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moondirti · 11 months

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animalic (6)

← chapter five // series masterlist

pairing: miguel o'hara x f!reader rating: mature word count: 4k summary: misery makes good company warnings: enemies to lovers, forced proximity, angst, i mean it guys, miguel o'hara is really not nice in this one, fighting, death/extinction, morally questionable characters, weapons of mass destruction, implied drug withdrawal, reader is given a backstory notes: apologies for what's to come. it's okay if you hate me after

“Don’t move. You’ll make it worse.”

There’s a warm hand cupping the back of your head, callused fingers spread to steady the junction between it and your shoulder. It’s the first thing you notice when you wake; that, and the breath fanning across your face.

You think it odd. Signs of life pound beneath you like the febrile concoction of a dream, burning hot in emphasis that you’d survived. A heavy pulse behind your brow, the headache pinching at every sense until they all dim to conductive static. Your tongue, pasty on the roof of your mouth. The hind of your arm itches, the urge running bone-deep, humming from flesh gracelessly torn apart by a gutter. When you shift to examine it, a fire roars up your neck, the smouldering pain robbing you of any effort.

(The only other time you’d been this uncomfortable, you were bitten by a spider the third month of your internship with Alchemax. The puncture site didn’t burn so much as the delirium that followed.)

“What did I just say?”

And, there’s that voice. You find it difficult to discern its more unique attributes, words muffled from behind the wavering pane of your lucidity – yet, even still, it stands as the most tangible thing present. Deep, resonant. Smoked with a ruggedness you can feel in your teeth. It doesn’t occur to you why it seems so unfamiliar; perhaps it’s the fact that you catch it through its source, your ear pressed to a muscled chest. Or, that’s it’s whispering.

You’ve never heard him whisper. Not to you.

The need to retaliate swells once you realise who holds you. It’s nothing productive, not the string of questions you should be asking – what’s happening, where are we; but it’s the only natural instinct that overcomes you. When you attempt to make good on it, though, the clutter of jokes, gripes, and snubs tangle in your throat, emerging as little more than a groan.

And the act wears you more than it probably should, exhausted tremors wracking your frame. A tender ache ripples from a point on your ribcage – separate from the area you’d fractured at the quarry. The pressure here is more centralised, a focused bruise you locate the source of with a wriggle of your elbow, when a rock comes loose and clatters to settle underneath you. It joins a mound of similar rubble, a pseudo-cushion of chalky cement broken off the larger slabs surrounding you.

You assume they do, at least – based on what you can tell of the terrain behind your back. In reality, you have no means to confirm your circumstances. The space around you swims in ink-blot darkness, the type that is almost material, where sheer absence of light could be considered an element of its own. You squeeze your eyes shut, then widen them, and find that there’s no difference between the two.

So – dark, dusty and… cramped. You’re positioned across Miguel’s lap, his legs running under and perpendicular to yours. Neither of you can stretch them to their full extent, however, forced to cross and bend in unwieldy ways, tangling further in each other's limbs. Your clothes are worn out enough to allow you to detect when any surface of his body – tense abdomen and thick thighs – twitches, thrumming with a molasses-slow tension that starts to diffuse through you.

Not a scenario of his own choosing, then.

But the turn of events that might’ve converged to this are lost on you, white noise fluffing the space they’d evacuated. Last you recall, you were staring down a cop car, the lingering comfort of a child’s trust filling you with a remarkable sort of purpose, that which you cannot place. Had you acted against that convict? Or left it up to the man cradling you?

As if on cue, he speaks.

“You’re trapped under a collapsed building.”

He says you like he’s not a confounding variable in this equation. You know it’s meant to single your blame in this, stranding it somewhere where you can brood without cross-examining him or why he’s here too. It nests on a well of guilt you keep suppressed for good reason, irking you in a particularly special way.

“Figured that out for myself, thanks.” Despite the trouble you put into getting the retort out undisturbed, it ends up sounding more unconvincing than not. Miguel waits for the coughing fit you have afterwards to subside before pitching in his acknowledgment.

“Did you, now?”

Little shit isn’t even trying to hide his sarcasm.

You ignore him, continuing with your scepticism. “I’m just wondering why we’re still here.”

Because it’s a genuine conjecture. While you’re not a part of the educated camp in spider-hero abilities – being so clueless to the extent of your own – you’re far too familiar with that infamous super strength. You’d sensed the difference for yourself; your increasing aptness in carrying hefty weights, the fluidity with which you cruise through life, physically unperturbed. And you’ve been on the receiving end of the spectrum too, your skin littered with scars that point to the sheer power of your companion.

A few tonnes of demolished concrete should be a walk in the park for him.

He clicks his tongue like it’s obvious. “I pulled under a steel arc in time for the debris not to crush us. If I disturb this pocket, or try to rearrange a tunnel, then I run the risk again.”

The logic makes sense, as much as you hate to admit it. Of course, that doesn’t stop you from picking at the contrivances in his language. It was you when discussing what went wrong, and now it’s I when it comes to the out. You realise it’s probably unintentional. Somehow, that makes it worse. He must truly believe you’re nothing beyond a malevolent fuck-up; some villain willing to sacrifice herself for the greater demise.

(The latter might have its validity. It’s the former you hold issue with.)

Likewise, you also ascertain an easy fix to all this – on account of your spectral properties. And, if you were a better woman, it would’ve been feasible. Phase out, crawl through until you breach the open, get help.

It’s long since been established that you’re not that person, though – and you’ve come to accept your own incompetence. You don’t mean to die here; you’re not sure if you want him too either, for all your ire. But your immateriality is a fickle thing, recurring at the most inopportune times, in the smallest increments – a potential problem for the doubtlessly long crawl it’d take to escape. You don’t want to imagine what would happen should you solidify within the walls.

Resignation seems easier than tempting it.

Miguel must recognise the option as well. As it stands for him, he can’t afford to let you go, nor is he desperate enough to trust you yet despite it. You don’t bring it up then, maintaining the upper-hand by his misunderstanding of your capacity.

(Maybe you are evil.

Or, just tired.)

“That’s okay. I think it would be funny if we passed like this.” You pitch, nudging your cheek to urge the smile clearly lacking in your tone. There’s no humour behind your choice of phrase, and it’s a jarring step back from where he’d been, expounding himself. You suppose it might be a clumsy distraction from the exact gravity of your predicament, yet even that rolls over in your brain, not quite satisfactory to dissolve as truth. “It’ll make a nice story for the people who dig us up.”

His chest puffs, filling with an irritated inhale. In the same movement, his fingers constrict onto your cranial base; it has the adverse effect of bracing your neck for the sudden shift, minimising the soreness triggered by any activity. You decide to take it as the warning it’s meant to be instead.

“Eres patética.” He murmurs, sinking back down. You wince when his clutch weakens, pain flaring. “And whiplashed.”

You purse your lips, critical. “I’ve had worse.”

“Sure.”

“My arm–”

“Will be fine.” As if to punctuate, he reaches for the wound. A clink sounds when he taps it. “Used the nanotech off my suit as a bandage.”

You should have caught that it doesn’t sting like it would’ve if exposed. Similarly, his hands are gloveless. Bare – while the rest of him isn’t. You’d felt the dry surface of his palm, the fixed warmth it emanated, but for some oversight, you hadn’t considered that he was touching you. Skin-to-skin, the simple size of his fists dwarfing you in every measure.

A stone lodges in your throat.

“Did– How’d you know?” You pry, referencing the perpetual tenebrosity you’re suspended in.

What he replies with shouldn't shock you, not as much as it does. But the air’s shifted to a nuanced degree, a hesitation substituting loud anger. It's the awareness that he's just as tuned in to you as you are him, sympathetic to try and redirect you off the brink of death. Or, more likely, it’s the poignant impression of his fangs, wedged in your flesh, his tongue lapping up the very same path.

(And the wanton moan it’d triggered.)

“I could smell the blood.”

Oh.

Truthfully, you’ve no clue whether you respond aloud or keep your contemplation close to your psyche. He admits it almost… awkwardly, like it’s a condition he’s not so fond of himself. Yet it’s one that reverberates in the strained silence, plucking at taut strings that stretch with every passing second. You play it on repeat, stewing over the way in which he spoke; the diction, the stressors, the slight roll of his accent.

I could smell it. I could smell you. The blood.

Your life on the run hardly ever allows for moments like these. Over the past year, stress has anchored itself by the dock of your being, streamlining a flow of cortisol to every major organ. Continuity hinges on an alertness to the forces propelling you, and while the occasional wisecrack can alleviate some effects it has on your health, you don’t have the luxury of sinking into whatever fear bolsters it all.

It’s with him, though – hanging from a crane, or cornered in a pen of his own design. Only ever with him are you slapped with the resounding, festering distress of your own weakness. It consumes you, gnawing on your gut with its brutal teeth, tearing away the indifference you’d built around your systems. How dissimilar the two of you are; a girl unwilling to fight for even herself, and a man capable of wrapping a slash in the dark.

(He could smell it. And he can probably see, too.

By just how much does he outmatch you?)

“You’re welcome.” Miguel growls. You scold yourself for your elongated reticence, the pace of your heart overtaking the anxious torrent of thoughts that pump through you. It’s good practice to thank the man who’d saved your life four times over. Be that as it may, does it really count if he’s the reason it was necessary to begin with? He’d dropped you off that crane, he’d swung you a hundred feet high. Him, him, him.

You curl your tongue, desperate to quell the barrage of resentment that escalates at his prodding. Despite it pulling you from your rapid dissociation, your fight-or-flight peaks, forcing you to face a confrontation you don’t need. There’s nowhere to run – presently, you’re moored into place, his physicality and unique provocation blocking the possibility all together.

You scoff to placate the spiralling desire to argue.

It doesn’t work.

“For what?” You hiss.

All too quickly, his legs spread, creating a trough for you to slide down into. When your ass hits the unforgiving floor, you involuntarily cringe at the contrast it poses to his leg. A calculated effect, you’re sure – so too is the newfound freedom of his grip releasing your head, the crossing of his forearms pushing you away from the post his pecs provided.

It’s what you wanted, to distance yourself from his overbearing stature. And he manipulates it to his own favour; you’re made to bear your burden, the agony of your injured state tripling as if to exclaim: ‘see?’

Touché.

Nevertheless, it palliates your memory. The chill of the earth under you spikes your nerves, clearing the brume overcasting your day previous. You’d driven a car into that symbiote based on a groundless hypothesis; bold, any scientist would tell you. Yet, as far as your perception extends, it worked.

“Selfish.” He announces, far from discrete. It’s so unlike him that it smites the ego beginning to coagulate at your remembered success.

Your eyes snap to where you assume his face is, squinting like your glare makes any difference. “Excuse me?”

Undeterred by the threat inherent in your tone – that which is all talk – he persists. “Who do you think you are exactly, Wraith?”

The interrogation holds a dangerous quality; again, it feels out of place, a spirit tugging at the strings of his hollow self.

“Don’t call me that.”

“Why? What would you prefer? Anomaly, banshee? You drag death behind you like it’s a curse, only you’ve opted into it. I told you it wasn’t our place to interfere, and you had to push it–”

He can be jaded, or subtle. Oftentimes, he’s dismissive and passively rude.

But Miguel O’Hara is never heedlessly hostile. Not like this.

“That wasn’t my fault, asshole. I fucking glitched!”

“¡Órale, estás bien pendeja! Nothing ever is, of course! Has it never occurred to you to take a good look in the mirror?”

The irregularity scares you. Your voice breaks with it.

“O’Hara–”

“Because I’ll tell you what I see; a girl who can’t face what she’s done.”

“You don’t know me.” You shake your head, tamping the stiffness in your shoulder. It does nothing to exercise the sharp unease that flays you alive.

“A self-serving criminal who refuses to listen.”

“I d– I tried.” Hiccupping, the edge worsens.

“You’d have gone back home–”

“There’s nothing left for me there!”

“Like there is anywhere else? You’ve devastated them!”

“Stop it–”

“Wrecked entire worlds! I’ve been the only one holding it all together,” He yells, pushing his knees closer to one another. You’re slowly crushed in the process, thighs drawing up to press against your torso. “You’re no victim. You’re no hero.”

“Stop it!”

“Tell me I’m wrong!”

Feverish tears slice down your cheeks, spouting to escape the pressure that balloons within you. Your lungs tighten alongside it, heart aching. It’s progressed past the point of prevention – no longer do you retain control of how this turns out. All you can do is drift; a feather, seized in this tempest, stirred by a disembodied man.

When you don’t respond, preferring to preserve your energy for the sobs that rip from you, he inches closer. You sense it when he repeats himself, his hot breath lining the shell of your ear.

“Well,” His claws sharpen, grazing the small of your back. “Am I?”

His lisp is more pronounced like this, fangs extended to affect the natural position of his mouth. It warps the undertone, like a pool does light, and sends it back more viscous than ever. He’s uninhibited – an addict missing his fix.

It’s almost impossible to choke the admission out against the hatred churning your stomach. When you unhinge your jaw, it’s a credible wager that you retch all over yourself instead.

