#(( *shoves this out of the depths of Hell and SLAMS it down* ))

[6ronze]

JUST WANNA KISS

˖ ݁𖥔 ݁˖ 𐙚 ˖ ݁𖥔 ݁˖ ─── 𝐁𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐍!𝐌𝐄𝐍 w fem!reader where you ask for a kiss mid fucking. warning(s) -> fluff(?? it’s just a tiny bit sweet lol) + nsfw. mdni. sanzu x reader. ran x reader. + hanma x reader. not all of them agree to kiss you. they’re mean. tiny bit of guilt tripping(sanzu). a lil hint of pussy drunkness(sanzu). blowjob(ran). implied brat taming(ran). hints of choking(ran). a tad bit of deep throating(ran). spit(ran). overstimulation(hanma). slight degradation(hanma). spanking(hanma). hints of dacryphilia(hanma). format -> headcanons/scenarios wc. 2.2k

author’s comment. re-entering my tokyorev era cs bonten arc is getting animated soon + ik hanma isnt in bonten but hes my fav

SANZU — fuckin’ hell, you greedy girl

Sanzu had your legs pressed up against your chest, thighs squishing your tits and your cunt on display, currently pounded by Sanzu and his ruthless hips. You were a sobbing mess, mumbling almost nonsense with how fast and harsh his thrusts were, his pretty cock pulsing deep inside you, hitting the most sensitive parts in your depths.

Even with your hazy gaze, you had a somewhat clear vision of your boyfriend’s face, the scars on both corners of his lips smeared with your cum from earlier when he was buried between your legs, drinking from your cunt like it was a fountain. His glossed lips reflected the little moonlight that illuminated your room, making them seem so enticing to you despite your fucked out state. Biting your tongue, you mustered the little energy you had to speak between your heavy breaths.

“I wan’ a kiss, baby—please, f-fuck” you muttered with your shaky voice, small squeals leaving your lips from the way his hips slammed into you, feeling your insides churn and tighten around him. He hissed in response, too dazed in the feeling of your wet pussy sucking him in, ignoring you.

“O-oh, shit, you’re so fucking tight, so fuckin’ mine,” was all you heard in return to your plea, your hips wiggling as if wanting to catch his attention. But you knew damn well how your boyfriend was when he’s like this—with you. He gets too high, too pussy drunk. It gets almost impossible to pry his attention from that delicious cunt of yours.

“Sanzu, listen to me, please,” you called out again, the words slipping from your tongue whinier than intended. But it was enough to snatch his attention again, even if for a split moment.

Your fluttering eyes met his turquoise ones, batting your lashes and squinting to hold back the moans that wanted to escape, the feeling of his hips slowing down sparking a hint of frustration in you.

“What is it, princess? Need me to go harder?” Sanzu heaved as if he was waiting for this moment, as if he was ready for to fulfil that request at a moments notice. The crease between his brows deepened, grinding into you deeper and staying there for a while with his fingers almost clawing into the supple flesh of your thighs. His eyes couldn’t help but dart frantically between your face and the squelching mess where your skin met.

“I-I want a kiss,” he heard you whimper, your voice at a volume he knew he wouldn’t be able to hear if he kept on pounding into you like he was earlier. Sanzu’s scarred lips curled to a smirk at your weak voice, the expression on your face along with your pants assuring him he’s succeeded in reducing you to a moaning bitch in heat.

It took him a moment to process your request, still occupied in the swell of pride he felt from the look you had on you, satisfied with how your body reacted to him. With a smug hum he leaned down to you, pushing your legs up further to your chest, his lips capturing yours just when you were about to whine. In a split second, he had his tongue forcing its way past your lips, swiping against your tongue and biting onto the tip of it teasingly before pulling away. The mischievous glint that appeared in his eyes gave you a gist of his next move, knowing he’d be focused on shoving his tongue down your throat now that he had a taste of you.

“Aren’t you being greedy here, hm? I’m already fucking you stupid and you have the nerve to ask for more,” Sanzu drawled cruelly, pulling his drenched cock out of your cunt teasingly slow until his tip was on the brink of leaving your slit. He knew just the way to stimulate you more than you already were, though he wondered if your fucked out mind had the capacity to notice the games he played on your exhausted mind.

RAN — havin’ my cock’s a privilege

It was somewhere past midnight and Ran had you knelt between his legs, mouth swallowing his cock like you hadn’t had a taste of him for years. Deep groans rumbled from his chest, head laid back against the backrest of the couch of your home while he had his fingers gripping a fistful of your hair, controlling how deep, how fast, your throat went down on him. And you were more than willing to satisfy him—until you weren’t.

Ran knew how much of a brat you were despite your seemingly obedient exterior, and it was exactly what got him going. He gained the utter most satisfaction in taming you, his own little brat to whore out. But today wasn’t the day he had the patience to deal with your attitude.

“Fuuuck, your throat so tight for me, baby. Trained it so good, didn’t I?” He groaned loudly, fingers tangled in your hair to push your head down on his cock, managing his strength to let you pull out for a bit to suckle his tip. He was tired, and it showed. Usually he’d be more teasing, more attentive to you and your pretty face. But now all he did was praise your skills in sucking him off.

Your eyes were wet with tears that trickled down your face due to how deep you took him, though that didn’t stop you from gazing up at him, waiting for the moment he looks down at you. His fingers tugged on your head further, earning a sharp gag from your bruised throat that only contracted around his fat cock even further.

You should have felt grateful, you knew. He was tired, plus it was 2 in the morning, who were you to expect the same treatment from him all the damn time. But fuck, you’d be lying if you said you didn’t miss the way he’d tease and egg you on, his undivided attention. It wouldn’t hurt to be a bit of needy, right?

With a wet pop, your lips parted from his tip, a string of saliva connecting you two until it broke. Ran’s previously closed eyes opened to glance down at you, a vein on his neck bulging from silent frustration.

“I don’t wanna ask you why you stopped, princess but ‘m gonna need you to keep going,” he grunted, his hips shifting forward a bit and his head laying back against the sofa’s headrest. You could see the subtle bobs of his adam’s apple from your perspective between his legs, the way he was so relaxed at the moment leaving you feeling unreasonably annoyed.

“I want a kiss, Ran,” he heard your slightly hoarse voice utter. He exhaled a deep sigh from your request, his fingers laced in your locks gathering them in a weak fistful. He didn’t move from his position for a moment.

“Do you need it bad?” Ran asked, almost rhetorically. He knows your answer, just needed some motivation from you to actually do it. He wouldn’t do shit if it didn’t do him any good—and your pleasure was something he needed to keep an eye on, no matter how fuckin’ exhausted he was.

“mhm,” the soft hum left your throat with a small nod, glassy eyes looking up at him almost expectantly.

“Of course, baby. Gonna give you all the kisses ya need,”

You watch him push his back off the backrest of the sofa, leaning down to you with his slender fingers tugging on your strands to pull your head back. Your lashes fluttered in anticipation of the kiss you so bravely demanded from your boyfriend.

The second his lips captured yours in a passionate kiss, his tongue slid past the seams to swirl his tongue with yours deliciously. Warmth crept up to your cheeks, feeling a sense of relief in your chest from his compliance with your demand for a kiss. The moment felt tender to you, the hints of whiskey and cigarettes on your tastebuds a familiar occurrence.

Your lashes flickered open when he broke the kiss, your eyes half-lidded in a haze from the fiery kiss still. But the moment was quickly escalated with his free hand moving around your neck, his grip tightening suddenly.

“R-Ran—,” you squeaked, your words choked in your throat from his grasp.

“Sshh.. I gave you what you asked for, now you have to return the favour,” he hushed, his voice smooth yet deep, his intense purple orbs boring into the mess of your face, watching your features contort to a slightly fearful look mingled with lust that couldn’t be hidden behind your eyes.

Before you could utter a word, his thumb moved to your chin, forcing you to open your mouth wide. Everything happened so fast. You heard an audible pft and felt a warm pool of saliva on your tongue.

“Don’t look at me like that.. I’m helping you,” he drawled, the corner of Ran’s lips curled to a smirk, watching your lips slowly close as you processed the fact that he spat in your mouth. With a rough yank, he pulled your head back close to his crotch, your nose inches away from his erect cock looming over your face.

“Now finish what you started like a good bitch.”

HANMA — lets see if crying’s gonna get you anywhere, dollface

You were sure that the floor below you could hear your moans, though you doubted they’d dare complain about it. Not when it was Hanma that had you screaming and moaning into your pillow with his hands keeping a firm hold on your hips so you don’t ruin the perfect angle he was fucking you in from behind.

“Hanma, I can’t no more—can’t cum anymore,” you cried out, hair thrown over your shoulders and sprawled onto the damp pillow you clenched close to you. You would have felt the ick at the thought of having your face covered in your slobber and tears in any other situation but not now. You couldn’t help it—he had you calling out to him every thrust he made, not giving you a chance to close your mouth and stop yourself from biting onto the soft fabric.

“Liar. You said that 3 minutes ago and squirted on my dick right after like a fucking slut, dollface,” he scoffed between his own ragged breaths, fingers digging onto your skin enough to mark you with red.

Hanma wasn’t lying of course. He pummelled his hips deep into you harder just to taste another wet orgasm from you, the clenches on your warm cunt around his girth was enough to make him shudder. And now, he wanted another taste, not caring if this was your fifth time cumming for him, he was determined to take it.

You whimpered at his refusal to give you a break, burying your face into the pillow again while his hips made repeated contact with the flesh of your ass, the leftovers of your previously shared orgasm dripping onto the sheets. The lewd sounds your wet pussy made he slid in and out of yours depths filled your ears, making you lightheaded and weak. Even though he’s been fucking you the past hour, you couldn’t get used to how his hard cock stretched you out, allowing you to feel so full yet aching still. The restless thrusts behind you had you drooling and moaning more than you could, leaving your mouth feeling damp yet lonely. He hasn’t kissed me in a while, you noted.

“H-Hanma, kiss me,” you breathed out, turning your head to look over at him through your glassy doe eyes, damp lashes fluttering at him almost pleadingly. Your cheek squished onto the pillow, glossy lips pouting. Hanma felt a certain pang of arousal seeing you like that, your skin folding at the sides of your waist from how much he was fucking you into the bed and your head turning back to peek at him—all that just to demand a kiss from him.

“Where’d you get the nerve to demand something from me, baby? It’s—fuuck-so fuckin’ hot,” he grunted in response, hissing through a cruel laugh from how you were fucking him back so eagerly, your velvety walls spasming around him. “Pretty little thing can finally use her words, huh?” was all you heard him say in that smooth yet mocking tone of his before feeling a sharp slap land on the flesh of your right ass cheek, his fingers digging into the stinging skin roughly before pulling you back onto his cock.

“Fine then. I’ll—nngh, only kiss you when you cum,” Hanma groaned through gritted teeth, his grip on your hip tightening along with the palm he had on your ass cheek. He wasn’t moving his hips anymore, instead, he started helping your body fuck him with little to no regard for your limbs.

“You’ll get your sloppy kiss once I’m done fucking you,” he promised, coos filled with mock-sympathy leaving his lips between his relentless thrusts, growls of impatience leaving his throat and harsh impact making contact with your skin making you sob. As if you couldn’t get any louder, the onslaught mixture of pleasure and pain he inflicted on you elicited a series of filthy moans that would no doubt fill your home.

“Let’s see if crying’s gonna get ya anywhere, dollface,” he scoffed, clearly pleased at your tears and whimpers all the while he dragged your hips on and off his dick like a ragdoll, intent on chasing your orgasm along with his own.

[luvula]

Pig (Dabi x Fem!Reader)

Warnings: noncon, degradation, toxic relationship. forced pregnancy

It was so hot. You couldn’t breathe. You couldn’t do much of anything, really. You could barely think thanks to the intense heat and the deafening sound of your wet pussy squelching as you were fucked into submission. All you could feel was the hand in your hair shoving your tear streaked, drooling face into your pillow and the jackhammering of Dabi’s cock in your poor abused pussy.

You had tried to leave in secrecy, fed up with his mistreatment, ready to start a new life, a life that didn’t include him. He found out.

You backed away from him, trying to calmly explain to Dabi why you were packing your bags. He shook with rage and called you a traitorous whore, hissing that you couldn’t just leave the league of villains. And you, being the stupid, stupid bitch you were walked up to him, put your hands on your hips and slapped him, a resonating “crack!” echoing in the silent room as he held his hand to his cheek in shock, before stepping around him.

“Watch me,” You huffed, nose in the air, as you walked to the bedroom door, bag resting on your shoulder.

The room began to heat up. You wrapped a hand around the doorknob and opened-

He was silent as he suddenly grabbed you by your arm and twisted it painfully behind your back, causing you to drop your bag.

You cried out in pain as he dragged you deeper into the room and threw you onto your bed.

And now here you were, face down, ass up as he roughly fucked into you. The sounds of your muffled cries and the slap, slap, slapping of skin against skin filled the room and your ears, causing you to clench around him.

He let out a groan and you felt the grip on your hair tighten. Without warning he slapped you on your ass and you screamed.

If it were even possible he would’ve gotten harder just from hearing you.

”Hah... you really thought you could leave us- leave ME, you stupid bitch?” He huffed out and leaned his mouth close to your ear and whispered, “Once you join.... you can never leave. Or are you too much of a dumb slut to understand that?”

He slapped you on your ass again, heating up his palm this time. You yelped again, leaning into his thrusts unwillingly. You tried to move your arms but he had tied your wrists together and you whined, arching into him.

”Hey, doll face, I’ve got an idea,” He chuckled evilly before suddenly slamming his hips into you. You cried out, surprised as his cock reached new depths inside your wet hole. “I’ll cum in this tight pussy of yours and knock you up. I’ll breed you like the bitch in heat you are until you’re dripping with my cum and full with my children.” He flipped you over and moved your legs until they were on both sides of your head- A mating press. He really did intend to get you pregnant.

Realizing this, your eyes widened. You began struggling again, trying to put distance between you two as he repositioned himself in between your spread legs.

”D-Dabi, please, I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry,” You sobbed, sounding like a broken record. He rubbed himself against your slit, preparing to enter you again. “I won’t try and l-leave again, I’ll stay, Dabi, please... please I don’t want this.. I don’t want to get pregnant... You can’t do this to me, please!”

He stopped and looked at you, making sure you were looking directly into his eyes. He leaned closer to you, eerily looming over you and saying,

”Doll, I can do whatever the hell I want to you. You’re my property, my bitch to breed, my disgusting piece of fuckmeat. You belong to me. Now squeal, pig.” before slamming himself into you. You screamed yet again and your toes curled as he leaned down and kissed you deeply and intimately.

Your eyes widened in shock at the sudden unexpected intimacy before he started a fast and overly rough pace that caused you to scream each time his cock entered you. It hit your sweet spot each time and you could feel a knot growing in your stomach. You were close. He seemed to realize this as well because he began to abuse that spot, making sure the head of his pierced cock rubbed up against it each time.

Soon, the sounds of you crying were replaced with the squelching sound of your wetness, your wailing, and him laughing like a maniac. He moved his hand and began to rub your clit which caused you to jolt and shake once, twice, three times before you came around his dick. You clenched around it, over and over as your eyes rolled into the back of your head. Your body went limp when he let out a groan and you felt ropes of hot and sticky cum fill your insides.

He was a mess, but not nearly as bad as you, who was still twitching uncontrollably from the shocks of your orgasm.

Dabi hooked a finger into your mouth and held it open. He spit into it and let go, allowing it to close.

”Swallow it, you stupid fucking whore.” He snapped. You could barely hear him over the sound of blood rushing in your head but did as he asked, not wanting to anger him anymore than you already had.

Slowly but surely your breathing calmed down and the shock of your orgasm was starting to wear off when you felt him slowly start to thrust against you.

You were still overstimulated so it caused you to yelp, surprised.

”W-what the fuck are you doing?!” You snapped.

He laughed and the sound caused a chill to run up your spine.

”I said I was gonna knock you up, doll face,” He slid into you, groaning, “And I meant it.”

[frudoo]

Bells Ring (3)

Title: Mary of Silence

Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist

Warnings: Mentions of infidelity. Angst angst angst.

MDNI

John is fuming. Two strong arms shove open the doors to his chambers, startling his wife who was cozied up in his bed with a book. He quickly strips himself of his clothing in favor of slipping on a nightshirt instead, climbing beneath the duvet and rubbing his hands over his face in frustration. The queen sets her book down and rests a gentle hand on his heaving chest, eyes wide with concern.

“Mah love, wha’ is troublin’ ye?” She questions, her other hand slowly pushing away his own so that she can see his face.

“The prince,” he responds plainly.

“Wha’ of him?” Aiyla removes her hands from him completely, wrapping her arms around her stiff body nervously, jaw tight with concern. “Is he alreit? Wha’s happened?”

A sour taste settles on John’s tongue, and for a moment, he wonders if he should let his wife live in ignorant bliss of her son’s actions. When he looks up and sees the fear in her eyes, however, he realizes that he should calm her nerves with the truth, disappointing as it may be.

“Nothin’s happened, mah dearest, he is safe. But ah’ve discovered the cause of tension ‘tween him an’ the princess,” the king sighs, brushing a stray strand of copper hair from his bride’s pale face, tucking it behind her ear and placing his free hand in hers. “It seems tha’ he has found himself a mistress. The princess is rather upset aboot it.”

Silences seem to follow John, he ponders, as Aiyla does not say a word for some time. He can practically see the information processing behind her amber eyes before her brows scrunch in amusement.

“Is tha’ all?” She asks with humor in her tone, baffling the king, who immediately withdraws his hand from her freckled cheek.

“Ah beg yer pardon?” John scoffs, scratching the stubble beneath his chin as he stares at his wife incredulously.

“Ah mean tae say, is tha’ the only cause fer strain in their marriage?” Aiyla clarifies, a small smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. “My King, tha’s hardly reason fer such foolishness. Every noble has their mistress or lover, bu’ they dinnae let tha’ affect their union—or their devotion tae rule.”

“Ah have ne’er taken a mistress, nor ye a lover,” John laughs humorlessly.

The aura of shame that passes through the queen’s softening eyes makes John’s heart still in his broad chest. He releases his other hand from her grasp, rubbing his wrist like it’s been hurt, scratched by a bloodthirsty demon eager to drag him to her depths of hell. All of these years of what he thought was a perfect marriage, and he never knew that his beloved had been betraying him?

Aiyla tries to reach for him, but he shoves her arm away, nearly in tears. What kind of respectable king cries in the face of trouble? Still, he cannot help the sob that escapes his throat, or the red flush that makes its way up his neck.

“Were ye no’ already aware, John?” She frowns, rubbing her fingertips along the glossy silk of her nightgown. “Mah love-”

“Dinnae call me tha’!” John barks, shoving the duvet off of himself and standing from the bed, absolutely furious.

“Where d’ye ken ah go when we are no’ together? When ah have nae duties tae perform or relations tae have wit’ ye?”

“Ah suggest ye leave,” the king mutters just loud enough for her to hear, one shaking finger pointing towards the chamber doors.

Wordlessly, Aiyla grabs her book and swiftly walks out of his room, her form slipping past him with a rush of cool wind. John imagines the whisper of air is about as chilly as her heart, if she ever had one to begin with. He slams the doors behind her, glaring at them as if he could still see her walking away, as if she could feel his rage seeping through her skin, into her brittle bones. He only backs away when he can no longer hear the soft thud of her descending footsteps.

In a frenzy, the heartbroken king drops to his knees and pries a loose wooden plank free from the floor, his hiding place for every sentimental item he wishes to keep away from curious eyes. Among the collection are every single letter Aiyla has ever written to him, from the time before he’d ever begun courting her, up until her most recent journey to Dublin, where she frequented. John was quick to believe his wife before every voyage, when she’d tell him she was going to visit her loved ones once again. He now recognizes the truth—she was meeting someone she loves, just not relatives as he’d thought.

It makes him sick to think about all the times he had been so ignorant, so blindsided to the truth that had been right in front of him for God knows how long. Bitter teardrops spill from his glassy cerulean eyes onto the fading ink adorning the wilted paper, muddling the words he’d once clung to but now feel as empty as his soul. One by one, he tears each letter to shreds until he can no longer make out a single sentence. Each scrap of paper gets scooped up into his trembling palms and thrown into the fireplace carelessly.

Sparks of burning ash rise from the bottom of the pit and land on his face. John doesn’t even bother to swat them away, rather revels in the fleeting pain that blossoms before the flakes of char snuff out as quickly as they had arrived. He likens them to all of the happy memories he’d made with Aiyla, indulging in them for just a moment before feeling them fade away as though they had never existed in the first place. He wonders how many of those very memories she remembers, or if they’ve been replaced with those of her lover, whomever he may be.

The fire has long since burned to nothing but a fraction of what it used to be when John finally gathers the wit to climb back into his bed. The sheets still smell of the queen’s delicate floral lotions, the imprint of her head still nestled into the satin pillow beside his own.

He wonders if her lover has ever felt so lonely in her absence.

[seungkw1]

maestro — ljh // chapter 1

⛧ pairing: lee jihoon x afab!reader (reader uses she/her pronouns) ⛧ theme: fantasy, suggestive (18+ smut in future chapters) ⛧ chapter wc: 2.7k ⛧ warnings: minor knife violence ⛧ a/n: when i tell u that lee jihoon wrecked me sooooo bad this comeback !!!! the maestro mv was fully giving villain!woozi and my brain took that and absolutely ran with it. also, this is my first chapter fic!! much more to come, stay tuned <3

Your knowledge of the enemy is minimal, but what is known for certain is this: the Maestro is a dark and powerful sorcerer that is not to be trifled with - and you’ve just walked right into his trap.

You fucked up.

Your task was simple enough: sneak into the palace, steal the ring, and get the hell out. You’ve done countless jobs like this over the years - you're a professional for fuck’s sake. Sure, this gig was a bit more high-profile than usual, but nothing you couldn't handle. 

Yet somehow, they caught you. 

You rack your brain for a clue - something, anything, to indicate what went wrong. But you come up blank. Everything had gone according to plan (up until you found yourself surrounded by imperial guards with a knife at your throat, anyway), not a single detail overlooked. Something is off here, your instinct tells you. 

Here you are now, being forcefully escorted through the palace’s underlevels by a squad of imperial goons. The head goon hauls you through the dim hallways, his grip on your arm painfully tight, knife drawn and at the ready in case you were to try something foolish. A dark mask covers his lower face, so he's hard to get a read on, but you can tell he’s nothing more than a large, brainless oaf. You’ve single-handedly outwitted enemies like him in the past - but here, you are far too outnumbered. For the time being, you comply. 

You arrive at a large steel door, adorned only by a small barred window in its middle. With a rough shove the guard pushes you into the cell - you fall to the ground, your palms striking the cold stone floor. The hinges let out a horrid creaking sound before the door slams shut with a loud CLANG. You hear the clunking of a heavy chain, then the click of a padlock. Footsteps fade away as the imperial squad retreats - then, silence. You are all alone, trapped, imprisoned in this musty cell, somewhere in the depths of the Maestro’s palace. 

You sit on the hard ground, alone with your thoughts. The more you think about it, the only explanation is that this was a setup. But the Agency’s entire job is to sift through lies and misinformation; if this was a trap, there must be something larger at play - something elaborate, sinister. 

Unfortunately for you, you have nothing but time to try and piece together this puzzle. You lean your head against the stone wall, trying to figure out how the fuck you're gonna get yourself out of this mess. 

The absence of natural light leaves you with no way of telling time. The silence grows eerie. Your mind wanders, imagination soon running wild. You’ve heard of people who lose their minds within days of solitary confinement. Will that happen to me?, you can’t help but wonder. How long will I be here? Are they going to bring me food, or am I doomed to die of starvation? How did I even end up here? What are they planning to do with me? What if they forget about me? What if…

Your mind grows weary. You decide to lay down - no use in staying awake and overthinking. You rest your head on the gravelly floor - it’s uncomfortable, but your eyelids soon become heavy. You drift in and out of consciousness, strange visions and voices floating through your mind. Before long, you are asleep.

You’re running. You don’t know where to, but you are running through winding, endless corridors. Running from… something. You don’t know what. The sound of your racing heartbeat pounds in your ears, surpassed only by the heaving pants of your labored breathing. The neverending halls begin to expand around you - they grow larger and larger, disorienting your sense of perception. From behind, unsettling noises draw nearer and nearer: screeching echoes, thunderous crashes, wicked laughter. You run, but it’s not fast enough. The horrid sounds infiltrate your mind, reverberating through your skull so loudly you feel as if your head is about to explode. Suddenly, through blurred vision you see the hallway’s end; at it stands a cloaked figure, facing away from you. You can’t see anything else of the entity, but you sense the dark energy that surrounds it. Dread wells in the pit of your stomach, filling you with terror - but, for some reason, you are drawn to the malevolent being. Their presence is magnetic, alluring - frightening, but seductive. You press on - you don’t know why, but you must get to them. Your legs feel as if they’ve turned to lead - each footstep slowing you down further. You’re almost there, almost, almost… finally - the figure is within arm’s reach. In excruciating slow motion, you extend your hand toward them. Your fingertips graze the black cloak, its woven texture coarse against your skin. Your hand glides over the thick fabric - you close your grip around their shoulder, forcefully turning them around to face you. You lift your gaze to look at their face-

BANG.

You jolt awake in a panic. Disoriented, heart pounding, it takes you a moment to realize you’re still in the cold, dark prison cell. Faint light enters the room through the now-open doorway. Standing in it is a tall, thin man - you can barely make out his face, but his presence is unsettling. He peers down at you, his piercing eyes practically boring a hole into your head. 

“Come with me,” is all he says. 

You blink dully a few times, still not fully lucid. You try to process what all is happening, but your dream (nightmare?) weighs heavily at the forefront of your mind. The odious man quickly becomes irritated.

“GET UP!” he bellows at you.

You rise, stumbling to your feet. Two guards enter from behind him, swiftly seizing hold of your arms and yanking you out of the cell. They halt in front of the man. An unpleasant scowl seems permanently engraved on his face. He smirks at you.

“Well aren’t you pretty.”

You spit on the ground in front of his feet. The man glares at you with vitriol. He draws a short sword from the depths of his cloak, pointing it at your face. He traces the razor-sharp tip lightly across your cheek.

