader

summary: having the maybank name attached to you was a curse. you've never had to pay for it until a drug dealer decides to take his revenge against your brother and dad out on you.

warnings: physical violence, cursing

navigation 

--

When people heard the name Maybank, it generally didn’t mean anything good. Luke Maybank was a local piece of shit and JJ Maybank did enough to get himself into trouble more often than not. The one time the name meant something good, was when it applied to you. You weren’t your brother and you definitely strayed from your dad at every moment possible. People questioned often how you managed with an out-of-control sibling and a drug addict father, but it never seemed like that for you. Sure, your dad sucked, but JJ never seemed too out of grasp for you. In fact, your brother was one of your best friends, but that didn’t mean you had to act like him or vice versa.

The Pogues looked to you more often than not to keep them from doing something stupid, which happened more than it should. In turn, they tried to keep you from their shenanigans as much as possible. You didn’t mind when they did things that were slightly illegal but at some point, you had enough with the crazy adrenaline and left them to their own devices. 

You weren’t oblivious though, as much as you wish you didn’t know what they got themselves involved in. You knew your dad painted a large target on yours and JJ’s back with the way he acted. Hence, the situation you found yourself in right now.

The day had started off fine. You were hanging out with the Pogues on the boat, happily content with the sun on your skin and the laughter of your friends surrounding you. These were the moments you savoured, when you could just act like kids and not have to stress about life at home or where you would get your next meal. 

“Y/N, heads up!” You barely had time to open your eyes before a beer can was being tossed your way. Cold ice dropped on your skin from the drink as you sat up to shake the cold water away.

“I know you did not just throw my sister a beer, John B.”

You rolled your eyes. “Chill out, JJ.” You glared at him from behind your sunglasses, annoyed with the off and on babying he often treated you with. You guys weren’t too far apart in age but JJ took every opportunity to annoy the shit out of you when he could. 

You’d grown comfortable being around your brother and friends for majority of your life. You had known John B since you were practically born with Pope and Kie close behind. Sarah was the newest addition but the two of you formed a relationship relatively quick. She understood what it was like to be on the shy side and a little more introverted. The others definitely were not in that boat in the slightest.

“Sooo,” Kie pulled the attention back as she sat down from getting her drink. “There’s a kegger tonight and I think it’s pretty much obvious that we should go.”

“I’m down,” John B instantly agreed, lifting his drink in agreement.

Pope shrugged his shoulders. “I don’t have to help Pops at all so count me in.”

“It’s not like I have shit to do so.” JJ turned his hat backwards as he looked over to where you were opening your drink. “Y/N?”

You hummed for a moment in thought. “I don’t know, guys. I might just crash at the Chateau for movie night.” In your defense, you’d spent the entire week with the group nonstop. Minus the few classes you didn’t have with one of them, you’d seen them every day and quite frankly, your social battery was past empty.

“I’m with Y/N,” Sarah raised her hand slightly only to be hit with a groan from her boyfriend. “Seriously, John B. You guys can go and Y/N and I will chill until you get back. It’ll be fine.”

It took a little bit of persuading but eventually, the rest of the gang piled in the Twinkie to head to the kegger while you and Sarah bundled up for a classic movie night. JJ said something about not burning the house down on his way out, to which you flipped him off in return. Sarah managed to find some not-expired popcorn in the cabinet and made it for the two of you before you settled in to watch your film.

“I’m really grateful you’ve been spending time with everyone,” Sarah spoke up about halfway through the movie. I gave her a deadpanned look. She shoved your shoulder lightly in return. “Seriously. I know it’s not really much of your scene but it’s nice to have another person around to buffer the chaos.”

You shook your head. “I definitely had my fair share. I’m just glad you backed me up about staying in tonight. They can go-go-go nonstop and I need a six day recovery inbetween school days.”

Sarah opened her mouth to respond to you but was cut off by a crashing noise coming from outside. The two of you froze, staring at each other in horror for a moment. You waited for a second before moving slowly and opening the patio door, wishing for once JJ was here with his gun. Sarah moved quietly behind you as you stepped down onto the grass.

“Who’s there?” You tried to make your voice seem menacing, to show no fear. You were terrified.

“There she is, there she is.” Your heart dropped at the sight of Barry jumping from around the corner with a clear taste for vengeance in his eyes. “Just the Maybank I was looking for.”

“What do you want, Barry?” You backed up slightly as he neared you. “I don’t have anything to do wit-”

He laughed and rubbed his hands together as he took you in. You felt small in your oversized sweats and a t-shirt that definitely belonged to one of the boys. “See, that’s the thing, princess. You seem to have everything to do with this.”

A harsh slap to your cheek had you cowering back, Sarah gasping out your name as she moved to your side to hold your arm. The two of you weren’t prepared for something like this in the slightest. 

“Your shitty ass father didn’t give me my money, your brother still owes me, and since they seemingly aren’t bothered by it, I’m gonna send them a message instead.”

Barry ripped you out of Sarah’s arms and threw you to the ground before you had a chance to defend yourself. The pain came soon after, moving faster than you could keep up with. Punch after punch becoming numbing. You could vaguely hear Sarah’s shouts to stop but Barry was determined.

A sharp hand around your throat chopped your airflow off before Barry lifted you off the ground and slammed your back against the house. Eyes blurry with tears, you did your best to look him in the eye and act like you weren’t afraid, weren’t fearful that he could easily kill you.

“Sorry to mess up your face, princess. It’s nothing personal,” Barry let out a sick laugh before releasing you to the ground. You could hear the crunch of his footsteps as he ran away. 

“Y/N, Y/N.” Sarah’s hands were shaky as she kneeled next to you. “I-I called John B and JJ, a-and Kie and Pope but nobody’s answering!”

You coughed aggressively once you got air back into your lungs. “Inside,” You choked out as you let Sarah pull you to your feet. A small yelp left your mouth as your left ankle gave out but your friend was quick to step in and help you inside.

Sarah was absolutely panicking as she helped you settle on the pull-out that the two of you had previously occupied for movie night. You hissed as you settled into the mess of pillows and blankets but thanked her regardless.

“You okay? What can I do?” Sarah ran over with a mix of frozen vegetables and ice packs that she could find before she was applying them to your already bruising skin.

“I’m okay,” You mumbled as you accepted a bag of frozen peas for your throbbing black eye. “Did JJ answer yet?”

Sarah took a quick glance at her phone before shaking her head. As much as she wanted to believe you, she could tell you clearly weren’t holding up well. Moving into the bathroom, she found some painkillers and some relatively new first-aid supplies that she figured would help. 

You tried not to panic about what had just happened but in the silence of the room, your mind started wandering. What if Barry found JJ next? Did your dad set the two of you up? Would he come back if this pattern continued? You would do anything for JJ, that much was guaranteed, but you weren’t up for taking shots meant for your father. 

“Whew! That was a good one if I can say so.” JJ’s voice rang through your ears just as Sarah was returning with some meds for you to take. You knew shit would hit the fan the second JJ, John B, and Pope caught sight of you. Sarah offered you a cup of water to take the pills with when the screen door swung open.

“What the fuck?!” Your brother’s yell rattled around the house as soon as he caught sight, causing you to wince at the sharp noise. “What happened?”

“Why are you yell-” John B’s question was cut off as he entered his home to see his girlfriend with various bandages and meds before his eyes drifted to your bruised and battered body. “Okay. What the hell happened?”

You groaned, “Please stop yelling, holy shit.” Kie rushed around the boys to climb on the other side of you. Her hand was gentle as possible as she took the frozen veggies from your hand so they could assess the damage.

“Who did this?” Pope’s question was demanding as he stood behind the other two boys, the three of them radiating enough anger to wipe out the island. 

“Barry,” Sarah answered softly. She and Kie made moves to help you sit up as easily as possible to pull your shirt from your frame, leaving you in a sports bra with more bruises filling into view.

Pope shuffled over next, pushing pillows behind your back so you could lean against them a bit more comfortably. He took some of the supplies from Sarah’s hands and gently applied some Neosporin to the small cut on your cheek from Barry’s rings. 

JJ’s vision was red as he took in the sight of you. He was supposed to stop this from happening, supposed to protect you as your older brother from the shitty people in your life. This was never supposed to happen. “I’m going to fucking kill him. Let’s go, John B.” The threat was real, all of you knew that. Once JJ got in a mindset like this, it was hard to pull him out of it. 

“Jayje.” 

The nickname was quiet coming from you. It was enough to snap him out of his rage for a moment, taking a second to consider his actions before he was replacing Kie’s spot and holding an ice pack against your injuries. He could see the heaviness in your eyes and knew it was taking a toll.

“I know you’re tired, but you have to stay awake.” JJ watched as you took a shaky breath but nodded slightly to him nonetheless. “Tell me what happened.”

Sarah had wrapped herself in John B’s arms, still shaken at the turn of events. “We were just watching the movie and heard this crashing noise from outside, so we went to investigate. Barry showed up right after.”

“Said it was a message to you and Dad,” You finished her story and blinked up at your brother with teary eyes. “I’m scared, J. What if he comes back?”

JJ was fighting every urge to bust through the door and teach the drug dealer exactly who he was messing with. He knew it wasn’t the time or place. “Not gonna happen. Not with me here, okay? I’m sorry, Y/N. I should’ve been here.”

“It’s not your fault. He’s a raging psychopath, can’t exactly predict when he’s coming. Just promise me you won’t do something stupid? Any of you.” Your comment was directed to the three boys, more so John B and JJ knowing they would take off as soon as you fell asleep. 

It took some convincing for everyone to settle down and eventually, the six of you agreed to finish the movie you and Sarah had started hours before but never finished. You had fallen asleep soon after, wrapped in various blankets and tucked in between JJ and Kie as the sound of the TV lulled you into a deep slumber.

JJ was still raging, even if he wouldn’t admit it. He couldn’t stand the thought of someone putting their hands on you in regard to the shitty things he and your dad did. It made him sick to think that you would pay for their mistakes. You, who had absolutely nothing to do with the chaos he put you through.

John B glanced back at your brother, having a sense that he hadn’t let it drop. One look from JJ confirmed the Routledge boy’s suspicion: nobody messed with their baby Pogue and they’d make sure of it.

--

navigation 

[fatuismooches]

So I saw you were chill with asks and stuff so I hope your okay with me just tossing all of my soft stupid dottore thoughts on you. But just you can't convince me he has a complete grasp of relationships like because of the Akademiya and the Fatui he's used to transactional relationships so he's not used to people just 🌟doing things🌟 for him because they like him and want to so he's just enamored but also confused with you when you go slightly out of your way for him

YESSSS I COMPLETELY AGREE!

As a student in the Akademiya, Zandik was used to being generally disliked, but, he was also used to the few people who would come up to him and attempt to work with him, claiming that they admired his genius. Which wasn't a lie, though they forgot to mention the part where they would try to steal his work. It would bring far too much attention to him if he took any drastic measures against these fake scholars, so he merely... scared them away, which was relatively easy. Zandik had virtually no relationships, and the ones he did were simply transactional regarding... perhaps it's better not to say.

So when you approach him to be your partner, he already knows there's only one possible way that this can go - he'll never see you again by the time he's done with you. He always manipulates people and has no remorse for doing so. Yet despite his numerous attempts, he hears a knock on his door every day from you. He's not sure if you're playing dumb on purpose or if you actually are dumb enough to not see that he's attempting to get rid of you.

Though, Dottore starts to notice that he's checking the time frequently to see if you'll knock at the time you usually do. He begins to notice when you get him coffee refills and state that you figured it'll be a long night. When someone name-called him and you almost assaulted the guy with a textbook. When you stick around despite his vehement denials of your presence, which grow weaker with every passing day.

What really hit the nail on the head was the time he offhandedly mentioned his interest in certain parts that were on sale, though they were too expensive for him right now. You looked at him thoughtfully, and the next day he did not hear the knock-knock he secretly longed to hear, which disappointed him almost disgustingly so. He wondered if he finally scared you off, which was his intent in the first place. After all, the only relationships he had room for were purely transactional ones. Any others were a scam anyway. So why did he feel like this? Yet the next day, bright and early, you banged down his door, and he was about to snap at whoever it was until you tiredly dumped a bunch of random parts into his arms, some clanging to the floor. You breezed past him and collapsed onto his bed, claiming that you did dozens of commissions yesterday and brought the stuff for him. And you were going to take a nap now, you finished.

Zandik did not know how to respond, though his agape mouth would have said it all if his mask didn't cover it. You? Did all of that work? For him? He simply could not believe it. Surely, positively, there was an ulterior motive. For the next week, he dug into you, questions and all, trying to identify something. Yet he came up empty-handed. For once in his life, he came to the fact that you did not consider this a transactional relationship. You just wanted to be with him.

Dottore was a mixture of enamored, confused, and how to go from there. He is truly baffled by this habit of yours, yet he can't help but be a bit fascinated, for how naive do you have to be to do this? Haven't you heard the rumors? Don't you know he's a monster? Yet he gets irrationally bothered when you treat others the same way. You're not supposed to do that. (He starts to drag you away before anyone tries to ask you for a favor. Only he should be able to have you. And he doesn't intend to let you go.)

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

AITA for "gossiping" about a coworker?

I (27m) work in a liquor store and am quite genuinely the most competent employee despite having been until very recently the newest. Other than the owner, there are 2 who've worked there longer than me and both of them (I'll call em C (31m) and M(39f) have made much less effort to learn about liquor or even, quite frankly, people skills than I have. And lemme tell you, I started out very socially anxious. I'm a regular socialite now.

So C, at least, has a really good work ethic. He's not super socially adept with customers but he makes up for it by going above and beyond, like taking initiative to do a lot of the relatively "shit" work that the rest of us don't wanna do. I'd also say I get along with him very well bc he's pretty intelligent and open-minded.

M, meanwhile, is genuinely the most simple-minded person I've ever known in my life. The good thing is that she seems to be kind of self-aware of not being very smart and able to be a good sport about it (ngl it helps that I'm gay and she's the type to want a sassy gbf so i can kinda get away with being mean as a joke) - and she is also often just as self-aware about the fact that she doesn't do shit at work. Like she'll literally pause deliveries just bc she doesn't feel like driving, she never takes out trash, she's basically always late, she mentally shuts down at the prospect of any math despite working with money, she has little to no decision-making skills either, she spends half her shift in the bathroom and the other half literally playing solitaire, she isn't able to help customers with shit bc she's never made an effort to learn about anything we sell, etc. But she's nice, and we really don't need her help that much with anything other than just having people behind the counter.

And that's more or less what I told the newest hire, S(25F). It was in the context of explaining exactly how incredibly easy this job is - that basically almost nothing was gonna be expected of her. As examples I told her how M does the least here by far after being here for over 2 years and is at no risk of being fired. I really didn't think much of it bc my intentions were purely to point out that this is a chill job.

But a few weeks later, seemingly at random, M kinda blew up at me for being "disrespectful" about something entirely unrelated. In short it was a matter of me getting a little too comfortable joking about her incompetence in front of a customer, and I hadn't realized in this particular instance it would be upsetting but I understood after the fact and I apologized. She responded literally ONLY by saying "you're not gonna disrespect me, I'm grown" and went on to literally just leave for the day. I was baffled, but when I saw her next I basically immediately gave another apology. She explained then that the reason she was upset was that the new girl S told her that I said she was the laziest one here, saying "I thought we were friends."

I obviously tried to apologize profusely, promising her that it wasn't a "talking shit" sort of thing and trying to explain the context of that, etc. But also I think it's pretty fucking rich and kinda insane of her to be so upset that I said she was lazy. She says so herself, all the time. Also the fact that S would tell M about this conversation and clearly either leave out the context or just do nothing to dissuade M from being upset about it.... Basically idk if I should feel bad about this. In the future I won't be talking shit to S just pragmatically speaking but WAS i wrong to do it at all? AITA?

What are these acronyms?

[renxzs]

Aelin Week - Day 6: Rowaelin | @rowaelinscourt | AO3 | Masterlist

Summary: Aelin is having a very bad day… or week. Okay, more like a very bad year. She’s in dire need of a little kindness and comfort. Although she tries to deny herself of it, feeling utterly undeserving—Rowan Whitethorn will deny her none of it.

Word Count: 3.5k

CW: basically shameless smut (18+ only), hurt/comfort, mutual pining, depressive thoughts, Aelin desperately needs a hug, mention of parental deaths, coworkers who become..a bit more, modern au

I won't always have the words  to pull you back from the dark.

But I will always be here  to sit with you in it  and take your hand or wrap my arms around you  until it passes.

For every day of sunshine  there will be a night of darkness, 

but I want to spend  both of them with you.

—S.K. Williams

Arobynn Hamel, her prick of a boss, slowly shook his head as the crease between his brows deepened. He flipped harshly through the pages of the case folder she had handed him moments ago.

Aelin’s body went rigid, preparing for whatever verbal lashing he was about to spew. Entirely negating the amount of time and effort she poured into this case over the last two weeks, discounting hard work she was actually proud of. 

She would not allow him the satisfaction of seeing the effect his condescension had on her, how truly deep it sometimes cut. She maintained a look of impassivity and waited.

“This is your best work? Really?” Arobynn scoffed derisively and leveled her with a hard stare, contempt rolling off him. Aelin focused on breathing steadily through her nose.

“If this is it, then I need you to do the fucking best of someone better.” His words were small glass shards being hurled at her, slicing and stinging upon contact. She curled her shaking hands into tight fists on her lap, nails digging into the flesh of her palms. 

Today had been shit, the general week a living hell. 

Then again, Aelin couldn’t honestly say many of her weeks spanning the past twelve months have been much different. 

This weekend marked the one-year death anniversary of her parents. One year since the tragic accident that  had left her entirely alone in this world. One year since unwavering guilt and shame had settled and made a home in her chest. 

Spoken out of hurt and anger amidst a heated argument, those final words to her parents only a handful of hours before they were just… gone would haunt her until the dark god came to claim her. 

Aelin could usually endure Arobynn’s volatile mood swings and mistreatment—weather the rage storm and emerge from his office relatively unscathed.

But this particular week…?

The very moment consciousness had greeted her this morning, she knew she should have stayed curled under the blankets and out of reach from the rest of the world.

Aelin expelled a long breath. It did nothing to relieve the heaviness twisting in her gut and weighing in her bones. It was a marvel how one could feel so heavy yet utterly empty at the same time.

