#Ain't no Moon to Gaze Alone

[moonselune]

Yo, seeing possessive and protectiveness in them ladies, I got a thought... what if Reader's got some primal blood in them (werewolf, dragonborn, etc.) and they get heats instead of periods?

They try to hide 'em out of embarassment or shyness, but the ladies catch on at some point and... well, Reader ain't taking care of those alone anymore. 👀

yesyesyes

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

Karlach:

It had been a long night under the full moon, and by the time you returned to camp, your body ached in ways that were hard to explain. The pull of your blood, the raw, primal energy coursing through you, was always heightened during the full moon, but this time was different. Stronger. You could feel it deep in your bones, an almost animalistic need settling in, and every fiber of your being screamed for release.

You had werewolf blood running through your veins, something you usually managed to control, but the days following a full moon always left you in a strange state—on edge, restless, and burning with a need you couldn’t quite explain. The heat was beginning to crawl under your skin, a fire igniting that was both physical and emotional. It was something you tried to hide, embarrassed by how consuming it was.

Karlach had always been your anchor, her warmth and her fiery spirit grounding you, but tonight… tonight that primal hunger you usually kept buried surged to the surface. You couldn’t let her see you like this. You couldn’t let her see how desperately you wanted her, how much you wanted to mark her, claim her as your own in a way that went far beyond just affection. It was pure instinct, and you were ashamed of the raw need clawing at your insides.

You paced in your tent, trying to burn off the heat, trying to breathe through the desire building in your chest, but it was no use. Every thought you had was of her—her scent, her skin, her laughter. You could hear her talking with the others by the campfire, and just the sound of her voice made your body react. Your fingers curled into fists, and you clenched your jaw, determined to keep it together.

But Karlach knew you too well.

At some point, she had noticed your absence, and without a word, she had slipped away from the campfire to find you. She entered the tent quietly, her large frame casting a shadow over you as she stepped inside. You froze when you heard her boots hit the ground, your back to her, trying to steady yourself. But she could smell it, sense it in the air—the tension, the heat radiating from you in waves.

“Hey, darling,” Karlach’s voice was low and soft, but there was a hint of playfulness in it. “Where’ve you been? I was starting to think you didn’t want to spend time with me tonight.”

You didn’t turn around, your muscles taut as you tried to compose yourself.

“I—I just needed some space,” you stammered, your voice rougher than you intended. “Nothing to worry about.”

But Karlach wasn’t stupid. She stepped closer, her gaze narrowing as she took in the way you stood, the way your hands trembled slightly at your sides. She could sense the heat rolling off of you in waves, and her brow furrowed as she took another step forward, her voice dropping lower.

“What’s going on?” she asked, her tone more serious now. “You’re not yourself.”

Your throat tightened, and you swallowed hard, not daring to meet her eyes. “It’s… it’s just after the full moon,” you mumbled, trying to wave it off. “It happens sometimes.”

She tilted her head, her eyes scanning you with a knowing look. “You’re in heat, aren’t you?”

The question made your heart skip a beat, and you cursed under your breath. Of course, she would figure it out. Karlach was too intuitive, too in tune with you to miss the signs. You could feel the flush rising in your cheeks as you clenched your fists, still facing away from her.

“I didn’t want to make it your problem,” you admitted quietly, the tension in your voice betraying just how much you were struggling to hold it together. “I can handle it.”

Karlach chuckled softly, her voice warm but teasing. “Handle it, huh?” She took another step forward until she was standing right behind you, her presence overwhelming in the best way. “From the way you’re standing, it doesn’t look like you’re handling much of anything.”

You let out a frustrated growl, the wolf inside you bristling at the teasing. But there was something in her voice, in the way she said it, that made the heat flare even hotter. You finally turned to face her, your eyes locking onto hers, and the intensity in your gaze made her pause for just a moment.

“Karlach, I don’t think you understand,” you said, your voice rough and low. “I want to mark you. I want to claim you. I… I can’t control it.”

Her eyes widened for a fraction of a second, but then that playful grin tugged at the corners of her mouth.

“Oh, I understand, alright,” she said, her voice husky as she stepped closer, so close now that you could feel the heat of her body against yours. “I understand more than you think.”

You swallowed hard, your instincts screaming at you to pull her close, to bury yourself in her warmth and scent, but you hesitated.

“I don’t want to hurt you,” you whispered, your voice strained. Karlach’s expression softened, and she reached up to cup your cheek, her touch gentle yet grounding.

“You’re not going to hurt me, big guy,” she murmured, her thumb stroking your jawline. “I’m right here. I’m not afraid of you.”

That was all it took to snap the last thread of restraint. With a growl, you pulled her into your arms, your hands gripping her waist as your lips crashed against hers in a heated kiss. The taste of her, the feel of her, was like fire igniting your blood, and you couldn’t get enough. You pushed her back against the wall of the tent, your body pressing against hers as the need to claim her, to make her yours, took over.

Karlach responded eagerly, her hands tangling in your hair as she kissed you back with just as much fire. Her scent was intoxicating, and you could feel the wolf inside you roaring to mark her, to sink your teeth into her neck and make her yours forever. But even in your primal state, you held back, not wanting to push her too far.

But then Karlach pulled back slightly, her lips swollen and breathless, and she met your gaze with a smoldering intensity that made your heart race.

“Do it,” she whispered, her voice rough with desire. “Mark me.”

The words sent a shiver down your spine, and you couldn’t hold back anymore. With a low growl, you lowered your head and gently bit down on her neck, careful not to break the skin but enough to leave your mark. Karlach gasped, her fingers tightening in your hair as she arched against you, her body responding to every touch, every claim you made on her.

You didn’t stop until you were both breathless, your lips brushing against the mark you had left on her skin. When you finally pulled back, you were panting, your heart pounding in your chest, but the heat had subsided slightly, replaced by a deep sense of satisfaction and connection.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

Minthara:

The full moon hung low in the sky, casting its silver light over the camp. You had tried to keep to yourself, away from prying eyes, but there was no denying it now—the dragon blood in your veins was singing, demanding more than you could suppress. This time of year always brought with it an overwhelming sense of need, something deep and primal that you tried to hide out of embarrassment. After all, how could you explain to Minthara, the fierce and proud Drow, that your draconic blood made you… like this?

Your heat had been building for days, and you had done everything you could to keep it at bay. But tonight, it was too strong to ignore. Your every thought was consumed by her—by the need to claim her, to keep her close, to hoard her like the most precious of treasures. The desire to see her adorned in something shiny and beautiful, to have her be yours in every way, was almost overwhelming.

You had hoped to keep it hidden, but Minthara was no fool. She had noticed the way you had been avoiding her, the way you had been tense and distracted, and she wasn’t one to let things go unnoticed.

As you sat in your tent, your mind racing with thoughts of her, the flap opened, and Minthara stepped inside. Her presence was commanding as always, her eyes narrowing as she looked at you with suspicion.

“What’s going on with you?” she demanded, her voice sharp. “You’ve been acting strange.”

You didn’t meet her gaze, your hands gripping your knees tightly as you tried to keep your composure.

“It’s nothing,” you mumbled, knowing full well that she wouldn’t accept that as an answer.

“Lies,” she snapped, her tone brooking no argument. She stepped closer, her eyes narrowing as she studied you. “You’ve been avoiding me. You’re hiding something.”

You could feel the heat rising in your chest, the dragon inside you growling with the need to claim her, to make her yours in a way that left no doubt in anyone’s mind. But how could you explain that without sounding like a fool?

“I’m not hiding anything,” you tried to protest, but the words sounded weak even to your own ears. Minthara’s eyes flashed with anger, and she crossed her arms over her chest.

“Do not lie to me,” she warned, her voice dangerous. “You are acting like a caged beast. What is it that you are so desperately trying to hide?”

You hesitated, your heart pounding as you struggled to find the words. Finally, you sighed, knowing that you couldn’t keep it from her any longer.

“It’s… it’s the dragon blood,” you admitted quietly, your voice barely above a whisper. “When the heat comes… I feel this overwhelming need to—”

“To what?” Minthara demanded, her eyes narrowing further.

“To claim you,” you confessed, your voice trembling slightly. “To keep you close, to hoard you like treasure. It’s… it’s embarrassing.”

There was a moment of silence as Minthara processed your words, her expression unreadable. You braced yourself for her to laugh, to mock you, or worse, to leave. But instead, she surprised you.

“Claim me?” she repeated, her voice softer now, almost curious.

You nodded, still unable to meet her gaze. “It’s instinctual. I want to see you adorned in something beautiful, something that marks you as mine. I want to keep you close, protect you. It’s… it’s ridiculous, I know.”

Minthara was silent for a moment, and you could feel her eyes on you, studying you. Then, to your surprise, she stepped closer, her hand reaching out to gently lift your chin so that you were forced to look at her.

“Ridiculous?” she echoed, her voice low and steady. “I think not.”

You blinked, taken aback by her response. “You… you don’t think it’s foolish?”

A small, amused smile tugged at the corners of her lips. “Why would I find it foolish that you wish to claim what is yours? That you want to see me adorned in the way you desire? You forget, I am a Drow. We understand the need to possess, to dominate. But your intentions… they are different. More protective.”

You swallowed hard, the tension in your body easing slightly at her words. “I don’t want to force anything on you,” you murmured. “I just… I want you to be mine.”

Minthara’s eyes softened, and she leaned in closer, her lips brushing against your ear as she whispered, “I am already yours, fool.”

The words sent a shiver down your spine, and before you could respond, she pulled back slightly, her fingers tracing the line of your jaw.

“But if it will ease your need, then adorn me as you wish,” she continued, her voice taking on that commanding tone once more. “Show me how a dragon claims their treasure.”

Your heart skipped a beat at her words, and you felt the fire in your chest flare up once more. Without a word, you reached for the small chest beside your bed, where you had been keeping the pieces you had gathered for her—jewelry, silks, things that shimmered in the light. They were all things that reminded you of her, things you had been too shy to give her before.

As you pulled out the items, you felt Minthara’s eyes on you, watching your every move with an intensity that made your heart race. You offered her the pieces one by one, your hands trembling slightly as you draped a shimmering necklace around her neck, slid rings onto her fingers, and adorned her wrists with bangles. Each piece seemed to make her more radiant, more yours, and the sight of her like this made the dragon inside you purr with satisfaction.

Minthara watched you with a mix of amusement and something else—something deeper, more intense. When you had finished, she stood before you, her eyes gleaming with that fierce pride you had come to love so much.

“Do I meet your satisfaction, my dragon?” she asked, her voice low and sultry as she did a little twirl for you.

You could only nod, your throat too tight with emotion to speak. She was breathtaking, and knowing that she was adorned in something that marked her as yours made the primal need in your chest settle, the heat cooling into something warmer, more intimate.

But Minthara wasn’t done. She stepped closer, her hands resting on your shoulders as she leaned in, her lips brushing against yours in a soft, lingering kiss.

“You do not need to hide from me,” she whispered against your lips. “If you wish to claim me, then do so. But know that I am already yours, in every way that matters.”

The words were like a balm to your soul, easing the tension and the fear that had been gnawing at you. You wrapped your arms around her, pulling her close as you buried your face in her neck, inhaling her scent and feeling the last of your worries melt away.

You would protect her, hoard her, keep her close—because she was your treasure, your most precious possession. And she had chosen to be yours.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

Lae'zel:

The past few days had been a blur of heightened emotions and restless nights, each passing moment building into a storm of desire that you could no longer ignore. As a tiefling, the infernal blood in your veins carried with it certain… challenges. One of them was the heat that overtook you at irregular intervals, a primal force that you had always been embarrassed about. You had tried to hide it, to keep your growing urges under control, but the more you resisted, the more your devilish side took hold.

It was Lae'zel who finally caught on. She was sharp, perceptive, and far too attuned to your every move to miss the signs. The way you had become more possessive of her lately, your touches lingering just a bit longer, your gaze following her every move with a hunger that was impossible to disguise. And then there was the way you bristled whenever anyone else spoke to her, the jealousy flaring so hot it threatened to boil over.

One night, after yet another sleepless struggle to keep yourself in check, Lae'zel decided it was time to confront you. You were in your tent, pacing back and forth, your tail twitching with agitation. The need to claim her, to keep her close and away from everyone else, was becoming overwhelming.

She stepped inside without a word, her presence immediately grounding you, but also intensifying the heat that coursed through your veins. You froze, your glowing eyes locking onto hers, a low growl rumbling in your chest despite your attempts to suppress it.

"Lae'zel," you began, trying to find the words, to explain what was happening, but they caught in your throat. She didn’t need you to explain, though. She had already pieced it together.

"I know what’s happening," she said, her voice firm and unwavering as she crossed the tent to stand before you. "You’ve been trying to hide it from me, but I am no fool."

You swallowed hard, looking away in shame. "I didn’t want you to see me like this. It’s… it’s not something I’m proud of. This need to… possess you, to keep you to myself. It’s too much. I don’t want you to think less of me."

Lae'zel’s gaze softened, just a fraction, as she reached out to cup your chin and force you to meet her eyes again.

"You are a tiefling, and this is part of who you are," she said, her voice a mix of strength and understanding. "Do not insult me by thinking I would be repulsed by your nature."

Her words sent a wave of relief crashing through you, but they also stoked the fire burning inside. You didn’t realize how close you had moved to her until you were inches away, your breath mingling with hers as you stared into her fierce, unyielding gaze. The need to claim her, to mark her as yours, flared again, and this time, you didn’t fight it.

"Lae'zel," you murmured, your voice thick with desire. "I want… I need to keep you close. To shower you with everything I feel, to show you that you belong to me, and only me."

She raised an eyebrow, her lips curling into a knowing smirk. "If you want to keep me to yourself all day and shower me in praise and affection, then do so if you must," she said, a hint of amusement in her voice.

You could see the way her eyes darkened with anticipation, the way her body leaned just slightly into yours. She was giving you permission, and that was all the encouragement you needed.

With a low growl of approval, you closed the distance between you, pulling her flush against your body. Lae'zel didn’t resist—in fact, she responded in kind, her arms wrapping around your shoulders as you claimed her lips in a searing kiss. It was a clash of wills, both of you pushing against each other, yet neither wanting to pull away.

When you finally broke the kiss, both of you were breathing hard, and your devilish instincts were screaming at you to keep her even closer. You gently maneuvered her onto the bed, hovering over her as you drank in the sight of her beneath you, her golden eyes staring up at you with a mixture of defiance and desire.

"I want you, Lae'zel," you whispered, your voice raw with need. "I want to mark you, to keep you here with me, where no one else can touch you."

Lae'zel’s smirk softened into something more tender as she reached up to trace a finger along your jawline. "Then do it," she challenged, her voice dropping to a low purr. "If it is what you truly desire, show me. Claim me, as you wish."

You didn’t need to be told twice. With a growl of approval, you bent down to kiss her again, your hands roaming over her body as you reveled in the feeling of her beneath you. This wasn’t just about possession—it was about the deep connection you shared, the bond that had only grown stronger with time.

As the night wore on, you took your time showing Lae'zel just how much she meant to you. Every touch, every kiss, was filled with the intensity of your emotions, the need to make her feel cherished and desired. And through it all, Lae'zel responded with equal passion, her strong hands pulling you closer, her lips whispering words of encouragement and praise.

When you finally lay together in the aftermath, your body still humming with the remnants of your heat, Lae'zel traced lazy circles on your chest, her breath warm against your skin.

"You are a fierce lover," she murmured, her voice laced with satisfaction. "Perhaps you should take these urges out on me more often."

"You are always the source of them," You chuckled softly, pulling her closer as you nuzzled into her hair.

Lae'zel’s lips curved into a rare, genuine smile as she settled against you, her presence soothing the last of your devilish urges.

"Good," she said simply, before drifting off into a contented sleep. As you lay there, holding her close, you felt a sense of peace that you hadn’t experienced before.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

Shadowheart:

The first signs were subtle. You’d find yourself tensing whenever someone else’s gaze lingered on Shadowheart for too long, a simmering heat building in your chest. It started as a prickling irritation, easily brushed off as nothing more than a passing annoyance. But then, it grew stronger, harder to ignore, until every interaction she had with anyone else felt like a personal affront.

It was the nymph blood in you, you knew that much. The heritage you often tried to downplay, to keep under control, was now manifesting in ways you hadn’t anticipated. The intense jealousy, the possessiveness, the irrational need to keep Shadowheart all to yourself—these were emotions you had never wanted to display, especially not to her.

You tried to hide it, to push those feelings down deep where they wouldn’t see the light of day. But it was like trying to suppress the tides; the more you resisted, the stronger they surged back. You began avoiding her, distancing yourself in the hope that it would ease the tension within you. Yet, every time you saw her laughing with someone else, heard her voice calling someone else’s name, the jealousy would flare up again, fierce and uncontrollable.

Shadowheart, of course, noticed. She was patient at first, giving you space and allowing you to come to her when you were ready. But as the days passed and your behavior grew more erratic, more distant, she couldn’t ignore it any longer.

One evening, after an especially difficult day where you had snapped at her for something trivial, Shadowheart finally cornered you. The two of you were in the small grove near camp, the trees surrounding you providing a semblance of privacy. You were trying to calm yourself, hands clenched into fists as you stared out at the darkening sky, when she approached.

“Alright, enough of this,” Shadowheart said, her tone firm but not unkind. “You’ve been acting strange for days now, and I want to know why.”

You stiffened, your heart pounding in your chest. You knew you couldn’t keep this from her any longer, but the fear of her reaction was overwhelming. What if she found you repulsive? What if she decided she couldn’t handle the darker side of your nature?