“No.” You manage to warble, a mixture of snot and wet misery streaking down your chin. Your wrists stay plastered, allowing the mess to mask your countenance, tucking between your legs in a childlike attempt at comfort. Cruelty crackles – self-propagated now – assaulting your faux-confidence until it plummets to a fraction of what it was.

Cursed. A wraith – haunting the multiverse with her unfinished business.

There’s nothing left to declare as his impressions are confirmed. You both mark it, this changed, spoken into existence by your divulgence. By some miracle, if you were to slip his capture, it’d be no more of a victory than the gore crusting your fingernails. Proof for his belittlement; that you truly are so inconsiderate as to further endanger the lives of millions.

(Would you be able to live with yourself?)

You relapse, agonising over the past week. Not a victim – you’d taken advantage of him with a kiss for an unsure opportunity. Not a hero – you’d punched a robber and gotten a civilian killed in the process. You’d run over a murderer and buried several under an early grave.

(Can you live with yourself?)

And home–

Trapped, you boil in a pond of your transgressions. It’d been a long time coming – your fault, in fact. You should’ve noticed the water was gradually heating.

There’d been a dam of careful construction at this bank, stacked tirelessly over the several nights you’d been given to think on what you’ve done. To prevent your clear culpability from catching up to you, to blind others to it too. He’s right, but not about all things. You’ve memorised your reflection at this point. Put it in a line up, and you’ll point your place in hell with facile certainty.

So, there’s no need to admit anything else. Regardless, his sabotage compels you to. Here, loitering purgatory with the one person who’d never understand; what harm could confession do? His opinion of you skims rock bottom, and you’ve no hope at seeing a priest before you rot.

Forgive me, for I have sinned.

“I’m not innocent.” You start. “Never have been.”

Alpha Centauri, that was the goal.

Located only four light years away, it’s the closest star system to Earth; with suns Rigil Kentaurus, Toliman and Proxima Centauri forming a trinary network. All main sequence stars – like humanity’s very own Sol – orbited by suspected habitable exoplanets. With the average chemical rocket, it’d take upwards of six thousand years to get there.

There lay alternatives, of course. Nuclear fission, with an energy yield of almost zero from its original mass. Fusion, ten times as efficient – still, not nearly enough. Ion accelerators, sunlight capture. Interstellar arks were of no interest; no, you’d wanted to achieve extrasolar travel within your lifetime. Warp drives and hyperspace – all theoretical.

As an undergrad, you’d settled on matter-antimatter collision.

The latter, antimatter, exists as an inverted twin to ordinary subatomic particles, with flipped states on every front. Antiprotons – negative protons with oppositely directed magnetism, and positrons – positively charged electrons. When the two meet their counterparts, their entire mass is converted into energy. And, when such annihilation is modelled within engines, a ship can accelerate to ninety percent the speed of light.

Therein subsisted your only chance to touch the stars.

Of course, like all hypotheticals, it came with its own array of issues. No natural reservoir of the substance is known, and producing at least one tonne would take more power than mankind has used in all its history. Moreover, it’s near nonviable to store. Any container that has ever touched regular matter would only cause preemptive decimation.

You wrote papers and studied computer-generated prototypes. You argued with professors, and attended pro-conferences. Months worth of minimum wage were blown on trips to Argentina, where the neighbouring system can be spotted through a telescope, winking above the horizon. When it all started to appear fruitless, you caught wind of Alchemex’s exploits within the field.

It was a young company, hobbling on its feet after a rocky merger with Oscorp. But they were daring, and rich, endeavouring into categories that most deemed nonprofit. You’d applied for an internship, waited months to hear back. By some cosmic karma, it turned out to be good news when you eventually did.

They were already working on manufacturing the antimatter. It was your suggestion that encouraged them to use magnets to store it within a vacuum.

It looked auspicious. It had been.

Then, you were bit.

The spider was from another division – radiation, you suppose. By some breach on account of a more negligent temp, the critter had found its way into your improvised cubicle. And so the story goes; it’d champed down on the webbing between your thumb and forefinger, before promptly suffocating under the cup you’d snared it in. The area stung for a while, venom having directly found your veins. Yet, by the time you’d returned to your dorm, your immunity seemed to have diluted its effects.

Until, you’d gotten sick. The hysteria was slow to consolidate, starting as a sore throat. You’d used your one day off then, ignorant to just how bad it could get; because the fever only deepened, lesions on the lining of your oesophagus oozing ichor into bile. Your doctor waived the possibility of tuberculosis, mistrusting the notes your instructors sent with you, complaining of in-class fainting bouts.

You couldn’t miss work, though. Never. Not when you were so close.

So you stuffed sheets of pills in your pockets and braved each shift with trembling joints. You’d no friends to notice your suffering, and for such an ambitious company, overtime was expected. Sweating through multiple layers of clothing, you kept an eye on your poster of the galaxy and lagged on those long nights. At the rate you were going, you genuinely dreaded a life cut short before you could realise your objective.

If nothing else, it urged you to work harder.

Your first milestone came at the one kilogram mark. A party was hosted to celebrate, billionaires invited to gather around the vessel which held such a revolutionary feat. Despite your interloper status, you’d been summoned too, to play big girl scientist and present Alchemex’s future course of action. Your affliction was improving, and you were the inspiration behind the project’s advance. It felt like the biggest night of your career.

(‘Magnets! What a genius solution.’ From a nobel prize runner up.

‘That ambition will get you far, mark my words.’ The CEO’s cousin.)

In truth, it was the last.

Because the antimatter had taken centre stage, security slackening with its continued stability. So long as the magnetism wasn’t tampered with, so long as the vacuumed vessel remained airtight, things looked to be fine for your speech. You’d cycled through every known variable, staring down the container, a champagne flute tucked in your sweaty palms.

Your skin prickled.

The glass smashed to the floor. In your embarrassment, you’d brushed it off as clumsiness prompted by the perspiration – notwithstanding your recount, having seen the drink fall through your mass. Did it matter, though? You couldn’t put it past your illness to cause such hallucinations. It was impossible, a trick of sight.

The festivities progressed, yet the tingle of your nerves didn’t subside. Anxiety – you chalked it up to common apprehension. So, when your boss announced your name for all to hear, and the agitation flared, it wasn’t alarming. You could think of nothing else anyway, honed in to the address you’d practised all morning.

Good evening, ladies and gentlemen.

Your gut flipped. Your vision blackened.

The steps lost depth; you stumbled up them with all the grace of a hunted fawn.

Today–

Your skin prickled once more, and you collapsed. Through the antimatter’s vessel, through the floor.

There’s nothing to recall after that. Not for a long while.

“I don’t become intangible.” Your brow bone rests on the curve of your knee, body curled in a foetal position. “My particles merely… find the best way through something.”

Miguel has remained eerily quiet throughout your chronicle. You try not to let it dissuade you.

“So–”

“Some came in contact with the antimatter.”

“Yeah.” You murmur, moved by an unnamed emotion. “It detonated, naturally, with a force roughly equivalent to a nuclear bomb. Wiped out everyone in the city upon discharge, then everyone in the state with its impact. Or– maybe, I don’t know. I was discarnate for weeks – the explosion had no effect on my immaterial self, and the radiation couldn’t hurt me when that spider damn well sought and failed at it already.”

You hug yourself tighter.

“I only witnessed the winter that followed. The blast was large-scale enough to trigger firestorms and a global climate cooling – similar to the one they scare you with when talking about nuclear warfare. Crop failure, famine. Millions died and my home devolved into cataclysm. It was mass extinction,” You school yourself, waving the snivel crawling up your nose. “Because of me.”

An end by starvation or infection, confined to this tomb, seems a perfectly fitting penance.

“Explain this to me, O’Hara – what just providence made me spider-woman to a barren land?”

chapter seven →

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shotmrmiller · 5 months

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Needs must

Pairing: Simon 'Ghost' Riley x F!Reader

WC: 2.1K

TW: prostitution, explicit fingering, and smut-ish.

ive got 4 other ideas for this goddamn escort au and one of em is MY BOY JOHNNY. oof i cant wait. im mad it took me this long to do this. I wrote this listening to rich sex by nicki minaj.

You had needs. No matter how magical, a toy can only do so much for you. You wanted the praise of another human being—the warm touch of their hands around your waist, your neck. God, you needed to get laid. But after the disaster that was your last relationship, how nasty it ended, you couldn’t even ring your ex-girlfriend up for a booty call.

Sucking your teeth, you look at your phone. Noon. Well, maybe one of your friends you’re about to meet up with for a weekly Saturday brunch knew someone who would be interested in a no-strings-attached situationship.

—

Flipping the card in your hands, you chewed on your bottom lip in deliberation and looked down at the business card— the color of bone with raised black lettering. Ghost, it read, with his number on the back. How you ended up with this in your hand made you almost regret having reprobates for friends. An escort. That’s what they had shamelessly suggested. You had almost choked on your eggs benedict when one of them pulled out a contact card from their wallet and placed it by your mimosa. I mean, really. Preparing to argue about their lack of sense, they brought up a great point. It was either this, someone who was there for what you needed whenever you needed it, or your toys which were in a pathetic state from constant use. Your ex called it quits because you simply couldn't find the time to maintain a proper relationship— your demanding job took up most of it. You couldn’t believe you were about to do this.

Ghost. What a name. But you suppose it didn’t matter what his name was, only that he could do his job, and with the way your friend gushed over him— he’d leave you walking side to side. You needed this. You worked too hard for too many hours to not spend your money on some self-care.

Fuck it. Maybe he will be just a one-time thing, you thought, and sent his number a text.

—

Closing the door of your car, you briskly walk towards the small cafe Ghost had sent the address to; A cute little quaint coffee shop. Coming to a stop, you straighten your office skirt and run a hand through your hair before opening the door. Breathing in the coffee aroma, you look around for who you’re looking for, spotting him sitting in the back. The click of your heels echoes inside the cafe, catching the attention of your awaiting companion. He looks up and rises to stand, and it takes you aback. It was like witnessing a grizzly standing on its hind legs. Jesus.

He was tall, so tall, and broad. Wearing a black beanie and covering the lower half of his face with a mask, he extends his arm out to shake your hand, and you internally scream at how shapely his arm alone looks over his long-sleeved shirt.

“I’m Ghost. It’s a pleasure, love.”

Choking back a moan at his accent, you put your hand in his and say, “No, I’m sure it’ll be all mine.” You can see his dark eyes crinkle at your quip.

“If we get through this smoothly, the next time we meet I’ll make sure of it.”

As you let out a playful laugh, Ghost reaches for the back of your chair, pulling it out with a chivalrous gesture. “And a gentleman? You definitely know how to sell yourself.”

“No, love. This is just a common courtesy. I don’t need t’tell you that I’m good,” and in one smooth motion, he extracts a sleek, forest green matte folder from the leather business bag lying at his feet.

“I need this filled out, just the usual— hard and soft limits. Safewords, nicknames, allergies, and so on.” You pick up the folder and open it, skimming over the contents of the front page.

“This really is your job.” You flick your eyes from the folder to him and he’s already looking at you, watchful and steady.

“O’ course it is. I take my clients, and future clients, seriously. I enjoy wha’ I do but it will never be at the cost of another. I will not make you uncomfortable in any way, nor risk your health. I aim to please you, not the other way around. And I cannot do tha’ if I don’t know tha’ you’re allergic to latex or completely against something I might do.”

He gives a slight cough, and you divert your attention from the paper and meet his gaze. “What’s a pretty thing like you seeking out someone who offers these types of services?” and a lighthearted chuckle escapes you.

“The same reason the one who gave me your card did— just looking for a good time, no commitment.”

He raises his eyebrows at that but makes no further comment. Smart man. Glancing at your wrist, you check the time. “Right,” and lean forward to get up when Ghost shoots up from his chair to pull out yours. “I’ll have your folder ready for you by the weekend,” and turn your head to face him.

“Is that when you’ll want this, then?” and you give a casual shrug.

“If you happen to be available.” He reaches out and gently grabs your hand to pull you in for a tight embrace. Softly, he whispers in your ear, “I’ll be seeing you then, love.”

You leave with a silly little grin on your face.

—

The weekend comes and you’re a puddle of nerves. You can’t remember the last time someone made you this anxious. The knock on your door startles you out of your inner ramblings. It’s time. Taking in a deep, calming breath, you open it.

Ghost calmly walks in, and starts taking off his mask, and then leather jacket.

“I’ve one absolute limit I forgot to mention,” he says in a firm tone. “I do not kiss. It is not a negotiation.”

Well, you couldn’t give a damn if he didn’t. Nonchalantly, you shrug and say, “And mine is that we always use a condom.” With a nod and a chuckle, he eagerly grabs the folder from your table and starts flipping through its pages.

“A’right, love. Go get on the bed f’me.” The smirk he gives you is positively wicked. “I saw tha’ you have like to be told wha’ to do.” He jerks his chin towards your room. “And take everything off.” With nervous excitement, you run off, haphazardly tossing your clothes on the floor.