She tipped her drained glass towards the nearby bartender. “Another, please.”

A moment later, a new glass was slid in front of her and her eyes fell to the sloshing liquid. She must look as pathetically dejected as she presently felt, considering the very generous pour. 

A chill of awareness pricked across her nape and skittered down the smooth curve of her spine as a presence sidled up next to her. Quiet flutters stirred low in her belly, and Aelin cursed her traitorous body’s response to his proximity.

Because of course it was him—she knew it was him without needing to look. It was as if she had a preternatural sense specially tuned to him. And she’d been more than aware of his presence across the room—felt him all evening. Those piercing green eyes boring into the back of her. 

Aelin refused to look at him. “Can I help you, Whitethorn?”

“You know,” he drawled, leaning his forearms onto the bar top next to her. “Agreeing to drinks after work typically entails actually sitting within the remote vicinity of those who extended the invitation.”

Aelin lifted the glass of dark amber liquid to her lips and took a long, pointed sip before speaking cooly, “I’m here for the drinks, not the company.”

Rowan slid into the vacant stool next to her. 

Not easily deterred, then.

A few silent minutes passed between them. Rowan patiently waited, watching her still. Aelin inhaled a long breath as frustration started to build. Couldn’t he just leave her alone to sulk in solitude? 

“What do you want, Whitethorn?” 

She couldn’t fully tamper the edge in her voice. All the better though. Maybe he’d take the hint and finally rejoin his rightful group of coworker-turned-friends.

The heat of Rowan’s gaze flitted across the side of her face. She took another drink. 

“Are you okay?” His soft sincerity caused her chest to constrict.

“Christ, Aelin—what do I even pay you for?” Arobynn flung the heavy file folder back across the desk at her. “Being a pretty face around the firm? You barely manage that lately.”

Her eyes closed against the resurfacing memory. The slight burn of unbidden tears pricked in her nose. Aelin sniffed then cleared her throat before speaking. “I’m fine.” 

Aelin met his stare in challenge, to show just how fine she was. But her voice had sounded strained, even to her own ears. It hadn’t gone unnoticed by Rowan either, if the gentle look of disbelief and concern were any indication.

Her chest felt like it was going to cave in. She couldn’t stand him looking at her like that. She didn’t need his kindness or concern. 

Didn’t deserve it.

Yet Rowan is always so fucking nice to her. Checking in during the day and inviting her to outings with their coworkers. Most recently, he’s started bringing his lunch over to eat at her desk once he realized she was never going to take him up on the invitation to join him and the others in the break room. 

Time and time again, he has tried to scale the icy fortress she’s spent years carefully constructing around herself. Yet his efforts seemingly remained undeterred, even with her doubled efforts to keep all others out throughout this past year of hell. 

Aelin threw back the last of her drink. She needed to get away from him before he made a crack in her barrier. Only the gods know he’s come close before. And something deep, deep down screamed at her to let him do it.

But once he did crack her open, only to find cold, ugly darkness seeping out—what then? He’d inevitably discard her like everyone else. Because why would he want that? Why would anyone? 

She couldn’t bare it. Couldn’t risk the hope of maybe having him just to lose him and have her chest hallowed out once more. 

Aelin slid from her seat and threw a few bills onto the bar top.

“Hey, hey—Aelin.” Rowan reached for her arm.

She whipped towards him with a withering glare that could usually send anyone running. Rowan didn’t falter.

“Talk to me,” he implored. 

“Why do you even care?” She demanded. 

Still seated, Rowan tugged her into the space between his legs. A quiet sadness swirled with the flecks of deep green in his eyes. 

“I just… do.” 

Aelin’s heart felt crumpled and emotionally stripped. 

Home. She just wanted to go home and curl up in her bed. Wanted to be done with this day—this dreaded weekend. 

“You shouldn’t.” 

Her lips pressed into a firm line to keep from wobbling.  Her gaze lingered in the direction of their coworkers huddled together in a circular booth. Laughing and joking and clinking glasses. Rowan should be over there with them, not here attending to her mess. 

She averted her eyes upwards, blinking a few times to keep impending tears at bay. A calloused hand smoothed down her arm until he wrapped his hand around hers. He squeezed gently.

“What do you need?”

A single tear streaked her cheek. Rowan’s free hand gently wiped it away. He kept quiet, but she didn’t even know what to say. What did she need?

So many things, all seemingly out of reach. 

So often the silence was deafening and the loneliness gutting within the dark place she’s locked herself, behind the icy fortress wall. Numbed for so long, she’s forgotten what it feels like to live. 

The silence stretched between them before she finally rasped, “To feel something.”

Rowan traced a thumb along her cheek. “Then let me help you feel.”

His words hung between them, their implication glaring and heavy. Every nerve in her body roared for his touch, his kindness, his comfort. Him. 

Aelin’s denied herself of all of it for so long, from anyone. Let alone from this beautiful man who refuses to let her fade to the black nothingness constantly on the brink of consuming her whole. This man who has unknowingly taken hold of her beaten down heart, bit by bit. 

Just this once. 

Just this once she could allow herself to give in, to  want him. Just for tonight. 

Her voice barely a whisper above the din of the bar, “Yes.” 

His small answering smile so soft, so warm, it made her chest ache. 

~

Aelin toed off her heels before stepping past the entry way. Her eyes flitted around the apartment, tidy and warm. Her focus snagged momentarily on a bookshelf nestled against the far wall. The spines a variety of colors, sizes, and conditions of wear. She was inclined to step closer and nose through what kinds of books filled his shelves, to gain a small insight into his mind—

Rowan moving deeper into the living room caught her eye though, and she turned to watch him ease onto a plush sofa. He offered her one of his rare soft smiles, then reached a hand out. 

“C’mere.”

Aelin approached him slowly until she stood between his parted legs. He looked so good like that, splayed out lazily. Lap and warm smile more than inviting. Heat emanated from his large hands as he gently gripped her hips. She didn’t resist, allowing him to settle her astride his muscled thighs. 

Her form-fitted work skirt rucked up to her hips so her legs could accommodate his width. Deep green eyes devoured the newly exposed skin, tracing calloused hands up the soft flesh before hooking behind her to pull her impossibly closer. 

Aelin’s stomach curled and skin pricked with the intimacy of their position. Never imagined they would ever be this close—never allowed herself to.

Rowan ran a hand up her back and she arched gently into the touch, chest pressing into his. It’d been so long since she was last touched like this. Her body craved it. 

So did her heart.

She closed her eyes against that thought. 

“This is just sex.” 

Rowan hummed noncommittally. He brushed loose tendrils from her face and smoothed them behind her ear. Her chest tightened as she settled her gaze back on him. 

“I’m serious, Rowan,” she hedged. 

He nodded softly, running a thumb along her jawline, over her bottom lip. “Is that truly what you want?” his voice hushed.

Was it? No. At least she didn’t think so. But…

“It has to be,” she whispered, resolute. 

His eyes pierced through her, burned to her very soul. As if he could unearth all of her darkest thoughts and secrets and turn them to ash.

“Why?”

Because I am nothing. Worthless. And you should be running—away from this, away from me. 

She wanted to push him away, protect him from herself. Instead her fingers flexed in the soft silvery hair at his nape. The tightness in her chest splintered out as unwanted emotions and thoughts bubbled to the surface, a familiar numbing ache seeping into the hollow parts.

A slow, sad shake of her head. “I have nothing to give.”

Something crumpled behind those pretty green eyes. Then Rowan pulled her face closer, grazing his lips over hers. “I don’t want anything.” The featherlight touch of his lips as he spoke sent a chill up her spine. “Just you, Aelin.”

His words… the way her name sounded on his tongue—it fractured something deep within. And she was helpless to the sob that racked up through her body. No one has ever wanted her before, not for just her.

“Shhh,” Rowan soothed. “I’ve got you.” He gently wiped the salty streaks from her flushed cheeks. Ran soothing fingers through her long golden waves. Held her so close to stave off any fears that he’d let her go. “I’ve got you,” he repeated.

Aelin nuzzled into the crook of his neck, too far past the ability to feel embarrassed over her tears seeping into his shirt collar and skin. Rowan didn’t seem to care anyways. So she sunk into him—reveled in the strength and warmth of his arms wrapped tightly around her. Tentatively allowed herself to be comforted by his unyielding presence. 

It wasn’t until her breathing had steadied and the dampness on her cheeks nearly dried that she pulled back to find eyes open and searching, a gentle caress across her face. 

She stared back, in disbelief of this man and his kindness and his heart. Always so stoic and broody to the outside world… but for whatever reason she’d always had a special pass to the softer, gentler parts of him. Gods knew she’d done nothing to earn that trust of vulnerability.

But she was… thankful, anyways. And she wanted him to know. She could at least give him this. 

Aelin swallowed then placed a gentle hand along his jaw. “Rowan…” she rasped, voice not sounding like her own, hoarse with spent emotion. 

The rest of her gratitudes died on her tongue. She wasn’t any good at these kinds of things. Aelin resolved to showing him then.

His eyes didn’t leave hers as she shifted on his lap, tilting his head back so she could lean over him. Their breaths mingled in the space between them, then Aelin pressed her lips to his. Rowan didn’t hesitate in returning the kiss, slow and deep.

Her mother used to always say Aelin was born with wildfire in her heart. Burning bright and wild, yielding to nothing and no one. Always one to unapologetically blaze her own trail. And oh, how far Aelin has fallen from that little girl once with wildfire. Her heart has been cold and shrouded in darkness for so long, she didn’t remember what it felt like to burn.

Until now. As Rowan breathed flame back into her and it crackled through her blood with every touch and brush of lips. This single kiss fractured her very foundation and reforged her anew. 

A prolonged moan fell from her lips as Rowan’s hands ran down her body then back up her bare thighs, smoothing around to knead and cup her ass. Using the leverage, he ground her thinly cladded core against his straining arousal and devoured the little gasps and whimpers coaxed from her. 

Aelin broke away and pressed open mouthed kisses along his strong jawline as deft fingers worked the front buttons of his dress shirt, only pausing for him to yank hers overhead. The second it was off, her mouth and hands were back on him—touching, licking, tasting. 

Her bra was next to go and Rowan soaked in the sight with pupils blown wide. He almost looked crazed with want, and hell—maybe he was. She surely was. 

The corner of her mouth tugged into a small smirk before tangling her fingers into his hair and guiding him back to her in a messy kiss. Rowan licked into her mouth and greedily swallowed her moan when his fingers slipped beneath the hem of her underwear. And he was so good.

All coherent thoughts fell away. Leaving her with just the feel of him beneath her—of them, moving together.

“Rowan,” she panted, hips rolling against his very skilled fingers. 

Small hands flitted over broad shoulders, across the expanse of firm chest, over thick biceps, into silvery tendrils—unable to decide where to land. Entirely overwhelmed with an incessant need for him—for more. 

Finally her hands landed on his belt buckle, then the button and zipper of his slacks. Shimmying them and his boxers down just enough to free his cock. Her mouth went dry at the sight of him, jutting proud and  head glistening with his desire. The urge to wrap her mouth around him pulsed through her. But first—

Aelin rose on her knees to align herself above him. Rowan’s eyes widened slightly and gripped her hips to keep her from sinking down.

“Aelin… like this?”

His eyes darted over their still half-clothed bodies then back up to her face as if he were asking, Here? She was sure he had a perfectly fine bed somewhere but Aelin swore she was going to die from scorching need if she didn’t have him in the next five seconds.

She didn’t need romantic gestures and soft mattresses. Just to be filled with him, consumed by him.

Aelin nodded emphatically. “Please.” Desperation to feel something—to connect—threatened to swallow her whole.

A look passed through the green depths of his eyes and she knew he understood. Rowan pressed a kiss to her sternum. “Okay, sweetheart,” he murmured. “Tell me how you need it.”

“Hard.”

Mischief glinted in his eyes as he smirked up at her and her stomach flipped. “As you wish.”

Rowan’s mouth crashed against hers in a bruising kiss—demanding, claiming. His thumb hooked and pulled aside the dainty lace that still covered her core, and guided her down onto his cock. 

A throaty whimper fell from her. The way he stretched her open fell just on the side of painful, stealing the breath from her lungs.

“Fuuuck, Aelin,” he groaned. “So fucking tight.”

Before she could fully adjust to his size, Rowan snapped his hips and set into a punishing pace. And she was glad for it—eager to be ruined by him.

Aelin’s head fell back with a cry.

All she could do was hold on, nails digging into beautiful bronze tattooed skin, and lose herself to the burn building within her. Nothing else mattered outside this moment, outside of them and the way he made the flames flicker and dance in her soul.

Rowan wound long gold tresses around a hand and tugged to draw her head back, keeping the hold on her hair taught. Aelin moaned and arched just as he nipped at the exposed skin before licking up the length of her throat.

“Rowan, please,” she begged. Desperate for a release that dangled just out of reach.

Rowan latched on to her pulse point and pressed a thumb to her clit, the added sensations just what she needed to be sent hurtling over the edge with his name singed on her lips.

His breaths turned jagged while he shook with restraint. “Again,” he ground out. Molten pleasure sparked through her core in response to the command. 

Aelin rolled her hips into his, milking the drag of his swollen cock along her oversensitive inner walls. All the while his ministrations didn’t falter, thumb still pressing tight circles against her clit. The the pleasure sharp and bordering too much.

Her nails dug deeper into his heated skin, she wouldn’t be surprised if she drew blood and— 

O-oH, gods!

Rowan grunted as her body began contracting around him again, and a prolonged moan fell from her lips as she drowned once more in a blanketed wave of pleasure. He thrusted one final time before spilling deep into her and joining her in bliss.

Golden waves tumbled down her back as Rowan finally released his hold. He sagged against the sofa cushions, bringing Aelin with him, both of them panting and boneless.

Minutes ticked past, maybe hours. It didn’t really matter as she’d lost all concept of time. Only aware of the warm drag of his fingers up and down her back; of  the soft brush of his lips against her temple. 

Rowan shifted beneath her, slipping out, then effortlessly hauled them both up from the sofa. Aelin’s legs wrapped around him as he carried her deeper into the apartment. 

A mattress gave way at her back as Rowan gently lowered her to the bed. He looked her over for a moment with shining eyes and a soft smile before wordlessly removing her remaining garments, leaving her fully bare before him. 

With eyes glued to her lithe body sprawled out across his bed, Rowan groaned in appreciation while discarding the rest of his own clothes. 

Aelin sucked in a breath. 

He was glorious standing there in the nude—all corded muscle, bronze skin, and tattoos. 

Heat reignited in her core. 

Rowan eased onto the bed and crawled slowly up her body, kissing and nipping along the way. Aelin stretched beneath him and arched into his touch. His hand ran up along her ribcage, thumb brushing the  underside of her breast.

“Gods, Aelin, you’re beautiful.” His reverence washed over her with gentle warmth.

She smiled lazily. “I know.”

Rowan snorted, a broad grin stretching across his handsome face. “There you are,” he murmured. 

Yes, there she was. With the whisper of a flame finally flickering back to life in her heart. 

The smile remained until Rowan leaned down to capture her awaiting lips once more. 

--

Masterlist

[tabbyhoney]

Gorgeous

Inspired by "Fear of you" from @sleepwalkersqueen

Note:The first chapter is done! My current goal is to write a chapter for each week but maybe it will take two weeks sometime but that is an issue for future me. I am really excited to see some feedback and how you guys like it:). On another note, while I try my best to keep a relatively straight line and facts with the original story some things might be wrong, please feel free to correct me if it happens ♥️. My current goal is a total of 5 chapters since I only want these to be a relatively short story that doesn't rewrite too much stuff happening in the original story because I obviously don't just wanna rewrite the fic. Please enjoy!

Next>>

Warnings: I am not a therapist so please take everything written here not as a prime example or as a fact, mention of torture, curse words

Chapter 1

I always wanted to see what more Tartarus had to offer. I wanted to explore every single floor there was. Meeting a new and more dangerous villain each day. Getting to know their thought process, if there really was a bigger masterplan behind it.

Answering my questions that spiraled in my brain like an endless loop. Are they actually wicked? Do they have any sign of humanity in them? Are they just broken souls? Can such a broken mind be fixed? Cliché I know.

All these questions are the real reason why I wanted to work here. Luck was on my side at the time I applied, because they wanted to test out if a therapist might be able to help them with their work (Which basically summarized that they wanted to get more information out of the patients).

But even when I worked with them they still continued with the methods they used before. This did not help make progress since I also had to work with their new experienced trauma which was already bigger than the universe.

If I am honest they were hesitant to hire me, since I graduated young from university and had no experience whatsoever. It took over a month and another month of internship to make them believe that I was cut out for the job. Even now they still don't fully trust me with their whole system. After all, I was a weak point for them.

Once I had the job I was more than thrilled. Finally able to do what I dreamed of since I was a kid. Even though there was still much to achieve. Of course, there is also the aspect of trying to make them stop their own ways for mine to finally be able to bloom just a little bit.

Seeing the number two pro hero walk up to me one day with his mighty steps that sounded like mountains crashing together I would lie if I said I didn't feel my heartbeat stop for a moment. Let alone when he talked to me for two seconds before giving me all I ever wanted with his angry and demanding attitude.

The moment I was granted this wish of mine I regretted it. Not because I stopped believing in my dream but because seeing the actual part of no one should know is frightening. Frightening might even be an understatement.

Their voice, movements, and the way their bodies looked were scaringly disgusting. The air smelt rotten and it was cold not only because of the temperature. People are being drugged out of their brains to keep them calm, they all look like corpses that have been exposed to warmth and air for too long.

From my plain observation, it even seemed like mutants are treated worse than the other prisoners. Which is a common thing even in normal standards of society. I cannot even blame them because mutants can be incredibly scary.

Tartarus. A name that ran a chill down each villain's spine. A place where the moment you step into you may never escape alive. Rumors spread across the underground like wildfire. About what will happen once you are captured and what you have to endure.

The villains that are imprisoned in Tartarus don't make the facility this scary I realized. Maybe the good people think that they are the reason for all this talk, but this is where they are wrong.

"Do whatever you want"

Just remembering those four simple words made my skin crawl. Goosebumps spread across my body. A sentence you might say to a child that you have no interest in dealing with. Or maybe to your trusted hairstylist.

