#pursuer pov

[the-bar-sinister]

Imagine grabbing your needy, depressed, or low self-esteem etc F/O in your arms and holding them tightly, kissing them and reminding them that you love them, and that they are absolutely worthy of your love.

[writingquestionsanswered]

I struggle so hard to write action scenes. Chase scenes in particular.

Any advice?

Struggling to Write Chase Scenes

I think the tendency is to feel like you need to render the entire chase, from beginning to end, and that's not just logistically challenging, it's boring and your mind is acutely aware of that fact. So, the key with chase scenes is to boil it down to the key moments and use the POV character's thoughts, emotions, description, and sensory details to fill in the rest.

So, for example, you might start with a character bolting out of their hiding spot and mentally noting that their pursuers are close behind. This is a good point to examine what the character is thinking about as they're being chased, what emotions are they feeling, what internal sensations do they feel, what do they physically feel (their heart pounding, their footsteps crashing against the pavement). Then you might describe something up ahead... some obstacle they need to overcome or something they can duck into for cover, this brings it back to the action of the chase while pushing the distance covered forward. Maybe the character thinks about their pursuers or notes things about them as they run past. The character catches their breath, then takes off down a different path.

This way, you're not describing every second of the chase so much as giving a taste of it while using these other elements to provide descriptive and emotional depth.

I hope that helps!

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[midnightlazule]

{NSFW} Teratophilia [Katakuri x AFAB!reader] (Mythology AU / 2023 KT)

Summary | Being followed by a dangerous man, and offering your virginity for protection, you meet a mysterious deity that wishes you to be his wife.

CW | AFAB reader / she/her pronouns / mentions of death / loss of virginity / first time / monster fucking fic / p in v sex / size difference / marking / double penetration

Katakuri x female reader / third person POV / implications of death / mentions of virginity / first time / mentions of snakes / smut

It was dark, far too dark for your liking as you walked home, clutching your dress in your hands. It had been a long day out in the fields, pushing along sheep and harvesting all of the ready crops, you had decided to take a nap under one of the many trees that spotted the fields.

You hadn't realized how much time had passed until you woke up, being met with no sheep, and no daylight. The walk through the field was a long one, with the threat of coyotes you were already on edge. The shepherd dogs would be far gone by now, with the sheep that were probably on the other side of the field.

Trying to keep your anxiety under control, you walked through the barren streets of the town you lived in. Not at all appreciating how long it took to get to your house, regardless of the dim lights that spotted the streets, you still felt heavily unsafe. It was so much better in the mornings, not having to worry about dark alleyways that swirled with inky black abysses, or the fear inducing footsteps you heard not too far behind you.

Your heart stopped in that moment, realizing that the footsteps you were hearing were in fact there, and very very real. It wasn't a trick of your ears, nor your anxiety. You could hear their shoes hitting the ground, a small clank of something metal followed right after, could it be a weapon?

Continuing on the path, albeit a little faster now, you tried to keep your breathing leveled. Fear gripping at your heart, and you were no longer worried about the monstrous things that could be lurking in the alleyways.

The sound of the footsteps grew a little more rapid, meaning they had also picked up the pace. You had hoped that maybe it was another random townsperson that was out for a walk, maybe someone who would depart on their own separate path. But those hopes were quickly tossed away when they kept on your tail. You tried to take a few sudden turns, but to no avail.

Suddenly, whoever it was, came running at you. Kicking up dirt you scrambled to get out of the way, their hand narrowly missing your hair by mere inches. They fell back and hit the nearest building with a grunt, knocking over some pottery and causing a commotion.

You used this moment to turn tail and run as fast as you could, sandals digging into the ground as you cried out in fear. Your eyes were wide, tears threatened to spill. The uneven grounds paid no mercy to you, almost twisting your ankle as you tried to get away. Dread settled stronger in your stomach as the lights had vanished, you had taken a road that didn't lead where your home resided.

It was too late to try and go back, you could hear your pursuer catching up.

The wind had picked up, causing your hair to slip out of its restraints, getting in your eyes and mouth you sputtered. The momentary blindness cause you to run and trip onto something hard, a yell of surprise and pain sounded as you hit your head on the rough pavement below you. Scrambling to your feet, you ignored the dull pain in the side of your head and shins.

You had made your way to one of the few unkept temples that littered the area, seeking refuge inside you quickly hid yourself behind one of the far back pillars. The footsteps of whoever was following you echoed as their shoes hit the pavement.

Placing your hands over your mouth, you tried to calm your breathing, trying to stay as quiet as possible in order to keep yourself hidden. Multiple prayers of protection echoed in your head as you asked whatever deity that resided in this temple to help you, promising your forever gratitude and worship.

Tears were streaming down your face, the prayers weren't working. Growing more desperate as the footsteps grew closer, you chose to offer the one thing you had that you knew would entice any deity.

Your virginity.

A loud boom of thunder roared as you made this prayer, the temple itself shook from the sheer pressure. Soon another presence made itself known, the tall and large man was covered in shadows, but his crimson eyes glowed with fury.

Your ears popped from the pressure this being exhibited, having to press your hands to your ears, you curled up into a ball and shut your eyes as hard as you could. The winds grew harsher, and you swore you could've felt something slithering over your feet and legs.

The sound of screaming prompted you to curl yourself up even tighter, tears left your eyes in stream and your body shook with fear.

But just like that, it had ended.

The pressure was gone, the screams had stopped, and the wind died down. You shook as you got to your feet, sniffling. Looking around cautiously, you didn't see a single soul. The man who was following you was gone, and the being who had appeared vanished.

With shaking hands, you laid them atop the stone altar that was in the back middle of the temple, giving a soft thank you before limping out of the temple. The night seemed more calmer now, almost as if you were promised a safe walk home.

You had completely missed the mangled body that sat off to the side of the temple, covered in slithering snakes that watched as you left.

----

A few weeks had passed after your terrifying encounter, you had begun to feel safer, almost as if you had an angel with you at all times, protecting you. During the days when you had time, you brought freshly baked goods, a pitcher of water, and dried herbs to the temple where you were saved.

You still didn't know what deity had previously been worshipped in the temple, there were no pictures, no symbols. It was a plain temple with beautiful pillars and a stone altar that had beautiful engravings on it. Though the engravings were just fancy designs, you had noticed the imagery of snakes hidden within them.

Leaving offerings and gifts became a frequent occurrence, even going as far as to bringing your dinner with you to share with the mystery deity. You had begun to enjoy doing such things, it wasn't repetitive like taking care of sheep and harvesting crops was.

Sure you weren't accompanied by anyone, and no one showed up, but the reminder that someone was there for you regardless of what you had offered, was still a pleasant thing. You had been rather lonely inside this town, refusing to marry any of the men that asked for your hand in marriage.

None of them were the right ones, and you wished for true love. Your parents weren't happy with this fact, kicking you out you've learned to live by yourself until the age of 23. You've been happy ever since, no longer having them nag you about finding a lover, and that true love was overrated.

Pretty soon, weeks turned into months, and you found yourself cleaning up the temple in your free time. Cleaning out all of the cobwebs, scrubbing the dark stains on the floors to the best of your ability. You even removed all the vines that grew on the outside, which was a challenge.

You had to use a very heavy, long stick to attempt to pull the majority of them off since you didn't have a ladder.

One thing you did figure out was the crazy snake infestation the temple had, finding at least three snakes a day, you gently picked them up and shooed them out. Stating that it wasn't a place for them, and that they'd have to find a new home.

One snake in particular you found would constantly pop up.

It had dazzling crimson eyes, much like the ones you saw on the mysterious deity that had saved you. The markings on its scales were a pretty cerise color, shining beautifully in the light. Its teeth were strange, having four teeth instead of two, all of them protruded from its mouth, sitting outside of its mouth instead of curling inside like how they naturally were supposed to.

No matter how many times you tried to get rid of it, it would pop back up, almost as if the temple were its home. You had grown tired of trying to shoo the poor thing out, and instead ended up making a cozy little area for it.

You often ended up complimenting it on its beautiful scales, even though you knew it didn't understand you. You had gone far enough to run your fingers along its scales as it passed by you. It had looked back at you, its eyes watching you before continuing on.

Not once had you imagined that snake would've been anything more than a normal snake with a few peculiar defects.

----

A year had passed, and you continued to show up, you were going to be turning 26. Your visits to the temple continued, and your conversations with the snake grew more frequent, opting to talk to something that couldn't respond rather than anyone in your town.

It was nice, despite your company being nothing more than a snake, you had grown to appreciate its presence. You had even begun picking it up, letting it coil around your arm. It always looked so comfortable as it sat there, eyes watching you as you lazed about.

One thing you had never done was given it a name, always referring to it as 'snake'. You weren't the best when it came to naming things, never had been.

The day of your birthday was an interesting one, everything seemed to be going right for you. The sheep actually listened, the crops were harvested with ease, and the wind didn't torment you on your trek back.

Even the prices at the markets were surprisingly low, you would've assumed that the townspeople lowered them since it was your birthday, but knew it was far fetched. They all thought you were strange, even going as far as to call you a witch with how often you visited the temples.

Returning home with your ingredients, you got started on making your cake.

---

The hour was late when you finished making your cake, taking slices of it to the temple. You laid a plate down on the stone altar, putting your hands together you gave your thanks to the deity once again.

A deep rumble startled you from your prayer, the familiar pressure circled you, its feeling almost suffocating. Turning around, your eyes met with the deity you had seen a year ago, the same one that had saved you.

It stared down at you, crimson eyes narrowed, his face was partially covered. Your eyes traveled down from his face, to his torso, and further down. It was then you realized his lower half was that of a snake, those brilliant cerise scales shone in the firelight that lit up the temple.

It finally clicked with you, that he was the snake you had befriended, the same one you had built a makeshift bed for. Suddenly you felt embarrassed that you had given such a poorly made gift to a deity.

Without saying a word, he approached you, scales slithered quietly over the rough pavement. His eyes never left yours, lowering himself down to your height, he leveled his face with yours. Taking a few steps back, you almost fell back on the stone altar, catching yourself, you flinched as you felt your hand connect with something squishy, and slightly wet.

It smeared under your hand, getting in between your fingers. You looked down and felt the blood leave your body, you had smushed the piece of cake you were giving as offering to the very deity standing before you.

"I-i'm sorry" you squeaked, far too afraid to do anything.

His eyes flickered from your face, down to your hand. Bringing a hand up to his face he removed the large piece of cloth that covered his face. He reached forward, grabbing your arm that was so much smaller than him in comparison.

You closed your eyes, expecting the worse as he brought your cake smeared hand up to his mouth. Feeling something wet in-between your fingers you peeked at the man, face burning a bright red when you realized he was licking and sucking the cake off of each digit.

The blush only worsened when you felt a flash of heat travel down to your core, not expecting to get turned on by such things you covered your mouth with your free hand and looked away.

"Are you not scared?" a deep, smooth voice asked.

You looked over at him, still covering your mouth. He had let go of your hand, now clean from any cake residue. "Scared..?" you asked, "yes, do my features not instill fear into you?" he clarified.

"No? I mean, not really?" you said, though it sounded more like a question. "I.. I've seen you every day, even though I didn't know that it was you, I mean.. at first it was strange since I've never seen a snake that looked like that before, but I got over it, it's really just normal now-" you stopped yourself, realizing you were rambling on about the topic.

"I think you look fine" you squeaked out, feeling ready to faint from the intense gaze he was giving you. A thoughtful hum reverberated in his throat, "it is your birthday today, yes?" he eyed the cake that was smashed on his altar.

"I- yes.. it is" you said quietly, "Uhm.. y-you can have my piece" you quickly grabbed the other piece of cake that was sitting off to the side, offering it up to him. "I know it's not much given you're uh... size but.. I hope you enjoy" You were looking away from him as you offered it, too afraid that he might smack it out of your hands and devour you right there.

A gust of wind was felt, opening an eye you looked over and nearly dropped the plate you were holding. The man was now fully human, despite the scales that still covered parts of his body, and his teeth.

You looked in amazement, eyes traveling down his body you had to prevent yourself from coughing when you saw he had absolutely nothing on to cover his groin. Heat rushed to your face, he was definitely well endowed.

Feeling the plate being taken from your hands, you placed them back to your sides. "It's delicious" he hummed, "I don't think I ever thank you for the food you often brought" he murmured, your heart almost jumped to your throat at that.

"Y-you shouldn't be thanking me it was just- I was just-" you failed to find the words, suddenly feeling bad that a deity, a literal god, was talking about how he failed to give thanks. "It had been a long time since I had someone visit, you were a breath of fresh air, so you deserve my thanks" he lowered his head in gratitude.

You felt uncomfortable with his display of thanks, feeling like you didn't quite deserve it. You bowed your head in respects regardless. "Y-you're welcome" you stammered, "Um... I don't think I ever got your name?" you said, realizing that you not once had been able to figure out the name of the deity that had been worshiped here.

"Katakuri" he spoke, "but you can refer to me with whatever you please" he almost purred. He had finished the cake, setting the plate down he took a few steps up towards you. His eyes shone with something you couldn't quite make out.

His face was mere inches from yours, you could feel his breath on your lips. It smelt of the cake he had just eaten, along with something more metallic.. blood? Had he accidentally cut something on his teeth? They did look rather sharp.

Reaching up without thinking, you placed your hands on his cheeks, and traced your fingers over his fangs. Trying to be careful as to not accidently nick yourself. Katakuri's breathing seemed to deepen at the feeling of your hands on him, his eyes flickering from your eyes down to your lips.

You wondered how it would feel to have him kiss you, would the fangs hurt you? would they somehow retract? You wished to find out.

As if hearing your thoughts, Katakuri slowly lowered his face to yours, having to keep his neck at an awkward angle to accommodate your small height. Your lips touched his, and it felt as if sparks had ignited, kissing him felt.. right as if it were something meant to happen.

Katakuris hands grabbed ahold of your hips, holding you in place as the kiss grew rougher. You felt that same heat from earlier explode throughout your body, running through your veins and causing your breath to quicken.

A moan sounded from your throat, feeling his hands dig into your hips he lifted you onto the altar, siting you down on it. Neither of you broke the kiss, your arms wrapped around his neck, and he pushed your back down onto the altar, crawling on top of you.

Your legs lay spread, sitting on each of his thighs. The one thing keeping you parted was your dress which covered your clothed womanhood. Placing his hands on either side of your head, he broke the kiss.

"Are you sure about this?" he looked down at you, he might've been a deity, capable of all sorts of horrible things, but he still had morals. You nodded, feeling more sure than ever that this was what you wanted, the spark of lust that ignited between the two of you was something you'd never felt before.

His hands left the side of your face, grabbing hold of your dress he shoved it over your hips. A groan left his throat at the sight of your soaked panties, the beautiful smell of your cunt was more enticing than ever before.

He had waited, waited until he was sure that it was the right moment, to finally take the very thing you had offered to him for protection. But he felt greed overtake him, the thought of having you forever, as his wife, enticed him.

You were beautiful, and much deserving of a spot in his domain, where he could make you his lover, his child-bearer. Suddenly, the thought of pumping you full of his seed, seeing you with a large belly filled with his offspring left him impatient.

He had to fill you, right here, right now.

A startled yelp fell from your lips as he ripped off your panties, grabbing hold of your thighs he ducked his head down and licked a clean stripe up your sopping cunt. Your back arched off of the altar, mouth agape as you felt something entirely new.

His tongue worked wonders against you, it was much longer than an average humans, diving deep inside of your hole. Your nails scraped at the stone beneath you, legs threatening to clamp over his head if he didn't keep them still. You were speaking incoherent words as he tasted you.

It seemed he couldn't wait any longer, licking his face clean of your juices, he pumped himself a few times before grinding his erect, warm cock against your slick cunt. You shuddered at the feeling of his cock rubbing against your clit, stimulating it in such a way that left your toes curling.

Slowly inserting his tip, he pushed in, trying to be mindful that you needed time to adjust to his large size. A light sheen of sweat covered the both of your bodies, the sound of heavy breathing bounced off the walls. A gasp left your lips at the feeling of him pushing inside, the almost foreign feeling of it had you eager for more.

Wrapping your legs around his waist, you pushed him forwards, a heavy feeling of need swirled in your abdomen, bringing about a sinful part of you. Moaning out at the feeling of his large girth finally fitting inside of you, you couldn't help but admire the bulge in your stomach.

Katakuri growled, hands placing your legs on either side of his shoulder, he wrapped his arms around your knees. Keeping them straightened, he started thrusting into you, groaning and tilting his head back from the pleasure of it all. Your own noises sounded like angels singing, the beautiful moans that left your plush lips enticed him to go faster, to fuck you even deeper.

Finding that this position was just not working for him, he quickly lowered your legs, lifting you with his strength he placed your chest against his. Grabbing at your hips, he started thrusting upwards into you, watching as your eyes rolled into the back of your head, he let out a slew of curses.

You felt so good fluttering and clenching around him like that, the way your cunt leaked juices all over his cock and balls was one of the greatest delights he'd ever had. His thrusting became more animalistic, fingers digging into your hips, and balls slapping against you with each thrust.

"H-hnng- K-kata!" you moaned, using the nickname by accident. Katakuri however didn't mind, fuck he loved the way you called his name, shortened or not.

You laid your head against his shoulder, mouth drooling all over his collarbone. You ran your tongue against his salty skin and had the sudden idea to bite down. A deep, guttural groan sounded deep from his throat as you sunk your teeth into his skin. Hips stuttering, he thrusted up into you as far as he could go, finally releasing his cum inside of you.

Removing your teeth from his skin, you looked up at him "sorry" was all you had to say, smiling sheepishly at him. Katakuri breathed heavily, watching you with lidded eyes he lifted you off of his cock, setting you down. "Face the altar" he commanded, and you obliged, feeling a little bit of fear swirl in your chest.

He grabbed his make-shift scarf from the ground, and set it on the altar, making a makeshift pillow of sorts. Grabbing the back of your neck, he pushed you down onto the altar, keeping your ass in the air he ran a hand over one of your soft ass cheeks.

A groan sounded from your throat as he brought his hand down, a 'SMACK' echoed throughout the temple, and a stinging feeling sent shivers up your spine. Your back had arched a little farther upon feeling this, much to Katakuri's pleasure. "Look at you, dirty little sinner" he hissed, rubbing his hand over the red mark adorning your ass cheek.

You said nothing as he brought his hand down once again, the sting causing you to clench around nothing. You could feel your own juices mixed with Katakuri's running down your legs.

