Warnings: Unprotected sex and also shower sex which we all know is unsafe
Summary: You walk in on a man in the shower, it takes you seeing him in the skull mask a week later to realise it was Ghost, and he is very intrigued by your reaction
Notes: This absolutely wouldn’t be possible without @xxven my muse and pookie and beta reader who gave me the plot 🤍❤️ (also raven on TikTok for making a hot thirst trap that inspired a whole scene)
Word Count: 4,195 (I am very horny for ghost)
ao3 link
There was very little luxury to be found on a military base; your military fatigues were never soft, your boots were the cheapest given by the contractors, your bed squeaked every time you so much as moved an inch, and there wasn’t so much as a tealight allowed in the barracks.
However, you’d found a quiet sanctuary. Far from the rest of the buildings on the base, there was a small shower block, disused and forgotten about in favour of the newer, more convenient showers. The water pressure wasn’t all that great, and the tiles would probably never return to whatever shade of white they’d started out as, but all that mattered was that it was so wonderfully, blissfully quiet.
Silence was one of the hardest commodities to come across on a military base; there was always something going on, whether it be a training exercise with a hard-edged sergeant screaming at recruits or the grunts trying out whatever shiny new piece of equipment the government had seen fit to waste money on, but out there in the shower block, muffled by a copse of trees, there was nothing. Beautiful, precious, nothing.
Today had been yet another long lesson in tedium, worsened by the fact that your most beloved friends were out in the field, busy repairing the vehicles with whatever they could scavenge from the base. You already felt exhausted at the idea of how much paperwork you’d have to do after they’d torn through the place, and the day proved you right, with you having to go to every single place in the garages to check what stock had been taken as mechanics had an annoying habit of forgetting to write down what they’d used. It was long into the evening by the time you’d finally finished putting in the orders to replace every strange bit of junk the mechanics had used, and all you could think about was the long shower you were going to take.
The route through the forest was one of the only places you could get away with wearing your headphones and listening to music without getting scolded by the sergeant on patrol, and you took advantage of this privilege every time, blasting some classic disco music in your ears as you approached the shower block, blissfully unaware of the world outside. If not, you might have noticed the sound of the shower running.
As such, you walked into the block thinking of nothing but how your new eucalyptus shower steamer would smell, having got fairly good reviews online. You already had a favourite shower at this point, the one on the very end, with the best water pressure that the rusted old pipes could provide, though it had no door to speak of. You walked along the yellowed tile floor, passing by the empty showers until you finally reached your favourite one, only to find that it was very much not empty.
Standing under the sputtering stream of water was a tall, well-built man, his tan back glistening under the hundreds of droplets of water, highlighting the various white scars on his back, some of them small, some of them intimidatingly large. You couldn’t help but let your eyes wander down, admiring the muscles in his back and perfectly toned legs, as well as a surprisingly sculpted ass. Whoever he was, he was statuesque in his beauty, as though he had been carved out of marble, and as he turned around to face you, showcasing the golden hair that trailed down from his abs, you caught a glimpse of his shaft, thick and long, yet quickly covered by a large hand.
It was that movement that broke the lustful spell you were under, and your eyes finally stopped ogling his body and flicked up to his face. You didn’t recognise him, not his pale green eyes or his crooked nose, but you could absolutely recognise the outrage on his face, and you yanked down your headphones, keeping your eyes firmly above his waist, “I- I’m so sorry, I didn’t realise anyone was in here.” His voice was little more than a snarl, “Get out.” You had absolutely no desire to argue with a man built like that, so you gave a quick nod and hurried back out of the shower block, not willing to spend a single second more in his presence.
~
Since your encounter in the showers, not a single night had gone past where you hadn’t dreamed about the man, his body, his hands, the dark blond hair that led down his navel, and the thick veins on his forearms. It lurked in the back of your mind, eternally present as a lustful little memory to entertain you during the more boring moments of your day.