“I… I don’t know if I can explain,” you mumbled, still unable to meet her gaze. “It’s… it’s my heritage. The nymph blood in me, it’s causing these emotions that I can’t control. I’m jealous, Shadowheart. Irrationally, absurdly jealous. I want to keep you all to myself, and it’s eating me up inside.”

The confession spilled out of you in a rush, leaving you breathless and trembling. You couldn’t bring yourself to look at her, couldn’t bear to see the disgust or disappointment in her eyes. But then, you felt her hand on your cheek, gentle and reassuring.

“Look at me,” Shadowheart murmured softly.

Reluctantly, you lifted your gaze to meet hers. Instead of the judgment you had feared, you found only understanding and a hint of amusement.

“Do you really think this would repulse me?” she asked, her voice laced with affection. “After everything we’ve been through, you think a little possessiveness would scare me off?”

“I didn’t want you to think I was trying to control you,” you whispered, your voice raw with emotion. “I don’t want to lose you, Shadowheart. But this… this part of me, it’s so intense. It makes me feel things I’m ashamed of.”

She silenced your self-doubt with a kiss, soft and tender at first, but quickly deepening as she pulled you closer. You could feel the warmth of her body against yours, her hands threading through your hair as if to reassure you that she wasn’t going anywhere. The kiss was grounding, anchoring you back to reality, to her.

As the kiss intensified, the world around you seemed to blur. Vines began to creep up from the ground, winding around your legs, your arms, and twining around Shadowheart as well. Flowers bloomed in a burst of color, their scent sweet and heady in the air. You were entwined with her, both literally and figuratively, as the vines and flowers continued to grow, cocooning the two of you in a fragrant, living embrace.

Neither of you pulled away, lost in the moment as your kiss deepened, your lips moving together in perfect harmony. It was as if the world had faded away, leaving only the two of you, surrounded by the wild beauty of nature.

The next morning, you woke to find the two of you still wrapped in the remnants of the night’s emotions. Vines and flowers clung to your skin, twigs caught in your hair, but there was something undeniably magical about it. Shadowheart was lying beside you, her eyes still closed in peaceful slumber, a serene smile on her lips.

As you gently brushed a stray petal from her cheek, you couldn’t help but marvel at how lucky you were. She hadn’t turned away from your darkness, hadn’t recoiled from the intensity of your emotions. Instead, she had embraced it, embraced you, with a love that was stronger than anything you had ever known.

When Shadowheart finally stirred, blinking sleepily up at you, she let out a small laugh.

“Looks like we had quite the night,” she murmured, plucking a flower from her hair.

“Yeah,” you replied, your voice filled with affection. “We did.”

Shadowheart reached out to take your hand, her touch warm and reassuring. “No more hiding, alright? Whatever you’re feeling, we’ll face it together.”

You nodded, feeling a profound sense of peace settle over you. With Shadowheart by your side, you knew you could handle anything, even the wildest parts of your nature. And as the morning light filtered through the leaves, you both lay there, content and surrounded by the beauty you had created together.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

Jaheira:

After the full moon, you could already feel the familiar burn creeping into your veins. The transformation had left you raw, your senses heightened, your instincts sharpened. But it wasn’t the urge to hunt or howl that clawed at your mind this time. No, it was something far more primal—an intense, overwhelming need that surged through you, making it difficult to think about anything other than Jaheira.

You knew what it was: your heat. It always came after a full moon, the residual power of your werewolf blood igniting a fierce desire within you. And this time, it was worse than ever.

Jaheira was nearby, just on the other side of the campfire, tending to something, unaware of the battle raging inside you. She had a way of calming you, grounding you, but now, just the sight of her was enough to make your blood boil.

You clenched your fists, trying to resist the urge to go to her, to claim her in the most primal way possible. She was strong, confident, and you knew she could handle herself, but this… this was different. The last thing you wanted was to lose control and frighten her—or worse, hurt her.

So you stayed where you were, muscles tensed, trying to fight back the flood of emotions. But it was no use. The more you tried to ignore it, the stronger it became, until every fiber of your being was screaming for her.

You decided to put some distance between you, thinking that maybe it would help. You retreated to the edge of the camp, away from the warmth of the fire and the sight of Jaheira. But even that wasn’t enough. The scent of her still lingered in the air, intoxicating and irresistible.

Before you could stop yourself, you were already halfway back to her, drawn like a moth to a flame. Your steps were heavy, deliberate, each one a battle against the urge to let your instincts take over.

Jaheira must have sensed something was off because she looked up just as you approached. Her green eyes met yours, and in that moment, you knew there was no hiding it anymore.

She raised an eyebrow, a slight smirk playing on her lips as she took in your tense posture, the way your chest heaved with barely restrained need. “You look like you’re about to tear something apart,” she remarked, her tone light, but there was an edge of concern there, too.

You opened your mouth to respond, but the words caught in your throat. All you could do was stare at her, your mind a whirlwind of desire and restraint.

Jaheira’s expression softened, and she stepped closer, her hand reaching out to touch your arm.

“What’s wrong?” she asked, her voice low, soothing. That simple touch was enough to break what little control you had left. You flinched, pulling away from her, your breath coming in ragged gasps.

“I… I can’t,” you muttered, trying to put more distance between you, but she didn’t let you. Her grip on your arm tightened, pulling you back to her.

“Can’t what?” she pressed, her gaze piercing, searching yours for answers. You squeezed your eyes shut, trying to block out the sight of her, the scent of her, the feel of her.

“I’m… in heat,” you finally admitted, the words tumbling out in a strained whisper. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

There was a moment of silence, and you braced yourself for her reaction. You expected her to pull away, to be afraid, to tell you to leave. But instead, you felt her other hand on your cheek, turning your head to face her.

“Look at me,” she commanded, and you couldn’t help but obey.

When you opened your eyes, you found her staring at you, her expression calm, understanding. “You won’t hurt me,” she said, her voice firm, leaving no room for doubt.

“But—” you started to protest, but she cut you off with a shake of her head.

“No,” she insisted, her tone gentle but unyielding. “You won’t. I know you.”

Her confidence in you was staggering, and it made your heart ache. How could she be so sure, so calm, when you were on the verge of losing control? But then again, this was Jaheira—strong, steady Jaheira, who had seen and survived more than most could imagine.

You let out a shuddering breath, the tension in your body easing slightly at her words. But the heat, the need, was still there, burning under your skin, and it took everything in you not to just give in to it.

Jaheira seemed to sense your struggle, and she stepped even closer, until there was barely any space between you.

“If this is what you need,” she murmured, her lips brushing against your ear, “then take it. I’m not afraid.”

Her words sent a jolt of desire through you, and before you could think, before you could stop yourself, you were pulling her against you, your lips crashing down on hers in a desperate, hungry kiss.

Jaheira didn’t resist. In fact, she responded with just as much fervor, her hands tangling in your hair as she kissed you back, matching your intensity. It was like she was grounding you, reminding you of who you were, who she was, and that you could do this without losing yourself.

The world around you faded, and all that mattered was her—her taste, her scent, the feel of her body pressed against yours. The primal need to claim her, to mark her as yours, surged up, but this time, it was tempered by the knowledge that she was here with you, willingly, that she trusted you.

You pulled away just enough to look into her eyes, your breath coming in heavy pants.

“I don’t want to hurt you,” you repeated, but this time, it was more of a plea than a warning. Jaheira cupped your face in her hands, her thumbs brushing away the stray hairs sticking to your skin.

“You won’t,” she whispered, her eyes filled with a tenderness that made your chest tighten. “You could never hurt me.”

The last of your restraint crumbled at her words, and you captured her lips again, more gently this time, but still with that underlying need. Jaheira responded in kind, her hands roaming over your body, grounding you, reminding you that you were in control, that you were safe.

When you finally pulled away, your forehead resting against hers, the heat in your veins had cooled to a more manageable burn. Jaheira smiled up at you, her expression soft, reassuring.

“Better?” she asked, her voice low, intimate.

You nodded, still catching your breath. “Yes… much better.”

Jaheira chuckled softly, brushing a kiss against your temple. “Good. Now, let’s get you through this, together.”

With her by your side, you knew you could face whatever your heat threw at you. She was your anchor, your rock, and with her, you were never alone.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

I lovedddd writing this and when the modding support comes out I am so downloading a nymph mod. Hope you guys liked it ! - Seluney xox

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[phoniexrose02]

I wanna show you off 😜

Robby Keene x Black! Reader

Moskowitz!Reader

Fluff~

Your Relationship with Robby Right now was a Bit...

Taboo

When you an your Brother Joined Miyagi Do it was almost Smooth Sailing, Eli was Getting Grilled pretty Hard For his Behavior, While Miguel an Demetri Greeted you from 'The Dark side' as they would Put it. But there was still one Loose strand.

Robby.

Not only Robby. But his Relationship with you, You Made no Attempt to Hide it What'so Ever.

Every Party, Event DamnNear everywhere you Went to Were Tongue Fuckin' in some Dark Corner.

"What if They See Baby?"

"I Hope They Catch Us~"

(⁠ ⁠ꈍ⁠ᴗ⁠ꈍ⁠)

Eli Of all Was pretty Distort.

"Y/n That Fuck Chopped off My Hawk and Your still Locking Lips!?"

"Eli you Broke Demetri's Arm...I'm pretty Sure Hospital Bill Beats a 15 Dollar Box of Hair Dye!"

It Caused Issues. But you Two Made no Attempt what so Ever to hide your undying love, Robby Made Sure to Touch you as much as possible to piss Eli off Further.

"Tell Keene to Watch His Hands..."

"Please Stop Trying to Police My Husband Eli..."

ರ⁠_⁠ರ

When Prom Came around Robby Mysteriously Had Cash to Blow on you, You tried your Hardest to Be generous with His Money But the Dresses he Picked Were Both Beautiful...and Expensive.

"Come on Baby, I wanna Show you Off~"

(⁠ ⁠˘⁠ ⁠³⁠˘⁠)⁠♥

When you showed to Prom in your Dress, Robby couldn't stop the Heat from Coming to his Cheeks."You look Gorgeous Baby~" He wasn't the Only one Mesmerized, Everyone was Gawking at you like a Goddess.

"Hey I'mma Go Check on my Brother, He's Kinda Here alone-"

"I'll just Chill With the Cobra's" he said Quietly Reassuring you that he's Good.

"Right, Your Cobra's~" He gave her a Humourous Smile before Kissing your Cheek and Letting you Go.

(⁠;⁠ŏ⁠﹏⁠ŏ⁠)

"You Look Beautiful Tonight, Ma said You went Shopping Earlier"

Your Brother Stared off into the Party, you could Feel How Uncomfortable He was with his Own Presence. What you'd Failed to Tell Him was How Hard you cut into Robby for the Little Hawk Incident, you Didn't like seeing anyone Beat down your brothers Confidence Even if he deserved it.

"Is he Treating you Well??" He averted his gaze from Whatever he was Looking at too Robby, Tory and Kyler an his Asshat Minions."Of course, Did Mom Tell you he Bought the dress?" He Shook his Head Returning his Gaze into the Deep Crowd of People, you Finally Gave up on Cheering the Young man Up an Instead Followed his Eyes too...Moon. "Eli...go Talk to her, Don't Stare" As he Stood you could Hear a Bit of Commotion an Saw your Boyfriend fuming at Whatever Kyler had Said.

"Chill man Think of it as Friendly Advice"

"I don't think Calling my Girlfriend 'Miyagi Ho' Isn't Very Good Advice"

You sighed rolling your Eyes as you walked over."Miyagi Ho Kyler? Really? Ya know before you used to hurt my Feelings, But That was Just Sad" Your Boyfriends Face Eased From his Anger as you Wrapped your Arms around his Waist."Now Shoo~ Before i Get Miguel to Whoop your ass again" He groans Before Calling his Buddies along with him.

"My Hero~"

"Oh Ha ha Keene, Wanna Ditch this Place an Party at my House?" His Brows Pinch an a mischievous Smirk Comes to his Face." We ain't Doing Much Partying If your Parents aren't Home"

"Mom Took Pictures Before Taking Night Shift, an a Rolled a Blunt Before I Left~" He Smirked Before Taking your Hand and Leading you Out, Your Were Stunned when he Led to a Very Expensive Car."Robby Seriously, Where's all this Money Coming From??"

"ill Tell you...After i Fuck you in it~" You Felt you Cheeks Warm as he Opened the Door For you, You Hope in and Share a Passionate Kiss Before Riding off to your Own Secluded Party~

(⁠●⁠’⁠3⁠)⁠♡⁠(⁠ε⁠`⁠●⁠)

More Cobra Kai

[forgetminot]

Sharing Cigarettes.

✿ Arthur Morgan x gn reader ✿

Warnings : Both Arthur and reader smoking, fluff, tiny tiny bit of angst if you blink, reader is sarcastic and blunt (just like our man, he's a bad influence)

Author's Note : I love him

Summary : You and Arthur share a cigarette by the lake.

You make your way through the forest; the faint glow from the moon shines through the cracks in the trees and lights up the dirt path ahead of you. The only sounds that can be heard are the snapping of twigs and the rustle of leaves as you walk. You continue along the small trail and push the stray branches away with your hands as you step out onto the pebbled beach.

"Took you long enough, thought you got lost." You roll your eyes slightly at the gruff voice and make your way across the beach towards the faint glow in front of you.

"You could have waited." You mumble, raising your brow as the man shrugs.

"Would have been sat waitin' a while."

"You are so annoying." You groan, reaching out and snatching the lit cigarette from his hand.

"Don't you have your own damn cigarettes?" He protests.

"Sharing is caring, Arthur." You smile as you lift the smoke to your lips. He mumbles something quietly under his breath as you inhale deeply. "What's put you in such a mood?" You tease.

"You, for starters."

"Wow, I'm hurt." You smile, taking the cigarette and holding it out towards Arthur.

"Just Dutch driving me crazy, is all." He responds as he takes his cigarette back from you.

"Dutch is always driving everyone crazy, doesn't usually put you in such a bad mood." You move to lean beside Arthur, the rock digging into your back uncomfortably.

"He seems more... Out of it, than usual."

"In what way?" You question, turning to face him as he blows smoke into the air.

"You haven't noticed?" Arthur asks as he hands you back his cigarette and you take it with a smile.

"I mean, I guess?" You sigh. "I don't know, I think everyone is feeling that way lately."

"You not feeling the best?"

"Don't get me wrong, I love everyone in camp." You laugh quietly to yourself. "Let's just say... it's nice to have some alone time, like we are right now."

"So you like my company?" Arthur teases.

"Suppose you are okay to be around." You joke back as you blow a cloud of smoke in his direction, earning a small glare in return.

"Now my feelings are hurt." He mocks, placing his palm against his chest.

"I'm sure you will get over it." You look down at the cigarette between your fingers. "Do you have another?" You ask as you motion to the nearly dull one.

"No." He replies casually.

"No? Well aren't you useful." You tut sarcastically.

"I wasn't plannin' on sharing" He mutters as he swipes the cigarette from your hand.

"Hey! Didn't Dutch ever teach you it's rude to steal." You grin as you reach out.

"Quite the opposite, actually." He jokes, tilting his head back against the rock as he holds his cigarette up into the air.

"Shari-"

"Sharing is caring." He mocks, lifting the cigarette higher from your grasp. "Go on, You can do it!" He cheers.

"I hate you." You laugh as you hit him lightly across his chest.

"Thought I was, okay to be around?" He repeats your words as you move back to your previous spot against the rock.

"I sometimes wonder why I enjoy your presence."

"So now you enjoy bein' around me?" He smiles widely as you groan and passes you back the cigarette.

"Thank you." You mumble.

"What was that?" He laughs gently as you ignore his question and inhale another drag.

"You ever gone night fishing?" You ask out of the blue.

"I ain't the best when it comes to fishing." He mentions, gazing out onto the lake.

"I know that. That's not what I asked." You grin cheekily.

"Why are you asking?" He questions, taking back the cigarette once more.

"Because I want to go fishing." You state bluntly.

"Go fishing then." He responds- just as bluntly as you.

"Not much fun to go on my own."

"Ask Hosea." He suggests.

"Hosea isn't here, you fool." You step forwards from the rock and cross your arms against your chest as you stare back at Arthur.

"Fine, I'll come fishing with you." He sighs, dropping the smoke into the sand and stomping it out with his boot.

"Ain't like your going to be doing much, you wont catch anything." You Jest, smiling to yourself as you head towards the lake.

"Is that a challenge?" He laughs faintly as he follows after you.

"It will be an easy challenge." You grin.

"You have no idea what you are getting yourself into." He chuckles as you both stop at the shoreline.

"Oh it's on, Morgan."

[whump-in-the-closet]

I thoroughly enjoyed your medic story! Always a fan when the whole team gets a piece 😂 Do you think you might continue it someday?

Also, if you have the motivation, I beg of you to please write the western one! I feel like there's never quite enough outlaw whump

Have a great day today!

Hey thanks! I'd probably continue it if someone specifically requested it...I just have issues with pacing in a story if I'm being honest lmao

Anyway, western whump! I was very excited about this ask >:)

cw: branding, gun wound, pistol whipping, western whump, death mention, captivity, manhandling

It wasn't supposed to end this way.

With the malignant, rose-colored sun setting behind the shredded trees.

With the blood pooling out around him, staining the red clay.

With the butt of his gun glinting just out of his aching fingers' reach.

With the sheriff's men picking their way towards him.

He was supposed to get away.