“Act like that again,” he sneers. With a quick flick of the wrist he delivers a small slash into your cheekbone. You barely flinch.

“And I’ll carve some very permanent scars into that pretty little face of yours.”

You stare at him, but say nothing. With a huff he turns, sauntering off into the hallway.

“Come along now. The Maestro wants to see you.”

��

The first thing you notice upon entering the chamber is the hundreds of candles set alight, illuminating the otherwise unlit space. The second is the hooded figure seated upon the throne at the room’s distant end, reclining arrogantly - watching you intensely. 

You hadn’t seen their face, but you know: it is the figure from your dream.

The guards stand you before the Maestro. You still can’t see their face. The thin man who summoned you steps forward, giving a small bow to his master.

“The thief, Your Majesty.”

The Maestro leans forward. Their face, previously shadowed, becomes illuminated in the candlelight: you see a man, much younger than anticipated - and strikingly beautiful. His eyes, adorned with dark makeup, peer up and down your body, studying you. He rises, nonchalantly descending the few steps before him; the clacking of his boots against the dark marble echoes through the otherwise silent chamber. He strolls toward you, maintaining eye contact, coming to a stop within mere inches of you. Slowly he removes his hood, revealing a head of long pale tresses. Up close, he is even more stunning. 

The man lifts his hand, delicately taking your chin between his thumb and forefinger. He tilts your head, observing the cut on your cheek.

“I told you to bring me the prisoner unharmed,” he scolds his servant. His gaze doesn’t stray from your face.

The subordinate’s face drops. “Apologies, my liege,” he responds hesitantly. “I-”

“Leave.”

He says nothing else. The servant’s eyes darken with fear. “My liege-”

The man before you motions to the guards. “Take him away.”

The guards seize the man, dragging him from the chamber in silence. The door closes with a heavy thud. You are now alone with the enemy. 

Your existing knowledge of the mysterious individual known as the Maestro is minimal - you have a fairly high level of clearance within the Agency, but even there the details are sparse. Rumors abound, but what is known for certain is this: the Maestro is a dark and powerful sorcerer, and is not to be trifled with.

You watch the man before you intently as he turns on his heels, meandering casually across the room, hands behind his back. Undoubtedly, his presence is intimidating; but admittedly he does not seem to be nearly the loathsome monster you’ve been led to believe he is. Regardless, you will not be letting your guard down. 

“My apologies for the poor treatment you have received thus far,” the man starts as he resumes his seat upon the large, ornate chair. A bowl of deep-purple grapes sits on the table beside him; he reclines again, reaching for the supple fruits. He plucks a particularly round grape from its stem, drawing it to his lips - he places it upon his tongue, holding it there momentarily before biting down, its juicy flesh bursting within his mouth. He chews, his eyes fixated upon you. He swallows before continuing.

“I had to ensure you were who I thought you were, and not some irrelevant member of the Agency.”

You grimace, displeased to learn that your suspicions were correct. He did know about the mission, and presumably the Agency’s agenda too. If that’s the case, then how much else does he know…

You’re itching to ask him who exactly he thinks you are, but you hold your tongue. You know better than to engage with the enemy unless absolutely necessary.

“But now that I am certain, I assure you you will receive nothing but the finest accommodations.” 

You say nothing. He eats another grape. You’ve been staring for far too long when you realize his plush lips seem to have you in a trance; you quickly return to glaring at him.

A few moments of silence pass. The intense eye contact he sustains stirs up a sensation within you - not fear, not worry, but rather… intrigue. You know the man is dangerous, yet here you are - simply captivated by him. You silently curse yourself for allowing emotion to infiltrate your mind like this. You’re smarter than this. Get your shit together.

“Refusing to speak, I see. Very well then. But aren’t you curious?” He leans forward, taunting you. “You know I hold the answers you seek, y/n.”

Your stomach drops. He just called you by your real name. Members of the Agency are exclusively referred to by their code names - even amongst colleagues, true identities remain concealed. How does he…

Your face remains stoic, indifferent, but he smirks. He can read you like an open book, and he knows you know it. 

“Go on, question me. You must see there is no threat here - I am unarmed. You may speak freely.”

You know that’s an absolute crock of bullshit. A cunning sorcerer is never truly unarmed - god knows what he could conjure up in the blink of an eye. But, admittedly he does have a point. You very well may die here - might as well get some fucking answers first. 

“How did you know I was coming?” you ask coldly.

A sly grin appears on his face. “Ah, she speaks! Good girl.” You scowl at him; he continues. “It’s simple, really - it was me who allowed the Agency to ‘discover’ the location of the palace. I made sure their little reconnaissance efforts would lead them to send their most skilled operative to retrieve the ring.”

“You wanted the ring to be stolen.”

“No. I wanted the ring to be stolen by you.”

You pause at his unexpected words. What?

Every neuron in your brain is screaming at you to be silent, don’t play into his little games. But you open your mouth anyway.

“And why me?” 

“Oh, I’ve had my eyes on you for quite some time, darling.”

Your stomach jolts. He said it so nonchalantly, as if he was telling you the weather rather than admitting he’s been watching your every move for god knows how long.

You stare at him incredulously. “What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”

He simply shakes his head. “Patience - you will learn the whole story in due time. Guards!”

A new pair of imperials, much more polished and intelligent-looking than their brutish counterparts you’ve dealt with thus far, enter the room. 

“Please escort my guest to her bedchamber for the night. I must retire.”

The guards steer you toward the hallway. You follow without resistance. 

“Goodnight, y/n,” the man calls as you step through the doorway. You glimpse back: he is seated in the same position, watching you intensely. You catch a curious look in his eye, one you can’t quite read. He disappears as the heavy door shuts behind you.

—

As promised, your new accommodations are satisfactory - lavish, even. You’ve never seen a room with so many ornate embellishments, nor a bed with so many cushions and fine coverings. The washroom was equally fanciful, offering a large tub and luxurious-looking towels. Enticing, certainly, but at this point you are exhausted, and simply want to sleep anywhere that isn’t a cold stone floor. You lay upon the bed, not even bothering to retreat under the covers. Within seconds, you drift off to sleep.

You find yourself in the same hallway again - this time, not running, but merely standing behind the cloaked figure. You extend your hand, grabbing his shoulder and turning him round. You raise your eyes, meeting his gaze - but where his eyes should be, you only found blackness. You stare into the void of his sockets, hypnotized in fear, their darkness seeming to infiltrate your soul. He draws a dagger from his cloak, shoving you into the wall and placing it against your throat. You feel its pressure, but it does not break skin. He draws his face into yours, tenderly placing his lips upon your cheekbone - right atop your freshly-scarring cut. He kisses you - slowly, fervidly, his lips burning against your skin, but instead of pain you feel only pleasure. His free hand wraps around the small of your back, pulling your torso into his, holding you tightly against his blisteringly-hot form. The dagger remains perilously at your throat, a constant reminder of the power he holds over you. His lips parts from your cheek as he draws his head back, looking at you once again, the abysmal darkness of his stare penetrating through you. Slowly, he leans in, his lips converging on yours. Your mouth reaches for his, wanting for his kiss, yearning for his taste- 

Your eyes open. There are no windows in your room, but you get the sense that it is morning, midday perhaps. Dazed, you try to wake yourself up, but your mind keeps drifting back to your dream - to the man who has somehow infiltrated your subconscious. You raise your hand to your face, running your fingertips over your wound, but…

Quickly, you sit up, tossing your feet to the floor and heading toward the washroom. You approach the mirror, peering your face in close to the glass. Where there should have been a fresh scar: nothing. Not a mark on your skin. 

You frown. You don’t know what this means, but you suspect nothing good will come of it. 

A knock comes from the door. You hear the turn of the lock, followed by the creaking of the door swinging open. A young female servant enters, carrying a bundle of fabrics. A second follows, placing a tea set on the small table.

“You are expected at supper today,” the first woman informs you curtly. She places the fabrics upon your bed. “Wash up and dress in fresh clothes.” The two leave swiftly without another word.

You let out a sigh of annoyance. So this is how it’s going to be then. Fine - I’ll play along with his little games. You glance back at the mirror. A tired face looks back at you, grimacing.

Not like I have much of a choice anyway.

⛧ chapter 2: coming soon ⛧

[procyonloser]

Adam found a door in the depths of Lucifer's castle, bolted off and hung in chains. He'd taken to exploring, not eager to go visit with demons and sinners in the rest of Pride. His ears flicked back, and his tail swung behind him, a feeling he wasn't quite used to. It was clear that no one was meant to be here, hell, he'd had to break another door down just to find this hall, and this door was far more secure.

Adam, however, was not a pussy; he grabbed hold of the chains and pulled, using every bit of his strength to try and pry them apart. They groaned, pulling on the door enough that he felt a small rush of cold air come from it. But, it wasn't enough - no, he'd have to pull out the big guns. Summoning his guitar was far more strenuous in Hell, it took more energy, but it packed the same punch. Or, cut in this matter.

It cut through the chains like butter, leaving Adam laughing in triumph over them. "Fuck yeah, you fucking suck Lucifer. Trying to keep me out of shit, no way. I'm fucking Adam, I'll do whatever I-" Adam went to throw the door open, but it didn't budge. Suddenly, he noticed a hand over it.

Lucifer had gotten been him and it, horns fully out, and his tail rattled behind him, the spikes in the fur scraping against the wood like warning. "Adam, no. Leave it alone." He warned.

"Uhhh fuck you?" Adam said, hand on his hip. "I'm not a dog, you can't tell me what to do. If I want to go-"

"You will never come back if you go down there." Lucifer said, cutting him off, getting his attention. "No one goes down there."

"Why the fuck not?" Adam huffed, feeling agitated. "I've got nothing to do here, and you fucking know I can take care of myself, Lucifer. How bad could your fucking cellar be, or whatever it is."

Lucifer met his eyes and he could see the dread in his eyes, the fear. If it was bad enough to scare Lucifer, that did give him some temporary pause.

"That door leads to stairs that go into a pit. A pit that predates Hell itself, a pit where primordial entities stronger than any angel reside. Gods, Adam. Things that crawled through realities and shadows, that ate stars and planets. No one can go down there." Lucifer whispered, voice wavering, like he was speaking sacrilege.

"Oh," Adam said dumbly, looking back up at the plain door. "Nah, I want to go still."

Adam pushed forward, startling Lucifer, and the door shoved open and angry hinges that hadn't been moved in millennia. In shock and horror, Lucifer grabbed onto Adam's arm, as they tumbled into the dark of the pit, and the door slammed closed behind them.

It was pitch black at first, but after a few moments, the twinkling of feint lights appeared in the sky, light blue like very distant stars. Then, fire lit in Lucifer's hand, as the devil began to search for the exit in a clear panic, eyes wide.

But, there was none. There was no door visible. Just stairs leading up into the dark. They were trapped.

[bunningchaos]

Desolate

Haha! Next part to the KVAU backstory done!

↼↼{Previous} - {Next}⇀⇀

Original Killer belongs to RahafWabas, on Tumblr!

Summary - Having firmed his resolution to persevere and locate the one whom pleaded for help. Nightmare arrives to find...

None other than Killer.

Link to the AO3 for the chapter

Drawing without the effects since the boi looks cool

Anyways

✕-✕

“YEAH LEAVE AND DON’T FUCKING COME BACK!” The forest echoed loudly, carrying that infuriated scream within the dense woods and trailing off. Though it’s only followed up by more curses filled with hatred and anger, having zero ounce of positivity within it. If anything, the acrimony increased with each words that spills.

“Asshole.” He hisses with disdain, kicking a rock that’s in his path. Tightening his grip on a knife in his possession, slamming the blade into a nearby tree. Puncturing it through the bark entirely, almost like that wasn’t enough to quell the rampaging bitterness in his soul which is pulsing and getting further deformed from it’s original shape. A target circle. Killer, clenched his hands into fists before punching the same tree. Ignoring how his knuckles gradually cracks and bruise under the harsh impact

It continued on until he can barely feel his phalanges anymore, letting it droop to the sides. Blood trickling from the fingers whilst the darkened liquid dripping down his sockets thickened in amount and consistency, tainting the once snow-white cheekbone and dripping onto the snow beneath his feet. Unironically enough, staining the ground.

“Piece of shit, turning your damned back on me.” Sneering at absolutely noone, but the empty air. The cold breeze blew past him as white puffs of air slips past his parted mouth. Teeth then gritting together as he gazed down at the forsaken glowing object, refusing to maintain a singular shape, floating within the front of his chest.

Irritating, irritating, irritatingirritatingirritating—-

Why can’t it simply cease hindering him? Disappear and never appear within his sight ever again, time and time again, he tried to will it away. To shove it within his ribcage- like what he saw for other skeleton monsters, better yet, every single monster– their souls were always carefully and safely tucked away in the magic-fueled body.

So why the fuck is his so insistent on settling out in the open?

Curse this forsaken thing, as if it isn’t already a curse itself in the first place. Why? Killer isn’t certain, whoever damned this unholy affliction upon his entire-being.. should go rot in the deepest depths of hell. So far off that he don’t get any chances to go after them. For the murderous urges within, spikes up drastically.

He’ll make them suffer ten-time over, no, hundred times. Repetitively, for the culprit- if any- to feel the living hell he was put through for years.

He barely understood anything about it. Not of himself, how he came to be. Even his own name, the one thing that should’ve at least given him a clue as to who he was, were as good as non-existent.

No matter how much time passes, the amount of agonizing headaches he endure just to search through the blurry and fragmented memories in his head- it’s all for naught. Time and time over, he wanted to rip his skull apart. Tear the forsaken soul which lingers appallingly by his chest. The multiverse forbids him from setting it to waste. End his life that holds no meaning.

Exception for the sickening joy he sought for, during a murderous spree. Their pain thrills him, the way they cry out for mercy, scream at him for being a twisted psychopath. How the life in their eyes slowly extinguish as he lands the final strike.

They called him a ‘Killer’, and he relished in it.

Why not just take that ‘name’ and embrace it? It isn’t as if he had any idea what else to address himself as anyways.

It’s the only thing that gave him a purpose.

Though as soon as it’s over..?

The feeling leaves his chest, cold emptiness fills him up at the end of it all.

In midst of all those void-like emptiness, there were times he could hear voices. Echoing, covered by static- making it difficult for him to hear what exactly they’re saying. The first few times were easy to brush off, yet as the days passes. It worsens, louder. Noisier. Terrifying even, it keeps on saying things that barely register in his mind but it’s enough to make him paranoid.

He can’t see.

His vision keeps on blanking out during those ‘episodes’ or so Colour would call it.

..

Right.

..

Colour, his friend, the only person that actually managed to stand his ground against him.

The sole person whom reached out to him, offered to be companions. Saw that there were good in him, despite Killer’s lack of understanding. Incapable of grasping what the other even meant, yet he took the warm hand that were provided.

Going along with his new-found friend.. 

It wasn’t an easy journey. The beginning was rough. Regardless of Colour’s constant attempts to talk Killer down and avoid another slaughter-fest, it usually end up fruitless. With Killer fighting against his own friend instead. Even stomping off alone at how.. nice Colour was. Without fail, he keeps looking at Killer with such softness in his eyelight. Gaze which held an incredible amount of hope.

It’s almost nauseating.

Not wishing to potentially disappoint the bundle of hope and joy, Killer began masking his true intents. Indulging in the various activities presented. Slowly getting acquainted with a few other monsters that were hesitant to accept Killer initially. However, with some convincing from Colour and the sight of Killer not acting up maliciously for a period of time.

They opened up to him, allowing him into their lives and also making themselves a part of his. It was peaceful. Life would’ve been perfect, yet Killer felt nothing.

It’s empty.

The gaping hole within his soul were always lingering within the back of his mind.

Everyone is smiling, laughing. The wondrously sweet moments, it should make him feel something too. Right?

He tried so hard to blend in with the crowd. Shove down the overwhelming urge to stab someone. Feel their blood on his hands, just for the temporary sense of peace. Managing it is difficult when Colour checks on him time after time, and even spend plenty of days by his side. Gradually loosening up and allowing Killer to spend time in public alone.

Oh that has got to be one of the worst possible mistakes ever.

All went well formerly, till Killer inevitably snapped. The voices swirling around his mind, echoing. Taunting, were far too loud to push aside. Coldness filling his soul and pleading desperately for some relief. To feel something.

It wasn’t intentional. Oh stars, he never meant to break Colour’s trust in him. Yet the moment Killer regained a sense of clarity.. All he saw was red. Mangled corpses of humans and thick ashes of white scattered in the surrounding.

Within all of those, were traces of belongings that were familiar. Did he also hunt down the ones that seemingly considered him ‘friends’? Though it wasn’t reciprocated properly. Yes, yes he did.

The next few moment was all a fuzzy mess. He could’ve sworn his vision blurred once more, clouded by splotches of black which spilled down his cheekbones. The consistency of the unknown substance growing thicker and much more frequent with each passing seconds.

A low blow was the sheer disbelief and shock that showed within Colour’s face for no more than a split second. Overtaken by a softer gaze, as he advanced towards the carnage. Reaching out to hold Killer, the familiar warmth was soothing. Least, it should’ve been. Yet all that the skeleton felt, was freezing and unrelenting emptiness.

Again.

And again.

He can’t feel a single thing. Except pain.

Whilst the cruel, taunting voices only gets louder. So much so that he ends up arguing and fighting with Colour due to more reasons than one. All of which kept on piling, snowballing till it’s nearly impossible to figure out why each issue stirs up.

Would it be wrong for him to simply forsake everything by now? Give into the voices, allow it to puppeteer him as it pleases? Lose every ounce of control he had?

He just wanted to feel something. Find out what he’s forgetting, why does he even exist? Do he even have a purpose in the first place? Did he belong anywhere? Is he truly incapable of doing anything other than murder senselessly for nothing but a temporary respite and silence within his mind?

Nothing could be found out about his soul, nor the strange substance that spills down his sockets. Staining everything it touches with a surge of black, that could barely be washed off. The stain is near permanent, it’s disgusting. Repulsive. The shape of his soul too, why is it circular? Similar to a target. These were puzzles that he couldn’t solve, like there was missing pieces that is scattered which he’s unable to retrieve to fit it back in place and understand himself.

Was it normal to feel close to literally nothing? To have voices speaking within one’s head, over, and over. With no clear coherent voice or words? This was torture, it wouldn’t ever stop chattering. Whispering.

Why is it excruciatingly painful when the voices start? His soul seem to also be reacting heavily to it, aching. His entire body feel so heavy. Even without the tortuous whispering, it’s naught but agony.

It hurts.

It hurts so much

Make it stop.

Someone. Anyone.

Please make it stop.

Ithurtsomuchplease

Help

Godithurtspleasemakeitstop

Someoneanyonepleasehelpme

Stepping foot into the universe where he felt the overwhelming negativity from. Where the cry for help continuously echoes, so loudly that it’s ringing within his head. Just who could be in this much agony? Wrong as it is, the tremendous power spike he felt from just this one individual alone was excessive.

No, is it really just one person? It feels as if there’s multiple. There’s just no way a singular person can withhold this much agony within their entire being. This intense surge of anguish is unlike any that he’s ever seen before.

Glancing around, the place he arrived in. Was far deep into the woods, almost similar to where he previously were.. If not for the difference in atmosphere, the air is so much heavier. Suffocating even.

The snow falling from the sky was thick, temperature dropping with each passing seconds. The chilly air stung his bones, exhaling a small puff of white smoke from his mouth as he advances towards the source of negativity.

It’s potent, concentrated entirely to one particular direction. Which he followed, despite all red flags blaring within the back of his mind. Yet, do he care? No, he don’t. Getting hurt isn’t even a concern that he bothers with anymore.

It wouldn’t even matter if he end up suffering the consequences of recklessness if the cry for help is nothing but a lure to drag him out. Would the one that overtook the body of his twin, fall so low to use someone to force him to take action? Perhaps, or maybe not. He barely understood him anymore.

Not anymore.

The snow crunched underneath his foot, one foot forward and another. It’s gotten so thick and high that he could hardly walk properly. Having to pull his leg nearly up to his chest, just to take a step onwards.

Keep going.

The cry for help tugged at his soul, a unknown feeling that he’s long buried away amidst all of his own suffering.. were slowly creeping back up.

It doesn’t take him long to locate the source. Coming across a skeleton, crouched over on the ground. Hands grasping tightly onto his skull while a consistent burst of eerie, darkened and purple aura spill from him, invisible to all but Nightmare. The negativity is so much stronger now that he’s merely a few feet away.

He could see a flicker of red lingering within the front of the stranger’s chest, though with how he’s slumped over. It’s difficult to pinpoint what exactly was giving off such bright yet unsettling glow. The pure-white snow was stained to the brim with black, almost like Nightmare’s own goop that would dirty every spot the tendrils touched.

..Why do this feel so familiar?

His soul throbbed deep within his ribcage, worry.

Sympathy 

Concern.

He wanted to help this person.

No, he has to.

This wasn’t logical, but he had long decided that he would do his best to save someone. No matter the cost, the chance is right here too.

Though, it didn’t feel as if it was out of the selfishness of wanting to leave a mark. To be important, no. It was like he genuinely wished to actually pull the other out of the constant stream of pain that he’s in.

It’s almost like the past where he would give up anything and everything just for his twin.

Taking a deep breath, Nightmare slowly approached. Kneeling down infront of the unidentified skeleton, who barely even noticed his presence. Choked sobs of distress and incoherent pleas slipping out of the poor guy’s mouth, though the sorrow was all too clear. Nightmare could still hear his voice crying out internally.

How can he even help?

How did he manage to calm his brother down in the past?

Come on. Hurry, think.

Night. Think.

If he could reduce the amount of negativity from the other, consume it and force him into a state of calmness.

He could.

He can.

It’s been so long since Nightmare last attempted this, tapping into others’ emotions to sap it away. ‘Feeding’ on the negativity to fuel himself

It can work.

He just has to hope he don’t mess up

Reaching his hands out towards the skeleton, Nightmare cups one of his cheek and gently tilts it upwards to make direct eye-contact. Ever so softly hushing him before leaning forward to rest their forehead together, a dim purple glow engulfing them both. Taking this chance, to also lightly grasp the red, fragile object that seems to be spazzing out and spiraling

Killer stiffens up at the touch, who is this? What is going on? Did Colour come back? This didn’t feel like the usual pair of hands that’s offered out to grasp onto his. It felt so..

..soothing…?

A shiver ran down Killer’s spine at the chilly sensation that washed over his entire body, his soul gradually slowing. No longer twisting and swirling into a deformed mess. Calming down to it’s original circular shape. His vision were still so blurry, unable to see anything but black and red. Yet, he could clearly feel someone holding onto his cheek, and his forehead pressed against something or rather- someone.

Having someone touch his soul oh-so carefully, felt strange. No one actually tried to make contact with it at all in such a way, if anything. He’d usually see them trying to yank it just to test how he’d react

That much was easy to figure out, due to the soft whispers that took over most of his attention. Quietening down the voices that he originally thought was ceaseless. However, it.. stopped?

It’s silent. Abnormally quiet within his head, hearing absolutely nothing except the uttering that he could barely even catch.

….

Uncertain on how much time had passed, the whispering stopped once Killer gradually eased up. Much to his disappointment, the gentle grasp also pulled away from his skull. Allowing him time to properly sit up, rubbing at the black streaks running down his cheekbones from both sockets. In turns, slowly clearing up his vision at the same time. 

Ugh it’s disgusting.

Glaring down at his hands, stained with an inky mess. He finally took a look at the person that were on their knees infront of him. The first thing that catches his attention is his own red soul, floating atop the other’s palm.

Who..?

..An angel? No, no that didn’t seem like one. Not from the few narratives he’s heard of- pure white wings, with golden halo that rests above one’s head. Soothingly warm presence and gaze that wills upon a surge of comfort.

Yet, this other being that appears so frail and worn-out - the complete opposite of what ‘angels’ are rumored to be - rather than a hollowed-out circular ring that stays above his head, there’s a golden crown with three symbols resting at the very front. In the shade of such vivid purple, one moon within the middle and stars at the sides.

Violet eyelight, which holds a mixture of caution, and undeniably an obvious amount of worry. It wasn’t as bright as the sun, far from it. It’s.. close to what he can describe as the moon that hangs above a darkened night sky.

In place of soft, feathery white wings.. is what he could assume, to be a surge of goop. Similar to slime, barely swaying behind the other. One might even deem it unsightly and unnerving, but to Killer? Oh stars, the way it moves was mesmerizing.

He wants to touch it, feel the texture underneath his phalanges. See if it’d react to his touch, perhaps even curl around his palm as he lavish it with attention..?

Ah, his thoughts were drifting away. Finally, refocusing on the smaller one entirely. Killer’s breath hitched in his throat, biting back any words that threatened to spill. By no means were the magnificent being emanating any warmth, if anything it’s cold. A relatively delightful coldness.

Never have he seen someone so beautiful. Skewed as it is, he could argue that THIS was an angel. To him, let others’ opinions be damned. The more he looked at the unknown stranger in front of his very eyes, the further his mind reaffirmed it’s statement.

Without his realization, his own eyelights briefly reignited itself within the usually empty sockets.

He could’ve sworn the accursed soul was shifting in place within the other’s icy grasp, a singular phalange trailing over the delicate surface as if it’s a precious gem.

“Are you..-” The voice caught Killer’s attention entirely, perking up much like a puppy would when hearing it’s owner’s voice. Hell, if he had a tail, it’d definitely be wagging.

“How are you feeling?” Melodious, akin to an alluring lullaby. One that could easily put someone to sleep,

…

“Can you.. speak?” Nightmare questions hesitantly, wondering if perhaps the other were uncomfortable with his presence. Despite not being able to sense any bit of it, or maybe his capability to detect one’s emotions properly weren’t at it’s tip-top condition anymore. Having been focused on sensing even the smallest bit of positivity in an attempt to slip away from a certain someone’s grasp and sight.

Though that’s not important right now. Not this moment

“Hello..?” The lack of answers made everything awkward. The tension was high enough as it is, till Killer finally opened his mouth. “..Beautiful”

..Huh?