Yet again, you were in another meeting writing down what items had been used over the week and what needed to be ordered for the next month's exercise. It was made slightly more interesting by the fact that this time, you were working with the SAS, and not just that, but with some of the most feared soldiers there were, including the worst of the worst, Ghost .
You swore you could almost feel the insidious aura coming from the man in the skull mask, as though it was radiating off him in dark waves. When he spoke, his words were sharp and to the point, never expending more energy than was strictly necessary, and rarely directing his attention to you, sitting in silence and taking notes, not that you were complaining. Every time the man spoke, you felt the hairs on the back of your neck prickle as though your body was trying to warn you that he was dangerous. It was only toward the end of the meeting that you finally spoke up, standing and reciting everything that you’d written down in your notebook.
It was times like that where you’d have to put on a brave face as if you feared the room of men no more than a pack of kittens, making sure your voice was loud and firm, forcing them to listen to you. None of them seemed particularly interested; after all, you were a perfect, albeit boring professional, yet you remained undeterred, making eye contact with each of them. Even Ghost was looking at you; you could see those pale green eyes watching you from underneath his skull mask with a strange intensity. You remained undeterred, staring back at the man as you read out the various things that were in stock and what would have to be ordered, yet there was something niggling at the back of your head. Those eyes were strangely familiar.
It took you a second to remember, and then the barely buried memory came back: the beautiful man in the shower, his body glistening, his toned muscles, and the dark blond hair that covered his navel. The words in your mouth died on your tongue, and you saw Ghost’s eyebrow raise underneath his mask as if he was intrigued by your reaction to him. You cleared your throat, hoping that the heat you felt in your cheeks wouldn’t show up on your skin as you dropped your eyes back down to your notebook, pointedly ignoring him as you focused back on your task, ensuring that you hadn’t missed anything.
Inexplicably, Ghost spoke up, interrupting your admittedly dull recital of your list, “How soon can we get a restock of the M16 mags?” His question forced you to look over at him, and his pale green eyes seemed as though they were trying to drill right through your head. You refused to back down this time, meeting his gaze no matter how prevalent the image of his naked body was in your mind, even if you did stumble over your words as you flipped through the pages, “Those mags, uh, the ammo for the M16 that is, we ordered those last Tues-Wednesday , so they’ll be in by the end of this week.”
You couldn’t see his expression under his mask, but you could have sworn that it tugged in a way that suggested he was smirking underneath the black fabric, a touch of smugness in his eyes. Was he flirting with you? There was no possible way for you to find out in the middle of a full room, so you decided to put that tantalising idea to the side, wrapping up the last few items on your list and then glancing around the room, “If there’s anything else, please send me an itemised list by the end of the day.”
With that, the meeting was over, every soldier packing up their files, undoubtedly each one as bored as you, and you had little desire to spend any more time with them, especially with the suspiciously intense look Ghost was giving you, so you gave your farewells and left the room as quickly as you could, doing your best to rid your mind of the confusing thoughts whirling around in your mind. Ghost, the supposed ‘psycho’ killer, was flirting with you. Or perhaps threatening you. You weren’t entirely sure which. And yet, you had a strange desire to find out, that small part of you that longed to step into dangerous territory. But how could you? That meeting had been the only time you’d ever interacted with the man; other than your brief encounter in the shower, it didn’t seem like there would ever be another opportunity to be alone with him.
Unless.
Regardless of how outraged he’d been previously, he’d seemed entirely intrigued by you in the meeting, almost amused. You’d seen the direction he was headed; if your mind wasn’t already overtaken with delusional optimism, you could have sworn that he was striding in the direction of the old shower block with what seemed like great determination.
This was one of those deciding moments, a fork in the path where you got to choose what the outcome would be: adherence to your usual routine or something far more thrilling. You could almost feel the clock ticking in your head, your time running short, and for once, you decided to be brave and at least a little bit stupid, heading to your barracks to pick up your things before heading out toward the shower block, adrenaline pounding in your veins as you made your way through the small woods to the brick building.