Another gust of wind was felt, though this time, Katakuri placed his hand on your head, keeping you from moving. You felt the strange, smooth texture of his scales against your legs, knowing very well that he changed back to his original form. You weren't scared, instead you felt a strange sense of need pool to your core, the thought of being fucked by him while in his half snake form was exhilarating.

He knelt down, leaving soft kisses along your back, being mindful of his teeth. You shivered against his touch, feeling his cock press against one of your ass cheeks. It felt different, heavier, with a ribbed, larger base.

"My love.." Katakuri groaned, grinding against you, "before I begin, I must know if you're okay with this" he asked, fingers lightly digging into your sides as he held himself back. "With you in your uh.. snake form?" You didn't quite know what to call it. He chuckled, "no, no I am aware you're alright with it, I mean breeding you" he said almost matter-of-factly.

Your face flushed at the idea, "you mean having your.. kids? Would that even be y'know.. possible?" you questioned, "You're a deity and I am a mortal" you added, looking back at him with a confused stare. "Yes, but if I breed you, you become my mate for life, we will be forever bound to each other" he pondered for a moment, "that means you will take on ruling my domain with me, you will be my queen, a deity of sorts."

"I must know if you're okay with it, you have already completed your end of the deal, it is my own selfish reasons that I am asking you this" he breathed, placing another kiss on your back. You thought about it for a moment, it wasn't as if you'd be leaving very much behind...

Your parents no longer wished to see you, the townsfolk thought of you as some witch, and you disliked the heavy work you had to do each day. "I'm okay with it" you said softly, looking back at Kataukri the best you could with loving eyes.

He seemed to beam with happiness at this, eyes lighting up. Dragging his fingers across your back, he drew some kind of symbol with his fingers, feeling the light sting of something pricking your back you hissed.

"Sorry, my love" he ran his tongue over the wound, licking up the small bubbles of blood that had formed on your skin. Sliding his hands away from your back, he rested them on your hips, lifting you a bit off of the altar.

Giving no warning, he thrusted inside of you. It felt like the air had been knocked out of your lungs, feeling two cocks inside of you. Your eyes rolled to the back of your head, not expecting the sudden intrusion of two cocks filling both your holes. His ribbed shaft allowed for even more pleasure each time he thrusted into you, the wet noise of him filling you echoing around the temple. Digging your fingers into the side of the altar, you cared not for any broken nails as you cried out in pure ecstasy.

The symbol Katakuri had drawn on your back began to slightly burn, going un-noticed by you, you continued to enjoy the the feeling of Kata stuffing you full. His grunts and moans intermingled with yours as they bounced off of the temple walls.

Katakuri leaned forward, pushing his hips into yours he rutted deep inside of you. Leaving kisses along your shoulder blades, he watched as tears of pleasure streamed from your face. "Just a little longer my love... Just a little longer until I fill you with my seed, you will bare such beautiful children" Kata groaned, body trembling as he worked himself closer and closer to release.

He could feel you tightening against him, knowing you were close as well, he wished to try and cum together. Blood smeared over his stomach and chest as he laid against you, the faint metallic scent of it cause his mouth to water.

"So sorry my dear.." Katakuri apologized before digging his sharp fangs into your shoulder. You screamed out, a mixture of pain and pleasure in your voice. An apologetic rumble thrummed in his throat, truly feeling bad. He just couldn't help himself.

Digging his teeth into you seemed to be the one thing that rushed you towards release, feeling the way your cunt and ass clenched and throbbed around him. It caused his own orgasm to hit its peak, giving a couple more strong thrusts he released your shoulder and moaned out, cumming deep inside of both your holes.

His vision nearly went black, slumping against you he kept himself deep inside, determined to not allow you to leak even a drop. The both of you breathed heavily, Kata looked at the bitemark on your shoulder and felt guilt swirl in his stomach.

Dragging his tongue at the bitemarks, he rubbed your side soothingly, feeling you flinch in pain with every lap of his tongue. Leaving a kiss on the middle of your back, he pulled away from you.

He was about to begin cleaning up, until he heard the nearby yells of the townsfolk that lived near his temple. Had they heard your scream?

Cleaning up the temple was no longer a choice, grabbing you and his scarf he looked around one last time before vanishing in a plume of smoke. The only evidence of you being there was your torn dress, the empty plate, and the discarded piece of smeared cake sitting on the far side of the altar.

A dozen of townsfolk approached the temple, weapons in hand as they slowly made their way inside. It was lit up by lanterns, and in the back lay your tattered dress.

[hyperfixatedoncrimminalminds]

Spencer Reid x Autistic son reader

So sorry for taking so long to write this oneshot!

Requested by : Larri6ox

Request: Spencer is a dad to a 14 year old boy he is autistic and someone was stalking Spencer and yn one day after school he gets kidnapped Spencer was spiraling and the team searched for yn while that was going on yn was tied to a pole beaten and tasered it took the team 4 days to find yn Spencer ripped to the ropes off yn while the rest took down the unsub yn clung to his dad crying and overwhelmed he couldn't even speak Spencer comforted yn as the paramedics fixed him up yn slept in Spencer's arms when they got home yn was to scared to sleep by himself around 3 am yn woke up screaming from a nightmare Spencer woke up and held yn to comfort him yn was muttering about an accident Spencer got the hint that yn wet himself Spencer calms him down and helps yn get cleaned up they slept on the couch watching Tom and Jerry.

This is a long request, hope you like it.

Third person pov...

In the twilight's embrace, as the city buzzed with activity, a sinister plot unfolded, targeting an innocent youth named Y/N.

Y/N Reid was walking home from school when he found himself the unwilling target of a sinister stalker. Unbeknownst to him, a shadowy figure had been pursuing Special Agent Spencer Reid's beloved child, leaving Y/N vulnerable.

On that fateful day, as Y/N strolled home along the familiar path, a sudden chill ran down his spine.

A figure emerged from the darkness, his movements purposeful and menacing. Y/N's heart pounded with fear as he realized he was being followed.

Panic consumed him as he broke into a desperate run, his small legs carrying him as fast as he could.

But the unsub, his relentless pursuer, was closing in. The air grew thick with terror as Y/N's cries for help went unanswered. "Help me! Please!" He cries though knowone could hear him.

In a secluded alleyway, the unsub lay in wait. With a swift and ruthless move, he snatched Y/N and disappeared into the night.

Spencer, at his wits' end with worry, spiraled into a desperate search. The BAU team rallied around him, leaving no stone unturned.

Bound and helpless, he was tethered to a desolate pole, his body wracked with pain from relentless beatings and electric shocks. The cruel tormentors lingered nearby, their twisted minds devising further atrocities.

The unsub laughed as the boys screamed echoes through the dark warehouse.

The piercing screams of the taser echoed through the desolate space, leaving his body battered and broken. Fear gnawed at his soul as he endured unimaginable pain.

Y/N thought of his dad, he thought how he wouldn't give up on him, he knew he would save him he had too.

For days, the BAU searched tirelessly, their hearts heavy with each passing hour, Y/Ns absence tugged at their very souls. Especially Spencer, the man had forgot to sleep, eat.

He never left the bullpen he his only thought was Y/N, he had to find his son, then finally on the fourth day, a breakthrough emerged from the darkness. A tip led them to the warehouse where the H/C boy was being held captive.

With lightning speed, Spencer raced through the labyrinthine corridors, his determination fueled by the desperate hope of finding his child alive. As he burst into the warehouse, a sight met his eyes that sent shivers down his spine.

A pipe stood in the middle of the dark room, the smell was awful filled with sweat and dried blood. His eyes filled with anger. "Y/N!" He yells racing over to the likp body.

"Don't be dead don't be dead" he muttered as he neared the limp body of his Son.

Y/N was tied to the pole, his body bruised and battered, hung helpless from the pole. Spencer's heart shattered as he ripped the ropes from his son's frail body.

The boy fell limply into his Dad's arms, Spencer quickly covered the boy and held him tightly. "Shush shush its okay Baby, I'm here I'm here " he mumbled in the H/C hair dried blood stuck to the strands.

He held his son in his arms, the boy shaking as if it was winter, the agent could tell his was overwhelmed and didn't push him to talk only happy that he was alive.

As the boy was cut from his bonds the rest of the team swiftly apprehended the unsub, their rage a palpable force in the air.

Spencer held his precious boy close, offering him a safe haven from the nightmare he had endured, he continued to carry the boy out of the warehahouse and outside where the paramedics were waiting, they had been called before hand.

As they worked Spencer held his son, the boy had found solace in the gentle presence of his protector, grateful he was safe and finally not being hurt.

The warmth of his dad's arms and the gentle sway of their bodies brought a sense of serenity amidst the turmoil, he fell into the light sleep.

Back at home, it took Spencer a few hours to get the boy to sleep, Y/N had been on edge and awake for four days straight, but once he was asleep it was almost 1am, Spencer kept the door open slightly so he would hear if the boy had a nightmare.

The man situated himself in the living room, on the sofa he sat with a book in his hands, hearing any sounds that came from his son's room, he was ready to leap up and go to his son if he needed.

Hours later he awoke with a scream of pure anguish, A nightmare had gripped him, his body jerking and his voice filled with anguish as he whispered of an accident.

Tangled in his sheets he attempted to run but couldn't, bejng stuck reminded him of the ropes.

After hearing the scream Spencer had leaped from the sofa throwing his book away he ran to his Son room, throwing the door open he saw the boy was stuck, the covers had wrapped around his ankle.

Seeing the problem Spencer quickly unwrapped the blanket trapping the boy, leg now free Y/N woke up fully.

Looking around breathing heavy. "Daddy!" He cries hands out reaching for his Dad, Spencer quickly sat down next to the boy and pulled him into his arms.

"It's okay N/N, it's me its Dad" at that Y/N relaxed and slumped into the man's arms, Spencer rubbed his back before pulling the boy into his arms, appealing enought pressure that made Y/N feel safe.

After a few minutes Spencer tried to get Y/N to release him but the boy wouldn't budge. "Y/N, is something wrong?" He whispers, the boy nods his head. He mutters something into his Dad's shoudler.

The young Dr is confused before he sees the wet ost where his son was sleeping, he then realises, comforting the boy he clean up the remnants of his nightmare, changing his soiled clothes and tending to his shaken body.

Once he was done Y/N still wouldn't let go of him, realising he was still scared Spencer took him to the living room. He also grabbed numerous pillows and soft blankets for them and set them on the sofa.

As they settled back on the couch, Reid held Y/N close, his heart aching with both love and protectiveness, he put on Y/Ns favourite cartoon Tom and Jerry.

Together, they drifted off to sleep on the couch, Spencer laying his back to the arm of the sofa, on top rest his son tucked into his chest breathing normal, no longer shaking from the nightmare, the animated antics of Tom and Jerry providing a soothing backdrop to their weary minds.

The end!

Finished hoped you liked this oneshot so sorry for the wait, as usual sorry for any grammar and Spelling mistakes!

Requests are open!

Word count : 1365

[mnemomnemonomi]

Roronoa Zoro x Child Reader : The Sword's Thief

Hello everyone ! I finished translating another One Shot I wrote on Wattpad. It's still in third POV, I might change after finishing all the translation of the "old OS".

Synopsis : Y/n a little child thought it was a good idea to steal one of Zoro's sword to beat up her island's tyran.

Content : NO ROMANCE, Y/n is 8 years old, Y/n is used by a pirate just like Nami was with Aarlong (nothing detailed), the villain is a cartoon's villain, Zoro need a GPS, Zoro centered.

Words : 2.6k

The Sword's Thief

Cries echoed through the bustling streets of an ordinary town as a young girl sprinted, her legs pumping, clutching a paper bag tightly in her small arms. This was none other than little Y/n, known by all as the pint-sized thief of the Wicked Mustachio's pirate’s crew. He had complete control over the town, extorting merchants, menacing the villagers, coercing the homeless into service, and even resorting to violence against men who didn't let their wives entertain the captain...

In short, he was a tyrant.

Little Y/n was aware of this. Despite her tender age, she had attempted to escape by sea, but each time, she never got far. Today was her eighth birthday, or at least the day she had chosen to celebrate it. Being an orphan, she had little information about her family and had been forced to join this abominable man just to survive.

However, his reign would come to an end today, on the child's eighth birthday. This time, she was determined to end it. What was the use of escaping to the sea if she were to die afterward? No, Y/n would become free again, she would learn to sail, and more than that, she would travel the world!

With such determination, her pursuers were quickly shaken off as she sat against a wall in a dark alley. She opened the paper bag she held tightly in her hands and pulled out an apple. Her stomach rumbled at the sight of the shiny fruit, despite the darkness. In a matter of minutes, she devoured the fruit and congratulated herself on choosing to steal something good this time. It wouldn't have been the first time the girl with (e/c) eyes stole a half-rotten or even spoiled fruit.

She ate the other apple in the bag while watching a group of young adults outside a restaurant. They were surprisingly loud for such a simple task as eating, especially the one dressed in red with a straw hat on his head. It was precisely this hat that got the girl thinking. She had seen this young man somewhere before...

It was when she saw the man with green hair and an unhappy expression that she remembered. He was from the famous Straw Hat Pirate crew. As far as she knew, they were very strong pirates who had already defeated a Shichibukai!

She found herself admiring and envying them. There was no doubt that if she had even a quarter of their strength, she could give that mustachioed man a good beating! While watching the pirates eat, an idea came to her. The man with green hair, Zoro the pirate hunter, was known to be very strong. However, he hadn't eaten a Devil Fruit, so how could he be so powerful without any powers? That's when Y/n concluded that his swords were not simple blades; they must surely contain incredible power!

"If I could have at least one, I could show that fatso!" thought the little girl.

Careful not to get caught, Y/n slipped through the crowd until she reached the Mugiwara crew's table. She paid no attention to the faces enjoying their meal, too absorbed in her effort to remain discreet. She examined the three swords rested on a wall near the pirate’s chair. She finally decided which one to take, having a preference for the white one. She gently lifted it, making no noise, and began to move away. She sighed in relief after a few steps, thinking she was far enough when she heard a voice.

"Zoro, someone's stealing your sword," announced the captain, chewing on his meat.

"What?!?" he replied, turning to his swords.

"Oops!" thought the little girl as she started running.

"Hey! Come back, you little brat! Give me back the Wado Ichimonji!" ordered the pirate hunter, chasing after her.

"I'm taking your share, Zoro!" shouted the straw hat as he dug into his plate.

The girl with (h/c) hair hurried through several alleyways, relying on her knowledge of the city to lose the pirate. It didn't take long, and after about three alleys, she was all alone.

"For a famous pirate, he's stupid. He can't even keep up with me," thought Y/n a little bit surprised.

She didn't think much of it and decided to put her plan into action. She was going to end Mustr the Wicked Mustachio's reign! She walked calmly and decisively toward the pirate's hideout. After a few minutes, she arrived at a large square place where tents were set up. She knew that the one in the back, the largest, belonged to the captain. As she was about to enter the place, pirates blocked her way.

"What are you doing here, kid?" asked a brunette man.

"You don't have the right to be here," replied his purple-hatted accomplice.

"I work for Mustr!" she retorted.

"Yeah, right! And I'm Whitebeard!" scoffed the first man.

"I'm Y/n! Mustr asked me to steal from people and give him money!"

"Huh? You’re starting to get on my nerves, kid. Do you want me to put two little holes in your pretty skull?" threatened one of the pirates.

"Wait, her name sounds familiar, and look at this sword. She could never use it to harm us. We have revolvers; she's not inoffensive. Let her in," conceded the man with the hat.

"As you wish, but if something happens, it's on you..."

The little girl entered the square and walked proudly to the large tent, despite the mocking glances from the pirates. She stood in front of a small man who was a few inches taller than her and stared at him with determination. The man got up from his couch and stroked his red mustache with an arrogant smile.

"Hello, my little Y/n, I see you've brought me a sword. Is that all you have? Because it's clearly not enough for what you cost me in food."

"I'm not here for that. I'm going to kill you, Mustr!"

"You? A mere eight-year-old, an orphan no less?"

"Exactly! And you'll beg me to spare you, even your horrible mustache will beg me!"

"What? What did you say about my mustache? Horrible mustache? You insolent little brat!" he exclaimed as his mustache grew and coiled around Y/n.

"I can't move! I need to draw the sword and cut this thing!" she thought, trying to unsheathe the sword from its scabbard.

"Listen well, you insolent child. I am Mustr the Wicked Mustachio! I control this island, and a kid like you won't stand up to me! You wanted to kill me with this sword? What a shame; it's mine now," laughed the mini pirate as he snatched the sword from the girl's hands.

"Ah, ah, ah, ah, it's over," mocked one of his henchmen.

"Any last words?" the redhead asked, drawing the sword.

Y/n closed her eyes wishing once again that she was stronger. Even if she died right there, she would curse him to death !

"Hey. You there, the furry one, didn't anyone tell you to not touch people's stuff?" asked a male voice.

"Hmm? Oh, I see. You're the one who owned this sword that this kid stole."

"I want you to give it back to me."

"Sorry, but you see, this kid belongs to me, so everything she has is actually mine. So now, get lost," Mustr replied.

"I won't repeat myself. Give me back this sword, and I promise not to slice you up too much," threatened the green-haired man.

"You're going to slice me? Show me how you’d do that!" mocked the small sized pirate. "Guys, get him!"

"Captain!"

"What?!" he snapped sharply.

"He's already wiped out all our men!" replied the henchman badly beaten up.

"It's impossible!"

"Ittoryu: Shishi Sonson!"

In a matter of seconds, Mustr was cut down while Y/n was released from the pirate's grip. She fell to the ground, coughing, before taking a deep breath. She held her throat, wincing, and watched as the former pirate hunter reclaimed his white sword. The little girl suppressed a tremor when she realized the green-haired man was approaching her with a menacing look.

"You! What were you planning to do with my sword, huh?" he demanded.

"I-I wanted to beat him!" she replied while clenching her small fists with anticipation.

"What? A kid like you with my sword? Let me laugh; you wouldn't even be able to unsheathe it!"

"..."

"Tsss, what an annoying kid. Now I don't know where the others are."

"Um... Mister...?"

“What?!”

“I, um... Thank you for helping me.”

“Huh? I just wanted to get the Wado Ichimonji back.”

“I see…”

“Hey, take me back to my captain. After all, it's the least you can do after all of this, right?”

“Hmm,” Y/n agreed.