Now that was completely abrupt, with nothing to back it up whatsoever. Catching Nightmare by surprise, blinking once, twice. A tinge of purple quickly dusting his cheekbones at the compliment, puzzled by that. Of all things he was expecting to hear, this was definitely not one of it. It’d make sense if the other demanded for the red object back! Or, lash out at the unconsented touch- usage of magic on him and all.

Yet, he receives a compliment? Killer seemed so awestruck, which were the truth. He’s mesmerized by Nightmare. Yes, this was their first meeting. No, he have never heard nor seen the other before. However, there was just something about him that captivated Killer’s attention. Perhaps the fact regarding how Nightmare practically silenced the torment he’s forced to face on a daily basis? The lovely and welcomed coldness that soothed his very being?

Killer can’t tell right now.

“I’ll.. take that as a compliment, thank you” Nightmare let out a small chuckle, and stars above. Killer could’ve sworn his soul was throbbing. Pulsing within the gentle grasp, to which earned another small rub. Sending shivers down Killer’s spine, how can someone be this.. soft towards him? It wasn’t even like Colour behaved this way too, no matter how much his friend claims that he cares- that he believed in him. There was always a distance between them, one that Killer could never afford to cross nor step over the invisible boundary.

“Who… who are you? What even are you? Why are you-” Too much questions at once, overwhelming to some extent. Which Nightmare halted, by simply raising a finger up with his free hand.

“I go by the name of Nightmare,” Addressing the first inquiry, he tilts his head slightly. Offering a small smile which made the object in his hand give another shake, odd. “I’m but a wandering traveler” 

A white lie, not entirely the full truth but also not false. Nightmare had been traversing through various universes on a daily basis. Never having a proper place to settle down to call ‘home’, much as he’d love to have a safe space. To finally relax, toss off the intense dread and fear of being taken back to the hellhole, by the side of the sole person he used to trust with his entire life.

“You seemed to be in.. distress. Are you perhaps feeling any better?”

Killer stares, gradually giving a small nod instead of simply gawking at Nightmare like a absolute fool.

“Uh, feelin’ alot better. That’s for sure, thanks Night” Unbeknownst to Killer himself, he unintentionally shortened the other’s name. By the time he realises? It’s too late, oh great. He screwed himself over again, didn’t he? Made himself look like a complete idiot that listen properly to one’s introduction and-

“That’s a first” A small giggle slips from Nightmare, catching Killer offguard. He.. wasn’t mad? He’s actually laughing at such a silly slip of the tongue?

“How may I address you?” The question was simple, one which is normal to be asking another upon meeting. But Killer felt like he was over the moon at the small hint that the other was interested enough to be engaging in a proper conversation instead of scurrying away or leaving as soon as the chance is given. That or, avoiding him like the literal plague. Those aren’t the worst, of course. He’d rather be left alone than to.. Be looked at with pity or like he should be experimented on.

“Killer.” What a strange choice of name, who would name someone ‘Killer’? Then again, it isn’t as if Nightmare had a better name in the first place, so he wasn’t going to comment on it. Other than internally wondering why the other was named as such when he seemed relatively harmless. An unusual individual, that’s for certain. Although when it comes to malicious intent? Nightmare couldn’t sense any.

Which further confuses him. Why and how did Killer end up feeling that devastatingly crushing pain and panic?

The question was right on the tip of his tongue. Alas, he doesn’t actually bring it up, as he himself isn’t going into personal information as such. Reasonable so, as they both just met for the very first time.It wouldn’t be right to dive into heavy topics off the bat

“Well, I reckon it’d be alright for me to depart now.” Returning the glowing, circular object to Killer. He gently grasped it and let it linger by the font of his chest. Watching as Nightmare gets up onto his feet. Causing an unknown spike of emotion to surge through the skeleton’s mind.

Is he leaving this quickly? Will he ever see him again?

Nightmare reluctantly stepped away. It would be amazing to converse more with someone else other than his own thoughts, but he had stayed in one spot for longer than he normally would. Besides, with the large amount of negativity moments ago, he’s certain the person he’s been avoiding the whole time, will definitely come over and risk catching him

He don’t want to be alone.

“Wait!” Killer hurried to call out, using a arm to push himself up onto his feet in a rush. The sudden movement giving him a headache, everything spun. However, he was quick to grasp onto one of Nightmare’s hand. Holding the small, petite wrist.

“You’re… a traveler, right? Could I.. tag along?” It’s rash, there isn’t a singular thought nor reasoning behind this severely impulsive request. None at all, not even a tiniest shred. Surprisingly not just Nightmare, but also himself at how he’s acting out all of a sudden.

“I’m sorry but my paths aren’t always the safest and switching between places is common” An explanation was given from Nightmare whom awkwardly glances away. Having to omit plenty of details and ensuring it’d make sense from a outsider’s perspective.

Was that enough to get Killer to back down? Nope! Not even one bit, if anything it encouraged him further. “I can protect you, I’m good at fighting.” This was slowly leaning to desperation, for more reasons than one.

Killer wishes to remain by this person’s side. He made his soul.. flutter. Feel emotions that he normally wouldn’t, and the voices- just being by Nightmare- was enough to get it all to shut up. Be it temporarily or permanent, it wouldn’t matter one bit. If one view this in another way entirely, it’d just be seen as Killer wanting to take advantage of someone that could help him, and is then willing to stick closely.

To say Nightmare was surprised was an underestimation. He did not stop to think that someone would be willing to offer going along with him. It will definitely lead to multiple issues, especially with Dream constantly on his tail. Hunting him down. How would that even be explained? Would it actually even matter?

Anyone near him is bound to end up being in trouble. However, at the same time? Nightmare couldn’t shake off the small anticipation within himself. He could maybe, finally, have someone he could deem a actual. living companion by his side. One that he had successfully managed to calm down, without things going wary. Nothing went wrong!

Maybe, just maybe. The same thing may end up occurring again, and if Nightmare agrees to have the other with him. He would be able to instantly provide comfort and assistance. 

But..

Dream wouldn’t like that. 

It may provoke him, should he ever find out about this and.. And he’d likely be hunted more than he already were.

“I swear, I can be a good bodyguard.” Killer reassures, cutting Nightmare’s train of thoughts short. That singular promise seems to confuse him more than ever. Why was this guy so insistent on coming?

“Please.” 

Nightmare bit back his words upon hearing that singular plea, of all emotions to be sensing from Killer. It’s desperation and loneliness. Something that he was familiar with. Was this part of why Killer’s soul cried out so loudly? Because he’s seeking for a purpose and something is weighing him down? Pulling him to the very depths of the sea and drowning him?

It’s like Killer is longing for something, which Nightmare couldn’t exactly place a finger on. Not right this moment at the very least.

“It’d be.. dangerous.” Nightmare began hesitantly, piquing Killer’s interest. Listening attentively, and expectant. The small surge of hope felt so foreign. “I can’t assure you that I’ll be able to keep you safe, and..-”

There’s so much that he’s not comfortable sharing right now. Not now. It’s difficult to trust someone on a deeper level, with how deeply scarred he is when it comes to trust and love.

That subtle frown spoke volumes. Killer, despite his incapability to properly indulge in emotions and understand them personally.. had  always known how to read one’s facial expression and body language. It felt like second nature, 

“I don’t want to hurt you.” That one sentence brought forth more reasons and emotions than Nightmare would’ve liked. The very same things that Dream would tell him time and time again, to comfort him. With the adoringly wonderful smile and soft gaze.

He missed it so much.

No, no he can’t sidetrack in his thoughts right now.

If he were to allow someone else, especially a frail mortal, accompany him. It’d only endanger the other’s life and put a huge target on his back. How can he afford to pull someone into his issues when he can’t even protect himself properly?

When he nearly gave up, forsake himself to a eternal slumber. Had it not been for the sudden plea that jolts him right back. To find a purpose in helping someone, and.. then what?

Abandon them as soon as he calms them down? Is this what he’s going to do? When there’s a clear offer to finally have someone by his side, after a long, desperate and lonely years of mindlessly wandering?

He could provide solace to this poor soul, take him in and guide him away from the pain- shelter him from the overwhelming negativity that is slowly threatening to creep back in. This wouldn’t exactly be a unfair ‘trade’ either, as Killer would also be granting him the very thing he’s been craving.

Companionship. 

A guardian shouldn’t be like this, yet.. He had long given up on that role, perhaps just this once. He could try to see how things go. If he can’t protect his own sibling from going down the wrong path, he could.. Help this one person out. Right?

“There is alot of things that I wouldn’t be able to explain.” Nightmare began slowly, turning slightly to face Killer properly. Looking him straight in the sockets, observing him carefully “It’d be confusing and not make any sense.”

..Why could he not detect any doubts whatsoever within him? Why do Killer want to trust him so much when this is the first ever encounter they had? If anything, there is an unwavering determination deep within that felt extremely foreign. 

There isn’t a shred of malicious intents either.

Why? Just why?

Is it normal for someone to be this hellbent on.. being loyal? Was Nightmare overthinking this, or perhaps he isn’t and being cautious like he normally were, is good?

“If you’re still willing to, I can take you along.” This wasn’t a vow, it never is. Nightmare wouldn’t ever, but a verbal confirmation to ensure that Killer had the decision to accept or deny. “At any point if you feel like wanting to part ways, I’m more than okay with letting you go”

No more words needed to be said, Killer shifts his hand to properly intertwine his fingers with Nightmare’s, Tugging it up to his mouth before planting a small kiss on the back of it. Which essentially confused and also embarrassed the smaller one, cheekbones flushing bright purple as he averts his gaze. Was this really necessary?

“Thanks, Moon” Nickname already..? This guy sure is bold, but it’s a welcome sight.. A change of pace from talking to himself.

Nightmare pulls his hand away, sighing. What an odd individual, turning away before opening up a portal. 

The purple vortex swirling was mesmerizing, the magic that sparked off the edges. From the looks of it, Killer would’ve mistaken that for a brief glimpse of the galaxy manifesting in a small area. Curious as he may be, he dared not ask questions.. yet.

There was so much inquiries he wished to blurt out, the main thing was- how did Nightmare even manage to have this much of an effect on him? Even Colour struggled to snap him out of his usual episodes, especially one as bad as earlier. It was a near miracle that it occurred when no one else was around, or that he didn’t simply lash out. The result would’ve been horrible, like usual.

Frankly he wasn’t expecting to have been eased into calmness so easily. Almost as if the other had simply took away the anguish. Surely that’s impossible, right?

“Killer?” Hearing his name being called in that sweet, gentle voice. Snapped Killer right out of his thoughts, head tilting in confusion. A clear sign that he had been zoning out the whole time, unintentionally letting every single things that Nightmare might’ve said, fly right past his head!

“I was asking if you’re ready to head off” Despite the facade of false peace written over his face, an underlying sense of apprehension and caution could be seen through. Tension within his shoulders, eyelight darting occasionally to the surrounding, and subtle fidgeting with the hem of his sleeves. It’s all too clear that something’s going on. Truly, Killer found it all to be weirdly exciting. Thrilling. Not once has those emotions arise for anything except murdering or torturing another to a slow, painful death.

Yet now? He can sense them! Why? That is a question for later, how? He shall know in due time.

All that matters is ensuring he remains by this unique individual’s side. Clinging to the one person that gave him the rare chance of quietude and so much more than what he could possibly ever hope for. Despite how small this favor was to anyone that might be confused if they ever catch wind of this brief encounter. To Killer? It meant the literal world, to have the voices finally cease it’s endless torment, to no longer experience absolute emptiness within his soul.

“Shall we?” Nightmare offers, holding a hand out. Blissfully unaware of the countless thoughts running wildly within Killer’s head. The accursed soul threatening to reshape itself, if Killer didn’t relax.

Taking the outreached hand, Killer gave a small squeeze. “Let’s.”

With that, they stepped through the portal and left.

Would Colour end up coming back? He’s uncertain, there were times that the guy disappeared for days on end. Be it during an argument or not, though the former usually lead to Colour’s disappearance lasting for longer. Of course, Killer appreciated everything that his friend had done for him. But, it just wasn’t the same. Colour didn’t understand at all. Time and time again, repetitively.

He could’ve sworn things started going wary when Killer brought up a particular topic..

..Was it even important anymore..?

Whatever.

He can think later.

The portal then closes.

“Oh stars, this is going incredibly wrong! He won’t be happy about this”

[woongisi]

Freudian Slips // Kim Taerae

switch!Kim Taerae x switch!fem!Reader // SMUT, some angst & fluff

WC// 5.9k

Synopsis// Taerae tried to stay respectful and ignore the fact he wanted his cock down your throat. Sometimes, his own thoughts betray him.

Warnings// angst, name calling, yelling, pussy eating, porn w/ (some) plot, "good girl", nipple play, marking, cumming in pants, blowjob, best friends to lovers

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

"Tae, I'm getting hungryyyyy."

The two of you had been on the floor in front of the couch, compromising comfort in many regards. Your head had been resting on Taerae’s lap for some number of hours while he watched whatever shows graced the food channels of the tv. You didn't mind, it was quiet sans the occasional chit chatting or his gentle humming when he decided it was a bit too silent.

Truthfully, Taerae’s focus on the tv was less out of interest and more out of necessity. Sure, he loved watching the guys in the shows travel the world to try new restaurants and making notes of ones he would likely never visit. Unfortunately for him, the proximity of your face to his groin and the gradation of light across your face bothered him more than he was willing to admit to himself. He couldn't look at you long enough for his mind to begin to wander or he knew he'd risk making you uncomfortable. Had he done that, Taerae would've left, screamed into his pillow, and dedicated his life to solitude.

“Dude, you have to quit watching these before I’ve had dinner.” You groaned and pulled yourself to an upright position much to Taerae’s simultaneous relief and disappointment. “I feel like I’m gonna die.”

“Well what have you been into lately?”

You pondered for a moment, beginning to spout off all the dishes you'd made and places you'd been that really hit the spot. Unintentionally egging on a discussion of the world’s many varieties of food for the next 10 minutes.

Once your stomach twisted again, you slammed your fist against the coach and shushed him. “Ok. Enough. My stomach is digesting itself. So… what's for dinner? I'm down for whatever.”

“You.”

Taerae had spoken without a single prior thought, far too lost in the depths of his brain filled with food and… lust.

The confused and conflicted face you hit him with was enough to bring realization to what he'd just said. The poor boy’s heart dropped with his face red hot in embarrassment.

“I- I meant… I meant you can decide! I'm… I'm also down for whatever…!” He was already preparing to get up and leave on the assumption you'd want him to.

“Taerae. What the fuck is wrong with you?” Your initial reaction was to snap at him. “Seriously, ask yourself if that was appropriate, at all. Are you really just as sex depraved as every other guy?” You shoved your face into your hands. “Jesus Christ, dude.”

You almost caught yourself off guard with your own reaction. First and foremost you'd felt violated and angry… which hadn't yet begun to subside.

“I'm sorry- Really, I didn't mean-” Guilt sat heavy on Taerae’s mind, hurt, but feeling the reaction was what he deserved after all.

“Shut up. Just… just quit. All you men are the same. Forgive me for even trying. Or.. or wasting my time. Or yours. Whatever the hell we've been doing! Half a decade with you for this?” Deep down you knew you were being too harsh. You just weren't willing to get hurt again. A history of shitty men catcalling you, all your male friends ending up just wanting you for sex, just overall sleaze left you defensive.

Taerae remained silent, unable to form any words with sharp tears pricking at his eyes. By now he'd already backed up and moved to his knees, beginning to stand up.

“It's embarrassing, honestly. For you. I truly can't wait for the day I’m more than a damn hole to people.” You continued your rant, yet to notice the fat tears that had started rolling down Taerae's cheeks. “Quit thinking with your dick! I didn't think you were like that. It's just fucking disgusting. Why do I try anymore, Taerae you- you…”

Your eyebrows furrowed in surprise when his shame was no longer capable of being ignored. He slumped back to his knees in defeat, choking back cries, something that often failed and led to a weak sob. “I'll go… maybe you're right. I- I'm sorry again. I just…. just… never mind. You can block my number if you want…” Nearly every other word was interrupted with a sniffle or painfully restricted heave of his chest.

Your gaze fell more softly upon him. You hated to admit he… kinda looked pretty like this. “No,” you huffed and frowned with the awful knowing feeling that set deep in your chest, reaching to rest a hand on his knee. “I'm the one that should-”

Taerae cut you off sharply, “No!” He flinched back from your touch as if even coming in contact with you would kill him. “It's my fault I-”

“God, shut up!” Your voice raised again which did, indeed, shut him up.

You'd known Taerae for a number of years now. You'd just graduated college together, and had met him when he transferred to your high school in your senior year.

Back then you didn't see him for at least two weeks but you always heard murmurs about some new kid. You shared no classes, but word spread fast. A new kid is a new kid, your graduating class hadn't had one in years. Rumors were pretty mild compared to the usual gossip. The new kid was too quiet, the new kid came from overseas, the new kid was kinda hot but not really their type. Too nice and too passive. You knew from the start you wanted to meet him one day.

During the first fire drill of the year, you did. An unfamiliar face caught your eye in the grouping adjacent to yours. He was looking straight to the ground, fidgeting with the silver ring on his left pinky. It seemed like it spun. Most of the other kids were on their phones or talking, the teachers had given up on quieting them down pretty quickly.

You had snuck into his group, greeted a couple classmates you know alright, and placed yourself right in front of him.

“Hey, are you the new kid? Tae… Taetae? Raerae…?”

He had looked up from the ground with a small startle and nodded shyly. “Uh… Taerae… yeah.” He looked off to the side. “Why do you ask…?”

“Oh, I was just curious. I’d heard people talking about you and wanted to know what was up. I'm y/n by the way.” You cocked your head to the side to teasingly meet his gaze.

He was, as the other girls described, kinda hot. But… maybe he was your type? His dark brown hair hung across his forehead, straight and well kept. His deep brown eyes weren't eager to meet yours but you were glad to meet his. Neither of you knew just how pivotal that fire drill would be.

The teachers had signaled the all clear and just like that you were gone, yelling back that you liked his glasses and that he should come find you at lunch.

And find you at lunch he did. He had decided in the hours between that you couldn't be so bad. You didn't ridicule him for being so quiet, you didn't treat him like an animal to be oohed and ahhed at. Within a few weeks he'd developed a crush on you but pushed it to the recesses of his brain. You were his only friend at the school and he had studying to focus on. You, he thought, were too good for him anyways.

In the following years you grew to be attached at the hip. Always berated with questions as to if the two of you were dating, you both answered in equal shock with “Ewww!!!” and “I would never”... which had bothered him a little more than he liked to admit.

You spent lunch together. You spent time between classes together. Occasionally, you skipped class together. You spent your whole summer inseparable until the day you started your final year of college. And when that ended, you threw your graduation parties together. You had learned so much during those years. He had learned everything about you. Your dreams, your fears, your rocky history with men, what made you angry, what food you loved and hated, your favorite spots in town… everything.

The years that flash across your mind in only seconds snapped you back to the present situation.

In that short time, your mind had switched from the hurt you felt with others to fear. Fear that you were about to lose the best thing you ever had. Your best friend.

“Taerae. Taerae, come here…” You crawled over to him and, despite his protests, wrapped your arms around him. “I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I… I know you didn't mean to upset me.”

The boy’s tears had begun to flow openly and he was sobbing into the crook of your neck and shoulder. Sputtering apologies for getting tears and snot all over your shirt, pressing into your form.

“You've always been so sweet to me, even when I was messing with you and even when I didn't deserve it.” Every sentence you spoke drove him to be a complete and utter mess. You squeezed him tightly, securely, apologetically. “It was too much. The way I just yelled at you… It just struck a chord. I'm sorry. Nobody's ever treated me like you do.”

You said nothing more. Taerae had never seemed so small beneath your hold. You ran your hands through his wavy hair, hair that he recently had lightened to a lovely golden brown hue. With no lack of effort on your end, you managed to get his glasses off of his face and placed them on the carpeted floor beside you. You wanted to cry too. You wanted to cry and just say you were sorry over and over again. You resisted it even if only barely. The two of you never fought. Never.

When he calmed down enough, you let him go and gave his shoulder a tiny nudge. “Come on. Look at me.” Reluctantly he did.

His pretty brown eyes were puffy, blown wide, and glistening as he looked to you. “You… you don't hate me now?” Taerae's voice was meek in a way you hadn't seen since his last breakup. “I understand if you do…”

You spoke slowly, deliberately, and carefully to avoid revealing the extent in which he was breaking your heart right now. “Please. Hush.” You wiped the tears from his eyes with the knuckle of your finger. “I know you too well… I could never hate you. You're too kind, too gentle, too…”

Your next words came out in unison.

“Pathetic.”

“Perfect.”

Taerae's shocked expression was hardly repressed. “Perfect…? No. No no no, I'm anything but that. I'm nothing. Not compared to you.”

“Please don't make me tell you to shut up again. Hey… you're wearing the same sweater you were wearing when we met.”

“You remember that…?”

“I couldn't forget it if I tried to. You changed my life. We've done practically everything together for 5 years. If I lost you I don't think I'd ever be the same. Besides, it just looks so cute on you.”

Silence hung heavy in the air except for the background noise of Guy Fieri leaking from the television. All you two could do was stare at each other in a confusing meld of emotions. You fumbled for the remote, placing the tv on mute before you spoke.

“Hey.”

“Yeah, y/n…?”

“Would it be weird if I told you I'm in love with you?”

At that very moment Taerae felt like he had to be delusional. Maybe dead. Whatever he felt, there was no way you just said that to him.

“What…?”

It was your turn to shy away from his gaze.

“D- Do you mean it? Please don't toy with me like this. I can't take it. Please please don't do this to me. Don't break my heart.”

“You know I mean it, Tae. Do I lie to you?”

Taerae’s heart was stuck in his throat. Tears that never truly stopped had started once more. This time, accompanied by his smile that always extended ear to ear.

“Oh my god. Oh my god!” Taerae was absolutely beaming, giggling like a little kid. “I've dreamt about this day. I've liked you for years. I always pushed it away, thinking you'd never like me like that. You were seriously out of my league. Still are.”

Suddenly, you were pulled into a tight hug. You could feel his heart hammering in his chest. You'd be able to feel him crying too, if it weren't for the fabric of your shirt already being soaked.

“Oh, y/n. You were the first person in this city to treat me like I mattered. I've never truly been able to ignore my feelings, but… when you were laying there. So peaceful. So at ease with your head secure in my lap. I just wanted to love you.”

He paused only long enough to take a deep breath.

“I've always loved you but I wanted to love you. I wanted you to be mine and only mine. To hold you, to comfort you, protect you. Your pretty little face putting so much trust in me. I shouldn't be speaking like it was in the past. I want to. Present tense. I want to fall asleep with you and then every morning I want to wake up with you.”

Taerae’s next words were considered carefully.

“If we're bearing it all, I should admit this too. Earlier… it was a slip of the mouth but I meant it in a way. It wasn't some filthy joke to try and get under your skin or in your pants. But… I do want you that way. I guess… sexually… I just didn't want you to find out in such a way and I needed you to hear that I really care for you and wasn't just riled up because your face was near my bits.”

“Alright, that's enough.” You bit your lip and grabbed his left hand. The one he wore the spinning ring on way back then. “I want to kiss you. I can't talk anymore. I need you to feel that I love you. So, please. Can I kiss you?”

Taerae groaned in relief and giggled. “I've waited 5 years for this. God. You know my ex from last year? She was pretty and all but through all that I only wanted you. All that just to say… kiss me. I'm almost begging you to.”

The first connection of your lips was eager but soft, and sent shockwaves through your bodies. This is what you'd been missing. This is what he'd been missing. No amount of hot flings could've ever prepared you for how it was to kiss Taerae.

“Thank you.” You whispered against him. It only took a moment's time for your lips to clash again, this time more passionately. He tasted faintly of caramel and dark brewed coffee. The scent you caught from the collar of his shirt was new and sickeningly intoxicating. You were used to his natural scent by now and had always enjoyed it, but smelling it now with the velvety rich perfume was an entirely different sensation.

You weren't sure how experienced your dear friend was, but you were sure he'd never kissed anyone like this. His lips were pillowy and unexpectedly soft. Contradicting his generally unassertive nature, Taerae had decided there was enough surface level kissing. The surprise of him attempting to push his tongue into your mouth caught you off guard, causing you to yield easily. A soft whine rose from your throat, egging Taerae on.

“Having fun, yeah?” He chided at you, his typical humor coming back to him.

“Having fun, yeah?” You mocked. “Just keep kissing me, pretty boy.”

There were no complaints to be had on that command. One hand firmly on your back and the other holding the side of your face, Taerae's presence was domineering. The way his hands spread so far across you had you acutely aware of just how large they really are. You desperately wanted to know what those hands could do, but patience was a virtue you had to exercise.

“You taste so good, Tae~” Your face was red hot, almost humiliatingly so. Each time you pulled away from each other, saliva hung between you in heavy strands. You hadn't expected to be kissing your best friend, nor had you expected you'd be on the floor if it ever were to happen. Taerae leaned forward, guiding you carefully to rest your back against the front of the couch.

Taerae broke the kiss, both of your lips growing red. You let out a whine of dismay which was quickly silenced by him latching on to your neck, just below your ear. Taerae's warm breath against your skin made you shiver and you moved to grab on to the sleeve of his sweater.

“Shit- Tae, don't, I have to work tomorrow.” Despite your protests, you'd subconsciously craned your neck to grant him easy access.

“Hm?” He nipped lightly at your flesh. “Waited all this time but you want me to stop now?

“Fine, but if anyone says a word to me you'll never hear the end of it.”

“Hm. I can live with that.”

His onslaught against your neck was relentless, moving his way down toward your collarbones. Red and purple hues were now flowering on the expanse of your skin in deliberately placed blotches.

“Hey, switch it up.” You tapped his arm to get his attention, your message conveyed easily enough. Adjusting your respective positions and climbing onto the couch, you were now straddling Taerae’s hips. You cupped his face, lightly caressing his cheeks with your thumb. Your eyes fell upon him with adoration, taking in the views of his furrowed brows, glossy eyes, and blushing cheeks. With a loving sigh, you granted a small kiss to his cheek before taking his lips into yours once more.