Even from the outside, you could hear the shuddering of the pipes as they desperately pumped water, your heart beginning to pick up the pace as you pushed open the heavy wooden door, closing it softly behind you, now able to hear the pattering of water on the tile floor and see the black clothing draped over the bench that ran the length of the wall. You walked down the centre of the block, approaching the last stall on the end, and yet, you couldn’t take that final step. Everything below the waist was screaming at you to leap into the shower with the man, yet your brain conjured images of the humiliating HR meeting you’d be in if you had, in fact, entirely misinterpreted what were admittedly very subtle hints. You didn’t dare push over that line with a man so far above you in rank, but you weren’t prepared to entirely give up, so you merely slunk into the stall next to his, stripping off your uniform and hanging it on the backside of the door, pulling it to and surrendering yourself to an unsatisfying shower.
The shower head shuddered as you twisted the knob for water, a few spats of water dripping out, yet nothing more. There was a good reason you stuck to that end stall; almost every other shower there had been neglected to the point of failure. You took this as a sign to give up, turning around to get your things, only to find Ghost standing in the now open doorway.
There was nothing but a towel lazily wrapped around his hips to cover him up, his blond hair already soaked, water leaving little trails down his body, pulling your eyes down. You quickly snapped your attention back to his face, your hands already going to cover your chest and between your legs instinctually. Ghost’s eyes lingered on your body before finally flicking to the broken shower head, then back to your face. You could see that intrigued twinkle in his eyes as he gave you a slightly smug smirk, gesturing toward the other shower stall with his head, “Mine works. We should share.”
You almost couldn’t believe what he was suggesting. The exact situation had been playing out in your mind ever since you’d seen him naked, yet never once had you made the connection between your shower Adonis and Lieutenant Ghost. The two couldn’t be reconciled in your head, but you quickly decided that this was a problem to be solved later, if at all. You turned your non-functioning shower off, though slightly reluctant to use the hand covering your chest to do so, and then walked out of the stall, ducking under Ghost’s arm holding the door open for you, and rounding the corner into the warm stream of the only functional shower, allowing the water to wash away all the important questions that should have been asked, only focusing on the present moment.
Though you’d chosen to face away from him, you could still hear the noise of his towel hitting the wall as he tossed it aside, your entire body tensing up as you felt his presence behind you, the nerves nipping at the back of your mind. You didn’t dare turn to look at him, trying to find something else to focus on to quiet your frenzied brain, your eyes flicking to the one bottle of his on the floor in the shower, trying to figure out what scent ‘original’ was supposed to be, and whether one liquid really could be shampoo, conditioner, and body wash.
Your thoughts on his toiletries were brought to an instant halt at the first touch of his hand on your hip, a questioning touch as though he was gauging your interest before moving any further. He might have been feared special forces, yet here, you retained a level of control, of security. You relaxed into his touch, leaning back until you bumped up against his chest, and his arm snaked around your stomach, wrapping tightly around your waist as he stepped forward into the stream from the shower, his head dipping down to rest in the crook of your neck. You could feel his other hand trail a path up your thigh before it, too, wrapped around you, pulling you snug against him in a tight embrace, like a man starved for any sort of touch.
For a moment, the two of you remained in that simple intimacy, your arms resting on top of his, enjoying the sheer pleasure of his embrace. Your hands were the first to move, your fingertips gently trailing over the muscles in his forearms, admiring the strength in them, unable to hold back a smile as you saw the not-so-subtle way he flexed them for you. His hand moved then, and you followed them with your own, one trailing down over your hipbone to the top of your thigh, gently stroking the skin there, the other one shifting up until it was just underneath your breast, pausing right before he touched anywhere interesting.