And so, the little girl, accompanied by Zoro, set off to reunite with the Straw Hat crew. What should have taken only a few minutes turned into several hours due to the famous swordsman's sense of direction. Fortunately for Y/n, they finally arrived at the port where the Thousand Sunny was anchored. The two boarded the ship when suddenly Zoro teased her.

"Well, you really don't know your city."

"You were the one who got lost!" replied the little girl, momentarily forgetting her fear of him.

"Oi, Zoro! Did you get your sword back?" asked the straw-hatted captain, approaching.

"Yeah, in the blink of an eye," smiled the swordsman.

"Oh, you're the little thief!" the captain noted, extending his neck to be at Y/n's height.

"Aaaaaaaah!" she exclaimed, seeing the abnormal length of the young man's neck.

"What's going on?!" asked a orange-haired woman who emerged from the ship's cabin.

"I don't know; she screamed out of nowhere." replied the one with an abnormal long neck.

"You idiot, you scared her," Zoro retorted.

"Oh, how cute," the young woman admitted.

"H-His neck, it-" stuttered the little girl.

"I'm a rubber man, so it's normal! Nami ! Zoro's here, we can go!" exclaimed the captain.

"Tha-That’s not normal!" pointed the child, hiding behind the swordsman.

"Hey, what are you doing?" he replied watching the kid holding onto his legs.

"He's weird."

"I know, no need to stick yourself to me."

"I wasn't sticking to you!" retorted Y/n.

"Oh, really? Then what were you doing, you scaredy-cat?" smiled Zoro.

"I'm not a scaredy-cat! I was just being careful not to step on you, you know, with the grass!"

"Wha-What did you say, you brat? You want me to slice you like that furry gu-"

"Isn't it over yet?!" Nami exclaimed a bit mad.

"Honestly, bickering with a child, you really are a brainless cactus," added a blond man.

"What, you too? Are you picking a fight with me?"

As the two pirates began to argue, Luffy and Nami approached Y/n. At first, she was wary of them, until the captain made funny faces that could rival even the most experienced clowns. She recounted what had happened, from Mustr's control of the island to today. Nami couldn't help but see a bit of herself in the girl, and she decided to take the little girl wherever she wanted. Of course, Luffy didn't see any problem with it since it was one of his crewmate's wishes.

"Really?! Hum, then the next island!" Y/n asked.

"Are you sure?" asked worriedly Nami.

"Yes, I'm going to go around the world when I’ll be a grownup!"

"We're seriously taking the kid with us?" Zoro complained.

"Does that bother you, Zoro?" Nami threatened.

"Yeah, but I'll get used to it," he replied, sensing the redhead's stern gaze.

A few minutes later, the ship named Thousand Sunny raised its sails for the next island. Throughout the journey, the little girl got to know the Straw Hat crew and found them very amusing, especially the captain!

Her stay was mainly spent with Chopper, whom Y/n liked to call "Fluffy", but also with Zoro. Strangely, she followed him almost everywhere. When he trained with his dumbbells, she did the same, or at least tried to.

"284...285...286...” counted the green-haired man.

“Gnnn... Gnnnngh!”

“What are you doing here, kid?”

“Don’t call me kid! I have a name! It's Y/n!”

“That doesn't answer my question…Kid.”

“Now you’re doing it on purpose! But I'm training,” answered Y/n while trying to calm her anger down.

“Training for what? You won't be able to lift this; it's way too heavy for a kid like you.”

“Of course, I'll be able to! Just sit down and watch me!” countered the child. “Gnnngh!”

“Don't force it. You realize that you can’t lift it, you're clearly an idiot!" he replied, taking the dumbbell from the child's hands.

"Give it back!"

"Why do you want to train so badly?"

"I want to be as strong as a boy so I can protect people from bad people!" she replied with determination.

"So, you want to become a Marine soldier?" summed up Zoro with an arch brow.

"No! I want to become someone people can rely on when they have problems! If there had been someone on my island, nobody would have suffered so much."

"Okay so you want to become a hero. What a good joke! Heroes share everything, even the advantages," he laughed at the child.

"Like what?"

"Let's say I'm a hero, if I had sake as a reward. I'd have to share it with everyone, but I'd rather keep it for myself. You got it now? You still want to be a hero now?"

"But I don't like sake, so it doesn't matter," Y/n innocently replied with a grimace.

"You didn't get it at all! Are you stupid or what?!"

"I-It's you who explained it badly!" blushed the child sensing that she was made fun of.

"What are you implying that I wouldn’t be a good teacher?!"

"Exactly!"

And they bickered constantly. However, Zoro let her be with him; the 'kid' didn't annoy him that much, and she reminded him a bit of Kuina, wanting to be as strong as a man. After a few days, he even prepared some weights for her to lift since his dumbbells were too heavy for the child. Why did he do that? He had noticed Y/n's longing gaze toward his swords. He deduced that she would like to fight with them someday. For that, she needed to build her strength first, so she could carry them without any problems. That's how Zoro became her 'teacher.'

Two weeks on the open sea, and the Straw Hats finally arrived at the new island. They made some quick purchases to survive until the next island and bid farewell to the girl as the ship sailed away from the port.

"Take care of yourself," advised Nami with a maternal instinct.

"Yes!"

"We'll see each other later Y/n!" the Straw Hat captain greeted with a smile.

"Yes, and I'll show you everything I've seen!" she declared determinedly.

"Hmm. You better keep training; otherwise, you won't even be able to lift a toothpick with those arms," Zoro announced.

"I'll show you my progress, and you'll be so surprised that you'll ask me to train you!" Y/n exclaimed.

"Oh yeah? Well, you better start training quickly. You still have a lot to see before you can scratch me!" Zoro grinned arrogantly.

"Goodbye, Mr. Cactus!" the child greeted, holding back her tears.

"Don't call me that, you little brat!" Zoro yelled, irritated.

As night fell, the swordsman couldn't sleep. He left the dormitory and sat against the Sunny's railing, gazing at the moon. "A twig like you, surpass me? Ha! I'm curious to see that!" he smiled.

[novemberhope]

So... I did a thing and decided to write Neri into the live action timeline. This takes place somewhere shortly before they meet Usopp. So far, it's just Luffy, Nami and Zoro on the crew as well as Neri whom they just have met.

It's kind of from Neri's POV and the reason she's calling them by their titles rather than their names when thinking about them is that she still does not trust them. I think she will start to trust Luffy first because really how can you not?

tw: assault (Neri gets assaulted here but is saved before anything bad can happen) English is not my first language so sorry if the writing feels weird, I haven't written a story in english in a while

"Stop inviting random people onto our ship. Especially if there's nothing they can contribute." "But… she's nice… and I wanted to help her… I'm sure she'll find a place in our crew!" "For the last time, we are not a crew!" The swordsman's words hurt and Neri, not waiting for the captain's answer, slowly moved away from the door. Sure, it had been nice of the rubber boy to help her out when she was on the run from her pursuers. Still, she shouldn't have come with them. This wasn't her place to be, this wasn't her home. The moment these people would learn who - or rather, what - she really was, she would end up being sold again. She would never be safe on a ship where she could come in contact with water so easily. The ship was still at the harbor. This was as good a time as any to leave the ship. She felt sad for the captain to had so nicely offered her a place in his crew, but it was too dangerous. And while rubber boy had been nothing but kind to her, the other two hadn't been as friendly. They clearly didn't trust her. And really, who could blame them? She hadn't been able to tell them anything without giving away her real species, so of course they didn't trust her. And once they knew… mermaids brought in the big cash, especially here in the East Blue, where they were so rare - it would only get her back to where she had fled from. After everything that had happened, after losing everyone she cared about, she wanted a home, a family, a place where she belonged. But this was not it. This could never be it. "Hey, where are you going?" the red-headed navigator asked when Neri slowly tried to climb off the ship. "I… have something… I mean… there's something I need to do", she stammered. She didn't want to say she was leaving - even that didn't feel safe anymore. Just disappear, she told herself. They barely know you. They will move on and you can… Well, that was the thing, the only place she probably would be safe was Fishman Island but it was all the way out there on the Grandline, the Pirate's Graveyard… and to get there, she would have to get on a ship - the very thing she couldn't do because on a ship, she would come in contact with water sooner or later and then everyone would know… "Well, suit yourself," the navigator said with a shrug. "Just be aware, we'll be heading out soon. If you're not back by then…" Neri nodded. She wouldn't be back by then and she figured the navigator knew that. Quickly, she left the ship and started to walk across the harbor, pushing past people. It was a small island but the harbor was still pretty busy during this time of the day. There were people loading the ships, sailors were coming and going, children playing in the middle of all this, running around and causing people to stumble, and passengers impatiently waiting to board one of the bigger ships. It was almost too much noise to handle but Neri kept on walking. For a moment, she thought someone had called her name - maybe the captain? It sounded like him. He had saved her the other day and invited her to join them and she had actually liked him. Still, it wasn't meant to be. Surely, he would understand that she had made her decision. She kept on walking without looking back.

Leaving the harbor, it got even more crowded. There was a market nearby and people all went into this direction, pushing Neri with them. She started to feel anxious. It was too loud, too crowded, too many people just shoving her out for their way when she wasn't walking fast enough. But walking on land was still something she was getting used too. Under the sea, things were not like this - not this crowded, not this loud, not this harsh. Nearby, some men were starting to yell at each other. This brought back unpleasant memories from getting yelled at herself while being imprisoned. Quickly, Neri stepped sideways into the shadows. It was the entry to a side alley with huge, unpleasant smelling dumpsters lining the brick walls on both sides. It was quieter here, the further she kept walking, so she went on, ignoring the unpleasant smell. Maybe this alley would take her away from all the noise and all the people. Sure, she still had no place to go, but anything was better than here right now. But suddenly, she was no longer alone. Behind her, voices got louder and louder. They were talking to each other, it seemed. She stopped and leaned against a wall that belonged to a tall rundown warehouse building. Maybe they would walk past her, minding their own business. Unfortunately, as she had already learned, humans rarely did. These ones were no exception. They were adult males, three of them, with bottles in their hands, obviously already - or still - drunk at this time of the day. Neither of them looked too pleasant. Neri shrank back and just hoped and prayed they would walk past without noticing her. They nearly did. But then one of them turned his head and suddenly stopped. "Look at this," he said. "A little lady…" Quickly, Neri turned, and, avoiding eye contact, tried to keep walking. Unfortunately, she was immediately grabbed and yanked back. "Hey little lady, not so fast," the guy from before said. "Let's have a proper look at you, alright?" "No thank you," Neri muttered and started to run. Unfortunately, she immediately was grabbed. One of the guys was firmly holding her with her arms behind her back while the other two were leering at her. "Please let me go!" "Please let me go!" they mocked her. "There's no chance we're letting you get away, sweetheart. You're too pretty!" Neri started to panic. She tried to kick them, but they only laughed at her attempts to get free. One of them roughly yanked at her hair for trying to kick him. "Be nice," he warned her. "Or we'll show you just how nasty we can get!" "You're already nasty!" she replied, still struggeling. Was this really how it all would end? Were all humans like this? Other than the rubbery captain and his two friends, they all had treated her like shit. Ever since she had been caught and dragged on land, it had gotten worse and worse. "Let's show her just how nasty we can get," one of them laughed. They were all grabbing her now. She screamed and kicked and bit one of them in the arm, but that only resulted in her getting slapped in the face. Neri screamed again when she was thrown onto the dirty ground like a piece of trash. Then someone was over her - and then he wasn't anymore.

"And just what are you going to show her?" another voice asked. It was the swordsman's voice and Neri breathed a sign of relief. At the same time she was wondering how he got here and why he was here. She had thought the navigator had understood that she had left for good. "How is that any of your business?" one of the guys sneered. "Let's knock this freak out", the second one said. "Ummm, have you looked at him? He's carrying three swords," the third one said, slowly stepping back. "So what?" The first one rolled his eyes. "He can only use one at a time anyway." Next thing they knew, all three of them were bleeding. Their bottles were on the ground. And the swordsman was holding two of his swords. "I can get the third one out, too," he said. The first guy looked like he thought it would be a good idea to get into a fight, but luckily, the other two started dragging him away. Neri hastily got onto her feet. She wanted to turn and run away too but her legs were shaking. "Next time I'll see you, I'll cut off your hands," the swordsman called after them. They weren't even looking back. He turned his attention towards Neri. "And what are you doing? Why aren't you on the ship?" "I was… leaving?" She thought that had been quite clear and besides, neither he and the navigator had been too impressed when their captain had invited her to join them. "Oh yeah? Well next time, you run that by Luffy first. He still thinks you're on the crew." She threw him a look. "I thought you're not a crew?" "Well, Luffy thinks we are… and for now, we have some common goals, so… didn't you say you want to reach the Grandline too?" Yes, she wanted to get to Fishman Island - maybe there she would finally be save again… "Yes, but… I'm just a random person your captain picked up on the street," she said. "I heard you talking. And I mean, you're not wrong…" He grimaced. "Yeah, well, I'm trying to prevent Luffy from adding every weirdo we come across to this so-called crew. If you prove yourself to not be a weirdo… you're welcome to join as long as you pull your weight on board." Not a weirdo… well, from a human perspective, she definitely was weird. But maybe, just maybe… she could hide that a little longer until they were on the Grandline at least?

Looking down the dirty and dark alley, she realized that she needed a place to stay and people to rely on. This wasn't her world. She had to rely on someone else, even if it was only temporary. "I'll try not to be burden," she replied. "I've never been at sea before." Well, on a boat, she silently added. The swordsman turned and started walking and she hurried along to keep up with him. "How did you find me, anyway?" she wanted to know. "I didn't," he replied. "I was actually trying to take a shortcut. The streets on this island are just really confusing." "Are they?" she wondered, following him out of the alley. There was, after all, only one main road leading from the harbor in the direction of the market. "Are they not?" He looked back at her. "I mean, I can't even see the ocean from here." She didn't know if she should giggle or not. For someone wielding three swords, he was surprisingly clueless when it came to directions. "That's because you're looking in the wrong direction," she said, deciding to surpress the giggles for now. "The ocean's over there." Irritated, he looked around. Yes, there was the ocean, and it wasn't even that far away. The deep blue color could clearly be spotted from where they were standing. "Like I said, it's confusing," he grumbled. Finally, he walked in the right direction and she followed him, slightly amused. And maybe… her new crewmates weren't that perfect either? So perhaps she wouldn't feel completely out of place all the time…

The ship came into view and it looked ready to sail. It was a small one and there had already been talk about getting a bigger one. Luffy, the captain, was waving at them. "There you are! Come on, let's go!" Quicky, they climbed on board. "I'm sorry," Neri said to Luffy, feeling she should at least say something to explain the delay. "I was just…" "Got everything sorted out?" Luffy asked her, grinning. "Well, then I guess we're all set. Let's get going!" "Set the sails!" the navigator shouted at them. And soon, they were out at sea, the island behind them getting smaller and smaller. In front of them, the ocean shimmered in the deepest blue, spreading far and wide before them. It was a marvelous sight and Neri, leaning over the railing, with the wind in her long hair, suddenly felt very calm and at peace with her situation for the first time since she had been captured. Maybe, just maybe, everything would turn out okay?

[tmntxthings]

Heart to Heart

author’s note: finally got around to this writing idea <3 thank you to everyone who commented/responded, I decided to make it a short multi part, maybe 3 in total who knows!

warnings: first meeting, female reader, foreshadowing, flashbacks, angst, fluff, cursing, cute meet? both pov’s

part two

—————————————————————————

You didn’t think you could keep on pretending any longer. Why had you let it get this far? Maybe you were falling back down the rabbit hole. You had thought you were smarter than this. Wiser. You’d been through too much already. Cheaters, gaslighters, manipulators, and most of all liars. You were done with liars. You swallowed as you took one last look in the mirror.

You couldn’t help yourself. When it came to him, you just, ended up dressing to the nines. You wanted to look good. You still wanted to impress him. Even though your plan today was to draw a line in the sand.

You and Leo first met on a rainy night in the dead of summer. The rain was such a sweet reprieve from the sweltering heat that had beat down on you that entire day. You had been working that day, your shift to bus the tables at Mike Toney’s Pizzeria. The a/c could hardly keep up with the weather and you were sweating underneath your clothes. Your shift lasted until 11:00 that night and as you called out your goodbyes to the boss you realized it was pouring.

You pressed on, stepping out of the doors underneath the tiny overhead covering. “Alright!! Just make it to the bus stop and you’re home free!!” You hyped yourself up, jumping slightly and throwing your hood on that you wore underneath your uniform. Looking back on it now, wearing a hoodie all day hadn’t been such a bad idea! You took off in the rain. The sidewalk wasn’t as slippery as you were expecting so you upped it a notch. All that was missing was some music, you’d kill for your airpods right about now! Like most days you had forgotten them on your nightstand.

Rainy night music, where you were the main character running through puddles on an all important mission: don’t miss the bus. Victory was yours as you skidded to a halt and sliding onto the bus bench that was thankfully covered. No bus in sight! You were taking in full gulps, trying to restock on some oxygen. You were so in the moment that you didn’t realize you weren’t alone on that bench. Dark green eyes was the first thing you noticed. He seemed just as soaked as you, blue jersey a bit darker from the rain pelting his shoulders. “Ahem!” You coughed realizing you were staring, and he was staring, and the two of you were staring!

You quickly whipped your head the other way, giving a side eye to see he had done the same. His hand going to his neck rubbing there for a moment before he side eyed you too! Immediately your eyes darted away, shit you were lacking tonight! It must be the lack of oxygen, you took in one last big gulp of air. “Were you being chased by a mut- something??” He asked aloud, you turned to see he wasn’t looking at you. He was staring out across the street, perhaps glancing to where you had ran from. “Ah well, the rain,” you said letting your hand rise and fall.

“Right, heh, right!” He nodded, chuckling to himself because he should’ve seen that one coming. “Were you being chased? Y’know by something?” You parroted back his question. And you just had to ask! He seemed surprised that you were partaking in the conversation. Maybe like he thought that would’ve been the end. So you were completely thrown when the stranger smirked and turned to you fully, “Why yes, yes I was chased here. I’m taking a quick break before they catch up to me!” He snickered to himself and it had to be some kind of private joke. He didn’t seem too worried about his so called pursuers though, so you smiled too.