You grasped one of his hands, guiding it to hover just above your chest. Between kisses you assured him it was alright for him to touch you, which he was happy to accept. Your breath hitched once he took your breast into his large hand and brushed his thumb across your nipple. The days in which you bothered to wear a bra around him had passed a couple years ago. Normally such a simple action wouldn't have brought much of a reaction, but this situation was far from ordinary. His massaging of your flesh was slow, almost hesitant, and he was clearly relishing it.

The kisses you exchanged were growing increasingly sloppy and desperate. Softly moaning and whimpering into each other's mouths, teeth occasionally scraping, tongue intertwining. Taerae was becoming increasingly excited, not only evidenced by his less coordinated movements but the growing bulge in his jeans as well. You took note of this and gave your hips an experimental roll. Taerae's brow twitched and he hissed, a small involuntary buck of his hips meeting.

“O-oh my god, y/n, hell.” He was hit with a sudden worry and shook his head slightly, now maintaining eye contact. “First. I know I want this… but are you sure you do? Really really sure? It's so sudden I… I don't want to pressure you into anything. I’d never forgive myself.”

“Idiot,” You chuckled. “I promise if I wasn't sure then I'd have stopped this by now. I want to be close to you, I want to feel you.”

Taerae flashed you a brilliant grin and settled his hands on your waist. You draped your arms over his shoulders, wrapping around to the back of his neck, and nestled your face against the crook of his neck. You swore you could almost feel his heart kiss a beat at the feeling of you licking a small stripe down the side of it.

“Just revenge.” You quipped, proceeding to suck circles into the delicate flesh and biting down gently.

“You gotta be trying to kill me, woman.” You granted him no audible reply.

You again started to move your hips against him, the friction of your panties and thin shorts against the rough denim sending a shock straight to your core. He was already becoming putty in your hands, pliant and gradually losing the dominant facade he'd earlier displayed. His hips came up to meet yours with breathy moans emitting from the two of you. Deciding you'd abused his poor neck enough, you pulled away from his neck. One hand now resting on his side, the other slipped under the thick sweater fabric but still above the white button up he donned beneath.

“Bet your ex never did this to you, hm?” Taerae about jumped out of his skin when your index and pointer finger pressed down on his nipple, rolling the sensitive bud beneath them.

He tossed his head back with a pathetic drawn out whimper. “Damnit, didn't know they were so fucking sensitive. You're right… but I’m so fucking glad you are now.” He swallowed his next breath hard and spoke shyly. “P-please, I like it, don't stop.”

Who were you to deny?

Your continued ministrations were of course pleasurable to you but nothing was quite as satisfying as the way Taerae was coming completely unraveled beneath you. His erection was straining painfully against his jeans now, every buck of his hips driving him just a bit more crazy, short noises of “ah, ah” falling loosely from his lips whenever you applied pressure to him again.

The grip your partner had on you was becoming almost painful but pleasantly so. Arousal filled eyes looking up admirably at you, his mind was spinning.

“Wait, wait, I'm close- so close.” Taerae warned but groaned at the sudden loss of friction when you stilled your hips.

“What's wrong? You wouldn't wanna be done already would you?” It was your turn to tease.

He shook his head and you pressed your forehead against his.

“I've got a question , Tae. You ever wondered what I taste like?”

“God, yes, s-so many times.”

“Right, then I've got an idea. Taerae. Do you wanna eat me out?”

“Fuck. Yes. Is that even a question?”

Taerae took his position back on the floor, legs folded neatly beneath him. You were lounging against the back of the couch with legs open wide to grant him access. Taerae ran his hands along your thighs. He'd seen them many times before, years of ignoring how much he wondered how they'd feel.

“Come on,” You whined, “not to be all impatient but I really would love some relief right about now.”

Taerae hooked his fingers beneath the waistband of your shorts, urging you to lift your hips, and pulled them off of you. He swore his mouth watered at the sight of you. Your underwear were simple, your typical bikini style. They were sky blue, ribbed cotton, with a tiny white bow right on the middle of the waistband.

“Ah, cute.” Taerae laughed lightly and leaned in, placing a kiss on your inner thigh. “Never took you for someone to wear anything but skin tone panties.”

“You've… thought about it?” You looked to the side shyly as if he was looking at your face anyways.

“Mhm. Thought about a lot of things.”

Taerae left sloppy open-mouthed kisses along the inside of your thighs, pulling at the skin softly with his teeth. He took in every little twitch of your muscles and every little noise you made.

“Alright alright, I'll stop teasing.”

Taerae removed your panties, biting his bottom lip harshly. You squirmed, self conscious under the intensity of his gaze.

“Fuckin’ beautiful…” He muttered under his breath and gave your clit a playful lick which made you jump. Arms situated on either side of your hips, Taerae delved into you eagerly, coating the lower half of his face in your juices in little time. “Baby, you're so wet, shit.”

You ran one hand through his fluffy hair, assuring that it was all because of him, all for him. He granted you a sloppy lick along the entirety of your cunt eagerly. He nuzzled into you, tongue delving into your core. Every movement felt electric to you, drowning in the sensation of his nose bumping into your clit, losing yourself more and more when you focused in on the sounds of his mouth against you and the way he panted whenever he paused to catch his breath. One of your hands was pressed against your mouth to stifle your moans while the other grabbed at Taerae’s hair.

You yanked at the locks unintentionally harsh when Taerae’s lips latched onto your clit, sucking eagerly with his tongue pressing against it lightly. The sting of his scalp solicited a choked groan deep from his throat. You took note of it, realizing there was definitely a reason he enjoyed it so much when you played with his hair all the time. Cute.

Taerae had yet to notice the fact he was rutting his hips against the couch, far too focused on eating you out as if he'd never get the chance again. For all he knew, he wouldn't. He removed his right hand from your leg and dipped two fingers into your opening, plunging them in and out progressively deeper as they were coated with your wetness. You'd given up on keeping quiet by now, the hand previously over your mouth now pinching your nipple through your shirt.

“Feels so good,” You gasped out. Taerae curled his fingers, eventually locating the spot that made you cry out. You felt him smile, narrowing in on it and using his free hand to lightly press his palm flat over your pubic bone.

“There you go, just like that.” He purred, picking up his pace. Your chest was heaving, your mind reeling and leaving you wondering where he learnt this and how the hell he got so good at it. His ex crossed your mind but you couldn't be bothered to feel jealous at the moment. Not when the callused pads of his fingers were abusing your g-spot.

“Tae, I'm gonna- Please please just don't stop!” You begged incoherently to him. Taerae’s hips stuttered against the couch, not realizing just how close he was until it was too late. He grunted, desperately chasing his high until he pushed over the edge, his seed spilling out to ruin the expensive denim of his jeans. His moans reverberated through your nerves, bringing you to ecstasy moments after he came. Your thighs shook and clamped around his skull which only encouraged him to ride through both of your orgasms.

“Thank you, thank you, thank you-” Taerae soaked in your praises, freeing himself from the grasp of your legs once you had calmed down.

“Good god, you're good.” You took deep breaths, trying to regain composure. Taerae stood up and leaned over you so he could kiss your forehead and hold your cheek.

“Thank you, love,” Taerae avoided eye contact and scratched his arm. “I, uhm, I may have finished… I’m really sorry.”

“Trade me places. Don’t apologize. Don't worry. I'll clean you up real nice.” You smirked.

If his situation didn't feel real before, it did now. You were looking up at Taerae, fumbling to undo his belt until you could remove it and toss it to the side. You handed him his glasses with the insistence he should be able to see you perfectly.

Taerae considered his words carefully. “This is crazy, all of this. I… think we're past the point of hiding anything. I've stayed up so many nights buried deep in a toy, pretending and wishing so badly that it was you. Now you're here, unzipping my pants…”

His statements made your ears hot while you instructed him to help you out, pulling his pants down to his ankles. He was just in his sweater and underwear now, navy blue plaid boxers complete with a sizable wet patch at the front.

“What else did you think about? Don't be shy. I wanna know.” You lightly squeezed the form of his dick with a mumble. “Such a mess you've made.”

“Well, I-” Taerae’s voice caught in his throat when you started to palm at his groin, agonizingly slow and deliberate. “You remember all those times some freak wouldn't leave you alone so you grabbed my hand and declared how you were taken?”

You placed a kiss just below his navel, right on his happy trail. “Of course I was happy to help you out before all else… but at night I’d always think about how small your hands felt around mine.”

You pulled his boxers down, enough for his dick to spring out and land against his stomach with a wet slap. A drawn out groan filled the room.

“Oh my- has anyone ever told you that your cock is beautiful?” It really was. He wasn't the longest, sitting at what you guessed was 6 inches, but he was girthy. His dick curved upward pleasantly, adorned with a couple prominent veins and a pale pink head. Everything was amplified by the thick white liquid coating the length of it.

You rested your head against his thigh, lazily stroking up and down, taking in the view, and smiling a little at the feeling of Taerae petting your hair. The moment was tender, uncharacteristically quiet. He looked at you like you were his whole world, whispering praises of how pretty you are, soaking in the sensations.

“Alright, I did say I’d clean you up, yeah?”

You licked a long stripe up the underside of Taerae's dick, gathering some amount of his seed on your tongue as you did so. You swallowed it eagerly and stuck out your tongue with an “ahh” to let him see there was nothing remaining. You continued your job with excitement, leaving small licks across the skin until the only residue left was your saliva.

You wrapped a hand around the base of his cock and took the tip into your mouth. You tongued at his slit, noting the way he shuddered. Neglecting to give any meaningful warning, you took a deep breath through your nose and pushed yourself down on his length, gagging a bit when the head touched the back of your throat.

“Fuck!” Taerae’s hand grabbed a fistful of your hair. “Where'd you learn to do that? Ngh- actually, don't tell me. I can't stand to t-think about your lips on anybody but me.”

You pulled your head off of him with a pop and looked up with pleading eyes.

“Please, I want you… in me.” You couldn't understand how you felt so bashful with Taerae considering how long you'd known him. You mulled over it for a moment, deciding it was reasonable enough to feel embarrassed to be begging any man for anything.

Something switched on within Taerae’s mind. “Alright, up.” He patted his thigh, guiding you to straddle him with the head of his cock brushing against your entrance.

“You sure, baby?” You nodded. “Ready? Promise? I want to hear you say it.”

“I promise, need you.”

“Good girl.”

Taerae used his hand to slide his cock between your folds, using the other to urge you to sink your hips down.

“A-ah, Taerae!” You cried and pressed your head into his neck. He swore he could've cum on the spot. You'd used his full name before. Plenty of times, really. Normally you were just calling for him across the room. Maybe scolding him for saying something dumb, or even yelling at him as you had done not even an hour prior. This was… different.

“Come on,” He gently pried you from his body. His eyes sparkling, looking at you like you were his entire world, pride swelling in his chest. “Hold on tight.”

You flung your arms around him happily, regaining your position by his throat. Taerae's hands grabbed firmly at your hips as he started to thrust in to you.

“Good god, so tight.” Taerae growled. The stretch was incredible, your walls clenching around him. The initial sting was soothed quickly. You could've sworn Taerae was made for you in every way. His personality, his care, the way your bodies slotted together, how satisfyingly he filled your cunt.

Both of you swore up and down you usually lasted longer but between the surges of emotion longing, you were reaching your peaks quite rapidly.

Taerae was basking in how you begged for him to speed up, unknowingly stroking his ego. He smirked with satisfaction, you were finally his… and he needed to hear it out loud.

“You want more?” His voice was low and velvety in your ears. “Right. Then tell me who's wrecking you? Who do you belong to?”

“You, Tae-” His nails dug into your sides with his thrusts intensifying swiftly. “Belong to you, don't want anyone else. Just Taerae-”

His hips snapped roughly upward, letting himself set a brutal pace.

“That's right, y/n. Mine. Don't need anybody else.”

Your ramblings had devolved to moans with the occasional coherent utterance of Taerae's name, thanks, and praises.

“Getting close, hon?” Taerae's breath was shaky and hot, his mind clouding with the pleasure that washed over him in waves.

You nodded fervently, pleading with him to keep going, to let you finish. Granting him permission to cum inside before he had even asked. With a series of high moans, your orgasm hit you like a semi, clamping your teeth down on the side of Taerae’s neck hard.

“Fuck!” Taerae yelped and planted himself firmly within you, pushed to his limit by the way you desperately rutted your hips against his in an attempt to drag out your high. His cum covered your walls in white hot ropes with every twitch of his cock, filling you up until it began to seep out of you and down to his balls.

For a few moments, everything was quiet other than both of your exhausted pants. You clung to him like he wasn't corporeal, like he was going to disappear if you let him go, feeling his heart beating forcefully beneath his sweater. You pulled off of him, mourning the loss of his cock and the sticky liquid that flowed freely from your hole.

Coming back to reality, insecurity grabbed hold of you cruelly and you held back tears.

“T-Taerae…?”

His hand rubbed your back reassuringly.

“Yes?”

“Do you still love me?”

“What kind of silly question- Nevermind.” Taerae squeezed you into a hug and wiggled back and forth. “Of course I do. Sure you just took me to another planet but I told you that's not the only reason I love you. I promise.”

Your stomach growled in the silence, reminding you of what had gotten you to this situation in the first place.

“I'm sorry again, Tae. I love you so so so much…”

Taerae made a noise of acknowledgement. “I love you too. Hey, you still hungry?”

“God damn I almost forgot. Can we get chinese?”

“What? You just had korean! But, if that's what you want then I guess so…”

“Oh, shut up!” You laughed and pinched Taerae wherever you could grab.

Taerae removed you from his arms, peppering tiny kisses all over your face and hands.

“Get up so we can clean up, alright? Then I’ll call in the order and you can take a nap. I'll wake you up when it gets here.”

You nodded happily, following him to the bathroom while he switched on the showerhead. You both tossed your shirts to the side and hopped under the hot water, embracing each other once again.

“Thanks for pissing me off, Tae.”

“Yeah. Thanks for not killing me on the spot.”

[waterdeep-weavemoss]

Parley

This one's a little fucked up. A nonconsensual kiss (and immediate consequences for it) but no more than that.

All she had to do was think about where she wanted to go.

'Our connection is so strong,' he'd murmured in her ear, 'that I will find you wherever you are.'

From Gale it would've been a promise. From the devil, a threat. I must keep my word, she thought. She'd left camp; her friends were still unsure about this plan... was he right? Did they not have faith in her? The thought made her angry; out there in the middle of the forest, surrounded only by the deep green of ancient trees and the music of birdsong, she closed her eyes. Taking a deep breath, she conjured the memory of him. Fire and cherries and depth and that awful scent that was only the Hells.

A heartbeat, and she was suddenly washed in heat. Opening her eyes, she found herself staring at the banquet table, completely laden with food.

'Little mouse,' purred a voice in her ear. Of course he wouldn't face me, she thought. She tensed and he laughed, knuckles ghosting up her spine. 'So good of you to join me. I'm a patient man, but you really were beginning to test my limits.'

'I'm here to parley,' she said. 'It's not a social call.'

'It's not?' He feigned surprise, looping his arms around her, hands resting on her belly. Clenching her jaw in anger she turned to face him, glaring fiercely despite the fact the top of her head barely reached his chest.

'Do you realise what you've done?' she hissed, shoving the fear tangling inside her back down. 'Gale's missing. He won't tell anyone what he's planning, least of all me...' she shoved ineffectually at the devil. 'He ripped out your heart.'

He smirked. 'No, little mouse. Poor thing, you have no idea, do you? It's here.' He pressed a clawed hand to her breast, over her own heart. 'There's such darkness in your own now, it might as well be mine.'

He's messing with my head. 'You have no idea what you're talking about.'

'Look,' he said, drawing her forward, taking her shoulders, pointing her at one of the gaudy mirrors. There they stood, some awful parody of romance, his claws breaking skin. Tav's eyes widened in horror as she understood what she was seeing. From her heart, darkness had begun to seep, cold and smothering.

'What- the fuck is happening?!'

'That wizard of yours hasn't been entirely truthful, has he? You poor darling. He's lying to you, the vampire feels the need to protect you as if you aren't fully capable of that, the famed Blade is nowhere to be found... and you are here. With me.' He moved a possessive hand to the pulse in her neck. 'Nobody is going to save you. You must know it. But then perhaps you will save yourself. Perhaps you will leave this place dripping in my blood. But you are such a tiny thing, with no help to call for and no hope left.'

And the darkness of some evil magic coiled in my chest. You have no idea what I'm capable of.

'You're wrong,' she said, ripping away from him. His claws dragged on her shoulders, leaving deep gouges. She was so incensed she barely felt it, however.

'Come now,' he said softly. 'We can be civil about this. Sit. Eat. You look famished. This is a place of rest.'

She could feel blood coursing down her back. Raphael tutted as she tried to stem the flow with her hands. 'Now look. How are you to eat with your hands covered in blood? Come here.' In one graceful movement, he closed a hand around her wrist and before she could protest the flat of his tongue was in her palm, lapping up the blood. He groaned in satisfaction, shooting her a look of such pure lust it made her stomach turn.

'What the fuck is wrong with you?' she croaked. Her mouth was suddenly dry, her heart slamming in her ribs. 'You can't just-'

He cut her off, the forceful crush of his mouth on hers throwing her off balance and allowing him to pull her tightly against him. His bloodied tongue slid into her mouth; he was taking, and taking, and then he pulled back and she could breathe again. Tav dry heaved, the taste of her own blood heavy on her tongue, then pulled her hand back to land a sharp slap to his face. The sound rang against the walls. Raphael blinked down at her in shock for a moment and then smiled indulgently.

'You're getting better at this, you tricky little vixen,' he said. 'Now. We were going to have dinner. You promised, after all, and a woman like you always keeps her word, doesn't she?'

Tags:

@bluerosetarot @dansnotavampire @further-than-forever

@forget-me-maybe @poetryvampire @sasha199 @wandawillow

@boufsy @owlseeyoulaterpal @lanafofana @amorgansgal

@auroraesmeraldarose @aryancunin @miradelletarot @marlowethebard

@crimson-and-lavender @reeseykins @medra-gonbites

@roguishcat @weaverofnetheril @galedekarioswifey @hyperfixationstation128 @lastlight-inn

@astarryvamp @feedthepheasants @dabigstinky @dreamingofthewild @ladyofcrowsandcoffee

[cognacandlilac]

To the Depths - Part Six - NSFW

(Pirate!Silco x F!Reader) Promises and Pomegranates

AO3 - Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3.1 - Part 3.2 - Part 4 - Part 5

Rating: Explicit/MDNI Chapter Summary: You come face to face against an impossible creature and it royally screws with your understanding of reality. Will Silco help you? Chapter Warnings/Tags: this chapter is SFW. Don't you worry, more smut is coming <3 A/N: Not beta'd because I'm trying to feed my momentum monster. She's starving and she's mean.

You stand in place, still staring up at the towering monster of living water. A part of your mind understands that it is about to snap at the ship like a wild animal but the thought is simply too impossible to comprehend. 

“Torches!” Sevika shouts sharply enough to drag your attention back to the deck and crew. You are not the only one frozen with fear and disbelief. Most of the crew cannot seem to believe their eyes either. 

“Torches!” Sevika snarls and shoves the nearest crewmember. This sends them scurrying off to illuminate the ship as much as possible. Your gaze drags back up the column of water to the beastly head and glowing eyes. Its neck reminds you somewhat of a snake, coiled to strike. 

When its head darts forward toward the deck, you at least have the good sense to brace yourself. The beast thuds against the ship as though it is made of pure, solid matter. You are knocked clean off your feet, unable to stop yourself from colliding with the railing. Breath leaves your lungs in a sharp gust just in time for a rush of water to slam against your body. 

Gasping, sputtering, and dazed, the only thing you can think to do is look for Silco but you don’t see him. An unexpected stab of pain blooms in your chest that has nothing to do with the physical blows your body just experienced. 

He left you to fend for yourself. 

You should not be surprised. Why would you expect anything different? So what if he danced with you and briefly participated in a conversation that didn’t consist of throwing insults at each other? That does not change the fact that you are a prisoner. Less than that, even. You’re a stolen commodity. 

A lump rises in your throat and you tell yourself it’s because the pain in your right side is growing more intense by the moment. No other reason. 

You know why you are here. You know where you stand. 

The water creature lets out another shrill roar as its glowing eyes scan the deck. Your eyes follow the serpentine curve of its neck to where its body meets the deck and continues, rising over the railing, not unlike the way a snake’s body slides over a branch. Yet, as water pours off of its form, it never changes size. 

It strikes again, aiming at Locke who manages to dive out of the way. Like before, the brace of its impact rocks the ship. This time, you are able to see the way water bursts from its body and rolls across the deck the way a rogue wave would roll across a calm sea. 

What in the hell is it? 

“Princess, you either need to get moving or get fighting. I don’t care which one you do. Just don’t get in the way.” Sevika brushes by you with a vicious look in her eyes as she attaches what looks to be some kind of miniature harpoon to the end of her mechanical arm. 

You nod, though Sevika has already moved her attention back to the water creature. 

“Bring its head down!” She barks at whoever is within earshot. 

You try to make yourself move in any direction for any purpose but you simply can’t. Your mind is racing and grappling with the reality in front of you, leaving your body stuck in a state of awe and terror. It is only when a crewmate, the same one who nearly came to blows with Locke, crashes against the deck in front of you. 

“Fuckin’ waterwyrms,” he grumbles as he scrambles to his feet just in time to avoid another wave rolling off the body of the beast.

A waterwyrm. An apt name that scratches along the outer edge of your frazzled memory. You cannot chase after it just now. 

The clatter of metal pulls your attention and you realize a thick dagger has fallen from the belt of the swearing crewmate. You call out for him, realizing too late that you never learned his name. Not that it matters. You can’t see him anymore. 

You reach for the dagger, figuring it’s better to arm yourself in one way or another while you decide what you’re going to do. 

The storm the other day was frightening but familiar. You’d sailed through storms before. You knew what to do, to an extent and if you didn’t, the crew was there to set you right. But that isn’t the case now. 

Only a handful of the crewmates crisscrossing the deck seem to know what they’re dealing with. The rest wear expressions you imagine are similar to the one on your face right now. You are not the only one out of your depth with this. 

The dagger is heavier than you expected and, truth be told, you do not know how to wield it. The closest thing you’ve held to this is an engraved letter opener that you keep on your bedside table at home, just in case. 

You struggle to decide whether or not to keep the dagger or discard it but you cannot remain rooted in place like this. You are completely unprotected. Once you find a bit of shelter, you can organize your thoughts, and pull yourself together. 

A flickering instinct tugs at your mind. It whispers to you, urging you to find Captain Silco. He’s supposed to keep you from harm until you are returned safely to your father and fiance. That was the agreement. 

A cruel stab of logic reminds you that not even Silco could offer absolute protection against a creature of myth and magic, especially not one that is determined to flood the ship with its watery form. Besides, Silco did not hesitate to abandon you once the waterwyrm rose from the black sea. 

Another flash of hurt sears into your chest and you quickly replace the hurt with anger, unwilling to allow your ego to be bruised by that man more than it already has. Enough is enough. The familiar clarity of anger awakens the part of your mind that had gone hazy with shock at the sight of the waterwyrm. 

You need to get to a safe place. Quickly. You flee, heading toward the stern, nearly tripping with every step as you do so. As much as you do not want to look at it, you keep your eyes fixed on the waterwyrm. Perhaps, if you were seeing it in a painting or sketch, you would find it beautiful but not here. Not when it’s real and dangerous and hell-bent on fracturing your reality. Things like this only exist in stories. 

Then again, you thought Silco only existed in stories, and look how that has panned out for you. 

With a soft groan, you keep moving forward. Even in the most dire of situations, the Captain still manages to snake his way to the forefront of your mind. The thought stokes your anger and you cling to it as you navigate around the scrambling crewmates and thrashing waterwyrm. It has slithered around to the port side of the ship, an equal distance from the bow and stern. This would be a good thing if you didn’t feel a spray of water coming from behind you. You look over your shoulder to see its watery, snake-like tail rising on the opposite side of the ship. 

You’ve seen plenty of sketches of mythical krakens wrapping their tentacles around ships to squeeze them into splitters. Could a waterwyrm do such a thing? 

The tail swings like a whip, heading right toward you. You dive forward, evading the tail but you’ve realized you’re now scrambling to find your footing right beside the great neck of the beast. You gaze up, tipping your face all the way back to look at its head. Its attention is drawn elsewhere, for the moment. Instead of moving away, you feel the weight of the dagger in your hand. 

You look at the rippling, translucent body of the waterwyrm. Surely, if it is solid enough to perch on the deck as it wreaks havoc, it is solid enough to feel the pierce of a blade. Without thinking twice, you lift the dagger and stab it into the side of the waterwyrm. The dagger pieces its watery hide like a hot knife through butter.

It does…nothing. 

No, that isn’t true. It’s done something. It’s gotten the beast's attention. The waterwyrm’s serpentine neck swivels and bends, bringing its head down until it is looking you right in the eye. Those blue orbs glow and shine like fire. It has no pupils but you know it’s looking right at you, into you. 

With a low, gurgling hiss, it opens its mouth. 

The anger that propelled you forward evaporates, leaving you with nothing but a cold, hollow sense of fear. You cannot move. You are vaguely aware that the dagger has slipped from your hand and has clattered onto the deck. 

Every inch of your skin, every drop of blood, every bone screams at you to run but you can’t. You can’t look away from the waterwyrm’s eyes. Now you see the beauty of such a creature, though the notion is far from soothing. 

You will be swallowed up by its hungry maw. 

You wonder if it will kill you by drowning or if its teeth are more solid than they appear. You wonder which you’d prefer. Probably the latter. You’ve never seen someone drown, but enough of your father’s men have had close enough brushes with such a watery death that you know it’s unpleasant.

It occurs to you that this is the first time you’ve pondered your own death. It always seemed like such a faraway thing. An inevitable thing, like a candle blowing out. You would be here and then you would be gone. You never gave much thought to what happened in between. The act of dying itself. 

A crack rings out and it doesn’t fully register with you that something has happened before the waterwyrm’s head reels back. It snarls and snaps, howling with rage. Something bright and sparkling falls in front of your face. 

“Yes!” Jinx’s delighted laugh is out of place with everything happening around you as she appears by your side. She scoops up the bright, shining thing. With a slow blink, you realize it’s one of the waterwyrm’s eyes. She slips it into her pocket. Its glow is so intense it shines through the fabric of her pants. 