Clearly, he wasn’t about to touch anywhere without your explicit permission, and you decided to test him, pulling his left hand up until it was settled over your breast. His fingers paused, and you felt the tenseness in his arms, yet after a beat, he stretched out his fingers, tracing a little pattern over the swell of your breast, circling your nipple before his hand covered your boob entirely, gently squeezing it in his hand. You could feel his breathing growing heavier, every exhale blowing air over the skin of your neck, but you had no intention of stopping, relaxing into his touch, letting your head fall back against his shoulder, your eyes closed. The hand on your thigh had grown tight, fingers digging into your flesh, and you began to move his hand further in to where you could feel a growing need for his touch.
The further you moved his hand, the tighter his grip on your chest got, pulling you closer against him until you could finally feel his hardness pressed against the small of your back. His clear excitement emboldened you further, and you pushed his hand firmly between your legs, letting his fingers slightly part your labia to rest on your clit. That action earned you a low growl from him, and he buried his face into your shoulder as he pushed his fingers further down, touching the slick wetness beginning to leak out of your needy pussy. The second he felt your wetness, he drew his fingers back from you, digging them into your hip and pulling you firmly against him, rubbing the bridge of his nose against your neck as though he was trying to ground himself in the moment.
You had no problem allowing him to take his time, focusing on the simple pleasure of the warm water on your skin and the heat emanating from his chest to your back. His hand moved back to your pussy, more determined than before, as he slid his fingers down your slit, gently probing your slick hole with his fingers. As he slowly slid one in, he let out a strangled groan, shifting his face so he could bite down on the flesh of your neck, his other hand massaging your breast as his finger began to easily slip inside you. He stretched his thumb up to rest on your clit as he gently began to pump his finger in and out of you, rubbing in little circles, and you couldn’t help but let out a little moan.
The slightest of noises from you seemed to spur him on, and he pushed another finger inside you, beginning to kiss and suck at your neck as he did so, your body easily accepting his two fingers, and so he followed it with a third, his dick twitching with excitement against your back as all three of his fingers sank inside you without resistance.
Whatever good sense you had left was beginning to dissipate in the haze of your lust, and you reached your hand behind you to wrap around his cock, slowly beginning to stroke him as he gently fucked you with his fingers. He rewarded you with a soft groan in your ear, and so you quickened your pace, beginning to pump his dick in earnest, wanting him to receive the same pleasure as you. Your body was eagerly opening up around him, and the last bit of your intelligence vanished as your desperation for him overpowered you, and you begged for stupidity in two words.
“Fuck me.”
There was no hesitance in Ghost’s touch now as he pulled his fingers out of you, turning you to face him and then bending down to grab your thighs and lift you up, pinning you to the cool, damp wall of the shower stall. You could see the lust in his eyes as he shifted to hold you with only one hand, the other quickly moving to his dick, positioning it at your slick entrance and then slowly beginning to lower you down onto him. There was no comparison to the pleasure you felt, not only from feeling him slide into you, but to watch his face as he did so, his open lips, the desperate look in his eyes, his gaze entirely focused on you as though you were Aphrodite herself. You sunk your teeth into your lip to stop yourself from moaning out loud as you felt him stretch out your insides, yet you let your hands dig into his shoulders, your nails raking his skin as you felt every inch of him.
When you finally sunk down to the base of his cock, he leant forwards to rest his head on the wall beside you, clearly struggling to contain his composure, his hand digging into the flesh of your thigh, the other splayed out on the cool tile wall. He took a second to breathe before he began to slowly thrust up into you, his hand shifting from your thigh to your hip to pin you in place. Even in your wetness, you could feel how big he was, filling you up so perfectly, and you arched your back against him, desperate to feel every inch of him inside you. His eyes were on you now, and he moved his hands from the wall to your lips, tugging your bottom lip out from between your teeth and issuing you a singular command, his gaze intense.
“I want to hear you.”
Even in your pleasure, you couldn’t stop yourself from obeying a command from your superior officer, and you let out the moans you’d been holding back, tightening your legs around his waist to pull him into you as much as possible, your fingers raking against his back as he fucked you, his hips beginning to move more forcefully against you. His fingers now moved to your hair, brushing the errant strands out of your face and then shifting down to cup your cheek, lifting your face, his voice soft, “Look at me.”