They circled him, spurs cutting through the tall grass. They towered over the outlaw, smiling with satisfied confidence. The outlaw had seen vultures with that same expression in their beady eyes.

The sheriff crouched down, pushing his hat back to look at the outlaw. He smelled strongly of cigarettes and leather.

"Well, well," his toothpick shifted between his coffee-stained teeth, "Evenin' sunshine."

The outlaw grunted, keeping pressure on his injured arm. His fingers were slick with blood. His head buzzed, and he could suddenly see two of the sheriff.

It wasn't a pretty thing to see two of.

"You ain't talkin' so proud now," he said, hooking a calloused hand under the outlaw's arm and hauling him to his feet. He tied the outlaw's hands in front of him with quick movements, giving the outlaw no time to protest. "Should have put a bullet in your arm a long time back."

The rope was thick and the sheriff cinched it mercilessly.

The outlaw cursed through gritted teeth, his wrists turning an irritated red beneath the rawhide. "My-- my arm--"

The sheriff slapped him lightly. "None of that bitchin'." He gave the rope to one of his men and picked up the outlaw's gun.

The sheriff spun the outlaw's gun, letting him get a good look at the weapon.

A murderous glint flashed in the outlaw's eyes as the rope was tied to a horse's saddle. "That's mine," he spat.

I'll kill you.

The sheriff laughed. The toothpick jumped inside his mouth. "No, it ain't. Not anymore. The only thing that's yours is a date with the gallows." He stepped in close, too close, and pressed the still-warm muzzle of the gun to the outlaw's forehead. "You got that?"

The outlaw held his gaze, then dropped it. He said nothing, setting his mouth in a thin line.

The pressure increased. "Say, 'yes sir'."

The outlaw's mouth twitched.

"Say it."

Those two words brought the outlaw more pain than the bullets lodged in his shoulder. "Yes...sir."

Somehow, he made it sound like fuck you. He worked his jaw in a tight circle, swirling the tobacco and blood out from between his teeth. Wasting no time, he spat in the sheriff's face.

The sheriff didn't waste any time either. He swung the butt of the gun across the outlaw's forehead.

The outlaw crumpled-- hot pain spiking behind his eyes.

A thin line of blood traced away down his shirt collar.

His hat was knocked off his dusty hair and when they rode away, it was the only thing to mark that they were ever there at all.

A cowboy hat, discarded in a muddy pool of blood and trampled grass.

They dragged him for miles.

Stumbling, coughing, arm ripped at jarring angles. Until his legs turned to lead, and every breath made his ribs ache. His jeans were shredded where he'd fallen, knees bruised and raw.

When they arrived at the camp, they tied him to a low-lying tree. They left him alone as they built up a fire, but his cramped muscles hardly let him stretch and every movement felt like his last.

The young moon shone with a tired glimmer, highlighting the sandy patch of earth with a watery glow.

The fire snapped, sending up sparks into the grey night.

Somewhere, a coyote yipped, and another joined in, then another. The chorus became a long, drawn-out howl.

The outlaw watched as they ate.

His stomach growled. He had been on the run for weeks, and the smell of venison made the starved realization crash down harshly.

The sheriff stood up with a long stretch. He bent over the fire, adjusting a metal prong. He turned towards the outlaw with a slow smile.

The outlaw snarled. "What the fuck are you looking at?"

The sheriff approached him, nodding to two of his men.

A straw-haired man put out a cigarette on the heel of his boot and walked towards the outlaw. Another man, with a greasy mustache and striped shirt, followed.

The outlaw glared at both of them, straining against the ropes. "Fuck--" Too much pressure on his arm. Hurt. He inhaled deeply. "Fuck off."

The sheriff looked down. He spat at the outlaw.

Tobacco-stained spit dribbled down the outlaw's face, and he couldn't wipe it away. He squinted up at the sheriff.

"Do y'know how long I've waited for this?" drawled the sheriff. "A long time. A long, long time."

The straw-haired man grinned. He was missing his front teeth. "We always knew you were gonna git him, sir."

"Shut up, Barney," said the man with the greasy mustache. "Kissass."

The sheriff ignored both of them. "I reckon," he said to the outlaw. "You know how many men you killed when you stole those cattle?"

Three.

"I dunno."

"Three," the sheriff confirmed. "Three good, hard-workin' ranch hands, you cattle-lovin' bastard." The sheriff spoke in a low, harsh voice. "Now the ways I see it, you're about to get what you deserve."

A cold dread filled the outlaw. "The gallows?"

The sheriff smiled. "That. And this." He waved his two men forward and turned back to the fire. "Death is too kind for the likes of you."

The straw-haired man flicked open a knife, and the other pinned the outlaw against the tree. They cut off his shirt, leaving the fire to cast shadows on his bare skin.

The outlaw cursed them, cursed the sheriff, and cursed their mothers.

The greasy-mustached man grabbed him by his hair and yanked his head back until he shut up.

The sheriff's spurs clicked to a stop beside him.

Out of the corner of his eye, the outlaw could make out the red-iron of a cattle brand.

His breaths quickened, rising and falling at a sharp, frantic pace. "No--"

"Yes. A cattle brand for a cattle thief. Only fair."

A new terror blossomed, wrapping around the outlaw's ribcage and rising up his throat as the brand loomed over him.

He could feel the heat before it even touched. He shrank back, incomprehensible swearing cutting through the night. Like his words were the only thing protecting him from the burning touch.

The sheriff pressed the brand down on the outlaw's chest.

The pain was instantaneous and brilliant, a fiery throbbing that made him scream until his voice was raw. He ripped away, back arching in a futile attempt to escape. Raw tears burned their way down his face, blurring his vision until the world narrowed to two things: the smell of burning flesh and the sheriff's veiny hand.

He collapsed as soon as the sheriff's men let go of him, spine curved in the moonlight as he doubled over.

The agony was new and fresh and throbbing, throbbing, throbbing.

The coyotes paused their chorus, then started up again. This time, the outlaw's crying joined them.

[hrefna-the-raven]

Hello there☺️I have a question for you. I read your Fallout and story about Porter Gage and I was wondering if you'd consider writing something for Mason? It's completely fine if not. Sending much love 🫶🏻

Hi 😊

OMG thanks so much for the ask and sorry that it took so long^^ I had some troubles getting back into Fallout for this one but here is something sweet/suggestive with the Pack Alpha😉

Favourite

Fallout masterlist - main masterlist

Summary: you cleared out Nuka-World and distributed the spoils among the Pack and the Operators which deserved to be properly celebrated

Words: 566

Reader: female reader in mind but no specific descriptions used

The moon hung high in the night sky, casting a soft glow over the raucous celebration unfolding around the Nuka-Town Market. While mingling with the Pack and the Operators, basking in the sweet taste of your bloody victory, your eyes couldn't help but stray towards Mason, the leader of the Pack. Perhaps it was the haze of alcohol clouding your mind but the rugged Alpha, known for his strong demeanour, seemed oddly vulnerable tonight. You had noticed Mason's longing glances throughout the evening, his eyes searching for yours amidst the chaotic revelry. His attempts at flirting were endearing, but you couldn't deny the slight quiver in his voice, a sign that he was fighting an internal battle of nerves. A faint smile tugged at the corners of your lips, you found it endearing, a sign that there was more to this man than his tough exterior.

As the laughter and music filled the air, you found yourself drawn back to Mason's side. With each step, your heart raced, wondering what could be awaiting you in the depths of his troubled soul. Finally, you found yourselves alone, hidden away from the jubilant crowd, around a corner at the far end of the celebrations. Mason stood before you, hands firmly pressed against his sides and his gaze fixed upon your face, his rugged features softened by the flickering glow of the torches.

He mustered the courage to speak, his words tumbling out in a mix of nerves and longing. His mouth ran on its own, leaving him to watch helplessly as as the one question he tried to bury deep within spilled from his lips.

"Look. Let's cut to the chase. Have you picked your favourite yet? Maybe Gage? He made you the Overboss after all", he huffed, his voice trembled, betraying the truth behind his alpha male façade.

You rolled your eyes and playfully took a step towards him, silently daring him to continue his little jealous game, eager to tease him in return, testing how far you would need to push him to finally break him out of his shell.

"I intend to treat everyone here equally, even Porter."

Your lips twitched when you noticed a flicker of jealous anger in his eyes upon referring to Gage by his first name.

"Ain't no two things in this world that's truly equal boss. Everything has its place."

Mason's heart raced painfully, threatening to burst out of his chest and it took every ounce of his strength to take a step closer. Your bodies stood close, too much and not enough, a deep longing surged through his veins, realising how close you were, how easy it would be to touch you, feel your soft skin against his.

"Then yours is going to be underneath me", your eyes held a predatory glint as a mischievous smirk danced across your lips, "tonight, in my bed."

Mason's breath caught in his throat, his eyes darkening with sudden desire coursing through his body. There was something in your tone that struck him to his core, causing a low groan to escape his lips as he felt his growing arousal pressing against the confines of his pants. Your fingers entwined with his and leading him towards Fizztop Mountain, away from the party and unwanted eyes. For once, the mighty Alpha of the Pack willingly followed, for you were his Overboss, and rightfully so.

Feel free to reblog if you enjoyed the story 😊

[kiliinstinct]

Chapter 27:

Rating: R Pairing: Nalu FF.Net || AO3 [Ch: 1] ||| [Prev] | [Next] Next update is Upon us! Thanks to @phoenix-before-the-flame for their awesome Beta work, as usual. Next Update: February 26th March Post Dates: 15th and the 28th (Yes, my Birthday!)

Erza could sense blood lust the moment she returned home.

With the calm light of the moon on her shoulders, she felt it still. It pricked along her skin, making her shoulders tense. Fighting the urge to draw her weapon, she felt the sharp eyes of a hunter stab her as she passed the unused watchtower. At the flash of pink diving from her sight, her eyes narrowed, recognizing the source instantly. 

It was no surprise Natsu was sneaking about. He always had a nose for being where he shouldn’t be. Though she considered his wounds, wondering if he was well enough to be out of bed. What she recalled of the injuries, she didn’t think so, but it was a relief to see him alive regardless. No doubt he’d be well enough to cause mischief again soon. A good sign, but-

Kage groaned weakly as she pulled him along a bump and the rising urge for blood turned palpable forcing Erza to suppress a shudder as the sensation ran through her. Behind her, she sensed Jellal’s steps slowing as they walked by the tower, grasping his cloak tight as he felt the same call for violence: caution was his uncertain response and Erza slowed her own steps to walk alongside him, casting her gaze upwards in a silent message.

She begged Natsu to stay hidden, needing him to stay put while she vowed to chastise him later. They needed the shadow user alive, and his impulsive actions could mean the end to everything if they weren't careful. Despite the strange circumstances she found herself in, she wanted nothing more than everything to work out in the end. 

The other man, Gajeel - she recalled,  carried a relaxed air to him the whole trek back, irking her to no end, but he stayed dutifully behind them. Silent, save for his quick responses when asked a question. Each quip was vague and full of snark, dodging all of Erza’s attempts to bypass his defenses and gain any sliver of information she could.

Infuriatingly, she realized she would get nothing from him until he was ready. He walked in confidence, with hands stuffed in his pockets and a knowing smile tugging at his lips. His countenance alone made it clear that any knowledge shared would come on his terms and his own time: a fact that made her seethe. Just thinking about it made her ire rise, joining the tense blood lust in the atmosphere. 

Jellal’s warning came just in time for a pebble to bounce harmlessly off her shin, a call for attention from the large man bumbling behind them. She tilted her head back enough to acknowledge his presence, brows narrowing into a steely glare.

“Don’t get too worked up, else you want your face to match your hair.” He snickered, tips of fangs gleaming in his smile. “I’ll say what I need to when your chief wants to interrogate me.”

”You know the blue-haired dumbass already,” He explained cheekily, once again ignoring the glare Jellal sent from the insult. “I heard all about your little jaunts when traveling alone so it'll be easier to bring him in first and get his wounds taken care of. I’ll stay put on the edge of the trees til you need me. I ain't dumb enough to think you lot would trust me at first glance.”

While she agreed silently with his assessment, his added, “Unless you fairies really are as moronic as Jose thinks you are,” was not appreciated.

She'd let it slide then, but as they left him behind she sensed a tension radiating from him. Like a predator coiling to spring. Almost convinced he'd attempt to break through the gate, she'd glanced back watching him stay still as a statue. His eyes gleamed in an interest she hadn't noticed before. 

Something had caught his attention, but what? Having no further hints and his cooperation, she had no choice but to enter the village with Kage's prone body in tow and her outside friend at her side. 

“They'll both need Wendy or Porlyusica,” She'd told the current guards of the gate, Warren and Max she recognized and relaxed, knowing the psychic abilities of Warren would reach their chief in no time. That sped things up quite a bit for her. 

Luck was on her side in these early morning hours. Kage was quickly set in a new cell sealed with enforced runes. It was far from perfect, having dragged Levy and Freed from their beds to hastily put it together. With the shadow user unconscious, however, it was enough to keep him secure until the sun rose. 

Jellal was spared from being incarcerated, but Erza’s trust could only go so far. Instead, he was sequestered in a hut by the fortress to be supervised. Being considered a 'guest' provided him just enough privileges to keep him from the prisons, but it wouldn't save him from being interrogated the next day.

With Laxus involved there was no sparing him.

When she'd warned him of this yet the man merely gave a non-commital shrug, lips curved in the barest hint of a smile. “I'm aware of that, Erza. I'm just glad I was able to find you. Please, get some rest, I'll be fine.”

His wounds said otherwise, but knowing the grouchy healer, he'd be better in no time. However, it still wasn't enough for her to head to the comfort of her own home and she opted to stay in the room Lucy had been contained in months ago. It wasn't the most comfortable, but after days of traveling the woods, it was better than the roots that had once dug at her back.

She'd fallen asleep the moment her head hit the pillow. Though, the exhaustion of the following day was not something she could avoid either. 

Laxus burst in the room as soon as the sun crested the horizon, ignoring the thud of the door as it resounded off the stone walls. He crossed his arms as he glared imperiously upon her. She'd barely had time to sit up before he was questioning her in a thundering boom.

“I guess congratulations are in order for catching that bastard,” He drawled insincerely, “But I can't help but wonder why you brought along two stragglers with him.”

Looking out the window, she carefully judged the sunlight to be in the early hours of the morning and rubbed the bridge of her nose. “It's too early for this.” she muttered.

“You should have explained this last night,” He pressed, dismissing her complaint. The disdainful tone was not lost on her, “The old man’s already setting up a meeting between us and bringing that man with him. But asking Freed and Levy both to watch Kage? Are you insane?”

“Are you saying Freed isn't capable because of one failure?”

His growl of frustration was answered enough and she slid from the makeshift bed with a stretch of her arms, muscles aching and joints popping in her wake. 

“I had hoped Levy could buffer him and that he had ample time to recharge by now.” It felt like the obvious choice to her, what more did he want? 

“Or are you perhaps upset you weren't informed first? I didn't see you at the gate so I didn't bother.” She noted how his fingers gripped his arm, stubbornly staying silent. He chose to double down on her, face set in an impassive mask as he drew to his full height.

His silence was a tactic she was used to; Staring coldly until the others began blubbering out their secrets. For a man as large as him, it had a high success rate. Unfortunately, Erza was not so easily swayed.

“You can get your answers when I'm changed and not a moment sooner,” She said, already fishing for her boots and what clothes she'd taken from her person the night before.

Erza held his gaze as she grabbed a scarf to tie her hair back. “I'm not doing so in front of a man who's already spoken for.”

The silence became stifling while neither moved. Laxus, unperturbed by her words, remained in the room. A mental battle of wills occurred between them before Erza finally felt annoyance travel up her spine. She had half a mind to kick him out with force if need be, but instead she allowed him one consolation.

“The man I brought in is to me what Freed has been to you: a friend on the outside. As for the other, I won't discuss him until the meeting. So go.”

It took only a second for Laxus to accept her meeting him halfway, head nodding just enough to acknowledge her as he left the way he'd come. Though he shut the door gentler the second time around.

She rubbed the bridge of her nose again with a groan. This better not be a sign of a headache coming along.

.

.

.

The dull edge of a wooden spoon smacked the side of Natsu's leg as Porylusica forced him back to his seat for the fifth time that morning. 

“Will you stop moving?” She snapped, agitated and not half as awake as she acted. While the older woman was as healthy as the rest of them (or more so) - the trek from her home to the middle of the village was a long one and she had yet to fully catch her breath. 

If he would just stay put. That would make both their lives easier and the check up would end faster. Natsu was painfully aware of this, rubbing the side of his knee that smarted from her strike. But he couldn’t bring himself to hold still despite his best efforts. He jolted in place with a sharp hiss like steam escaping a kettle when she smacked his hand away from his leg.

“Oi! I'm tryin', you old hag!” He growled, settling back down when she threateningly held the spoon up again, ”You're a little crazy to be beating your patients like this, sheesh.“

”You're sturdy enough to handle it,“ was the flippant reply as she began to check his bandages again. ”Perfect bandaging as usual, Wendy, good job.“

”Oh, it- it was nothing.“ Wendy demurred, sitting to the side, biting her lip in concern. While she’d dutifully been assisting Porly when asked, she’d been quiet for most of the check up. And Natsu could have sworn he’d seen a blush speckling her cheeks on and off when he caught her staring at him. A detail he filed away to look into later.  

Porlyusica grabbed his wrist and eyed the bandages on his forearm critically. She clucked her tongue. “This however, is sloppy. But it’s still too good for what i’ve seen this idiot do. Someone else redid these, but with how much this moron moves about it doesn’t surprise me they came loose while you were gone.”