But not to a licensed therapist who is capable of either destroying you or building you back up. Or to the guards who held the interrogation.

The meaning behind the words held something so incredibly heavy I wanted to forget every memory of someone saying these words, no matter who or when.

Because they meant it. They didn't care if I did my job right or not because I wasn't even supposed to be there. I could do whatever I wanted with the person in front of me. The people who have no way of defending themselves because of their chains and quirk suppressors.

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

The air in the small bright room was filled with tension that I created by possibly the worst mistake ever. The guards who were still in the room with me looked at me confused. The only comfort I had at the moment was that the person I directed the mistake to couldn't answer at the moment. But even seeing his eyes shoot up was enough to make me rethink my life choices.

I can clearly feel my face losing its color out of shock from my totally unprofessional behaviour.

"you're so gorgeous"

Whatever ghost possessed me to say that clearly needed new activities to entertain themselves.

With the love for everything I possessed, I cleared my throat and sat down on the chair at the table they provided.

"You can take off the muzzle" my voice rang through the empty room with an echo. It left a chill in my body hearing it so metallic.

The guards hesitated for a moment before they actually started doing their job. They left the room when I gave them another glare, signaling to give us privacy like I asked them to.

Takami-San looked physically exhausted yet his eyes remained sharpness that you don't see very often in patients around here. He had a big grin on his face that I wished I could just wipe off of his face, even if I was the cause of this.

For some reason, he stayed silent. Maybe it was because he was already taunting me or he was waiting for me to introduce myself, I couldn't tell.

"I am Howashi Amaya, I will be your assigned therapist" I introduced myself, a genuine and respectful smile resting on my face.

"Therapist? Sounds fake, they don't care about how fucked up I am" he tilts his head to the side, eyeing me up and down like a bird.

"You're right they don't care, which is why they told me to do whatever I want"

For some odd reason, he seemed to tense up from these words, I wonder why.

"So I decided to just do what I am best at"

"Being a charming girl?"

At that, I took a deep breath. I scrunched my face and looked down at my empty sheet of paper.

When I looked back up he was grinning again god he looked so good stupid.

"Actually no. I meant I will try to help you"

"Help me get out of this shithole?"

"not really I am afraid"

"Ahh shucks"

I waited for a second before actually starting my usual procedure. Which on second thought seemed to be a little too late.

"How has it been?" I click my pen while looking at him, ready to write down whatever I could tell from his response.

"Really? Do you actually ask people this in fucking prison?" His voice sounds raspy.

"I didn't ask how you felt, just how it has been. You could answer nearly everything on it. How you feel, how the people treated you-"

"fucking brilliant, you should get a medal for being a smartass"

"Thank you for calling me smart, I appreciate it"

I silently tap my pen on the paper. Waiting for any kind of reaction from him. As the silence settled I started to notice some weird marks on his neck, they looked kinda infected.

"What do you have on your neck there?" I gestured with the pen on my own neck.

As soon as the question was spoken he tensed and looked more traumatized than a baby chicken that just discovered the big scary world. He broke off the eye contact he previously held with me. His body huddled up in an attempt to look smaller and protect himself, probably with his wings but he wasn't able to do it. Uncomfortable if I need to describe it in one word.

I probably don't need a deeper answer to figure out why they might be there. I silently stand up and walk around the table. He tried to move away from my hands when I reached out but because of the chains, he couldn't move far enough away.

Ever so gently I pulled the collar down and placed my hands on the marks. A familiar warmth spread across my hands and I started to feel how the infected wounds closed and healed.

When I was done I took a step back looking satisfied down at him before returning to my chair.

"Aye... Of course, the doctor has a healing quirk" he mumbles silently.

"Do you have anything you wanna talk about?"

" Aye, why are you here? Never heard of someone like you even working here. Doesn't seem like their style to hire a fucking therapist to fix me or anyone really"

"Good question" I nod in agreement "The answer is simple, I am the only therapist around here. That is why you've never heard of me. The last question shouldn't bother you too much after all you have been here for quite some time and are already in debt worth more than my monthly check"

"Have you ever seen a therapist before?" I ask with a light smile on my face.

"Do I fucking look like it?"

Silence.

"Besides I don't need another bitch asking me any more questions, I have the sparkler for that"

"Sparkler? You mean the number two?"

"Nah I mean the nice guard's captain obvious"

Another silence.

"And I don't need anyone knowing about the stuff I tell him, it's private business." He said in an oddly calm voice.

That certainly amazed me, since I have seen all the recordings of their talk, except the first one. So he wasn't aware that everyone was still listening in. Maybe this will one day be their downfall, why would he be so stern about keeping this a secret if it wasn't necessary.

"Why should no one listen in?"

"Because I said so"

This will be a lot of fun.

"Well with me you can talk about everything you share with Endeavour. No one is listening or watching. I like to keep my talks up to my hands, especially what I share with the government"

And that was not a lie.

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

The room was filled with the sunlight shining through the window above the kitchen counter. The light shone through the leaves of the plants sitting at the window.

It was peaceful. The air was fresh and smelled faintly of fish and rice.

The only sound that destroyed the peace was the TV that played the news

Yet the only real news would be that someone escaped Tartarus and that still isn't public information. I wonder what will happen once the public knows.

Once I turned the TV off the silence that came with it was broken with a call. When I read who was calling I felt my mood drop just a little bit.

"Howashi speaking, what can I help you with today hottest hero in Japan"

"He escaped me!" The man yelled angrily, ignoring my terrible joke.

"who escaped you?" I ask grinning widely.

"Takami! That fucking mutant had his brat stealing my wife's necklace"

He has a child? Now that is a surprise. Even a bigger surprise was that he was stupid enough to let his child steal something from him.

"And how is that my problem?" I ask while standing up and staring out the window biting my nails.

"You worked with him for five years! You know exactly what is going on in his stupid birdbrain" Endeavour yelled. I am not even sure why he is yelling at me, I would hear him loud and clear with a normal tone.

"First of all that is extremely rude talking about mutants like that, I am one as well after all, and not even different from Shinyo. Second just because I worked with him does not mean I understand everything he does"

"But you know where he might go"

I nervously tap my fingers on the kitchen counter. Closing my eyes to contemplate if I actually know where he might go.

If I break it down it comes back to one thing, he has a child and is currently taking care of them. But knowing he has unfinished business makes it counterproductive to take care of a child who has to be at least five or four years old. He probably didn't even know the child existed since he never talked about having one, only about his wife Nitsuki.

Nitsuki? Right, he might be searching for her so he can give her the child. But why wasn't she with them?

"I might have an idea but to be honest it is not crystal clear that he is with her"

"Her?"

"Takami Nitsuki, his wife. If he has a child he will certainly not have any time to deal with it and will try to bring it back. The only question I still have is if she really left the child alone and why he has to bring it back"

"Those are two questions and I want you to come to my agency to discuss this further" he demanded. Almost sounded like I didn't have a choice.

"Alright, I can fly over, when?"

"Now" and he hung up the phone after that. Not even a goodbye.

Once I was dressed and didn't look like I just got out of bed. I walk outside of my apartment building taking off my suppressors.

Once I felt the warmth on my back and my wings regrowing I took a small jump before dashing into the air.

I just hope this story will end on a relatively good note.

[miracles-and-butterflies]

Encanto Ride the Cyclone AU.

For @glowing-celesticpetals, based on the prompt: “maybe something about Antonio or Bruno in the Ride the Cyclone Au?”

This is the last you’ll see of the living side; the family grieving the loss of the four children.

Comments are always appreciated.

Warning, sensitive topics ahead: character death.

~~~~~~

Just Another Tragic Fact

Bruno sighed to himself.

The four gravestones, all lined up, layered in a variety of plants - Isabela would have hated it if it was all just flowers.

Here lies

Luisa Amalia Rojas Madrigal

14th November 1930 - 14th September 1951

Beloved daughter and sister.

Here lies

Camilo Valentino Estrada Madrigal

28th December 1934 - 14th September 1951

Beloved son and brother.

Here lies

Isabela Cristina Rojas Madrigal

7th August 1928 - 14th September 1951

Beloved daughter and sister.

Here lies

Dolores Victoria Estrada Madrigal

31st August 1928 - 14th September 1951

Beloved daughter, sister and partner.

Seeing it makes it real.

Not that it didn’t feel real watching the crash and seeing their dead bodies be pulled from the wreckage.

The funeral had came and went.

The loss of the children, who had been dubbed ‘Encanto’s Four Saints’, had impacted the town itself. Everyone was draped in mourning garb and music and laughter almost vanished from the streets.

But, of course, it brought the most impact to the Madrigals themselves.

“I’m sorry,” Bruno says to them.

It’s a relatively bright and dry afternoon - considering Encanto has been living in a constant storm since the Cyclone accident.

Pepa must be asleep. She’s done a lot more of that recently.

He doesn’t blame her.

“I should have seen… I should have been able to warn you. Then maybe you’d still be…” he sighs, breaking into tears again.

“Tío Bruno?”

He sniffles. “Hey, Toñito.”

“What are you doing?”

“I thought I’d just come to see them. It’s a nice day.”

“You don’t have to say ‘sorry’. You couldn’t have known what would happen at the fair.”

“No, you all couldn't have known. This is my gift. This is what I’m for. But… I didn’t even think to look and now it’s my fault they’re gone.”

“Still. You can’t blame yourself.”

Tight arms fasten around him.

Bruno accepts the hug.

It probably should be the other way around, it’s not him who has lost his siblings and cousins.

~~~~~~

Antonio doesn’t quite process that they are gone.

He knows they are dead, but… their family has a miracle, why wouldn’t it bring them back?

When a bunch of baby capybaras are born the following week, he names them after his siblings and cousins.

The quietest capybara he names Lola. She was the oldest of the four. She’s always hiding behind his legs. She insists she be carried up and down the stairs. He finds a pinkish red ribbon in Mirabel’s room that he asks his Mama to tie in a bow for Lola.

Next came Luis. He was the biggest of the litter, so Antonio didn’t need to mark him to tell him apart. Luis was more like a playful puppy than anything else, frequently managing to sneak out of Antonio’s room to wander around Casita in search of belly rubs.

Then there was Belita, or Bela, depending on whether or not Antonio was telling her off. Like her mother, Chispi, she was very confident and snarky. However, lacked her mother’s chill. She was full of energy - if Antonio didn’t put her to bed with her siblings, he would be sure she never slept.

And lastly there was Milo, possibly Antonio’s favourite but don’t tell the others. Getting his brother’s name, he was exactly like him. Mischievous, loves food, and maybe a little too dramatic. Milo was good at making him laugh and, after everything, that is what he needed.

He assembles them all before bed, so that when Mama or Papa or both of them come to read his story, they are there too.

Abuela would happily spend time babysitting the four of them while Antonio was at school.

If they came into the kitchen, Tía Julieta would offer them scraps or spare food they could eat.

Tío Agustín had built a little wooden cart that Antonio could pull them around in.

Tío Bruno pretty much adopted them alongside his many rats, as the best pets/children ever.

It was another week later that Antonio got an idea.

“What are you doing, mijo?” His mother asked one day. It was just before dinner - table already set up, but nobody had called them to eat.

Then she noticed the extra chairs and plates that had been added to the table. And Antonio having placed each capybara on their namesake’s chair, which was stacked with pillows, so their heads just about reached the table.

“I thought they could join us for dinner!” He offered. “And Chispi is here too to watch them. I got her a spare chair all by myself.”

Pepa didn’t know what to say. “Is your Abuela okay with this?”

“Why wouldn’t she be? She loves them. I saw her cuddling Milo and Lola when I came home today. I think she likes them more than Tío Bruno’s rats.” He informed, happily.

“Well, but, you know what Tía Julieta is like with animals at the table,” Pepa tried again.

“I don’t think she’ll mind. It’s like having the family back together!”

Thunder rumbled.

“I was meant to ask Bruno something,” she excused herself, brushing through her braid as she walked off.

Antonio stood in silence.