There was no mistaking the utter lust in his gaze when you looked up at him, yet you could also see quite a great deal of tenderness, of genuine care, which only served to heighten your pleasure, your hands moving from his shoulders to the back of his neck as you clung to him, desperately grinding your hips against him. He picked up his pace further yet still restrained himself from fully slamming into you, his grip like a vice on your thigh. His voice grew hoarser as he caressed your cheek with his thumb, clearly strained, “Touch yourself.”
In another situation, you might have felt insecure, yet you were entirely awash in lustful pleasure, and so you obeyed, reaching down with one hand to begin rubbing circles around your increasingly sensitive clit, feeling that same build of pleasure in your core as Ghost fucked you faster still, his expression growing more desperate by the second. He leant forward to whisper his final command against your lips.
“Come for me.”
Your body seemed honour-bound to obey him as your pussy clenched around his dick, your pleasure building until it finally crescendoed, with Ghost’s lips crashing onto yours as you finished, his hips moving frantically as he desperately fucked you, his thrusts stuttering as he finally shot his load deep inside you, his body crushing yours into the wall in a tight embrace. Your kisses became softer as the both of you came down from your frenzied high, his grip on your body loosening slightly, your death grip around his neck becoming less deadly.
With a satisfied groan, Ghost let himself sink to the floor, pulling you down along with him into his lap, letting his dick remain inside you as you settled more comfortably on top of him, resting against his chest as he lazily wrapped his arms around your lower back, cradling you against him. After such bodily heat, the comparatively cool water of the shower felt heavenly on your skin, washing away your intermingled sweat.
You probably could have slept there, with Ghost still buried inside you, yet he was not so spellbound. With a gentle movement, he pulled his softening length out of you, reaching over to grab the bottle of soapy liquid he’d left on the floor. Then, he repositioned you so you were now sitting in between his legs, his thick thighs boxing you in as he opened the bottle behind you. You weren’t entirely sure what he was doing, nor did you care, still awash in a pleasant afterglow. The touch of his fingers gently massaging the liquid into your hair was a heavenly surprise, and you practically melted into his hands, a human-sized pile of putty perfectly manipulated by him. He ran his fingers through the length of your hair, thoroughly soaping up every strand before he let the cool water wash away the suds.
Then, he got to work on your body. Never had you been so grateful for three-in-one soap as it meant you didn’t have to miss a second of his warm chest against your back as he began to soap up your body, his fingers incredibly gentle against your skin, paying attention to every single part of you, and then letting you lean back against his chest as the water washed everything away, his arms coming to rest around your waist. Every single care of yours seemed to follow the soap down the train as you relaxed into him, enjoying the way he rested his chin on your head as you closed your eyes, finally entirely at ease.
"You ever think about getting out of here? Just packing your shit and driving wherever the wind takes you?"
"With you? Yeah, I—yeah. I do."
Ryan calls it a bar, but that's because Ryan is a fucking idiot.
The Way Down is a shitty hole in the wall dive on the far, far edge of Nashville. Walk in the door on any given night and you're likely to find cheap beer, sticky tables, and some bastard slumped over drunk and caked in vomit sleeping on off in the corner.
It's the not the type of place a pretty boy like Ryan Hart would hang out. But that's why Blue likes it. That's why, whenever they meet up, he always suggests it. Ryan never says a word about it Blue can always picture him on the other side of the phone when he texts — the fall of his hair, the tight clench of his jaw. But still he never says a word.
He's late showing up.
Blue's already on his second Budweiser when Ryan comes through the door looking windswept and stupid. Being late's not like him, not at all. He's a stickler for punctuality. A stickler for rules and all the other things about life Blue's always been happy to discard and ignore, but he can't ask. It goes against all the unspoken rules between them that make this thing work. Pull a block and all comes tumbling down.