—

Eyes covered with a blindfold, all you hear is your shaky breathing and his footsteps on your plush rug. Your nerves feel exposed, raw. As you lie on the bed, you suddenly feel a firm grip on the flesh of your thighs, causing your skin to break out in goosebumps. The room's cool air contrasts with the warm heat radiating from his touch, pulling a hiss from your lips as he pulls you toward the edge of the bed.

“Atta girl, love. Open your legs f’me, lemme see that pretty pussy.” The lack of eyesight helps you to focus on his touch alone, making you fearless, and your legs drop open without hesitation as you lie on your back.

“Look at tha’. Aren’t you just a dream? Hm?” he puts his hands on your knees, keeping your thighs open, wet cunt exposed. “And you waxed, too. Hope tha’ wasn’t f’me.” You feel a fingertip slide from your hood, down to your clit and hole, spreading your juices around the labia and back up. Your nerves are on fire, your pussy clenching around nothing, forcing juices to drip down to your arsehole.

“A’right, pretty. Touch yourself. Shove your tiny little fingers into your,” he pauses to suck the skin of your inner thigh, “cunt and show me how to make you feel good.” He then moves his mouth closer to where you need it most, and bites. Are you defying me? Did you suddenly become deaf as well, once I blindfolded you?” and you aggressively shake your head.

“No! No, sir. I hear you, loud and clear.” With a tight squeeze to your thighs, he says, “Then do as I say.” Moaning, you slowly bring your hand down, starting from your chest. Your palms rub against your pebbled nipples, down to your soft stomach, until your fingertips meet your swollen nub, then move in soft, tight circles, mewling at the feeling. The groan that reaches your ears is so lewd, you could come from that alone.

“Tha’s it, baby. You’re doing so well. Look at how wet you are, fuck, show me just how you like it.” And you do. A vulgar noise comes from your hole once you stuff yourself with one finger, slowly stretching, before adding another. It’s something, but not enough, not what you want. Not thick enough, long enough, and that thought makes you whimper in disappointment.

“Aw, are your fingers not satisfying? I’ll help you, sweet, only because you look so delicious spread out f’me like this. So vulnerable, bare.” His breath fans over your cunt, over your clit, and it sends a jolt up your spine— but he doesn’t move, doesn’t touch. It feels like you’ve been waiting for hours until he finally, finally, pushes a thick finger into you, and curls it, rubbing against the right spot, over and over, and then pushes in a second, threatening to tip you over the peak. The feeling is intense —your walls clench around him firmly in your rising pleasure.

“Oh, g-god, Ghost pleasepleaseplease,” squealing as you fuck yourself on his hand, and when your hypersensitive nerves pick up on the sensation of his scorching mouth on your clit, with a pulsating suction, your muscles tighten and tremble, to the point of pain, until Ghost gives one hard suck, forcibly pushing you off the edge. The wail you let out is ear-splitting— as ecstasy slams into your body, like waves crashing at shore. Your thighs squeeze Ghost’s head irrationally tight, but he doesn’t care, just groaning into your core, lapping up your juices like a dehydrated man who’s found an oasis. Your body stings— prickles from the vicious high you’re riding—chest heaving with sobs from the sheer force of it, fingernails digging into Ghost’s scalp, yanking on his hair. As your soul melts back into your body, you absentmindedly thank all the bloody gods for having friends who really do look out for you.

Whimpering pathetically, your limbs go limp, loose, heavy. Ghost easily picks your body up and moves you toward the center of the bed, vertically, the blindfold still robbing you of your vision.

With a grunt of effort, his hand firmly settles by your ribcage, sinking into the softness of the bed, and then he slips a folded pillow beneath your hipbones, expertly arching your spine into a delicious angle. His hand firmly connects with your rear, not just once but twice, feeling the exquisite sting of it. The room falls into silence, only to be interrupted by the clinking sound of his belt buckle. Your body tenses as you hear the unmistakable sound of plastic being torn open, and then you feel his thick and warm shaft teasing your entrance. A moan escapes your lips as he penetrates you, his movements slow and sensual, until his hipbones press against your backside. Taking his time, he slowly pulls back his length, dragging it against your slick walls, before pushing forward again, covering your body with his own. His right hand is flat on the bed by your right shoulder, while his left curls around your neck, gently forcing your head to tilt back onto him. The tip of his head grinds against the entrance of your womb.

He moans softly into your ear, before quietly purring, “Let’s see how many more orgasms I can wring out of you, pet.” The tightening of his makeshift necklace around your throat is your first and last warning of what is to come.

—

He pulled four. Four gut-wrenching, shattering orgasms before finding his own release. He left you a drooling, sloppy, sweaty mess on your bed, completely languid and relaxed. Somewhere, you faintly hear your phone ping with a notification. Hissing as you get up, you limp to your living room, and see it on the sofa. Unlocking it, you see that it’s Ghost, sending you his Cash App information. Holding in a chickle, you send him his money and wait for his confirmation.

It was a real pleasure, doll. Let me know when you need me again.

Cackling to yourself, you place your phone back on the table.

Bastard.

He knows you’ll definitely be seeing him again.

#call of duty #simon ghost riley #cod mw2 #cod #cod mwii #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley x reader #simon riley #ghost simon riley #simon ghost x reader

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starzwithapen · 5 months

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⋅•⋅⊰∙∘˗ˏˋ ˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚ ˎˊ˗∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

JOHN DORY / READER ☆ START A LOVE TRAIN

જ⁀➴.𖥔 ݁ ˖༉‧₊˚.

☆Summary: John Dory's first meeting with Rhonda and her owner, you!

☆Content: reader is gender neutral, first meeting!! Gonna make a part 2 exploring their relationship more :3

☆a/n: I FUCKING HATE HIM [affectionate] my first worrkk pls leave feedback if youd like it helps a ton!! :3

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘˗ˏˋ ˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚ ˎˊ˗∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

The day John Dory met you and Rhonda was simultaneously one of the worst and best days of his life.

He'd been hiking- nothing out of the ordinary for him, maybe one venomous spider he'd had to fight off, but so far so good! The sting of the cold air against his cheeks quelled his thoughts, made him feel accomplished, in a way.

But he must've been distracted- he was a little more careless than usual, overestimating his own strength and struggling to pull himself upwards, his legs dangling over the edge- he could feel a tick of nerves in the back of his mind, but pfftt, John Dory's got this! He's done this a million times-

Next thing he knows, the rock holding his legs up collapses, and down he goes with it, tumbling over harsh terrain while the wind rushing past his ears drowns out his yelling.

After many very painful seconds of straight up rolling down this cliff, John Dory groans in pain, dusting himself off and pushing himself upwards, except- oh, shit, okay, ow, something’s very wrong with his ankle.

He hisses and grabs onto the skin, pulling his goggles up to inspect it- it appears swollen, and he realises with a frustrated groan that he'd managed to twist his ankle miles away from the nearest safe-house.

Well- looks like he'll have to camp outside for the night, wouldn't be the first nor last time, but it'll be significantly more difficult with a leg that refuses to cooperate with you.

He rushes through setting up camp, wanting to just sleep the pain off till his foot got better, but just as he sets his head down on the pile-of-leaves-that-vaguely-resemble-a-pillow, he hears distant rustling.

That's not odd- it'd be weirder for the forest to be quiet, if anything, animals are always trudging along no matter the time of day- what's odd is how loud the sound is, feet papping against the floor in heavy strides, coming closer and closer towards him.

John Dory sits up in a flash, suddenly regretting how shittily he'd camouflaged his camp- his eyes widen towards the oncoming noise, having just enough time to snatch a stick and hold it out threateningly, though his hands shake and tremble.

“Hey! I have a- uh, a really sharp stick, and I'm not afraid to use iiIIITTT-”

The stick goes flying out of his grasp, and he gets the breath absolutely slammed out of him as something huge jumps onto him, rumbling atop him and- eugh, was it licking him?! Was this how he died, after all these years?! Eaten alive by a-

“Down, girl- stop that, you're scaring him!” the thing finally lets up on trying to swallow him whole, standing back on its hind-legs and cooing at you excitedly, and it's then that he notices you.

“Gods, I'm really sorry- she's not usually like this-” you reach over with a grimace to wipe the wet mess of saliva and glitter off his cheeks with your sleeve, and all JD can do is stare at you, star-struck. One minute he was facing his impending doom, and now he was facing the prettiest person he'd ever set his eyes on, and though he's certain it's night time he feels as though you're shining the sun's rays straight at him.

You smile nervously and pat his attacker's leg, “She wasn't actually going to eat you- or at least I don't think she was? You can never quite tell with Rhonda.”

Okay, John Dory had lived on his own amongst nothing but the trees and mountains for years, so excuse him for not being particularly eloquent when all he blurts out is “John.”

You and Rhonda blink at him comically for a moment, and he feels his cheeks flush under his fur-lined vest. No one's ever caught him off gaurd like this before.

“That's…not my name, but good guess anyways.” You check over him as if he's concussed, and he tries not to frown at the scrunch in your nose as you take in his camp.

“It's my name- John Dory.” He flashes you a charming smile, though he assumes the effects are dampened by the mess of glitter and dirt still smeared across his face, “and can I get yours, or can I just call you mine?”

Silence stretches on between you both, his smile getting more strained by the minute- why hadn't that worked? That always worked, at least when Spruce did it! You were supposed to be- swooning, or something! Not looking at him like he's sprouted a second head!

You cut through the tension with a gasp, and he follows your gaze down to his badly-damaged leg, now with extra bloodied scrapes, “Oh god, that looks rough- did Rhonda do this?” He doesn't have time to tell you that no, actually, it wasn't your fault, when you turn around and scold your…armadillo? He feels his lips quirk up- you looked pretty cute like that, like a disgruntled parent.

“Well, you can come inside and I'll wrap it up for you- you shouldn't leave it out in the open like that.” You wave him over, grabbing onto his hand to pull him into the door, and he feels his skin burn pleasantly where you both touch.

And that's how it starts. JD walks inside the armadillo bus, Rhonda, marvelling at the warmth. Though you hadn't given him your name yet, he felt as though he could trust you- you seemed like someone who values honor and helping others, however bluntly or awkwardly you may go about it.

You wrap his leg with gauze and a healing salve, and he fills the room with chatter- it'd been so long since he'd last seen another soul, he didn't realise just how…lonely he'd felt. You don't speak much of yourself, probably staying cautious, but you do seem curious about his stories, and the twinkle in your eye urges him to speak with a little more pomp than usual.

Your voice turns more concerned as you ask what he'd been doing camping out in the open like that- he'd told you of the trail he planned to follow, though he'd skipped the part where he fell off-course. He tells you of how he'd wanted to end up somewhere warmer by the time winter really hit, sighing to himself. “I'll just have to stock up on fire-wood, maybe invest in a flame-thrower.”

“I mean….we can take you there.” You offer in a quiet voice, your gaze stubbornly set on the floor, “It's still a pretty long drive, but better than 2 months walking on a sprained ankle, especially with how gnarly it looks.”

John Dory's conflicted- the offer sounds heavenly. He pictures waking up to your warmth day by day, helping you gather breakfast, travelling with a companion, for once, but….he'd left to the middle of nowhere for a reason. He wanted to distance himself from his old habits, his old expectations of himself and others.

Though….you seemed to be just as- if not more- capable than him. He wouldn't need to be a pillar for you to lean all your weight against, nor the pressure that turns coal into shining diamond- you two could simply…have each other's backs. Maybe…maybe this could work out, at least for a little while.

John Dory tilts his head up and takes one look at your welcoming smile to make up his mind.

"Can't say no to your pretty face, now can I?"

This time you snicker behind your hand at his awful flirting, but he catches it just in time- and he knows this'll be the start of something great.

#john dory x reader #trolls #trolls x reader #trolls john dory x reader #x reader #ok sorry I dont like putting stuff in main tags </3 thats it for tags #starzwrites #PLS LEAVE FEEDBACK IT HELPS A LOT !!#i hope this was enjoyable even tho it was shorter than I wanted :[ had to split into 2 parts ....

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vbecker10 · 14 days

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Could I request headcanons (or a little scenario if that's what you'd prefer) for loki befriending the new member of their team that can turn into a huge bear and she's used as their heavy hitter in fights but since a bear's sense of smell and hearing is much more sensitive than humans she has a tendency to get bad sensory overloads even in casual settings and shifting between forms sometimes leaves her in pain and just basically how they would bond over time and help her through her struggles. Thanks!

Help you Bear It

(I'm not proud of this pun but @soubi001 will be lol)

Pairing: Loki x female reader (Y/N)

Summary: As the newest member of the Avengers, you are desperate to prove yourself as a heavy hitter who can keep the others safe. You hide the pain you feel when shifting between your human and bear form during training sessions but while you are on your first mission in the field, Loki knows something is wrong. He tries to support you through your shift back to being human and is curious as to why you fight through the pain when you could just never shift again.