“And here I thought you were just a regular bus rider like myself!” You took in his appearance again. There was something about him that made you want to keep the conversation going. “Far from regular, I’d put myself up there with the champions,” at this he was pointing a thumb towards the name on the back of his jersey. “Ham-ato?” You sounded out, it didn’t ring any bells but then again you weren’t a basketball fan. “Don’t know him? Agh for-shame! He’s the real deal.” He clutched his chest dramatically as if not knowing the name physically hurt him. His theatrics pulled another chuckle from you, “Yeah sorry not into hoops, though—“

“But have you ever played basketball before??” He interrupted you quickly. “Yeah when I was in like middle school. I had an okay arm, but I was better at volleyball!” This was what you had been going to say earlier. “Ooohh v-ball? I’ve heard of it, don’t think I’ve had the chance to rule at it yet.” This guy! You watched his smug face for a moment with a look of really? Did you just say that? First you could tell he had never played because no one called it v-ball. “That’s a crying shame, cause volleyball is where its at.” You shrugged. “Well well, got any courts around? Teach me the ropes and I’ll dominate!” It was so random. You’d never met anyone this excited before. Or perhaps this cocky either!

You gave him an incredulous look. “Uh” then you gestured down to the work uniform you were wearing. “Oh nice you work at Mikey Toney’s! My little brother’s favorite.” He nodded, totally missing the point. “Yeah and I just got off, there’s no way I’m playing a game in this.” He looked like he wanted to say chicken, but thankfully he held back. And no sooner had you declined the offer at hanging out with some random stranger on a rainy Thursday night, the bus finally pulled up. “Guess I’ll have to get those lessons another time then!” He said standing up, so did you. Your eyebrows came together, this guy sure is forward! This was New York afterall, the chances of seeing him again were slim to none.

“Sure! Next time it’s a deal!” You laughed shaking your head as you boarded the bus. Scanning your pass and taking a window seat near the back. You pulled down your hoodie, shaking your out hair slightly. Then you looked out the window and saw he was still out there, standing by the bench, still staring. You remembered his little icebreaker, how he had been chased there. He put a hand up, and though he was just a stranger that you had exchanged a few words with, your hand rose of it’s own accord. Waving goodbye. You watched as his figure disappeared from view, you turned facing the front. You sure were tired, it had been a long day. But spontaneous things like that, somehow made you feel lighter. You closed your eyes, thinking you never got his name.

You totally missed the three shadows running past the bus.

[ Leo’s pov. ]

When she had flung herself onto the bus bench he had been daydreaming. Leo blinked and his eyes were wide as he took her in. But he couldn’t seem to focus on anything other than your face. The dark blue hood was loose over your head. Wisps of your hair were sticking out and some pressed against your skin from the rain. You were dragging in air like your life depended on it. Which yeah duh it did. He had hardly blinked, soaking in a human who willingly sat next to him. Not bothered by it in the slightest.

So when you felt his stare, and then reciprocated, he was in a full on trance. Your eyes were even more interesting to look at. You didn’t just have one color, but a range of shades. He’d never seen such a thing up so close, without seeing disgust, without fear. (That is if you don’t count April, and in Leo’s defense she wears glasses so meh!) The sound of your cough had him snapping out of it, immediately he turned away. Shit! Smooth Leon, smooth! Humans don’t ogle. Just relax, and say something to break this god awful silence!

“Were you being chased by a mut- something??” Double shit! He almost said mutants! Fucking shit Leo, you are cracking like a egg. Get it together! Does she know already?! Am I doomed!?

“Ah well, the rain,” He felt the invisible weight on his shoulders release. Of course she doesn’t know. He wasn’t a mutant after all. No he was human now and he chuckled to himself. His hand going up to remind himself that he was wearing that necklace. And yep, underneath his jersey he felt the cloaking ‘brooch’ or now called chain. Donnie sure had some great ideas, and when they weren’t straight up failures, they sure could be fun! He couldn’t wait to go out in the daytime. This test run during the night, had been just what he needed. It worked exactly like Sunita’s! Now all Leo had to do was figure out how to throw off his brothers. “Were you being chased? Y’know by something?” It drew him out of his thoughts. Really he had thought the human wasn’t going to talk. He was used to one-sided conversations, especially with New Yorker strangers. Maybe he had just needed this handy dandy necklace!

Leo smirked, deciding to go with the truth for once. It’d be fun. Your reaction was bound to be entertaining. Plus he had a few more moments to spare. “Why yes, yes I was chased here. I’m taking a quick break before they catch up to me!” It was true. His brothers were probably a block or two away. He’d sat down just a few minutes before you did. Donnie sure did want his necklace back. ‘Leo it’s not ready’ ‘Leo you can’t do that’ ‘Leo stop touching it’ ‘Bla bla bla’ Leo almost rolled his eyes then and there remembering all Dee’s nagging.

The conversation continued again much to Leo’s surprise. You were responsive and your facial expression enthralled him. As long as you continued to give him attention he’d readily spout out nonsense. And he was given just the opportunity to not only say his favorite word: champion. But also show off his jersey. Hell yeah custom made. And he about flew out of his seat as he teased you for not knowing his last name. He was pretty sure no one in the Hamato Clan had ever been a basketball player. But it was still fun to see you try and rack your brain. Then you did the unspeakable. You weren’t into b-ball?!? -“but have you ever played basketball before??” He had to hold onto his poor heart. Which again it felt so much more squishy and soft than he was used to. So you had played, he found himself liking that fact about you. And it didn’t stop there, you knew of another sport, one he’d seen in passing, heard of, but never tried himself. Basketball was his one true love when it came to sports.

But if it came down to it, he’d try anything if it entailed a competition. And Leo figured the best way to try and compete with you would be on your own turf. “Well well, got any courts around? Teach me the ropes and I’ll dominate!” He had to refrain from flexing, it was almost so natural. It was how he goaded his siblings into such competition, but he held back. He watched as you gave him a loaded stare, to which you then waved down at your clothes. Mike Toney’s Pizzeria! “Oh nice you work at Mike Toney’s! My little brother’s favorite” Leo smiled but as he thought of Mikey he remembered the whole game of chase that was still underway. You explained to him further what you meant.

Ahhh, chicken! She doesn’t want to face the almighty sport champion! How’d she know?? Is my blue ninja turtle self shining through? Leo felt for the necklace one more time. “Guess I’ll have to get those lessons another time then!” The bus had perfect timing. He had to start booking it real soon and he’d rather not run off into the night with you still around. Though Leo had been having some fun chatting with you. Truly humans were so unpredictable! It was his last ditch effort, maybe he’d run into you again. He hadn’t expected you to make it a deal. So now he was hoping for the chance to see you again. He watched you leave. His first human interaction, (besides April..) his first stranger interaction, he amended. It felt like he had just always known April.

He was trying to remember your face as he raised his hand to wave. But it froze as he watched you pull your hood down, and in what felt like slow motion you ran your fingers through the tresses that had been hidden to him before. He swallowed, you sure had pretty hair. Or maybe you were just pretty. Yeah it was probably that. But why was he just noticing now as the bright lights from inside the bus faded. He watched the light reflect off your skin, dim, and then you became a shadow. He saw the outline of your hand raised, waving a goodbye as well before the taillights of the bus was all he could see. His hand lowered and he stood there blinking for a few dazed moments. Leo moved out from under the covered area, welcoming the rain as he smiled up at the dark sky. “What are the chances huh? Supreme Pizza you watching up there??” He was met with more rain, and no parting clouds to see an awe inspiring view of a full moon.

There was no moon out tonight. “LEO!” Donnie raged, and it was the only heads up he needed. He was running again, fiddling with the necklace clasp. He’d come up with some plan. Fake losing the necklace, act like he didn’t have it. And come sneak out once more, this time with more stealth! Hopefully Donnie hadn’t put some tracking device on this already, he’d have to find out. “Man Dee! You put a tracker doohickey on this one?? How ya finding me so fast?” Leo called over his shoulder and Donnie growled.

Flanking the rooftops on either side of the street were Mikey and Raph. So Donnie really did have everyone chasing after him! Maybe this could be a new team building exercise. “No Leo, not the necklace, but on you.”

“Now give me back my cloaking brooch!! NOW!!” Missiles were firing as Leo finally undid the necklace. It was a miracle he could do so while in a full on sprint. His true form shifted back into view and Leo clenched the chain in his left fist as he pulled out an odachi with his right, slashing for a portal and shooting a wink at his enraged twin. “Buhbyeee~~” he cackled. Watching as everyone lunged for the portal. He wondered how the turtle pile felt without him as they all fell short to the pavement.

[safely-in-vhagars-belly]

Pillars of salt, Pillars of sand: Dark!Aemond x oc, Aegonxoc

Chapter 15: The shadow of a sun mdni18+

🔷Summary: You are Rhaenyra and harwins daughter, Jace's twin sister. You dont expect when Floris, your best friend, writes you that she is sick, to find your uncle at Storm's end. He offers you a choice. Bend the knee to Aegon or see your brother be fed to his dragon. It is not a difficult choice to make. But as with difficult choices, the consequences are much harder to carry than the choice

🔷Author's note: DARK dead DOVE DO NOT EAT OK

Wordcount :3212 

Aemond’s pov.

I stand near the tavern, where Helaena and Maella are drinking. Judging by their giggles, hushed whispers, and delighted gasps, they are likely gossiping. I simply fold my hands on my back and watch as the soldiers that belong to the King surround the place, subtly as shadows sneaking around a lamp. ‘’Since when do they get along?’’ Aegon remarks, surprised by the young Queen and the Princess being friends. 

I suppose that the enemy of their enemy is my friend is true, after all. They might hate each other, or at least, were raised to hate one another. And now because they are both married to my useless brother, they have become something dangerous. I expected Maella to outshine Helaena at balls, receptions and gatherings. But I never expected them to ally with one another, to become friends. Never. 

It is dangerous. What if Helaena is turned over to their side? She never liked Aegon, I can’t even tell if she likes being Queen. She is as flicke as a flame and that can burn us. But if Helaena can be convinced, so can Maella. This might be good. We can show the Little strong lady that she has nothing to fear from us. As long as she complies and obeys, that is.

I still can’t believe it. They are as fire and ice. Helaena should know better, as the Queen. Maella is a good for nothing traitor and our prisoner. What does she hope to accomplish with drinking a few beers in a godforsaken tavern? ‘’I don’t know. I do think you should do something about this, Your Grace.’’ I say, after carefully choosing my words. 

Aegon’s shoulders slump with disappointment at my reminder and he looks to the stone tiles outside the tavern that cover the dirty ground. He took me to this tavern too, I remember. On my thirteenth name day. Before he would take me to the whores. Ser Arryk whispers to us that they have secured the property and I give a nod, confirming they can begin soon with securing the two ladies. ‘’You took a vow.’’ I remind my brother. ‘’If you are too weak to discipline your own wife-’’

I know I crossed a line when Aegon’s worryless glance becomes a hateful, deep festering glare forming a mirror. I see my own father looking back at me, in a way. Aegon smirks, mirroring my stance by also folding his hands on his back, advancing on me until I have no choice but to set a step back, submitting to him. ‘’You would like that, wouldn’t you, Aemond? Because if I can’t, you will do it.’’ He says, and yes it is the truth. There is an accusation there. One I’m not sure that I like.

I open my mouth, ready to defend myself and my honour as I hear a all to familiar scream, that sets my soul alight and hardens parts of my body much to my delight. Maella screams as she is carried to me and my brother, her eyes widened the moment she sees us standing near her. She takes a dramatic moment to scoff, and spits at our feet. Aegon shrugs as I jump out of the way, barely avoiding the spit hitting my boots. ‘’Discipline her.’’ I hiss, commanding my own king around.

She struggles as a wild tigress, attacking her pursuers as I simply watch her lash out, cuss, spit and yell, causing a scene well worthy of good punishment. ‘’You are disgusting animals! All of you! You fucking traitors! You would sell your own mother if it allowed you to suck Aegon’s little right toe!’’ Maella yells as she attacks a soldier, pulling his helmet off and grabbing him by the throat. I hide an amused chuckle. Aegon becomes increasingly frustrated as her scene continues, clearly tired, miserable and dreading what he must do now. 

Helaena watches, her eyes big and full of questions. ‘’Put her down! We did nothing wrong!’’ She tries to command the soldiers, but they are not her soldiers. They are Aegon’s. They won’t listen to her. ‘’Aegon, tell them to stop!’’ She is close to losing it. I remember it all too well from balls and gatherings we attended.

Maella laughs, still on the back of Arryk who tries to hold her as she kicks away at his back. I think Arryk has never been more thankful for his armour. ‘’He won’t. He’s a little craven boy, same as his brother. He is not cut out to be king. His mother knows it. His brother knows it too.’’ She briefly looks at me, and when she does I can’t help but lick my lips softly, imagining her taste. ‘’All except Aegon, for he knows nothing and never shall.’’ I need to hide my smirk for I agree with her all too much.

My brother sets one foot forward, and the brat finally stops fighting, accepting her fate. She knows what awaits her now. Helaena tries to interfere, so I capture her too, holding her gently but firmly by her waist so she shall not be harmed. ‘’Aemond! Let me go!’’ She begs. ‘’We can’t let Aegon hurt her.’’ Why not? She and her bastard brothers hurt me. Dozens of times over. If anything, Maella might learn obedience and respect for her betters with a good smack across her oh so pouty delicious face.

Helaena does not understand that so I explain it to her, as kindly as I can. ‘’He’s her king and her husband. She is the one who went too far.’’ Helaena stops fighting me and looks at me with a all too familiar emotion. Disgust. She easily escapes me, not looking back once. 

Aegon is close to hurting Maella, I can tell. But he needs a tiny push. And I know how to let Maella give him that. I search my pockets, and take out a familiar small box. I join Aegon, presenting the box to Maella as I open it. ‘’Did you know your brother pissed himself?’’ I smirk, recalling the moment I had Luc’s eyes cut out. ‘’I didn’t expect much better from a bastard, but it was disgusting how he relieved himself in front of the Baratheon family. He was begging me too, begging for me to stop, to have mercy, to be released.’’ I laugh, recalling the little scared face of little Luc as he sobbed at my feet, before I kicked him in his then empty bleeding eyeholes. Maella trembles with barely contained rage.

I bet she can show me so much of her innerfire, of her desire if only she allowed herself. I bet she can become the most beautiful obedient wife. If only Aegon didn’t marry her. I lean in closer. I smell her delicious scent and must fight all instincts to touch and smell her closer. Maella glares at both of us, but I know she must have one final push. A good one. So I open the box, show her Lucerys’s eyes and take them out, touching the small little balls as if it are mere diamonds. I chuckle, as she watches my every moment, her breath holds. I close the box with a snap, causing her to flinch. 

I take one step closer, and touch her face, gently caressing it as I stare into her eyes. ‘’It’s too bad your mother had a stillborn daughter. I would’ve loved to collect her eyes too.’’ Maella’s gaze shifts between me and Aegon. Her eyes express many emotions, despair, disbelief and finally…Guilt.

She knew, Rhaenyra was pregnant. And now she knows she is not anymore. Aegon shoots me a subtle glare, one of judgement and disgust as I watch Maella struggle with another challenge, another loss.

I smirk, whispering in her ear. ‘’Your mother’s pregnancy was fine, until she heard what had happened to you and Luc. I might have killed your brother, but you killed your sister. You caused that miscarriage and you are a Kinslayer.’’ I brush gently with my lips against her ear, kissing her forehead. ‘’You are the same as me-’’

Maella does not need long after that final push, that final confession and final straw. Aegon needs to push me out of the way of her claws, that are reaching to strangle something, anything. ‘’You bastard!’’ She yells, sobbing and in tears as she tries to strangle me, held back by guards as I walk back and forth, just within her grasp.

I shrug, causing more anger by the young princess. ‘’Only one of us is, little Lady Strong. I think you might need to rethink your loyalties. I doubt Rhaenyra will welcome you home now, that you killed her daughter, her true born Valyrian daughter with Daemon.’’ I rub some extra salt in the wounds, picking up insults and horrors wherever I go. Rhaenyra needed a heir, a pure born Valyrian child. And Maella will never be that. She will always be a Strong. She will never be good enough. And she knows this. And that is what will kill her. 

Maella kicks her guard, and rushes at me. She grabs me by my silver long hairs, dragging our faces closer as she tries to choke me. It is a foolish but admirable attempt. And one we just needed.

Aegon grabs her by the throat, strangles her briefly and smacks her across her face with his left hand, leaving a good, nice print on her face. Maella wails on the ground, glaring at us both. He approaches her again, and raises his feet too, preparing to give her a kick. ‘’My King?’’ Ser Arryk ruins this beautiful moment and I glare at him, annoyed he dared to speak in our presence at all.

Sadly, Aegon puts his feet back on the ground and ignores Maella as she cries helplessly. ‘’Put the Princess in the carriage. She can’t behave herself clearly. Bring her to my bedchamber after.’’ I feel my blood cool down after those words, and I can’t even smirk at Maella. 

Maella has stopped crying instantly at those words, her whole body shaking as Arryk grabs her and walks her to the carriage. ‘’Aegon! No! You can’t! I disgust you! You never liked me!’’ Her cries are muffled once she is put in the carriage. Aegon sighs, and for a moment the crown slips. He adjusts it right away. 

‘’So, brother.’’ I begin this terrible conversation. Because she should not be his. She is mine. I captured her, I can read her, I can trick her, deceive her, lie to her and kill her.

Aegon sighs, dramatically.  ‘’That should be enough to make her behave for one day. I don’t intend to actually lay with her.’’ I hear myself scoff. Of course not. Whyever would he do anything for his duties, for us? Ruining Maella, forcing her to have his child, it’s the best thing to do right now, the clever thing. And he won’t do it because Maella is not some blonde ugly whore.

I hate it. I hate him, I hate her, I hate the idea of them together, of them even breathing the same air. ‘’Whyever not? She is yours, brother. She is yours and for once in your life you are allowed to do what you enjoy doing.’’ I say, referring to the countless incidents.

Aegon does not meet my eye and his voice is soft as the wind as we prepare our horses. ‘’I don’t enjoy it.’’ He confesses. ‘’I never did. I just …’’

I wait ready to hear whatever explanation his sickening behaviour has.

Aegon sighs, rubbing his face. ‘’Father never saw me as his heir. Mother never saw me as anything but a problem. I guess that’s exactly who I became. An unworthy problematic heir.’’ I need to stop myself from laughing. Is he truly trying to push this all on that mother and father didn’t love him enough? That’s why he rapes?