He glances at Chispi, “Did I do something wrong?”

~~~~~~

It’s a silent night.

They are slowly coming out of mourning and adjusting back to normality.

Starting to work again.

The colours of black and dark blue and dark grey begin to fade away.

The eternal storm that Encanto has been wrapped in since September is slowly breaking away. Now it is just occasional spells of heavy rain and sleet.

Antonio has long since been put to bed, with the four capybaras.

The rest of the adults stay up.

What once would have been a night of some wine, a few cards games, music and laughter, is now just a solemn conversation in the candlelight.

They ‘um’ and ‘ah’ over what could have been.

Where and what the children are doing, now that they are no longer among the living.

“And the other one?” Agustín dares to ask. “Did anyone ever come for her?”

“Was she at least identified?” Félix inquires.

“No.” Alma answers. “The order was given for her to be buried today.”

Pepa tugs at her hair, shivering. “I can’t imagine it. A child. Just like the rest of them. Except in an unmarked grave, and not a soul to care.”

“Her poor family,” Bruno remarks. “My sympathy is with them.”

“No.” Julieta shook her head. “To let their child go… and they don’t even care. They either didn’t care to look in the first place or they couldn't recognise their own bloody child. It’s horrible. They don’t deserve any sympathy.”

“Julieta!” Her mother and brother both exclaim, in shock at her attitude.

All the family is, but Agustín and Félix are stunned into silence (not that they find a fault in her statement, it’s just unexpected for her), and Pepa is already nodding her head in agreement.

“I agree.” She said, turning to Julieta. “If it was one of our babies, I would have known instantly. Heartless people.”

[dude1818]

Anime Year in Review

Last year I made a silly post ranking the three shows I happened to watch. This year, I got way more into anime (and manga), so let's do it properly this time

Revue Starlight* - Easy top star spot. This anime was flawless. I watched it twice this year and will be watching it again. The story, the animation, the music were all impeccable. The music, oh my god; I listen to the soundtrack every day. Some of my other favorites on this list I'd only recommend based on your personal tastes, but this show should be watched by everyone. (The sequel and spin-offs, not so much. They all use the revues in a way that completely undermines the premise of the main series)

Heavenly Delusion - So fucking good. Second on this list, but I think it's the best show that came out this year. Deeply traumatic, but in such a satisfying way. The horror elements were so brutal and so well done, and I love that the man-eating monsters were the least gruesome part of the show. If it wasn't for the stinker of the ice monster episode, I think this could've been my favorite anime

Call of the Night* - Adored this show. Yes it's a celebration of the hedonism of vampires, but it's so earnest and down-to-earth with it that it feels so good to watch that I did it twice (sub and dub). I also got into the manga, which is sadly wrapping up next month, but hopefully that prompts an announcement about season 2

Frieren: Beyond Journey's End - Super chill show, which is a great way to wind down the week. It's such a cool concept too, following the adventurer after the adventure is over. It's just a reflection on life and I love it

The Witch from Mercury (cour 2) - Given that I run a sideblog just for this show, it might be surprising that it's so low on my list, but the second cour was a lot weaker than the first. Not nearly enough of Suletta and Miorine interacting, and way too much chaff following Guel's B-plot. I've said it before, but I think the worst part of this Gundam show is that it's a Gundam show. A+ epilogue though, and Suletta is still my favorite character this year

Scott Pilgrim Takes Off - I enjoyed the original comic and the live action movie. I didn't realize this new adaption was really a sequel, but it ended up being a great way to bring the old story to the modern decade. (Two decades later isn't much, but it was very of-its-time)

Spy x Family (cour 2) - Very fun show. Following several viewpoint characters means the individual episodes might be hit-or-miss (as much as I love Anya, the episodes at the school are relatively bland), but the overall package was sweet and enjoyable

Nimona - Another comic I really enjoyed. The movie was strong, although it cut a lot of parts out that I thought were important to the original story

The Orbital Children - Directed by the same person who directed one of my long-time favorites (Dennou Coil), the first two acts of this really felt like a modern update. Stunning visuals, great sci-fi, thrilling adventure. Went totally off the deep in the third act, though

Joshiraku* - As the characters pointed out, adapting a manga that takes entirely inside the green room of a stand-up comedy club is an odd choice. It was off-the-charts hilarious, though. Considering some of the scripts were entirely pun-based, it must've been an immense amount of work to translate, but they absolutely pulled it off

Oshi no Ko - The only reason I watched this show was because the OP was such a banger. (Several fantastic anime songs by YOASOBI this year, and Idol is easily my favorite.) The first, feature-length episode was incredible and I literally cried at the end. If it was a stand-alone movie, it would be a couple of spots higher on this list. The rest of the show was fine, but not really what I was here for. I'll probably still watch season 2 though

Arknights: Prelude to Dawn* - I bounced off the gacha game immediately, but the worldbuilding and character designs seemed cool, so I wanted to give the anime adaptation a chance. The plot was very thin but serviceable enough. At least it looked nice to watch.

The Magical Revolution of ... - Not typing that whole thing out. It was a cute show. The yuri stuff was nice, but I wish for a show about a magical inventor, there was a non-zero amount of magical inventing shown on screen

* indicates the show aired prior to 2023

A lot of shows I really loved this year. Looking forward to next year, the anime I'm most hyped for is obviously Dungeon Meshi. It looks like it's going to be incredible. The second season of Arcane is also scheduled to come out late next year, which is also very exciting. Technically Frieren has a second cour in January, but they're airing both cours as basically a single 24-episode season, so that doesn't really count

For older shows I mean to catch up on, YouTube has recced me clips of probably every single joke from K-On!, and it's really grown on me. Definitely going to watch that soon. I'm also in the mood to watch Bocchi the Rock! again. I should also make myself watch the first couple episodes of PMMM. Nothing I've seen on Tumblr has grabbed me for that one, but it's right in the middle of some of the other shows I was gushing about here and it would be dumb not to try it

[kaistarus]

Enchanted

Chapter 4

Pair: Nishinoya X Reader

Words: 4.6K

Summary: When your best friend enters a relationship with a prince your life changes in ways you never thought possible. You gain new friendships, learn dangerous secrets, and learn that love may exist for you after all...

A/N: This is for the like two people who still ask for updates on this fic... It's been multiple years buuuuuutt I'm still kicking lmao love and appreciate you <3 better late than never right??

Prev/Next

The sunrise trickled in through the bakery's front windows, casting the store in peach hues that chased away the creeping Autumn chill. The cacophony of Yachi’s rush to complete set-up before the early risers were welcome background noises, as opposed to the usual morning doves screeching aside your bedroom. Unhelpfully, you picked freshly sliced banana bread rolling each piece into miniscule dough balls before plopping them in your mouth.

A deep sigh escaped as you dropped your forehead against the counter’s course wood. It was too early to be alive.

“You know, when you offered to help me open the bakery I thought you’d be, I don’t know, helping?” Yachi appeared, startling you by roughly placing a tray of tarts on the counter.

“Sorry,” you mumbled, propping yourself up uselessly with your cheek against your palm. You watched her swiftly arrange various baked goods–realistically you probably would’ve slowed her down. “I’m not feeling very motivated.”

“Shouldn’t you be in a good mood? I thought crushes made people all smiles and blushy,” Yachi stepped back to admire her display before pointing her empty tray accusingly at you. “You’ve been nothing but grouchy and depressing the past weeks.”

A warmth crept up your neck which you expertly covered with a sneer. After confiding in your friends that you maybe, possibly had more-than-friend feelings toward Nishinoya they haven’t failed to remind you at least five times a day. Which didn’t bode well for your attempting to forget the whole problem existed.

“It feels more like I’m going to throw up and I constantly want to punch him for ruining my ability to have a coherent thought,” you grumbled. At the mention, his stupid amber eyes flitted across your thoughts and you groaned exasperatedly. “He’s the absolute worst.”

“A tragedy I’m sure.”

As your glare turned on her the bell above the bakery’s front door chimed for the day’s first customers. Perhaps some mindless customer service would help distract you from a certain annoying royal guard. Yachi’s bakery was on the opposite side of Karasuno from the castle–you were about as safe as you could get after all.

“--me walk all the way here just so you can–”

“If you’re so sure she’s not here then what’s the problem?”

Your shoulders stiffened when your eyes snapped toward the entryway. Standing there was a relatively tall man with a shaved head, dressed in commoner clothing except for a shirt that detailed the castle insignia–a crow. Although you knew you’d never met him there was a strong tug in your mind that you should know him; as if his name was on the tip of your tongue.

Perhaps you could have remembered if it weren’t for the unfortunately, incredibly familiar man trailing after him. Your heart had mindlessly leaped at the sound of his voice and now it raced rapidly as your gaze remained glued to him. Nishinoya’s hair was flattened, blonde strands rested haphazardly against his forehead in a way that left you itching to run your fingers through them and brush them back. He dressed like his friend, the only thing signifying their roles was the castle crest on their shirts.

“She never gets up this early. Even if she did do you know how weird it’d be if I randomly… was…” Nishinoya trailed off as your eyes locked. “Aw, shit.”

His friend glanced between you before a sly grin spread across his face. Nishinoya’s eyes went wide and he attempted to grab him, “Wait, Tanaka, please I–”

“(Y/N)?”

You took in the man’s devious smile as he leaned against the counter, effectively blocking Nishinoya from view. That night in the castle’s garden rose from your memories. Kiyoko and a guard whispering low, her smile that had given you hope, Nishinoya pulling you back panicked.

“Yes,” you stuttered out, avoiding his eyes. Afraid he’d see the recognition there. “Um, and you are?”

“Tanaka, at your service,” he gave a mock bow, “I’ve heard so much about you.”

“You have?” You asked, eyes flickering toward Nishinoya who’d reddened significantly.

“You have?” Yachi piped in excitedly beside you, unhelpfully adding to the chaos.

“Oh yeah, Nishinoya never shuts up about you.”

“Not true,” Nishinoya countered. “I shut up all the time about you. I barely even talk honestly.”

You scoffed. “What a dream.”

Nishinoya managed a weak glare over Tanaka’s shoulder but was disappointedly cut off by Tanaka’s uproarious laughter. A twinge of annoyance struck noting Nishinoya’s clear discomfort, only made worse when Tanaka slung an arm around his shoulders to root him firmly in place.

“You really weren’t kidding man,” Tanaka said approvingly, shaking Nishinoya who groaned in distress.

You tilted your head, but before getting clarification Yachi asked, “So what are you both doing out here?”

“Great question,” Nishinoya muttered.

“I was just craving a muffin for breakfast,” Tanaka waved off the curiosity.

“At the crack of dawn?” You crossed your arms, giving him a skeptical once-over. “On the other side of town?”

“Food always tastes better after a long walk in the fresh morning air.”

You and Yachi exchanged a glance in disbelief. The coincidence of whatever show Tanaka was putting on felt too suspicious for this casual run-in. Nonetheless, Yachi began helping him choose between the various muffins available. Meanwhile, Nishinoya played an excellent game of avoiding eye contact at all costs.

“So, (Y/N),” Tanaka said, pulling your attention away from the other royal guard. “What are your plans for today?”

That seemed to capture Nishinoya’s attention, frantically looking between you in alarm. You raised an apprehensive brow, answering, “Helping Yachi.”

“Help is a word,” Yachi snorted. “She’s free.”

“Why are you asking?”

“Well, Noya and I were just about to head over to the lake–”

“You were just telling me how incredibly uninvited I was.” Nishinoya interrupted, but Tanaka bulldozed through him.

“--and I think you’d really enjoy it.” Tanaka leaned over the counter. “You know who will be there too. She’s been wanting to meet you.”

You blinked, slowly processing his cryptic message before your eyes shot wide. Kiyoko. A warmth spread through your cheeks–he knew. Either Nishinoya had confessed the slip-up or they’d spotted you too.

“Uh, maybe I could…” You glanced for Nishinoya’s reaction. His cheeks were a deep red, eyebrows furrowed with a piercing glare targeted at Tanaka. Your stomach rolled with the familiar nausea. “I don’t think Nishinoya would like that very much.”

He turned to you baffled, any trace of anger vanished when your eyes met. “I would.”

You blinked, attempting to divert your focus anywhere aside from the rapid pace of your heart as his amber gaze intensified. “I don’t want to overstep,” you added.

“You couldn’t over–” A crease appeared between his brow as he struggled to find the right words. “I prefer it when you’re around.”

Nishinoya’s gaze was too earnest, his smile leaving you baffled at how easily he could speak his mind. You hadn’t realized how embarrassingly long you’d been staring until Yachi began lightly nudging your side.

“Oh, uh, okay. Yeah, I’ll go,” you fumbled out, glancing at Tanaka who wore a shit-eating grin.

“Excellent.” The mischievous tone he did nothing to hide gave you a flicker of regret. That was until you glanced back at Nishinoya’s dopey grin. “Well, I’ve gotta head out to pick up milady but surely Noya’s got it from here.”

Nishinoya’s face dropped in panic, “what?”

Tanaka was out the door before any arguments could ensue; the bell’s lingering chime and a few absent muffins were the only signals he’d even been there. Nishinoya stiffly turned toward you, “I guess we should…” He gestured toward the door and you nodded absentmindedly.

As Yachi guided you around the counter it struck you that you hadn’t been alone with Nishinoya for months. Since that bizarre invitation to the castle, you had only seen each other under the pretense of his guarding Prince Kageyama. You had grown used to the buffer of your friends. When your heart beat a little too fast or the urge to touch him grew dangerously strong, they were always there to divert attention.

What were you meant to do now?

The early Autumn chill still clung to the air as you exited the bakery, drifting past various storefronts filled with early risers. Your matching footsteps echoed against desolate cobblestone streets. Nishinoya seemed lost in thought and although your walk remained fairly quiet, you were only filled with peace; as though this was a routine morning activity.

“Uh, it’ll just be a few more minutes to the treeline.” He nodded toward where the road shifted to a dirt path. Several yards further you could just spot the forest line.

“Kiyoko’s going to be there?” You asked, taking his grunt as a yes. “Where is this place? I didn’t know there was a lake out this way.”

“It’s pretty secluded. I found it while exploring the woods,” Nishinoya said with a smile, giving an eye-roll as he added. “Tanaka’s pretty much taken it over recently though. Haven’t been there in months.”

“You just wander into forests often?”

“When I was a kid sure,” he shrugged.

“How long have you lived in Karasuno?” You’d lived in Karasuno your whole life and certainly you’d remember running into him… because he’s obnoxious and weird; no other reason.

He side-eyed you, looking apologetic in his silence.

“I forgot. Guardian Deity, top secret information,” you grumbled. “So dramatic.”

He chewed his bottom lip before quietly adding, “I moved to the castle when I was thirteen.”

You paused, watching him continue ahead. “So, six years?”

“Eight.”

Your jaw dropped, rushing to catch up with him once more. “You’re twenty-one!?”

His cheeks dusted pink and he eyed you defiantly, “Yeah, twenty-two in October so… what’s that look for?”

“Nothing, I just thought you were younger than me.”

“Not into older guys?” He said with a sly smirk making you puff your cheeks in annoyance. You marched toward the forest line with your head high, ignoring his teasing calls behind you.

“Hey, c’mon, you’re going the wrong way.” He laughed, changing your marching direction by lightly adjusting your shoulders. When you both reached the supposedly right entrance to the forest you stared at him dubiously.

The ‘entrance’ looked like any other section of the tree line–overgrown grass and plant life, trees too close with branches hanging low, and roots entangled on uneven terrain. There were no clear paths to follow and you were suddenly suspicious this was all a prank.

“You have to go a little off-trail, but that’s why it’s so well hidden.”

“A little off-trail?” You scoffed, gesturing to the overgrown bush you’d need to climb over. “Nishinoya. There’s no trail to stray off.”

“But that’s half the fun,” he smirked, amused by your horror.

“I am not going in there.”

“What’s the worst that could happen?”

“We get mauled by a wild animal,” you began listing on your fingers. “I trip and hit my head on a rock and fall into a coma, or you trick me and murder me where no one will find my body.”

“I would never let any of those happen to you.” Nishinoya fought back a smile, “And I hear you’re pretty good in a fight so I’d be stupid to attempt murdering you.”

You tapped your chin. “It’s true. I have learned how to properly hold a sword.”

“A force to be reckoned with I fear.”

You sighed in defeat, “this better be the greatest lake I’ve ever seen.”

“I would never lead you astray,” he swore with a hand over his heart. You rolled your eyes at the theatrics before he held the hand toward you, wiggling his fingers for emphasis. “For safety.”

You glanced at Nishinoya, his amber eyes that couldn’t quite meet yours and his outstretched hand. With a moment’s hesitation, you took it, allowing him to lace your fingers together with a gentle, reassuring squeeze.

For safety.

He did his best to guide you through the densest of the forest, holding back branches that stuck too close and mapping out paths that held the least stray rocks or wild roots. Whenever you stumbled he reflexively steadied you before disaster. Anytime curses began flowing from your mouth he just bounced back with encouraging words and promises that the worst was almost over.

The positivity almost frustrated you more than snippy comebacks, but eventually, the woods cleared enough you could walk side-by-side without fear of consistent stumbling. Neither of you mentioned your still entwined hands, and neither attempted to separate them. After several minutes you had grown used to the warmth of his palm, the comfort of safety it brought you. Part of you dreaded releasing him, maybe you didn’t mind the forest.

That part died the moment an exit came into view.

“Slow down,” Nishinoya laughed, dragged behind you as you broke through the treeline. Your jaw went slack when your eyes adjusted to the sunlight reflecting off the shimmering lake. The grass surrounding it was a lush green, untouched by anyone aside from wildlife. And the rocky shore glistened as waves brushed against it.

You spotted Tanaka and Kiyoko seated around a handmade firepit, surrounded by a long log and several larger rocks dragged out from the woods. Tanaka waved you over and fearing more relentless teasing at Nishinoya’s expense you swiftly dropped his hand. You didn’t have time to process the disappointed look he sent you before jogging over to the others.

“You actually came!” Tanaka said, standing to greet you before the firepit.

“I said I would,” you half-smiled, glancing behind him at a waving Kiyoko who smiled politely.

“Kiyoko. This is (Y/N),” he clasped you on the shoulder which Nishinoya promptly swatted away. “She’s the one Noya’s been talking non-stop about.”

“Oh my god, no I haven’t,” Nishinoya grumbled, shoving Tanaka away. “I talk a reasonable and appropriate amount.”

“It is rather often,” Kiyoko added with a hand covering her smile. “I feel like we’re already close friends with how much I know of you.”

“Kiyoko,” Nishinoya whined in betrayal. Tanaka hurried back over, effectively pinning Nishinoya with an arm slung around his shoulder.

“Did you know he took two months of overtime to get you invited to that party at the castle?” Tanaka asked, tightening his hold on Nishinoya as his face became horror-stricken. “This is his first day off in forever.”

“Oh my god, that explains so much.” You stared at your hands as you processed. You knew it made no logical sense for you to get that invitation–Hinata’s friend or not.

“After everything I’ve done for you,” Nishinoya growled, before going weightless and pulling Tanaka to the ground with him. You stared baffled as they took turns grappling each other to the ground.

“Should we be worried about that?” You asked Kiiyoko, pointing to where Tanaka was seated firmly atop a flailing Nishinoya.

She simply shrugged. “They should be done in a few minutes.”

“Of course…” You plopped down onto the log across the fire from Kiyoko. How often do those two fight for her to wave it off so casually?

“It’s nice to have someone else around,” Kiyoko commented.