Ryan takes a seat next to his, chest heaving like he's out of breath. He shrugs off his jacket, broad shoulders bunching and shifting under the fabric as he moves.
"Sorry," he says. "Got stuck in traffic."
Blue shrugs a lazy shoulder. He slides over a beer, condensation smearing the sticky countertop. "Ain't nothing to me. Your time, your business."
Lie. Lie, such a fucking lie. But Ryan's not going to call him on it and Blue's not going to admit it.
☆DIAMONDCLAN (Warrior Cats x Patalliro! AU): Slatefin's Lore☆
enjoy the art! i wanted to add a lil something to my lore posts so expect more art
writing below the cut!
(TW for parental & kit death and heavy grief. Please click away if these topics make you uncomfortable.)
Slatekit was born in PondClan to Mallardeye and Frogstripe. She was like any other kit, playing, exploring, and running circles around the camp.
However, at only three moons old, her world turned upside down in an instant.
A pack of coyotes ravaged PondClan, leaving little survivors. Slatefin's father, Mallardeye, was one of the cats who died in the initial attack, and while at first Frogstripe seemed like she would stop at nothing to ensure her kits were safe and sound, Slatekit's siblings Mudkit & Heronkit eventually fell victim to the coyotes, with Slatekit narrowly escaping the coyotes' jaws.
It was at this moment, plus the death of PondClan's deputy to the coyotes, that Frogstripe realized that camp was not safe anymore for Slatekit.
"I want you to run. Far, far away from here. PondClan isn't safe anymore." She nudged Slatekit past the camp boundary.
Slatekit was confused, and her little voice began to break. "M-Mama? Won't you come with me if PondClan isn't safe? What about my friends?"
Frogstripe's fur bristled as the coyote scent got closer. "The Clan wants every cat that that can to fight off the coyotes. If I make it, if anyone makes it, I promise to you, Slatekit. I'll look for you, and you can come back with me. If I don't... well, it's hard to say to a kit like you, but PondClan might not exist anymore."
Shaky and nervous, Slatekit began to run. It was her only hope of survival. The coyote scent was overpowering now, and Slatekit was lucky to have escaped in time.
Slatekit ran fast, and farther than she had expected. After blitzing through the woods for what seemed like forever, Slatekit looked around at the unfamiliar landscape. She was lost. For a few days, she hung around the same spot, waiting for Frogstripe.
Meanwhile, PondClan had been decimated by the coyotes. Only a few cats survived: the leader, one healer, and a few warriors.
None of them were Frogstripe.
Even if she had survived, Slatekit was unsure if she could even find her kit in this strange land.
The realization set in. Slatekit was alone. No Mama.
She wailed and cried as she wandered through the forest, eventually catching the attention of a DiamondClan patrol.
"Hi there! What's your name? Where are you from?"
"My name is Slatekit. I'm from PondClan, if it still exists... my mama is Frogstripe, and she promised to look for me if they could fight off the coyotes."
The DiamondClan patrol exchanged awkward glances. How was one supposed to tell a kit that their Clan was almost all dead? DiamondClan had received the sad news at last night's Gathering.
One of the cats stepped forward. "I'm sorry, but you might not be able to go back to PondClan with Mama. She travelled to StarClan after fighting as hard as she could against the coyotes."
Slatekit began to bawl even harder.
"But we aren't gonna leave you alone. We're a DiamondClan patrol, and we'll take you back to camp with us. You'll meet so many new friends!"
Slatekit nodded her tiny head. At least she'd have a home now.
The patrol took Slatekit back to DiamondClan, where she was accepted in. In the warmth of DiamondClan's nursery, she made some new friends: Moonkit, Cloudykit and Sheepkit.
Eventually, Slatepaw's apprentice ceremony came. She made a vow to herself: she would one day become the strongest warrior in DiamondClan, able to fight off even a pack of coyotes. All so she didn't have to run anymore.