‘’And the women?’’ I remark. ‘’How did they hate you, how did they wrong you? How did a simple kitchen maid or a servant girl hurt you, the Prince who surely they all looked up to?’’ I hear myself say the words and as soon as I say them I know. 

It’s not the love that was the issue. It’s the expectations. The expectations that he sets for himself, that the world and father set for him that he never met. And the servants were just unfortunately there at the wrong time and at the wrong place. Because there is no such thing viler than forcing yourself upon servants, people who you love. 

He becomes annoyed with me and my questions. ‘’I am done talking about this. If you want to talk about sexual things, I can ask you about why you fantasise about my wife and how you wanted to do similar things to her.’’ He’s right. And I hate that he is.

But Maella is not an innocent kitchen maid or servant who can’t defend herself.  ‘’Your wife is no innocent woman.’’ I say, with a smile as we get on the horses. ‘’You know she is a traitor and she must be eliminated so she cannot marry great houses. It’s why her virtue must be taken away.’’

I hear my brother laugh. I look at him. He shakes his head. ‘’And I used to think you were so much better than me. You are not. You might be worse.’’ After that he leaves for the Red Keep and I remain here with the carriage and the two unwanted Queens. And a lot of questions, and thoughts.

Maella is crying still as I enter the carriage. She glares at me through her tears. I smirk, sitting next to her. She instantly decides to sit somewhere else, as far away from me as possible. I think back of her offer, where she begged me to save her and to take her to her sweet mother. She is truly a naive girl who has no idea how the world truly works. ‘’You know, you only did this to yourself.’’ I say. ‘’By choosing the traitor queen, you became a traitor.’’

Maella does not see reason.

‘’She is crowned.’’ So is Aegon. ‘’I suppose you will enjoy tonight?’’ She can barely talk without sobbing. She could not be further from the truth. 

I shake my head. ‘’No, I won’t. I still firmly believe you should be with me.’’ I inform her as she rolls her eyes. ‘’As I am the-’’

She interrupts me. ‘’The one who captured me, yes.’’ She finishes with an annoyed sigh. ‘’Honestly, Uncle, it has gotten boring to hear you boast about your own pathetic accomplishments. You killed a little innocent boy and captured an innocent woman. Is that truly something to be proud of?’’

In one moment she is pushed against the walls of the carriage, my hands wrapped around her throat as I choke lightly, just to scare her. Perhaps to feel control over her life, over her body. ‘’He. Was. not. Innocent.’’ I hiss, warning her of my temper. ‘’He took my eye, had your mother done her task and disciplined him, I would have had peace with it!’’ I shout at her face as she flinches with fear and worry. She looks like she wants to call for the guards. She looks like she might bite me. As if she can laugh or cry any given moment. I wait for her to defend that bastard pup to ramble on how he was just a child. I wait for any of it.

Maella only slowly touches my hair, feeling it glide through her fingers. Her eyes sparkle with tears as she softly chuckles. ‘’I sometimes wonder what would have happened, had Grandsire married us. Would we have hated each other as much as we do now?’’ I am taken back by her movements and keep watching her carefully as she continues to touch my hair. ‘’Would Luc be alive? Would there be peace?’’ She wonders out loud, her hands finally end by my face, and her fingers touch my scars as I flinch slightly. Yet I do not pull away. There would not be peace. There would be hatred just the same. I know it. But my weak heart allows itself to be caught up in her sickening twisted fantasies of something I shall never acquire: A happy life. ‘’You are my brother’s.’’ I say, firmly. ‘’You must learn to obey his wishes and his word or there might be more.’’ I caress where Aegon struck her, warning her. ‘’He is kind now, but once he tires of you-’’ My words are interrupted as Maella places her lips against my own, and softly gasps, kissing me. Her hands touch my knees and I feel them at the same time on the back of my head, removing my eyepatch as she climbs on my lap, her eyes shimmering with tears. ‘’Why?’’ I whisper. ‘’You hate me.’’ I don’t understand it. Yet Maella continues to kiss me and to touch me in ways I only dreamt of. I should be happy, welcoming this opportunity. But I am not, and I do not welcome it. I pretend to be aboard, kissing her back. 

Maella allows herself to touch me, running her fingers over my crotch as I slip with my greedy fingers under her dress, touching and feeling her breasts and nipples, discovering her body. She shifts on the bench of the carriage, allowing me to top her properly. I remain standing as is proper, but she sweeps my legs and forces me atop of her. She lowers her eyes, touching my face gently. ‘’I told you before: We can run away together. Mother will reward you. You will become a hero.’’ She whispers and kisses me. I don’t kiss her back. I feel validated. I feel attacked, wronged, disgusted. I slap her hands off my crotch, and yank her head up by her hair so we can meet eye to eye. I see hope in her eyes. And I see it die when I scowl at her. ‘’You will lay with Aegon and no one else. You will carry his seed and your womb will quicken and you will push his child out.’’ I hiss as I push her against the walls of the carriage. Maella whimpers hurt at my rejection. I don’t care.

I slam the carriage door behind me and I don’t pay her any mind anymore. She can weep, scream and whimper all she likes: I will not betray my family. I get on my horse and sigh deeply. I imagine Aegon will enjoy himself. He will enjoy having her. I would've enjoyed having her. But at what cost? I know what she wants. She wants to go home. She does not care if she has to fuck the man who killed her brother to do it.

And my brother does not care either. He will always be unworthy of the throne. He will always avoid duty, and sacrfice. He will always be the weakest of us two. And me? I will always be doomed to remain in his shadow, the shadow of a sun.

OOP ITS A UPDATE xD

[erisenyo]

For the angsty prompts: "shit are you bleeding" and katoph

My first time writing this ship and my second time with a Katara POV, hopefully I do it justice!

--

Katara doesn’t know if she’s ever felt like this before—doesn’t know if she’s ever been able to feel like this before, has ever had this permission to let go.

Laughter and exhilaration high in her throat as she spins into an alley with Toph, bubbling up against her lips as they try to hush themselves, muffling giggles against each other’s hands and shoulders.

Adrenaline thrilling in her veins but bright, easy, no death-defying stakes or world-ending battles as they run from angry scammers and lose themselves between crowded market stalls.

Toph’s hand around her wrist and against her own and reaching, always reaching, right for where Katara is, like she always knows exactly where Katara will be, which she does, but there’s something about the way Toph does it, not expecting her to be there or wanting her to be there or needing her to be there but just knowing exactly where she already is…

“Come on,” Toph orders as they dash away from her latest pretend-fall, reaching out—there, there, right there—to tug Katara into a barely-visible alley, both of them holding their breath as their pursuers approach and then falling into giggles after they dash by, Katara feeling so strangely boundless, letting her worries and concerns go for a day, feeling strangely light, with Toph’s unbridled laughter so close, seeing the happy shape it makes of her face, the way it takes her usual confidence and brashness and transforms it into something captivating, something Katara’s chest aches to feel for herself, something—

“Shit, you’re bleeding!” Katara exclaims, catching the trickle of red against the skin of Toph’s forearm and immediately reaching for her wrist, gently turning her arm to see a gravel-burned scrape across her elbow.

“It’s nothing,” Toph scoffs, rolling her eyes. But she doesn’t pull away or push Katara off, doesn’t say anything at all as Katara tuts over it and reaches for her water, just twitches a little at the cool brush of it against her skin and Katara isn’t sure when she’s does why her brisk, bright, “There, all better,” comes out more hushed, whispered, except that she suddenly feels like she doesn’t have the breath for anything stronger than that as something rises in her chest, something big and familiar and—

“Your heart is going crazy all of a sudden, Sweetness,” Toph grins, the nickname for the first time sounding affectionate, the smirk accompanying it putting Katara abruptly in mind of Jet. But only briefly, because thoughts of Jet and anyone else blow right out of Katara’s mind as Toph suddenly grabs her hand and tugs her back out of the alley, her skin warm and calloused and her grip strong and bold and Katara suddenly finds she can’t do anything but hold back the same way, confident and brash, can’t do anything but bare her teeth back in answer to Toph’s approving, sharp grin, can’t do anything but feel bright, bright, bright in the afternoon sunlight, light like she never has before.

[the-bar-sinister]

Imagine sneaking up behind your F/O, grabbing their hips or waist and pulling them to you. As they gasp in surprise, you nuzzle against them and plant kisses on the back of their neck.

[writingquestionsanswered]

Hi any advice on how to write a chase scene ? My MC is being chased thru an abandoned junkyard by a gang and uses the junk around to stall them/hide but I’m having such a hard time writing it in a way it’s well paced and interesting to read , so any help is appreciated thank you

Tips for Writing a Foot Chase Scene

1 - Use Sensory Description to Give Reader a Sense of Place, Situation, and Emotional Impact - If your scene is light on sensory details, the reader doesn't have a good sense of what's happening, where it's happening, and what impact it has on the POV character. That said, it helps to write the scene with the following questions in mind:

-- What can the POV character see? -- What can they hear? -- What can they smell? -- What can they taste? -- What can they physically feel/are they physically feeling? -- How do they mentally feel?

Sight Details: landscape (notable features of the surrounding area), architecture (notable details of surrounding structures), floor plan/layout (what the route looks like), obstacles (dead ends, cliffs, fences, walls to climb, others trying to stop them), pursuers (who is pursuing them, how close/far away they are, what they're doing as they try to catch them), witnesses (what observers are doing/saying)

Sound Details: sounds of the surroundings (traffic, crowd noise, machinery, weather, waterfall, forest sounds), sounds of the pursuers (footsteps, shouting, weapon discharge), obstacle related sounds (breaking through a door, the rattling of a chain link fence as it's scaled, a metallic thump as the character jumps onto a tin roof), sounds of exertion or relief (panting, heavy breaths, grunts and groans, screams, blowing out a breath of relief)

Smell Details: smells of the surroundings (food in a marketplace, smoke in a building on fire, oil and chemicals in a factory, wet soil in a forest), smells from pursuer's weapons, smells of exertion (sweat, body odor, blood from injuries sustained during pursuit)

Taste Details: salty sea air, salt of sweat, copper taste of blood, dust from running through a dusty room, dirt from a fall during chase, tasting bile in throat from fear

Physical Details: textures like hard floor, feet squelching through mud, or running through a sticky cobweb. Temperature like feeling hot from running or from running through a hot location, like a boiler room. Physical sensations like feet hurting and heart pounding from exertion, blood rushing in ears or chill running down spine from fear

Emotional Details: running faster with determination to get away, falling to ground exhausted and feeling hopeless, fearful thoughts of what will happen if caught, joy and relief of getting away

2 - Maintain tension by making outcome uncertain until the end of the scene. In order for a chase scene to work, you need to make the reader believe the character being pursued is actually in danger of being caught. If they always seem to be well ahead of the pursuer, can easily find good hiding places, and has no close calls with being caught, the reader will never be worried and the scene will fall flat. So, make sure they're ahead, but just barely. Work in some close calls, where they're discovered in their hiding place and barely get away. Or maybe they get caught but manage to break free. Send them down alleys with dead ends where they dart through an unlocked door at the last second. Have the pursuer right on their tail until they are able to disappear into a busy crowd. Watch some foot chase scenes on YouTube to get some ideas for ways to create tension.

3 - Avoid the temptation to drag it out. Chase scenes can be fun to write and they can offer a lot of interesting possibilities, but it's important not to drag them out too long. You don't want a chase scene to end too quickly, because there's not enough time to build up tension and emotional impact, but you also don't want the reader to get chase scene fatigue. How long is too long depends on everything from your genre to the situation, so there's no real metric for measuring it. However, if you've given the reader a few "edge of their seat" moments, where they're not sure the character is going to make it much further, and a few tense gasps during close calls, you've probably got the makings of a good chase scene. With every additional "minute" or "leg" of the chase, you can ask yourself whether or not it is accomplishing anything that hasn't already been accomplished at least a couple times. That can give you a sense of whether you're just dragging things out at that point.

Happy writing!

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

I’ve been writing seriously for over 30 years and love to share what I’ve learned. Have a writing question? My inbox is always open!

♦ Questions that violate my ask policies will be deleted! ♦ Please see my master list of top posts before asking ♦ Learn more about WQA here

[oneeyedoctogod]

Here late, but better late than never! For this WIP Wednesday, since the poll ended with a majority for me sharing my original writing as well (thank you everyone who voted!), have a little of an old(ish) WIP of mine where I wanted to experiment with second person POV. This isn't quite the beginning, but almost (although I should rework it probably. Starting with a dream is quite cliche :P)

--

You wake up.

You gasp, eyes blurry from tears — or is it sweat? You can’t tell, but it feels disgusting, like it always does after one of those nightmares. You rub your eyes, then keep your face buried in your hands, feel a sob stuck in your throat block your breathing. You try to force it out and cough, swallow back bile. You hate waking up. You want to run, like you did back then. But you’re stuck in your bedroll, having twisted it all around you before going to sleep because you knew how you’d react if you had a bad dream.

You’ve been having them for a while after all.

You force yourself to count your breaths, to calm yourself down. To come back to reality. Put your hands down in your lap and open your eyes.

(one, inhale)

You see your camp in front of you. The dying embers from your fire, the rest of your dinner scattered carelessly around it. Your backpack is right beside you, in case you need to leave quickly (in case your pursuers catch up to you). The river isn’t far and you itch to go wash your face but first — first this. The sky is still dark, although you can’t see the moon anymore. Your hands are clenched in your bedroll.

(two, exhale)

You force your hands to relax, to touch first the rough texture of the bedroll, then the soft grass around it. You blindly move them around, eyes staring at the sky, and feel something cold and hard — a rock. No wonder your back hurts, then. Then, slowly, you raise them to bring them to your face once again, rub your eyes once more. Carefully this time. Purposefully. Your skin feels hot to the touch, and wet.

(three, inhale)

Your breathing is loud to your ears, too loud. An owl hoots not far away from you, makes you jump. The flow of the river is quiet, but you still manage to hear it.

(four, exhale)

The smell of the fire is still strong, even with only a few embers still alight. You’ll have to be careful when erasing your traces, to make sure no one can still smell it once you leave. Under the sharp smell of the embers is the scent of coming rain, the humidity in the air almost stifling. It will help mask your presence. Slowly, the tension from the nightmare fades, replaced by the one from being on alert.

(five, inhale)

Your tears taste salty, covering the bitterness of the bile you swallowed earlier. You blink, and more of them fall from your eyes. You can’t stop yet. You have to remember first. Sometimes, it feels as if you’re still stuck in a nightmare. As if you never left that house.

(six, exhale)

Your name is Altair. You are… eighteen? Probably. Maybe nineteen. You let out a bitter chuckle. You have been on the run for more than half of your life now.

(seven, inhale)

Your family is dead. You relive their death every night, sometimes more than once. A mob killed your mother, father and siblings. You managed to run, helped by the only friend you had left in your village.

(eight, exhale)

You ran to your grandmother’s house. Both of you left the same night, to settle somewhere else, in another village where no one knew you, where no one could suspect what you were. You got a few years of relative peace. But you weren’t far enough.

(nine, inhale)

Your new village heard about you — about the young fugitive who escaped from the Inquisition. You don’t know who told them, how the rumors reached them. They went after you once more. Your grandmother tried to stop them. She used forbidden magic, and so they burned her.

She cursed them in return though, her last revenge, her last protection. You heard her that night, and as far as you know, that village is now haunted by so many restless spirits it had to be abandoned. It feels like not enough.

You were twelve.

And now here you are, on the run since then.

(ten, exhale)

You close your eyes on the last exhale. That last nightmare — there was something different about it. Something… other. A voice, perhaps? You want to remember it, but no matter how hard you try, it slips through your fingers, like trying to catch mist.

[uwukillmenowowo]

𝐅𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐓𝐚𝐦𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐨 𝐆𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐥 [Tokyo Debunker X F!Reader]

[ 9 | Hera's Snakes] 『🐍』

Key's for the story: Insert - Narrative - And then she stared at her reflection in the mirror [Insert] - Author speaking - [Eyyy there- wazzup readers] "Insert" - Talking - "Hey there!" [But can also be air quotes] 'Insert' - Thinking - 'Dame he's cute...' "Insert" - Whispering - "I- I messed up..." [But can also be an emphasis on a word/phrase, or flashback] (Insert) - Inner mind..? - (Deadass doesn't know how to explain it here) *Insert* - Action - *Sighs with their head down*[INSERT] - Magic - [OFF WITH YOUR HEAD!] or [IGGNAIM!]

𝐏𝐫𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐨𝐮𝐬 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫: [ 8 | Stalker] 『👀』

━━━✦❘༻🔮༺❘✦━━━

[Book 0] The Academy of Ghouls

[Chapter 9] The Anomaly Known As Hera's Snakes.

━━━✦❘༻🔮༺❘✦━━━

{Third POV}

~~~~~

Hm? I don't recognize you. Who are you?" Romeo asked, still pointing his rifle at the pair. "So you're Kaito's jealous pursuer." Luca asked, still under the impression that Kaito actually did have a romantic rival. "Excuse me? What part of this mushroom head could I possible be jealous of?" Romeo asked sternly. "Mushroom Head? Is that your nickname, Kaito?" Luca asked innocently.

"Of course not, he's just being an asshole! Come on, get rid of him!"  Luca hummed. "Let me confirm something first. This is your jealous pursuer, correct?" "Yes... I mean... Well..." In return to Kaito's bad lie, Romeo tisked. "That's the backstory you gave me? Is your financial situation so dire you can't come up with plausible lies?" Kaito flinched and stepped back. "What does he mean?" Luca asked.

"Do you really think I, Romeo Scorpius Lucci. Could be jealous of an off-brand man like him? *Hmph* This little toadstool is in my debt. I'm merely collecting what I'm rightfully owed." Romeo then took out a piece of paper and smirked. "Care to see the paperwork?" He mocked Kaito. In return, Kaito ran towards Romeo, desperate to grab the paper. "GIMME THAT!!" He exclaimed, only for Romeo to hold it higher than he can reach.

"Kaito, is this true?" Luca asked. Kaito sweat dropped and was about to answer, but then Romeo grabbed onto a pendent that Kaito was wearing. "How many times do I have to tell you? If you can't pay just hand over this pendant instead!!" "How many times have I gotta tell you, this is the one thing you'll never get from me!!" Kaito yelled before Luca decided to step in, "Let him go."

Romeo and Kaito turned to the transfer student. "Who the hell are you? Did you hear what I just said?" Then, Luca held up a large amount of cash. "Will this suffice?" He asked. Romeo smirked and let go of Kaito, in favor of the cash presented. "50 pound notes, hm? Interesting. They'd better not be counterfeit." Romeo took the money smirking and started counting. "one, two, three, four, five... twenty... the real deal." "Are you serious..?" Kaito asked, jaw wide open.

"You're quite a high-end man. He still owes another 2000 pounds of interest though. Sorry, but this won't buy his freedom." Romeo taunted and tilted Luca's chin up with his index finger. "WHAT?! You never said anything about interest!!" Kaito exclaimed. So Luca's gaze hardened and decided to challenge the claim. "All right. In that case... I'd like another look at that document."

Romeo's smirk fell and he tisked and glared at Luca. "There's nothing worse than a man with a brain..."

{Your POV}

~~~~~

"The ticket gate is closed???" I questioned aloud. I stopped short just before the Galaxy Express platform, unsure of how to get through the gate. A translucent wall with glowing letters blocked my path. "Tap Catsmo?" I read and groaned. "If I had to guess, it'd be an online TTC pass like Presto..." "Meow?!" I flinched and looked down, and screamed a little when a cat appeared out of nowhere. "Meow! meow!" The cat exclaimed and ran off. "Ah! Wait!" When I locked eyed with the cat, it meowed loudly and scampered off towards the main building."