“I actually wanted to apologize,” you blurted feeling warmth creep up your neck. “I didn’t mean to–at the castle, I should’ve–”

“There’s nothing to apologize for,” she raised a confused brow. “Nishinoya trusts you. That’s enough for me.”

You fiddled with the log’s bark beneath you, fighting down the erratic beating of your heart at those implications. There was so much you wanted to ask Kiyoko, so many things you could learn from her. That happiness you’d thought a fairytale danced in her eyes even now as she watched the wrestling behind you.

You opened your mouth, closed it. Struggling to find words before she interrupted your thoughts. “You want to know how I met Tanaka?”

“You don’t have to tell me if you’re not comfortable,” you rushed.

“No, it’s okay. I would like to.” Her smile diverted to her feet as she said, “I’ve never been able to share it before.”

You blinked in surprise. The fact that she had to keep such a strong development hidden from everyone twisted your heart painfully. Even throughout whatever was developing for you, you had friends teasing you the whole way. You couldn’t imagine going through it alone.

“When I first arrived in Karasuno my family spent majority time at the palace,” she began, staring off into the distance while examining her memories. “They encouraged me to spend time with Prince Kageyama, so I was with him and Nishinoya most days.”

You nodded encouragingly, truthfully excited for any crumbs of Nishinoya's background you might be receiving. Kiyoko hesitated a moment before continuing.

“Prince Kageyama wasn’t interested in entertaining guests, so I mostly talked to Nishinoya. A bit of a flirt I’ll admit, although looking back I think it was more for entertainment than a show of interest.” She rolled her eyes and you smiled, ignoring the unreasonable pang of jealousy. “Then one day I spotted Nishinoya wandering the halls off-duty, but he wasn’t alone.”

A smile quirked on her lips. “Tanaka saw me and before we could even do introductions he was confessing his undying love.”

Your jaw dropped. You waited for her to backtrack, to break out into laughter and inform you it was an insane joke. She did not.

“And that… that worked?”

“Oh, absolutely not. I thought he was crazy,” she chuckled behind her hand, eyes darting over your shoulder. “But we somehow ended up alone quite often. And as we were talking I just… I don’t know it felt different. It felt genuine.”

You nodded in understanding, “But aren’t you scared? What if someone finds out and…”

Kiyoko shrugged. “I’d rather love him like this than never love him at all.”

You scoured her face calculatively. She did mean that. Kiyoko would rather have a few moments with him than nothing at all. It was a beautiful sentiment… one you weren’t sure you had in you to agree. That rolling nausea crept back into your stomach.

The log teetered as a warmth plopped close beside you. Nishinoya’s brief body heat did more to warm you than the low fire had throughout your entire conversation with Kiyoko.

“Miss me?” He smirked, wiggling his eyebrows. The movement emphasized crinkled leaves and twigs trapped in his unruly hair, mussed by their roughhousing. You rolled your eyes, leaning over to clean him off.

“In your dreams,” you scoffed. “I’m surprised you didn’t injure yourself.”

“Oh? Worried about me?” He teased in a way made less effective by the pink dusting his cheeks.

“Obviously.” At his surprised look, you immediately backtracked. “How can you guard my best friend’s boyfriend if you’re injured?”

An amused smile crept onto his lips. “You’re right. How can I live up to my duties as the royal boyfriend protector if I break my arm?”

You narrowed your eyes at the mocking glint in his eyes and ever so slowly crushed the leaves in your hand, sprinkling the pieces into his disheveled hair without breaking eye contact. As realization struck him a triumphant smile spread across your face.

“What the hell?” He exclaimed, ruffling his hair in an attempt to rid it of the bits that clung tightly to his brown locks.

“I try to be thoughtful and that’s the thanks I get.”

Nishinoya grumbled to himself, sending you a half-assed glare before addressing the group. “Hey Tanaka, when should we–”

Tanaka was gone. And Kiyoko was gone. You looked around the clearing frantically but couldn’t find signs of either of them; as if they’d up and disappeared.

“Don’t worry, they’re probably just making out somewhere. I’d avoid that spot specifically,” Nishinoya said, gesturing at the far end of the forest line near the lake’s edge.

“They disappeared so quickly,” you said in amazement. You hadn’t even heard them leave.

“Yeah, that’s why I don’t really hang out with them anymore.”

You studied him calculatively as he stirred the dim fire using a long stick that had been lying beside your log. Your fingers itched to run through his hair, somehow remaining soft despite the unruliness from his earlier roughhousing. His lips rested in a mindless smile as if that was their default expression when relaxed and you fought to keep composure of your heart, fearing at this distance he could hear its rhythm pounding against your ribcage. Moments like these were when you desperately relied on others to kill the mood.

“Kiyoko told me how you all met.” You blurted thoughtlessly if only to distract yourself from your inner turmoil.

“Yeah? She didn’t ruin my incredibly cool image did she?”

“You’d need to have one for her to ruin first.”

“I miss that Yamaguchi guy. We should hang out with him more.” He pouted before facing you fully, “Well, what’d Kiyoko say?”

“She just mentioned stuff about the castle, you guarding Kageyama, Tanaka confessing his undying love. All the basics.”

Nishinoya nodded as if being told old and incredibly boring news. “...and?”

“And what?”

“That’s not why you brought it up, is it?” He quirked a brow. “What else did she say?”

You chewed your lower lip as embarrassment flooded you. His watchful gaze intensified the longer you took to spit it out. “She said that you flirted with her a bit. Before Tanaka confessed or whatever.”

Nishinoya did not even attempt to hold back the excitement glittering in his eyes as he scooched closer on the log. “Did that make you jealous?”

“No,” you denied, sliding away. “I just found it interesting.”

“Oh?” His smile was downright devilish and you wanted to punch it off his dumb handsome face. “Well, would it make you feel better if I said I never genuinely flirted with her?”

“A little,” you mumbled, avoiding his amused stare.

“What if I said I’ve never genuinely flirted with anyone?” He claimed, scouring your face. “Never even really liked anyone?”

You blinked opening your mouth to say that actually would not make you feel better, thank you very much, until he added, “Until recently.”

You stared, dumbfounded. “Depends.”

“On?”

“How much you like that Yamaguchi guy.”

He narrowed his eyes unamused by the joke, “Yeah, I spend all this time embarrassing myself around you because I have a crush on that rando.”

“Don’t call Yamaguchi a rando. He’s very important to–” You blinked, slowly taking in Nishinoya’s reddened cheeks. “Oh, we’re talking about me.”

“Obviously I’m talking about you,” he groaned, dropping his head into his hands. A dopey smile crossed your face watching him grumble to himself. Thoughtlessly you leaned forward, grabbing his hands to tug them back from his face, urging him to look up at you.

He glanced up wearily, pink dusting his cheeks and palms lightly coated in nervous sweat which you’d lock away to tease him about later. In the moment, you pulled them into your lap with an encouraging squeeze.

“Me too,” you whispered.

His eyebrows shot to his hairline, he gawked bewildered as if that had been the last thing he imagined you confessing. He struggled to form a sentence, his incoherent stuttering had you biting your lip to hold back laughter. Until he stilled, eyes flickering toward your mouth where they lingered much too long.

You noticed him slowly begin to lean and alarms blared, drowning out any ounce of desire as you blurted, “I can’t be like Kiyoko.”

He furrowed his brows in confusion, wading through a daze to string together, “I don’t want you to be like Kiyoko. I just said I’ve only liked you not–”

“No not–” Your face burned at his straightforward confession and you battled to keep your mind focused. “I mean, I can’t sneak around like them. I can’t hide in gardens or forests and pretend I don’t love someone. I can’t just be okay with for now when I want forever.” Your grip on his hands tightened in your distress. “You know what I mean?”

He looked in awe, gaze filled with an emotion you weren’t certain you could accurately yet name. His eyes scoured your face searching for something before a dopey smile spread across his face. “Yeah.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” he gently pressed his forehead against yours. His blonde tufts tickled your forehead as he gently said, “I’m not built to love someone in secret.”

A raging warmth spread throughout your chest. “But how will we–”

“I’ll figure it out.” He nuzzled his forehead further against yours. “I promise.”

“Is Kageyama going to threaten my entire family?”

The corner of his lip quirked, “It’s definitely a solid backup plan.”

You half-heartedly smacked his chest but he just squeezed your hands tighter. After a few moments of blissful silence, you adjusted to lean against him while he toyed with your fingers in his lap, just reveling in being together, Nishinoya whispered, “My name is Yuu.”

You lifted your head surprised. “I thought I wasn’t supposed to know that.”

“You’re not, but I’d like you to.” His gaze was genuine as he added. “I’d like you to know all of me. If that’s okay.”

A smile broke across your face. “I would singlehandedly fight all of the King’s enemies if it meant I got to know even you’re favorite color.”

He blinked. After an awkward amount of silence you thought perhaps you’d said something wrong, but he surprised you by tenderly cupping your cheeks. “That was the single most romantic thing anyone has ever and will ever say to me.”

“What do you–”

“I would very much like to kiss you now.”

Your entire body tensed. You hadn’t even meant to be romantic–you were just being honest. The determined set to his brow sent your heart into a frenzy, you squeezed your eyes shut as you nodded your head. You felt him shifting, tilting your head minutely before leaning closer. Just as his breath was against your lips a voice echoed in the fields around you, fluttering your eyes open you met with Nishinoya’s furious glare.

“Hey, Noya do you know when–Ohhh.”

Nishinoya gave Tanaka the deadliest glare you’d ever seen, you could almost see the flames radiating off him. It made you realize that maybe there was a reason Karasuno’s Guardian Deity had all those terrifying rumors Yamaguchi always paraded around. Perhaps there really was a reason everyone was so frightened of him.

Kinda hot.

“Dude, privacy!?” Nishinoya waved his hands at where Tanaka’s exited. “I know you’ve heard of it.”

“I’m so sorry, bro. I really didn’t think you had it in you.”

You glanced toward the lake as their arguing continued, gasping at the realization of how high the sun had risen. Nishinoya placed a hand on your shoulder in concern. “What’s wrong?”

“I’m supposed to meet my mother for lunch. She’s going to kill me if I’m not–”

“No problem,” Nishinoya grabbed your hand to assist you in your dreaded trek back through the woods. You waved goodbye at Tanaka while Nishinoya sent him a rather crude gesture that had you covering a smile.

On your journey home Nishinoya recounted stories involving his older sisters that left you smiling the whole way. You truly couldn’t remember a time you’d felt happier than in that moment beside him. And you had no clue how the future would play out, but you trusted him–there was no one you’d rather go through this with.

[five-rivers]

The Hit

AO3

@dizzlypuzzled

.

It was a beautiful day.  Mostly.  Maybe a little cloudy, a little drizzly, but the sun kept coming out, and that wasn’t a given for this time of year.  Unfortunately, Danny couldn’t appreciate it.

He trudged home, only limping a little.  Hopefully, by the time he got home he’d have whatever had gotten knocked loose in his ankle worked back into place.  That wasn’t what was bothering him, though, wasn’t what had his shoulders hunched and his fingers drumming nervously on the thermos, not really.  Minor injuries like that came with the job.  

But the job had gotten a lot harder recently. 

Today, for example, there had been three moderately powerful ghosts he’d never seen before.  And they’d all been after him, specifically.  There had been at least one every day this week, and, if he wasn’t misremembering the math vocabulary he’d been studying, the number of ghosts per day had a positive trend.  

How long had that been going on, anyway?  He hadn’t been keeping track of numbers, but maybe he should have.  If he’d thought of it before, it probably would have seemed like unnecessary extra work, but he would have liked to know if there was some kind of pattern beyond just more of them.  

And it wasn’t as if his usual ghosts had stopped coming!  They were just as active as ever and just as capable of keeping him from getting a good night’s sleep.  

Speaking of sleep, the lack of it was definitely to blame for what happened next.  

He threw his head back, groaned loudly, and said, “I just wish I knew why there were so many ghosts after me, all of a sudden!”

There was a ghostly and terribly familiar chuckle. “As you have wished it, so shall it be!”

“Oh, heck–”

.

Danny tumbled onto his face.  The chill, ectoplasm filled air clued Danny into the fact that he was in the Ghost Zone.  The exclamations and the sizzle of charging ectoblasts told him he was somewhere unfriendly.  

He transformed as quickly as possible and called up a hemispherical shield just in time to deflect a volley.  

Desiree had sent him to… some kind of amphitheater?  Full of eyeball ghosts?  Why–?

He dodged another burst of ghost rays.  Forget it!  He’d figure it out later.  For now, he had to get away.  Escape route, escape route…  There!

He used a wave of ice and an overcharged blast to clear the doors, and flew as fast as he dared through twisty, labyrinthine hallways, chased by the weird eyeball ghosts.

(It was kind of strange, wasn’t it, so many of the same kind of ghost all together?  They’d looked practically identical.  Eye-dentical.  Heh.)  

Then he remembered. Humans could walk through walls here.  He went human, still in flight, and tumbled through the nearest one into a small room full of, you guessed it, yet more eyeballs.  He let himself fall through the floor.  

The pace he had to set now was a good deal less desperate, seeing as the ghosts couldn’t follow him through the walls, but he wasn’t any less lost and confused.  People shouting get him or kill him weren’t exactly very enlightening.  Or unique.

… Although, he didn’t think any of the ghosts who came after him in Amity Park had been actually trying to kill him until…  Until Box Lunch.  

Well, maybe Spectra, too, but he got the impression she was a bit of outlier, even among ghosts.  

He ran into an empty room and paused to catch his breath.  He tried his best, but he didn’t think it was physically possible to be as fit in his human form as he was in his ghost form.  

Straightening, he saw–  Was that a wanted poster?  Of him?  

He picked it up, noting that it was only one of many stacked on the tables of the room.  This one happened to be in English.  

Was this Walker’s…?  No, Danny had seen Walker’s posters.  These were different.  Flimsier, thinner paper, more colorful ink, different font.  They didn’t have the mugshot Danny had gotten at Walker’s prison.  More importantly, Walker always specified that the reward was for ‘bringing the punk in for trial, relatively intact.’  This one just said ‘for proof of Ending.’

This wasn’t a wanted poster.  This was a hit.  

He looked around the room again, seeing it in a new light.  The posters weren’t posters.  They were meant to go in those envelopes with those letters.  

He grabbed one and stuffed it into his pocket before calling a ball of ghostly fire to his hand.  Arson usually wasn’t part of his moveset, but this was only the second time someone had taken a hit out on him, and this time he wasn’t even on the verge of causing an apocalypse.  

At least, he was pretty sure of that last point.  Except for the increased number of ghosts he wasn’t under that much stress, he was getting tutored after school, Sam had gotten her mother to sue the Nasty Burger, and he’d changed the ecto-filtrator recently.  That should cover most of the potentially apocalypse-causing stressors, right?

But, anyway, arson.  He threw the ghost fire onto the nearest table and ran, barely dodging the reaching claws of several eyeball ghosts, because they’d been surrounding the room.  He should have expected that.  This was their stupidly large building, they would know where stuff was.  

His saving grace seemed to be that they sucked at fighting.  That was probably why they were having a hit taken out on him, come to think of it.  They needed to get other, stronger, ghosts to do their dirty work, the creeps.  

The next wall led out into the void of the Ghost Zone.  Danny plummeted, shrieking, falling through several cloud layers before he was able to pull his ghost form up over him.  

He righted himself, his core buzzing with excitement and attention, but kept his downward trajectory..  

Heck.  So.  He’d been right about there being more ghosts.  Why would anyone want to take a hit out on him?  Well, other than Vlad, maybe.  Vlad wouldn’t kill him, though.  He wasn’t that kind of a creep.  

It had to be something he’d done.  But he had never seen the eyeballs before.  He’d never even heard of them.  

Briefly, he entertained the idea that they meant to target Vlad, but even if they were both half-ghosts and people who didn’t know much about half-ghosts got confused, Danny and Vlad were notably different.  For one, Danny was much better looking and only about fifteen, maybe twenty percent as pathetic.  

Or maybe it was about his parents?  Danny hadn’t noticed them getting any ‘materials’ for their nightmarishly unethical experiments, but maybe they had hidden something, somehow?  No, ghosts tended not to do the proxy thing.  No reason they couldn’t take their ire out on whoever had caused it.  

No.  This had to be about him, from both sides.  

But what could he have done?  He understood the whole ‘kill baby Hitler’ reasoning that had caused the last incident, even if he didn’t agree with it, but that had been a one-off thing.  Hadn’t it?

Below him, a very familiar clock tower loomed up from the darkness.  

Alright.  That was uncanny.  

.

Danny landed on the balcony railing, choosing to forgo the usual rituals of knocking and passing through the vestibule into the larger part of Clockwork’s lair.  He had questions to ask and possibly an apocalypse to prevent.  

Clockwork was waiting for him.

“What did I do this time?” Danny asked.

“This time? Absolutely nothing,” said Clockwork.  “Or, perhaps, a vast number of things, depending on perspective.” 

“You know what I mean.  Why do those guys want me dead so badly?  It’s not like I ‘ve done anything to them.”

“Again,” said Clockwork, “a matter of perspective.”

“Okay, and what did I do from their perspective?”

“You challenged it,” said Clockwork with a slight shrug.  

“That’s really descriptive, thanks,” said Danny.  “I’m not on the verge of causing the end of the world again, am I?”

“No more than anyone else,” said Clockwork, still calm.  

“Then why are they after me?  Why take out a hit on me?  Really.  No cryptic double-speak, please.”

“Simply put?” asked Clockwork.  “They’ve had one out on you since before you defeated Dan.”

That… was almost reasonable.  “So, are you using that to draw a connection, or are you just saying it because it’s a temporal roadmark?”

“It is a useful roadmark, but they did in fact try to kill you because of Dan, the first time.”  Clockwork adjusted his grip on his staff.  “The first time, they asked me to do it.  Although asked is, perhaps, not the right word.”

“And you didn’t.”

“Clearly.”

Well, yeah, okay.  Make stupid comments, get snarky comments, he got it.

“But Dan doesn’t… he’s not going to happen.”

“He has already happened.  But despite common wisdom to the contrary, history does not, in fact, repeat.”

“So why are they after me now?”

“A number of reasons.  Many of them believe that although you have not become Dan yet, you cannot be trusted to exist.  Others have their own personal reasons, but beyond that it is as I told you. You hurt their pride.”

“Their pride.”

“They are very pleased with their ability to look through time,” said Clockwork in a tone that indicated he wasn’t.  “Very proud of it.  You surprised them, upended their predictions, defeated them, you could say.”

“Only with your help.”

“Perhaps,” said Clockwork, a smile pulling at his lips.  “But I am somewhat more useful to them. Also, in any group of that size, you do get a number of people who simply despise anyone who does not fit into their worldview.  Again, a matter of perspective.”

Danny clutched at his hair.  “I don’t believe this!  Why did you even help them in the first place?”

“If you will recall, I did not,” said Clockwork.  “You will also note that my refusal to do so is what has led to the current situation.”

“Right, because if you killed me, they wouldn’t need to send other people to kill me.”

“Quite so.”

“Aaaaargh!  This isn’t funny, Clockwork,  What am I supposed to do?”

“For the time being, might I suggest coming inside?  The Observants will eventually realize you are no longer in the Panopticon.”

“Shouldn’t they already know I’m not?  If they can see through time and all?”

Clockwork hummed.  “Time is one thing.  Preconceptions are another.  And the Observants, for all their broad field of view, tend to get tunnel vision.”  Another small smile.  “I have made tea.  We are… somewhat overdue for a chat.”

“About what?” asked Danny, still hesitant.  Although he’d visited Clockwork since the Dan incident - the time with the ecto-acne being a notable one - the topic at hand was strongly reminding him of all the times he’d been slammed into a bell, courtesy of Clockwork’s time powers.

“Your future.”

Danny’s shoulders slumped.  “I was afraid you’d say that.”

[lesboygamzee]