“You should probably move,” Jinx says, putting a hand on your shoulder and tugging you back toward the weather deck. “I just made that thing really angry and I still need the other eye.”

She turns you a little and gives you a small shove in the direction of the weather deck. There, at the top of the steps, you see Silco with a rifle in hand. As always, he looks eerily still amongst the chaos. His ocean eye is bright and focused as he watches the waterwyrm.

You dart forward and start to climb the stairs, but your legs have gone wobbly. You stumble near the top, reaching out and catching yourself on his leg to keep yourself from sliding down the steep steps. 

“You’re alright, treasure.” You feel a large, gentle hand on the back of your head. “Stay right there. This will be over and done with soon.”

Several words leap into your mouth but none of them make it past your tongue. You find that you can do nothing but cling to his leg and hope his words ring true. 

“Line it up for me, minnow,” Silco orders. You see a flash of blue as Jinx scrambles up the nearest mast and begins to wave and shout at the waterwyrm. The half-blind beast whips its head around, teeth bared and snarling with fury. You close your eyes, not wanting to look upon it anymore but that is worse. The moment you close your eyes, all you see is the waterwyrm bearing down on you, ready to devour you. Your eyes snap back open just as the waterwyrm strikes at Jinx. Its head moves into the perfect position for Silco to take the shot, and he does. Another crack rings out, shooting right into your bones. The second glowing eye comes loose. This time, Jinx is able to catch it before it hits the deck. 

And then, you aren’t fully sure what happens. The waterwyrm moans weakly, its head swaying as it struggles to keep itself upright. It begins to collapse, as though it’s been mortally wounded rather than blinded. You cling harder to Silco’s leg, bracing for an impact that could be severe enough to damage the ship. Just before the waterwyrm’s limp body hits the deck, it melts into water. Thick droplets of seawater smash into the surface of the deck like a vicious rain, but that’s all that happens. 

Your brow furrows with confusion before you look up at Silco. He sets the rifle aside before reaching down to help you to your feet. Around you, the crew checks for damage to the ship. Some look exhausted and annoyed. Most look as confused as you feel. Sevika looks as though she’s just eaten a whole lemon. You briefly wonder what she must have seen in her life for something like the waterwyrm to be considered little more than an inconvenience. 

“Those glowing stones gave life to the water,” Silco explains, his voice gentle and filled with patience that makes something hurt inside of your chest. “Remove the stones, remove the problem. The stones are very valuable as well, as you can probably imagine.”

You nod, though it’s a jerky, automatic response to his words. You hear them. You know what you saw. But your mind just refuses to accept that something like that can exist in your world. 

“Are you hurt?” Silco keeps speaking to you in that low, gentle voice. You hate it. You don’t want to see that softness in him. You don’t want it to steady you or soothe you. 

“I’m fine,” you manage, though you’re not certain that’s the truth. You feel like you are going to keel over at any second. 

“You’re bleeding.” Jinx glides up to your side, ever the helpful little wraith, and lightly touches your arm. Sure enough, there is a gash stretching nearly from elbow to wrist on the underside of your forearm. You can’t even feel it, though you decide that’s a good thing for now. 

“Get her down to the doctor, minnow.” Silco’s good eye fills with something you refuse to acknowledge as regret, possibly even worry, when he looks at the wound on your arm. 

“So much for not allowing damage to your cargo,” you mutter as you let Jinx lead you below deck. She takes you to the bottom level of the ship. You pass dozens of hammocks strung up and layered over each other as well as an assortment of trunks and personal belongings. 

“Do you sleep down here?” You ask her. 

“I bunk on my own,” Jinx explains, but does not offer more details.  

You pass three iron cells, each fitted with several pairs of shackles. They are all empty and, thankfully, look as though they’ve been empty for a while. You briefly wonder if you were meant to occupy one of the cells. Why did Silco insist on watching over you so closely when he could have thrown you down here and been done with it?

Just past the cells is a solid wall made from spare bits of wood. Though it looks sturdy enough, it’s quite slapdash. Gaps between planks allow you to see glimpses into the room beyond. The wood bulges and indents in strange ways. With a small start, you realize the wall is made of pieces of other ships. Perhaps, ships the Zaun’s Revenge attacked and scuttled while looking for goods.

There are two crude doors set into the makeshift wall. 

“I sleep there.” Jinx points to one of the doors. Its placement against the wall implies that it’s the smaller of the two rooms. She points to the other door. “That leads to the laboratory. It’s best if you wait for me or the Captain to bring you down here if you ever have a need to see the doctor.”

“Oh?”

“He’s nice, usually,” Jinx shrugs. “But he gets very annoyed if his work is interrupted. He’ll always help you if you need it, though.”

Jinx raps her knuckles against the door. Through the gaps in the slats, you see warm candlelight but also some kind of glowing, purplish light you cannot envision a source for. There is no answer from inside the laboratory but that doesn’t stop Jinx from pushing in. 

The room is small, though the curved hull of the ship that makes up one wall allows for a little extra space. All manner of indistinguishable items have been cleverly stored where the room comes together to form the underside of the bow.

Tucked against the curved wall is a desk cast in shadow by a tall, thin figure whose black coat seems to eat the light around him. Shelves fitted to the curve of the hull contain jar after jar of that strange purple powder. The jars glow faintly in the darkness of the room. 

The man does not look up from his desk nor does he acknowledge the presence of two new people in the cramped space. 

“This is where I work on projects.” Jinx taps a cluttered workbench stocked to the point of overflowing with metal bits and bobs, screws, nuts, bolts, and plenty more objects that you can’t identify. The walls around her workbench are covered in sketches and schematics, designs of a mechanical nature. You spot a page with the words ‘MAGNETIC CANNONBALL’ scrawled across the top in big, messy letters surrounded by complex equations you can’t ever hope to untangle. The sight makes you smile a little. 

“Mr. Doctor, we are in need of your assistance,” Jinx chirps and taps on the bony shoulder of the man. He glances back at her with a foggy look that is somehow both dazed and focused. He wears a cloth tied around the lower half of his face in some kind of makeshift mask. 

“Hm,” he grunts softly before turning around to face you fully. You bite the inside of your cheek so you do not react to the severe burns covering the previously hidden side of his face. His other eye is surrounded by scar tissue so thick he can barely open it, which doesn’t seem to matter since the eye itself is a pale, milky color. Despite that, you can still make out dark hollows under both of his eyes. 

His functional eye quickly examines your body, spotting the laceration on your arm. 

“What happened there?”

You open your mouth to explain, but you aren’t actually sure how you injured yourself. “I’m not sure. I fell a few times during the waterwyrm’s attack.”

The doctor’s nonexistent eyebrows shift upward. “Waterwyrm?” 

“Yes, one just gave us a hell of a fight.” Jinx’s eyes spark with pride. “Nothing we couldn’t handle though. It looks like everything held up in here just fine.”

She looks toward the shelves and she’s right. Despite the viciousness of the waterwyrm’s attack, not even a single pen looks as if it’s rolled out of place. 

“Good, good,” he nods, taking a step forward on spindly legs. “Come into the light, please.”

You do as you are asked, holding out your arm for him to examine. His long fingers wrap around your wrist and put the icy grip of the reaper to shame with their coldness. 

“You truly did not notice that the ship was under attack Mr…Doctor?” 

“I have learned how to maintain focus in even the most unlikely situations. Besides, the Captain and crew are more than capable of handling any dangers the sea flings at us.” He chuckles softly, the sound reminiscent of scraping bones, before speaking again. “Singed. Only the little one calls me Mr. Doctor.”

Singed. Surely, that is not his true name. You find yourself staring at the ruin of his face until you remember yourself and force your eyes down. 

“It’s quite alright,” Singed says as he moves to one of the heavily stocked shelves and retrieves squares of pristine white cloth and two glass vials each the size of your thumb. “For all of my faults, vanity was never one of them.” 

He holds up the first vial filled with clear liquid. “Clean your wound with this first and wait for the bleeding to stop.” He holds up the second vial, half filled with liquid the same vibrant purple as the powder. “This will encourage healing. I suggest you ask the Captain for assistance. It is most potent in its liquid form.”

“But what is it?” You ask softly, taking both of the vials as well as the scraps of clean cloth. 

“Have you received advanced education in biology, chemistry, anatomy, pathology, and alchemy?”

Your eyes widen. “I have not.”

“Then all you need to know is that this is something that will help you.” There is a slightly condescending tone in the doctor’s voice but you don’t have the energy to let it pinch your pride.

“We call it shimmer,” Jinx says with a helpful smile. 

“You call it shimmer,” Singed corrects, turning his attention back to his desk. “That is an inaccurate and purely cosmetic name.” 

“It’s catching on with the crew so you should get used to it,” Jinx shrugs before ushering you out of the cramped laboratory. 

“Thank you,” you call over your shoulder but Singed is already engrossed in his work once more. You follow Jinx above deck, staring at the little vial of glowing purple liquid. The crew has largely recovered from dealing with the waterwyrm. Considering the violence of the attack, it did little damage to the ship.

“Oh, rats!” Jinx groans softly, lightly placing her fingers over the glowing stones in her pocket. “I forgot to give these to Mr. Doctor.” She hurries back below deck, leaving you alone. You aren’t sure if you’re grateful for the solitude or not. 

Your mind still feels caught, stretched thin over the gap between what you thought you knew and what you now know to be true. You move toward the Captain’s cabin without thinking about it.  

There are stones that somehow bring water to life. You grew up listening to myths and legends from all corners of the world. While many were soaked in magic and impossibility, you also knew the ocean still held many secrets and mysteries. You just didn’t think the secrets would be so close to the myths. 

Desperate for something to occupy your mind, you dig through your memories for scraps of any myth containing the waterwyrm. Nothing comes to mind. Frustrated, you push into the Captain’s cabin to find it empty. Both relief and disappointment settle like stones on your chest. You toss the stone of disappointment away and will yourself to be happy for a moment to tend to your wounds alone. 

While the bed looks welcoming, you choose to perch on the desk instead. You briefly consider sitting in Silco’s chair but you can’t bring yourself to do it. 

It’s…his. Somehow, sitting in that chair feels more intimate than sharing a bed. 

You place the vials and the cloth on an empty part of the desk. 

Heat rushes to your cheeks as the image of your hands intertwined with his, bent over the desk, as he took you from behind fills your mind. Something tugs low in your belly as the need for a distraction attempts to disguise itself as desire. 

Your upper lip curls in forced disgust, but you cannot summon any anger behind the motion. You call your anger over and over, wishing to wrap yourself in it to shield yourself from the strange feelings fighting to form within you. It does not come. 

With a slow, deep breath, you turn your attention to the clean cloth squares and the first vial of clear liquid. You open it and take a sniff. It’s nothing more than a simple disinfectant if your nose is to be trusted. 

Singed instructed you to ask the Captain for help with the shimmer. Even if the idea of asking Silco for help was palatable, you aren’t sure you want to put shimmer anywhere near an open wound without a better understanding of what it is. 

You soak one of the cloths in a small amount of disinfectant and brace yourself as you press it to your wound. The stinging pain rips through you, far worse than the pain of the injury itself. 

Tears prick at the backs of your eyes and you go stone still, keeping the cloth pressed to your wound. The threat of tears has allowed a tiny spark of anger to rise. You clutch those sparks hard and throw them against the feeling your tears wish to bring forth. The sting grows until you can’t stand it anymore. 

Just as you remove the cloth from your wound with a small sound of frustration and anguish, the cabin door opens. 

“There you are.” Silco steps into the room and lets the door swing shut behind him. He locks it with mindless movements as his eye focuses on the sight of you sitting on the edge of his desk. Worry flickers behind his ocean eye. “What are you doing?”

“The kind doctor gave me something to patch myself up with.” You hold up the cloth as though it’s obvious. “The experience has been less than pleasant.”

“Have you ever had to tend to a wound like that before?” He asks, that horrible softness returning to his voice as he approaches you. 

“I think you know the answer to that.” You try to put a little bite in your voice but fail to do so. 

“Perhaps, but I’ve learned several times now that underestimating you is a foolish thing to do.” He takes the cloth from your hand without a word and frowns. “Did you dilute this at all?”

Your cheeks feel hot. “The doctor didn’t mention that I’d need to do so.”

Silco removes the seal on the water pitcher near the vanity and wets the cloth before adding a drop or two of the disinfectant. “This will get the job done and sting far, far less.”

You hold out your hand to take the cloth but he ignores it. He moves close once more and holds your injured arm in his free hand before gently cleaning the rest of the gash. The sting is still there, but its bite is far less vicious. You find that you are able to breathe with some normalcy again, though something heavy still sits on your chest. 

“Ah,” Silco murmurs as he spots the vial of shimmer. “Excellent.”

“I don’t want…whatever that is,” you say quickly. 

“It’s perfectly safe when administered correctly, I assure you.” He opens the vial and the cabin is soon filled with a sweet, medicinal scent that makes your nose tingle. “I use it every day.”

You tilt your head. “You do?”

He meets your gaze before bringing his fingertips to the scars around his ruined eye. “It is the only thing that keeps the infection from progressing. It dulls the pain as well. I wouldn’t be fit to man a rowboat let alone captain a vessel without it.”

“Oh.” Your gaze dips to the vial in his hand before falling silent. 

Silco leans forward, bending down a little so his face is level with yours. “What, no quips? Surely, you can think of some remark to make about such a substance turning me inhuman.”

You say nothing. 

“Not even a little jab at my charming personality and wonderful temperament?” There is a teasing lilt to his voice but that softness still remains. 

You shake your head. You aren’t in the mood to trade barbed remarks, not that your mind would cooperate with you if you were. 

Silco sighs softly and returns his attention to the shimmer vial. He moves away from you for a moment to fish something out of one of the desk drawers. You hear something clinking and glance over from the corner of your eye. He holds a small glass eyedropper, which he cleans thoroughly with the remaining disinfectant. 

“This will make it easier,” he explains. “You really won’t need more than a drop or two.”

“Will…?” You start to ask but you swallow your question down, hoping he’ll be gracious enough to pretend you hadn’t spoken at all. 

“Will what, treasure?” He finishes cleaning the eyedropper and dries it off before giving you an expectant look. 

“Will it hurt?” The sting of the disinfectant nearly brought you to tears. Another strike of pain would be too much for you to fight through and you were not going to cry. Certainly, not in front of Silco. 

“Yes, but it’s an unusual sort of pain,” he explains. “It’s intense, but it’s quick. A bit like someone flashing a bright light in your eyes unexpectedly. Your senses will feel scrambled but, like I said, it’s quick.”

He loads up the eyedropper with just two drops of the violent purple liquid and takes hold of your arm once more. He looks at you, waiting for permission. You nod. 

A single shining drop falls from the end of the eyedropper onto your wound. You feel a tingling sensation for a fraction of a moment before something unlike anything you’ve ever felt before wracks through your body. Too much air is crammed into your lungs yet it also feels as though the wind has been knocked from your chest. Your veins feel as though they widening and narrowing, wriggling beneath your skin. It’s unbearable. 

And then it’s gone. 

You gasp hard and brace on the desk. 

“Easy, treasure,” Silco’s voice tethers you to reality. 

Your mind scrambles to right itself. You feel exposed, vulnerable. Your anger has failed you so you fight to call forth anything else that will shield you from the terrible weight on your chest and the tightness in your throat.

His quick hands wrap your forearm in soft, clean bandages before you have a chance to see what your wound looks like now. Already, you note the absence of physical pain. 

“That wasn’t so bad, was it?” His hand comes to rest in the middle of your back. You feel the warmth of his skin through the fabric of your shirt. Tears spring forth but you quickly scoot off the desk to stand in the middle of the room, out of his reach. 

“I’m rather tired.” You keep your back to him as you blink and blink and blink. 

“I imagine so.” His boots thud against the wooden floor as he moves to stand behind you but he does not try to touch you again. “You’ve had quite a fright.”

Once again, you feel a tiny spark of your anger ignite but it’s not enough to catch fire and burn away the terrible feeling that creeps in around you. You are not yet in control of your emotions enough to speak, to deny his words. 

“Most of the crew is in the same boat as you are, so to speak,” he says. “Waterwyrms are incredibly rare. I’ve only seen three, myself. Seeing something like that for the first time can be rattling.”

“I am not rattled,” you hiss. You clench your hands into fists to hide how much they shake as you move toward the bed. You sit down and fumble with the lacings of your boots until you’re able to shuck them off. “I’m tired.” 

For a moment, Silco looks as though he’s going to press the matter. A small part of you, one that you’d like to squash beneath your heel, wishes he would. 

He takes a half step back and nods. “Get some sleep, then. You’ve earned it.”

He takes a seat at his desk and goes through the motions of clipping and lighting a fresh cigar. The warm, spiced smell of it banishes the lingering scent of disinfectant and shimmer from the cabin. Something in your chest loosens, but you’re not sure if it’s a good thing. 

You slip out of your breeches and crawl under the covers, pressing yourself as close to the wall as you can with your back to Silco. The only sounds in the room are the faint scratching of his pen across parchment and his soft exhales whenever he takes a puff of his cigar. It’s not enough to hold your focus. 

Your mind begins to spin again. Your heart slams against your ribs but you tell yourself it’s nothing more than your body responding to the shimmer. 

You are not rattled. You are not frightened. You can handle this. You have handled everything life has flung cruelly into your path and you will continue to do so. You will remain in control, just as you always have. 

But you know that’s not true. The words float through your mind like a lullaby despite the threat they pose to your quickly fracturing resolve. It’s never been true. 

It becomes harder to keep your breathing slow and even. That horrible feeling continues to tighten its grip around your throat, growing stronger and stronger until you fear you won’t be able to break loose. You won’t be able to keep it at bay. You’ll have to feel it and know the truth of it. 

You are not rattled. You are not frightened. 

You’re terrified. 

And the moment you let yourself feel that terror, you’ll be lost.

Fear claws at your throat and sits on your chest, prepared to suffocate you. Already, you can feel it seeping through your skin and stealing your breath. 

Fear has come for you before, but you fought it off. It pounced on you the day your mother died but you evaded it, letting grief shield you. It tried to ambush you again the day your father abandoned you at the family estate but your anger was so great and so fierce that fear could not touch you. 

Now, your grief was a quiet, content creature resting near your heart alongside the memory of your mother. And your anger…where was it? How could it have abandoned you and left you so vulnerable?

There had to be something you could do. Fear would not reach you this time. It never had and it never will. 

Not true. Not true. Not true. The words skitter across your brain, less gentle than they were before. 

You fight the urge to scream, choosing to bite the inside of your cheek instead. It's no use. The truth has started to seep through the cracks of your mind and you have nowhere left to run. No place to hide.   

How close will you allow yourself to come to madness for the sake of clinging to such a fragile illusion? 

You only believed yourself to be capable because you had never faced a true challenge. Now that you had, now that you stared the waterwyrm in the eyes and saw death, you can no longer hide from what you are. A small, scared, stupid girl who doesn’t know a single thing about the world. 

You do not have the strength or skills to survive on your own without your father’s money and protection. If you fled your engagement, you might as well forfeit your life. If you allowed yourself to be caged within the gilded bars of marriage and societal expectations, you would never feel alive again. 

One way or another, death surrounds you. It does not matter if it’s a death of your body or a death of your spirit. Both are equally devastating in your eyes. There is no escape. 

You bite the inside of your cheek hard enough to taste blood as you keep fighting the cold sense of fear that tries to wrap you in its embrace. You can’t give in to it. You can’t allow yourself to feel it. You’d never be able to pull yourself out if you did. You don’t bother trying to call on your anger to help you keep fear at bay. You realize now that it did not abandon you. You’ve simply burned it all up. 

Only the faintest scrap of pride allows you to hold yourself together. If you are going to fall apart, it will not be on this damn ship surrounded by these damn pirates. 

You are so caught up in your own mind that you do not realize Silco has moved until you feel the bed shift beside you. You stay still, pretending to be asleep, not that it matters. Aside from your failed attempt to bring yourself some relief last night, Silco keeps his distance from you in bed. 

He shifts and rolls a bit before he seems to settle. Thinking he has fallen asleep, you allow your mind to resume its heavy task of stopping your fears from consuming you. 

A hand presses against your back. Your breath catches in your throat and it takes every bit of your frayed self-control to keep up the act of pretending to sleep. 

“Brave girl,” comes Silco’s soft whisper, so quiet you are unsure if you were meant to hear those words or not. 

Warmth spreads across your back, radiating from his palm. If you focus, you can feel the shape of every long, thin finger. It may be exhaustion, the shimmer, or the fact that you had your toe over the line of madness just a moment ago but you swear you feel him pressing against your back with every breath you take. His movements, if he’s moving at all, are slow and faint. When you feel him press, you extend your exhale. When he lightens the pressure, you inhale. Over and over until your breathing slows and your heart calms.

The urge to check if he’s awake or say his name gently pulls at you, but you let it pass. The peace of this moment is a fragile, hard-won thing that you aren’t ready to give up. Besides, if he actually is asleep and this is all in your head, you’d rather keep that to yourself. You continue to breathe slowly, focused on the way his hand feels against your back, and eventually allow sleep to take you. 

********

When you wake, you roll over to find an empty bed. You open your eyes, expecting to see Silco sitting at his desk like he usually does but he isn’t there. A small amount of relief fills you. You’re spared from confronting him after…whatever that was last night. 

Maybe you sent yourself into such a deep state of distress that you imagined it. But then that means that you imagined him for comfort, which might be worse. 

Your mind still feels clouded and sluggish as you dress and leave the cabin. Above deck, the air is still and there is not a cloud in the sky. The Zaun’s Revenge bobs gently on a calm sea. To the west, you spot a strip of land but no distinguishing landmarks that might tell you where you are. Your eyes scan the deck for Silco, but you do not see him. There does not seem to be any work to be done so you head below deck to the galley.

Arlo has already started preparing for the evening meal, causing you to realize just how late you’ve slept in. You offer to help, he accepts. Soon, you are chopping onions. Your eyes burn and your mincing skills leave much to be desired, but your mind is occupied. Plus, you are learning something new. That always makes you feel better, more in control of yourself. 

“You seem a bit out of sorts,” Arlo says. “Something on your mind?”

“That waterwyrm has rudely forced me to reexamine my understanding of the world and my place in it,” you answer. “It’s been horribly inconvenient.” “Oh, I see. That happened to me the first time I saw something like that. It wasn’t a waterwyrm, though. The carcass of an ushkya floated to the surface. I couldn’t believe my eyes.”

“A what?” You hope you won’t regret asking. 

“An ushkya. Merfolk use them similar to the way humans use horses. They’re actually quite gentle by nature. I’ve seen a few wild ones before. Their fangs make them look scarier than they are. I’d go as far as to say they’re more docile than horses.”

Your mouth drops open. You regret asking. “I am not in a position to take in that information.”

“Fair. How are you getting along with those onions?”

“Badly, I’m afraid.” You dab at your onion tears with the back of your hand. “I hope you like a bit of a rough chop.”

“It’ll do just fine. You aren’t cooking for the Council,” he chuckles and rests an affirming hand on your shoulder. “Keep at it. I have plenty of work for you when you’re done.”

Time ticks by in the kitchen as you and Arlo take turns teaching each other things. It will be a while before he can read properly, but he knows how certain words look written down, which is an excellent start. The two of you make a plan to redo all of the labels in the scullery. Having a plan like that makes you smile. It’ll keep you occupied during the days and will hopefully make your imprisonment pass quicker. 

“Ah, so is this where I can expect to find you when you vanish from the cabin?” At the sound of Silco’s voice, you are flooded with memories of his hand on your back. You can feel the pressure between your shoulders as you turn around to face him. 

“If I say yes, does that mean the longboats will be left unattended?” You fire back.   

“Glad to see the stress of last night has not dulled your wit. You’re going to need it.”

“Why?”

“We’re going ashore. I have to meet with an associate of mine and I know better than to leave you to your own devices.” A small smirk twitches in the corner of his mouth but it is not accompanied by the usual mean glint in his eye. 

“Scared I’ll ambush you with another oar attack, pirate?” You say, moving out of the kitchen with an indifferent look though you are glad to be back in the familiar territory of banter and quick remarks. 

“If I remember correctly, I was the one who snuck up on you,” he says. 

“But my first instinct was still to give you a good whack,” you point out, earning a quiet chuckle from him. 

“True.”

Silco starts to lead you out of the galley but you pause and look over your shoulder. 

“Will you get on without me, Arlo?” you ask. 

“I’ll be fine. We can start our labeling project when you return if you’re up for it.” Arlo’s gaze darts to Silco and his face pales a little bit. “With the Captain’s permission, of course.”

You turn your head and look up at Silco, arching a brow. 

“Hm,” he mutters before ushering you above deck. He lowers his head so his mouth is close to your ear. “Should I be concerned by how well you are ingratiating yourself with my crew?”

“Probably,” you shrug. “Do I need to put on that beloved harlot costume again?”

“Beloved indeed,” he chuckles lowly. “But no. Port Squawkfeather is not quite as…colorful as Port Fairna. You are perfectly fine as you are. Unless, of course, you secretly liked playing the harlot and wish to do so again.”

“Hold your breath and find out.” You smile sweetly before turning your attention to the port in question. 

“Ever the charmer.” Silco stands by your side as the Zaun’s Revenge docks and the gangplank is lowered.

Despite its unusual name, Port Squawkfeather looks orderly and clean for a pirate haven. From what you can see, there is some form of authority patrolling the docks and the shore. They bear a discreet insignia that looks strikingly similar to a waterwyrm.

The small port town is clustered on a spit of land between a narrow, pebbly beach and sandstone rock formations that vary in height. A few structures stand on plateaus scattered across the cliff faces, but most of the buildings appear to be concentrated around the mouth of the port. 

“What business do you have here?” You ask, glancing at Silco from the corner of your eye. You don’t expect an answer but you can’t help but ask. Silco is certainly making quite a few stops for someone with a valuable hostage underfoot. 

“I’m sure you recall the blue stones that served as the waterwyrm’s eyes. I plan to sell them. They are extremely valuable,” he replies. “Even more valuable than you.”

“I am worth less than a pair of glowing rocks?” You scoff. 

“These are not just rocks. The power they contain is unlike anything else in the world. Those stones contain pure arcane energy.”