The old healer made quick work of retying the bandages with practiced ease, hardly looking at what she was doing as she glanced off to the side at Wendy. “Well, who was on duty yesterday?”

“Uhm… Elfman for the morning shift,” She began, brows furrowing in thought as she tried to recall. “Then it was Mirajane after I left. Then I think it was….” The red crept up her cheeks again with wide eyes, face darkening in shade before continuing,  “.....Lucy for the evening?”

“The little miss who owes me a new cane?” Porly muttered, “Someone ought to have taught her how tie a knot that isn’t a bow.”

“Aunt Porly please-”

The banter between healers continued as Natsu tried to wrangle every last grip of discipline he had to hold still. Wendy’s odd actions aside, it was far too difficult to manage, especially with his window open. Lucy had managed to sneak him back just before Elfman arrived again, but it was hard to rest after what he witnessed. Even now, hours later the events still played fresh in his head.

Erza was back and safe. And Kage was in their possession once again, still breathing. That wasn't how Natsu wanted him. He’d struggled against the bubbling desire to leap from the tower to finish what he’d started. But a chokingly familiar scent left him frozen against the tower floor until Lucy pulled him back to his feet to leave.

It was still there now, the barest hint on the wind that wafted through his open window.

Natsu hated it. 

Every part of his being screamed at the recognition of it. It couldn't be what he thought, right? The familiarity was much the same as the two in the room with him, and that alone filled him with apprehension.  He wanted nothing more than to dart out the doors and escape the protective walls of his home just to corner this stranger and chase him out.

When he returned to his home, Lucy promised to bring news as soon as she could: he'd heard nothing. And the two healers by his side were just as in the dark.

”Once I'm done here, I'll be checking in on the prisoner,“ Porly had said when she originally entered, biting back a yawn. Grunting her annoyance, she wouldn't spare Natsu a chance to voice his opinions on the matter, pulling him to sit up straight faster than he could blink, ”We can't get information out of a dead man after all.“

He bit back a response when he saw Wendy shuffling in behind her, quickly waving in greeting. It was better not to make a scene with her around.

After that, it had been a tug-o-war between keeping still and Porly's raps against his knees and he was starting to get fed up with it. His body quivered in agitation, ready to pounce an invisible enemy at a moment's notice and it was beginning to tear at everyone's nerves. 

”... if it will make you hold still for five more seconds,“ The older woman rasped, tugging at his hair to rip his gaze from the window, ”tell me what's got you so distracted. Get it out of your system.“

Well that was……strange.

Wendy matched Natsu's look of surprise. It was an unusual day that Porly cared enough to ask what was going on in a person's head, but from the look she gave him, it was clear her patience was running thin.

”Go on!“ At the snap of her fingers, Natsu grunted, sinking into his shoulders like a scolded child.

“... don't you smell it?” He murmured, voice crackling over its whisper. 

“... smell what?” Wendy slipped from her seat and stood behind her aunt, peering at him with her lips pursed and eyes narrowed. “What is it?”

He nodded to the window and bit back a snarl, “Another Draconis. Just outside of town. He's been there since last night.“

And when he finally looked back, the calm expressions on their faces mixed with an uncomfortable silence made him realize one thing: they were aware and refusing to talk about it.

Natsu didn't bother stopping the snarl this time, heat rising in the back of his throat.”Do neither of ya' care?! If we can smell him, he can smell us and-“

”And what?“ Porly asked, expression grim as she began to check him over once again. ”You have no way of knowing his intentions, do you? What if he's left like we did?“

”But-“

Another rap of the spoon and he fell silent, ”If you're that worried about him finding you, then I'll just say you're stuck to bed rest for another week.“

That got his attention, all but rising from his seat in his anger, “Hell no! I ain't sitting back if the town is in danger. If I'm good to go then just say so!”

And again... a thwack of the spoon: on his arm this time. And the healer sighed, gravely watching him through her tired eyes.

“Fine. You're free to explore.” 

That was the first good news Natsu had heard since he woke, finally smiling as excitement bubbled under his skin. “Then I can-”

“BUT- “ Porly interrupted him with a firm hand on his chest, pushing the Draconis back to his seat, “only with someone on rotation to accompany you. And AFTER you've eaten, nitwit!”

He didn't bother holding back the pouty whine.

Damnit.

It was natural to be on edge. For a Draconis, scent meant far more than many understood. It could tell them where someone was, the magic that hummed from their veins, who they’d been around, age and even their emotions if it was strong enough. A draconis could learn all that and more from a quick whiff of the air and those with keen noses knew best to sniff first and ask questions later.

Natsu’s tracking abilities were second to none. He could pick up the barest hint of a trail better than any hound.

And he knew, without a doubt, that this scent held a hint of danger to it. Something that raised his awareness and pulled at him to growl every time it assaulted his nose. And while it felt familiar, the fact he couldn't pinpoint exactly why and how bothered him more than he wanted to admit. 

But one thing was certain, he was telling the truth. If he could smell the newcomer, then he could also smell them.

.

.

.

Resting outside of the large gate, Gajeel relaxed under the nearest tree with an air of indifference as he crossed his leg over the other with a bit of jerky dangling from his mouth. If not for the circumstances, he'd look as if he belonged there: a sharp addition to the natural wildlife.

His pose was a ruse, one he'd affected over years of practice. Appearing relaxed was easy, but his senses were on high alert. He already picked through the scents that were carried in the air, taking note of each fairy as they scurried about inside their village. His sharp ears caught the familiar pattern of steps trudging along beaten paths. No doubt most denizens were working around their daily chores, unaware of the previous night’s events. But he still caught whispers of rumors that made him smirk.

Erza’s sudden return in the dead of night was the hot topic among hushed voices that came his way. They were relieved at her safety, but it couldn’t soften the anger and fear that laced their words. Kage’s attack was poorly timed, interrupting an important festival that effectively turned every adult and child within those walls into an enemy who spoke his name with pure venom.

It was a fact Gajeel laughed at each time he heard a new comment pass by the walls. A part of him regretted he would not be there when Kage woke, dumbfounded and angered by the fact he'd been sent right back to the enemy by those he considered an ally. 

“Jose would get a kick out of this,” He mused, considering the mission he'd been sent on originally. With Kage's appearance out of the blue, he and his other two companions had to make a few quick changes that were easy enough to handle, but now….. 

Something familiar caught his attention, the wild scent of ash and smoke laced with magic. It stood out from the weaker scents of the many fires that were scattered about the village. It was a reminder that all his carefully made plans had one kink that was much larger than Kage. 

The true problem with this addition was informing his other partner, who'd long returned to Jose's encampment. Sending her a message would be more difficult. Unless -

Hearing the guards change at the gate, he listened to their discussion with rapt attention, frowning as they muttered about the current meeting happening between the Elder and his closest confidants. He'd only heard rumors of Erza beforehand and had known of Laxus through Jose's over confident mutterings months ago. But from what he knew, their decision would come quickly enough. They'd either allow him or haggle with his information. Tearing into another piece of jerky, he rumbled at the thought, mind already jumping through hoops to consider the many contingency plans he might need.

”That guy better not screw this up,“ He muttered, thinking back to Jellal, his newest companion in this jaunt of his. He'd been a last minute addition, pulled out of camp right under Jose’s nose. Only time would tell if the decision would be worth it in the end. 

The wind changed direction, just enough for the fiery smell to strike him once more, bringing with it two others that made his nose burn and pupils narrow with interest. Three? 

He savagely ripped off another chunk of his meal as he chuckled. Things were getting more interesting by the second.

He couldn't wait to shake things up the moment he was let through those gates.

Which was exactly the topic still under discussion back at the keep. After tending to Natsu, Porlyusica arrived early, and was quickly escorted by Freed and Levy to check on Kage's wounds while they reinforced the barrier. The shadow user was not in immediate danger of death, but the filth that clung to him for days had seeped into his open wounds, festering into a fever that had taken hold. It was a notion that filled those in the keep with spiteful pride, but only managed to garner Makarov's worry.

”As much as I would like him to suffer for what he's done,“ He'd muttered once hearing the news, ”we can't deny the fact we need to try harder to get information out of him. Perhaps this failure to regroup with his clan will be the tipping point we needed.“

But, with the man still out cold and in desperate need of medical attention, the talks between him and the others were on an entirely different topic: one that had Erza rubbing the bridge of her nose countless times as she repeated herself more times than she felt necessary.

”I told you,“ She spoke earnestly, voice fierce and determined, ”He's a friend.“

”A friend we've never heard of before,“ Mirajane pointed out, having been invited into the discussion. She sat beside Laxus, far more calm than the taller man, but just as stern. Her voice no longer carried the soft support she'd give her peers usually and backed up Laxus as if they'd planned the discussion ahead of time.

It was a sight that was both welcome and unwelcome for Erza: the two of them finally standing together for the first time in what felt like ages. Whatever was going on between the two either had been dealt with or was currently on the back burner in lieu of them standing as a united front against her.

”I'm not saying we can't trust your judgment,“ Mirajane continued, nudging Laxus' side when he'd rumbled his opinion beneath his breath, ”but it would be easier to understand if you'd give us more information than that. Even Laxus told us more about Freed when he came to join us after all.“

Erza twitched, remembering her conversation with Laxus that morning. It seemed he recalled what she'd said and was more than willing to use it against her, the curve of his lips speaking volumes as Mirajane held the table. 

As much as she wanted to remain stubborn, however, she knew she had a point. 

And with Makarov remaining silent during the discussion, listening to their back and forth as he bided his time, she knew she couldn't hold off for much longer.

"I met him years ago,“ She relented, finally, voice a mere whisper as she tried to remember the events, ”when we were both young. He traveled apart from his clan often with his family to gather information about the outside world and I... had no one. They'd offered to take me in at one point, but I had refused at the time.“ She paused to fix them all with a hard stare, ”Don't ask me why. I'd like to keep SOME things to myself after all.“

When they didn't press, she relaxed, ”I ended up seeing him on and off even after I joined here. We traveled to the same villages and his family no longer joined him as he got older. I don't know the full story, but his clan are very interested in knowing what the world is up to, but have moved too far North for him to rejoin them just yet. I admit to there being a few times I fell into a scrape or two that he helped me with and we'd trade information and wares during those brief encounters.“

That should be enough, right? 

“Is that enough information for you? I don't know who he's currently traveling with or why, but he's never had reason to harm me or anyone I care about. I trust he's still the same.“

'At least,' She thought to herself, 'I hope that's still the case.'

“... And what do you know about the one you left lurking at our walls?”

This was what Erza dreaded saying, lips thinning to a line as she considered the question. “He didn't outright say it, but it's possible he's from Jose's clan. He mentioned Kage had expected his assistance once they'd run into each other.”

Sparks leapt from Laxus’ shoulders and dotted the air, pricking her skin with sharp angry nips and her fingers reflexively curled into a ball. “He purposely withheld information, saying he'd be willing to tell us all he can if we let him in.”

“And you believed that?!” Laxus interjected, looking ready to leave the room and walk straight out the gate to question Gajeel himself. 

Not for the first time, Erza felt the migraine building behind her eyes. Under most circumstances, she'd understand his point of view, but with things as they were... “He was the one who offered to wait while we discussed rather than force his way through the gates. And he hasn't attempted anything thus far.”

Mirajane hummed: noncommittal as she considered this, glancing back and forth between the two heavy hitters. Whatever thoughts she had, she kept them quiet, but it was clear her mind was whirling a mile a minute with possible outcomes and opinions. 

It was Makarov who finally spoke. With hand raised to stop Laxus from speaking further, he scrunched his nose, bristling his mustache in the process and nodded, “... and do you trust this man to remain docile?”

A hard question, one that Erza felt no need to lie about, “I can't say I trust him as far as I can throw him, but he's held true to his word this far. I feel it would be a mistake to not hear what he has to say. We can keep an eye on him, and Jellal has promised they mean to work with us. I'd like to give them the opportunity to prove themselves before judgment.”

“You can't be serious-” Laxus started, anger lacing his voice, but was silent again with a glare from his grandfather. The older man was not interested in further arguments.

“To let information fall away due to our own doubts would be quite the waste,” He admitted, casting his gaze to Laxus and Mirajane, “If we agree to set limitations on where they can travel until we can ascertain the truth behind their words, will this settle you?”

For a tense moment, it looked as if Laxus was about to deny the request. His stubborn pride and protective nature for the village had been struck too many times to count in the previous months and this felt like a wedge readying itself to dive into the cracks. He looked around the table before settling his gaze on his partner, who quietly placed a hand on his shoulder in a gesture that eased the tension in his shoulders.

“Just think,” Mirajane said, voice filled with mischief, “You can follow them wherever they go and shock them if they step a toe out of line. Wouldn't that satisfy you?”

As much as he tried to hide it, everyone glimpsed the slightest curve of his lips as he nodded. Erza sighed, relieved he'd see sense. They'd already made the mistake of distrusting Lucy when she'd first come to them and had more than proven herself by now, but this... 

Erza didn't want to consider what would happen if they let an opportunity pass them up like this.

“As much as I hate the idea of playing caretaker,” Laxus drawled, already on his feet and heading for the door, “if I can keep an eye on them myself, then allowing them both to stay is no problem, but I won't be held accountable for what happens to them if they threaten us. That alright with you Old Man?”

Makarov sighed, looking as if Erza's own migraine had traveled to him, but he stood as well, resolute in the decision. “Fair enough. Bring them to me.” He looked from Laxus to Erza, “both of you. Porlyusica has yet to inform me of the other's health, but we can at least get this out of the way instead of stringing it along.“

He didn't have to tell either of them twice. Laxus was gone in a blink and Erza soon after, giving a brief farewell to Mirajane in passing. As she exited the room, however, she paused in her steps when she heard Makarov’s voice, piquing her curiosity.

”I'm glad you and my boy seem to be getting along again,“ the chief said, voice much lower than before and full of a quiet hope. Erza had shared this sentiment and wasn't surprised he would bring it up. 

However, the exasperated sigh that reached Erza's ears was a surprise as Mirajane's voice no longer carried its earlier amusement, ”We... I'm trying, Makarov, but I... he... makes it so difficult sometimes.“

”... should I speak to him?“

“No, please, leave it to me,” Mirajane pleaded, “He's already starting to make an effort. This will just take a little more time, that's all. I’m sure of it.”

Erza chose not to stick around any further as guilt towards her eavesdropping piled into her stomach like rocks. Those words were not meant for her to hear.

.

.

.

Kage could barely move when he opened his eyes. The stank of medicinal herbs and sutures greeted him. The healing magic that painfully stitched his body back together beneath the tight bandages left him in a disoriented haze at each attempt to roll over.

He was safe. That much he knew. Cold stone walls caged him at all sides, offering more comfort than he had while struggling against nature for the past days. But where exactly was he?

He squinted through the gloom and recognized the ceiling. That broken stone he'd counted infinite cracks into. It wasn't the same as the one he'd busted out of, but was close enough to exact. And as much as he wanted to be disappointed, the fact he had a roof over his head relieved him in ways he didn't want to think about. 

Another attempt to move and all he'd managed was to push himself up on his elbows with the world spinning in the process. He scrunched his eyes, willing the dizziness to fade and struggled to recollect what happened. 

Kage didn't have to think for long as the memory of his last loss laughed from outside the cell. The cruel chuckle brought him back to speed in an instant, eyes snapping open as he gazed out the bars, unsurprised at the pair of red eyes looking back, crinkled with glee.

“... Gajeel.” He muttered darkly, coughing under his breath as his voice cracked from disuse, “So you got me back here, after all.”

“Your deadweight was the only inconvenience.“ Gajeel rumbled in amusement, seated on a stool comically smaller than his large frame. He balanced on one of its legs, back resting against the wall as he did, ”Not a bad place, though. Nice and damp. Can't for the life of me figure out why ya' wanted to leave it.“

The sarcasm wasn't lost on Kage and what little magic he had left reacted to the unforgotten rage that simmered inside him. Unfortunately, the attempt ended as his body screamed in protest. The thin wisps of shadows that lifted from his skin curled pitifully in the air as he writhed in pain. Gasping, his lungs burned as he inhaled the dank air desperately. 

Another familiar scene. The barrier that had locked him up before had done the same. Dazedly, he wondered at their stupidity for using the same tricks twice. Hadn't they realized he could break through these things yet? He'd spent months finding the weaknesses in Freed's enchantments, enough to know the Rune Users patterns like the back of his hand. What were they playing at?

Ignoring Gajeel's increased laughter from his position, Kage expanded his senses to the cell surrounding him, expecting to feel the same barrier as before, but rather than the familiar patterns and repetition he'd memorized before, he felt a different magic altogether, mixed in and changing the coding at every given second.

Of course, he couldn't help but laugh at his own folly. They really weren't that stupid after all. “I hadn't realized they had two people with barrier making abilities.” He murmured, embarrassment coloring his words.

Gajeel snorted, his laughter cut short, ”And that's exactly why you're a terrible scout.“

Kage couldn’t keep the disdain he felt from curling his lip, glaring through the thick bars to meet Gajeel’s level gaze. “I left them confused and underestimating me for months! All while I listened to everything they had to say. Don't you make the same mistake they did!”

Honestly, attempting to threaten a man as big as Gajeel, the man of Iron, was hilarious in retrospect. Stuck bound to a grimy bed and bandaged up after not only losing to a fire head draconis, but knocked flat on his ass by this man as well, attempting to seem important was futile. His pride refused to back down, however. A fact that Gajeel seemed to notice and something like annoyance settled into his features.