"Oh sugar... Can these cats tell the chancellor where I am?!" Judging by what I'd seen them achieve so far, I could only assume they could... "I've already come this far... there's no turning back now!" I took out my wand and took in a deep breath. "White to red, and red to white. [Doodle Suit!]"

The gate turned into golden particles for a few seconds but as soon as I passed through I couldn't progress any further. "W-What?!" I tried to use doodle suit again but it didn't work. Then a shrill alarm sounded from the platform.

I heard footsteps approaching faster so I gasped and canceled doodle suit of the ticket gate and hid my wand. The alarm stopped and I sighed. "What are you doing?" I yelped and turned around to see Romeo there. Along with Kaito and Luca. "Are you all right?! Is the anomaly here?!" "Eeeeek... Oh god, please let it not be..." I held my hands up in surrender. "I'm sorry, I didn't know how to get onto the platform..."

Romeo glared at me and I reminisced the Savanaclaw situation all over again. "I knew it. What are you doing? Why are you wearing Hera's Snakes?" I blinked twice and calm down. "What..? Hera's Snakes?" 'The anomaly?' I couldn't make sense of that sentence, so I just stood there, dumbstruck. "Hera's Snakes..? That's the name of the rogue anomaly!" Luca pointed out and I nodded slowly. "Well, well, well," 'I don't like the smile on Romeo's face...' I thought and sweatdropped. "I didn't think it would come to me. I'll get a good price for this."

All of a sudden Romeo charged at me, rifle in hand. "You can pay back Fuji's interest WITH THIS!" I was about to pull out my wand to use Sleepy kiss but for some reason, the veil started attacking?!? "Eh?!" I cried out and stood still while Romeo dodged.

"GYAAAAAAHHH!!! WHAT THE HELL IS THAT?! ARE THOSE TENTACLES?! GROSS!!" Kaito exclaimed while Romeo pointed his rifle. "Did you... aim for my face?" I flinched and immidietly shook my head. "N-N-no! This veil just attacked on it's own I swe-" "SHUT YOUR MOUTH! I CAN'T STAND EXCUSES! SIH!!" Romeo aimed his rifle and this time I grabbed my wand. But as I was about to cast my spell, Luca interrupted, "[IGGNAIM!]" I gasped because Luca was standing in front of me, arms spread wide.

"What..? The trajectory was accurate, the bullet should have hit... Fine. There's more where that came from!" Another gunshot exploded in my ears but... "What..? Why are my bullets disappearing?!" I furrowed my brows and bit my lip. 'Luca... he's using his special skill." I awed. 'This was nothing like the spells in Twisted Wonderland. The only thing close was Floyd's Bind to the Heart.' 

The bullet was clearly heading straight towards us. But the instant before it hit Luca, it vanished, as though swallowed by some invisible force. Luca then turned around and grabbed my shoulders harshly so I winced. "I'll ask you just once. Did you deceive us?" His sharp, crystal-clear gaze bore into me so I answered honestly. "I'm sorry... But I just picked this veil up by coincidence, I swear..."

'I should have been honest with them sooner... I can't keep wearing something this dangerous even if it means they find out who I am...' I thought and grabbed the veil with both hands and pulled. "... H-Huh?!" I started to panic as I pulled harder. "I-I can't get it off!" Luca gasped and back off. No matter how hard I pulled at it, the veil remained stuck fast to my head. "It's stuck... why won't it come off?!" I questioned myself as I pulled even harder.

"All right. Calm down. I believe you." I looked at Luca with wide eyes. "Luca..." "We need to move away from here first. Then we can do something about that veil." Luca reached out his hand to me, and I placed my trembling palm in his unwavering one. "Thank you." I smiled softly.

"Hey! Are you trying to run?! Hand over Hera's Snakes fi-" "LUCAAAAA!!! HEY!! Why are you holding hands with [Y/n]!?!" I bit my lip as Kaito pushed Romeo out of the way and ran over to us. "Don't you dare run off without me!!! I'M!! HER KNIGHT!! IN SHINING ARMOR!!!!" "Kaito?!" I exclaimed, blushing in embarrassment. "Kaito! I want to go somewhere we can regroup and discuss out next move. Could you lead us there?"

"I was going to! Don't order me around! Follow me, [Y/n]!" Kaito proclaimed and started running so we followed.

But while we ran I looked back at Romeo, feeling a bit bad. "Ouch... Hey!! You think you can escape me that easily?!" But then I turned back. Kaito grabbed my other hand, and the three of us ran back the way we'd come.

"Meow! Meow! Meow! Emergency, emergency. A-6622-1,code name "Hera's Snakes", has escaped containment during transportation. It resembles a black veil. It is aggressive, and can change it's size at will. Presumptive class B. If spotted, please alert a staff member or ghoul student immediately."

𝐍𝐞𝐱𝐭 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫: [ 10 | A Ring?] 『💍』

[triskhellion]

Perhaps

Rated: Explicit (7.3k)

Relationship: Peter Hale/Stiles Stilinski

Characters: Stiles Stilinski, Peter Hale

Tags: POV Stiles, Human Stiles, Left Hand Peter, Graphic Violence, Alternate Universe, Strangers to Lovers, Getting Together, Gratuitous Endearments, Versatile Stiles/Peter, Explicit Sexual Content, Dirty Talk, Rough Sex, Knotting, Mating Bites, Dubious Consent, Uninformed Consent, Little to no prior discussion of a lot of things lmao, Assholes in Love, Morally Ambiguous Stiles/Peter, Murder Husbands, Song Lyrics, Happy Ending

Summary: Stiles and Peter run into each other when attempting to kill the same people. They get together and go a-murderin'.

For @steterweek 2023. Many prompts, lol.

Mead Moons prompts: 21, Claiming, Fae, Herbs, & Rose. @sterek-and-stuff-events

He drove for hours to get to the target, turning the knob between radio stations in the old, throwaway car he bought in cash for one trip only. His gloved fingers paused when the fist-pumping rhythm, scorching guitar, and sneering growl of “Rebel Yell” came blaring out of the speakers and he put his hand back on the steering wheel, drumming along and shimmying his shoulders. They must’ve been playing alternating sets because the next two tracks were Billy Idol too.

Grinning and even more hyped he arrived at his destination after nightfall, a tiny community on the Northern California coast called Albion. He made the final approach to an isolated McMansion on the outskirts, its resident reclusive and paranoid. Too paranoid to trust others with his security, apparently, relying only on his guard dogs and technology. 

Not paranoid enough, he thought, smirking. After parking the car out of view he climbed out and took off his black hoodie, strapped on a bulletproof vest, and then put it back on again, zipping it up high. This was his tactical hoodie, it had several custom compartments, including a passthrough pocket for his handgun and a sheath on the back for his bat.

Stiles tranq’d the quartet of Dobermans from afar with night vision goggles and dropped the dart gun to be collected later or left behind as circumstances permitted. It wouldn’t led back to him. He slipped inside with a hacked door code, the gentle beeping hopefully not yet alerting his quarry. Carefully, he made his way through the house, avoiding or disengaging a series of booby traps that he used the man’s own surveillance cameras to memorize.

He was almost to the wing with the sleeping quarters when suddenly an alarm that sounded like the apocalypse itself started going off. What the entire fuck? He knew he hadn’t messed anything up. Moments later it blessedly cut off again, but then he heard a roar of pain behind him as he sprinted down the hall and realized that he wasn’t the only one breaking in tonight. Of all the dumb fucking luck.  

Stiles turned and saw a man rushing toward him, shouting, and he sped up. The guy moved unnaturally fast and gave the distinct impression of wanting to rip him apart. Yeah no, buddy. 

He jumped a trip wire and then threw himself to the right, ducking under another sensor. From the sounds of gunfire behind him his pursuer hadn’t bothered to pay attention to his maneuvers, but must’ve been one lucky son-of-a-bitch because the footsteps kept coming, if somewhat slower. 

Reaching the end of the hall, Stiles quickly triggered a thick metal door to descend, which slammed down between them before the mystery mission-crasher could get through. There was a narrow strip of some transparent bulletproof material in the otherwise solid steel door and he met the shadowed eyes of the man cursing him on the other side, an odd reflection making them seem bright blue for a moment. Seconds passed entranced as they stared, but then he shook himself out of it.

“Sorry, my guy. This is my party and you weren’t invited.” 

There was an answering thud near his head and more muffled cursing and noises of frustration.

“If you let him get away I’m going to tear your throat out,” the man threatened. See? He knew the guy was a ripper.

Stiles scoffed. “You’re the one who fucked this up, asshole.” He turned away muttering, “Goddamn Leroy Jenkins over here.”

Luckily, he always had a backup plan, in this case the code to the panic room as well. That’s what too many simulations and drills would get you. 

Humming softly, he withdrew his gun and prepared to go inside. Here she comes now, sayin’ Mony Mony. Shoot ‘em down, turn around, come on Mony. 

When their eyes met again over what was now a mangled corpse it was…something at first sight. Well, technically, it was like, third sight, but this was his first time actually getting a good look at the guy. And vice versa from the way those light colored eyes were currently tracking up and down his body. 

The man was older, but not yet middle-aged — perhaps 35 or so — and had impeccable style. Upscale business casual threads in blues and grays with a belt and shoes in an orange-brown for color. Stiles had no penchant for it himself, but could appreciate it all the same. He noted some red leaking through the navy blazer. The man didn’t seem concerned though, so it must’ve been a graze. 

Stiles straightened up and wiped the blood spatter from his face. The mark had gotten off a couple shots, one going wide and the other embedding in the side of his vest. He’d shot the man’s right arm, causing the revolver to fall to the floor, and followed up with another one high on his leg. Then it’d been bat time. 

This was personal, after all. The motherfucker — a former deputy — almost killed his father. Did kill innocent bystanders. Heather.  He gave the piece of shit a last kick to the head and flipped him over.

“Darling, you look so good in red,” the man purred.

If it were anyone else Stiles would’ve hefted his still dripping bat in warning, but instead he found himself grinning like an idiot and felt himself flush more than from his recent exertion.

“I bet you say that to all the boys,” he said, cleaning his favorite weapon on the back of the dead man’s shirt before pulling out a bag from his hoodie, wrapping it up, and sliding it back in its sheath. 

Then he unlocked a second door and backed away into the night, not taking his eyes off the man watching his every move until he had to disarm another trap in the side yard. 

The next time they met he’d been the one to arrive to a murder in progress. And how. Stiles had seen a lot in his 21 years — especially the last two or so spent ever further outside of the law — but he never expected to come face to face with a hulking beast with wicked claws and ginormous fangs in a freaky, furry face. Furry everything.

He stood there stunned for several moments, gun pointed at the creature, but not firing as it finished off the lowlife he came to kill. It was disgusting, but impressive.

When it was done the beast looked at him, but made no move to attack. Then it started to change, the sight of flesh rippling and the sound of bones reforming quite disturbing really. Lastly, he watched as the fur receded and it became a man, the man, that he encountered when he took care of Haigh. 

The man he couldn’t stop thinking about and kicked himself for not getting any information that he could’ve used to track him down. To find out more about him. Who he was and what he was about. If he’d liked to get naked sometime. 

Speaking of which, he hadn’t really noticed before what with the very distracting eviscerating going on, but most of the beast man’s clothes had torn in his prior transformation, only scrapes of pants hiding his junk almost like a pair of extra ripped Daisy Dukes. Stiles had no qualms about checking him out and was tickled when he preened and set a hand on his hip.

“So we meet again, sweetheart. Like what you see?”

Always with the endearments, this guy. Monster guy. Werewolf, he supposed. It was obvious that he did like it, but that didn’t mean he was going to say so out loud. Stiles raised an eyebrow and changed the subject.

“Should we be comparing lists or something?” 

There was an amused snort. “Perhaps.” 

They stood around awkwardly for a few moments and then Stiles went to get a closer look at the thoroughly shredded Body Formerly Known As Todd.

“You’re not going to ask?” the werewolf blurted.

There was surprise and incredulity in his voice. And was that a hint of disappointment? Stiles bet he had a whole spiel prepared. He smirked.

“About what? You’re a guy who turns into a wolf-bear creature. And? Do you have another trick up your sleeve? Some fascinating hobby?” 

The werewolf erupted into a full-body laugh, mouth open and eyes sparkling — Stiles was close enough now to see that they were blue — and he was pleased to elicit such a response. He wanted to hear that sound again. 

“Eh, that’s about it unless you consider my day job interesting?” 

“Which is…?” 

“I’m a rather sought after lawyer.”

“Not in the slightest,” Stiles replied, grinning.

“Ouch, you wound me. I bet you’ll change your tune when you need my help getting out of jail and a long prison sentence.” 

“Pbbt, your furry ass will be right there beside me the way things are going.” Which brought him back to the subject at hand. Or foot. “So about that list. Why were you after the likes of this scumbag?” He nudged the body with his shoe.

He listened as werewolf explained that Todd here had been working with a group of Hunters — how original — that attacked supernatural creatures even when they’d done nothing wrong. A group that had killed several members of his family, only himself and his nieces and nephew surviving. That Haigh had helped to cover it up before moving and joining the force in Beacon Hills, where he took part — both directly and indirectly — in the deaths of multiple supernaturals and humans alike. 

Stiles then he gave his own reasons for going after the same targets. His father’s near death and the indiscriminate killing of his childhood friend Heather and other folks who were just in the wrong place at the wrong time. Stiles studied the man in front of him (he was definitely a man regardless of whatever else he was) and mentioned a few more names he was hoping to cross off, observing a reaction to one of them.

“Well, it sounds like a bunch of your enemies are my enemies.”

“Does that make us friends?” the werewolf asked, words laden with seductive promise. 

Stiles put his right hand out flat and rotated his forearm back and forth. “Perhaps.” He winked and retrieved his latest burner phone.

They decided to meet up a few hours later about a 100 miles away at a brewpub in Santa Rosa. Stiles was more nervous on the drive there than he’d been when going a-murdering. At least after the first few times. He slid into a private booth where the werewolf waited upstairs, quiet enough to hear each other easily, but loud enough in the establishment to drown out their conversation. 

He might’ve had a bit (a lot) more to drink than he intended, feeling all kinds of things in the presence of the attractive, deadly, supposed-to-be-mythological man who flirted like innuendos were the gas pedal in Speed. Stiles was amused. Conflicted. Aroused. Reckless.

He remembered flashes of what followed after they settled on a joint course of action. The hawk-eyed stare as he suggestively ate various vaguely phallic finger foods. Stumbling on the steps outside. A hand reaching into his pocket and being buckled into a different car than he arrived in. Asking if the werewolf knew how unfair it was that he was “just so fucking hot” and singing that he wanted to, quote unquote, “Lick lick lick lick you from your head to your toes.”

Being guided through the door of his motel room and onto his unmade bed. A face pressed against his neck and the lightest brush of lips on his throat.  Murmured words, a streetlight briefly flooding the room, and then darkness and silence.

Stiles woke with a start, but soon began to relax after taking stock of first himself and then his surroundings. He was unmurdered, unmolested, and by all accounts still in possession of all of his belongings. The only things out of place were a pair of playing cards tucked underneath his wallet on the beside table. Well, the first was a playing card, the Ace of Spades of course. The second had the back of one, but was actually a fairly standard business card on the other side. It had a triple spiral symbol on the left. 

Peter Hale, Attorney at Law.

He smiled.

Stiles watched as Peter was punched and pistol-whipped, dragged bloodied and bruised into the inner sanctum of some crime lord’s wannabe chateau. Listened as he begged while henchmen laughed and jeered, taunting that he’d never leave this room alive as they continued to pummel him before tying him up for their boss to interrogate. 

And the award goes to…

When “Mr Marc,” the self-described King of Sacramento, entered the room it was his cue to cut the lights. That unsettling sound of rearranging came through his head piece and then the screaming and gunfire began. 

Stiles took out a few soldiers on the way with his second favorite weapon, a semi-automatic pistol, but the rest had already converged on the custom made cell. Unfortunate for them. By the time he peeked inside it was all over, but the cursing of one gasping Carl Marconi. The man who’d been financing the likes of Haigh and Todd and dealing less-than-legal weapons to the Hunters, not out of any particular animus, but finding the extermination of supernaturals and related fuckery profitable. 

“You messed with the wrong folks,” he said, leaning against the wall as Peter lifted Marconi by the throat in the green light of his night vision goggles. Seconds later there was ripping and gurgling and a trachea landed a few feet away from him with a soft thud.

“Gross, dude.”    

Stiles invited him over after they cleaned up what they needed to, leaving the bodies for their affiliates to find. Perhaps they’d have second thoughts about their business. He booked a nicer place this time, an actual hotel instead of his usual hovel-esque lodgings.

Despite all of his suggestive behavior Peter actually seemed surprised when he pounced as soon as they made it inside.

“Well, this is kind of our third date,” Stiles joked, wagging his eyebrows before kissing him again. 

They made out against the door for a bit, getting more and more heated with little nips and delving tongues. It was obvious that Peter assumed that he would be in charge, but Stiles had other plans at the moment. The wolf followed his unspoken directions with an air of being put upon as he went down to his knees, eyes glowing that inhumane blue, but going nonetheless. 

Stiles pulled out his cock and Peter dropped his fangs with a smirk, but that was no deterrence. Danger only made him harder. 