beta troll headcanons but i have headcanons on how alternian gender works ( its not that complex dw )

aradia - fully agender . seperate from everything . didnt really care until it godtiered and then was like ohhh i dont have to do anything anymore im free now ok ^_^ and was pretty chill with it forever tavros - Fairy Girl and transfem . i imagine that Fairy Genders are like completely caste nonconforming I HAVE LORE I HAVE LORE LISTEN TO ME NOW BOY anyway . has known for like .. Awhile but shes in proximity to vriska and vriska is like your average reddit transfem and tavros is like ok maybe i should just repress this and pretend its not something i think and dream about extensively . and it works for awhile and then she lives as a girl on her own on earth c but it still takes forever for her to actually Come Out but it happens .. eventually ... ok im getting sad my girl has problems SHES ALSO BUTCH sollux - gold bigender what the fuck else . very repressed transfem who fits all the gamer trasnfem stereotypes hes kind of real . again Very Repressed and like halfway an egg halfway Aware ( haha duality ) . starts being herself after prolongued proximity to godtier aradia she stole its fucking girl ness #thetransagenda . doesnt really like the association he has with her caste but accepts it as part of his identity nontheless karkat - agender cis guy no assigned caste but identifies with his assigned gender on the technical level . he has a weird relationship with it but like its chill overall nepeta - olive trans guy . nondysphoric and is fine being a girl but one day he was like hey somethings off and he ripped his tits clean off and started living as a he and went about his life as normal <- joke but probably not far off . i dont think he was unhappy as a girl hes just chill with whatever feels right in the moment i think and right now its Boy kanaya - jade trans girl but in a gnc way because female jadebloods are meant to be very cold i think people forget that but kanaya genuinely cares about motherhood and wants to nurture the matriorb because she cares about the next generation of her race and like thats a significant part of her character guys you know that right . i think her both being badass AND having a desire for motherhood is good writing actually guys .g . anyway . has known since she was very young and would be relatively normal about it if it wasnt for her Proximity To Vriska ( see Reddit Transfem ) terezi - teal trans guy whos also nonbinary whos also a dyke . ill be honest i dont have anything super in depth for this one sorry terezi fans vriska - cerulean trans girl . i think nows the time to clarify what i mean by reddit transfem umm . she will not shut the fuck up about how horrible and mannish she looks and acts forever and like its not her fault she feels like this but shes saying this in direct proximity of other transfems namely kanaya and tavros . i also think shes a transmed . umm has known from a young age but only becomes fully comfortable in her identity like .. a loooong time from canon equius - indigo transfem . i dont have a lot of thoughts on this but i think shes very repressed for a long time but Nepeta Proximity helps her a little . doesnt really transition shes just A Girl Now gamzee - Dyke . incredibly strange relationship with everything but like .. i think hes identifying as a trans guy at 13 if only because he thinks its the easiest to explain i dont think hed care . Until It Does . has a crisis about it for exactly a week before getting normal . hard to explain more for multiple reasons rips arm off eridan - violet cis guy but like theres gender fuckery going on . thought he was transfem for awhile and went on e and was like this is awesome but i think im a guy still . does drag as a fuschia woman feferi - fuschia multigender . another one that is hard to explain sigh but i think hes an egg at 13 but he doesnt have a whole thing about it hes like oh im more than just Girl cool ^_^

[handspunyarns]

You Were Marked: Day Twenty-One.

pairing: din djarin x fem!O/C     

word count: 9.9K  

chapter summary:  Marathel explains it all.  

author's note: This is the chapter where Marathel finally tells the whole story of her upbringing in the Hold, as well as what she learned about herself from the Reconstructionists. This chapter is very dark, full of descriptions of triggering events, as well as deliberate and liberal use of the c-word. The warnings are under the cut. If you have been keeping up with this story, you should have a feel for where this chapter is going to go. If you find warnings potentially triggering, please don’t continue. 

***Please feel free to comment, kvetch, or otherwise speak your mind about my work. ***   

warnings:  angst, violence to women, violence to animals, aftermath of ritual abuse, aftermath of ritual sexual abuse, aftermath of torture, mental illness, degradation of women, rape, rape aftermath, non-con sexual situations, sexual situations, suicide ideation, suicide attempt aftermath, miscarriage by violence, allusion to drug use, description of ritual sexual abuse, description of child sexual abuse, past child abuse, sexual abuse by children, deep misogynistic entrenchment, mention of incest and infertility, mention of medical issues, English and Mando’a cursing  

You Were Marked: Masterlist

You Were Marked: <- Previous Chapter

Din sat in the cockpit of the Crest, listening to the engines scream their way through hyperspace. Up until three weeks ago, he believed he had enjoyed a relative sameness to his days.  Any other bounty trip, he would be lounging in his seat, in the galley drinking caf, taking a nap, preparing for the hunt.  The addition of Grogu changed these options very little; Din now had a companion for these activities — although Din drew the line at giving Grogu caf.  The kid had once sneaked half a cup while Din was taking a leak and the boy practically vibrated for the next three hours. 

Now, Din was leaning forward, his elbows on his knees as he watched the striations of hyperspace, willing his ship to move faster.  What is Marathel thinking? Going back to Unmanarall?   She’d better get that thought out of her head, because there is no way I’m going to let that happen!  I’m just now getting used to the concept of her being a part of my life!  Of Grogu’s life!  I didn’t get my head smashed in, nearly burn out my ship’s engines, break my feet, and get smacked with a … fucking giant dildo just for her to go running back to that … pit of degradation!  To those men, who did their best to destroy her! 

Nope, not gonna happen. 

Earlier, Din had received a message from Cobb, who let him know that the women were due in Mos Eisley a few hours after Din and Grogu were scheduled to get back to Mos Espa.  Din offered to get them from the spaceport, but Cobb said that he had it under control.  Din then said he and Grogu would run over to Mos Eisley on a speeder, meet them there, be there for when Marathel returned, but Cobb suggested that Din and Grogu just wait for them at the palace.  Din, irritated, then sent Boba a string of messages, essentially to bitch that Cobb was being an asshole, telling him that Cobb didn’t have the right to tell him what to do, nor should Cobb do what he perceived as keeping Marathel away from him, especially since he suspected Cobb had been a bit fresh with Marathel.  Boba sent a single response: 

BF: Chill the fuck out Din 

Boba must have forwarded Fennec the string of messages, for she had sent Din a new holo of Marathel, sitting on the padded bench, her feet up, her lap covered with a blanket that Din had not seen before.  She was in profile as she stared out the large window of the carriage, gazing at the same striations of hyperspace as he.  Her face was calm, but hard, as if she were wearing invisible armor.  Din focused on Marathel’s eyes, which were steadfast, almost stern, like she had made a definitive decision — and he was sure she intended to give him the brush-off for reasons he did not know or understand.   

Mesh’la, he thought.  Don’t make me let you go.  Just look at me and tell me what has hardened your heart. 

Marathel had finally uncurled herself from her protective ball, and was lounging on the padded bench, her new-to-her blanket over her lap.  The light show outside the window was fascinating to her.  This was the first time she was cognizant of her traveling through space, a concept that was still so strange.  Her whole life, she had only known the Hold, and now she knew that merely was tiny patch of land on a little ball that was floating in darkness with many balls, little and big, very similar or vastly different from the one she knew.  There is so much that I don’t know, thought Marathel.  At least I know that I know nothing.   

As she continued to gaze out the window, Marathel noticed a dark shape moving within the moving stripes of light.  It was large — it had to be huge — certainly larger than this ship that Marathel was currently sitting in. Whatever it was, it was moving at the same speed as the ship she was on but undulating as it moved.  Occasionally, some part of it pierced the light striations, sending sparks behind it.   

Marathel rolled up to her knees and moved to the window to get a better look.  Fennec, who had been reading the blind copy of Din’s irritated ramblings to Boba, noticed her movement.  She looked up to see Marathel kneeling next to the window, hands on the perspex shield, looking with wonder at the hyperspace lights outside.  Curious, Fennec captured a quick holo of Marathel — she looked quite pretty, with her face full of amazement — and stood to look out the window herself.  

“Can you see it, Fennec?  What is it?” 

“That’s a Purrgil.  A Purrgil Ultra, I would guess, by its size.” 

Marathel scoffed.  “Yes, of course, a Purrgil.  I should have known.  But what is it?” 

Fennec chuckled.  “It’s a space whale.” 

“A whale?  I don’t know what that is.” 

Fennec, amused, replied, “No whales on your planet?” 

“Not that I’m aware of.” 

“You have fish, though, right?” 

“Fish, yes, but nothing that large.” 

“Well, most whales are mammals, not fish … but anyway, these whales, instead of swimming in water, they follow the slipstreams of hyperspace.  Sometimes they collide with ships, and ships will often shoot at them to get them to leave.” 

“What a terrible thing to do.  I think they are beautiful creatures.” 

“They can be dangerous,” said Fennec with a shrug. 

“She’s not dangerous,” said Marathel.  “She’s only keeping us company.”  Marathel continued to kneel at the window, watching the Purrgil.  Fennec went back to her holopad and her conversation with Boba about what a pain Din was at the moment.  Fennec had just shot off the message Din’s just being a lovesick jackwagon, and I recall voicing my concerns about Cobb and you blew me off when Marathel gasped; the Purrgil had come closer to the ship and appeared to be looking back at Marathel with her enormous eye.   

“Hello,” whispered Marathel.  I see you, and I think you see me.  What a magnificent thing you are!  The Purrgil’s eye was the deepest blue-green of the lagoon below the cliff on Unmanarall, the one she … her thought was interrupted by the piercing whistle of a red laser blast hitting the giant Purrgil.  The Purrgil shrieked, the sound reverberating into the ship, rattling the window and vibrating through Marathel’s soul.  “NO!” screamed Marathel, beating her hands on the window.  “She wasn’t hurting anyone!”  Marathel felt Fennec’s hands on her shoulders, pulling her away from the perspex.  The Purrgil was hit with more laser blasts, and Marathel could feel the vibrations of the Purrgil wailing.  Marathel began to wail as well.  “WHY?  Why are they hurting her? Why do they always have to hurt everything?”  Marathel crumpled down to the floor and sobbed into her hands.  “It never stops!  It never changes!  They always hurt us, they only ever want to kill us, and it NEVER STOPS!” 

The door of the carriage slid open, and a conductor entered, saying, “Ladies!  You’re disturbing the other passengers!” 

Fennec stood and faced the conductor.  “I’m trying — but she’s not well!”  Marathel continued to sob.  “Give her some time, she will calm down … she was a torture victim!  She’s just upset!” 

The conductor backed up and called into his wrist communicator: “send the medi-droid to suite X-1138 immediately.”  Fennec stepped forward, and the conductor put his hands up.  “You brought an unstable woman aboard?  She will need to be tranquilized for the remainder of the journey.” 

Fennec turned back to Marathel, saying, “Marathel, please, you need to quiet down, you need to calm yourself, or they’re going to tranq you.” 

“I don’t want to be CALM!  I don’t want to be STILL!   I don’t want to be quiet anymore!  I want to be angry!  Why am I not allowed to be ANGRY?” 

Fennec took Marathel’s hands.  “You can be angry all you want, but what you’re doing isn’t going to help you or the Purrgil.”  Fennec put her hands on Marathel’s shoulders, giving her a little shake and hissing, “You’re drawing too much attention.  Now get up off the floor.” 

A medical droid appeared in the doorway, and Marathel looked at it in panic before she shut her eyes and worked to calm her breathing.  Fennec helped Marathel back to the padded bench, giving her back the blanket, and sat next to her, taking Marathel’s hand, which was knotted into a fist.  The conductor grunted and tapped a report into his holopad.  After a short time, the conductor snapped, “Arm,” holding out his hand.  Marathel gave the conductor a baleful look but dutifully lifted her arm.  The conductor scanned the chip.    “Refugee from Jakuu,” muttered the conductor.   

“Yes,” replied Marathel. 

“Name?” 

“Marathel ap Unmapeth.” 

The conductor looked at Marathel.  “From Jakuu?  With a name like that?  Only ever heard a surname of that sort from Lew’el before.”  The conductor harrumphed and went back to tapping on the holopad.  “Spice addict?” 

“No,” snapped Fennec.   “A … slave, a torture victim, like I said.  Badly injured and still recovering.”   

The conductor scowled.  “A belligerent and combative patient still requires tranquilizers and a medical permit.” 

Fennec took a deep breath, attempting to control herself before she began whaling on this jerk’s ass.  “She had never seen a Purrgil, and was upset when the ship began firing on it.  She has been greatly traumatized recently.  Have some damn compassion.” 

The conductor snorted.  “I need to get back to First Class.  Keep her quiet,” he snapped as he and the medi-droid left the cabin, shutting the door behind them.   

Fennec grumbled under her breath.  That went well.  And as much as she’d just like to slap the woman and tell her to get it the fuck together, Fennec knew she couldn’t — not just because Marathel had had enough of that kind of treatment, but because Din would lose his everloving shit. Forget a Life Day rom-com holovid, these two are a walking Naboo tragic opera, for kriffing out loud. Fennec also believed that Marathel was working towards the Death Star explosion of all meltdowns soon, and she did not want to be within range of that.   

Marathel put her face in her hands. “I’m sorry, Fennec, you’re right, I’m behaving … foolishly.” She roughly swiped her tears away.  “I’ll be quiet from now on.” She leaned back and looked out the window again.  “She’s gone.  I hope she wasn’t badly hurt.  Or killed.” 

Fennec took Marathel’s hand again and gently squeezed it.  “Purrgils are tough.  They have to be, to live out there.  One that size could have destroyed this whole ship, even accidentally.” 

Marathel sniffed.  “Well, maybe this ship shouldn’t be where they are.  Even I know enough to stay out of the water where the Great Godynferth is.”  Marathel looked thoughtful.  “I keep forgetting to tell Grogu that story.” 

“Will I get to hear it?”  Fennec asked with a chuckle.  “Will Din get to hear it?” 

“I don’t believe he’ll want to, after he hears what I must tell him.” 

“Marathel … I think you really underestimate Din Djarin.” 

Marathel sighed.  No, Fennec, I don’t think I do.  Din Djarin is still a man, and men don’t like to hear certain things.  Certain truths.  She continued to hold Fennec’s hand, and both women watched the hyperspace go by.   

It was several hours later when the transport touched down at Mos Eisley spaceport.  Marathel and Fennec passed through customs easily, as they had only a small bag for luggage, and they both had chips.  The spaceport was large and noisy, making Marathel nervous, so she stuck close to Fennec.  Fennec saw Cobb waiting on the other side of the security barrier and waved.  He waved back, a single flick of his hand, and waited for the women to clear security, gazing at Marathel. 

She looks so beautiful, and still so sad.  They may have healed her wounds, but her heart looks irreparably broken, thought Cobb, and he sighed.  And Din, of course, thinks he needs to fix her.  And if what I think is true … then … I just hope he’s still willing to try.  

The women finally made it out of security after a final scan of their chips.  Marathel was rubbing her arm where the chip was, and apparently had been doing so for some time, as her arm was red, and Fennec pulled her hand away.  Cobb came forward, intending to pull Marathel into a hug, but she deftly sidestepped him.  Instead, Cobb took the bag she was wearing over her shoulder, and he took hold of her hand so she could not rub her arm any longer.  Marathel looked up at Cobb, thinking about protesting, but deciding not to bother. 

“You look a lot better, honey.  Din will be very happy to see you.”  Marathel shrugged, and Cobb put his other arm around her, leading both of them out of the spaceport to a speeder parked nearby.   

“I’m so tired,” said Marathel.  “Is it far to the palace?” 

“A couple – three hours, unfortunately.  But you can curl up in the back and take a nap, if you like.  Riding shotgun, Fennec?” 

Fennec yawned.  “If I have to.  I hope you don’t want company, Cobb.  I’ll probably doze off myself.” 

“If I’m tired, you must be exhausted, Fennec,” mused Marathel.  “Not only have you had to run from station to planet and back again, but you’ve also had to put up with me -- and my bad moods -- this whole time.   All I’ve had to do was just sit there.” 

Fennec, surprised to hear some light-heartedness coming from Marathel, replied, “Well, that’s as maybe, but I didn’t get genetically modified over the past couple of days.”  She squeezed Marathel’s free hand.  “Are you ready?”  Marathel looked at Fennec, and in Fennec’s eyes she could see the unasked question: are you ready to face Din? 

Marathel nodded, and let Cobb help her into the back of the speeder.  Once they were on their way, Marathel was unable to keep her eyes open, so she wrapped herself in her blanket, lay down on the bench seat, and fell asleep. 

Din and Grogu had landed back at the palace and were waiting.  Grogu was doing a much better job of being patient.  He had wrangled a second dinner out of Silnima, and had eaten so slow Din wondered briefly if the boy were sick again.  Din kept looking into the kitchen corridor, listening for any commotion that seemed like someone was returning to the palace. Each time, Grogu would coo or bleat, any kind of noise that would draw Din’s attention back to him.  Eventually, Din twigged to what the boy was doing, and he was grateful.  “How’d you get so smart, little guy?”  He dipped his head to press his forehead to Grogu’s.   

Boba poked his head into the kitchen.  “There you are.  They just hit Mos Epsa,” he said, and Din leapt to his feet, snatching Grogu off the table, who squawked angrily at his food being left behind.  Din followed Boba down the maze of corridors, silently seething at what he perceived as Boba’s deliberate slowness.  By the time they made it to the landing tunnel, Cobb had just brought the speeder in. Din could see Cobb, and Fennec beside him, but Marathel was nowhere to be seen.  Din pushed past Boba, panicking, wondering where she was. He came up alongside the speeder and saw what could only be Marathel: a familiar-looking rounded lump under a blanket, her long hair flowing out and hanging down on the floorboards.  He reached over and gently shook her by the ankle, whispering, “Marathel?  Mesh’la?” 

Cobb shouted, “Wake up, Mar’, we’re at Grandpa’s!” which sent Fennec — who was overtired and punchy — into peals of laughter, and Marathel’s head popped up from under the blanket.   

Grogu jumped out of Din’s arms and landed on Marathel’s legs. Marathel grunted, still squinting against the light in the tunnel, looking so soft and sleep-warm Din thought momentarily of crawling under the blanket to cuddle her.  She blinked at Grogu, finally realizing he was there, and joy spread across her face.  “My little Godynferth!” she cried, pulling him against her in a tight hug.  “My love, my sweet,” Marathel continued to coo at the boy while he shouted Mama over and over. 

Fennec and Cobb shared an exasperated look before they climbed out of the speeder.  Boba was already there to assist Fennec, and he gave her a quick surreptitious hug before taking Marathel’s bag and asking, “Marathel?  Do you need help?” 

Din grunted and reached over the side of the speeder, saying, “Let me take Grogu…” 

Marathel shook her head.  “I’ve got him, just help me up, please,” she said, reaching out with her hand.   

Din took her hand in his, feeling her splinted fingers, wrapped in metal coils through the leather of his glove. Oh, mesh’la, you’re here, you’re finally here.  “You look much better, ma’mwsh ha’laa.  So much stronger.”  He gently pulled her up to a standing position, then wrapped his free arm around her to lift her out of the speeder.  She allowed his arm to remain around her waist as they followed the others back into the palace.  Grogu continued to clutch at her, softly saying Mama. Marathel smiled sadly and stroked his fuzzy head.  Putting his hand over hers on Grogu’s back, Din asked, “Are you feeling all right?  Are you tired?” 

Marathel nodded.  “I am tired, but also … it’s hard to say.  Twitchy? Jumpy?” 

“I know the feeling.  Exhausted, but unable to relax.”  He squeezed her hand.  “Let’s get you back to your room,” he said, inwardly grimacing, hoping she wouldn’t misunderstand.  “... So you can go back to sleep,” he added. 

“No, I …” Marathel stopped walking.  She turned and looked straight into Din’s visor.  “We need to speak to each other, sooner than later. There are things I must tell you.” 