“Really now? You think you did a good job here? You think your spying skills are something you should be proud of? Don’t kid yourself.” Gajeel leaned forward and all legs of the stool connected with the floor in a sharp snap that made Kage flinch. He fixed the shadow mage with an unblinking stare as he held up his hand to slowly tick off his fingers.

“When you were here did you learn anything new? Anything that Jose didn’t truly already know? Or did you just learn how to read a few enchantments while you laid back?” Kage remained quiet.

”But fine, you tricked them enough to escape.” He ticked another finger, “Did you at least lay low, to gather more information and to learn the inner workings of the village? Their warriors, their schedules, weaknesses in the encampment?” And another came down.  “No. Instead you jumped at the first chance you got and immediately attacked their new bundle of gold, not even while she was alone and got your ass whooped. So now you're back here at square one, except the fairies know the ins and outs of your powers and you’re too fucked up to try and get away again. Yeah,“ He finished recounting the failure with his brow raised, iron studs glinting in the candlelight, all his fingers curled back into a fist, ”You were spectacular.“

There wasn't an attempt at hiding the sarcasm now. Kage flushed at the reminder and looked to his wrapped hands, biting his tongue to silence himself.

When worded like that, he really couldn't deny he'd made all the wrong decisions in his escape.

But that did nothing to answer the obvious questions and he balked when they came to mind. “.... you're a traitor to Jose. You've been with them all along.”

Gajeel’s bark of laughter was so sudden and it echoed off the walls as loud as brass, “Is that what you think?” Raising a hand, he revealed cuffs made of thick iron keeping him attached to the chair he sat in. “Jose's so-called favorite informant brought me in and stuffed me here. I aint trusted anymore than you.”

“But you're not behind bars.” Kage shot back.

Gajeel's grin was far too large and full of so many sharp points the shadow user felt like a predator was staring him down, “No, unlike you, I know how to do my job.”

“... and will they be proud of your job,” He questioned, mouth full of acid, “When they realize you betrayed one of their own and kept me here?”

He hadn't expected the man's laughter to return yet again, booming and cackling as a long, serpentine tongue peeked out from between his lips. Gajeel stood up, ignoring the chain that bound him and loomed over the bars, slit eyes almost glowing in the darkness.

“If anything,” He drawled, eyes glinting wickedly, “I'll be praised for getting rid of the weakest link. Do you really think Jose had ANY plans in recovering you once you were caught? Really? After you'd already proven to be next to worthless?”

It felt like he was drenched with a bucket of iced water from the ocean itself. Kage's body froze and all sense of security bled from him in an instant. Time slowed and his mind whirled at the thought. Jose never did like failures and expected perfection from his entire clan.

When was the last time he'd seen anyone forgiven for a botched job? Gajeel was right and he'd never felt as stupid as he did at that moment.

“... but... ” He rasped, grasping for any line of hope, “My friends... my family they wouldn't-”

“Wouldn't they?” Gajeel asked with a mocking tilt of his head, “They already think you're dead, little man.”

[writtenjewels]

See No Evil part 3

Part One, Part Two

Thanks to Salim's running commentary, Jason had a pretty good idea of what their surroundings looked like. They were in some underground temple with statues and artifacts, and so far the only signs of life were the “demons” crawling around. Salim said they looked like giant bats but they were all leathery flesh instead of having any fur.

Jason really liked the sound of Salim's voice. It was low and soothing and his accent made certain words roll off his tongue in a charming way. Like the way he said Jason's name, for example.

“We are not going to find any cake down here,” Salim spoke up.

“Cake?” Jason echoed, caught off-guard by the strange comment.

“It's made of batter.” Jason blinked a few times and let out a snort, his fingers pinching into Salim's sleeve. “What is smarter than a talking bat?” Salim went on. Jason waited, already smiling. “A spelling bee.”

“These are so bad,” Jason chuckled.

“I thought it would help lighten the mood,” Salim explained. “And incidentally, the demons stay away from light.” Jason let out another soft chuckle. It felt good to laugh about something in the middle of all this. They walked on in silence for a few minutes. Salim gave a warning shake of his arm before stopping. “I found something.”

“Another artifact?” Jason guessed with a touch of amusement.

“Yes.” He felt Salim shift as the man bent down to grab the piece. In the next moment, Salim's hand was in his. He guided Jason's hand over the artifact, letting him feel the carvings. “This one has a hole in it,” Salim mused, “possibly meant to depict the moon. The missing piece may be a stone or a gem.”

“You're really into this shit, huh?” Jason tilted his head to the side, the amusement now on his face. He could hear the curiosity and fascination in Salim's voice as he spoke about the artifact.

“Knowledge is never a waste of time,” Salim answered, putting the object back down. Jason instinctively squeezed the other man's hand before he could pull away. “It's something I'm proud I passed on to my son.”

“You got a kid,” Jason noted. “That explains the dad jokes.” Now it was Salim's turn to chuckle and Jason felt a little flutter in his heart hearing it. He tried to angle his face toward the noise. Jason more or less was used to being blind but it still frustrated him at times. How would he fight if one of those demon bats attacked them?

“What's wrong?” Salim asked, and Jason realized he'd been gripping onto the other man's hand tightly.

“My eyesight ain't gettin' any better, Salim. I'm fuckin' useless in a fight.”

“Don't worry about that,” Salim soothed him. “I will be your sword.”

“But then what'll I be to you?”

“That should be obvious.” Salim swept his thumb across Jason's hand. His heart fluttered again. “You are my shield, Jason. Your confidence keeps me from falling into despair, your presence prevents me from being alone. I need you, Jason; we need each other.”

Jason couldn't find any words. His heart was beating fast in his chest, his face hot in a blush. He couldn't see it but he could feel the intensity of Salim's gaze on him.

“Semper fi,” he promised in a shaky voice. Salim squeezed his hand and they moved on. Jason's heart was still racing.

[lostalienchild]

Erythrophobia

A fear of the color red

Characters: Beidou, Ningguangg, Kazuha

Warnings:dub-con, NSFW, non-con, mentions of trafficing, reader is GN

[heavy on the mind but light on the execution. This is just an idea that I have. Mostly a drabble. I want to continue the idea but I dunno. Reader is a victim of trafficking. Might include other characters later on? Might turn into a series might not idk. I'm a fan of time skips. Not proof read.]

Summary: Lady Ningguangg doesn't need to dirty her hands, even when the only way to get what she wants is surrounded by dirt. She just extends her right hand to finish the deal. Although she isn't too big on sharing.

Art belongs to :Kichirock

"A bass with all obsidian scales and golden eyes?"

"Yes, a miniature one."

Half moon eyes withered with age, searching for a punchline.

Ruby eyes, unblinking. The old man looked befuddled. Openly surprised he floppily regathred himself. "Well yes... We always have thoes on hand, but if I may ask, why would the Cruz require such a...a controversial item? Surely you have enough hands on deck? Wouldn't it cause unrest amongst the crew, let alone throughout Liyue harbor."

The towering woman responded. "Don't worry pops. This ain't the normal business deal. A rather important business partner of mine has been eyeing this shipment for quite some time now. As soon as the shipment came in as a matter of fact."

"I-I see. Well then, we'll make the delivery tonight at guyun. The usual time of course."

A sound of approval exited the woman's mouth. "Right, I'll see you then. Let's keep it quick. This is top secret. Not even the crew knows so keep a low profile."

-

On the shores of Guyun only the crashing of waves could be heard. Even the motor of waverider made little to no noise as it glided alongside the rocky shore line. The full moon would usually offer you some sort of comfort, but tonight its cold moonlight glared at you. Like a spotlight, it cast down its luminosity on you and you alone. It caused your skin to glisten and you practically glowed. You wished you could use the cover of darkness like most people, but with hands bound and being surrounded by ocean, the moon would not allow for that tonight.

You watched as two silhouettes, one tall and the other not as tall, exit the small craft and step into the waves. No one spoke which made the encounter all the more eerie. The men behind you that stood at attention released your forearms when they felt the woman was close enough. It gave you the briefest chance to run, but the idea of escape was never there, not unless you wanted to drown.

Up close the tall silhouette was clearly a woman, the shorter most likely male. With a nod the woman dismissed the other two men while pulling you towards the craft. You knew once you stepped into the waves that your chance of escape, even by death, would be squandered. But even in this moment death by a watery grave seemed scarier than the unknown than the ultimate unknown. The waves reached up to your knees before you were able to actually stepped into the water craft. Once in, the smaller figure offered you a towel. "I hope we didn't scare you too bad back there." You took the towel but didn't answer. Not because you couldn't. You could have screamed at anytime. Not that anyone would hear you. You just didn't know what to say, or why he would even bother speaking to you. "Welcome to the Crux. It's a bit uncomfortable, but it's only temporary."

You looked at him through the darkness. The lights of a larger ship began to illuminate the speakers face. Pale features and red eyes gazed back at you. The taller figure who was operating the boat spoke. "You're real castle will be a castle in the sky, but for now, you're a princess on a pirate ship." The words on their own made sense, but together they made none.

-

Once one the ship you were told to keep quiet. You were ushered into a simple room with extravagant items decorating the walls. Items crested in gold, mitachurl masks, swords adorned in jade and lapis, and the like. All for which we're impressive, but none provided any means of escape so we're quickly removed from your immediate attention.

"Sorry for the strange introduction, but these things need to be kept under wraps you know?" The sound of the door creaking shut behind you was interrupted by a commanding female voice, shutting off you're previous thoughts and your connection to the outside world. Your eyes saw red once again. From the red of her coat, to her eyes, and even the auburn of her hair kept all your attention.

Red.

The red covered you. It tickled your skin as strands of it cascaded upon you as it fell from her head, trapping you in a cage. Red stained your cheeks and tongue as you gasped for just a moment to catch your breath through the rapid pace. Her greediness, out of all the treasures in the room, centered on you. Consumed by red. Eaten by red. Red lapping at you and bring you to release after release. Red holding you down. Red slamming into you. Ramming in and out of you with little care for how your wails and screams try to touch the outside world. Red building up inside your stomach and releasing itself into the air through your mouth. And when the morning comes she finally names herself.

"Oh right," she said nonchalantly. She posted down at you through her hooded eyes, drowsy with afterglow. She held a warm smile that was wildly out of place. "Most people refer to me as captain, you can just call me Beidou."

She hummed softly when you squeaked when she casually teased a nipple.

-

When you floated on air red caught you once again. "Beidou, what did I tell you about touching things that don't belong to you?" White, gold, and red squinting.

Beidou scoffed. "I'm a pirate. It's my job to touch things that don't belong to me."

Fixing her gaze upon you, she relaxed her demeanor. "Welcome to the Jade Chamber. I am Ningguang."

[tarysu]

here's an angst treat for all my pookies, It's been a while and I thought I should send over a draft I kept for weeks. SOS BECAUSE I WAS STREAMING A SAD SONG WHILE WRITING THIS GRAJJHHAHHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHA tachi my beloved, YE SHORT FIC TOO BY THE WAY BABE TW: ANGST, womp womp womp TEARS

𝐖𝐀𝐒 𝐈𝐓 𝐓𝐑𝐔𝐄 𝐎𝐑 𝐖𝐀𝐒 𝐈𝐓 𝐉𝐔𝐒𝐓 𝐀 𝐒𝐂𝐇𝐄𝐌𝐄? | 𝐓𝐀𝐂𝐇𝐈𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐀 𝐗 𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐄𝐑 !! 𝐀𝐍𝐆𝐒𝐓

✦ ─ ˗ˋ ୨୧ ˊ˗ ─ ✦

The night was still young, the stars sparkling in the clear sky, and the moon hanging high above. Tachihara stood there, running his hands through his jet-black spikes. What was he thinking? His eyes betrayed a sense of sorrow, yet he had resolved to fully dedicate himself to the hunting dogs. Even if it meant severing ties with someone who could potentially interfere with his duties.

He was drawn to her, but he had hoped she'd understand. It took countless nights, days, minutes, and hours for him to finally come to terms with who he truly was. It was a selfish pursuit, driven by the desire to find the one who had killed his brother.

Michizou sat by the dock alone. It wasn't frustration that clouded his mind, but a bluntness, a straightforwardness. This very spot was where he had fallen for her, yet now he was determined to bring it to an end. Though tears wouldn't be shed, the ache in his heart was undeniable at the mere thought of it. hand clenched onto the fabric of his chest, the ticking of time growing louder. Then, from a distance, a soft murmur reached his ears. It was her, with a sweet smile that seemed out of place in the chilly night.

That smile on her face would soon dissolve into countless tears. he just knew it. The weight of guilt pressed upon him, and he turned his head away from the water. Then, he saw her. His amber gaze locked onto her eyes. How fortunate had he become? Her feet tapped on the wooden dock, her breath visible in the dim light of the night. There, she sat beside Michizou.

"Ain't it kinda late to be out? It's cold too," she remarked. Her voice, smooth and with a soft, rhythmic murmur, gently kissed his ears. Before he could utter a word, he felt his own body shutting down, his head automatically finding its place on her shoulder. ..Fuck. He had prepared a whole speech and even backup lines for her reaction, but facing her and telling her was much harder than he thought. Slumped down, legs hanging off the dock, head on her shoulder – it was too warm to let go, too cold to let go.

His heartbeat quickened as "____" fixed her gaze on him. She chuckled, resting her head on top of Michizou's head, her soft hair brushing against his black spikes.

"What's on your mind, Michizou?"

Even by the tone of his voice, michizou's foul and blunt expression wasn't going unnoticed.His breathing remained shallow for she was far too precious to hurt. But he couldn't deny the blow to his pride. With a long sigh, he spoke.

"Some things got my mind fucked up lately." In truth, she was the one fucking up his mind for a long duration of time. lips pressed hard; he simply felt at ease. The breeze brushed against them both, and he sensed a pair of fingers intertwining with his. His cheeks took on a soft hue of red.All he felt was her fingers on his, the two of them. Both still young and reckless, teenagers who had yet to experience the midlife crises.

"Wanna talk 'bout it, Tachi?"

Her hand, warm and soft, still clasped his, but he responded with silence. She just smiled, closing her eyes, laying her head comfortably on top of his.

"Alright then." She kept on talking, as if time stood still. Each word she uttered shattered him, his heart breaking with every passing moment.

"Y'know, we should always go out here at night. Just the two of us."

But there was no "just the two of us." There was no promise, just the knowledge that this would be the last time he'd hold her, kiss her, gaze at her, and love her.Why… just why couldn't he speak? Muted throughout the whole night, dawn still hadn't arrived, and he could barely utter a single word. His amber eyes, wide open, just stared at her. If speaking wouldn't do anything, then actions would speak for him. By actions, he completely cut all contact with her. Phone number, blocked. Photos, all gone. It was a clean break; he was determined to keep moving forward.

"____" was left confused. Every day, she stood by the dock, hoping that maybe he'd come back, answer her, or just tell her what was wrong. But days turned into weeks, weeks into months, and 2 years passed with no contact. Michizou had chosen a different path, fulfilling orders. Now, he stood as the 5th hunting dog, adorned with 2 ear studs and short ginger spikes.

Michizou now stood frozen, his heart stopped as she stood in front of him…

Now, she knew the answer to those 2 years. Before her stood not the boy she had loved, but a man who had chosen a path that made him a stranger in her eyes. those cold nights, she prayed for an answer that would make sense. Was it she who affected him the most? Was it she who hurt him into silence? And now, here it is. In a chilly, harsh way, God has gifted her the answer.

It was he who hurt her. Even a meter distance between them felt cold. Michizou, who left two years ago, only stared at the guilt he left behind.

not a single tear escaped his gaze. For he has chosen his way of life. for "____", it felt like something inside her had finally given way. Michizou, adjusting the brim of his hat to shroud his gaze, strolled past "____" as if her very existence had ceased to hold meaning. His cape swayed gracefully in the breeze. With glazed eyes and a shattered heart, she turned her head to watch him disappear in the sea of crowds.

Their worlds had come to a halt. Duties held him, and he bit his lip, hands clenched into fists. He knew he must never look back, holding back so much to stay in the present, even as his eyes clearly welled with tears under his hat.

She was now just a phase, a beautiful stranger he must keep at a distance.

"I love you.. – were these words not enough?"

[gloomy-kitty]

𝐚 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭'𝐬 𝐚 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐯𝐲 𝐛𝐮𝐫𝐝𝐞𝐧 | 𝐣𝐨𝐬𝐡𝐮𝐚 𝐫𝐨𝐬𝐟𝐢𝐞𝐥𝐝

𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐬𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐧 𝐟𝐢𝐧𝐚𝐥

warnings : ending spoilers

notes :  Yipeee that's the end hope it was worth the wait and I hope you guys liked it. I may or may not write a more definitive ending or maybe I'll let you all suffer and make up your own ending.

Day turned to night and no sign of Joshua but something else had unintentionally distracted you. Edda had gone into labor and given birth. You sat in the room alongside Gav, Mid, Jill, and Torgal. You joined Gav in making silly faces at the baby rocking the baby boy in your arms, "Jill come look how cute he is." You cooed smiling as you turned to her. But she was standing at the window gazing out at the moon Torgal by her side. You noticed she seemed distant but that was too be expected. Turning to the blonde beside you, you spoke, "Your turn Mid." You said gently handing her the baby. Mid laughed in delight as she rocked the baby back and forth. Standing to your feet you walked towards the grey haired girl's side. "They'll be back soon Jill. It'll be okay." You said trying to comfort her. Jill turned to you and nodded, "Right..." She trailed off her gaze never leaving the night's sky. You turned your gaze to the side watching the Metia star glow brightly next to the moon. Placing a hand on Jill's shoulder you tried to comfort her, "Don't worry to much. They're strong." You said before leaving her side. You needed some fresh air so you'd figured you do something for Edda after her exhausting labor, "I'll be back Edda. I'm gonna get you something to eat." You called out flashing her a smile. Edda returned the smile, "Oh that sounds wonderful. Get me the biggest piece of meat you got!" She chimed. You winked at her, "Yes ma'am!" You replied walking out of the room.