A few moons before Slatekit's arrival, a DiamondClan patrol had found another lost kit, left behind after getting separated from his loner family. He was named Leopardkit, later Leopardpaw, and hung out a lot with one of Slatepaw's friends, Cloudypaw, as well as another cat, Skunkpaw.
While Leopardpaw was a strong fighter when the opportunity presented itself, he was more interested in helping around camp, playing with the kits and making nests. This made no sense to Slatepaw. Why be a warrior apprentice if you weren't going to fight? The option to become a nursery or mediator apprentice was right there.
However, on Leopardpaw's side, Slatepaw was just stunning. While the other apprentices could see clear as day that Leopardpaw had a massive crush on Slatepaw, Leopardpaw was just too shy to confess— until after they received their warrior names, Leopardboulder & Slatefin.
However, Leopardboulder's first confession of love went anything but well.
"Sorry, but I'm not interested in a soft cat like you. I like cats that can prove their worth in battle."
While the rejection stung badly, Leopardboulder wouldn't let it get him down. He began training and training to prove that he could also be a strong cat to Slatefin, although this came at the cost of not spending that much time with his friends, Cloudyfall & Skunkpelt. Cloudyfall took it well. Skunkpelt didn't.
"Leopardboulder, my friend, has abandoned me, his loyal best friend, for a cat that probably won't even look him in the eye! I didn't even do anything! I swear, one day, I'll make the both of them pay..."
One day, Leopardboulder was out on a patrol with Slatefin, who was trying her hardest to pay no mind to him. Suddenly, a coyote came stalking out of the bushes.
The other cats on the patrol expected Slatefin to fight off the coyote, being the strong fighter she was, but she just couldn't. Even though she was capable of driving off even bears, there was one animal she refused to fight.
Coyotes.
All because of the disaster that befell PondClan when she was a kit.
When she told the patrol about her story, and that they should probably head back to the safety of camp, Leopardboulder stepped out towards the coyote.
"Leopardboulder! You mouse-brain! A soft cat like you is goinna get eaten in half an ear-flick! Just go back to camp with us! Besides, you don't need to save me like I'm a weak, defenseless molly in some sort of elder's story!"
"Slatefin, wait! I'll handle the coyote. I'm sure I can. For you."
"Okay, sure," Slatefin sarcastically meowed. "Don't come crying to me when it takes a chunk out of your head."
However, as Leopardboulder managed to get a bunch of good hits on the coyote, eventually driving it off, Slatefin realized how much of a mouse-brain she was. Even if he was soft, he could also be strong if he needed to be, able to protect the Clan from any threat. And maybe they could protect DiamondClan together.
The two decided to become mates right then and there.
Later, they had two kits together: a tomkit named Quartzkit and a molly kit named Amethystkit. During Slatefin's pregnancy, she continued her duties as a warrior long after when most cats would move into the nursery, meanwhile Leopardboulder fretted about his soon-to-come kits day and night. Slatefin absolutely refused to move into the nursery, claiming she was still just as good of a fighter as she always was, and that kits were no obstacle. Leopardboulder and the other warriors, concerned for her safety, had to literally force her into the nursery, and even then she was only a few days away from having her kits.
While Quartzkit was adventurous and playful yet caring for others, Amethystkit was an absolute rebel. She refused to listen to her parents, always going off to play on her own.
However, one day, Skunkpelt waited until Leopardboulder, who was caring for the kits while Slatefin continued her warrior duties, was gone, and took the kits down to the river in the gemplace for a "swimming competition". Skunkpelt was hoping the powerful currents would wash the young kits away, and the first part of his revenge would be complete.
Had Moonpaw not jumped in to save Quartzkit & Amethystkit, they would have drowned.
When Moonpaw told Slatefin about what Skunkpelt had done, she was furious. If only he wasn't a Clanmate, she could easily dig her claws into him for what he did!
Later, when Skunkpelt was exiled, casting off his suffix in contempt for DiamondClan, Slatefin vowed that if she ever saw Skunk on the territorry, she'd be the last thing he ever saw.