Din lifted his hand to cup her cheek.  “Can it not wait until you’ve rested?  You’ve been through so much the past few days.”  He could finally see her face fully, straight-on, not hidden by hair.  She looked exhausted; her eyes puffy.  The gash down her face still looked very red and angry, and she appeared to have abraded skin near her temples, possibly burn-marks from sensors.  Her lips were dry.  He wanted to kiss her so much, scoop her up in his arms, lay her down on a soft bed and hold her until she fell asleep. 

“Perhaps, but … I don’t feel I can rest until I have said what I need to say.”  Marathel looked down at Grogu, who was snuggled into her bosom and falling asleep.  “We should put him to bed, and then I need a few minutes to collect my thoughts.”  Please let me put Grogu to bed, Bounty Hunter, this may be my last opportunity to do so. 

Din closed his eyes, dreading whatever she was going to tell him, but he nodded.  “Okay,” he said quietly.  But when she made a move to begin walking again, he stopped her, holding her close, pressing his forehead to hers.  “What I said, what I told you, before you left … I meant it.  I love you, Marathel.  I love you.” 

Marathel pulled back, and looked sadly into his visor, putting her hand on his helmet where she thought his mouth would be.  “I believe you.”  She sighed, and a fat tear rolled down her cheek. “I believe you think that.”  Marathel turned, slipping out of his grasp, and continued down the corridor.  Din remained a step behind her as they walked by the kitchen, where they could hear Silnima, Cobb, Fennec, and Boba talking in low voices.   

For no reason at all, Marathel chose that very moment to stop walking and say to Din, “I don’t know where your room is.”  It was an odd moment for Din, who felt the eyes of not only Marathel but her four new champions who were about to watch him leading her to his room, even though she was carrying Grogu as a mother would her child.  Because that is who she is, thought Din, as he gently placed his hand on her lower back again, wordlessly leading her further down the corridor.  The four people in the kitchen continued their chat. 

Din led Marathel into his room, a room that was nearly identical to hers.  She sat on the bed, rolling Grogu from her arms, who giggled.  “My sweet boy, I missed you so.”  Marathel looked up at Din.  “May I sing to him?  The proper part of the only song?”  Din nodded, silent, waiting.  Marathel began humming the tune Din now knew so well.  She settled Grogu in the bed.  Stroking the child’s ears, she sang: 

“Anar’mae'n amser, ch’si gysgu,  Gorffwys nawr unwff bychsgu,  Buth Frith yn mynd aro’lr ffwrs’wych,  Llonyddwch, llonyddwch, a’gor llyrs’wych.” 

“For your benefit, little one – and for your father as well – what I said was ...  It is time to sleep, little one, it is time to rest – Frith will watch over you while you sleep, be still, be still, be quiet until morning.”  Smiling at the sleeping boy, Marathel carefully got up and waited while Din recited his traditional Mando’a words.  When he was finished, Marathel leaned over to Grogu’s ear and whispered, “Rwy'n di’rugar.” 

As she stood, Din suddenly captured her in his arms, pulling her close, his forehead to hers, her body fully against his.  They stood this way in the darkened room for some time.  “Say that to me.  Please,” he whispered. 

Marathel, her forehead still pressed against his, shook her head.  “I can’t.  Not to you.”   

“Why not?” 

“Because you are not a baby.  Those words are only said to babies.  Not to men.” 

“You did before.”  His hand slid down her back, coming to a rest just above the swell of her backside.  “Just not in your Oldtalk.” 

“I thought … that was the last time I would speak to you.” 

Din’s other hand went into her hair, tangling his fingers in it, caressing her skull. He felt anger bubbling. “Did you lie about that?” Great Frith, he was getting hard in his pants, and she knew it, and she gasped, startled.   Haar’chak, no, please don’t start acting out one of your dreams, Djarin! 

Marathel took a step back, Din letting go of her immediately.  “Please, just give me a few minutes.  I’ll be in my room.”  She stepped out and headed back towards the kitchen.   

Din felt great shame at expressing lust for her when she had so recently been abused.   

Marathel felt horrified that she had felt a response within her, she, who was a monster undeserving of such a feeling. 

Marathel fetched herself a mug of tea, and she received a warm welcome back from Silnima.  Now that her back was properly healing, she felt more comfortable being hugged by the Headwoman.  The others were still in the kitchen, and they had gone silent when Marathel had entered.  Boba and Fennec looked at each other, while Cobb considered her with a face that was somehow both sad and hopeful.  Marathel said her goodnights, and went off to her room, Boba and Fennec right behind her, but they continued down the corridor and out of sight. 

It was a good quarter-hour before Cobb heard Din’s footsteps coming towards them.  He was walking with purpose, but not rushing.  He looked momentarily into the kitchen as he passed it, catching Cobb’s worried look.  What does he know? wondered Din. 

Coming to her opened door, Din tapped on it, quietly calling, “Marathel?” 

“Come in,” replied Marathel.  Din entered and began to close the door.  “No, please, leave the door open.” 

Din straightened. He would have thought that she’d want privacy for this conversation.  He wondered if she didn’t feel safe, alone with him.  The room was only lit by the bedside lamp, which cast a dim glow.  Marathel had the shutters open, and she was sitting on the deep windowsill, looking out at the night sky, about four feet from the floor of the room, but about ten feet to the hard-packed ground of the courtyard below.   

“Marathel, I don’t like you sitting up there.” 

“Don’t worry.  I don’t plan to jump.  Besides, it’s not high enough.  I’d only cripple myself and become a burden after all.” 

Din found himself quite unable to respond to that.  “Should I sit?” 

Marathel looked at him.  “I would.”  Din pulled the chair into her line of sight.  He sat, placed his hands on his thighs, and waited. Marathel took a deep breath, and said, “I have been feeling quite guilty, these days since I awoke on this planet.  Guilty of lying to you, or at the very least omitting knowledge that I refused to share with you.  My guilt is compounded by my ignorance.  I learned a great many things about myself wherever I was, with the Reconstructionists. Things I never heard of before, things I never considered. Please … just listen to me.  Let me say what I must. 

“When I was born, the Bishop was filled with joy, I was told.  My skin was the palest of white, my eyes the brightest and lightest blue, my body already long and tall.  As I grew, my hair turned silver and my eyes darkened to match.  My skin remained clear, free of any marks or dark spots to mar its perfection, and I was tall and straight like a gorugelly tree, the perfection that the Bishop was seeking to be his Whyn, to bring the next ap Bishops to the Hold.  I was the exalted and presumed Bishop’s Whyn, his Whyn and only his.” 

Marathel took a breath and closed her eyes, drawing strength to finally answer Din’s most-asked question of her.  “The word Whyn means cunt.  A Whyn is a cunt, and that’s all.  The whole point of a Whyn is to be fucked and impregnated.   The cunt is nothing but a cum vessel, to be filled in all her holes with cum.  Breed her with the next generation of cunts.  And the generations come quickly when the cunt is getting fucked every single day.  Maybe a break for your cycle, but more than likely the cunt would be beaten for not catching pregnant, the stupid whore.”  Marathel laughed derisively, harshly.  Din felt his heart drop, wanting to stop her, tell her he’d heard enough.  But he hadn’t, not by a long shot.  Dank ferrik, he needed to hear it all. 

“Now, a Diwhyn is an old cunt.  Useless anymore for breeding, too dried out to fuck.  Good for only cleaning and cooking and raising the new cunts.  Getting beaten for being old and useless.  Getting hit by the little boys because that’s all they learn, how to hit and how to fuck and how to kick at the girl trying to tie their shoes.”  Marathel sobbed for a moment.  Then, crying, she said, “The boys — the ones who haven’t changed yet — try fucking the little girls because they’re little and they won’t fight back, and they need to overpower anybody because they’re male and that’s what males do, and they get to do whatever they want.”  Marathel continued to cry.  Din stood, handing her a clean cloth from his pocket, and then sitting back down, his hands clenching into fists.  He wanted to look anywhere but back at her, but she continued to hold his gaze. 

Marathel wiped her eyes, blew her nose, and was quiet for a few minutes before she could continue.  “Then there’s me.  A Belwhyn.  You already know the end part is cunt, so what kind of cunt is a Belwhyn?  It’s shameful, it’s a punishment to be made one, so what in the name of Frith is such a terrible deed that what was done to me is an appropriate response?  A Belwhyn is a … whore cunt.  A whore, isn’t that funny?”  Marathel laughed again.  “Here we are, cunts getting fucked in every way imaginable, but what’s important is whose cock is fucking that cunt.  And unfortunately for me, you were the wrong … never mind that I forced myself on you.”  Marathel swallowed and looked directly into his visor.  Whispering, she said, “I’m so sorry I did that to you. You were the first man who has ever been kind to me, and I do that to you.  And then, I mistake your kindness for affection on top of it.”  Marathel sighed.  “Bigger fool me. 

“You were right, it’s a brand on my leg.  It’s my earliest memory, that hot metal on my inner thigh.  I was fully naked, that Bishop drooling over me, a tiny little girl, being reprehensibly burned in a place that anyone who tried to fuck me would see.   The next thing I remember was kneeling on a cushion with the Bishop’s cock down my throat.  I was choking because I was still so little, I didn’t know how to suck a cock yet, and I didn’t know about be still yet either.” 

Please, Maker, no. Not as a little girl.  Not as her first memory. Din closed his eyes, swallowing the bile that rose in his throat. 

“Be still, be still,” Marathel said with a long sigh.  “It’s so useful to be still when a cock is in your mouth or up your ass, because then your mind stops thinking and time passes quickly.  The Diwhyns teach be still, be pliant, don’t fight, don’t struggle, the pain will pass, the bleeding will stop, that endless only song, over and over and over.  I only have to hear the words be still and my mind stops spinning.  I still say it to myself!  Be still, be still, you stupid woman!” 

Marathel was quiet for a few moments, and Din was hoping she was done speaking about her first time being brutalized by the Bishop.  But then she continued, “Anyway, I was crying with the Bishop’s cock in my mouth and I couldn’t breathe with my runny nose, and I couldn’t open my mouth any wider than I already had, because I was still a little girl, remember.  I pulled my head back to breathe and the Bishop came on my face, and then I was hit because I pulled away and I didn’t let him come in my mouth, that I didn’t swallow the first cum of my intended cock like a good girl should.  Olba had been holding me upright so the Bishop could fuck my little-girl face, and she began crying too, crying so much that she was beaten, and a baby was beaten right out of her.  It was almost a full baby too, I could see that it was a boy, they made me watch her lose that baby as punishment for her crying over me, a little not-yet-cunt.  And then they beat her harder because she’d lost a boy.”   

Marathel closed her eyes, and her voice filled with disgust.  “I was so happy the baby died, because it was a boy baby, and the boy babies grew up to be little boys that kick you when you tie their shoes and older boys that try to fuck the little girls — even though they really can’t physically do that because they haven’t changed yet — and then boys become Cyiloggs, and …” Marathel frowned.  “It’s odd … there’s not really a word in Newtalk for a Cyilogg.  In Oldtalk it literally means cock.  A male chook.  When the boys get old enough to be able to fuck, that’s what they get called.  It probably started as a joke and became proper, I don’t know.  It’s about as funny as whore cunt.” 

Stop it, please stop it, please stop talking, Din cried out in his head.  You can tell me to be still through this bite mark, I should be able to tell you as well, please, mesh’la, please be still. 

Marathel, however, carried on speaking like a bartender rattling off drink specials.  She took a sip of her tea.  “Of course, a Cyilogg can’t just fuck anybody.  The Cyiloggs are supposed to learn to fuck by using the Diwhyns.  They can’t have babies anymore, so it’s safe.   The Brwddyrs, on the other hand, they can fuck the Whyns, for the most part of.  It’s okay for them, they are breeders, that’s what Brwddyrs means.  They are chosen because they are close enough to the ideal that a baby would be acceptable. 

“Me, of course, my cunt was supposed to be fucked by the Bishop and the Bishop only.  He had been fucking my face, my hands, my ass — not too often there, though, he didn’t want to wear my ass out, he said — ever since he branded me, calling me his good girl, his perfect girl, his sweet girl.  Little girl, good girl, sweet girl.  Over and over and over and over.  My cunt was sacred, not even the Bishop would fuck it yet.  Wasn’t proper.  Not until I was bleeding regularly, which ... never actually happened.” 

Din, unable to look at her any longer, stared at his knees and waited for her to continue.   

“My cycles were never right, or regular, and they’d never be on schedule.  Most of us had our cycles at the same time.  But me, I’d bleed horribly one moon cycle, and then not again for many moon cycles.  I’d practically hemorrhage every single cycle I had, passing so many blood clots.  I’d bleed until I’d pass out in the kitchen.  Until I’d faint with the Bishop’s cock in my mouth.  That happened once.  He was fucking my face while I was on my cycle, and I fainted dead away and bit him in the process.  I was beaten good and proper for that, as you can imagine.  Many jars of that smelly unguent you hate so much were used on all my bruises in my lifetime.” 

Marathel went silent for a while.  Din looked up at her; she had pulled up her knees, and she was hugging them with her elbows.  Finally, she said, “The Dahls and their eggs, I can’t quite remember how all that started.  I’ve been hit in the head so many times, I think my brain has been addled.  I remember cleaning the weapons in the Round building and listening to the men talk.  That’s the good thing about be still, you learn how to move but be still at the same time, so they don’t notice you too much.   It’s always best not to be noticed too much.  Cover your head and feet with the blanket, look as shapeless as possible, don’t make eye contact, hide your hands.  If they can’t notice you, then they can’t hurt you. 

“Dahls even have their own version of be still.  The dam barks at her kits if there’s danger.  But I hear it as be still!  Be still! in my head, and my mind slows down, just as it should. Sometimes I’ve been watching the kits run in the meadows and I can see the vytur birds overhead, looking for a moving kit to snatch, and I shout be still! Be still! to the kits, and they can hear me.  I can scream it in my head and the Dahls will stop running, freeze, not move until I release them. “ 

So, I was right, thought Din.  She marked me like a female Dahl marks her mate.  She can tell me to be still.  Am I bound to her, this way?  Is she now trying to let me go? 

“Where was I?  Oh yes, the Dahl eggs.  Somewhere in something called the Records was the story of the Dahls.  Creatures with a certain mind, that would bond with a human willing to listen to them.  The bonding made the Dahl yours forever.  What a wonderful idea, to control not only all the women but creatures as well.  

“The Dahls had been on the other side of the mountain for a long time, but for some reason, they were moving back closer to the Hold.  So, the Cyiloggs started bringing eggs in for hatching.  The Elders were supposed to bond with the hatchlings, but the hatchlings rejected them.  The hatchlings rejected all the men.  But then I suppose a Whyn bonded with a Dahl accidentally.  At first, I’m sure that the Elders were furious beyond belief.  How dare she!  How dare a cunt have control over anything!  But knowing what I know now … I'm guessing that the Elders found themselves delighted at cunts becoming fuck-animals at mating season. 

“But the Dahls … they hated being in the Hold, hated all the men.  The Whyns couldn’t control them.  The Cyiloggs would chain them, and the Dahls would break their own necks to get away, tear each other to pieces, rip the throats out of the Whyns who had bonded with them in desperation to escape. 

“Then I had to come along and hear all the Dahls.  Usually, the cunt only heard the Dahl hatchling she had bonded with, but I could even hear Dahls in the egg.  Why, no one could say.  Maybe it’s in that thing called the Record.  Olba remembered an old Diwhyn who told her as a young child of another woman who could hear all the Dahls.  Olba never told me what happened to her, but it was important enough to Olba to get me out of the Hold, and now I understand why.  I was still changing, not officially ready to fuck, not a real cunt yet.  My cycles weren’t regular, remember, even though I was head and shoulders above the other girls.  If I was in the Hold when the Dahls rose to mate, trying to madly fuck while not a full Whyn, well, that would upset the order of things, wouldn’t it?   I was meant for the Bishop alone, and under the spell of the Dahls, I would not be discerning of whom I fucked.  How dare I do such a thing! 

“But then I guess the Captain and the Duke thought it was wrong for me to be out of the Hold for so long.  Perhaps they wanted to experience the all-hearing all-fucking Dahl-cunt-woman for themselves, I don’t know.  They were the ones who were the most insistent about getting me back into the Hold.”   

Marathel looked at Din and was not surprised that he could no longer look at her.  He probably wants me to stop talking, she thought.  Well, too late now.  You wanted to know, Bounty Hunter, and I want to tell you.  “I wonder how they sent out the message that brought you.  There are things in the Hold that I have never seen — no woman has.  But you came along, and of course you know how that ended.” 

Marathel took a deep breath and rubbed her face with her hands.  “Yes, I knew what was going to happen to me.  I knew from the moment I came back to myself against that post, still with you inside me.  I knew my life was over.  I also knew I couldn’t tell you because you would stop it from happening.  But when you told me about those coins and what their worth could be to you, I had to make sure you got those coins.   I was already ruined because I made you fuck me against that post. I’m nothing.  I’m weak, fat, and stupid.  I didn’t bear the children I was meant to; I had ruined myself for the one man I was supposed to serve as Whyn … even though I hated him and the idea of being touched by him and the things he did to me and the things he did to Olba.  She’d lost the baby boy, and he beat three more babies out of her when she’d try to protect me from whatever he was desiring to do to me at the time.  She was ap Captain, how dare she interfere with an ap Bishop!  Everything I had ever done was wrong for everyone, and I wanted one thing that I could make right. 

“So, I made you take me to the Hold without your weapons. I told you to be still.  Did you hear me, screaming at you to be still inside my head? I thought you might have, because you didn’t move at all.  It worked better than I ever dreamed it could.  I have no idea why that occurred, but then I know next to nothing.  Stupid me. I made sure you got the coins, and I believed you had left. 

“You had told me any affection you had for me was less than your devotion to your Creed.  You’re a man, that’s your right of course, you can say or do anything you please.  I was less than, always had been, that’s the way of things.  My heart was broken because I loved you so much — or at least I thought I did, who am I to know at all what love is?  Children are one thing, but a man?  But I believed you didn’t care for me, which made it all the easier to hand myself over, I suppose.   You got the coins.  I had done something right. 

“After I went into the Hold, I was taken up to the second floor.  That’s where the Platform is.  I had been in there many times to clean, but I had never been on the Platform before, of course, because I wasn’t officially a cunt.  The first thing the Bishop did was carve my face.  I was tied down, and he cut me, saying that I was a whore cunt, and I should have a cunt right on my face, to show everyone what a whore I was, that I wear a cunt as my face.  How dare I betray him; how dare I be a cunt for someone else.  Especially under the spell of the Dahls, where I was the one who demanded to be fucked.  I dared to shove it in the Bishop’s face that I took you. How dare a woman, a cunt, do such a thing.” 

Marathel’s voice grew weak.  “How dare I do that ...” She swallowed and looked directly at Din to deliver her next statement.  

“How dare I do that to my father.” 

Din audibly gasped, his head snapping up to look at Marathel.  She wished she could see his face, to read the utter shock, the disbelief, and the resulting disgust.  “You hadn’t figured that out?  How surprising.  Of course, the Bishop is my father.  One of my sisters was my mother.  I have no idea who, though.  I suppose it doesn’t matter.  Cunts are all pretty much the same, aren’t they?  I pretended Olba was my real mother even though I knew it wasn’t so.  You saw all of us there in the Hold; it isn’t just the colors we wear that separate our houses.  All the Bishops are pale with light or silver hair.  The Captains are dark-complected with black, curly hair.  The Dukes and the Hunters look similar, but the Dukes tend to be blonde-haired and shorter, while the Hunters are taller with brown hair.  I always thought the Hunters were pretty to look at ... tall like trees, with brown hair and brown eyes.”   