Carefully, he rubbed the head over Peter’s top lip and then on the fronts of both elongated upper canines and the werewolf shivered, whispering his namebefore retracting his sharpness and taking him into his mouth. Stiles caressed his head as it bobbed, eventually giving a testing tug. Peter groaned and increased his tempo so he did it again. Soon he was holding him stationary and fucking his face, so incredibly turned on be having his way with the werewolf — being allowed to use him — and when he came with a shout Peter swallowed it all, lips wet and eyes shiny.

As he leaned back against the nearby dresser in the midst of his afterglow Peter rose effortlessly to his feet, riled up up and ravenous.

“My turn,” he rasped, plundering Stiles’ mouth and sharing a taste of himself. Pressing him hard against the wall, Peter extended his claws just long enough to tear off his pants and boxer briefs, leaving tiny lines that didn’t quite bleed on his skin.  

“Suck,” he growled, sticking blunted fingers between his lips.

Stiles obliged, jerking his hips at a jolt of arousal. It’d take a while before his dick got back in the game, but he wanted nonetheless. Before he could fully register that his mouth was empty again two fingers were rubbing over his hole. He tried to relax as one pressed inside, burning slightly. 

“So tight, you’re going to feel amazing on my cock,” said Peter, grasping under a thigh and around his back to carry him over to the bed. 

Stiles’ heart raced with both nervousness and excitement knowing what would happen next. He’d been fingered before — mostly, though not solely, by himself — but he’d always topped with his previous partners when it came to fucking. He was also aware that this would not be a gentle deflowering, but he didn’t want to stop. 

After tossing him face down on the bed Peter quickly sniffed out his lube before Stiles could tell him that it was still in his luggage — he deserved a reward for not making a dog joke — and then two slick digits were entering him, alternating between spreading him and brushing over his prostate and then just pumping repeatedly. He wiggled and moaned, rubbing against the bedsheets below him.

“Such a good little whore,” Peter crooned, palming an ass check with his other hand and then lifting it off again. “I know exactly what you need.”

Stiles’ face heated at the words, but he discovered that he liked it. He heard a bottle cap being flicked open and viscous liquid being applied to Peter’s cock. Then he was being pulled up by the hips onto his knees, which were nudged farther apart, and the werewolf climbed over him. Hot, hard flesh pressed against his rim. Stiles realized then that he hadn’t even seen it and had no idea what he was getting into. Or rather, what was getting into him. Breathe, breathe. Relax, relax, re—

With a snarl Peter pushed steadily inside him and he gasped as his body struggled to accommodate the intrusion. His hands clenched in the sheets as he was stretched wide, panting with tears instantly forming in his eyes.

Groans of pleasure from just above punctuated the sound of Peter’s balls slapping against him as he was pounded for several moments and willed himself to just take it. He’d taken Peter’s mouth after all, it was only fair.

Then the movement paused, the fact that he was unusually quiet and still perhaps pulling the older man out of his own blissed out world. 

“Sweetheart, are you okay?” 

Stiles turned his head and gave a shaky smile, nodding, but Peter shot him a skeptical look and then seemed to concentrate inward. He watched in amazement as dark lines began to flow along the werewolf’s veins and suddenly most of the pain was gone, leaving only a mild ache. Taking some deep breaths, he focused on relaxing and letting himself adjust. When Then he experimented with rocking his hips. 

Peter adjusted his position a bit and when he pushed back again he lit up with pleasure, moaning. 

“There we go, darling.” 

The thrusting continued, slower this time, and the werewolf leaned down to lick and suck on his neck. His own cock was hard once more and Stiles began to writhe and gyrate, desperate for more friction. 

Strong hand clamped down on his neck and waist, stilling him as Peter speed up again. “You’re going to be a good boy and take what I give you,” he growled, snapping his hips. 

Stiles gave himself over to the wolf’s control and the cock mercilessly targeting that wondrous little bundle of nerves. He was just starting to get close, but then he felt something happening. An increased pressure.

Peter swore and paused momentarily, grabbing the bottle of lube and drizzling more over them. As he resumed fucking him Stiles felt it again, something stretching him even more.

“Peter?” he gasped.

“Shhhh. It’s okay, darling. Do you trust me?”

Strangely enough, Stiles did. He probably shouldn’t, but that didn’t seem to matter.

“Yeah,” he answered honestly.  The hand at his neck moved to stroke gently down his left side.

“Do you want to be mine? For me to be yours?”

“Yes,” he sobbed, suddenly feeling vulnerable. Not understanding what was going on. He wasn’t really sure what Peter meant either, but he wanted it all the same. The idea of belonging. Wishing that could be true.

Peter made a pleased, guttural sound and he felt himself being opened wider still. He whimpered and the part of the sensation that had crossed over into pain was siphoned again. Finally the source of the pressure slipped all the way inside where it nestled against his prostate. The wolf began to swivel his hips, grinding into him over and over.

Stiles cried out as he came, clenching around the large object and then suddenly sharp fangs were embedded where his shoulder met his neck. He was already overwhelmed before a rush of foreign information — impressions and feelings and things he had no words for — flooded his brain just as Peter’s hot cum flooded his body and he passed out to the sound of roaring.

He floated back to awareness being held to a warm chest, a hand gently stroking his back and neck. He felt sticky and slightly sore, bombarded by sensations and emotions.

“Is that what bottoming is always like? Holy fuck,” he muttered, half-lifting his head groggily before letting it fall again.

Peter paused his petting and Stiles almost begged him to continue the grounding contact.

“You…I assumed…” The wolf was actually at a loss for a moment. 

“S’fine,” he mumbled into the pillow. The soothing touch continued more softly.

When his brain truly came back online some minutes later he jerked up, pulling back to look at Peter, who’d apparently been doing that pain drain thing again. He was going to ask about that later, but he had more pressing things on his mind.

“So wait, what the fuck was up with your dick? And why do I feel like…like there’s more…just more in my head?”

For the first time he saw actual worry on the werewolf’s face, before it smoothed back into a neutral expression.

“Well…”

The more Peter explained about werewolves and mating and wolf mates the narrower his eyes got until he could barely see the mouth still flapping only a few feet away.

“And you didn’t think to tell me about any of that beforehand, you son-of-a-bitch?!”

The worried look was back again, but even more pronounced. Stiles could feel -- because he had some mystical bullshit feeding him another person’s emotions somewhere in his head now — Peter’s anxiety and fear. His defensiveness and discomfort and a flash of hurt, as well. Boo-fucking-hoo. Tellingly, there was only the barest whisper of guilt. The bastard. 

Peter opened his mouth to respond, but he cut him off. 

“Blah blah blah, wolfy instincts I’m sure. You’re a selfish bastard.” Stiles glared into stormy sea eyes. “But then so am I.” 

Peter huffed, crossing his arms. “Well, you can always kill me if you want out.”

“I know.” 

He hadn’t actually known until just then, but he’d figured that would be the case. Peter grimaced and nodded. 

“Are you going to?” 

A numb resignation drifted through the bond. That’s what it was called. The bond. Pack bond. Mating bond. He was a mated man. Claimed.

“Hmm…perhaps,” he answered with bared teeth. 

“Lie.” The wolf hissed. He then leaned forward slightly and sniffed, his head tilted and eyes unfocused before they narrowed in turn. “You’re…not actually mad about this, are you?”

“Not really,” Stiles said, shrugging and sighing deeply. He let out go of the anger that he’d been purposefully trying to cultivate. That he probably should feel, but didn’t. He wondered what that said about him. “But it’s the principle of the thing,” he added, punctuating the words with a finger jabbing into Peter’s chest. 

The asshole flashed a triumphant grin and that occupied little corner of brain was all happy and relieved and smug.

“Eat me,” he retorted, flipping double birds.

And well…Peter did. 

God, his tongue. A++, would be rimmed until he babbled and cried again. And again. He had half a mind to make it a stipulation whenever they got around to drawing up the legal papers as well.

The next morning the wolf — his wolf — was in the process of getting out of bed, but Stiles wrapped around him from behind like an octopus and pulled him back to sit on the edge of the mattress. He spat in his hand and reached around and down to grasp his hardening shaft, tweaking a nipple with the other and leaving disappointingly brief hickeys on the side of his neck. Peter thrusted up into his hand for a minute or two and then twisted to push him onto his back, sliding over his body and settling between his legs. 

He lined up their cocks and then began rutting between, making those hot growly sounds as Stiles moaned and wrapped long legs around his waist and moved his hips. 

“I’m going to give that sweet ass of yours a break,” Peter whispered in his ear, licking and nipping at an earlobe. “But I’ll be fucking you again real soon.”

Perhaps I’ll fuck you first.

Stiles followed Peter into Growing Gaines, a cozy, fairly new shop which sold flowers, plants, and natural remedies. He turned the sign in the door to “Closed” and quietly twisted the lock behind him. 

This was a more impromptu job than usual, the result of his mate showing him bestiaries and other books about the supernatural a couple mornings ago and suddenly coming to the realization that the recent influx of missing children in the area was probably due to some kind of fae creature. Likely in Oakland, around 15 miles away from Peter’s apartment in Walnut Creek, based on the pattern of disappearances.

A wandering Higher Unseelie it turned out, though the exact species was unknown.  Ancient. Beautiful. Deadly. And in this case, rather sloppy, sometimes literally.

There’d been no time to waste — they wanted to make sure she didn’t strike again — so they collected what they knew to work against the fae, much of it already in the wolf’s possession. (Peter had informed him that he was something called a Left Hand, a pack’s protector and enforcer. An instrument of vengeance should harm befall them.) Purified salt, mistletoe, holly, and silver. Rowan, which was part of the rose family and also known as mountain ash. Peter had it in both wood and powdered forms despite not being able to touch it himself. And of course “iron — cold iron — is master of them all.”     

There was some debate about exactly what “cold iron” meant: iron turned into a weapon, iron that had been cold-worked instead of forged or welded, raw iron ore or just a poetic term for iron in general. Stiles made sure to cover all his bases by selecting a sharpened, cold-worked spike made from a meteorite and attached to a rowan handle from the Hale vault. Hell, he threw it in the freezer for good measure and packed it in a cooler bag with ice packs even though the wolf laughed and laughed at him.

While Peter turned on the charm and distracted the sweetly smiling platinum blonde he got to work “browsing” the plant section out back and laid out a binding circle. Well, it was more of an oval really. When she led Peter toward the weigelas he asked about Stiles knocked her out with a rag soaked in mistletoe extract and rolled in silver dust. 

They’d been pretty damn certain that they had the right culprit, but to make absolutely sure Peter rifled through the office inside while Stiles kept watch over the unconscious “Alisha Gaines.” When he felt a sense of nausea followed by rage through the bond he knew that they did before the wolf returned with a look of disgust on his face. It took about another ten minutes for her to wake up — they wanted her aware of why she was going to die — and everything was ready.

“You know all you had to do was not be a complete piece of shit and you could’ve lived just about forever,” Stiles said, shaking his head at the triple bound fairy. “It’s not like you even needed to eat people — children — to survive or anything. You just wanted to.” The malevolent creature glared at him with pure hatred, but thankfully looks couldn’t kill unless you were dealing with a basilisk. “Oh well.” He drove the iron spike into her heart.

With a muffled scream she began to dissipate, which was both fascinating and very convenient. Power coursed through him —as he’d read that it would — and also into a set of seven amulets that he had wrapped around his right wrist. Stiles didn’t have magic himself, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t use it if harnessed in certain ways. And he could definitely benefit from the general upgrade in health and vitality from a transference of life force.  

“God, you’re so fucking sexy when you do that,“ Peter growled, burying a hand in his growing hair and all but mashing their faces together. “The planning.” He licked over the seam of Stiles’ lips. ”The set up.” A teasing tongue worked into his mouth. “Keeping it short and sweet…” Peter sucked on his lower lip. “Instead of a whole monologue.” 

Stiles slipped his tongue into the wolf’s mouth. 

“The execution,” Peter hissed, resting their foreheads together, breathing each other in. “Pun intended,” he added a few moments later before diving back in again. 

The kissing turned into wrestling for dominance and surprisingly enough Stiles won, arms wrapped around the wolf from behind with teeth set to the side of his throat. He wasn’t sure if the fae power gave him that much of a boost or whether Peter simply relented for once. 

“Looks like I’ll be having you tonight” he teased, swatting Peter on the ass. The wolf huffed and stalked away, but he could tell that he was actually pleased. Excited even. This whole bond thing was pretty cool after all, at least when it worked to his advantage. 

Stiles gathered several bunches of hanging herbs that were drying in the sunshine knowing that Mr. Fancy Pants would totally love that shit. He also swiped two bouquets of roses from inside, one with classic, long-stemmed red flowers and the other a pretty light purple variety. The tag called it Plum Perfect and described it as “lavender” and “double flowered.” What could he say, he was a romantic.

Peter made them a lovely beef roast for dinner with root vegetables — parsnips, carrots, Yukon gold and sweet potatoes, and freakin’ rutabagas because he was extra like that — cooked in a red wine sauce with some of the fresh thyme. Afterwards, Stiles found him in the bedroom naked and spread out on his back for him. He hurriedly pulled off his clothes and climbed onto the slate blue 1000 thread count sheets.

The wolf wore a come-and-get-it smirk on his face, but Stiles could feel that he was nervous too. He just lay on top of Peter for a while, kissing him and mouthing his neck while frotting lazily between his legs, enjoying a nice, slowly building heat. His wolf grabbed one of his hands and kissed it, looking up at him with such affection in his eyes.

“Go ahead, sweetheart. It’s just been a long time.” 

Then he took two of those fingers and sucked until they were sopping wet, guiding his hand down between them. Stiles didn’t need to be told twice.

He bit Peter’s shoulder and closed his eyes after inserting that first finger, circling and rubbing inside. He reached over for the lube when he was about to add another, but then held it over the other man’s left hand instead.

“I wanna see you fuck yourself open for me.”

Peter inhaled sharply and moved to obey. The slick sounds watching those shorter, but thicker fingers pumping into his ass, went straight to Stiles’ already rock hard cock. 

“C’mon, show me how much you want it.” 

Peter’s eyes flashed that beautiful bright blue and he started to thrust up with his hips to meet his hand, the tendons in his neck standing out as leaned forward and threw himself into it. Stiles was practically drooling as he stared and decided to put that pooling saliva to use, letting it drip down over his mate’s now three busy fingers. He bent down off to the side and suckled the head of Peter’s leaking cock, licking and kissing and then enveloping it again a few times before pulling away, the wolf trying to keep him there with the scrabbling digits of his other hand. 

He smirked and Peter glared at him — all flushed and sweaty and shameless…beautiful — until he saw him slicking himself up. When Stiles grasped the backs of his thighs just above the knees and lifted the wolf finally withdrew his fingers so that he could take their place. He shuffled forward and rubbed the tip of his cock over his mate’s quivering hole, teasing and savoring the delicious anticipation.

“Fucking hurry it up!” Peter barked. 

Stiles had half a mind to make him wait even more, make him beg, but he was more than ready to get on with it himself. No, he’d give Peter exactly what he wanted. 

“Fuck,” he breathed as he entered that tight, engulfing heat, steadily sinking in until he was sheathed completely. Peter’s mouth hung open, his rim stretched and clenching around Stiles’ cock, but he wasn’t experiencing true pain. Still, he waited until Peter started to wiggle around and then he snapped his hips, setting an even pace. 

Stiles settled down onto his forearms to kiss him and then buried a hand in his hair, tugging his head up and latching onto his neck. His tips tingled from the vibrations of Peter’s moans. He switched to undulating his hips every so often, dragging long and slow.

It was so so good, but soon he began to crave something else. A wilder, animal impulse urged him to claim.

Peter whined when he suddenly pulled out, but he wouldn’t be left empty for long. Stiles flipped him over and lined himself up, pushing back in with a single forceful thrust. He grasped the wolf by the throat, not choking him, but holding firmly, and began thrusting again with abandon. Deep, hard strokes that pressed him into the mattress. Peter gasped and tilted his hips back, spurring him on even more. 

“That’s a good bitch,” Stiles said before biting the back of his neck.

And then Peter was tensing up all over, making low, breathy sounds and clenching around his cock as he came and came and came. Stiles felt his rapid pulse against his palm, squeezing once before letting go and planting both hands on the bed. He sped up then, chasing his own end as the wolf still twitched beneath him. It wasn’t long before his balls drew up tight and he began to shoot his load. 

“Mine mine mine,” he chanted, just as Peter often did when he was the one coming apart under his mate. Stiles only wished that he had a knot to bury in him too. Perhaps he’d check out some of those not-entirely-fantasy-after-all sex toy makers. 

He continued to slowly thrust into Peter even after he emptied every last drop inside him.

They were on the road again, this time all the way to Austin, TX. They could’ve just flown in and gotten a car down there, but it became an excuse to do some gallivanting on the way. Vegas. Albuquerque. Maybe they’d swing down across the border to Monterrey on the drive back. Hit up some museums and stuff themselves with cabrito al pastor.

Stiles all but skipped into their first stop in the city — one of the dozen and a half or so record stores he pulled up on the map — excited to buy some vinyl now that he had access to a turntable and a state of the art sound system. He was browsing the H-Me section when Billy Idol’s Rebel Yell caught his eye. Memories of that fateful trip to Albion and his first encounter with Peter ran through his mind and he grinned. Of course he had to get it. 

The fact that this was their final mission practically made it a sign. An auspicious one, he hoped. Their kill lists had significant overlap, but there were a number of targets who only made the mistake of enraging one of them. Not that that mattered, they were no less dead for it. If someone made it onto Peter’s then, by golly, that was reason enough to land them in his sights as well and vice-versa. 

This one made the top of both of theirs, though. Gerard Argent. Leader of the Argent clan despite their supposed matriarchy. The Hunter who bribed corrupt policeman like Haigh and introduced the likes of Marconi to the existence of the supernatural. Who approved his daughter’s heinous attack on the Hales. 

Stiles had been happy to learn that she’d been left to rot in scattered pieces — or perhaps to become a meal for some lurking scavenger — in a landfill somewhere in the southwest. Arizona or New Mexico. His mate had been kind of out of it at the time, apparently. Kate Argent was one of Peter’s first post-fire kills and understandably the most emotional. 

Now it was time for her father to pay. They’d saved him for last. 