Warnings: fighting, minor injuries, anxiety, some sensory issues, pain when shifting forms, feeling useless, feeling like a monster, abandonment issues - don't worry, Loki is super comforting, fluff at the end

A/N: I'm so so sorry it took me forever to get to this request. I'm finally going through my requests and I thought this idea was super interesting. I sort of ran with it a bit so I hope you don't mind if it's a little different from your ask. Thank you for sending it! I hope you like it! 💚

lille bjørn - little bear in Norwegian (I asked Google so hopefully that's right lol)

You roar loudly, standing tall on your hind legs as Steve spins and throws his shield towards you. Swinging one of your massive claws, you easily swipe it from the air and send it to the ground with a heavy thud. Your attention is pulled from the Captain by the sound of Clint unleashing a series of arrows in your direction. Running on all fours, you avoid being struck as you close the distance between you and Steve.

Without his shield, Steve has little choice but to turn and run from you, hoping one of the others will distract you until he is armed again. Your head turns towards the sound of another series of arrows leaving Clint's bow and you easily change course. Out of the corner of your eye, you see a flash of red and know the God of Thunder has joined the fight. Your attention now shifts to finding Thor, you take a sniff of the cool air and growl when you catch his scent.

Stalking slowly to the tree he is hiding against, you keep one ear open listening to Steve's footsteps through the tall grass. Just as you reach the tree, another arrow zings past you and you stand on your hind legs for a better view of its origin. You finally see the archer, hidden in the thick leaves of a tree several yards away. He is too far for you to do anything at the moment but at least you've located him. Now back to the god and super soldier, you think, your lips curling to show your sharp teeth.

Lightning cracks overhead and the fur around your neck stands up in response, you let out a low growl. The thunder that follows is not enough to hide Steve's approach from behind and you turn to face him. Again, he throws his shield at you with as much force as he can but you swipe it away, embedding it into a nearby tree. With a roar, you charge forward but at the last second, you turn to your left just in time for Thor to land before you, his red cape fluttering around him in the breeze.

He dodges your charge, leaping out of the way but not in time. You reach for him with one of your large claws and pull him back to the ground by his ankle. He swears loudly in Asgardian as you slam him down on his back but before you can continue your attack, you hear Steve pull his shield free from the tree. Three more arrows fired in quick succession soar towards you, you swerve through them and keep your attention fixed on the Captain. Roaring as you run to meet him, he throws his shield for a third time and for a third time you cast it away.

He stands in front of you, ready to continue the fight without any weapons. You growl as your heavy frame collides with him and you send him backwards onto the ground. You rear up, ready to pin the barely conscious Captain America but your ears perk up, alerting you to the electricity in the air. You quickly lower yourself to be on all fours and move away from him just before lightning strikes where you had been. Thor once more lands just behind you, Mjolnir spinning by the leather handle. He charges towards you and you run to meet him.

You rear up on your hind legs, narrowly avoiding being hit by Mjolnir as Thor releases it. Before it can return to him, you throw your weight forward and force him to the ground on his back causing him to miss catching it. It slams through a tree and buried itself into the ground in a hail of splinters. You loom over Thor, your paws pinning him to the dirt as you roar inches from his face.

He looks up at you then yells, "I yield! I yield."

You sit back immediately and the forest around you fades away. Stark white tiles replace the lush grass, the sun brightens into a row of LED lights on the high ceiling and the sound of birds is turned off. You look to your left and watch the rest of the team applaud and cheer your final test through the floor to ceiling glass wall.

Loki cheers the loudest as the replay of you slamming Thor into the ground is shown on a loop on one of the monitors. "That's how it feels!" he says excitedly, getting up from his seat. He laughs to himself and ignores the judgmental looks from Tony and Fury.

You walk over to Steve and nudge him lightly with your nose as he stands slowly. "I yield too," he says with a light laugh, rubbing the back of his head with one hand and the top of your head with his other hand. "Good job, Y/N," he smiles.

You lay down and rest near the rear of the training room, watching the team leave as they talk and laugh with each other. As soon as the door shuts and the room is empty, you close your eyes and with a deep breath you begin to focus on shifting to your human form. The process is extremely painful and you've been told it's hard to watch so you plan on sparing the others from witnessing it for as long as possible.

You lift your head, suddenly feeling as if someone is in the room with you but as your shift progresses, your senses are overwhelmed and hard to control. With a final roar of pain fading into a groan of agony, you kneel on the floor, fully human again and exhausted.

On shaky legs, you walk over to where you left your backpack and sit heavily on the floor, resting your back against the wall. You grab a bottle of water, drinking the whole thing at once then tear open your protein bar. Your ear twitches and you look up, the feeling of being watched returns. You catch a faint green mist settling near the door but you shake your head when you don't see anyone, assuming your simply exhausted and take a bite of your protein bar.

The next morning you sit between Loki and Steve on the jet, heading to your first mission. Your leg bounces nervously and you chew on your lip until Steve taps your shoulder and pulls you from your anxious thoughts.

"Try to relax," he says in a brotherly tone.

You nod but continue to bounce your leg which happens to be resting against Loki's.

"Will you please stop that," he Loki says few minutes later. You instantly stop moving your leg and make eye contact with the God of Mischief.

"Sorry," you mumble and look down quickly. You place your hands on your knees and take a deep breath to try and calm your nerves.

"Thank you," he says calmly as he lowers his eyes back to his book.

"Almost there," Natasha calls over her shoulder from the pilot's seat of the jet.

"Great, thanks Nat," Steve responds as he gets up. "You ready?" he asks, standing over you.

"Mmhmm," you nod. You force yourself to keep your eyes on Steve as you feel Loki's eyes fix on you.

"Are you going to..." Steve waves his hand vaguely at you.

"Shift?" you guess and he nods. "Uh... yea, I mean not right now though," you let out a nervous laugh. "Having a bear on a jet doesn't sound like a great idea right? I'll do it when we land."

"Makes sense," Steve agrees easily with a shrug and leaves you to take the copilot seat next to Natasha.

Loki leans towards you and in a hushed voice says, "Remember to stay calm, lille bjørn. You bested my brother and the captain. You will do well today."

You look up at him but his eyes have returned to his book. "Thanks," you tell him, feeling both stunned by his compliment and a bit more confident. He nods in response and you think you see a faint smile on his lips but he doesn't look up until Steve tells you both you will be landing in five minutes.

"We need to get to the computers they have in basement," Steve says as he catches his shield, spins and sends it flying down the hallway again.

Loki raises his hand and with a green glow, throws three Hydra soldiers into a wall, knocking them unconscious. "Y/N and I can hold them back while you and Widow retrieve the files," Loki offers as he sends two more soldiers flying towards you.

You roar in agreement as you turn your attention to the men Loki sent your way. You pin one to the ground and bite his shoulder before swiping the other across the chest with your claw.

"Sounds like a plan," Natasha says as she follows Steve to the door leading to the stairwell.

Loki creates two duplicates, each armed with daggers to block the path to the door. You turn then rear up on your hind legs and slam a soldier to the ground before he is able to take a shot at Loki.

"Nicely done, lille bjørn," he smiles before a duplicate throws a dagger at another Hydra soldier standing behind you.

Fifteen minutes later, Loki's radio crackles with static and he groans in annoyance as he tries to adjust it with one hand while sending a soldier into a wall with his other hand. "Repeat that captain," he says into the radio.

You lift your head to look towards Loki, your paws resting on the chest of the man pinned under you. More static comes through the radio and Loki looks at you with a shrug, his duplicates vanishing as the hallway seems to be empty. In an instant, you move off the soldier you have on the ground and charge towards Loki.

"What-" he tries to ask as you pass him, grabbing the soldier behind him by the neck and bringing him to the ground. You turn your head to look at Loki over your shoulder and he opens his mouth to speak but the radio crackles again.

"Loki-" Steve's voice can barely be heard over the static. "Run- detonated-"

"We can't understand you," Loki says, you can hear the concern in his voice as you walk towards him on all fours. You lift your head and sniff the air, drawing Loki's attention. "What's wrong Y/N?" he asks even though he's knows you can't answer him.

"You need to leave-" Steve's voice comes through clearer. "They detonated the self-destruction protocol! The stairwell is blocked-" the static returns. "Natasha and I-" he cuts out. "We're almost out but you need to leave!"

Your ears perk as a faint beeping grows steadily louder and you can no longer smell any approaching Hydra soldiers. You nudge Loki hard with your nose and force him to start moving, guiding him back the way you had entered the base. You can hear the count down clock but have no way of letting Loki know how little time is left. He runs next to you, relying on your sense of smell to track the multiple hallways you had followed to lead you this deep into the building.

You suddenly realize there isn't enough time for you to reach the exit, the building is going to come down around you both. You stop short in front of one of the containment labs and Loki nearly runs into you.

"Y/N, what are you doing?" he asks. You stand on your hind legs and push him into the room. He staggers backwards and catches his balance before he falls. "We need to-" you interrupt his words by slamming your paw into the control panel, causing the large metal door to slam shut.

A moment later the building shakes violently and you position yourself over Loki to protect him from falling debris. Alarms blare as the explosion rips through the base and you close your eyes. When you open them again, there is dust in the air and sparks fly from torn cables and wires in the ceiling. You quickly move yourself away from Loki and he looks at you in stunned silence.

Loki gets up, dusting himself off before he moves to the metal door. You slowly walk to a nearby wall and lay down on the ground to rest. He tries to open the door but between the broken control panel and the damage it sustained during the blast, it's no use. He sits next to you, his back against the wall as the radio sparks to life.

"You guys ok?!" Steve asks in a frantic voice.

"We are unharmed," Loki confirms then he looks at you. "Y/N found us somewhere to be protected from the blast but unfortunately we seem to be stuck."

You hang you head in exhaustion and listen to them talk.

"Nat called Tony and the rest of the team. They're on their way but it could be a few hours until we can get you out," Steve tells him. "Just hang tight."

Loki rolls his eyes and sets down the radio, keeping his eyes on you, he says, "Looks like we may be here a while."

You nod in agreement but barely move. You have never been in your bear form for this long before nor have you spent this long constantly fighting and running. You rest your head on your paws and close your eyes.

"Maybe you should become human again," he suggests. "Not that you are not wonderful company as a bear, but you are a bit easier to talk to when you can actually... well talk." He laughs lightly at the last part.

You lift your head to look at him but lower it again slowly. As much as you need to shift back to your human form, you are almost too tired to even think of the pain that awaits you. You know the longer you wait to shift, the worse the pain will be but you just want to sleep.

You finally give into him and push yourself up on all fours, walking away from him with your head hung low. He stays where he is, watching you closely. When you look over your shoulder he lowers his gaze to the floor but not before you see the concern in his eyes.

He is quiet for a moment and says, "I won't watch, if that is what is stopping you." You shake your head no and he sighs. "Do you not want to shift because of how torturous it seems?" You nod without looking at him, unsure how he figured it out when the rest of the team is still in the dark. "Y/N, you are clearly exhausted," he says, touching your fur gently. "You should shift back so you can rest. This form is taking a heavy toll on you."

You move as far from him as you can in the confined space. Closing your eyes, you begin to focus on your breathing, drawing in slow deep breaths as you start the excruciating process of shifting. Your bones feel as if they are breaking and splintering as they shrink to fit your smaller human form. Your muscles ache and cramp from overuse as your extraordinary strength fades away. A growl of pain escapes you as your joints crack and force your body into a more human-like position on your knees.

You curl up in a near fetal position as your body returns to its human form but your senses remain that of a bear. Covering your ears with your hands, you desperately try to block out the smallest sounds which are now amplified. The faint buzzing of the remaining overhead lights, the soft static of Loki's radio, the sparks from the frayed wires. Squeezing your eyes shut, you attempt to protect yourself from how bright the room suddenly seems even thought most of the lights are broken. The smell of smoke, sweat and blood fills your nose and you can do nothing to stop it. You cry out in pain, wishing it would end and all at once, it does.

You try to take a slow, deep breath and are surprised at how easily your lungs open to take in the air. Your heart rate slows and you push yourself into a seated position on the dust covered floor. The sounds and smells that overwhelmed you only seconds ago are gone and you immediately know why.

Loki kneels on the ground in front of you, his eyes locked on yours. A bright green glow emanates from his hands and surrounds you, easing your pain and calming your senses. "Is this helping?" he asks in a low voice and you nod, trying to hold back your tears.

"Why didn't you tell me or anyone else how excruciating this is for you?" he asks, his voice full of worry as he lowers his hands.

You answer quietly, "I can't." Loki is the first person you have allowed to see you shift in almost ten years and it makes you feel vulnerable. You try to stand, wanting to be alone but it's too soon after your shift and you lose your balance.

He catches you in his arms and helps you sit against the wall, your legs still shaking. He sets himself next to you and you lift your head as he waves his hand with another green flourish. "Eat, lille bjørn," he says gently as he hands you a protein bar and sets a bottle of water next to you.

You take a bite of the protein bar and realize it is the one you brought with you. Almost to yourself you say, "I left these on the jet."

"I took your bag," he says as your backpack appears next to him.

"Why?" you take another bite, too tired and hungry to be as annoyed as you want to be at the knowledge that he took your things.

He shifts, crossing his legs as he rubs his hands together, his eyes focused on them. "I knew you would need them. I saw you... in the gym after your final test," he admits and your heart plummets realizing what he saw.

"You saw me...?" you echo his words.