~•••~

     "Thank you for cooking somethin' up for Edda at such short notice." You said thanking the cook. "Aw it ain't no problem." The cook said bashfully. Leaving the dining area You held the tray of food as you hummed contently walking down the steps back towards the infirmary. By tomorrow morning Clive, Joshua, and Dion would be back celebrating their victory over Ultima. For now you had had to wait, lost in thought it was the sudden sorrowful howling from Torgal that you stop dead in your tracks. Snapping your attention to the sky, your heart dropped, you saw the Metia stare die out. Then you noticed Orgin was gone—the foreboding crystal was gone but where was Joshua and the others?!

It was then you connected the dots, Metia burning out only meant one thing. Gasping your eyes widened as tears pricked the corners of your eyes, You dropped the tray of food and fell to the ground, "No! No!" You cried out as hot tears fell down your face. Your heart hurt so bad, you could barely breathe as heavy sobs racked through your body. "_____!" Tarja shouted as she saw you fall to the floor rushing to your side. You sobbed barely able to utter a word as Tarja asked if you were feeling ill but she then connected everything m. Jill rushing out of the room, Torgal's howling, Orgin gone, and your sobs. She looked at the sky and saw the once bright red star was now gone. They had died they weren't back. She didn't say anymore instead comforting you as you clung onto her sobbing. Joshua was gone he wouldn't be coming back ever again. You were alone in this world you would never marry nor would you ever be able to see Joshua's comforting smile or feel his warm embrace.

     You wished you had died instead. Perhaps you should of let the world burn that night in the Dominion—letting Dion finish the world off with Bahumet's flames. There was no point in living in a world without Joshua; your heart couldn't bear the pain of losing him again. This time permanently.

And thus did their story end.

⋆⁺｡˚⋆˙‧₊☽ ◯ ☾₊‧˙⋆˚｡⁺⋆

<- previous chapter final alternative ending ->

[erisxdrifter]

Confidence

Hehe... made a lil story where Eris helps Drifter be more confident... I just want them to share some sweet tender moments together, it's what they deserve :]

"Hey, Eris?" Came the Drifter's voice from over the old radio which sat upon the dusty table surface.

  Eris peeked her head up from the volume she was reading, sliding her nimble fingers across the pages and dog earing her place before shutting the book and returning the Drifter's call.

  "It is quiet late, is it not?" She greeted him.

  "Yeah, but I figured you'd still be up."

  "Indeed, I am." Eris replied. "What is it that you want?"

  "For you to come meet me somewhere."

  "Hmm... where?" She asked.

  "It's a surprise. Just meet me at these coordinates I'm sendin' over." He replied, his voice revealing nothing.

  "These coordinates, they are on Earth. Where are you taking me? Why all this secrecy?"

  "Like I said, it's a surprise, Moondust." He replied vaguely. "Meet me there in a few minutes. Trust."

  *  *  *

  "You wished to meet atop a cliffside?" Eris asked bluntly, approaching the dark figure ahead which she ascertained was the Drifter.

  The Moon's light gleamed off his wide toothed grin. "Yeah. Wanted to show you somethin'. C'mon,"

  He reached out and took Eris's hand, his grip tight but not painful, and walked them forward. They were still quiet far from the cliffs edge, but the Drifter made sure to be slow and careful as he guided them over to a large rock portrududing the somewhat clear area.

  "Why did you bring me here?" Eris asked as they sat beside one another on the hard rock. "And what was the purpose of coming so late at night?"

  "That," the Drifter pointed ahead of them, directing Eris's attention to the large glowing sphere which hovered high in the sky.

  The Moon was full and bright, bathing everything it could in it's soft white light, and sending the things that it couldn't into harsh and darkened shadows.

  "You admire it." Eris said, somewhat surprised by the awe reflected in the Drifter's grey eyes.

  "It's beautiful, ain't it?" He asked, looking back at her.

  "I did not take you for one to appreciate nature to such an extent." Eris admitted, her three eyed gaze returning to the Moon. "But yes, it is quiet a marvel."

  "Heh, yeah..."

  The gentle chirping of crickets filled the silence that made up the next few minutes, their shrill song one that Eris happily accepted in that peaceful moment.

  "Why did you wish for me to see this?" Eris asked, finally breaking the silence.

  After a thoughtful moment, the Drifter slowly began to tell her, "This is special to me... seein' the Moon so big and bright like it is tonight. I always come up here when it's like this, watichin' it for hours till the sun starts risin'. And I reckon I wanted to share this moment that's come to mean a lot to me, with someone else who's come to mean a lot to me, too." He looked over at her. "Does that make sense?"

  Eris contemplated his answer, the meaning behind it, the weight of his voice as he told her how much it meant- how much she's come to mean. She looked back at him.

  "Yes. That makes sense."

  "Does this mean anythin' to you?" He asked, hoping Eris hadn't caught the quiver in his voice.

  "On normal circumstances, had I seen this alone, it would be merely a feigning glance. A feeling which would be gone in an instant had it even arisen, a moment that would soon fade from memory and conscience." She studied the curves and dents of the Moon's surface. "But here, with you having shown me this?" She now studied his face. "Yes. It has grown to mean far more to me, than it ever would in any other circumstance, or with any other person."

  She added on the last part, curious of what the Drifter would do with it, how he would interpret the meaning behind the words.

  He squeezed her hand tighter, reminding her that her palm was still against his own, as he tangled their fingers together and cleared his throat.

  He was no longer looking at her, but had returned his eyes to the full bright orb ahead of them, his expression a mix of both joy and apprehension.

  "Why does your countenance reflect tension?" Eris finally asked after a few more minutes of cricket chirping.

  He remained silent. So silent and for so long, Eris wondered if he had decided to ignore her, until finally he said, "you ever have somethin' you wanna tell someone so bad, but you don't know how to say it? And your scared your gonna mess everthin' up with that person cause your so afraid?"

  It was Eris's turn to remain silent for a few long minutes, leaving the Drifter to listen to the sound of crickets.

  "I have found," Eris began eventually. "That the best cure for a situation such as the one you have suggested, is to acknowledge what you wish to speak. Otherwise, you allow that worry to burrow in your mind, letting it to dig deeper and fester longer." She kept her gaze on the Moon as she spoke. "If you trust this person, then speak to them your truth, Germaine. And do not allow your fear to get in the way of your conviction."

  The Drifter no longer looked toward Eris or the Moon, but instead moved to staring down at the cracked rock surface beneath them.

  "If you wish to have this time alone and in silence, I will leave." Eris offered.

  "No, no, stay. Please." The Drifter said, still gripping her hand in his own trembling one. "Just... gimme a minute."

  And that way they sat for some few cricket filled minutes, the Drifter staring down at the rocks, Eris studying the Moon and the way its soft light fell atop everything, glittering against the rocks scattered around.

  Finally the Drifter sighed. "You know why I brought you here, right?"

  "You said earlier that I had come to mean a lot to you." Eris answered.

  "Yeah..." he turned his face towards her. "And I meant what I said. You... you mean more to me than anyone else."

  Eris returned his keen gaze, their eyes locked on one another, daring the other to break the silence that followed with his confession.

  Without a word, Eris freed her hand from the Drifter's clinging grasp. She then grabbed his wrist and lifted both their hands, bringing his shaking fingers to her cheek, watching an expression of astonishment wash over his face. Then she took her hand away, leaving his hovering there, pressed against the eternal tears that flowed down her face.

  The Drifter sucked in a shivering breath and leaned closer to her. Their faces were so close, noses gently touching, until finally the Drifter leaned in a little closer, their lips touching in a soft kiss.

  Eris could tell he was scared, afraid to allow his emotions to guide him after all the pain he had already suffered through in his hundreds of years of living. When he kissed her, it was a nervous kiss, his lips only barely meeting her own, lingering there for a long and unfamiliar moment.

  He pulled away swiftly, taking his face from hers and pointing it away, refusing to meet her eyes or the glow of the Moon. Eris let out a dismal sigh as she stared back at the Moon once again.

  "Why did you do that?" She finally asked.

  "Do what?" He replied.

  "Pull away." She watched him turn his head back toward the Moon, it's light reflecting in his eyes

  "I... I didn't do it right. The kiss." He clarified, clearing his throat.

  After a moment Eris spoke again. "I believe you overthought the moment, Drifter."

  "What d'you mean?" He asked, his voice quiet, shoulders slouched.

  "I did not force you to kiss me, that was an act done solely by you and through your courage. I merely encouraged it when I brought your hand to my face." Eris told him. "You gathered your valor on your own, but allowed it to slip away when we touched, overthinking the way our lips met, and discerning whatever ways you believed you had done inadequately."

  "I don't understand..." The Drifter confessed.

  "You were brave enough to kiss me, and only failed by the end when you pulled away, allowing your nerves and overthinking, to get the better of you- to tell you you had done poorly, when the truth is quiet the opposite." She explained more simply.

  "It didn't feel strange to you?" He asked her.

  "It only felt peculiar when you pulled away in fear." Eris informed him.

  "Huh..."

  "Stop doubting yourself, Germaine. These anxieties will not help you grow, they will only hold you back. And now, if you wish to keep to your thoughts, I will be going." She started to stand until the Drifter reached out with asp-like speed, grabbing her wrist and looking up at her.

  "Please, Eris, stay."

  Eris considered his plea for a moment, noting the way he called her by her true name, not by any nickname.

  She sat beside him once again.

  Another moment of silence later and the Drifter had slid closer to her, their legs touching as he leaned into her.

  Eris watched him with curiosity, her eyes studying his face. He looked less nervous than he had earlier, and Eris spotted a spark of confidence within his grey eyes. He sat there, motionless, letting a few seconds pass them by before he parted the space between them and kissed her again.

  Eris stayed still, letting him kiss her as she noted the way he had come in quicker this time, his touch carrying more confidence. He stayed there, unmoving, letting the sound of crickets chirping pass them by. And just when Eris was sure he'd pull away, he brought his palms to her cheeks and pulled her tear covered face closer.

  Eris would have allowed that moment to continue on for quiet some time had the Drifter kept his face against hers, but eventually he began to slowly pull away, his eyes opening to study Eris's own. Their faces were still close, his hands still holding her cheeks, their eyes searching one another through the moonlight. Then finally, the Drifter's lips began to twitch up in a smile, Eris's doing the same, and in another moment he leaned in and began kissing her again.

  The moment was calm and tranquil, their warmth being shared as their lips unified, the Drifter touching her with a courage that Eris had not felt in him ever before. They were happy.

  They countinued that way, joyously sharing enraptured kisses and growing in their love and tenderness for one another, for a while longer, the Moon remaining bright, sending it's gentle white illuminance down on the two figures sitting atop the rock.

  The Drifter's courage grew thanks to Eris Morn, and they both obtained joy through it, pressing their lips together again and again, relishing in the taste, touch, and warmth through the night.

[werewolfsmile]

With You - Ch 5

The English, Whipplocke (Eli x Cornelia)

Mature Rathing, graphic violence, period-typical racism, post-canon, canon divergent, found family, angst, references to rape

5,126 words

Read it on AO3

There was blood on White Moon's face. Difficult to see in the dim light from the campfire and long since dried but it was there nonetheless. Anger seethed inside of Cornelia and she stared at White Moon, hoping to convey some of her intent through that passionate gaze alone.

He stared back, recognition clear on his face accompanied by concern. Still pacing by the campfire, Mickey kicked a rock and White Moon flinched.

This simply would not do. Cornelia finally tore her gaze away from White Moon and set about examining every inch of the shabby campsite she could lay her eyes on. Staying here and waiting for those men to come back with her money and rape her was entirely out of the question. No, no, she would simply have to escape before then.

The ground was covered in hard rocks, many of them directly beneath her. Cornelia shifted, groping blindly with her hands that were tied behind her back, hoping for one that was sharp enough.

"Oi! What you doin', woman?" snapped Mickey in his voice that was far too youthful for a real outlaw. Just an overgrown child. What unfortunate set of circumstances had led him down this path of wickedness and cruelty?

Focusing back on the task at hand, Cornelia thought quickly.

"Dear Mother and Father," she began. Mickey's face scrunched in confusion. "I apologise for the delay in writing but things in the west have been a tad more complicated than I could foresee."

"Hey! There ain't no one else here! Jus' shut up, you hear?"

"Excuse me, young man, but your manners are simply deplorable," she shot back. Mickey's mouth dropped open. "Now, if you don't mind, I am long overdue in composing a letter to my parents and since I have nothing better to do with my time, I might as well focus on that! Barring any other untimely interruptions, of course."

She cast an imperious and haughty glare at him. Micky could only blink in return, clearly baffled as to what to make of her. Cornelia arched an eyebrow then nodded to herself. Behind her back, her hands kept searching until a sting of pain indicated possible victory.

"Now, where was I? Ah, yes. It seems that I have fallen in with a rather motley group of unemployed travellers. A desperate sort, they seek work wherever they can find it through whatever means at their disposal. Now, I know you must be thinking that they sound a rather dangerous lot. But let me reassure you, they have promised only to violate my person after they have looted all my money. A most generous offer, I am sure you would agree!"

"You are barkin' mad, woman! Now shut up! No one wants to hear you yammerin' on all the time."

"For heaven's sake, young man! Were you raised by dogs? No? If only! Surely even mongrels have better manners than you!"

Mickey stalked up to her, anger on his young face. Cornelia leant back as he approached and tried to ignore the anxious expression from White Moon. This close, she could see the acne that marked Mickey's skin and the softness of his face that had yet to harden into that of a man.

"I think you're forgettin' who's in charge around here, woman. It's me! And I don't wanna hear no more of your stuck up voice. So shut it! Or I'll shut it permanently!" He brandished the rifle, as though it could offer any real threat. Cornelia regarded him coolly, unaffected.

"Forgive my saying so but I was under the impression that the other angry man was in charge. You remember, middle aged, violent? He shot that man dead where he stood."

She gestured to the body lying not three metres from her feet. The body that Mickey had been studiously avoiding in all his manic pacing. Mickey swore now and paced again, but this time his eyes went to the body over and over again.

Cornelia redoubled her efforts. Rock clutched tightly in one hand, she sawed fiercely at the rope binding her wrists.

"Wasn't meant to be like this," Mickey muttered. One hand rose to his mouth and he chewed frenetically on a fingernail till he realised what he was doing and jerked it away. "Just a quick job, in and out. Weren't nobody meant to get hurt! Least of all Benny."

There was vulnerability in Mickey's voice when he spoke of his murdered comrade. Cornelia hesitated, glancing up to see the anguish visible on Mickey's face for barely a moment before it was gone.

"You know, in all the excitement, I never did get the name of the man that killed your friend. Not that I care to be introduced to someone so violent, but it seems right that when someone wishes you harm, you should at least know their name."

She kept sawing and Mickey kept pacing, the rifle lowered towards the ground now.

"Jensen, that's his name." Mickey swore and spat. "Been nothin' but trouble, ever since he took over the group."

"An outlaw gang, is that it?"

"Naw, not at first. We was just runnin' things off the track. Y'know, away from pryin' eyes. But then Jensen … It's been nothin' but killin' and thievin' since him. Not what I signed up for."

The ropes were weakening. Cornelia forced herself to take a deep breath and let it out slowly. Rushing this and screwing it up was the last thing she wanted to do.

"I understand," she said and Mickey scoffed. "No, really, I do! I first came to America several months ago and, oh, I was terribly naive. Had no idea what I was getting myself into. Walked straight into a trap that was going to cost me my life with no visible way out. I thought, that's it! I'm done for! But you know what happened next?" Mickey stared at her and Cornelia smiled. "Magic."

The rope snapped. Adrenaline surged through her veins as she shook her wrists free.

"White Moon, now!"

Mickey's head swung towards White Moon, alarm on his face. White Moon let out a ululating battle cry and Cornelia surged to her feet. She lunged for the rifle, wrestling with Mickey as he cried out and tried to fend her off. They struggled against each other, each fighting for the upper hand until –

Bang! Mickey screamed and fell to the ground.

Cornelia stepped back, aiming the rifle at the young man as she panted in the wake of adrenaline. He writhed, blood staining his lower leg.

"You shot me, you bitch!"

"It is no less than you and the rest of your gang had planned for me," she retorted coldly. "Stop your fussing, it's not mortal. You'll live."

Bending down by Benny's dead corpse, Cornelia pulled his knife free from its sheath. Keeping a sharp eye on Mickey, she crossed the camp to White Moon and crouched behind him. It was a risk to take her eyes off Mickey but she did it all the same, quickly cutting through the bonds on White Moon's wrists. He sighed in relief and took the knife when she offered it.

"What're you gonna do to me?" Mickey asked, his voice trembling as the two of them returned to him. White Moon was a little slower and Cornelia cast her gaze over him again. No visible injuries, other than a swollen, bruised eye and blood on his face. He must be simply stiff from being trapped in that awful position.

"Keep you alive, for now. White Moon, bind his leg."