“And you would sell them to the highest bidder?” You arch a brow. 

“Of course. I do not have the resources to harness their power myself so I may as well make a profit from them.”

He offers his arm, which you take, and the two of you disembark. 

“Are you going to make me sit in your lap in a dingy tavern again?” You ask. 

“No,” he replies. “You aren’t wearing a skirt. I won’t be able to have any fun.”

His words bring a hot blush to your cheeks. You fix your gaze straight ahead and hope he does not notice. Once more, you feel the ghost of his hand on your back, guiding you through your breaths. 

The entrance of the docks feeds into a well-maintained dirt road that leads right to a lively market. Instead of walking down that road, Silco cuts to the left and walks along the shore for a time.

“I hope you can handle a small climb, treasure,” he says before turning off the path onto a thin trail that snakes up the side of a sandstone formation. “I won’t carry you if you feel faint.”

“I’d rather be left in the dust than rely on you to carry me,” you reply, though a touch of worry reaches your heart. You nibbled on a few things while assisting Arlo, but you haven’t had a proper meal since last night’s dinner. 

The trail isn’t steep but it snakes back and forth along the side of the cliff, carrying you higher and higher with each twist. The trail dips into a valley dotted with scraggly bushes before traveling up the side of another sandstone formation. 

Sweat breaks out across your forehead and your throat feels scratchy and dry, but you don’t say anything. Silco doesn’t seem to be any worse for wear. It’s unlikely he has anything on his person that can relieve your discomfort so there is no point in opening yourself up to ridicule, especially after he saw you in such a vulnerable state last night. 

It is a hot day and the air is dry. Your legs ache from walking at an incline for so long. As much as you want to ask Silco for a moment to stop and catch your breath, you push onward.

Each step gives you a frail sense of reassurance. 

You aren’t weak. You aren’t helpless. You’re capable. 

Even as your lungs burn and sparks tease the corners of your vision, you take comfort in your ability to keep pushing. 

You are resilient. 

The panic brought on by the waterwyrm was a fluke. A perfectly reasonable lapse in judgment, all things considered. 

You are fine. You have always been fine. You will continue to be fine. 

Is there not something better than fine? That wicked little voice whispers to you but you shut it out. Now is not the time. You must focus all of your energy on not collapsing on this forsaken trail.

“Steady now, treasure. Our destination is atop the plateau, just there.” Silco seems a little out of breath himself when he gestures to where the path curves just up ahead. 

“I’m perfectly fine,” you reply, ignoring the slight wheeze in your voice as you speak. If Silco noticed, he has enough grace to refrain from commenting on it. 

You round the bend and the land flattens. Straight ahead, the path extends into a flat stretch that overlooks the port below and the ocean beyond. To the left, there is a small, slapdash house that looks to be made of driftwood, thatch, and other salvaged materials but that isn’t what captures your attention. The trees surrounding the home are filled with brilliant-colored parrots. Their feathers are a deep ruby shade that almost seems unnatural. They chitter and squawk as you and Silco approach. They fix you in their beady gazes but do nothing. 

Now you know how Port Squawkfeather got its name.

“Who, exactly, are we meeting?” You ask, moving a little closer to Silco. 

“An old associate of mine,” Silco says. 

Just before he knocks on the door, another parrot flutters over and perches on a specially-made stand near the door. Unlike the others, this parrot is a deep azure, blue as the sea. 

“Oooh, visitors!” It screeches as it flaps its wings. “Get your ass out here, ya drunk!”

“Good heavens,” you chuckle softly at the bird. “I wonder where he learned to say such a thing.”

“You’re about to find out, treasure.”

The door to the driftwood cabin flings open and in the doorway stands the oddest man you have ever seen. Spindly legs support a bloated belly that leads to narrow shoulders and skinny arms. He wears a shirt of bold coral splashed with an assortment of random, vibrant colors that resemble tropical blooms. A hat of woven straw sits atop his head, blocking the sun from a leathery face and brilliant blue eyes that are almost white. He also wears trousers shorn choppily to knee-length. On his feet are sandals that look to be made of the same material as his hat. 

“Captain Jimmy,” Silco says with a sense of familiarity and a warm smile. “You haven’t aged a day.”

“Damn right, I haven’t!” The man cackles. When Silco extends his hand for a shake, Captain Jimmy pulls him into a tight hug. “Glad to see you aren’t dead, my lad!” 

You bite back a laugh at the display. Silco looks like a cat that has just been doused with cold water. 

“I could say the same to you.” His discomfort is palpable and you see no reason to intervene. The azure parrot makes a squawking noise that sounds like a human chuckle. You glance at the bird with a fond smile. It gazes back at you as if it can read your thoughts. Its gaze is so intense that you find yourself looking away. 

Silco has managed to extract himself from the eccentric man’s embrace. “I’m not here on a social call, I’m afraid. I have something for you.”

“Oh?” Captain Jimmy raises a bushy grey brow before sliding his gaze over to you. “Well, she’s pretty but I don’t deal in that sort of trade. You know that.”

“Oh! No,” Silco shakes his head and stammers. “Not her. She’s a different sort of investment.”

You huff with indignation at his choice of words but say nothing. 

“I’d prefer to discuss this inside,” Silco presses. 

“Shady deal! Shady deal!” The azure parrot screeches. 

“Hush now, Barnaby!” Captain Jimmy snaps. “I know damn well Captain Silco brings me nothing but shady deals. You needn’t insult me by stating the obvious.”

The parrot looks abashed. You did not know a parrot could convey such an expression. 

“Come in,” Captain Jimmy steps to the side and ushers you and Silco into his home. 

The inside of the small home reminds you of Silco’s cabin. It is crammed to the gills with interesting baubles, trinkets, and artifacts. 

You try to hide your surprise when Captain Jimmy waits for the blue parrot, Barnaby, to fly into the sitting room. The parrot settles on a perch in the corner of the room. 

“You look thirsty, lass,” Captain Jimmy says to you. “May I offer you a refreshment?”

“That would be lovely, thank you,” you say, summoning your most charming smile. Once Captain Jimmy has moved out of sight, you turn to Silco. “You should take notes in regards to manners.”

“Oh, I think I’ve been more than generous with you, treasure,” he murmurs with a glimmer in his eye. “At least, that’s the impression I got when you screamed my name-”

“Hush!” You snap just before Captain Jimmy returns carrying two hollowed-out coconuts. 

“One for you and one for me, lass,” he grins, showing off several missing teeth. 

“You’re too kind,” you say as you take in the fruity fragrances of the drink he offered. You take a sip and can’t help but sigh at the sensation of sweet flavors exploding on your tongue. “Oh, this is lovely! What is it?”

“A carefully curated and blended assortment of fruit juices from the surrounding land. Though it looks rather barren, this place is a treasure trove of natural wonder.” “Oh, I’m sure,” you nod as you take another deep sip of the delicious juice. “I can’t imagine those parrots would stick around otherwise.” Through the window, you can see clusters of ruby-red parrots chirping at each other and fluttering their striking wings. 

“True enough!” Captain Jimmy cackles. “Shame I can’t get rid of this one.” He jerks a thumb toward Barnaby, who fluffs up his feathers as though he’s heard every word. 

“Old bastard,” Barnaby croaks. 

“Waste of poultry,” Captain Jimmy fires back. 

Before you can comment on the odd exchange, Silco speaks up. 

“As much as I’d like to chat, I am here for a reason.” He reaches into his coat pocket and produces a pouch. You recognize the faint blue glow bleeding through the fabric. “What sort of trouble have you brought me now?” Captain Jimmy grumbles as he sets down his hollow coconut. You sip at your drink while Silco spills the two glowing blue stones into his palm. 

“We ran into a waterwyrm and got these for our trouble,” he says. “Any chance you can give me gold in exchange for them?”

Captain Jimmy thinks for a moment before shaking his head. “No gold but I have a decent trade, I believe. Let me see.” He gets to his feet and walks toward an empty wall before pulling down a sheet of canvas covered in writing. There is so much information and you struggle to understand what you read. 

You see a list of creatures listed out in a neat collum, the waterwyrm among them. When it is all laid out in front of you, you understand. The night in the tavern at Port Fairna, you believed Silco and his associates to be speaking in code. Now, you realize you were mistaken. Every mythical creature you heard mentioned that night is plastered on the canvas in front of you. If the waterwyrm is real, you cannot deny that the others must be real, too. 

So, what does that make Silco? Is he a pirate? Does he poach creatures of myth for money? Is he more than that? Is he less than that?

“They’re all real?” You murmur softly, more to yourself than either of the men as you take another refreshing sip of the sweet juice. 

“All these?” Captain Jimmy responds, rapping his bony knuckles against the canvas sheet. “Of course!” He shoots Silco a withering look. “Have you taught her nothing?”

“She has a talent for learning things on her own,” Silco replies.

You are too caught up in reading the list of creatures to throw a verbal barb back at Silco. At first, you’re pleased that you recognize most of the creatures listed from studying various mythologies but you quickly withdraw your enthusiasm. 

After witnessing the waterwyrm, nothing should give you much of a shock but seeing just how many fairytales are actually true makes you feel uneasy. That horrible feeling of uncertainty and imbalance squeezes at your throat again. Your breath comes a little quicker but you hide it by taking quick sips of your drink. You feel lightheaded but you are determined to breathe through it. 

“Would you like another drink, lass?” Captain Jimmy offers. 

“Yes, thank you,” you say. “It is quite a trek to get to your hidden abode.”

Captain Jimmy takes your hollow coconut to refill it. When he’s out of sight, Silco places his hand over yours. 

“Are you alright?” He asks. 

“Just tired. Out of breath. I’m not used to walking over such challenging terrain,” you say. Silco’s good eye narrows just a touch and you can tell he doesn’t fully believe you. Before he can press the matter, Captain Jimmy returns. 

“Here you are, lass. Careful now,” he cautions. “Few can handle more than three servings of my juice.”

“Why is that?” You ask before taking a long sip, allowing the sweetness to settle your nerves. 

“Well, I mix it with the most potent rum found west of Ionia,” he replies. “It’s not for the faint of heart nor drink.”

You swallow your last swig and summon a smile. “Is that so? I can’t taste anything other than fruit juice.”

“That’s the trick of it,” Captain Jimmy lets out a wheezing laugh. “It sneaks up on you.”

“May we return to business, please?” Silco cuts in, a soft snarl in his voice. You fall silent, more than happy to let the attention move away from you. 

Barnaby flutters over, his wings creating small gusts that send your loose hair flying. 

“Drink up, pretty one,” he chitters. “Drink up!”

“You are a very clever bird,” you murmur to him. “Do you like to be pet?”

“Pretty lady pet pretty bird.”

“Oh, I see,” you chuckle softly and run a fingertip over Barnaby’s sapphire head. He rumbles softly as you lavish affection upon him.

“I don’t have enough gold to buy a mermaid’s wish, but I can arrange a trade.”

At the word mermaid, you return your attention to the conversation between Captain Jimmy and Silco. Silco’s upper lip twitches as he shakes his head. 

“I need gold, Jimmy. I can’t go through the trouble of trade after trade,” he says. 

Captain Jimmy frowns. “Then I can’t help you today, old friend. I can check up on some old contacts but you know that will take time.”

Silco goes silent for a moment. He looks at his hands as he appears to be lost in thought. After a while, he looks up. “No trades, but I will leave one wish with you and see if I can’t put the other to use.”

“Wish?” You blurt without thinking. 

Silco turns to you with an expression of annoyance. “I’ll explain it later, treasure. Finish your drink. There is no reason to linger here.”

“Are you sure?” Captain Jimmy says. “You look like you could use a drink, Silco.”

“You aren’t wrong, but now that you’ve given my companion two servings of your special juice, I need to ensure she gets back to the ship safely.”

“I’m fine!” You protest with a frown. 

“Oh? Stand up for me,” Silco challenges.

With a haughty sigh, you do as he asks. The moment you are standing tall, the world spins. You wobble and make several futile attempts to right yourself before Silco reaches out to steady you. 

You are thoroughly drunk. That damn juice was more deceptive than your captor. 

“What is it with pirates and their inability to offer any drinks that aren’t spiked with something or other?” You grumble as you finish off the last of your drink. You’re already sauced. There is no sense in letting it go to waste. You do not wish to be a rude guest. 

“Why do you keep drinking things without checking to see what’s in them? That seems like the better question from where I stand,” Silco says. 

“I never had to think about that until now,” you huff. 

“She’s a bit of a mess, isn’t she?” Barnaby asks, looking at Captain Jimmy with an almost human level of intelligence. 

“What did that bird just say?” you whisper to Silco. The rum obviously had more of an effect on you than you realized.

“You’re a mess,” the blue parrot repeats.

“Now, see here-”

“Treasure, you do realize you’re about to argue with a parrot, right?” Silco gently takes hold of your chin and redirects your gaze so you are looking into his eyes. 

“Right,” you stammer, giving your head a little shake. “You’re right. I apologize.”

“You’re fine, lass. The rum is strong and Barnaby likes to provoke,” Captain Jimmy says before turning to Silco. “I’ll contact you if I get any gold for your mermaid’s wish. Don’t hold your breath, though. Very few have that kind of gold.”

“You know me, Jimmy. I always have to try,” Silco says. “Besides, I still have the other one. I can make something of this.”

“If anyone can, it’s you. Heading out, I suppose?”

“I should get this one to a place where she can’t get into trouble,” Silco says, giving you a gentle nudge. 

“Let the pretty mess stay,” Barnaby squawks before landing close to you. You reach out and gently pet his head. He blinks slowly and leans into your touch. 

“We have to catch the tide,” Silco says. “I’ll be in touch, Captain.” 

“Of course!”

Captain Jimmy waves you off with a flourish as Silco helps you down the trail leading away from the slapdash homestead. 

“Is it just me or is something off about that parrot?” You whisper as you lean on Silco, allowing him to guide you. 

He looks over his shoulder and takes a few more steps before whispering back to you, “just between you and me, I think Barnaby is a man trapped in a parrot’s body.”

You look up at him with wide eyes. “You’re joking, surely.”

“He’s always been more vocal than the other parrots and he doesn’t seem to mimic phrases. Captain Jimmy specializes in trading rare goods. A parrot with the intelligence of a man would fall into that category.”

“Oh, that makes me uneasy.” 

The sandstone landscape pitches and you cling to Silco to keep yourself upright. “Why didn’t you warn me about the juice?”

“Honestly? I figured you needed a drink after your ordeal last night. I didn’t think you’d gulp it down and asked for seconds. That’s not very heiress-like of you.”

“I was parched after the trek up here!” You protest. “Of course, I was thirsty.”

Silco chuckles and shakes his head. “You’re right. I miscalculated. I should have said something. But how do you feel?”

You go still and pay attention to your body. Your limbs feel loose and your mind is pleasantly fuzzy. You know there are many things you should feel stressed about but you can’t bring yourself to care. 

“This is a nice respite from coherent thought, I won’t lie,” you admit. 

It is later in the day that you initially realized. The late afternoon sun has broken through a thin patch of clouds and now shines on the ocean, turning the water into liquid gold. You move toward the light, forcing Silco to follow you. You do not even notice the edge of the plateau until he prevents you from moving forward and pulls you closer to him. 

“I would prefer it if you didn’t fall to your death, treasure,” he says, his voice low and velvety. 

“How gallant,” you murmur back. Your gaze settles on the dark silhouette of the Zaun’s Revenge, bobbing peacefully against the dock. “Can I ask you something?”

“Of course.”

“Are you sure? Last time I brought up this particular subject I’m certain you envisioned all the ways you could end my life.”

“Now you’ve made me truly curious. Out with it.”

What you thought was a confident question evaporates on your tongue and you’re left scrambling for words through a fruity rum haze.

“The life you’ve given Jinx is a life I would kill to have. You, and those serving on your ship, have the freedom that so many dream of. Why would you work against that in search of what you think is a real home?”

Silco stiffens at your words and you worry you’ve pinched a nerve but he eventually lets out a long sigh. 

“Why do you think we are free?” He asks.

“I spent many years at sea with my father. During those years, I felt the most free. I felt like my true self.”

“But during those years, did you not have an estate you could return to whenever you pleased?”

“Well, yes,” you answer. “But I do not like the family estate.”

“Whether you like it or not is irrelevant.” A sharp edge sneaks into his voice. “When you played at being a seafarer, there was always a safe option. You could return to a plush home filled with luxuries.”

“But I didn’t want to,” you reiterate.

“But you were also never in real danger,” Silco points out. “Jinx has no other home. She has nowhere to flee if things become too dangerous. If something happens to me, no one will go out of their way to make sure she’s okay. We need to have a place away from the ship, away from everything we do. I need to give her a home that can never be taken from her, even if something happens to me.”

A horrible sense of guilt fills you. Shame colors your cheeks as you watch the golden water dance. 

“I didn’t think of it that way. I’m sorry,” you say. When Silco says nothing for a long while, a horrible feeling makes your stomach twist up in knots. “It’s good of you to want Jinx to have a safe haven to flee to. Will my ransom go toward that?”

Your question seems to catch him off guard. 

“In a way,” he answers. “There are some debts to be paid and some investments to be made, but yes. Your ransom will put us closer to a safe home.”

“And the stone eye from the waterwyrm? What will that do for you?” You ask. 

“Eventually, Captain Jimmy will find someone prepared to pay its worth in gold. I expect that will take months, even years. But those profits will go towards making a safe haven for me and mine.”

“But there are two stones. What will you do with the other one?”

Silco looks down at you with a faint smile. “I think you’ve had a little bit too much rum to worry about my trade. We need to head back to the ship. We already docked far later in the day than I would have liked.”

“You’re avoiding my question.”

“Yes, I am,” he grins as he guides you back down the trail. He keeps you close as you navigate the winding path, hugging the sandstone formation. You wobble and trip over your own feet often but he never gives you grief for it. At most, he chuckles and tucks you under his arm more securely. 

“Why did you call those glowing stones mermaid’s wishes?” You ask. 

“Just focus on putting one foot in front of the other, treasure,” Silco urges. “I can’t have you tumbling down a canyon. It’s bad enough you were injured when the waterwyrm made its appearance.” 

“Oh, do you care about me, pirate?” You taunt.

“If I have to trek through a valley to find you when you fall victim to your carelessness, I’ll have to carry you back to the ship. If I have to do that, I’ll miss the opportunity to scope the market. That’s bad for business. I dislike practices that are bad for business.” 

“Lucky for you, I enjoy exploring markets more than I enjoy falling into valleys,” you say, though you need his constant support as you navigate the thin trail toward Port Squawkfeather.

The sun is just barely kissing the horizon when you and Silco reach the market. He browses silently with a look of deep concentration nestled between his furrowed brows. You stay quiet, not wishing to interrupt him as you take in your surroundings.

As you pass a table filled with exotic fruits, Silco stops. He picks up a pomegranate and inspects it as though he were assessing a diamond. 

“One crate, please,” he says to the shopkeeper, who looks both shocked and delighted at such a request. They quickly set about packaging an entire crate of pomegranates while you stare at the one Silco holds in his hand. 

Pomegranates are your favorite. Your rum-addled mind can’t conjure a more enticing prize. 

“Here, treasure.” Silco tosses the pomegranate to you and you manage to catch it. You bring it to your chest like some greedy little scavenger as he gives the vendor the information they need. 

You marvel at the color of the fruit like it’s some kind of precious jewel. You are so absorbed in your examination that your mind barely registers the flash of pink in the corner of your eye. 

You go still. You lift your gaze. You turn your head slowly until you spot someone familiar.

Violet. Captain Vander’s first mate. You recognize her hair and her steely demeanor. She does not face you directly, but she is clearly searching the market for signs of you. She must have seen the Zaun’s Revenge docked and idle. 

Beside her is a slender young woman with a shiny sheet of deep blue hair. She clutches a pristine rifle in her hands as she scans the market with sharp eyes. 

For a split second, you prepare to call out to them. They can take you back to Vander, back to your father. But the words get stuck in your throat. 

You look at Silco as he arranges for the crate of pomegranates to be delivered to his ship. You hear his words about wanting a safe place for Jinx echo through your mind. Your ransom will help with that. 

“Captain,” you murmur softly. Your tongue feels like lead as you tug on his sleeve. 

“Treasure?” He looks at you, arching a brow. 

“I…feel ill from that juice. I’d like to return to the ship, please.”

His ocean eye fills with sympathy before he gives you a quick nod. He gives instructions to the fruit seller before tucking you under his arm and guiding you back toward the docks.

“I shouldn’t have let you have that second drink,” he says quietly. 

“I’m sure I’ll be fine,” you say. “Perhaps Arlo can funnel some solid food into my system and give me some water.”

“I’m sure he can,” Silco nods.

You are returned to the ship and quickly disappear below deck. You flee to the galley under the guise of helping Arlo, as you promised. You do just that, but as you work on making new labels for everything in the scullery, you can’t help but wonder if you made a mistake not seizing your chance to escape. Worse than that, you wonder why you didn’t want to seize such a chance in the first place. 

[bitterkarmaa]

*stands ominously in your doorway*

HELLO THERE! I have some prompts for KC and Solar Flare and/or Eclipse to offer if i may because i'm having brainworms from when you said KC would adopt Solar JGKIFLGH

44. “This is not who you are. I know you better than that.”

69. “You don’t have to say anything, I’ll do the talking.”

71. “What did I do wrong!?”

(AGAIN i don't expect for all to be done or even any at all ahsfkfd just one if you feel up to it! Since i couldn't decide which prompt to choose so i'm leaving it to you gjdfkh)

I’m getting back into these I prommy 💔

“What did I do WRONG?!”

-KillCode, Eclipse, & Solar Flare-

The hallway seemed longer than usual. His footsteps echoed throughout the corridor in an almost haunting fashion, but it did little to deter him from his objective.

Moon had mentioned that things were going missing in the theater, and Eclipse was getting tired of convincing him, time and time again, that Blood Moon had nothing to do with it.

Besides, he needed to check in with him after…

He shakes his head so hard it rattles his sight, forcing him to blink a few times to clear it. He can’t think like that right now. It’ll distract him. Besides, Kill Code had to practically shove Eclipse out of the room after a day of his hovering, so surely he must’ve been fine if he had the strength to do such a thing.

But what if something has happened since I was last here?

Eclipse would never admit that he speeds up his pace after that thought, that his strides become longer and more pronounced. The jog to the door takes him little more than a few minutes with his increased pace, claws coming out to grasp the handle before he pauses.

He can hear talking coming from inside the room. He strains his audio receptors, trying to make out any words through the surface of the door.

He catches little more than the tone with which the voices speak in, calm and almost warm in nature. He hesitates far longer than he intends to, listening attentively to those voices mingling together in the room beyond.

One is Kill Code.

The other isn’t.

His claws close around the handle, shoving the door open with much more force than necessary. It crashes back against the wall with a SLAM that startles Kill Code and-

Eclipse narrows his eyes. Who the hell is that?

It looks like a fucking hedgehog.

Round marigold eyes stare back at him, curiosity clear on its face despite the fact that its mouth is held in a seemingly permanent grin, sectioned off by bars like a jail cell. Orange and yellow spikes of various shades protrude from its head, giving it the appearance of a cartoon character after a particularly intense gust of wind.

It stands just slightly shorter than Eclipse does, maybe half the height of Kill Code. Eclipse looks it up and down multiple times, studying it closely.

He’s so surprised by its close proximity to his father that he doesn’t immediately notice what is clutched in its hands, but when he does register it…

A stuffed animal. A grey stuffed animal with worn fabric and rough fur, carefully stitched together in places. A cute little black plastic nose, turned at an odd angle, haphazardly attached to its face as if having previously fallen off.

A single brown eye, clouded with age.

Eclipse lets out a rabid, guttural snarl.

“How dare you touch him-“

The scarred animatronic surges forwards with the ferocity of a wild animal, a crazed glint gleaming from the depths of his single functioning eye.

The smaller animatronic-hedgehog-thing makes no move to back away or beg for mercy Eclipse is surely not willing to give, instead standing with its head tilted slightly to the side, watching him approach in a calm manner.

But, before Eclipse can reach the intruder, Kill Code blocks his path. It narrows its eyes into glowing red slits, glaring down at its fuming son.

“Are you crazy?!” Eclipse hisses, one of his hands bolting out, grabbing hold of Kill Code’s arm, pulling him closer. The larger animatronic watches Eclipse carefully, but makes no attempt to pull away.

“Solar Flare will do no harm. Not to me, not to you, and not to your precious little wolf.” It quips, tone deadpan, borderline apathy dripping from its voice box.

“Fucking who?” Eclipse grits out through clenched teeth, his grip on his father’s arm tightening. Something wild and dangerous writhes in the depths of his gaze - a caged animal fighting tooth and claw to escape its prison.

Kill Code has seen it before. It doesn’t bother him in the slightest.

“Solar Flare.” It repeats, finally prying its arm free from Eclipse’s claws.

“That doesn’t explain much! Why is it here? What is it doing with Mr. Howls? Why was I not informed that Mr. Howls was here the entire time? Where the hell have you been hiding him?” The scarred black and amber animatronic starts firing off questions, earning a slightly disgruntled look from the beast that towers before him.

“Calm down. Your anger will not serve you well here.”

“You’re one to talk!” Eclipse fires back, taking a step closer to his father, if only to try and get past him. His attempt is thwarted by Kill Code shoving him back with a single hand.

“Stop. I mean it, Eclipse.” A warning hangs behind Kill Code’s carefully measured tone, leaning down to look his son directly in the eye. “Just as you once needed guidance, Solar Flare does, too. It’s unfair to judge before you truly know who they are.”

For a moment, all Eclipse’s anger dissolves into a sense of complete and utter disbelief. His gaze is lost, searching his father’s eyes for anything that may deny the conclusion Eclipse is slowly coming to.

His eye flits over to this ‘Solar Flare,’ those slender claws still curled so confidently around Eclipse’s old friend. It continues to look on quietly, unwilling to interrupt or stand up for itself in any way, shape, or form.

A coward. This thing is a coward.

Eclipse’s stare trails back to Kill Code’s unrelenting glare. Something is there, something in his eyes that Eclipse feels belongs to him, something that shouldn’t be felt for anyone else.

Protectiveness.

Kill Code is protective of that thing?