"I didn't mean to," he assures you quickly but it does little to ease your discomfort. You were embarrassed enough that he watched you shift when you knew he was here but for him to have seen you without you knowing was almost to much. He wipes away a tear as it runs down your cheek. "I'm sorry," he says but you don't respond. "I had forgotten something in the training room and when I saw you on the ground like that... I was afraid you were hurt in the fight, you seemed to be in so much pain."

"It wasn't from the fight," you say quietly but you know he already knows that.

"How can you continue to shift when it is so obviously painful for you?" he asks genuinely curious. You ignore his question and finish your bottle of water as he makes a second appear. "You should tell them how hard this is for you," he continues. "You know they would understand if you had to stop."

"No. I can't tell them," you argue quietly and he sighs. "I need to shift. It's hard to explain but... I have to prove that when I'm a bear I can protect my friends and keep the team safe. I have to show everyone that I'm not..." you pause and Loki shifts closer to you, his arm wraps around your shoulder as he gently pulls you towards him. "I need to prove I'm not a monster," you finish, looking down as you bring your knees to your chest.

"Who in this realm could possibly think someone as kind and protective as you could be anything close to a monster?" he asks, his voice laced with true shock. "And that is coming from someone who has quite a lot of experience with the term," he adds trying to ease the tension you feel.

You look up at him and he wipes away another tear. You close your eyes and rest your head against his chest for a moment while you gather your thoughts. He sits quietly, letting you take as much time as you need, his fingers slowly move up and down your arm.

Keeping your eyes closed, you lean into Loki's comforting touch and decide to tell him something you've only ever told one person almost 20 years ago. "The first time I shifted... I was ten," you tell him and he continues to hold you close as you open your eyes.

"My class went on a field trip to the zoo. I remember being so excited that morning," you tell him with a faint smile that fades as you continue. "We spent all day there... my mom even chaperoned," he shifts a bit so he can look at you curiously. "Sometimes parents would come to help the teacher keep track of all the students," you explain and he nods without a word.

"We got to the grizzly bear exhibit and..." you shake your head as the memories flood back. "I don't know how it happened, I didn't mean to but I somehow shifted. I remember pain, excruciating pain and then everyone was screaming. I tried to talk, to tell them it was just me but all I could do was growl. The other students in my class were terrified of me. Everyone was running from me, the students, the teacher, the other parents."

"What about your mother?" he asks.

"My mom..." you say slowly and Loki senses your hesitation. He waits patiently for you to continue, he places a gentle kiss on the top of your head and you look up at him, surprised by the gesture. He gives you a small smile but you can tell he seems worried about his question.

"My mom was so scared," you confirm his fears. "I tried to talk to her, I tried to ask her what was happening because I was scared too but it only came out as roars and growls. She kept moving away from me. I just wanted a hug..." you shake your head and begin to cry more freely. "I scratched her face with my claw when I reached for her then one of the zookeepers came running to... to protect her from me."

"Your mother left you there?" you can hear the anger in his voice.

Loki easily pulls you onto his lap and you turn your face so you can bury yourself against his chest. He rubs your back gently and you sit up after a moment, wiping your eyes. You look up at him and continue, needing to finish. "He shot me with a dart or something, I guess," you shrug. "I woke up a few hours later. It was dark outside and I was human again but I was trapped alone in a small cage. I screamed for I don't know how long but no one came."

You nod, "The next morning someone from Xavier's School for Gifted Youngsters came to pick me up. I never saw my parents again after that. I swear never meant to hurt my mom or scare anyone... I was just so afraid and no one could understand me, no one wanted to help."

He hugs you close and you cling to him, "I'm so sorry my lille bjørn." He touches your cheek gently and lifts your head so you are looking at him. "I understand more than most your desire to not be seen as a monster but I want you to know I never saw you in that light. No one on the team could possibly think you are anything other than amazing and if they do, I will personally set them straight about the matter," he says and you feel a smile creep across your lips. He strokes your cheek and says, "I know it will be pointless to continue to plead with you to stop shifting..."

You nod in agreement and quickly sit up, "I can manage the pain. It only hurts for a little while I promise." He looks concerned still and you add, "Please don't tell the team."

"I know this is something you think you need to do," you nod again. "And I will not tell them under one condition," he says calmly. His fingers lift your chin so you are looking into his eyes. "You have to promise you will let me help you," he says.

"Like you did before?" you ask, referring to when he held back your pain after shifting.

You nods, "I can dull your pain and dampen your senses as you shift. You are too sweet and caring to experience something so horrific for simply trying to help others."

"My little bear," he says as his radio crackles and Steve announces the team will have you both out in half an hour.

You blush at his words but he doesn't let you hide your face as he asks, "Do we have a deal?"

"Its a deal," you laugh quietly.

He smiles and pulls you against his chest again, kissing your forehead lightly. You giggle and look up at him suddenly wishing he would kiss your lips. As if he heard your thoughts, his hand finds your cheek again and he gently brings his lips to yours. "My lille bjørn," he calls you as you rest with your arms around him.

"What does that mean?" you finally ask.

I hope you liked this!! Please like, share and comment if you did 💚💚 Please let me know if you want to be added to my taglist!

@soubi001 @mochie85 @lokiswife-dark-fox-queen @animnerd @cabingrlandrandomcrap @icytrickster17 @lokisgoodgirl @mischief2sarawr @stupidthoughtsinwriting @mjsthrillernp @holdmytesseract @lulubelle814 @goblingirlsarah @im-briana-stan @foxherder @alexakeyloveloki @siconetribal @lokidokieokie @kneelingformyloki @jiyascepter @eleniblue @loreniscrying @muddyorbsblr @alyeskathewave @loz-3 @firedrakegirl @javagirl328 @princess-ofthe-pages @morally-grey-variant

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diejager · 6 months

Note

what would eldritch reader vs some other eldritch person look like?

[A cheese wheel has been added to your inventory.]

[A cheese wheel has been consumed.]

Opposition Cw: blood, gore, death, cannibalism?, tell me if I missed any.

Despite old-age rivalries and ancient hostilities, to fight a Lord for One’s territory, the bloodshed and animosity shared between many, and the death of a ruling, primordial being, they had forgone the older ways, taken to learn and study humans and monsters alike, especially the sudden emergence of hybrids, a perfect cross between human and monster, one that rivalled the flawlessness of Old Ones. You were one of those that sought change, to live and prosper farther than in their imagination, their faith and their fear. You wanted something substantial, tangible under your clawed, see thing you could taste and touch, more than the pleas and cries.

Most had left their territory, travelling wherever the wind blew, some ventured far and high, drifting from the country they were born to new colonies —the Caribbean or the Thirteen Colonies in the West of the great Monopolies of the 17th centuries. You rarely strayed outside familiar lands, presiding over a small stretch of land in Europe, it was familiar, comfort. It was a decision many agreed with, those you crossed would peer at you, a subtle nod of their head and they’d be gone, vanishing when someone broke your contact; gone along the wind, leaving only a whisper of their existence in monstrous words too high for human and monster ears.

Perhaps that’s why it felt odd to fight another one after centuries of peaceful coexistence, to throw yourself into the fray, broad and towering over the trees, beak snapping at the canidae entity and talons gripping their paws, claws threatening to rip into your feathered body. You felt stretched, rusted with joints creaking and bones groaning, too old and too tired. This Entity was young, a few centuries old, with a wolf-like appearance and a character that fit a mutt more than it would a being of such prestige. They were chaotic, acting recklessly and without thought, you needn’t ask it their age, it was written all over the scarless skin and brutish acts.

Rather than fighting for land, coveting wealth and fine metals that humans loved with greedy hands, you took on the wolf for protection, the ward of your small family, under a dozen with years of bloodshed and violence under their belt. The 141 had a mastery in different skills, utilizing what they did best to push on, to fight and survive to see the next sunrise, but even hybrids had limits, where their great feats and insurmountable reputation were useless against something of old; be it young or primordial, Eldritch beings had little predator, prey to their own kind but rarely from another.

You clashed with the Wolf, standing on muscular, hind legs ruffled with dirtied fur, blood staining the greyish hair; a strong tail swaying carelessly, cutting trees down with a rough swing; a well-defined abdomen painted with a tribal tattoo, gleaming with a gold light, portraying the image of a holy symbole on a blasphemous being; sculpted arms holding back your own feathered ones, hands bleeding from your talons; and a wide mouth, silver teeth bared in a loud growl, the sound near deafening to you. It was strong and well-trained for something born in times of peace, body built to it’s peak and mind sharpened to ignore every distraction, but you were from the old, racking up more experience and wisdom it could only dream of wielding.

You were defending the LZ, standing between the Wolf and it’s mission of killing those it could kill, beings weaker than it. The only thorn in their mission was you, the lone Entity that engaged it. The Wolf hadn’t been told that the TF had an Old One, primeval in every sense. It struggled against you, your more monstrous figure compared to their tamed one, their creation stemming from some wild fantasy of the Middle Ages, when France feared the human eating wolf.

You screeched as loudly as it growled, voice gaining in force, a cacophony of screams and cries slipping from your tongue, the fears and terror of beings that brought you to life. Spreading your second pair of limbs, you slashed at it, digging into the soft skin of it’s abdomen, tearing away fibres of muscle and warm fat. It yowled, struggling to pull away, frantic at your shift of tactic —fearful that you decided to attack than defend your group. It stood on the single probability that you wouldn’t engage, preferring to protect than fight with the risk of endangering your family.

The Wolf would die today. Your grip was unyielding, keeping it in this situation however much it tried to squirm away, hands prisoners of your first pair of wings and chest bleeding from your second. Before long, it would be another body added to your count, cooling and gutted on the forest ground. You swung your tail around them, wrapping once around their slim waist, adding further leverage over it while you dug their intestines out. The strong stench of blood, metallic and tempting, filled the air, bringing fearful tears to the Wolf’s eyes, beady, yellow eyes growing hazy.

You revelled in it’s slow death, your thirst for violence growing with the ages of peace, strung tight like an itch that bothered you incessantly. You hungered, you couldn’t remember the taste of Eldritch meat, the rich ambrosia in the veins or the last whip of their dying breath. Your beak cracked open, white teeth gleaming inside your black mouth until they were dirtied, stained red with the blood of an Entity, you clamped down on it’s neck, breaking the rough skin with enough force to shatter bone, but the Wolf had tough bone. That would only prolong it’s suffering, the pain feeding you as much as the meat and bone would —a delicacy of the ages. You wonder how König and Ghost would think of Eldritch flesh.

You wouldn’t need to eat for another month after this buffet.

Taglist: @warenai @capricorn-anon @sae1kie @yeoldedumbslut @tallmanlover @distracteddragoness @vxnilla-hxrddrugs @konigsblog @havoc973 @im-making-an-effort @daisychainsinknots @0alk0msan @danielle143

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grippingbeskar · 1 year

Note

Ok so, i ADORE your writing and i wanted to submit a request for a joel miller x reader fic ^^

Specifically its the readers first time out of the qz since 2004, she snuck out on her own and was found by joel in the woods. She slightly pisses him off because she can be somewhat annoying but he eventually falls for her! You can go anywhere you want with it but please add that she calls joel “cowboy” bc i find that to be so cute

warnings: swearing, slight mention of past violence

a/n: okay this isn’t edited but i wrote it all in one go cause it’s so damn cute. i couldn’t help it. thank you for sending this in!!! i hope you like it! clearly i needed a lil fluff now that there’s no more tlou eps so i hope it’s what u wanted 😭

“You’re gonna get yourself killed.” Joel’s gruff voice growls from behind you. “Stop moving.”

“Stop talking! You’ll scare it!” You whisper-yell back, scootching your body forward on the rock. “Oh, you have to come down here.”

“I’m not gettin’ anywhere near that thing.” Joel huffs, and you roll your eyes, unable to bother with a reply when you can see what you can in front of you.

A bear. A giant, fluffy, brown bear. Standing on its hind legs, clawing at a tree trying to get… something down off the branch. It’s the first time you’ve seen a bear. The first time you’ve seen anything alive bigger than a dog. It’s massive.

“Joel, come on! Look at how adorable it is!” As much as he complains, you can hear him groan as he leans down, knees cracking and breath puffing out in clouds. He eventually crawls up next to you, the broad length of his body pressing against your side on the narrow face of the rock.

The bear was now rubbing its back on the newly scratched bark, roaring quietly as it yawns. The sun was shining seamlessly through the trees, and the forest was just starting to lose the heavy layer of snow that had built up over the winter. Warmth flooded your body from your toes to your ears, but you couldn’t figure out if it was the rising sun or the way Joel had sidled up a little closer, craning his neck so he could see, too.

He leans to the right, squinting into the open forest, and yes— it was definitely just Joel making you sweat.

“See? Cool, right?” You say softly, keeping your eyes on Joel’s reaction. It had taken so long for him to speak to you in any capacity, let alone indulging your curiosity with something like this. You were still hesitant to upset him, or piss him off, but he didn’t seem to be either of these things much anymore. At least, not directed at you.