Cornelia gestured and White Moon nodded back. He had known barely any English when she first met him months ago, and she had no idea if that had changed since then. Still, he seemed to understand her well enough. He tore a strip of cloth from Benny's body and tied it tightly around Mickey's wounded leg.

Next, they tied Mickey to a stake in the ground. Cornelia ensured there were no weapons hidden on his person, nor sharp rocks around. Then she bound his ankles, for good measure. He moaned and whimpered, playing the pathetic victim until she could stand it no longer and gagged him.

Only then did she turn to White Moon, concern swarming through her.

"Oh, White Moon!" Cornelia ran gentle fingers over his bruised face but he smiled up at her.

"Is okay," he said in a halting, uncertain voice. Cornelia could not help it; she hugged him tightly and felt a surge of relief when he hugged her back.

"We need to be smart about this. It would be simple to cut our losses and run, but I don't fancy the idea of having these men at our back. Besides, I want my horse – and my money. So, it's decided then. We'll stay and ambush them in return."

White Moon stared at her blankly, clearly not comprehending her ramblings. Cornelia smiled and laid a gentle hand on his cheek before getting to work.

It did not take long to find all the weapons left in the camp. Less time again for White Moon to understand her intent and set to work. In a little over an hour, they had the entire campsite booby trapped. Mickey was still tightly trussed up and his wound had stopped bleeding. Satisfied, Cornelia settled on a ridge overlooking the campsite, while White Moon hid behind a cluster of rocks.

The nerves began to set in as they sat and waited. What if Jensen and his men suspected the trap? What if they took all night to return? What if Mickey died of the wound? Or even worse, what if White Moon got killed? He was just a boy, she should be protecting him from this violence, not directly involving him!

Can't let it infect. Up here neither.

Cornelia forced all those doubts from her mind. The memory of Eli's words fortified her and she clutched at the osprey skull in its pouch. He was right; thinking like that wouldn't change anything. She had to stay focused, keep her eyes on the task at hand. The magic had brought her this far. It would not abandon her now.

The hours dragged on. Cornelia watched the stars slowly turning overhead, her eyes drifting to the scorpion and the wolf. Soon, she promised herself. Soon she would lie beneath the sky with Eli and share stories of the stars.

Finally, she sensed a change in the landscape. A faint tremor through the ground – hoofbeats. She shifted position, glancing down to see White Moon looking up to her. They nodded to each other and readied themselves.

Jensen was the first to come into view, closely flanked by two others. Three more rode behind them, with the central man leading Cornelia's horse. Heart racing in her chest and palms sweating in her gloves, Cornelia gave the nod.

White Moon pulled the rip cord. A cacophony of gunshots rang out. Men shouted and screamed and fell, horses neighing in panic. Adrenaline spiked in Cornelia's veins. It had worked! She hadn't been sure, it had taken so much time to set up so many rifles. But this! This was glorious!

"Over there!" Jensen shouted as he picked himself off the ground and pointed towards White Moon's hiding place. Remembering herself, Cornelia whipped up her own rifle, sighted, and fired.

The bullet tore through Jensen's gut and he collapsed to his knees, clutching the wound desperately. White Moon seized the opportunity to run, tipping over a lantern as he went.

Flames whooshed towards the sky as they ignited the oil that had been carefully spilt upon the ground. The last men – only three of them now – shouted and pointed but could only fire blindly through the smoke. Cornelia took her time, remembering to breathe as she ratcheted another bullet and squeezed the trigger.

Another man fell. Only two left. The flames had reached behind the horses now, cutting off their escape. White Moon howled a battle cry and threw an axe. It sank deep into one man's throat and he clutched at it, hands tugging uselessly as he crumpled in the dust.

The last one was sharp. His eyes turned up towards Cornelia's high vantage point and he fired. She ducked, breathless as the bullet skimmed just over her head.

White Moon howled again. Cornelia's heart leapt to her throat. Heedless of her own safety, she surged back up to stare down at it all below. Her rifle aimed at the last man but she hesitated, mouth dry. White Moon had jumped the line of fire and he tackled the man, stabbing wildly with a dagger.

"No, no. Get out of there!" Cornelia gasped.

The man fought back. A harsh blow to the side of the head knocked White Moon to the ground, dazing him. The man kicked him then snatched the blade from his hands. He seized a fistful of White Moon's hair, dragging him up as he brandished the dagger.

Cornelia fired again. The man cried out and let go – winged. She swore and hurried to reload but White Moon was already moving. Tearing his dagger from the man's hands, White Moon lunged up. The blade sank deep and the man went slack, falling lifelessly to the ground.

Cornelia scrambled out of her hiding place. The descent was steep but she paid it little heed, half-running, half-skidding down the slope. The flames were already beginning to die down and White Moon stepped out from them, battered but alive.

Jensen groaned. Cornelia lifted her gun, all her rage and vengeance coming back to her in an instant. His hands were soaked in blood as he tried to hold himself together, a faint crimson tinge flecking his lips. She lowered her gun; it would be over soon.

"You … you bitch," Jensen wheezed, his lungs whistling.

"I told you. Should have simply held me at gun point." Cornelia tilted her head to the side. "I knew I would kill you from the moment you mocked me." ??

It was gruesome work, watching a man die. But Cornelia had endured far more gruesome things in her life. In comparison, this was vindication. When Jensen finally lay still on the blood-soaked ground and the light had gone out in his eyes, she let out a deep breath and turned away.

"Cornelia." She looked up to see White Moon standing over Mickey. "What do with him?"

Slinging the rifle onto her back, she strode over. Mickey stared up at them, eyes wide in terror. To leave him alive was a liability and possibly a slow death. Killing him here would be much cleaner. And yet …

Cornelia thought back to the Pawnee man that Eli had failed to shoot. What might have become of that man if Cornelia had not stepped into that space? If she never lifted the bow?

Perhaps Eli was right and that man had already been dead. But Mickey was young and Cornelia was tired of watching young men's stories get cut short.

"Leave him. Put a knife near him when we go. If he wants to live, he'll have to fight for it."

~*~

They moved on as soon as Eli was strong enough to stand. It wasn't safe to linger near so many bodies for the sake of wild animals alone, never mind the risk of other people coming upon them. So they scavenged everything of worth from the bodies, loaded up their horses, and left.

Red Feather had done an excellent job of tending to his wounds. The graze on his neck was deep and would certainly scar, but was already healing without the need of stitches. The bullet hole through his left shoulder was another matter entirely. Red Feather's poultices had thoroughly cleaned it but it needed stitches.

That first night after they moved camps, Eli helped talk Red Feather through crafting a needle out of bone. They had few options for thread but they had the horses. It was simple enough for Red Feather to cut some strands of tail hair and boil them before threading through the bone needle.

Eli gave no complaint as she stabbed deeper than she needed, or pulled a little too hard. She was just a child and she had never stitched a wound before. He suppressed all his reactions and spoke only encouragement.

They found shelter in a rocky grove off the beaten track. Water was scarce but there were thick, stubborn scrubby plants growing in the grove. They provided suitable shade, so Eli and Red Feather settled in for a few days. Eli needed time to recover before they pushed on harder. The risk of infection aside, he could barely lift his left arm. If they encountered anyone else wanting to kill them, Eli would hardly be able to fight.

Red Feather flicked twigs at the campfire that evening, her eyes lost deep in thought. Eli tried not to think about how far they still had to travel. Would Cornelia even be there by the time they reached Nebraska? What if she had gone somewhere else in search of him?

"Tell me about Cornelia."

Eli's head jerked up. Red Feather's serious gaze met his across the campfire, unwavering in her intensity.

"Why?" he asked and Red Feather rolled her eyes.

"I know you're thinkin' about her. And there's nothin' else to do here."

Fair enough. Eli let his eyes drift to the flames as he marshalled his thoughts. How could he sum up the magic and power of that woman in a way Red Feather would understand?

"Cornelia's unlike any person you ever met. She got no clue how the west works and almost got herself killed more times than you would believe. But she never let that stop her. She just keeps goin'. Somehow it works. She believes in magic. Was convinced that we were meant to meet, that all these dark things in our lives had a purpose. I didn't agree with that."

He wanted to, despite the stubborn, pragmatic part of him that had seen so much death and horror and destruction. Eli wanted to throw his sensibilities into the wind and race on magic, just like Cornelia had done.

She had to be right. How could it be anything but magic? After all she had survived and the distances she had travelled, how could Eli ever doubt her magic?

"How did you meet?" Red Feather shifted to lie on her belly, chin propped on her hands and feet kicked up behind her. Such an innocent, carefree position. Eli's heart warmed to see her so relaxed.

"Tried to save my life. Almost lost her own in the process but … Somehow we survived. From there, well." He shrugged. "Ain't no real reason for why I said yes. Maybe it was magic. Either way, I agreed to take her north. So we went."

"Eli, you tell the worst stories," Red Feather declared dramatically and flopped her head into the dirt. He stared at her, taken aback.

"What else do you want from me?" he asked and she groaned.

"You told me what happens without proper tellin' anything! Try again!"

He could not help the smile that curved one corner of his mouth. Cornelia had been similar, coaxing the finer details out of him in that endlessly curious way of hers. Red Feather was far more direct but it was enough for his heart to pang in longing.

So Eli spoke again. He filled in the details, even though it felt strange to reveal so much of himself after so many years guarding everything. And Red Feather listened, entranced by the stories of the white woman who had travelled without fear to avenge her son.

Sleep came easier to Eli that night. To speak of Cornelia in such a way left him feeling lighter than he had expected. He had not realised just how badly he had needed to speak of her, to share that part of himself with someone.

He drifted off under the light of the stars, chest full of a comfortable hope that he had not felt in a long time. He dreamt of Cornelia – dreamt of seeing her in the village of his birth, surrounded by family members that had long since walked the Path of the Dead. She smiled at him and held out her hand – but he could not see it clearly. The image was blurred and when he tried to focus, it slipped away into a kaleidoscope of grassy plains, bloodied bodies and howling wolves.

Eli woke abruptly with sweat on his brow. His gut twisted and all sense of easy hope was gone. What did such dreams mean? If only he could go to a kúrahus! He dragged a hand across his face – then realised it was not his dreams that had woken him.

Red Feather whimpered on the other side of the smouldering campfire. She twitched and thrashed, limbs flailing drunkenly. Eli propped himself up a little, wondering if it was wise to wake her. But then she screamed. Her spine arched and her cries wailed loudly, so pitiful and heartbroken that he could not have stopped himself if he tried.

Throwing back his blanket, Eli hurried to her. He caught her flailing arms with his hands, hushing her quietly.

"It's alright, Red Feather. It's alright. Wake up."

She struggled harder, brow pinching tightly against her nightmares. Eli stroked her hair back from her face, not even noticing when he slipped into his native language.

"Awi'uusik, čuú'at. Awi'uusik."

Red Feather jolted awake suddenly. Eyes wide and breaths heaving her chest, she screamed and yanked away from him, kicking madly.

"Red Feather!" Eli said loudly and her eyes snapped to him. He watched cognizance filter back in before she sagged, shaking from the terror of it all. Eli reached out, hands hovering over her in a gentle request as he spoke. "You're safe. Just a nightmare. It's over."

Her face crumpled as emotions took over. A wail escaped her, following by a shuddering sob. Eli opened his mouth to speak again – but she moved too fast. Red Feather threw herself into his arms, howling between her wrenching sobs. Small fists dug into his back and pulled at his clothes. Her head bumped his as she cried, voice so loud his ears rang.

He did not care. She was all that mattered. Eli curled his arms around her, whispering softly in Pawnee. He rocked her and soothed her, trailing fingers through her tangled hair. His neck ached and his shoulder throbbed in agony but it barely registered.

Red Feather was so strong and independent, it was easy to forget just how young and fragile she was. Eli was reminded now, as she curled into an anguished ball in his lap. So small and so light. Her scent still carrying that edge of childhood. Grief filled him and he held her tighter.

No child should have to suffer like this.

"I-I saw him. I saw him!" she wailed in between sobs and hiccups. She shook so viscerally that Eli felt it in his bones. "I saw the, the blood, the …"

Eli hushed her as words failed her. Red Feather screamed and cried, inconsolable for what felt like hours. He held her through it all, letting her small body purge the emotions that had been building like a storm for weeks. He rocked her, whispering Pawnee lullabies in her ears.

Red Feather cried herself out at length. Her sounds of anguish dwindled, her grip loosening until she was slack and limp, an exhausted bundle in his lap. Eli carried her back to his bedroll and lay down with her head on his chest.

He used to do this with his own children when they could not sleep. Lying by the fire with an ear pressed over his heart, the sound of his heartbeat and breathing would eventually lull them back to sleep. It worked the same way now – Red Feather's breathing evened out and her body finally calmed that little bit further. Eli kept stroking her hair, humming under his breath as he stared into the embers of the fire.

There was no point in trying to go back to sleep himself. He was too unsettled, mind still troubled from his own dreams and body wide awake. So he carefully tossed another branch on the fire and watched the stars slowly turning above him.

If wishes were where we would be, then we would be where we are not.

The cold months would be upon them soon. Eli could see it in the tilt of the sky and smell it on the air. His thoughts drifted back to Cornelia – as they always did – and worry gnawed at his gut.

She had not experienced winter on the plains. She would have no idea of the danger, the multitude of risks. If Eli could not find her before the first snowfall, what hope would she have? The thought of her lost in a blizzard, calling for him and slowly freezing to death, lodged in his mind and chilled his heart.

No. He could not think like that! Cornelia was smart, for all her recklessness. She would understand the dangers, surely. She would take up residence in some town for the winter. Yes, surely that was it. He need not worry, Cornelia had survived too much to foolishly throw what was left of her life away.

Thoughts of the posters she had commissioned flashed through his mind but he pushed them aside. No point in thinking about something that would only make him angry. There would be time enough for that later.

Eli glanced down at Red Feather. He had endured many cold winters as a soldier. He knew how to survive under the harsh elements. But with a young daughter in tow?

Perhaps it would be wise for them to find somewhere to stay for the winter, as well. Travel would only get harder when the snow came, not to mention the risk of sickness.

Eli jerked his head away; no, he couldn't bear to think of it! After losing so many children to fevers, the thought of Red Feather suffering the same terrified him.

He never should have taken her with him, he should have found somewhere else for her to go! Bearing the responsibility of her life in his hands was a fool's game. Her blood would taint him sooner or later, he knew that. He never should have claimed her as his daughter.

Ah, but such thoughts only sought to protect himself, did they not? Eli let out a heavy breath and glanced down at Red Feather. No. He did not regret claiming her, no matter what his doubts and fears said. He cared for her, and would carry her in his heart from now till the beyond.

No matter what became of her.

The sun rose slowly that morning. Eli watched its light creep across the land, until it bathed him and Red Feather. She stirred soon after, movements sluggish and eyes still puffy from the night before. Eli said nothing as she pulled away from him and wandered to the edge of the camp.

She went to the horses. They nosed at her hands and she stroked their muzzles then pulled out the grooming brush. She tended to her own horse, a dark bay gelding with a crooked stripe down his face.

Letting her have her space, Eli turned to his own morning rituals. He cleaned himself up as best he could without wasting too much water, then changed his clothes. The ones Red Feather had cried on would need to be washed. Best that they aim to find a creek or a spring today.

Red Feather came back as Eli pulled out some dried meat for a light breakfast. She sat on the edge of his bedroll – close, but not touching – and accepted when he offered her some food. They ate in silence and Eli let the silence stretch, knowing she would speak when she was ready.

"I dreamt about that man," Red Feather finally said, her voice scratchy. Eli took a moment to swallow his mouthful and studied her face.

"The one you killed."

She flinched but nodded. Eli hummed and chewed on another strip.

"I keep … seein' him. Over and over. No face, just … blood and bone." She shuddered, the dried meat in her hand forgotten. Eli turned a little and waited until Red Feather met his gaze.

"You did what you had to do," he said, voice heavy with the weight of how serious he was. She sniffed, lower lip wobbling.

"But it's like you said. I almost killed you. Didn't wanna do that. Didn't wanna kill him, either, but he was there and I was so scared …" She broke off, eyes turning out to the horizon as she fought against tears.

Eli dared to reach out a hand in offering. A beat passed between them, then Red Feather clutched his hand, her small fingers curling tightly around his palm.

"I don't blame you for that. Can't change it, it's done. And when I said those things …" He sighed. "Maybe I was too hard on you. Ain't no time but a moment to make those choices. You killed him. We both lived – thanks to you."

"But now he's hauntin' me. I can't sleep without seein' him." Her hand trembled in his grasp.

"You will. One day. Till then, just remember. You did what you had to do. Ain't no way of changin' the past. Gotta find a way to move forward."

"How?"

"Keep livin'. Dunno. Some days I'm still tryin' to do the same, myself."

Red Feather shuffled closer to him until she was pressed against his side. She kept his hand held tightly in her own, tracing over the callouses on his skin.

"D'you think Cornelia will want me?" Her voice was so soft and fragile, tentative. Yet the words resonated loud within him and Eli felt himself reeling at the unexpected mention of her.

"Cornelia's a woman with a lot of love to give. I never saw a limit to it. Almost cost her life, time and again. So I say yes, she'll want you. And if she doesn't? She'll learn to. You belong with me, čuú'at. Not even Cornelia gonna change that."

Red Feather sniffled and turned to bury her face in his chest. Eli wrapped an arm around her, and almost missed the muffled words she spoke into his jacket.

"Biixoo3é3en, neisonoo."

Eli did not need to understand the words; he felt their meaning in his soul. He held her tighter.