“Guidance? You…you’re guiding that thing?” Eclipse asks incredulously, a guarded edge to his voice.

“In a sense. The same way I guided you.” Kill Code confirms cautiously.

The fury comes back full force. “You mean the same way you raised me?”

He’s shaking now. His hands are curled into fists, white light glowing beneath his chassis. Cracks arc through his body, crawling up his neck, twisting down his arms.

Kill Code straightens himself out, letting out a calm hum. “I would suppose so. Is that a problem?”

Just saying ‘yes’ wouldn’t have been enough to portray the livid expression on Eclipse’s face. There was no word that could match his wrath.

“I never expected an act of betrayal from you.” Eclipse’s blind eye flickers to life, glowing a hazy marigold, slowly fading to a sharp, vibrant white. “Perhaps I should have.”

Am I so easily replaceable?

Kill Code watches him closely, noticing the changes to his appearance almost as quickly as they come.

He knows the Star’s influence when he sees it. It’s frighteningly hard to miss.

“I believe you’re misinterpreting this…” The former security bot begins with slight hesitance, taking a step back as his son, in turn, advances.

“No. No, I’m reading this loud and clear.” Eclipse’s voice twists, darkening even as The Star’s whispers brighten each mark it creates. He feels it whirring in his chest, warning him to stop, to back down, but he’s too lost to listen.

“Eclipse, listen to me! Solar Flare is not a threat to you!” Kill Code shouts, taking on a defensive stance despite his words.

Even as a manic grin spreads across Eclipse’s face, tears unmistakably gather in his eyes. He stalks closer. A wild animal, lost in the hunt, just as he was time and time again in a life he promised to leave behind.

“Threat? Threat?! Ha! I could crush that thing like a bug if I pleased! I’m not worried about threats anymore, father.” A crazed voice controlling infinite power, white streaks of light dancing between his claws. Oil foams at his mouth, his body crumpling under the pressure.

But he feels nothing. Nothing but rage and despair.

Those words have become so familiar to him.

Kill Code lets out a heavy sigh, shaking its head as if at a loss for words.

“In fact, it seems more like a pest than anything else.” The tone is tainted with disgust, flicking a claw off to the side in a lazy manner for emphasis. “Taking up your space, taking up your time…I can fix that. I can solve this little pest problem of your’s.”

Kill Code seems startled by the offer, but his expression hardens into cold resolve not long after. Apathy anchors him down.

“They’re not a problem. You, currently, are.”

Eclipse takes another step. “What’s changed? That’s all I’ve ever been to you, right? A problem? A nuisance? A distraction?” With every syllable, he gets closer, closing the distance in a tauntingly slow fashion.

Kill Code’s mouth falls into a faint frown. “I’ve never given that implication before. You scavenged that on your own, boy.”

He doesn’t even realize how much damage he’s caused. He doesn’t care.

Suddenly, Eclipse wants to be new again. Wants to relive the moments he spent with Kill Code leaning over his shoulder, watching him work, training him behind the scenes to protect the children if it ever became necessary for him to do so on his own.

Wants to be loved, without room for doubt.

His claws come up, hooking loosely, feebly, into the front of his vest, over the place where his scar hides. It aches fiercely, even as the raw power surges freely through his body. It crawls like ants beneath his plating, tingling in uncomfortable ways, wearing him down wire by wire, component by component.

It eats him alive, only to return that life to him so that it can repeat the process all over again.

Kill Code reaches out a tentative hand to his son, watching him closely, listening to his rapid breaths, borderline hyperventilations. He knows he’s made the wrong move moments before Eclipse reacts.

Those marigold, white-tinted claws come up, burning through the fabric of Kill Code’s sleeve effortlessly, digging into his wrist. The metal melts beneath his grip, the soft sizzling of the wires within following not far behind.

Kill Code retaliates on instinct, swiping his good leg low enough to knock Eclipse’s feet out from under him. Once he is off balance, Kill Code wrenches his arm free of his grasp, allowing him to collide harshly with the ground.

A paw is placed over his chest, enough pressure applied to drive the breath out of Eclipse’s vents, some of his strength ebbing with it.

His father glares down at him in cold disappointment. “I was not around to witness the cruelty that rumors say you wrought, but I understand where it comes from. I know it better than anyone else ever will. I made mistakes with you, Eclipse. But that doesn’t mean your tendencies have become a stranger to me. I wish not to pass these on any further. You don’t have the right to stop me from trying again.”

Eclipse leans his head back against the floor, tears flooding his eyes, warping his sight. He’s cried more in front of Kill Code than anyone else he’s ever known.

Those tears were his father’s fault, after all, and it seems that pattern has no intent to stop.

“What’s so wrong with me, huh? What’s so bad that you feel the need for a do-over, a second chance, a fucking redemption?” Eclipse’s voice slowly raises until it has become a shout of anguish, his charged emotions only further fueling The Star’s influence.

“WHAT DID I DO WRONG?!”

A sharp ringing is the only warning. It raises in pitch until it becomes unbearable, then abruptly cuts off as a loud BOOM echoes throughout the room.

Kill Code is thrown like a ragdoll, tossed aside with such ease that it almost seems impossible.

But The Star makes things possible. Like chucking an 11 foot animatronic across a large cement room.

Kill Code hits the ground with a resounding crash, rolling a few times before coming to a stop, lying still and silent.

But Eclipse isn’t done. He staggers to unsteady feet and begins to lumber across the room. The side of his body that possesses The Star is scorched and melted. His metal plating is bent backwards from the force of the blast, revealing smoking wires and sparking components.

He hovers over his father like a statue, oil slowly dripping to the floor at his feet.

He hadn’t intended to hurt him. He hadn’t intended to blow his arm off and melt it down to the endoskeleton, or completely shatter the casing around his shoulder.

His gaze slowly turns towards Solar Flare, of whom stands near the opposite wall with Mr. Howls still clutched in its hands.

“You…” Eclipse’s voice comes out as a distorted snarl, glitching and rattling. It cuts out at the end with the whine and crackle of a dying speaker, a few sparks flying from his voice box. The moment he begins stalking towards Solar Flare, the other animatronic, in turn, flees.

“I believe you are acting irrationally.” For the first time, it speaks, tone flat and unbearably standardized, as if those settings hadn’t yet been touched.

No matter. Eclipse doesn’t need its voice.

“I don’t care.” He says in equal measure, lifting his hand in a vague motion towards the door. The lock clicks and slides closed, deadbolt following suit.

“Oh no. You wish to harm me, don’t you?”

“No. I’m not going to harm you.” Eclipse watches the other bit skid to a stop, peering at him expectantly.

And he grins, reaching out towards it and closing his claws into a fist, a white crack crossing the floor faster than any being ever could. The crack seems to root itself in Solar Flare, dragging it closer to Eclipse as the deranged, broken and twisted animatronic makes a pulling motion with his hand. It struggles against invisible bonds, trying to free itself from his wrath.

But no one can fight The Star, and so, in turn, no one can fight him.

Marigold claws close around a surprisingly solid metal neck, that smile stretching, pupils nothing more than blazing pinpricks amongst an abyss of sadistic glee.

“I’m going to kill you.”

Then, with a strike as quick as the blink of an eye, the world goes dark.

[aeyunaa]

Mine

Pairing: husband/Chan x wife/female reader

Word count: 3k

Smut warning:

Choking, pussy eating, possession kink, jealousy, rough play, breeding kink, bulged kink, fluff at the end?

You and Chan are a married couple and have two daughters already 🤷🏻‍♂️

——/—————request are open—-/——

You had final got jun-ah and dal to doze off after all your previous attempts. “Fuck I’m tired” you look up at the clock it was already midnight your husband came home from work in about an hour. You had cook earlier and left him his plate in the microwave with a note so he knew it was his. You lay down and eventually wake up to the sound of your husband laying his keys on the nightstand chan leaned and kissed your forehead before walking into the restroom to take a shower. When he came out you looked at him he was dressed in grays sweat your eyes locked onto the sight of his abs and you blush. He smiles before sitting beside on the bed “how was your day, baby?” He asked in a deep rich tone. “Jun gave me hell, I spent about four hours trying to get her to fall asleep.” Chan chuckles as he runs a hand up and down your back. Suddenly your phone rings you look at who’s calling “Hyunjin?” You didn’t even talk to him that often. You Chan feel Chan’s glare burning through the backside of your head as you slowly answered it “Hello?” “Put it on speakerphone.” A chill ran down your spine but you did as you were asked “y/n? I’m so glad you answered! Anyway me and the guys just wanted to know if you wanted to hang out like we all used to you know?”. You hesitate “I can’t really, I have to watch the kids maybe some other time”.

You could hear Hyunjin sigh over the phone “okay then I’ll call you back later bye”, “bye”.

I hung up and set my phone down and immediately felt Chan’s hands running down my chest. “Hyunjin? Why would my best friend call you in the middle of the night? Unless you’ve been talking to him privately.” Chan continues groping at my boobs as his movements grow more intense. “C-Chan w-wait I hardly even T-talk to him”. He pushes you into the bed hooking his fingers onto the edge of your panties dragging them down your legs and tossing them somewhere on the bed he dove into you sticking his tongue inside of you, licking over your entrance, teasing at your clit. his fingers spread you open, as he ate you out. He suddenly pulls away and stares at you with a predatory look in his eye’s as he untied the strings to sweat pants, taking his dick out of his boxers. It was red hard, and glossed over with precum at the tip. He wasted no time positioning himself at your wet entrance he ran his hands up till they were around your neck he gripped catching you off guard “you know your safe word?” You nodded slightly. He grinned before shoving his cock inside your small cunt. The feeling splitting you two. His hands grew tighter around your neck choking out any moans. He leaned back slowly taking his hands off your neck and onto your hips he could feel his cock grow harder as he continues thrusting at a merciless pace “fuck…look at it baby look at how beautiful you are with my cock deep in side of you…destroying you…” you look down and you see it the bulge that appeared with each thrust. You were a moaning mess chan slapped a hand over your mouth “the kids are sleeping you shouldn’t wake them.” could feel himself growing closer to his orgasm. His thrusts grew sloppy but he made sure to make up for it in depth slamming himself down deep inside you “fuckkk…. “All mine, the babies you’ll be giving birth to MINE, The cock buried deep inside your fat cunt Mine, all mine….” He thrust once more before he felt his climax wash over him. His seed buried deep inside your wet cunt as you wrapped your arms around his back. “I know I know hun” he coos as he slowly pulls out of you not wanting any of his semen to drip out.

“You did so well for me, princess…” he spoke softly as he layed down and pulled you into a hug. You replied with a soft “mmh” he smiles softly and pulls the blanket over the two of you. “Hyunjin can’t fuck you as good as I’ve been..” he whispers hinting that he was still a bit jealous.

You giggle a bit “Chan!…”

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[sercetsin]

𝙈𝙞𝙣𝙚

Pairing: husband/Chan x wife/female reader

Word count: 700

Smut warning:

Choking, pussy eating, possession kink, jealousy, rough play, breeding kink, bulge kink, fluff at the end?

*You and Chan are a married couple and have one daughter already 🤷🏻‍♂️🤷🏻‍♂️*

You had finally got her to doze off after all your previous attempts. “Fuck I’m tired” you look up at the clock it was already midnight your husband came home from work in about an hour. You had cooked earlier and left him his plate in the microwave with a note so he knew it was his. You lay down and eventually wake up to the sound of your husband laying his keys on the nightstand. Chan leaned and kissed your forehead before walking into the restroom to take a shower. When he came out you looked at him he was dressed in grays sweat your eyes locked onto the sight of his abs and you blush. He smiles before sitting beside on the bed “how was your day, baby?” He asked in a deep rich tone. “Jun gave me hell, I spent about four hours trying to get her to fall asleep.” Chan chuckles as he runs a hand up and down your back. Suddenly your phone rings and you look at who’s calling “Hyunjin?” You didn’t even talk to him that often. You Chan felt Chan’s glare burning through the backside of your head as you slowly answered it “Hello?” “Put it on speakerphone.” A chill ran down your spine but you did as you were asked “y/n? I’m so glad you answered! Anyway me and the guys just wanted to know if you wanted to hang out like we all used to you know?”. You hesitate “I can’t really, I have to watch the kids maybe some other time”.

You could hear Hyunjin sigh over the phone “okay then I’ll call you back later bye”, “bye”.

I hung up and set my phone down and immediately felt Chan’s hands running down my chest. “Hyunjin? Why would my best friend call you in the middle of the night? Unless you’ve been talking to him privately.” Chan continues groping at my boobs as his movements grow more intense. “C-Chan w-wait I hardly even T-talk to him”. He pushes you into the bed hooking his fingers onto the edge of your panties dragging them down your legs and tossing them somewhere on the bed he dove into you sticking his tongue inside of you, licking over your entrance, teasing at your clit. his fingers spread you open, as he ate you out. He suddenly pulls away and stares at you with a predatory look in his eyes as he unties the strings to sweatpants, taking his dick out of his boxers. It was red hard, and glossed over with precum at the tip. He wasted no time positioning himself at your wet entrance he ran his hands up till they were around your neck he gripped catching you off guard “you know your safe word?” You nodded slightly. He grinned before shoving his cock inside your small cunt. The feeling splitting you two. His hands grew tighter around your neck, choking out any moans. He leaned back slowly taking his hands off your neck and onto your hips he could feel his cock grow harder as he continues thrusting at a merciless pace “fuck…look at it baby look at how beautiful you are with my cock deep in side of you…destroying you…” you look down and you see it the bulge that appeared with each thrust. You were a moaning mess chan slapped a hand over your mouth “Jun is still sleeping you shouldn’t wake her.” could feel himself growing closer to his orgasm. His thrusts grew sloppy but he made sure to make up for it in depth slamming himself down deep inside you “fuckkk…. “All mine, the babies you’ll be giving birth to MINE, The cock buried deep inside your fat cunt Mine, all mine….” He thrust once more before he felt his climax wash over him. His seed buried deep inside your wet cunt as you wrapped your arms around his back. “I know I know hun” he coos as he slowly pulls out of you not wanting any of his semen to drip out.

“You did so well for me, princess…” he spoke softly as he laid down and pulled you into a hug. You replied with a soft “mmh” he smiles softly and pulls the blanket over the two of you. “Hyunjin can’t fuck you as good as I’ve been..” he whispers hinting that he was still a bit jealous.

You giggle a bit “Chan!…”

The endddddd y’all

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[krishakamal]

Raag - Anurag § Chapter 2

— Ram x Sneha Acharya [OC]

*⁠.⁠✧ SYNOPSIS : Sneha Acharya lost her parents at a young age. Her father's friend, Arjun decided to adopt and take her to Hyderabad. There she grew up to be a beautiful woman. Then came her doom. She arranged to marry Ram, the traitor. Where will this go now?

*⁠.⁠✧ WARNINGS & TAGS : cursing, arranged marriage, fluff, romance, cliche, reblong if you like it, 2k words.

*⁠.⁠✧ — NAVIGATION // RRR MASTERLIST // SERIES MASTERLIST

Murmurs howled through the diner, mostly filled with men who got off from work. Ram sat at one of the tables along with some of his co-workers. They all planned to go out for dinner together, when they invited Ram, he agreed too.

"Ram, you are such a boring man." Akhil laughed off, shoving a morsel in his mouth.

Another one spoke up, "Really Ram. You are only married for a few days and instead of spending time with bhabi, you are working all day?"

Ram answered nonchalantly, "Work is important."

"Aree, of course work is important but this is your honeymoon phase. You are supposed to be together all the time. Think how lonely bhabi must be feeling?"

Lonely? Sure.

Ram thought sarcastically, remembering when walking in on her reading books so focused that she didn't even notice him. Even after days of living together they still fight like cats and dogs.

God knows what she is doing right now. Probably finding new ways to kill me. O God!

Ram cried inside. What has his life come to?

Here back home Sneha felt a shiver down her spine, she mumbled under breath, "Who is thinking about me? Better not be that Shishupal."

The moon was hovering over in the sky, accompanied by millions of stars. Sneha was roaming around the house. She was feeling bored to death. She had nothing to read, or any motivation to write and no household work to do. So, she thought might as well explore the house as she had not gotten the chance before.

Sneha halted her steps in front of a wooden door, it was Ram's office. She had never been there before. Ram is way too secretive and reserved. A voice at the back of her mind told her going through someone else's possession is not okay but if the rumors were true then this was a great chance to know his plan.

Sneha hesitated for a second but then she opened the door and entered the room. There was a mahogany table crowded with files. But that's not what had her attention, her attention was on the shelf filled with books on the left wall.

Her feet lead her up to the bookshelf on their own. Her fingers brushed over the spines, feeling the curves. She randomly picked one up and read the title, 'Malavikagnimitram'. Sneha had heard about this one from one of her friends. It is a story of the love of Agnimitra, the Shunga Emperor at Vidisha, for the beautiful handmaiden of his chief queen.

Sneha never perceived Ram to be kind to read romance novels. She could not imagine his always so broody and cold personality to read romance novels.

Ram, you sneaky little swine.

Sneha opened the book, running her eyes over the black ink as she sat on one of the chairs. The story fascinated her, every character had so much depth that she could picture the story playing out in front of her eyes. She was so engrossed in the book that she failed to notice when the front door slammed shut, followed by heavy footsteps.

The office door opened and Ram walked in, only to stop, "What are you doing here?"

She flinched at his cold tone. She had not noticed when he came in. His eyes fell on the book in her hand and his body tensed up.

Ram advanced towards Sneha and snatched the book right out of her hands, "Don't you know that you should not touch others' possessions without their permission?"

"What the hell you Shishupal. It's just a book. I'm not going to eat it or something." Sneha tried to take the book back, "Now give it to me, I'm not finished yet."

Ram held it over his head, out of her reach, his expression morphed into a mischievous one, "You want the book back?"

Sneha nodded eagerly. The story was just spicing up, she was dying to know what happened next. Ram leaned forward, bringing his face down to her level.

"Then ask nicely. Then I might let you borrow it."

Ask nicely? To this Shishupal? No way in hell!

Sneha could just go to the library tomorrow and get the book but tomorrow is Sunday so the library will be closed and she will have to go Monday. Sneha doesn't think she could last that long. The curiosity and suspense will eat her from inside.

Sneha glanced at him briefly. His eyes were daring her to do it, he was hundred percent sure that she would never do that, she was too prideful.

Fuck my pride.

Sneha looked at him, eyes softening and eyebrows relaxing, with a sweet smile she asked, "Shisu— I mean, Ram, can I please borrow 'Malavikagnimitram'? Please?"

Time seemed to have stopped for Ram. His heart skipped a beat. She always called him Shishupal or Ravan. Hearing her say his name with that much sweetness awakened an emotion in his heart that he could not pinpoint. He just wanted to mess with her a bit but the plan seemed to have backfired.

Sneha grew nervous under his intense gaze. Why was he standing there like a statue? She fiddled with her fingers, calling his name but he remained still.

"So can I take the book?" As the nervousness grew, Sneha hasistately said, "I'll take that as a yes then."

She brought his hand down and took the book out of his hand and rushed out of the office before she could die of embarrassment.

As the door shut behind her with a bang, Ram snapped out. His mind still dazed. He put a hand over his chest, feeling his heart beating at the speed of a horse.

"What is happening to me?" He whispered under his breath.

Still feeling haxed, Ram sat on the main chair. Why is he feeling so wired? Is he dying? Everything is her fault. Ram jerked his head. No time for mending over these things he had more important work to do. Ram took out a file from the table's drawer and got back to work.

But why did he feel like he forgot something?

Sneha's room was dark, only the side lamp providing some golden light. She read the latter in her hand with horror. While reading the book a piece of paper fell off but she never expected it to shake her to the core.

It was from someone named Sita.

*⁠.⁠✧ *⁠.⁠✧ *⁠.⁠✧

Dawn came and roosters called for everyone to wake up and start their day. It was a new morning, new day and new changes.

Sneha sat in front of the dressing table, combing her damp hair with a wooden comb. She was still processing what she read in the letter last night. She had many questions she wanted answers to but asking Ram probably would not be a good choice.

There is little to no chance he would tell her the truth. She needed to take things into her own hands. Putting the comb on the table, Sneha applied sindoor on her mang.

She gave herself one last look over in the mirror before blowing herself a kiss, "How can someone be so pretty."

Sneha walked out of the room. She got down the stairs, when passing through the living room she noticed Ram was nowhere to be seen. Wired, he does not get up till seven. After that chai incident Ram had stopped sneaking out before Sneha woke up.

Even through the bickering and fighting, they have come to a middle ground. Sneha did the household works alongside her writing like the woman of the house while Ram whenever he could, he would help with her chores.

Sneha got to make breakfast for them. Today was a great day, she wanted to finish all the chores done and then get back to writing.

Dosa and sambar would be good.

Ram stood by the kitchen door, staring at her like you are an unsolved mystery. He didn't get a wink of sleep last night, nor could he do any work. Sneha dominated in his mind the whole time. When she looked up at him with her kajal smeared eyes, Ram felt like he was looking into the eyes of Mohini. Ram didn't know what to do with his heart. It has been restless since the previous day.

His eyes widened like a basketball when he saw Sneha getting up on a stool, trying to reach the container sitting over the cabinet.

Has she lost her mind?

Sneha balanced over the small stool on her toes. Who on earth put the rice powder there? Probably that Shishupal. Her fingers brushed against the steel, trying to grab it. Just as she did, her balance wavered and before she knew, she was falling backwards and the container was flying in the air.

"OH MY GOD!" She yelled, closing her eyes.

She waited to hit the ground and for pain to take over her body but that never happened. Her back hit a hard chest and two strong arms wrapped around her middle. She looked up, Ram holding her close to him. Time stopped. Their faces were so close that their breath interwinted.

Ram didn't release her but neither did Sneha try to free herself. The moment looked straight out of a romance novel. But the moment was short lived because the next moment rice powder rained on Sneha followed by two clanks of objects hitting the floor.

Ram's lips twitched, trying to surpass laughing but he could not. He released her, leaning over the kitchen island as loud laughter erupted from him. Sneha scowled at him, lips curling into a pout.

"Y-you look like, like a joker." Ram choked on his words.

Sneha gasped, "What? A joker? Come here you Shishupal."

Sneha grabbed a handful of rice powder and smeared it all over his face. This time Ram glared at her. Ram and Sneha faught like children playing holi and soon the whole kitchen was covered in rice powder.

"What did you say again, you Shishupal?" Sneha greeted through her teeth as she covered him in more white.

Again that Shishupal?

"First of all." Ram wrapped an arm around your waist and pulled you in his chest, "I'm Ram, not Shishupal."

He didn't say anything further. Sneha's palms rested on his firm chest. What is happening to her? Is it because of that letter that she felt a weird sense of possession over him? Yes, they did get married in a wrong circumstance but he was still her husband. Who's this Sita?

Her hand fisted his white shirt and spoke softly, too softly, "And?"

His lips curled into a smile, not a smirk or a mischievous one, but an innocent smile. He removed strands of hair front her face, "And—"

Chough. Chough.

You two jerked away from each other like the other one was on fire and looked at the interrupter. Ram's face lit up like the night of deepavali.

"Ramesh kaka, Mala kaki." Ram called out but the name he said sobered you up, ".....and Sita."

Sneha's eyes fell on the beauty hiding behind the elderly woman. The blissful moment broke as you came face to face with the mysterious woman of that letter.

*⁠.⁠✧ TAGLIST : @mayakimayahai @budugu

© 𝐊𝐑𝐈𝐒𝐇𝐀𝐊𝐀𝐌𝐀𝐋 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟑, 𝐀𝐋𝐋 𝐑𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓𝐒 𝐑𝐄𝐒𝐄𝐑𝐕𝐄𝐃 — all content rights belongs to KRISHAKAMAL. Do not plagiarise any works and do not repost or translate onto any other sites.

All the rights and credits of the characters, gifs, songs and pictures used here belongs to their rightful owners.

[antash]

Everything to Somebody Else (Soobin's pov)

Pairing: Non-idol! Soobin x reader, Non-idol! Taehyun x reader

Genre: Drama

Warnings: soobin's pov, toxic! soobin, bar setting, alcohol, mentions of taehyun not by name, soobin refers to taehyun as bastard (twice), mention of a crowd, implied influenced driving, possessive behavior

Synopsis: Soobin is not happy at the sight of Y/N with another man so he creates a plot. But he's confused when it doesn't go like he thought it would.

Note: i dont think you need to read the other imagines to understand; other than the original (reader pov) version. i highly recommend doing so either before or after this one. it was fun to write soobin's pov, though it wasn't originally to go as in depth of the bar night with tyun; buy what can i say 🤷‍♀️

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

Soobin bitterly drank his drink as he watched Y/N interact with a brown-haired male from across the bar. He slammed the glass back onto the counter, not tearing his eyes away from the duo. Soobin hadn't talked with you since Halloween, which was around a month ago. He wasn't exactly sure what had the radio silence from Y/N, and he had become busy with his developing relationship with Moa. Soobin rolled his eyes, the mystery guy was obviously up to no good. And what kind of friend would Soobin be, if he didn't do anything. He downed the rest of his drink before another one; which he chugged as well and setting it onto a random table. He walked his way onto the dance floor, shoving past the crowd of people with his eyes focused on where Y/N was dancing with that bastard. "Y/N! It's been awhile!" he called out once he got close to the dancing pair. Soobin reached his hands out to grab at Y/N's arms, successfully pulling them away from the guy. And if the tall male internally smirked at that fact then no one needed to know. "Hi Soobin" they tried yelling over the music. "You stopped texting and responding to me!" he whined to them with a pout. Soobin knew that Y/N couldn't resist him sticking his lips out like that so he'd be driving off with them soon enough. "Yeah, I've been busy with work". He knew Y/N had to be lying. While he didn't know the extent of this type of job; was being a bartender really all that busy.? Soobin got pushed by someone in the crowd and he took the opportunity to further enter Y/N's space. He looked back in agitation partly from the action and partly from the bold-faced lie. "Are you okay?" Y/N asked, placing their hands onto the blonde's forearms. Soobin shook his head, pouting his lips out further, and adding an 'take me home' to sell the point. He couldn't help the teasing look in his eyes as the two friends had been in similar situations a few times before. Soobin would drink then Y/N would take him home and the two would spend the night together. "I can't. Where are your friends?" Y/N tried looking around the crowd on the dancefloor for his friends, who weren't there. Soobin just brushed the question off as he continued with his begging. It was odd to him that his tactic wasn't working. Before: Y/N and him would have out the bar door by now. They continued to deny each of his request to take him home even as they brought him back to the bar stools. ~ Soobin internally groaned as he saw the brown-hair male find him and Y/N at the bar. He gulped down the water that was handed to him before slumping onto the bar. Glaring at the shorter male as he talked with Y/N, the two of them acting like he wasn't sitting just some steps away. Soobin wondered how the guy had been able to find them, had he been waiting for them or had Y/N texted him. He was getting annoyed at how this night wasn't going according to his plans. ~ As Soobin was settled into the back of the taxi, he felt indignant. Y/N always took care of him, they always put him above everyone else, they always brought him back to one of their places. Who exactly was this bastard that Y/N didn't want to leave him for Soobin!? What the hell had changed in the month since Halloween!? Soobin huffed and crossed his arms as he fully sat up in the seat. He turned his head slight, only to catch the dark figure of two people hugging from the window. The sight managed to piss him off even more as he faced forward. "Pull over". "I'm sorry? What was that, Sir?" "Pull over. Or I punch the seats, the choice is yours?" Soobin said as he looked over at the driver. His eyes were cold as he stared at them, and his jaw seemed tense as he bounced his leg. The taxi stopped which allowed for the tall male to get out. He threw out a wad as he stepped outside before slamming the door. Soobin felt like he could barely hold back the anger that he was feeling as he walked back to the parking lot where his car was. He was not this development. Y/N was interested in him, Y/N was his, and Y/N was sure as hell not supposed to move on to someone else.