“Yeah, alright. It’s pretty cool.” He admits, watching as the bear roars a little louder. All of a sudden, three tiny balls of fluff crawl out of a hollow log and begin to roll around in the melting snow.

Your face lights up, you can tell it does. Your grin stretches across your face embarrassingly big, but— “Oh my god. Baby bears. Freakin’ baby bears, Joel!”

He laughs quietly, and you can feel his eyes on you, but you don’t dare move. Even though him staring at you burns you enough you’d swear it wasn’t winter, you keep your eyes forward. The last thing you want to do is scare him off— not when he’s the closest he’s ever been.

You know he wouldn’t feel the same, but it was impossible not to have some kind of feeling for him. He was practically a knight in shining armour to you— without him, you would of died the day you snuck out of the QZ. But there he was, scowling and buried under layers of warmth, layers he’d reluctantly shared with you until you could feel your fingers again. He’d saved you, and you had fawned over him ever since.

He was definitely not on the same page— it was only in the last few months that he’d learned to tolerate you, and somehow it was only making your crush worse. Those famous scowls turned to smirks and hidden smiles, and harsh words melted away into something like fondness. You could hear the care behind the orders he gave you. “Don’t do that” shifted into “Its not safe.” “Shut up” was whispered into a soft “Shh. Listen.”

It might not seem like a lot, but in terms of Joel, it was miles.

The bears continued to roll around, play-fighting while their mother wandered further over to the rushing lake. You shivered as the sun disappeared behind the clouds, and Joel’s hand tugged at your jacket.

“Come on. We gotta get moving.” You sighed, but still smiled as the smallest of the bears attempted to climb a tree, and fell off with a ‘plop’ into the snow. “You’ll be warmer if we’re moving.”

“Just a little longer. Look at him!” The bears continue to fight their way up the tree unsuccessfully, and you wait for Joel to move away. You silently beg him not to, and maybe it works, because he keeps still. No, not still.

Blink and you miss it, but you don’t. You feel him move— just an inch, but he comes closer to you. Touching you all down your side. It stops your shivering, and you find it very, very hard to focus on the bears.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

“Just a little longer. Look at him!” You laugh lightly, your head facing forward in the direction of the bears. Joel can’t take his eyes off you, no matter how cute some bears might be. It was humiliating. He couldn’t take his eyes off you for a second, not when you were this close, smiling and laughing. You made him feel… good. Warm. Made him forget where he was for a second. It was dangerous and stupid, but he still didn’t take his eyes off you.

He moved closer under the guise of keeping you warm, but he noticed the way you hid your face from him. He always noticed. He wasnt game enough to think you wanted him like that, but he knew he had some kind of effect on you. You didn’t want him, but you needed him. He kept you safe, and he thinks that after all this time you, for some god damn reason, cared about him.

He couldn’t tell you why. He was a dick to you ever since he found you. Sure, he’d pulled you out of the snow and warmed you up for three days. Fed you boiled soup and water and made sure you didn’t choke, but he made sure you paid for it when you woke up. He was colder than the snow outside, sometimes straight up ignoring you when you asked him dumb questions.

He felt guilty now, thinking back, but he was in a bad place. It was dark without you, but since you’d wormed your way into his heart, he could hardly remember what it was like not to have you around. He sure wouldn’t be crammed on a rock watching bears roll around in snow, but he couldn’t think of another place he’d want to be.

“You’re still cold.” Joel says after a while, noticing the way your hands clench and unclench under your gloves. It’s something you’ve done to warm up your fingertips since he’d found you. Your hands get cold first.

“No, I’m not.” You say, eyelashes fluttering rapidly to blink away the fallen snow. “Okay, I am. But where are you gonna see something like this again?!”

“The woods. Where we are gonna walk through for the next two days.” Joel says, and though you stop smiling, you finally turn to look at him. You shake your head, rolling your eyes.

“You cannot tell me that is not the fucking cutest thing you have ever seen. They are rolling around in little balls, Joel. Tiny bears rolling around in the snow!” Your hand grabs his jacket, and he freezes up. You’ve touched him only a few times— times he thinks of far too often, but it still makes him feel like a deer in the damn headlights.

“It’s adorable. Can we move now?” You roll your eyes again, but for some reason you always smile at him after. Like he’s funny or something.

“Fine, but you’re missing out, cowboy.”

“I’m not a cowboy.” He says between huffs as he drags himself upright. He offers you a hand, brushing off the snow from his jacket with the other. You take it, and a rush of heat nearly melts the snow on his head.

“You wore that hat. You’re a cowboy.”

“I wore that one time.” He reminds you to no avail, and you laugh, walking in line next to him.

“It looked good! I think you should lean into it. You got the whole accent going on, and the chivalry act. It’s a winner!” You tuck your arms into the straps of your backpack, your shoulders brushing his. He doesn’t move away.

“Chivalry, huh?”

“You did save my life. Multiple times. And taught me how to shoot a gun.” He scoffs. You thought that was chivalry? Fuck, if only you knew how he’d really treat a woman— how he’d treat you if you aren’t stuck out in these woods.

“Yeah, perfect first date. Learn how to shoot a rusty old rifle.” Joel jokes, and then feels you stop, boots crunching in the snow.

“That was a date?” Wide eyed, you stare up at him, the space between you feeling further than ever and way too close.

“What… I didn’t mean it like—“Joel sighs, taking a step forward. “Thats not what I meant.”

“Oh. Yeah, I knew that.” You shake your head, snow falling off your beanie. It nearly comes loose, and when you walk up next to him, Joel moves before he can think.

He can’t stand that little look in your eye, the one he used to see all the time. It was hurt— hurt caused by him. You’d had enough of that in your life. Joel wasn’t going to be the cause of it anymore. Not when you were the woman he— the woman he cared about.

His hands tug lightly on the sides of your beanie, and you still under him. Your eyes watch him cautiously as he adjusts it on your head and over your ears, and then lets his hands linger. They wander down, still gloved, along your cheeks, wiping away the snowflakes resting on your cheeks. He takes in a breath, and his chest touches yours. When you smile softly, he feels sucker punched, and his hands slowly fall from your face.

“I didn’t mean that.” Joel says in the same low tone he uses when you talk at night, like it’s a secret.

“The date, or the backtracking?” You were still smiling, and it cut Joel up like a blunt knife was searing into his heart. You were fucking painful, but he yearned for it.

“The… both. That— at the time, that wasn’t a date. But that’s not sayin’ I wouldn’t take you on one.” Your face was full of surprise— eyebrows raised and mouth agape. “One with less guns.”

“Joel…” You breathe, and he wishes he kept his hands on your face.

He lets the confession sit, unsure of what to do with himself now he’s put it out there. He’s got two days alone with you in these woods before you reach Tommy, and he’s fucked if he’s gotta deal with your rejection—

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you with less guns.” You say, clearing the distance between you and him in three bounding steps. “I’m excited to see what you come up with, then.”

“You, uh—“

“Though I am expecting you to break out the hat. I want the full experience.” He can hear the smile in your voice, his head dropping down so you can’t see his matching one.

“I’ll make sure I do that, darlin’.” Your breath hitches, and it’s your turn to hide from him.

You both keep walking, though Joel feels himself pressing closer and closer. His heart is racing, and he’s half worried he’s going to pass out, his vision a little blurry. Did he just ask you out? He feels like he missed it. Just blacked out and someone else took over. Not just that, but he thinks you might have just said yes.

“You do look good in that hat. I was serious.” You admit, staring at your boots. Joel feels his face get hot, unfamiliar territory making his hands shake.

“You’re insane.” He manages, and links his hand with yours.

“Whatever you say, cowboy.”

#joel miller x reader #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller x you #joel miller x y/n #joel miller smut #joel x reader #joel x you #joel x y/n #tlou #tlou joel #joel miller fic #joel miller #joel miller fluff

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followthebluebell · 7 months

Note

Do you have any undeniable proof about how in pain Scottish Fold cats are? Someone I know believes that "only bad breeders" produce cats that have pain and I just don't think that sounds right, but I don't know where to look for info.

'Undeniable proof' is a hard claim because anything can be denied if a person is shameless, stubborn, and ridiculous enough. I've had clients deny that their cats are in severe pain even when the animal is visibly limping in front of us.

With that out of the way, start by talking about osteochondrodysplasia. That's a fancy way of saying 'fucked up cartilage disease', which is the thing that gives Scottish folds the cute little folded ears. Unfortunately, it doesn't just affect the cartilage in their ears. There's no gene that says 'please just a LITTLE fucked up cartilage, thanks <3'.

It affects ALL of their cartilage, joints, and bone development. It usually presents in very early onset arthritis: hump-backed, stiff legs (especially hind legs), and kinda 'crankly' feeling bones. They often have very stiff and shortened tails as well. Since they're in pain, they don't jump, move, or play as often. They also may just be kinda cranky because, again. Pain.

This is an autosomal dominant condition, meaning a cat has to inherit just one defective gene to display the traits. It's more severe in cats that are homozygous (inherited BOTH defective genes), but even a heterozygous cat is pretty severely affected.

A 'good' Scottish fold breeder ought to be breeding just straight-eared cats (inheriting 0 genes for this condition), but in practice 'good' SF breeders just breed straight-eared cat to a folded cat in the hopes of producing heterozygous kittens.

I still remember Fédération Internationale Féline (FIFe) and the World Cat Federation (WCF) offering free xrays to around 300 scottish fold breeders, trying to find just ONE fold with healthy hind legs.

Not a single breeder took up the offer. As a result, both organizations refuse to recognize the breed entirely.

The fact that even 'ethical' breeders who supposedly only breed unaffected cats won't stand behind their work and PROVE it speaks volumes.

#it really is a pity because they're very cute cats #but uh yeah #they are definitely in pain #and we can absolutely prove it because well look at them #look at their bones #look at their xrays

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demonic0angel · 2 months

Text

More Jazz Forms (click for clarity)

TW: disturbing content, body horror

1) Head only Jazz

+ She is a head that walks on a bunch of mysterious tentacles. She’s inspired by a CN novel called “Let the Villain Go” in a chapter where a demon pops up and is described as a head that walks on tentacles (I may be delulu and remembered it wrong).

+ Around 900 feet tall. Most of the height is her tentacles, but her head is still around 100 feet tall.

+ Jason is a little obsessed with how huge she is. When he is away, she stays standing over his apartment like a creepy water storage tank. Nobody can see her except liminals and ghosts, so she remains undetected by Jason’s side.

+ She is generally peaceful and doesn’t move much. She is a relatively quiet being with no explicit ability to defend herself or attack. I imagine her to be very dreamy, despite her piercing stare.

2) Celestial Object Jazz

+ She is a quasi-stellar radio source, AKA a quasar :)

+ Impossibly large and infinite. She is so big that her gravitational pull is pulling apart a piece of the universe. Jason thinks that she’s beautiful, and he looks for her every night. He uses special technology to see her on Earth and when he can, he sneaks onto the Watchtower to look at her.

+ The mass of the black hole that she is made of is around 150 billion solar masses. She is located extremely far from the Milky Way within the largest galaxy of the universe. Since she is technically both the black hole and the gas that surrounds it, she won’t be fading for awhile.

+ Her origin is unknown in this idea (but is related to her siblings, who have all become celestial objects themselves). Her existence is extremely old and that is partially Clockwork’s fault.

3) Corrupted Jazz

+ She has become corrupted from years of ectoplasm, death, and generally instability. The tentacles that come from her stomach is actually just pieces of her soul that are trying to reach for others. She calls for help, but no one but Jason has been reaching out.

+ She cannot be around people for too long, or she causes insanity, violent mood swings, headaches, auditory and visual hallucinations, paranoia, nosebleeds, and general weakness, even if they cannot see her. Jason is somewhat resistant to her, but she heavily restrains herself so the effects of her existence won’t hurt him.

+ She tries to stay away from Jason, but bc she’s so clingy, she watches him from a distance. Her presence brings shadows and darkness, so he’s also been getting a reputation of scaring criminals to pissing themselves whenever he comes by.

+ Her body is covered in shadows, but she glows a little from the ectoplasm, so her silhouette can be vaguely seen.

4) Monochrome Jazz

+ Inspired by Lady Dimitrescu and Hachishakusama

+ She dresses in all black and her skin is pale as well. A hat and face mask cover all available skin on her face. Any skin below the neck is also covered.

+ She is around 9 feet tall. She stalks Jason whenever she can and always follows him around. She is extremely hostile and dangerous and does not hesitate to attack when she feels even the slightest bit threatened. She is also completely mute.

+ She is both a ghost and an urban legend, hence why she looks like that. Underneath her mask is a mouth of razor sharp teeth like a moray eel.

5) Wolf Jazz

+ Inspired by Jason’s Red Hood motif that is similar to Little Red Riding Hood. That’s also why I associate Jazz with so many canine themes :)

+ Black fur, several pairs of eyes, and two sets of deformed ears. I am debating whether or not she also has 3 pairs of legs.

+ She follows Jason around like a dog, but does not behave like a pet. As such, he can’t order her around unless she wants to listen to him. Thankfully, she likes cooperating with him and the two of them terrorize the criminals of Crime Alley.