"Tâtačiksta, čuú'at."

[enjomo-arch]

@deadn30n , yone asked : “Let’s not talk about this ever again.” ( yone to ace IF U WANT but i am CACKLING i had to )

the  morning  glimmer  of  the  sun  spilled  through  the  curtains,  casting  a  warm  glow  across  the  room.  ace  groaned  with  sleep  and  exhaustion  lingering  over  hazel  spheres,  slowly  regaining  consciousness.  a  single  blink  attempting  to  wash  away  the  remnants  of  sleep.  the  soft  rays  kissing  tanned  flesh  of  his  back  ——  bringing  the  colors  of  ink  into  a  lively  cavanas  displayed  across  the  length  of  a  thick  spine  to  life.  the  sheets  delicate  against  his  skin,  different  from  the  ones  he's  used  to  sleeping  in  within  the  calmness  of  his  own  apartment.  only  then  the  events  of  a  night  before  getting  back  to  him,  as  he  wasn't  alone  when  the  blurred  image  of  the  music  producer  slowly  started  to  form  within  his  eyes.

the  gaze  lingered  on  yone's  long,  flowing  white  hair  shimmering  with  an  opalescent  glow  as  they  caught  the  sunlight  dropping  between  cracks  of  the  curtains.  the  color  akin  to  the  gentle  luminescence  of  a  hidden  moon  casting  its  subtle  radiance.  he  finds  himself  drawn  to  a  series  of  red  strings  of  hair  interwoven  with  the  snow  —  white  threads.  like  ruby  crystals  spread  over  the  silk  of  a  king's  bed.  ace  couldn't  help  but  be  captivated  by  the  sight  for  a  good  moment.  never  realizing  how  long  the  music  producer's  hair  looked  when  it  wasn't  tied  into  a  high  ponytail  during  the  day.

only  when  the  man  turned  slightly,  sensing  ace's  wakefulness  the  gym  owner  could  read  words  scattered  over  his  expression.  ones  that  did  not  dare  to  escape  by  voice  yet.  ——  the  air  in  the  room  suddenly  felt  charged  with  an  unspoken  tension.  ace  slowly  pulled  his  body  into  a  sitting  position  before  hearing  the  producer's  voice  with  a  tone  of  awkwardness,  maybe  even  distress  breaking  the  silence  in  the  room.

ace,  with  his  trademark  grin  stretched  strong  arms.  as  if  the  whole  night  was  no  big  deal  to  him.  maybe  it  wasn't  and  it  wouldn't  be  until  news  spread  to  the  public  by  any  source,  or  the  band  members  suddenly  would  choose  the  worst  moment  to  bother  the  man  by  entering  the  bedroom.  ❝  don't  worry.  i  ain't  gonna.  i'll  get  my  things  and  leave  before  your  friends  wake  up.  ❞  despite  the  obvious  tension  and  awkwardness  ace  could  only  offer  yone  a  warm,  weak  smile  to  wash  the  heavy  atmosphere  just  a  little.  ——  he  didn't  want  him  to  get  in  trouble  or  have  any  problems  with  his  job  because  of  him.  none  of  them  wanted  that  in  this  kind  of  business.  his  legs  finally  dropping  the  sheets  off  as  he  placed  bare  feet  on  the  cold  floor  under  him.  sitting  at  the  edge,  tilting  his  head  with  a  soft  crack  coming  from  his  neck.  ——  ❝  y'know  where  to  find  me.  ❞  the  ravenette  spoke  almost  too  quietly  giving  his  usual  loud  personality.

[leffee]

In the dimly lit room of an old Victorian mansion, Vinnie sat alone, bathed in the soft glow of candlelight. His thoughts, as always, were a maelstrom of guilt and longing. For Vinnie was not like other men; he was a vampire.

It had been centuries since he first tasted the bitter sweetness of immortality. At first, the allure of eternal life had seemed like a gift beyond measure. But as the years stretched into millennia, Vinnie came to realize the true weight of his existence.

He had seen empires rise and fall, lovers come and go like fleeting shadows in the night. Each passing century deepened the chasm between him and humanity. He had tried to blend in, to live among mortals, but the burden of his hunger, his insatiable thirst for blood, grew heavier with every passing year.

Tonight, as he sat in solitude, memories of his past torments flooded his mind. The faces of those he had loved and lost haunted him like ghosts. His heart, though undead, ached with a longing for connection, for a sense of belonging that forever eluded him.

Vinnie rose from his seat and approached the ornate mirror that hung on the wall. His gaze fixed on the mirror's surface, but instead of his reflection, there was only emptiness—a void where his image should have been.

"I am cursed," he whispered to the empty mirror, his voice barely audible in the silence of the room. "Cursed to wander this world alone, to feed on the very lifeblood of those I once cherished."

He turned away from the mirror, unable to bear the sight of his own emptiness any longer. Outside, the moon cast its silver light over the mansion grounds, casting long shadows that seemed to dance in mockery of his plight.

As Vinnie walked through the halls of his ancient home, he knew that he could never escape the burden of his existence. For as long as he walked this earth, he would carry the weight of his vampiric nature—a creature of darkness, forever yearning for the light that had long since faded from his grasp.

-This idea came from an ask that you answered and I liked the idea I hope you liked it I Googled different words to add lol

Now this, this is masterfully written, words googled or not. I am so serious, this is so well written.

Just Vinnie the vampire living amongst mortals, they ain't got no idea. Ah, the curse of immortality. I do wonder then, does the rest of the main 7 are also just mortals and maybe died so long ago that Vinnie perhaps unwillingly does not really remember them? Even if not, that definitely is something to think about. Mmmm then again, how wouldn't they know something's wrong, like my man barely ages! And you know, he also drinks blood and avoids the sunlight and stuff, so it'd be hard to be close to anyone, huh?

Ah yes, Vinnie - the creature of darkness. Man, that sounds so unserious, now, Vincent that sounds better but Vinnie sounds just silly hehe. Yes, I truly do love vampire Vinnie, I'd love to see more of him.

[enchantedquill-40]

Part 2 As the days passed, Sawyer's condition remained precarious. Despite Jack's efforts to treat the infection, Sawyer's fever spiked, leaving him delirious and mumbling incoherently. Concern deepened among the survivors, and Jack couldn't ignore the gravity of the situation.

Late one night, as the camp slept under the eerie glow of the moon, Jack was alerted by the sound of distressed mumbling emanating from Sawyer's tent. Jack hurriedly made his way to Sawyer, his medical instincts kicking in.

Entering the tent, Jack found Sawyer thrashing in his makeshift bed, beads of sweat forming on his forehead. His eyes darted around as if haunted by unseen demons, and the words tumbling from his lips were fragmented and disjointed.

"Ben... torture... can't escape..." Sawyer's delirious mutterings sent a chill down Jack's spine. The name "Ben" resonated with a dark history on the island – the enigmatic figure who had instilled fear and manipulation among the survivors.

Jack's mind raced as he observed Sawyer's distressed state. The revelation of Sawyer's tortured mutterings hinted at a deeper trauma, one that extended beyond physical injuries. It was as if Sawyer was reliving a haunting memory, and Jack couldn't shake the feeling that Ben, the shadowy presence of the island, was at the center of it.

As Jack tended to Sawyer, trying to bring down his fever, he pondered the possibility that Sawyer's injuries weren't just a result of a chance encounter with the island's dangers. There was an underlying fear, a trauma that had surfaced in the fevered whispers of a tortured soul.

The next morning, Jack gathered Kate and Charlie to discuss Sawyer's condition. "His fever is persisting, and his delirium is concerning. He kept mumbling about Ben and torture," Jack explained, his expression grave.

Kate's eyes widened in realization. "Ben? The same Ben who was on the island before us? What does Sawyer have to do with him?"

Jack sighed, his mind racing with the implications. "I don't know, but whatever happened with Ben seems to be haunting him. We need to find a way to get through to him, help him confront whatever demons are tormenting him."

Charlie nodded, his brows furrowed with worry. "If Ben is involved, it could mean Sawyer has a history with him, something that's been eating at him. We can't let him suffer in silence."

The trio devised a plan to gently approach Sawyer about his cryptic mutterings, hoping to coax him into sharing the details of his past. As they entered Sawyer's tent, he was lying still, his gaze fixed on some distant point. The haunted look in his eyes didn't escape Jack's notice.

"Sawyer, we need to talk," Jack began, his tone gentle yet firm. "Your fever is persisting, and you mentioned something about Ben and torture. What happened, Sawyer?"

Sawyer's eyes flickered with a mix of fear and defiance. He hesitated, as if grappling with the decision to reveal a painful truth. "Ain't nothin' you need to know, Doc. It's in the past," he muttered, his voice strained.

Jack exchanged a knowing glance with Kate and Charlie, understanding that this was a delicate moment. "Sawyer, whatever happened, it's affecting your health now. We're here to help, not judge. You don't have to face it alone," Jack insisted, his words carrying a sincerity that had earned him the trust of the survivors.

Sawyer's gaze dropped, and for a moment, it seemed like he might open up. However, the walls around him remained intact. "I ain't lookin' for your help, Doc. Just let me be," he whispered, a vulnerability seeping through his gruff exterior.

Jack respected Sawyer's boundaries but knew they couldn't let him suffer in silence. "We'll be here whenever you're ready to talk, Sawyer. You're not alone in this," Jack said, and with that, they left the tent, leaving Sawyer to grapple with the ghosts of his past.

As the days passed, Sawyer's fever fluctuated, and his moments of lucidity were fleeting. Jack continued his efforts to treat the physical symptoms while grappling with the realization that Sawyer's torment ran deeper than any physical injury.

One evening, as the camp settled into a tense calm, Sawyer's fever spiked once again. This time, his delirium took a more intense turn. He thrashed in his tent, his voice rising in distress as he vividly recounted memories of captivity and torture.

Jack, Kate, and Charlie rushed to Sawyer's side, witnessing the unraveling of his tortured memories. The mention of Ben's name became more prominent, and it was clear that Sawyer was reliving a traumatic chapter of his life.

"He kept saying Ben had him, tortured him. What the hell does that mean?" Charlie muttered, his eyes wide with disbelief.

Jack's mind raced, connecting the dots between Sawyer's fevered ramblings and the mysterious figure of Ben. "It seems Sawyer has a history with Ben, and it's haunting him. We need to help him confront these memories and find a way to ease his suffering."

The trio remained by Sawyer's side, offering what comfort they could as he battled the demons of his past. The island's mysteries were vast and unsettling, and Sawyer's revelation added another layer to the enigma they were collectively unraveling.

As Sawyer's fever began to subside, leaving him exhausted and spent, Jack couldn't shake the weight of responsibility. It was clear that the island's history, intertwined with the traumatic experiences of its inhabitants, held a profound impact on their present struggles.

In the days that followed, Sawyer's recovery became a shared mission. The survivors rallied around him, providing support and understanding as he grappled with the aftermath of his traumatic memories. Jack, Kate, and Charlie took turns checking on him, ensuring that he felt a sense of belonging in their makeshift community.

The island, with its mysterious past and present challenges, had forced Sawyer to confront the shadows of his history. As the survivors navigated the complexities of their shared journey, they discovered that unity and compassion were their greatest allies against the unforgiving forces of the island and the haunting echoes of their own vulnerabilities. As the sun dipped below the horizon, casting long shadows through the dense foliage, Jack couldn't shake the unsettling feeling that the island held more secrets than they could fathom. The revelation of Sawyer's tortured memories, intertwined with the name "Ben," lingered in the air like a haunting melody. Determined to uncover the truth, Jack decided to venture deeper into the island, following a trail of unsettling clues.

Guided by a gut feeling, Jack navigated the dense vegetation until he stumbled upon a secluded area. There, amidst the eerie silence of the jungle, he saw a figure lurking in the shadows. As Jack approached, his eyes widened in recognition – it was Ben, the enigmatic and seemingly malevolent presence that had haunted Sawyer's fevered dreams.

Ben's eyes met Jack's, and an unsettling smirk played on his lips. "Well, well, the good doctor himself. What brings you to my humble abode?" Ben's voice oozed with a calculated charm, belying the malevolence that lay beneath.

Jack's jaw tightened, his instincts telling him that this encounter was anything but coincidental. "What do you want with Sawyer? What did you do to him?" Jack demanded, his tone edged with a mix of anger and concern.

Ben's smirk widened, as if reveling in the chaos he had caused. "Ah, Sawyer. Such an interesting history he and I share. A bit of a tortured past, you could say," Ben replied cryptically, his eyes never leaving Jack's.

Jack felt a surge of frustration. "You're not answering my question. What did you do to him? Why is he haunted by memories of torture?" Jack pressed, his patience wearing thin.

Ben chuckled, a sound that sent shivers down Jack's spine. "You see, Doctor Shephard, the island has a way of bringing out the best and worst in people. Sawyer's past caught up with him, and I was merely a facilitator of his journey of self-discovery," Ben explained, his words laced with an unsettling mix of candor and malevolence.

Jack's eyes narrowed. "Facilitator? You tortured him, and now he's reliving those horrors. What kind of sick game are you playing?" Jack retorted, his anger flaring.

Ben's expression remained eerily calm. "It's not a game, Jack. It's the island's way of revealing truths. Some are strong enough to face their demons; others succumb to the weight of their past. Sawyer's journey is far from over," Ben replied, his eyes gleaming with an unsettling certainty.

As Jack grappled with the cryptic words, a sudden realization hit him – Ben's presence was not a mere coincidence. He had orchestrated Sawyer's torment, exploiting the vulnerabilities of the island's inhabitants for reasons known only to him.

Back at the camp, Sawyer's condition had worsened. The memories of torture continued to haunt him, and the fragile stability that the survivors had built was threatened by the malevolent force that lurked in the shadows.

Kate, sensing the urgency of the situation, took matters into her own hands. Armed with determination and a fierce protectiveness over Sawyer, she ventured into the jungle, following the path that Jack had taken. The echoes of Ben's unsettling presence lingered in the air as she approached the secluded area.

There, she witnessed the confrontation between Jack and Ben. The tension hung thick in the air as Kate's eyes darted between the two men. Ben's evil smirk sent a shiver down her spine, and her gaze hardened with resolve.

"You're the one tormenting Sawyer. You think you can manipulate us, control our fears? Not anymore," Kate declared, her voice steady despite the underlying anger.

Ben's eyes flickered with amusement. "Ah, Kate Austen, always the one to challenge authority. You can't escape the island's influence, my dear. Embrace the inevitable," he taunted, his words a sinister echo in the night.

Without hesitation, Kate raised her gun, her finger poised on the trigger. The air crackled with tension as she stared down the embodiment of their collective fears. "Whatever twisted games you're playing end now. Sawyer deserves better than your torment," Kate declared, her resolve unwavering.

Ben's smirk faltered for a moment, replaced by a glint of something resembling surprise. "You won't shoot me. You're not a killer," he asserted, his confidence unshaken.

In response, Kate's gaze hardened. Without a word, she pulled the trigger, and the gunshot echoed through the jungle. Time seemed to freeze as Ben's eyes widened, registering the sudden turn of events.

The bullet found its mark, and Ben staggered backward, a look of shock and pain contorting his features. The malevolent force that had manipulated and tormented the survivors crumbled before them. As Ben fell to the ground, the weight of his influence lifted, and a collective breath was released.

Jack, who had witnessed the decisive moment, approached Kate with a mixture of astonishment and gratitude. "You did what needed to be done," he acknowledged, a sense of relief washing over him.

Kate's gaze remained fixed on Ben's fallen form. "He won't be tormenting anyone else," she stated, her voice carrying a mix of determination and weariness.

As the survivors regrouped, the realization that they had faced and overcome a force that sought to exploit their deepest fears brought a newfound unity among them. Sawyer, though still haunted by his memories, found solace in the collective strength of the survivors who had stood against the malevolent presence of Ben.

The island, with its mysteries and challenges, had revealed both the darkness within and the resilience of those who faced it. As the survivors gathered around their campfire, the echoes of their shared ordeal lingered, but there was a renewed sense of solidarity and defiance. In the heart of the enigmatic island, they discovered not only the shadows of their past but the strength to confront them together.

[beastbitten]

"It ain't somethin' I can easily forget..." Ethan nodded as if reluctantly, his aching bones and sense of dread not letting him forget that the full moon wasn't far away. "Y... you sure? I don't... I jus' don't want you gettin' hurt 'cause of me." He trusted her -- - but that didn't mean he trusted himself, or rather, his wolf.

"Sounds nice... maybe grab a couple blankets, sit on the front porch with our hot chocolates 'n' Tom'll come right on up. He'll probably try 'n' cuddle with you, s... so, just be aware of that." He chuckled to himself, pretending as though that didn't happen all the time.

"But yeah... Scratch Watson? I... I think I like the sound of that." He gazed down at her in awe, still amazed that she could ever see anything in him, let alone someone she could love. But who was he to judge? He didn't want to let go for a single second. "Jus' need to get you a ring next. I, uh... I gotta warn you, it won't be nothin' fancy. I... I don't got a whole lot of money."

"Of course I'd do that for you. Actually, tomorrow is a good test run. It's a full moon tomorrow night." She leans more into his gentle kiss. She tugs him down a little further to press another kiss to his lips.

"You are worth more than you think you do. I will remind you every day. I will show you every day." Her fingers trail along down his spine. "How about we have a nice little night in. Tom can even join us. And I always wanted to try hot chocolate."

She leans her head up to look at him. "What do you think? Oh.. One thing.. When we get to it. I want to take your last name. I don't really have one.."