Marathel smiled, looking wistful.  “When you told me you had brown eyes, I was so happy.  I do like brown eyes so much.   And then I saw your brown hair when you were puking in the grass.  I could just see the top of your head.  You have lovely hair.” 

Din dropped his head again, face warm, embarrassed by how much of himself he had revealed to her, accidentally or otherwise.  

Marathel rolled her eyes at his reaction and sighed again. “So, not only did I now know that you look more like a Hunter, but then … I was sure you wouldn’t look like a Bishop, no matter what my nightmares told me. 

“Bishops are supposed to fuck only Bishops, Captains are supposed to fuck only Captains, and so on.  Each house must remain pure.  If there is a cross between houses, which happened sometimes, then the mixed-girl-baby is killed, along with the whore cunt.  A boy baby?  They get placed in the house they most resemble, and life goes on. The Brwddyr who had fucked the wrong cunt?  A reprimand, maybe.  A reminder that only the correct cunts have a baby fucked into them.  That’s what Diwhyns are for, remember? 

“And now there’s a whore cunt like me to be made, tied down to the Platform.  If a cunt is going to act like a whore, then by Frith, she will be fucked like one, in every hole she has, over and over.  If she fights, if she screams, that makes it more fun.  If she’s quiet, if she’s still, beat her, bite her, shove something horrible in her holes until she screams again.   With me the Bishop went first, of course, then it became a free-for-all.  Wagers taken to see who would make me bleed from where first, how many times I’d scream, what they could draw on my skin with their knives and their whips, and their cum and piss and shit.  And they made all the children watch.  They always watch when a Belwhyn’s being made.  The boys on one side, the girls on the other.  Teach them all a lesson.  The little boys all got to take a turn on me, too.  Some would pretend like they were fucking me, but mostly they’d just poke me with sharpened sticks. Or kick me. Or bite me. Everywhere.  Little shits with their sharp teeth.  Then they made the little girls clean me off so they could do it all over again, marking the whore cunt as a lesson to the girls: This is what happens to you if you don’t obey.  Be still! Be still!  Don’t react, don’t scream, don’t cry, you be quiet and still and you watch, you future cunts!”  Marathel burst into tears.   

Din pleaded, “Stop, Marathel, for the love of Frith, please, stop ...” 

“NO!  You wanted to know, you need to hear this, and I need to tell it!  I need to not be still any longer!” cried Marathel.  She sobbed for a few minutes, Din watching her in misery.  When she finally felt she had control again, she said, “No, the Bishop is my sire, that’s what ap Bishop means, it means of Bishop.  My sole purpose as Whyn ap Bishop was to produce more Bishops by the man who brought me to life.  And I was so perfect, wouldn’t our children be even more perfect?  The epitome of ap Bishop into another generation, of course that was how it was supposed to be.  My high-ranking brothers were allowed to impregnate my sisters — their sisters, and odds are that some of my brothers impregnated their own mothers as well as their daughters.  Like it mattered.  A cunt is a cunt is a cunt, just so long as that cunt is in the right family. 

“And that’s how I thought things were supposed to be.  That’s the way it always was.  That was the way.  What other way could there possibly be?  There wasn’t anywhere or anything else to compare it to … not that I knew about. 

“Imagine ... imagine how I felt when I learned that everything, everything I knew was wrong.  It’s wrong to be sucking cock when you’re a little child.  It’s wrong to be impregnated by your father, to bear his children so he can impregnate them later when they’re ready.  It’s wrong to be known only as a cunt, wrong to be tied down to a platform, carved up, whipped senseless, to be fucked by every man in the Hold several times over in every hole you have, to have a sharp-studded metal cylinder shoved up inside you because you broke the promise you had no choice in making.  

“I didn’t know that. 

“I didn’t know that I’m an inbred, incestuous, whore cunt freak with chronic generational congenital hemophilia. That’s the phrase, one of several Eliadu taught me about myself.  Another is primary impaired fecundity.   That means that I am completely infertile.  I was never ever able to bear children, the one thing I was ever supposed to do, the only thing I wanted to do.  My insides don’t work right.  Neither does my mind … all the beatings and my injuries have taken their toll. Traumatic brain damage.  Anoxic brain damage – caused by acute hypoxia. Lack of oxygen to the brain, too many times, probably from when you were bringing me here, I guess. I suppose I’m lucky I’m not insane.  Perhaps I am.  To fix the bleeding, the Reconstructionists had to burn part of my brain and reattach it to some other part of my brain. I don’t know how it all worked; I couldn’t understand.  I just know that some parts were fixed but other parts are too ... frayed to go back together.” 

Marathel sighed.  “All I ever wanted was something more than I apparently deserved.  And I had that, for just a few days, with you and Grogu ... “ Marathel smiled again at Din.  “… the happiest of my life … and I just wanted to die with your memory foremost in my mind, to sleep in peace, at least imagining — pretending — that you cared for me in some way instead of just as another … I don’t know … object for you to play with as you wished because I threw myself at you that first time. 

“This, this — this body that you said was mine and only mine to grant consent to you to touch? It’s not mine, it’s never been mine. But even then, still … This is all I have.  I was willing for you to have it, but … I just wanted to be … not less than the man I was willing to have touch me.  The man who made me laugh and brought me gorugellys and made me feel I was at least somewhat desirable as a woman and not just a cunt.  But you ... you get to sit there, protected by your armor and helmet and weapons, and your Creed.  I got to feel your arms and hands on me, which I assume is allowable for you and your Creed. I got to feel you fuck me, you’re a man, I’m a cunt, that’s your right. I got to see your hair, which I’m certain is not allowable by your Creed.  I’m not sorry I got to see it, even if it does break your Creed.  I don’t give a shit about your Creed.  But me … all I had was everything I was born with, which is nothing at all.   Just a cunt.” 

For the first time since Marathel began speaking, Din felt a rage flare inside him.  And it was not to rail against the indignities done to her, but instead against her.  To hear Marathel say she didn’t give a shit about his Creed angered him greatly.  How dare she?  How dare she attack the core of who I am?  

He no longer wanted to listen to her.  But she kept on. 

“Did you know I have one of those chip things now?  They made me -- wherever I was when I was with the Reconstructionists.  Before I could leave, the Imps put a chip in me.  They made me take a name, a … surname, a family name, I couldn’t just travel with the only name I’ve had my whole life, that wasn’t enough for them!  I thought I should just take the surname Belwhyn, that would be perfectly descriptive, but instead I told them my name should be ap Unmapeth.  I have no idea how it’s spelled, obviously.  I can’t read, why does a cunt need to know how to read?  But I was not, not ever, going to be an ap Bishop.   

“Unmapeth means nothing.   

“Marathel Nothing from Nowhere, the Belwhyn. 

“That’s me. 

“I don’t know what I’m supposed to do now.  I can’t possibly be a part of polite society, even on a shithole planet like this one.  I hate it so much here.  This sand, this dust, everywhere!  Digging into my skin, my hair, suffocating me.  I’m a monster, disgusting, untouchable, spreading my filth and disease and madness to anyone who comes near me.  Where else should I be but the planet that created me?  At least there I can live, endure … without interfering in anyone else’s life.  Especially not your life, not Grogu’s life.  

“I think I told you I threw myself off a cliff because I was under the spell of the Dahl’s mating; that’s not quite true.  Yes, they were rising to mate, and I still couldn’t bear it by myself, I felt as if I were going mad.  I had already broken free of the ropes holding me to the post — it is so difficult to tie yourself up — and I had already tried pressing stones against myself, wrapping my legs around the post, and nothing was helping and I was so desperate that I just ran, ran in a straight line, thinking maybe I could find something, anything that could help me, and I was terrified because I had considered going to the Hold and throwing myself at the Bishop.  So, I ran the opposite way, away from the Hold, and I knew the cliffs were before me.  I knew there were rocks just under the surface of the water that would kill me, bash my head in, break all my bones, and there was coral that would shred me to ribbons so that I would become food for the great Godynferth and it finally will all be over.   

“I ran straight for that edge as fast as I could -- I'm a good runner, you know that, you’ve seen me run — and I heard the Dahls screaming at me to BE STILL! but I ignored them all as I leapt off that cliff, and I turned myself over so I would land directly on my back, and I watched the sky above me as I fell and I begged the women that had gone before me that were watching me from above, let me be with you and I will watch over the little girls that come after me and protect them even though I had brought forth none of my own, and I hit that water with the most exquisite pain I had ever felt.  But … I had run so hard and so fast I missed the rocks completely.  I fell into deep water.  I tried then to drown, but I couldn’t, the water kept pushing me up and out, and away from the coral. 

“I can’t even kill myself right, how pathetic is that?   My only injury was to my back from hitting the water, and my back turned black, just like it did when you knocked me down to the floor when I was so desperate to fuck you when the Dahls were mating.   

“It just occurred to me -- you fought me harder than I thought you would, especially since you had agreed to be there with me. I’m not sure if I’m supposed to be amused or upset by that.  But I suppose you only ever learned how to fight, just like I only ever learned how to be fucked.  Cobb was right, we are very alike, you and me.” 

We are nothing alike, thought Din.  And I resent you discussing this with him.  What else did you discuss?  What else did you do with him, Marathel?  With my friend? 

“By the time I got back to the hut, my back was so bruised, it took weeks for the blood to reabsorb.  Olba came out to find me because I hadn’t been up to the Hold for supplies.  I was so swollen with blood that she had to cut slashes on my back to drain it out; the unguent wouldn’t help.  I’m sure she received beatings for staying with me instead of being in the Hold. 

“You know, I don’t remember how I got out of the water, or how I got back to the hut.  Maybe the Dahls came to rescue me?  Doubtful.  The Dahls loved me, but they had more important things to do.  Even for the Dahls, fucking was more important than a woman. 

“They — the Reconstructionists — told me my people are doomed to die out.  Fewer and fewer women will be able to bear children.  I’ve already seen that in my own lifetime … the girls getting pregnant are younger and younger, women become Diwhyns earlier, more mothers die giving birth.  How much longer can that be carried on before there’s no one left?  Perhaps, if Frith wills it so, the Mist will just come when we don’t expect it and burn us all away, burn us down to ashes. 

“You, Bounty Hunter, you earned 167 Aurodium coins to bring me to the Hold.  But you took me away with you.  And then, you kept the coins instead of giving them to your covert, I don’t know why, but I suppose that’s none of my business.  Again, I’m only a cunt, you’re a man, that just how it is.  Fennec told me your covert wouldn’t accept them.  I don’t know if that’s true; I’m not a Mandalorian, that is your way, not mine.  However, it seems to me you didn’t do the job you got paid for, so you owe me a trip back, Bounty Hunter.  When do we leave?” 

You Were Marked: Next Chapter ->

[clovers-n-claws]

Reunion

So I realized about halfway through writing for kinktober that the buildup was way too fucking long so I made it into a little introductory story for the character I'm using for week 2!

lovestruck!Fairy x Fem!Reader (sfw!)

warnings/general summary: memory loss, minor scrapes and bruises, Eden is a tad obsessed, whatever applies to 'being stalked by a vulture/fairy's guard dog/father figure', childhood friends to lovers, mention of repeated night terrors

Ever since you were young, your parents, relatives, friends’ parents, hell, even neighbors told you to stay out of those woods. That there were dangerous things lurking in the shadows, waiting for an opportunity to steal away pretty things such as yourself. You never believed old wive’s tales like those, though. Not until you came back, years later.

After your parents moved to the states, there was nobody to take care of your beloved childhood home. By the time you finished college and decided to move back into your family’s old estate, it should have fallen in disrepair, but…it was spotless, as if you had never left. The bookshelves you had filled completely with fairytales, fantasy novels, and animal-themed encyclopedias hadn’t even collected dust. You’d have been worried that maybe someone had broken in, but that wouldn’t make any sense. Who would break into a house to keep it tidy? Nothing was missing- nothing substantial, that is, you noticed a couple of your books weren’t where you left them- so it wasn’t any kind of robbery. Eventually, you chalked it up to bad memory and good luck, or maybe a friendly yet eccentric neighbor.

In the weeks that followed, you settled in well, finally getting the electricity working again and getting someone to help you get wifi, but something was off. Nothing bad, not like the kind of thing you’d see in a shitty horror movie, but strange things seemed to follow you like a dog on a lead. Petals seemed to dance through the air when you’d take walks outside, and you could never seem to find where they came from. The wildlife was bolder than you remembered, too. You were reading on the porch one morning when a fawn walked right up to you and rested its little head by your feet. On at least three separate occasions, songbirds had landed outside your window and woken you up with their little serenades, the melodies were almost familiar to you, even. Of course, what prompted your fateful journey into the forest wasn’t a couple of over-socialized animals and delusions of becoming the next Snow White. No, what broke you down, made the forest impossible to live besides without investigating, was that damn vulture. You noticed it the day you moved in, but thought nothing of it. Ignored it, as day in and day out it watched you from its perch, a huge tree on the border between the forest and your home. At some point, something in the back of your mind resurfaced, something that chilled you to the core. You recognised this vulture. Missing an eye, an extra toe on its left foot, a bird that haunted your childhood nightmares stood watch outside your house, all these years later. You told yourself it couldn’t be, that black vultures had a lifespan of ten years and this one didn’t even look weary, but soon, your dreams came back to confirm what you had already known.

Everything was just like when you were little— right down to the sleepless nights, and waking up shaking from terrors when you were too tired to resist sleep’s embrace. Your waking world wasn’t ripped from a horror movie, but your nightmares bore a resemblance to eldritch horrors that would drive hunters and woodsmen in your family mad. A horned creature, something too unnatural and obscured by fog to make out more than a silhouette and those gleaming red eyes, calling you. It wasn’t saying anything, but you felt it pull you, reaching a clawed hand out to you and inviting you into its home.

Finally, one night, you’d had enough. Waking up drenched in your own sweat and teary-eyed again, you decided to cut your problem at the root. Not even bothering to put something over your white pajamas, you slipped on a pair of socks and sneakers, grabbed a flashlight, and walked out of your house, into the woods. The vulture followed, of course, but that only made you trudge through the thorns, branches and vines faster. At some point, you realized your flashlight wasn’t needed, because you looked around and saw a path illuminated by fireflies. Cautiously, you let the insects lead you, hand now gripping the flashlight not as a tool but as a weapon, just in case. What you found at the end of this path was far from what you were expecting— what you thought you’d find ranged anywhere from a serial killer with an astonishing talent for training animals to the creature you’d seen in your nightmares, now made a reality by whatever uncaring god might be out there.

You weren’t expecting to see a man— and a beautiful one at that— around your age, dressed in flowing silk and chiffon (somehow unscathed by the forest, unlike your now destroyed pajamas), having a friendly conversation with that vulture, a fawn resting in his lap. He had horns that curled back and near-white hair that framed a delicate face, pulled back into a low bun and decorated with flowers, ones with petals you’d only seen near these woods, fluttering mysteriously over you. 

When he took notice of you, his rose-tinted eyes lit up with excitement. As if sensing that he was about to jump up, the fawn opted to skitter out of his lap before it was launched. You barely had time to flinch as he ran to you, somehow not tripping on roots or tearing his ornate clothing, and took your hands in his. 

“You’re here,” he said, as if he had been expecting you, “I was so worried you wouldn’t come, that you’d forgotten our promise—”

He was cut off by a low voice, another man where the vulture once stood, ears morphed into black feathers, left hand with six fingers ending in razor-sharp talons, dressed in attire befitting an ancient warrior, though modified for daily wear.

“She has, young master. I had to chase her just so she’d even consider going into the forest.”

“Oh,” he sighed.

You blinked, completely taken aback by this entire situation, “Excuse me, what? You and the bird—” 

“Harpy, if you would. I don’t particularly enjoy being compared to those uncivilized things.” 

“Sorry, harpy, said I forgot something? A promise?”

The light-haired man nodded, sighing yet again. “Yes, you have. Here, I'll explain it to you somewhere more comfortable— oh, your poor legs are covered in scratches.” He shot a glare at his guard.

“Did you have to chase her, Val? She looks terrified. All cut up and bruised, poor thing.”

The harpy nodded. “Like I said, she wasn’t going on her own. Would’ve taken her forever to stumble back here.”

“I’m so sorry about him,” he said, “had I known, I would’ve gotten you myself. Now, you must be exhausted. Come, I’ll bring you home.” Again, before you had a chance to react, he swept you off your feet and carried you in his arms, surprisingly strong for how gentle he looked. The look that Val gave you told you there was no use in fighting him, so you relaxed, almost falling asleep with your head against his chest before you arrived in front of a huge tree, one that had been turned into some kind of cottage. Once you were inside, he set you down in a nest of sorts, of soft blankets and pillows that you recognised as being from your house. He had Val make you both a cup of tea and carefully explained what he and his guard meant by a promise you’d forgotten. First by introducing himself as Eden Lathurna, a prince of forest fairies. He explained that fairies didn’t have royalty in the way humans did, but that it was the best way to explain who he was without confusing you or going into a long lecture about their history.

As a child, it turns out, you often explored the woods. You had to be warned to stay away so often because you kept going back. Eden, apparently, also had a habit of slipping out of his guardian’s sight and wandering the vast forest. Your paths first crossed when you found him caught in a trap your father had set out for raccoons, and you freed him without a second of hesitation. Of course, he’d never met a human before, and he was already scared, so your first interaction was short-lived as he ran off, back into the deep forest. You ran into each other again, then again, and again, and formed a bond, to the point that the forest itself seemed to claim you as its own, branches and vines moving out of your way as you ran and played with your dear friend. One summer in seventh grade, though, you and your family decided to stay with some family members in New York, and when you returned, you found Eden distraught. He thought you had abandoned him, left him behind without even a goodbye. Between your numerous apologies and his sniffling, wiping back tears, a promise was made.

“Promise me,” he said, “swear that whatever happens, you’ll come back to me.”

Eden let out a soft laugh before taking a sip of his sweet, flowery-smelling drink, “It was so long ago, and you forgot, but here you are, just like you promised. Maybe a part of you still remembers even after all these years.”

“Sorry,” you mumbled, “I don’t know how I could’ve forgotten something like that. I really don’t take promises lightly, I wouldn’t have-” 

Seeing you tensing up and beginning to spiral, Eden moved to hold your face in his hands.

“Hey,” he said, “it’s okay. We can worry about that later, but you’re here now and you need to rest, my love. I’ll be here with you in the morning.”

Under normal circumstances you would have questioned the use of that affectionate nickname, but you were really tired. Too tired to ask any more questions tonight. As you curled up in the pillows and blankets, drifting into a calm sleep, you felt Eden join you, arms pulling you close against him, as if he were scared that if he let go he would lose you again.