Things went wrong almost immediately, a series of cascading minor mishaps requiring them to adapt everything on the fly. All they needed was for Peter to wearingly declare that he was too old for this shit (he would never) and it would’ve been a perfect cliche. But in the end the mission was salvaged. Gerard was super dead and they were still around to return one day and piss on his grave. The worse for wear for sure — he’d been injured enough to need all 3 of the amulets he brought and would probably have nightmares from having to burn that much wolfsbane out of Peter — but alive. That was all that mattered.

There is nothing safe in this world. And there's nothing sure in this world. And there's nothing pure in this world. Look for something left in this world. Start again.

They were somewhere between Artesia Wells and Encinal, about 60 miles from the border, when Stiles was directed to turn off onto an unmarked dirt path and through a gate. It was covered in signs declaring it private property and promising trespassers a plethora of bodily harm. Stiles raised his eyebrows and glanced over as he continued farther down. 

“It belongs to friends of the family,” Peter stated, completely at ease

The pack. Sometimes the fact that he was now part of it too, if not yet officially, made him slack-jawed with disbelief. Stiles Stilinski, guy who runs with wolves. 

Well, just the one at the moment. And he preferred a brisk walk or a jog at most. A nice sedate stroll from time to time.

They built an unnecessarily large bonfire from the stack of dry branches next to the large two room shed, which was stocked full of water and nonperishable food on one side and various tools, cleaning solutions, and other potentially useful miscellanea on the other. Nice.

He was about to toss in any last detritus from their venture — a pair of shoes, certain fake IDs, some papers (written in code, but still,) a blood-soaked woven tote bag and such — when Peter grabbed his wrist.

“Ah ah ah, dear heart. Smores first, then incriminating evidence. Who knows what awful chemicals are in that stuff.”

Stiles snorted. “I’m still going to breathe it in, babe.”

“Not if you go back to the car and let me and me and my superior constitution handle it. After dessert.”

He rolled his eyes, but sent a burst of affection through their bond. Peter might often wrap it up in jerkitude, but it was these small, thoughtful gestures that showed how much he cared. 

“So what’s on the agenda when we get back? Redecorating? Adopting a pet?” he inquired between gooey bites of chocolate-y marshmallow deliciousness.

Peter didn’t dignify the first suggestion with a response. “Hmm, a well-behaved adult cat might be negotiable.”

“If…?”

“If you accompany me to the Pack House.”

Stiles felt his face warp into something merely resembling a smile.

“Um…sure.” 

He just couldn’t help being anxious about it. What if Laura refused to accept him after she actually met him? Or the three of them just didn’t like him. He learned about how important packs were to wolves when Peter explained about being a Left Hand and all that. 

His mate chuckled and rubbed his shoulders consolingly.

“Okay love, not yet. But soon. And it’ll be fine, I promise. They’re going to love you.”

Stiles wished he could say the same, already imagining the look on the retired Sheriff’s face when introduced to the older man who was even more bloodthirsty and chaotic than he was, not to mention kind of a snob to boot. And that wasn’t even getting into the werewolf thing, assuming he ever broached that topic at all. But hopefully in time his dad would come around once he saw how well they were suited and how doting and devoted Peter was, even if would have studiously not look too closely should any more trash need to be disposed of. 

Almost a week later they returned to Peter’s apartment. Their apartment now he supposed unless the wolf wanted somewhere new. There was no way in hell he was moving into Stiles’ shanty studio situation up in Sacramento, that was for sure, and the idea of living apart was…discomforting to say the least. He liked to blame it on the mate bond or the frequency with which he awoke to Peter’s mouth around his cock, but he also loved cuddling and spooning and breaksfast in bed, okay? 

The Pack House was in Emeryville about 20 minutes away, but he knew his mate liked having his own place. Hadn’t spent much time there at all recently, what with the various “errands” and then being, ahem, tied up with him. He knew Peter missed them and that they wanted to see him too. Both of them. Perhaps he would invite them over for dinner this upcoming weekend. Yeah, hopefully it would be less nerve-wracking if they met in his territory so to speak. This little slice of home.

Stiles made a beeline for the record player to put on his latest purchase. Peter rolled his eyes, smirking at him until music filled the living room and he started to strut, advancing on the wolf and slipping fingers into his belt loops to encourage him to move. "Last night a little dancer came dancin' to my door..." he sang, alternating his shoulders up and down and gyrating.

It turned out that Mr. Hale could shake it with the best of them.

“Never breathe a word of this,” the enforcer threatened as he shimmied forwards and back and then spun, swinging his hips and tossing his head. 

“Sure, babe,” he said, embracing his mate and grinning wickedly behind his shoulder as they swayed together. He wouldn’t say a thing. 

Texts or pictures once he was finally introduced to his Alpha and the others, though…

Perhaps.

[goosedoes-fics]

Werewolf

Bill x witch!Reader

Content Warnings: use of POVs, hanging mention, use of y/n, it's really just mild hurt/comfort

Notes: when I uploaded this to ao3 about a year ago I put one of the tags as "impromptu divorce" and I think that's really funny

~~~~

POV: Bill

Bill ran through the thick forest as fast as he possibly could. Stray twigs and branches clawed at his face as he rushed by them, leaving dirty scratches where they whipped past.

Bill could hear the townspeople's outraged cries some ways behind him. His friends, his family, everyone he had ever known, trying to have him dead. He tried to tell himself it wasn't their fault. The paranoia got to them. But the look of hatred on his wife's face... he couldn't forget that.

At the memory of his wife, his mind flashed back to the scene in the Seer's abode. Despite their semifrequent arguments, Bill had expected his wife to defend him when he was accused of being the werewolf. But... she was so quick to turn on him. There was no sympathy in the woman's eyes when she followed the crowd to have him hung.

The memory brought tears to his eyes, blurring his vision. His emotions were a vortex of anger, of fear, of sadness and betrayal. Quickly, the anger overtook all others. Putting his jeweled hand in front of him, he threw off the precious golden ring viciously, watching it fly behind him and land in a pile of mud, slowly getting harder to see as his legs carried him further away.

The ring was hard to see now. In fact, Bill couldn't hear the townsfolk anymore, either. He slowed to a fatigued jog, straining his senses for any sort of evidence that he was still being followed.

Silence.

With the town, the villagers, and the ring now out of sight, it was as if Bill had never lived there in the first place. He couldn't decipher if this fact made him joyful or absolutely miserable.

Bill refused to stop walking for quite some time. Though every inch of his body begged him to cease his fleeing, he couldn't be sure yet if his pursuers were far enough away to be safe.

It was nearly midnight now. The moonlight filtered through the trees, casting an oddly serene light on the forest floor. Though, Bill noticed, the trees were beginning to thin out considerably.

Looking further ahead, he could clearly see an open field lined with dazzling flowers. He breathed a heavy sigh of relief at his fortune. This would be a good place to settle down. Nobody would be able to sneak up on him.

"You're quite some ways away from the village."

Bill leapt into the air, gaining astounding height from the shock of the sudden voice. Whirling around in panic, he swiftly noticed a human figure wrapped in a silken cloak and decorated by colourful flowers.

It was evidently none of the townspeople, so Bill let himself settle down. He took a few steps back before letting himself speak.

"Who are you?" he asked warily, eyeing them carefully to take in their features.

"You may call me [Y/n] [L/n]." the stranger's critical yet gentle [e/c] eyes were shaded slightly by the brim of their rounded hat. "The Seer told me of your town's plight. I am sympathetic, though as I told her, I am forbidden from tempering in Wolven affairs. I cannot help you."

Bill bowed his head nervously. "I understand. B-but... I have been driven out of the village. I-I am no longer a resident there." as he spoke, he felt his fatigue catch up to him. He willed his eyes to stay open, praying he didn't faint in the midst of a stranger's presence.

They paused for a moment, gazing at Bill carefully. "I'm sorry, but I have no room to house someone of your kind. My work is frowned upon in your world, and I'd hate to force my beliefs upon you." They said the last bit coldly, as if they had heard such a phrase a thousand times.

Bill opened his mouth to speak again, but the thrill of running from the townspeople was beginning to wear off quickly.

Fatigue hit him hard and fast, and as he began to crumble to the ground, all he could muster was a quiet sorry before everything went black.

POV: 2nd person

You gazed at the odd villager curiously as he unconsciously nestled further into his pile of woolen blankets. His sudden fall had surprised you for sure, but you managed to catch him just before he hit the ground. You suprised yourself with being able to catch the hefty man, really. You had to pretty much drag him to your cottage. Oh well, his clothes needed cleaning anyways.

You glanced outside the window. It was about noon by now. The man had been sleeping for at least 12 hours.

As if he had read your thoughts, you saw his figure start to stir in the corner of your eye. Turning to him, you could see just how much good the rest had done him.

He sat up in your wood-framed bed you had lent him, stretching with a loud yawn. The bags under his eyes were no longer visible, you noted as he turned to look at you.

You made eye contact for an uncomfortable amount of time before you spoke up. "Despite my previous concerns... I'm willing to let you stay under this roof for as long as you need. So long as you keep your religious opinions to yourself."

The man looked dazed and confused. Perhaps he had forgotten the events of the previous night? "I don't... think I follow."

"I am a witch," you responded simply, gesturing to the herbs growing in pots around your room. "And your... ex-neighbors have been trying to kill me for years."

He blinked, eyebrows knitting together in an expression of concern. "Well, that hardly seems fair," he commented. "Though they don't seem to know the meaning of fair, I'm coming to realize." His words turned bitter and you remembered his passing comment about being driven out.

"What is your name?" you asked gently after a moment's pause, crossing the room to stand by your desk. You took a vial of coloured liquid, tapping a drop of it into a newly-brewed cup of herbal tea.

"It's... Bill."

You walked back to him, holding out the drink. He accepted it gratefully, taking a few sips. "Normally nobody drinks that brew," you commented fondly. "It's always too bitter for them."

Bill tilted his head. "Sure it's bitter," he agreed, "but you seem to know your way around herbs. I trust you."

A warm feeling filled your chest at his words. This odd man was clearly different from the other villagers. Somehow, he made you feel as if you wanted him to stay.

You quickly brushed the thoughts away. Surely, his fellow townsfolk would welcome him back soon. You wouldn't want to keep him for longer than he needed.

"You should go back to sleep," you advised quietly. "The potion needs time to take effect. It will clear any wounds that haven't already mended."

Bill frowned slightly at your words. "I don't know if I can. I'm not used to sleeping alone."

You raised an eyebrow, staring at Bill for a moment. After some thought, you let out a soft sigh, walking over and sitting on the bed. "Does it go against your kosher laws if you use a witch like a teddy bear?" you asked with a hint of sarcasm.

Bill's face turned a light shade of pink. "O-oh. Well, no, but you... you don't have to if you don't want to."

"It's fine." You smiled softly, laying down next to Bill and staring up at the ceiling. You expected that he wouldn't cuddle with you. You had only just met. But maybe just being close by would help him fall back asleep.

A few minutes passed by with no sounds from Bill. Thinking he had fallen asleep, you turned on your side, facing the window and looking out it placidly. Then, you felt a woolen blanket being pulled over you, and strong arms pulling you closer towards the center of the bed. Your face flushed at the unexpected embrace, but you didn't speak for fear of alarming the tired man and having him pull away. He rested his face in the crook of your neck, his breath warming your skin. His face felt almost as warm as yours, evidently unsure of whether you would accept his touch.

You let yourself relax into the embrace, allowing Bill to do the same. His breathing steadied as he drifted off again.

You closed your eyes as well, letting drowsiness overtake you. The two of you were safe together, you knew for sure.

[bard-llama]

ATLA WiP List: Shippy Fics

So, yesterday I did a list of all my unpublished gen fics and it came out to 73. Let's see how much bigger the list gets with unpublished shippy fics.

Zukaang Fics - non-smut

Our Love Become a Funeral Pyre - In his dreams, Zuko is someone else, someone who lives a life he much prefers. Someone who has a best friend who is an airbender named Aang. Someone who falls in love with Aang, even though Aang’s not real. How could he be? He’s a figment of Zuko’s imagination.

Gay Bar - outsider POVs of two weird kids who come to a gay bar in Ba Sing Se to hang out

Fluffy Zukaang at the Sun Warriors' Island - Zuko practices on the terrrace of the room the Sun Warriors gave them and Aang is enthralled.

“My heart feels like it’s dancing when I look at you.” - Zuko thinks there's something wrong with him. As he tells Aang about his symptoms, Aang wonders how the hell he's supposed to tell Zuko that he's maybe in love with Aang.

Fealty - now that Zuko is Fire Lord, Aang pulls him away from celebration to pledge himself to Zuko - but Zuko beats him to the punch

Pampering Zuko - Aang and Zuko ran into each other in Ba Sing Se and ended up dating. After a while, Aang managed to convince Zuko to take a holiday, so to speak, and come to a private retreat with him where they can be together without a time limit. Now he gets to lather Zuko with affectionate touches.

Treasure (sequel to Pearl) - when Zuko first took the Gaang diving, Aang discovered a black pearl. Now, he's decided how to give it to Zuko.

“I’m in love with your voice.” - Aang wakes up all tied up in the North Pole and ends up talking with Zuko. Zuko is baffled at how this is turning out. He's never just had a conversation with the Avatar before.

Blue Spirit x Avatar Aang - Aang and Zuko both know that people will be weird about them being together. So they hide it. But when a kid asks if Aang is dating the Blue Spirit during open audience, they have an idea - which ends up leading to the next open audience day, where everyone and their mother comforts Zuko that true love will out and that vigilante is no good anyway. Zuko is frustrated.

“We need to stop dancing around it. All it does is hurt us both!” - Aang dreams about his pursuer a lot more than is probably right. But it's just idle fantasizing, and as his enemy, Zuko is safer than Katara to dream about. But when he wakes up at the North Pole in Zuko's arms, he assumes that he's dreaming and kisses the Fire Nation Prince, who is shocked, but responds. Only turns out, it's not a dream and suddenly there's a fight and then he has to save the spirits. So even once Zuko is no longer his enemy, they avoid talking about it until they can't anymore.

“I can’t stop thinking about you. When I wake up, when I’m about to fall asleep…” - Zuko is haunted by Aang and doesn't know what to do about it. Aang has a few ideas.

Soulmate Potential - there are no preassigned soulmates. Anyone has the potential to be your soulmate, and if you happen to click with them, you can build that bond yourself. Your soulmate could be anyone - including your enemy.

Crystal Catacombs - okay admittedly, this was supposed to be the setup for Zuko's POV of same side sex, but so far, they haven't actually reached the same side.

Author Zuko: Blue Spirit/Avatar Aang - a new play comes out about the Blue Spirit and Avatar Aang. A new romantic play. Aang is not impressed. Zuko, meanwhile, is acting a little shifty.

Zuko writes about the Fire Lord and Avatar’s Bond Thru Time - Zuko writes a book/paper/whatever about the clear bond between the Fire Lord and the Avatar. He did not think to tell the Avatar that he was doing this.

Zukaang Fics - smut

Rope Burns - 2 times Aang was roughly burned by rope and one time he asks Zuko to tie him up

Shirtless Sparring - Aang and Zuko spar shirtlessly during training

Airbender Blow Jobs - airbender lung capacity makes for great blowjobs

Zuko blows Aang while Katara watches - inspired by this art, Katara walks in on Zuko and Aang and Zuko makes a show of it.

Aang Approaching Zuko Morning After - after running into Zuko at Pao's Teashop in Ba Sing Se and ending up spending time together, Aang returns to the teashop to see if he can have what he actually wants. Encountering Zuko's Uncle was not part of the plan.

Dreams/Nightmares - when Sokka recommends that Aang picture the bad guys in his nightmares not wearing any pants, his dream about Zuko attacking him takes an unexpected turn.

First Kiss/First Time - when Zuko kisses him out of nowhere, Aang panicks and runs away. Zuko assumes this means he ruined everything. It's left to Mai to force Aang to come back and make them actually talk.

Pao’s Teashop Office Sex - when Aang coming to Pao's teashop leads to unexpected sex, Zuko breaks into his boss' office to use his couch, just because.

Sexytimes – Voyeurism - upon request, Aang pins Zuko with earthbending and makes him watch what the thought of him watching does to Aang

PWP Genderbent Aang picks up Zuko without Zuko knowing - there's no logic to this, it's just what it says on the tin

Identity Porn - Aang doesn't know who the Blue Spirit is. That does not stop him from picking up the mysterious vigilante when they run into each other in Ba Sing Se. Zuko doesn't know what to think.

Other Ships

Zuko navigating 10 (billion) relationships - aka Zuko is involved with literally EVERYONE and they figure out how to share lol

Zutaraang - Aang gets all hot and bothered watching Katara and Zuko spar. They find this very concerning until they figure out why he's all flushed and flustered.

Zutaraang Lap Sex - Katara decides to make a move that lets them all have what they want - she can have Aang, Zuko can also have Aang, and Aang can have them both, like he clearly wants. Win-Win, even if she's not such a big fan of Zuko.

Aang loves his friends - eh, this might actually be gen, but kinda started out about Zukaang, and may go towards the whole Gaang together??? Idk

Katara and Aang decide to pursue Zuko - post-canon, Aang approaches Katara to talk about polyamory, because to the Air Nomads, him loving Zuko as well was no big deal, but to other nations, it could be. Katara needs some time to think about it.

Everyone is in love with Zuko: He catches a clue - Zuko confesses to his wife that he's in love with his friends - to which she responds "oh, you finally figured it out? Good job."

I Still Dream About You - Gaang/Zuko where for his 30th bday or so, they all get wasted. His memories of that night are a little iffy, but he definitely remembers Aang kissing him and the others watching him. He dreams about it a lot. Meanwhile, the rest of the Gaang misses him and looks fondly back on their memories.

Sparring for who gets to take Aang - Zuko and Katara take sparring very seriously. Aang doesn't get what the big deal it.

An Arrangement for World Peace - Toph and Zuko get married. For world peace. The Gaang is shocked.

Toko S3 Hookup - a series of encounters that start when Zuko accidentally walks in on Toph, who's swearing up a storm bc her earthbended dildo just broke. Zuko makes himself useful.

The Southern Waterbending Line - Zuko's maybe a little bit jealous of Katara and Aang getting married, but the important thing is that they know what they're getting into. Which leads to a conversation about bending genetics and what their kids could end up being - and a question of where Katara's waterbending came from.

Zuko is not in touch with his emotions - Mai and Ty Lee sit Zuko down and force him through some therapy to help him recognize that he's in love with his friends.

38 total! See, that's not so bad! I mean, in total total, that would be 73 + 38 = 111, which is.... kinda high, but at least it's a nice number!