+ She is around 5 feet tall when standing on all fours, but when she stands up on her hind legs, she is around 9 feet tall. She is very fluffy.

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catcrumb · 1 year

Text

CATCRUMB FIELD NOTE 3

(Note 1:)

going out to the grave oak grove today for sediment collection + trap check

arrived at Grave Oak Grove with little incident

sediment churn +2% in shaded grove areas. inhabitants have been raising carrion again

lumch break 12:13

LEAVING EARLY DUE TO ATTEMPTED BURYING. BY NEW BEAST. SKETCH:

[hasty black ink sketch of a dark silhouette of a furred creature with tall ears and a long tail, leaping across the note with paws in front of it]

digging claws, tufted ears, long bushy tail

back in van. can hear it trying to get under hood. car isn't starting

(Note 2:)

It's in

I'm out of the dirt. Night now. Feeling weaker. Tree above me heavy with acorns. Took some for sample. Scratches all over me. Grave dirt everywhere. No sign of the creature but some tracks. [sketch of a paw with visible claw marks]

(Note 3:)

Back at base. Took a nap. Feel a bit better. Can't stand up for long w/o feeling dizzy. Going to spend day analyzing acorns + soil.

Calls aren't connecting. Judging by scratches, might be same beast. Cool cool cool good

Better sketch: [a sketch of the same creature with much more definition, a small oval head and a sloping back, with a curled proboscis under its snout]

Features:

needle proboscis, like an over grown mosquito

muscled powerful forelimbs with massive sharp claws.

hind legs more for jumping.

BIG.

(Note 4:)

Holing up in the attic - figured it'd be better to get away from the ground. Found these notes in the desk up here. Worrying

(Note 5:)

[a blank ink sketch of the same creature but by a different artist this time. it looks similar to the other sketches but there is more definition to it: more fur, more coherency to the way it is shaped. it looks like a creature that can dig and attack. it is labeled "fig 1." a closeup of a curled proboscis is in the corner, labeled "fig 2."]

(Note 6, written in a different hand than the other notes:)

A Tumulus Lynx (Fig 1) bound to the nearby Grave Oak Grove has been stalking the station for the last 6 days. It already made an attempt to bury me beneath the central Grave Oak. I managed to fight it off, but have not gone out since. I'm going to make a break for my jeep at daybreak. Leaving these notes for any future researchers in case I cannot get this station abandoned, whether through the guild's stubbornness or my death. If you see this animal, VACATE ASAP. It will only grow bolder after its first taste of marrow. -- M. Shadow

(Note 7, back to the original hand:)

Going to try and leave at dawn. Can't do much else - don't have any water left. Leaving these with the other notes. -- C. Crumb

#crumb #thanks to my beloved friend (the real M. Shadow) for helping me out :~)#i don't know how/if i should tag this.#unreality #horror #???

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thebellearchives · 2 months

Note

I wish you would write a fic where Inumaki watches non sorcerer!reader from a distance since the Shibuya incident. He’s always there, making sure they’re safe and healing, and reader swears they see his face in passing crowds, passing it off as a coincidence. Until a chance encounter…

𝐂𝐈𝐕𝐈𝐋𝐈𝐀𝐍

~ inumaki toge ; jujutsu kaisen

✧˚ · . S Y N O P S I S : you long for the comfort of the arms of your saviour, until you realize that he might need comfort in your arms instead

‧₊˚ c o n t e n t s : gn!reader, non-sorcerer reader, mutual pining, comfort, mentions of blood, suggested trauma, a little emotional ?, probably inconsistent with the canon shibuya incident-itadori’s extermination transition

‧₊˚ a / n : i started writing and it just kept getting longer and longer and i couldn’t stOP, this one qualifies as hurt-comfort i think? so ill tag it as both fluff and angst oop, hope you like it anon 🫶🏻

Ever since Shibuya nothing has been the same. Debris, cough, grey days, lavender eyes. Fear, panic, emptiness, white hair flowing in the wind. Silence, visions, dark purple fabric. You tell yourself you must be going insane, seeing him around the corners of dark alleys, standing at at the other side of the road outside the store, in the reflections of broken glass on the floor. But you wake up from your bed every night gasping for air, wishing he’d come to your rescue once again, thinking he’d come through your door. Longing to feel in the air that sweet scent of lilies that came from his clothes when he picked you up and took you to safety. To hear once again the hypnotic sound of his voice that saved your life that fateful day.

And as you make your way back to your apartment you hold your things close to your chest. There were many things about the incident that didn’t make sense, the whole situation was just ininteligible to you. The rumbling of the floor and the loud noises, the way things would just hit on the walls or the asphalt around you and not being able to tell where they were coming from. The huge, insect-like monster that stood on its hind legs as it took impulse to lunge forwards and take your life. Until you heard his voice and the monster exploded, fading into thin air just as quickly as it had appeared in front of you. But if none of that had happened, then how did his hands on your shoulders feel so real and warm? The worry in his lovely lilac eyes as he checked that you were in perfect conditions, or the way you could almost swear you could smell the copperish scent of the blood on his lips?

As you walked, you held in your hand the small bottle of cough syrup that he had accidentally left behind that night, the only proof you had that he existed. Your brows furrowed as you stared at the bottle, your steps coming to an end. If you could only see him once more and thank him for saving you, just hold onto him and feel like everything would be okay again…

A sudden movement caught your attention from your peripheral vision. Startled, your eyes drove to a narrow alley to your left, fear almost freezing you in place. But you caught it: a little glimpse of a familiar figure. So the fear turned into anxiety, maybe you were going crazy, or maybe not, but there was only one way to figure it out. Your feet moved almost automatically, sprinting towards the alley.

“Wait!” you voiced, wishing with all your might you were talking to him and not to a panic induced vision.

The figure continued to quickly try and escape by turning into different directions to lose you but it didn’t fade away, so your heartbeat quickened. It was him, it had to be.

“Wait, please! I just wanna talk!” you tried to pick up the pace, but your rushing only made you trip. You hitched a breath and tried not lose balance, looking down by pure instinct, but when you glanced back up he was nowhere to be seen.

Frowning, you started running now. You couldn’t let him go, not when he was so close to you, not when your chance to feel that relief again was escaping like water through your fingers. You turned to your left, right, left… until you were no longer sure where you were at all. The alleys seemed to had turned into a maze at some point with nothing more than trash cans and plastic bags everywhere.

A knot formed in your throat and you could feel tears of frustration gathering at the corners of your eyes. Why did he leave? Didn’t he hear you? Had you really imagined him after all?

A pile of trash fell down somewhere behind you, making you turn around instantly. Your heartbeat quickened in a glint of hope.

“Hello? Are you there?” taking a hesitant step forwards, your eyes tried to scrutinise the scene, trying to catch a glimpse of his figure, maybe his hair, anything.

“Listen, I just want to thank you… I thought…” you stopped yourself for a second, taking another step forwards and a deep breath “i thought i could just have a word with you?”

No response, a pained frown slowly appearing in your face, you bit your lower lip in doubt. Fine, one last try.

“Okay, you don’t have to talk, you don’t have to say anything, I’ll do the talking. But please… just come out, I want to see you.”

Something else fell down behind you, startling you once again and making you turn around in panic. A bad premonition grew in your chest, something wasn’t right. You could now feel it in your bones: you should not be there. And if there was something around it surely wasn’t who you were hoping for.

“What- ? Who’s there? Don’t come close!” you tried to flee, turning towards the direction you had come from.

But you ended up running into something that wasn’t there before, falling down onto the cold hard floor. You looked up just to find a horrid creature. Your eyes widened, panic weakening your legs and a scream getting stuck in your vocal cords. It was so similar to the one monster that had tried to hurt you the night of Shibuya, with dark green skin, multiple arms and eyes. The monster showed a creepy smile, widening its mouth, ready to attack.

You felt your stomach turn, your body trembling and the panic traveling through your body until your survival instinct kicked in. Somehow you managed to stand up and tried to run away, only this time you ran into something else. Or rather someone.

The white haired boy quickly grabbed you by your waist and moved you behind him, shielding you and defiantly glaring at the creature. You felt all your air freeze inside your lungs. He was there, he was real. His white hair was slightly disheveled, his purple jacket had one of the sleeves ripped off and you noticed he was now missing one of his arms. You wanted to speak to him, say anything, but you didn’t even know his name.

The creature laughed, sending a wave of disgust down your spine. Lunging forwards, it extended its arms wide and ready to attack. The boy didn’t hesitate, his powerful voice filling the alley loud and clear.

“Explode!”

The sound waves of his command hit the creature head on, causing a spark of fire to ignite in its skin and suddenly causing an explosion that sent it flying backwards, ripping its skin into shreds and filling the air with ashes and a strange smell of sulfure. You stood there behind him, eyes widened and your jaw dropped, until he suddenly started coughing.

“Are you okay?!” you tried turning him around, but he stopped you and nodded immediately, frowning a little and clearing his throat.

He glanced back at you with concern written all over his eyes. You remembered the last time had saved you and how he had stared at you just like that before holding your face in his hands and your shoulders in search of wounds. And he did just that again. He reached with his hand to cup your cheek, lifting your chin a little to make sure you didn’t have any scrapes or blood, before checking your neck and your arms.

“I’m fine, I’m-” he coughs again, your brows furrow in concern when you catch a glimpse of blood dripping from the corner of his lips “but you’re not, let me help you”

You reach to brush his hair out of his face and clean the blood, but he pulls back slightly. You freeze, and so does he, blinking a little before his eyes go back to yours cautiously.

“I’m sorry, didn’t mean to cross a line” you reply as gently as possible, pulling your hand away before hesitantly taking out the small bottle from your pocket “I have this… will it help?”

His eyes widen a little when he sees the small bottle of cough syrup in your hand and he can’t help but smile slightly. Nodding, he takes it from your hand and drinks it as if it were juice, sighing in relief right after and cleaning the little droplets of blood from his lips with the back of his hand. You take your time to carefully study him, trying to engrave every single detail of his into your brain. The messy rebellious hair strands that refused to go back to their place, the way his long white lashes moved along with his gorgeous lavender eyes and the lines and circles that framed his thin but rosy lips. He looked tired, like he had been fighting for longer than he should have, like he could use some comfort. The comfort that you had found in his arms last time. So when he looks back at you you can’t stop the words from leaving your mouth.

“Would you be okay with a hug?”

He blinked a little in surprise before his tense muscles relaxed slowly and a little smile lifted the corners of his lips. He nods gently again, you smile back in tender concern. Not waiting for anything else you crashed onto him, hugging him tightly. Closing your eyes, you let the warmth of his solid body calm down the still agitated beating of your heart, the worn down scent of lilies you remembered filling your senses once again.

“Thank you” you whispered “for taking care of me all this time”

Sighing, he hugged back, his arm wrapping around your waist and resting his head on yours. Now you knew it: he was real, and you weren’t going to let him go now. Not when both of you were in this dire need from the solace that your closeness brought.

“Always.”

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walnuthillfarm · 11 days

Text

Enhanced Horse Leg Slider

This is a replacement for EA's leg slider (however, you can still use EA's leg sliders!)

This is an all-in-one slider which includes 10 sliders total.

Leg Length (up and down, left view)

Upper Leg Width (left and right, left view)

Hindquarter Size (up and down, right view)

Stifle Size/Placement (left and right, right view)

Knee/Hock Size (up and down, quarter left view) Please see Notes.

Knee Height (up and down, front view)

Hock Height (left and right, front view)

Bum Placement (up and down, back view)

Bum Width (left and right, back view)

Muscle Slider (left, quarter left view)

You can still use EA's leg distance slider and overall leg thickness slider using the quarter right view (please see Notes).

I've done very little testing outside of CAS with this, so please feel free to let me know of any issues you run into! Everything seems to work quite nicely with CAS poses, which is a good sign.

Should anyone else create a leg slider, this mod will NOT be compatible - you will have to decide between them.

Once I have finished more of my planned sliders, I will create a cheat sheet to help you easily remember which view and direction is what slider!

Enjoy!

Update: 06/05/2024 - fixed an issue with the hind hooves floating when shortening the leg length - please redownload!

Update: 07/05/2024 - fixed an issue with the hind legs rotating forward when using poses after extending the leg length - please redownload! This is not a perfect fix, but it is a major improvement - you can use the Hindquarter Size and Stifle Size/Placement sliders to smooth out some of the dips. There is a little bit of distortion with standing poses where the hind legs are further forward. I will continue to work on this slider to get it as close to perfect as possible.

Update: 16/05/2024 - added Muscle Slider.

Notes:

Remember to grab the legs and not the body for these sliders!

When extending or shortening the leg length, the tops of the legs distort and are a little out of place - I spent a very long time on getting this slider to this point, but I may revisit and see if I can improve it in the future. Riding gameplay may also be a little funky with this slider. However, poses will function much the same - a little knowledge of the T.O.O.L mod will help iron out any 'distortion' with those.

I am not 100% happy with the Hindquarter Size slider, and so it may receive an update.

It can be difficult to access the quarter left and right views - you must keep slightly rotating your horse until you find this angle. This can be annoying, but it's the only way to fully maximise the potential of sliders!