Life in DiamondClan continued as usual for Slatefin, until Quartzpaw & Amethystpaw were close to their warrior ceremonies.
Slatefin had heard of a group of raccoons heading towards DiamondClan, and went out into the territory to fight them off, especially since Amethystpaw had disregarded her mentor's orders to go out into the territory and hunt, you guessed it, raccoons. However, when Slatefin got back, over the next few days, she began feeling... weird. She hid away more, felt feverish, and didn't sleep much.
When she described her symptoms to Owlcrest, the healer was alarmed.
Slatefin had gotten foaming-rage (rabies) from fighting the raccoons.
Owlcrest dashed into the leader's den when he figured it out. If one cat got foaming-rage, they would inevitably cause the rest of the clan to get it too, and considering foaming-rage has no survival rate, they would have to act quickly and drastically.
Roachstar settled on exiling Slatefin for the Clan's safety, but not before letting Quartzpaw and Amethystpaw see her one last time.
While Quartzpaw chose to not let it bother him that much (even if it meant pushing his grief away to continue training), Amethystpaw took it much worse. She'd spent so much time fighting with her own mother, and only when she had to say good-bye was she able to apologize. Slatefin's last words to the two of them still rang out clearly in Amethystpaw's mind.
"I hope you can take care of the Clan and Leopardboulder, even when I'm gone and the foaming-rage has claimed me..."
Every day, Amethystpaw took trips out into the territory to observe Slatefin from a safe distance. Seeing her own mother lose her mind to the foaming-rage, eventually falling into a coma, deeply shook Amethystpaw.
One day, during one of these trips, Amethystpaw noticed Slatefin's breathing slowing, eventually coming to a stop.
Slatefin had lost the battle with foaming-rage and travelled to StarClan.
When the realization set in, Amethystpaw cried out loudly. Slatefin's death affected her to the point that her warrior ceremony was delayed, resulting in her brother, Quartzflight, getting his warrior name before her.
(Stay tuned for the Part 2 about what happens with Amethystpaw & Quartzflight after Slatefin's death because it is LONG. basically amethystpaw gets too attached to her best friend/gf salamanderpaw and briefly leaves diamondclan for the twolegplace, and quartzflight represses his feelings so much it worries his friend wispnight and also leads the search party for amethystpaw & salamanderpaw)
"You’re too gentle,” Rowan grumbled as he sat still while Arlo carefully worked the dead feathers out of his wings.
“You don’t like the sensations that come with a heavy hand.” Arlo’s answer was short, but genial. The man knew how to get around Rowan’s moods. Which only served to irritate the god more. “I know, I know, but I don’t like it when you’re upset.”
“Arlo—”
“Rowan, we’ve danced around this subject every time it comes up,” Arlo sighed. “I don’t want to do that today, and I know you don’t either.” Arlo was right. He was right and Rowan hated it. “It’s okay. I’m tired, too.”
“I don’t feel tired,” Rowan muttered. It was true. He felt nothing.
“I know… but I can sense it—if you lay down I guarantee you would fall asleep.” The smile could be heard in Arlo’s voice. His hands never stopped. With controlled movements, the man smoothed the feathers after finishing the preening.
“You must think me a petulant child…” Rowan looked down at his scaled hands. His twitching fingers ended in wicked talons. Weapons that could shred most anything, yet, he didn’t use them as often as he once had.
“Heh, I don't think that of you,” Arlo chuckled, lightly. “I know who you are… I know how you are—you are strong, even when you don’t need to be.” Rowan tenssed. “All I think is that you need to rest.”
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the
Organization for Transformative Works
wei wuxian / xue yang, ~45k, explicit.
city of devils is fully drafted and the first four chapters are up! come and get your nasty demonic cultivator juice! i will be dropping new chapters every two days until the whole thing is up. ive been writing this damn thing for five years i gotta get it outta my lap. have fun ily