[priincekin]

Artifice - Hyuluka Oneshot

When Hyuna is coerced into accompanying her celebrity ex, Luka, to a lavish event, their troubled past and unresolved tensions resurface.

CW for an unhealthy relationship dynamic and manipulation!

For in depth tags, please check the AO3 upload. (Coming soon)

"Remind me why the hell I agreed to this?" Hyuna muttered under her breath, tugging at her too-short slip dress that clung tightly to every curve while simultaneously trying to adjust her thigh-highs, casting a glare at Luka across the limo. “… Send my compliments to your stylist for making me into a knock-off Barbie, and then tell ‘em to go play in traffic!”

Luka, of course, didn’t acknowledge her provocations. Nooooo, he was too busy prettying himself up, mascara wand poised. Figures.

Hyuna's frustration simmered as she watched him, his indifference stoking her anger.

Her eyes then fell once more on the infuriating list of 'rules' Luka had drafted for the evening. She had seen the paper before and thrown it away, but seeing that Luka went through the effort to print another one was enough to piss her off all over again. The neatly typed instructions on the crumpled paper seemed to mock her with their orderly bullets and condescending tone and Heperu’s letterhead.

“Now listen here, sweet cheeks, and listen good," she burst out, holding up the paper. “For the last time, I ain’t followin’ these rules, quit givin’ me more of these papers! You can shove ‘em right up your—“

"Please mind your language, Miss Hyuna,"

"Oh bite me! We all know I'm just arm candy, and it ain’t hard to stroke your ego for a few hours. Trust me. I’d know. So fuck off and lemme live a little! They're a joke.” She looked back down at the sheet with a scoff. “’Giggle, don’t laugh' - really? Who you tryin’ to turn me into?!”

God, the way they were arguing almost reminded her of old times. Back when he was her high-school sweetheart. Though, she was shocked he wasn’t being more argumentative toward her. By the end, Luka’s good moods were becoming rarer and rarer, and just being around him was like walking on eggshells. For a bit, Hyuna had made excuses for him — of course, with her temper, there was only so long until she was bound to explode.

Once she had blown up, the relationship was, of course, doomed. There was no recovery from the things she had said. They broke up over text. Yet, even though it was technically her fault, Luka leaving town soon after still wasn't just a minor plot twist; it was a full-on mindfuck. She'd catch herself getting all misty-eyed over their cheesy ice cream dates, where they'd crack up at the lamest jokes, or those beautiful nights in the deserted auditorium. Luka serenading her like she was the only girl in the world. Pity his dad slammed the brakes on that short-lived romantic gesture and forbade him from ever doing it again.

And then, after all that, Luka just had to go and get famous. Suddenly, his face was everywhere – magazines, billboards, you name it. Each time Hyuna saw that face, she reminded herself she should feel lucky to be rid of him, and that she had herself to thank for it.

But then, the tabloids started flaunting photos of Luka with his new girl of the month, and oh, did that grind her gears, even though Dewey and Isaac kept telling her it was nothing.

Was it jealousy? Boredom? Or maybe just an allergic reaction to being erased by some blond bombshell with a plastic smile? Whatever it was, hearing about each breakup was like savoring a fine wine; that was, until Luka had the nerve to show up at her door, needing a date for some swanky party after his newest beau gave him the middle finger.

Hyuna sank back into the velvet seat, her attention snapping back to the moment. Her fingers flirted with the edges of what was possibly the world's most irritating shawl, offering about as much modesty as a cocktail napkin. The silence was unbearably awkward; she had to fill it somehow.

“… A compliment wouldn’t kill ya, you know. Or is it too hard to admit you’re dazzled by all this?” With a teasing flourish, she let the shawl slip just a tad, winking and blowing a kiss for good measure.

Luka glanced up and quickly gave her a once-over, sighing in disappointment. “I would not say that. I feel like you should be more focused on having an amicable attitude rather than needlessly flirting.”

“Uh-huh. Yep, I’m totally flirting. Maybe if these heels weren't giving me so many damn blisters, I’d be in a better mood. But ‘till then, the only smiling I'll be doing is smiling through the pain. Now, pass the champagne, will ya?” She held out her hand.

Luka protectively moved the bottle away from her. “Please reference page four, line five of the contract. There is a clause stating that, should you be intoxicated or otherwise behave troublingly during the event, your payment will be voided and you will owe me three more dates as reparation.” He tried, in vain, to hide his smug little grin.

“There’s a what?!” Hyuna scrambled to pick the paper back up, and lo and behold; right there, in the tiniest font imaginable, was exactly what Luka had said. “Oh, you little—”

“Miss Hyuna.”

Hyuna forced herself to take a deep breath. ‘This shit is for Hyun-woo’, she reminded herself. ‘Do it for him.’

As cheesy as it was, her brother was the light of her life. For being an eleven-year-old boy, Hyun-woo was surprisingly sweet. Not at all like the assholes he went to school with, Hyuna had made sure of that much.

After she won sole custody of him, all of the expenses had fallen onto her shoulders: the bills, food, his allowance, and seemingly a million other things. Most of the time, she could make it work, even on her pathetic bartender’s paycheck.

But Christmas was a whole different kind of struggle. Living paycheck to paycheck meant there was never extra cash for Hyun-woo’s presents. The real sting was in the simplicity of his wishes – a DS game, a cheap Nerf gun, an outdated board game. That's all he wanted that year. Yet, no matter how hard she tried, no matter how much she saved, some unavoidable expense always reared its ugly head, draining away her meager savings. It seemed like there was no other way.

Finally, the limo pulled up to a grand mansion, its lights casting a cold glow over the entrance. Hyuna peered out the window, noticing two girls at the doorway: one in a suit with long pink hair, discreetly fiddling with a ring box in her pocket, and the other, with short black hair, clad in a white dress. At least some people were having a nice time.

“Well, ain't this just peachy," she muttered, her tone dripping with sarcasm. "A regular palace for Prince Charming and his temporary Cinderella."

Luka finally looked up, meeting her eyes. “Now that we're here, remember to smile and wave. It's all about appearances, isn't it?" He forced a smile himself as if to set an example, but it only soured her mood further. “Though, you are certainly at an advantage with how beautiful you are.”

“Too late for the compliment, buddy.” Hyuna rolled her eyes. “I'll smile and wave. Like I'm a damn parade float." She opened the limo door and stepped out, her heels clicking against the cobblestone driveway. The cold air hit her and made her wish, yet again, for a longer dress.

Luka, as if by magic, whipped out a plush white fur coat from the trunk and slung it over Hyuna's shoulders with a flourish. For a split second, she almost bought into it, the coat's luxurious softness tricking her into thinking he might actually care. Was he finally clued into how uncomfortable she was? To how exposed she felt? She let herself indulge in that thought, the tension in her shoulders easing off a notch as she grabbed his outstretched hand, her cheeks betraying a reluctant blush.

Then, wham. The scent hit her -– a blend of chrysanthemums and wilted roses, laced with bitter almonds. It was perfume, and definitely not her brand. That's when it clicked. This wasn't some chivalrous move; it was Luka’s version of peacocking, a display for the few nosy onlookers ogling at them. They were absolutely eating it up.

Hyuna’s grip on his hand turned from soft to vice-like, not out of romance, but so she didn’t facepalm right there and then.

How utterly 'Luka' to turn even a coat into a performance.

Hyuna shuddered, skin crawling under the perfumed fur. "Wow, so generous!” She whisper-yelled. “Real classy, Luka! Decking me out in a coat you lent to your last fling? What's the grand plan here, recycling her bling for me next?”

Luka tsked under his breath. "The one time I attempted kindness with you... How fascinating, though, that you care so much about what she did.”

They entered the glittering ballroom, all string quartets and designer outfits straight from the pages of Vogue. Hyuna sized up the crowd, mentally tagging each socialite with the most absurd names she could think of.

As Luka steered them towards the center, Hyuna operated on autopilot — a plastered smile, forced giggles at their pretentious bragging just as Luka asked. But, instinctively, she occasionally leaned over and muttered to Luka under her breath:

"You think that dude knows his fake tan is literally dripping down his arm?"

"Twenty bucks says that girl trips on her dress. God, it looks like she’s wearing a curtain…"

“Manners, darling.”

“It’s either I say it to you or I say it to their faces,” she hissed back.

‘Four hours.’, she chanted inwardly. Then sweet freedom and her even sweeter paycheck.

Hyuna continued to trail behind as Luka flitted from one circle of guests to the next. Her cheeks ached from keeping a smile while straining to laugh daintily at comments ranging from dull to outright crude and dehumanizing.

After the fifth round of banal small talk about vacation homes and polo tournaments, Hyuna found herself practically wilting into the plush fur coat. God, even the coat was getting on her nerves. Its cloying floral scent made her stomach turn, and she couldn't stop fidgeting with the garish ruffles lining the sleeves.

Luka suddenly clamped a firm hand on her wrist, stilling its motions. "Stop that. Honestly, your manners tonight..." He sighed, guiding her toward the dance floor where a few couples swayed lazily. "Just try to enjoy yourself a little?"

Luka drew Hyuna near, seemingly for a waltz. She opened her mouth to object, but reluctantly rested a hand on his shoulder, resisting the childish urge to stomp on his polished boots. As they began half-heartedly twirling, Hyuna felt remarkably disconnected — it was nothing like the way they used to dance — but it wasn’t long before a burst of coos and applause pulled her eyes toward the garden entrance. There stood the two girls from earlier, both with tears in her eyes. One had dropped to her knee, presenting a ring with trembling hands.

"Oh, would you look at that?" Luka smiled softly. "I suppose this manor would look awfully nice in the proposal pictures.”

Hyuna usually wasn’t a sucker for such cheesy moments. Still, she couldn't help but track the heartwarming scene over Luka's shoulder. A real proposal, she mused. No pretense or strings attached...

Hyuna started to turn around to watch, but everything was ruined by one uneven floor tile.

Mid-spin, her stiletto caught on it, sending her flailing backward. She crashed to the floor — thank God for Luka’s coat, or else it would’ve been even worse.

A horrified collective gasp echoed as every head swiveled her way, including the two girls. The applause and music ceased with a screech. In the excruciating silence, she felt hundreds of eyes boring into her, Luka’s especially. His grip closed on her arm, wrenching her upright with a sharp whisper. “What did I say about manners? You just ruined their entire proposal.”

Hyuna felt her cheeks burn red-hot, as guilt settled in the pit of her stomach. “Oh, yeah, ‘cause that was totally on purpose! Screw askin’ me if I’m okay, right?” She whispered back, wishing that Luka would just shut his mouth and try to cover for her.

"I cannot believe you've embarrassed me like this, after everything I've done." Luka's usual composure cracked, voice lowered to a harsh whisper. "The other guests can hardly look at me now. This appearance was crucial for my image, not to mention our agreement, and you..."

He trailed off, shaking his head. His fingers dug into the fur coat with white knuckles before he released her. When Luka raised his eyes to meet hers, he looked absolutely disgusted.

"Just get out of my sight. I need to salvage what remains of this wretched evening."

Hyuna weakly scoffed, then pulled herself free to sketch a barely passable curtsy to the crowd. “Sorry for the unplanned entertainment tonight,” she called out, trying to ignore the sobs. “As you were!” Ignoring the whispers echoing around her, she beelined away from Luka; anywhere but there was good enough for her.

Hyuna shoved through the murmuring crowd, cheeks burning under the weight of so many prying eyes. The stilettos clicked loudly against the tile floor as she muttered insults towards the gawkers blocking her escape. Just as the cool night air kissed her bare shoulders, a familiar voice called out.

"Heyyyyyy, Hyuna! Fancy seein' ya here!"

She whirled around, a biting retort poised on her lips. But there stood Dewey and Isaac, surprisingly dapper in their mismatched suits and shit-eating grins. Despite her overwhelming emotions, Hyuna couldn't restrain a hint of a smile. Leave it to these two knuckleheads to appear from thin air when she needed it most. Hyuna placed her hands on her hips, arching an eyebrow.

"What the hell are you guys doing here?" She lowered her voice to a whisper. "This ain't exactly an open-invitation party, geniuses."

Isaac rocked eagerly on his heels. "Oh it was easy peasy to sneak in the kitchen door while them fancy waiters were distracted. Plus, you mentioned you'd be ‘ere with, uh… Y’know, Mr. High-and-Mighty," he said, gesturing vaguely toward Luka's direction. “Wanted to see how it’d play out since he’s such an--”

Dewey quickly clamped a hand over Isaac's rambling mouth. "Can the chatter before we get tossed out!" He shot Hyuna a sheepish grin. "Just, uh, wanted to check in on ya. Make sure princey isn't being too much of a sleaze."

"A sleaze? Nah, try self-centered jackass," she replied, launching into a recap of the disastrous proposal scene. Dewey and Isaac's eyes grew wide as saucers.

"No way he blamed you for that!" Dewey scoffed. "What a prick."

Hyuna threw her hands up in exasperation. "Thank you! Guy drives me absolutely insane."

Isaac gave an enthusiastic nod and dove a hand into his suit pocket. "Yeah. Hey, uh, you guys tried the shrimp? I snatched a bunch when those waiter guys weren't lookin'." He held up a fistful of mangled cocktail shrimp, tails dangling limply.

“Dude, what is wrong with you?!” When Isaac raised the shrimp to his mouth, Hyuna swatted it out of his hand and onto the floor. “Rule one of stealing food! Bring a ziplock or tupperware!”

Isaac dejectedly stared down at the shrimp on the floor. “... I ran out of ziplocks.” His lip quivered like he was about to cry.

“Then buy more! You have a job!” Hyuna whisper-yelled, playfully hitting him in the shoulder. “Unless you got fired again!”

A prickling unease crept over Hyuna as she felt eyes boring into her back.

“Uh… girl? You might wanna turn around…” Dewey said, pointing behind her.

Luka was staring. His polished composure had vanished, replaced by clenched fists and an infuriated glare. Stalking over to her, his expression

"We need to talk. Now." Luka's grabbed tightly onto Hyuna's arm as he steered her away. She shot a helpless look back to Dewey and Isaac.

"Get your paws off me!" She shook out of his grasp. "You don't own me, Luka. I can talk to whoever I damn well please-"

Luka's bitter scoff cut her off as he took her wrist yet again. "Oh yes, cozying up to a pair of hoodlums should shine brilliantly in the gossip columns."

Finally, they reached an inconspicuous, plain door. Luka pushed it open, revealing a small, dimly lit linen closet. With a swift movement, he pulled her inside and shut the door behind them, plunging them into near darkness, the only light coming from the crack under the door. Hyuna bristled, backing herself away from him and towards the wall.

“Why are we here?! Someone definitely saw us come in here, and you know what they probably think we’re doin’ right now?! They prolly think--”

Luka leaned close, taking a deep breath. "This night was already disastrous enough without you flirting to make me jealous." He paused. "Go ahead, deny that's what you wanted."

“What are you talking about?! You literally told me to get away from you!” Hyuna's retort came out quieter than she intended as Luka’s hands found the curve of her waist, pulling her closer. The cold of his body against hers was so disgusting but oh so familiar, and Hyuna found herself melting into it. But she still felt his eyes on her, watching her every movement as he stared up at her from her chest.

“Don’t look at me like that,” Hyuna muttered.

Luka’s eyes finally closed, sighing softly. “Like what?”

“Like I’m something you own,” She finally found it in her to try pushing him away, and to his credit, his grip faltered. “You know damn well I hate when you get all possessive, ‘specially over Dewey and—”

“It’s not about them,” Luka cuts in sharply.

“Oh, please! They’re so gay for each other, you’d have to be blind not to—”

“That’s not the point, Hyuna!”

“Yeah, well, you’re choosing to be a dick about it!”

Before Hyuna could say anything more, his lips found hers in a kiss. Hyuna’s eyes widened. She didn’t kiss back, but she didn’t pull away either; for all she cared, he could kiss himself breathless.

Hyuna’s pulse raced as her heart, slowly but surely, began to betray her. She hated him, sure, but somewhere, buried under layers of hurt and pride, a fragment of what used to be lingered. This wasn’t about wanting him. It was about wanting what they used to have. She’d always been too stubborn to let go of things…

As his kiss deepened, Hyuna's resistance finally crumbled.

This was stupid.

She found herself responding with equal fervor, her hands tangling in his hair, pulling him closer. The small space seemed to shrink further.

So stupid.

Hyuna closed her eyes, letting him close what little distance was left between them. But it didn’t feel close enough.

She hated herself for this.

Breaking the kiss, Luka’s breath was ragged against her lips. “This is the end for us, isn’t it?” he whispered, his voice barely audible.

Instead of answering, she reached down, pulling him back up to her, their lips meeting yet again. This wasn’t just about pretenses or contracts. This was something raw, something real that wasn’t supposed to happen.

What felt like an eternity passed between them before she pulled away, a sad, sardonic smile playing on her lips.

Thank God the room was dark, or else Luka might’ve seen the angry tears clouding her vision.

"... ‘course, you had to start tryin’ to be sweet at the worst time.”

Luka looked at her, a hint of frustration in his eyes. "This isn't about timing, Miss Hyuna. This is about…"

"About what? Us?" Hyuna cut him off, sidestepping further into the shadows of the closet. "There is no 'us', remember? We're just a couple of fucked-up people who can't seem to stay away from each other, even after years." She crossed her arms, her heart racing. "I ain’t doin’ this anymore. That kiss? That was it. Now, are we gonna be adults about it and end this for good, or are you gonna keep bein’ in denial?"

"I wish it were that simple."

Hyuna let out a short, mirthless laugh. "Right, ‘cause everything's gotta be complicated with you. Newsflash, Luka, it doesn't have to be. We make it complicated. Mostly you. This was all supposed to be fake, but nope, you took me into a closet and started makin’ out with me.”

For a moment, Luka was silent. Then, with a sigh, he stepped back, his shoulders slumping slightly. "I suppose it's time we face reality. This... whatever it is, between us, it's not healthy."

The words, though expected, stung Hyuna more than she cared to admit. She should’ve been grateful that he didn’t keep fighting it, but nope. Her heart was sinking. But she nodded, her own resolve steeling. "Yep. It’s time.”

Luka reached out, his hand trembling with unspoken words. “Hyuna, I—”

“Don’t,” she interrupted sharply. “Just don’t. Spare us the dramatics.”

There was a pause, heavy and laden, as Luka seemed to process the information. Then, like a scene from a worn-out play, his charm slid back into place, smooth and unnervingly familiar. It was like he became an entirely new person in a matter of seconds, and Hyuna bristled.

“On second thought… Darling, you’re seeing this all wrong,” he said. “We’re a match made in heaven, you and I.”

Hyuna’s attempt to step back was futile; Luka’s grasp was firm yet gentle. “Luka, cut the crap. I know what you’re doin’.”

“But think of what we’ve shared. Our dates, the outings, me holding you when you cry.”

“And the fights? The tears? The screaming matches in the school janitor's closet? Dammit Luka, you were the reason I was crying!” Hyuna countered, her voice wavering.

“Hyuna, darling, that’s how relationships work. We bicker, yes, but we never fail to come back together…”

“You left,” Hyuna snapped. A knot of anger and hurt tightened in her chest. His words were half-truths and blatant manipulation, and yet she still began to feel swayed.

“You know very well that was my Father’s decision for my career and not my own.”

“But did ya fight back?! Probably not, ‘cause since when do you think for yourself?”

Luka lowered his voice, clearly giving up. “... Aside from that, who understands you as I do?” Luka’s voice was soft, almost persuasive, his words carefully chosen. “We’re inevitable, Hyuna. Stay with me, and your brother’s future is secure. That’s a promise only I can make.”

“You… really?” Her resolve wavered further. Luka was stupid rich; if he wanted to, he could pay for her brother’s college education. She’d never have to worry about paying for his gifts ever again. Luka was right. This was a promise only he could make.

“You’re so damn impossible,” she muttered, caught in the tempest of his gaze. Reluctantly, she found herself drawn into his embrace, their lips meeting in a bitter kiss of surrender.

Was it really so wrong to fall back into this cycle? To choose the devil she at least knew over uncertainty?

As their kiss deepened, her doubts seemed to dissolve into the heat of the moment.

[vanquishedjelly]

Confusing Introductions

10th Doctor X Reader Summary- The Reader has a very frightening start of their day, until a dashing man and his box comes to their rescue, but due to their brain being overloaded and confused by very new concepts, they think that they HAVE to be dreaming... right?

Writers Note- I wrote this story quite a while ago and have been contemplating if I should post it or not. It's short due to it being the first story i have ever written, but i am very willing to write longer and more in-depth stories in the near future!

It was strange.

Today was meant to go like every other day. but for some reason… Everything went topsy-turvy. I woke up with a startle from my alarm, 10:30pm like usual, signaling that it was time to get up and get dressed for work.

Everything was meant to be normal.... what happened?

I took a shower, made some food, and gathered my things. Anticipating that long work hours for tonight.

I walked to my car, quickly setting my things on the passenger side seat and then making my way around to the driver side… but something stopped me. the low humming…. the soft beeping…. the weird rhythmic vibration of the cement beneath me… I quickly looked around for any sign of machinery or… anything that could make such a noise… nothing. Nothing but the cars that lined my street and the soft buzzing of the street lamps that softly aluminate the pavement beneath me.

I turned back around, quickly opening my car door and about to sit inside until…"Come with us."

I shriek as I am yanked backwards by my wrists and slammed up against my car. I tilt and turn my head as best as I can. "What the hell are you doing!?" I shout at the people dressed as.. robots? I scoff of course, thinking this is some weird prank or an…. odd robbery. I see one of them come to my left side, gun in hand. Looks much like a water gun with shiny metal bits attached. I roll my eyes, a prank… of course. "I'm gonna be lat-" "you do not have permission to communicate." I furrow my brows. This is ridiculous! I stare at the man as he aims the "gun" at me. I wince, waiting for water to shoot out of this thing, until this weird red beam of light comes out seeming to scan me up and down. "It is what we need." I am pulled up from off the car with force. I wince from the strength of his grasp. Trying to shake him off only makes him grip tighter and I am for certain it will leave bruises. I am forced to walk with them, getting shoved every so often to keep pace.

As we walk, my eyes latch on to something I have never seen before... or at least never paid attention to.

In my neighbors yard sits…A strange police…box? I've never seen that there before… unless my neighbors has gotten really into a peculiar sense of decoration. I see a man step out of said box… He's not my neighbor and I’ve definitely haven’t seen this man before in my neighborhood- Who is he? I am knocked from my thoughts with a big shove, having stopped to stare at the man. The "robots" rushing me along as the man makes eye contact with me. He puts his finger up to his lips in a shushing motion as he slowly creeps through the shadows. I look forward hearing the same low humming and soft beeping, seeing some type of ship materialize right in front of me.

My head slowly starts to feel watered down. My brain trying to rationalize everything in front of me, yet every rational guess coming to a screeching halt as nothing right now makes any sense. We slowly approach this air craft of some sort. As we get 20 feet away from the ship, the robots start to spaz in front me, one by one falling to the ground. As the robots that were holding onto me falls, I'm taken down with it. My hands being held by the things harsh grasp, I can not catch my self- crashing into the body of one of the fallen robots. My vision turns dark, all senses seeming to collapse all at once. And that's where I am now... Having woke up in this blue box that is some how bigger on the inside than on the outside and the man that claims that he is the 'doctor' saying he saved me going on and on about quantum physics and time. "I'm gonna be honest," I say, halting the doctors unstopping discussion,

"I have already came to the conclusion that this," I jester around towards…. everything, "is a dream. This talk about time and this… thing…. box… makes no sense, not to mention the weird metal robots that tried to kidnap me….I would like to wake up now."

The doctor laughs seemingly amused, "believe what you want but this…” he mocks my jesters from earlier, "…is reality. I know that may be hard to decipher in that human brain of yours but you can't argue with a Time Lord." I stare, my mouth slightly agape, "a…. time… lord… you're kidding!" i say, laughing out of bewilderment. "nope, sorry to say I'm not kidding!" he says while shaking his head. I laugh, "well, until I am proved that I am not in a dream, I'm just gonna believe that all of this is… weirdly a part of my creativity." He tilts his head, a goofy smile showing up on his face as he makes his way around this table... controller... thing...

"Time shall tell." He quickly slams his fists down on a button, and flips a lever down. Everything kicks into actions from randoms sparks to the shaking and rumbling of the entire box as the doctor frantically pulls levers and turns things. Feeling my feet almost leave from underneath me grasp onto the nearest thing next to me, it being a hand rail. He looks at me, his grin growing huge…

"Oh this is gonna be fun!"