Any distortion you may experience with equipment is likely not fixable.

The GIFs help to demonstrate the angle you need to use these sliders, just like any EA ones.

Download - Patreon

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cumikering · 4 months

Text

Werewolf Keegan x reader 2

2.7k | fluff Hey kid, do you like dogs? (part 1) (part 3)

Who knew peanut butter was this delicious?

Keegan wasn’t a fan of it, only eating it for calories, but when he had it as a dog- no, wolf, he thought it was the best thing ever.

On his next trip to the store, he bought five big jars. The expensive kind, because his wolf was sensitive to added chemicals. Which was why he spent that Saturday morning making peanut butter sandwiches, crustless of course, for his solo trip.

There was a growly German Shephard on base called Raider who oddly got along with Keegan. Since being a werewolf, he almost always took the K9 along on his hikes. It was nice to have a doggo to chill with (hint: he couldn’t play tug of war otherwise).

But not this time. He didn’t like sharing his freshly ground, all-natural peanut butter.

By late afternoon, he’d finished his exquisite meal on the deck as he looked over the city. With his fur warm from the sun, he stretched. It was time for a little walk.

Halfway to the other side of the mountain, he stopped dead in his tracks. He tipped his head up, sniffing the air. He jogged back towards the cabin.

This smells better than peanut butter?!

He lurked behind the trees as you stood at the cabin door he’d left ajar.

“Hello?” you called, shifting your weight. After a moment with no answer, you knocked on the door frame and peered in. “Is anyone there?”

No! My sandwiches are in danger! He leapt out of the bushes. Get away from my snack!

But of course it was a bark, and you turned with a gasp. You froze, eyes wide as he approached with a growl.

Wait! He circled you, sniffing your backpack furiously. It’s her! Why does she smell so good?

Oh God, was it bad he wanted to lick you? With his tail wagging, he stood on his hind legs, front paws on you, but his weight made you fall back against the wall. Good, because now he could shove his snout against your neck to inhale whatever delicious scent that was.

A broken whimper escaped you. He panted when he pulled away, only now noticing how your fists trembled with your eyes pinched shut, tears down your cheeks.

His head lowered with a yip. Oh, no, no. I didn’t mean to scare you! As he took a few steps backwards, his hind legs twitched.

Everything blurred for the next minute, like he was stuck in a loop, before his neurons finally fired and he barged far into the woods. When he was assured he was concealed (surely he didn’t want to seem like a creep watching you behind the trees), he plopped down to catch his breath. After he shifted, he was instantly hit with the chill wind.

Bad Keegan, he always forgot about this part. His clothes were neatly folded in the cabin.

He shifted back with grumble, dashing back out to retrieve them. But you were gone. He inhaled – you weren’t far yet. When he emerged out, decent this time, he jogged after you.

“Hey!” he bellowed. He didn’t have to.

You turned to him with wide eyes, shoulders taut. He wasn’t good at this, was he?

“You came to the cabin?” he asked when he got to you, being mindful of his tone.

You nodded, your shoulders relaxing a bit. “I… I can’t seem to find my way back to the trail.”

He tilted his head. “You’re actually really far from it.”

“Am I? No wonder I haven’t seen anyone else. I was curious if the view was better up here.”

He blinked. Was there a normal way to ask why a stranger smelt so good? “Well, the trail is that way.” He pointed at the opposite direction you were going.

“Oh, thank you so much.” You flashed a smile, yet your fingers fumbled with your shirt.

Am I not standing close enough? I can’t smell a thing. “I can walk you to the trail. To make sure you get back alright.”

Your lips pulled, like you were weighing your options.

He realised full well what it looked like: alone in the woods with a 6ft 1, 200 lbs stranger. He could have very well been a serial killer. Would smiling make him look less intimidating?

“If you want to, of co-“

“Please, if you don’t mind.”

You had a pretty smile, as pretty as your eyes. He let out a tiny sigh.

“Do you come here a lot?” you asked as you followed him.

“Once or twice a month. I could sit out here for hours looking at the city.”

“Is that… safe?”

“What do you mean?” He glanced at you.

“Well, when I was outside the cabin, this black… wolf came out of the bushes and sniffed me.”

“Oh, I’ve seen him. I gave him some of my sandwiches earlier.”

You blinked. “Sorry, you what now?”

“He’s a friendly wolf. Or dog. I don’t know. He looks like a wolf but acts like a dog.”

“He does! He had the zoomies before he left. Must be from all the carbs you gave him.” You smiled. “I would have been laughing if I wasn’t so scared.”

He paused. Is that what it was? “I don’t think he’s dangerous as long as you leave him alone. Probably was just curious.”

He could tell you’d relaxed even that you still kept your distance behind him.

“Again, I’m sorry to bother you. My boyfriend is picking me up and I don’t want to be late or he’ll be so worried.”

Of course you have a boyfriend. “I understand."

“I'd ask him to come with, but he just got back from a work trip.”

He hummed, but after a beat surprised himself when he asked, “How long have you guys been together?”

“Over a year now. He travels a lot and it gets hard at times, but we do try to make it work.”

Keegan dated a handful of times in his early 20’s but with his schedule, nothing lasted more than half a year. As the years passed, the idea grew to be less and less worthwhile, but sometimes when he heard of these stories… Sometimes the envy flared.

Even if for a second, it burnt to know no one had ever missed him the way he wanted to be missed. He recalled the weekends he’d spent not uttering a single word, sometimes not recognising his own voice come Monday morning. The worst part was that he didn’t really mind it.

You quickened your pace as the chatter of the hikers on top of the trail grew distinctive. “Thank you for your help.” You gave him that smile again, a more genuine one this time.

“It’s Keegan, and no problem.” He turned towards the trail, his hands in his pockets. “You get back safe.”

“I will, and I won’t get lost again next time!” You chuckled. “Bye Keegan!”

A small smile played on his lips on his silent way back to the cabin.

The better-than-peanut-butter scent clung to Keegan’s mind. It was sweet and warm, robust and a little sticky, but most of all, felt like a hug he didn’t know he needed. It seeped into him until recalling it was as easy as turning his own hand, and he did. A lot. Because basking in the scent slowed his mind and sleep didn’t elude him.

Eventually, the memory dissolved, like how perfumes would vaporise into thin air, leaving a ghost of what was but not enough. He was left with an unsettling craving for it.

While he and his wolf didn’t seem to share the same opinion on what constituted as mind-blowing, his wolf thought the scent was tasty, and Keegan knew tasty, at least. He brought home a variety of desserts with foreign names from different parts of the city, but nothing was remotely close. He kept trying, but after a week, he got sick of all the sugar.

But you didn’t smell anything out of the ordinary when he spoke to you. Could it have been your fading perfume that only canines could pick up? But why did it smell delicious, and why did it even matter?

As the last molecules left him, he decided it was something in the wind or that he’d messed up the memory, like staring at a selfie you liked too long until you hated it.

He didn’t think about it again until the end of the month when the scent filled his wolf again in the woods in the form of a gust of wind. The memories rushed in as chills ran down his spine. He perked up, following the trail with his nose. So he didn’t imagine it - it was something.

He crawled behind the bushes, spotting you sitting among other hikers at the top of the trail. You nibbled on your sandwich overlooking the city, your steaming drink in the thermos lid next to you.

It really was you, wasn’t it? He didn’t know what to say, but he needed to find out what the haunting scent was. He dashed to the cabin to get his clothes and shifted closer to the trail. You were sipping on your tea when he was back.

“Hey,” he said, his voice a little hoarse. “You got back alright last time?”

You looked up from your tea. “Oh, hello! I did, thanks to you.” You smiled, nodding at the view. “It’s better from further up.”

“Much better.” He chuckled, sitting down next to you.

“Don’t want to get lost again though, so here I am.”

“Not with me, you won’t.” When he was met with silence, he remembered that he was still the strange dude from the woods.

“Hey, can we take a selfie?” You turned to him. ”For my friends, so I can show them the Keegan who helped me out last time.”

He laughed. “Okay.”

You held your phone out and the both of you smiled at the camera. You typed a little caption before hitting send. “Let’s go.”

He led the way to the cabin. “Do you like dogs?”

“I love them. Grew up with one.”

“That’s good, because I brought my- well, not mine, but there’s a dog in the cabin.”

“You mean… the wolf-dog?”

“No, no. A real dog, from work. I take him on hikes.”

“You’re dog sitting.”

He laughed. “I guess.” He noticed you walked a little closer to him than last time.

“Is he scary?”

“He doesn’t get along with most, so don’t take it personally. Just don’t look at him the wrong way.”

You smiled. “That’s a yes then.”

“Should I call him?” When you nodded, he bellowed, “Raider!”

A distant bark came from the woods, followed by rustling that rapidly grew louder. The K9 slowed to a stop a few feet away. He bared his teeth, staring straight at you.

“Boy, be nice. Let her pet you.”

Raider took tentative steps to sniff your legs and sat down as he looked up at you. You stooped to scratch him behind the ear. His tail wagged, panting before he rolled onto his back.

“Hey, I only got him to do that after months!”

You laughed, rubbing his belly. “You’re a good boy, Raider.”

He wondered what it felt like to be scratched as a wolf, if he would ever get the opportunity.

It was odd how fast Raider warmed up to you, brushing against your leg as you walked to the cabin. Maybe you really smelt great to dogs.

“I’m not sure if I remembered correctly, but I think you wore a perfume last time?”

“Perfume? No, I didn’t.” You let out a small laugh. “Even if I did, I’m sure I was too sweaty for it to matter anyway. Why?”

Aw shit. You definitely thought he was creepy. “No, I just thought you-“

The rumble of the bright sky interrupted his words, and he was glad he did because he was on a collision course.

You looked up, the stray hair around your face glowed in the sun. “Really? I checked the weather forecast this morning.”

“We can wait it out in the cabin. We still have a lot of time before it gets dark anyway.”

It had started to drizzle when you reached the cabin. On the deck, Raider lied between you and Keegan, his head on your thigh as you caressed him mindlessly, looking ahead. The city sat low and far, pretty in the rain with the clouds casting a muted blue hue over it. He was more interested in looking at you though.

It surprised him how easy it was to be in your company, both in silence and not. He didn’t like talking, but you didn’t make him want to bail. His eyes flicked to the napping Raider, wondering what your fingers would feel in his hair instead. Was he jealous over a dog?

He probably wouldn’t see you again, but he still scolded himself for the thought. You were taken, for fuck’s sake! And even if you weren’t, it’s not like you’d even be interested in him. No one ever really was, especially not now with this werewolf shenanigan.

With not much else to do, you showed him random photos on your phone as you both shared the rest of his peanut butter sandwiches. Raider kept looking at you so you gave him a chunk, and he retreated to the corner to enjoy his snack.

Keegan scooted closer to you. He loved the way you laughed as you told the accompanying stories, about people at work and stolen lunches, and your friends’ wild antics.

“This guy,” you said, pointing at the dude in the middle of the group shot in a crowded club. He wore Raybans and a grin, a drink in each hand.

His eyes wondered to you on the side, laughing as you held your drink up towards the camera. A guy had his arm around your shoulder as he smiled fondly at you.

“Party animal. Used to show up to class just to sleep through it.” You pointed at the male next to him, the only one without a drink in hand. “This guy, a very nice guy, drove us that night. On the way back, Nick didn’t feel so hot so he puked on the highway.” You laughed. “His spinach pie dinner sprayed out of him, hitting the windshield of the Prius behind us in its chunky green juice glory.”

Okay, that one made him laugh the hardest.

In turn, he showed you the few pictures he had on his phone, mostly of his small family and the lasagna his mum always made when he visited, and some with his friends (teammates) on uneventful nights out. He wished he had fun stories to tell. He wanted to make you laugh too.

When the sky cleared and you got ready to head back, it only occurred to him you never showed any pictures of your boyfriend, probably because of how much he was away. He felt bad for you, remembering that this too was why he stopped dating.

The closer it was to the end of the trail, the closer you walked by his side, but his feet grew heavy. He found himself wishing the rain lasted longer. Raider on the other hand picked up his pace, circling the both of you as his tail swayed, showing no sympathy towards the gravity of the situation.

“This is me,” Keegan said as he swung his car door open. Raider slipped into the backseat, next to his backpack. “Hope to see you around again.” His eyes flicked to his feet.

“Do you want to get dinner?”

He looked up. “Isn’t your boyfriend picking you up?”

“About that…” You grimaced. “I’m sorry, I was scared last time. You know, being alone and all- no offense.”

He let out a relieved chuckle. “No, I get it. None taken.” He chewed on his lip. “But yes, I’d love to get dinner. I’m starving.”

You smiled when he helped you with your backpack. You said the night was most fitting for a greasy burger. He agreed.

He strapped himself in as he glanced at you. This was nothing more than an innocent dinner, yet he couldn’t he wipe the grin off his face.

At least it meant he had more time to figure out what the scent was.

More Keegan: second chance, fake dating

@sofasoap @tiredmetalenthusiast @shadofireshinobi @keegansshark @two-gh0sts @rowanyaboats @mangoguy

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