#I HOPE HE WINS TOO. gorgeous little human creature really

[hansols-yoda-boxers]

Oct 14th [Seungmin + Tentacles]

[9:56] It wasn’t the first time you’d heard it, that stunningly beautiful song that drifted on the breeze. The first time you were sailing by in the evening, almost crashing into the rocks and just barely coming to your senses in time. The song stopped so suddenly you just barely had enough time.

The next time you found yourself further away, sure you could hear the song on the breeze. Something deep in the pit of your stomach was pulling you towards it but you managed to steer away, moving out of earshot of the song. No matter how badly you wanted to hear it you knew it could only be bad news.

But tonight, as you walked along the rocky shore with the sun setting you heard it again. A beautiful melody from a gorgeous lilting voice carrying on the wind, as if it was specifically meant to find your ears. You couldn’t help yourself as you turned towards it, your feet carrying you in the direction of the voice that you just needed to be closer to.

You saw him in the moonlight, soft features illuminated as you got closer. Dark hair falling gently into his face, pretty lips moving along with his song, and a glint in his eye that was decidedly sinister. You were sure he saw you, he didn’t look right at you but he had to have noticed you before starting towards the willow tree grove, the long leaves swaying gently in the breeze. He was trying to make you follow him, he wanted you alone in those trees.

And like a fool you were following him.

The man. The creature slowed as the trees around you thickened. You got closer and closer with each step and you had to wonder what would happen now. Was he going to kill you? You weren’t sure why he would. Maybe he wasn’t human. Maybe he ate humans. Maybe you were his dinner. Maybe he simply killed humans for fun. Maybe he needed something from you that he couldn’t find any other way. 

Maybe your ship almost crashing was no mere accident.

All at once his song stopped. You stumbled a little in your steps, coming to a halt and staring at his back, his long cloak that had trailed along the ground behind him shifting. He threw a glance back over his shoulder, a grin on his lips and what you were sure were sharp teeth in his mouth. His eyes were a dark blood red and somehow it all just had you frozen to the spot.

“So willing,” he hummed. You said nothing. Was it better to accept your fate? If he was going to kill you would it do well to run? Maybe he would be uninterested if you gave him no reaction. You’d walked yourself into this mess so you supposed it was only to be expected, wasn’t it?

“Have you figured out why we’re here?” He toyed.

“Well, I suppose you’re planning to kill me.” You said plainly.

The creature started, twisting around so you could see him much more clearly. He looked almost stunned by your easy admission, or perhaps it was the calm with which you said it. 

“And yet you followed me.” He quirked an eyebrow.

“Many people die doing something stupid that they shouldn’t have, don’t they?”

He simply blinked at you. Maybe you were taking all the fun out of this for him. If he really only killed for sport then he got very little out of prey that didn’t bother to run. Didn’t bother to scream. But if he lured you in here he already knew he could win, so what was the point in running. You might as well live out the moments calmly.

You hoped it didn’t hurt too much.

“Can you make it quick?” You asked.

“Qu-Quick?”

“Yes, I don’t really want to suffer much. So if you do it quickly it’ll be easier. Probably less messy too.”

“Why do you think I would care about that?” He asked, seeming almost shaken.

You shrugged. “You just seem the type.”

“I-” He took a step towards you and you remained in your spot. It was fascinating seeing the hunter not get his way. “You’re going to die. Aren’t you going to run? Scream for help?”

“You know these woods well, yes?”

“What does that have to do wit-”

“Do you?” You interrupted him and he looked offended.

“I do but-”

“Then you know that you’ve taken me somewhere where none of that matters.”

He opened his mouth to speak and promptly closed it again. He was starting to deflate just a little with each statement you uttered.

“Yes, well…”

“Why would I waste my time with it?” You questioned. “What’s the point?”

“The point?” He was truly stunned now. “Have you no sense of self preservation?” “I regularly sail on a sea known for its monsters such as yourself,” you said pointedly. “You either have to be wildly sure of yourself and the promise of riches, or an idiot.”

“And which one are you?”

“Which do you think?”

“Are you saying all of my meals are stupid?” He scoffed.

“Are you saying the smart ones fall for this?” You countered.

His lips puffed into a genuine pout and despite the knowledge of razor sharp teeth and the red eyes staring back at you you found the whole thing cute. You didn’t mean to ruin this siren’s dinner with your comments but you were amused nonetheless.

“It takes more skill than you think,” he muttered. “The singing and the luring and sometimes I have to sing to them so many times before they would follow me. It’s hard work.”

You reached out a hand against all instinct and patted his shoulder. He fully hissed at you at first but when you stepped closer and continued patting him in a show of comfort he admitted defeat, slumping into himself and casting his gaze downwards.

“There, there,” you hummed.

“Humiliating.” He mumbled.

“You can still eat me or whatever,” you offered. You might have truly lost your mind.

“Where’s the fun in that,” his gaze snapped up to meet yours, a glint in his eye again, not matching his words at all. “When you’re not scared?”

Maybe he had something else up his sleeve. You supposed that standing your ground had gotten you this far. If you were unphased he might just let you go. You didn’t want to get your hopes up necessarily but you might just escape with your life tonight despite your own dumb choices.

“What else do you got?” You asked.

A grin tugged at his lips again. He rolled his shoulders back, pushing his clock off.  You watched it fall to the ground, but your eyes quickly shifted upwards. A gasp tumbled off your lips that he seemed to enjoy as you took in the sight.

You weren’t sure what to expect, the unexpected you supposed, but even so the four deep sea blue tentacles that seemed to be coming from his back were a shock. You felt your own eyes going wide as you tried to wrap your mind around them. They were large and strange and shiny and he was looking at you again like you were delicious delicious prey.

Maybe your own mind was your best defense. You didn’t have a drop of fear in your body, but instead an intense curiosity. How had he kept them hidden under the cloak? Was it some kind of witchcraft? Why did he have them in the first place? Did all sirens have tentacles? Was he something else? What did they feel like? Were they smooth? Or slimy? Were they warm?

You reached out towards them with wide eyes and his own expression shifted to one of disbelief. 

“Incredible,” he mumbled. You let out a yelp as he wrapped two of the tentacles around you and pulled you close to him, nearly flush against him. They felt warm and strong around your body and you weren’t too proud to admit that you liked the way the sea monster was holding you. You wondered if they were strong enough to pick you up completely.

“You have no fear.”

“They’re so pretty,” you were almost more transfixed as you drew your finger over the warm, smooth tentacle, letting it drag down and circle around one of the suckers. The tentacle tensed and you met his eye, seeing a mixture of disbelief and slight embarrassment on his face.

“Don’t touch that,” he said quickly.

“Why?”

“Just don’t.”

“I want to know how it feels. Is it sensitive? Does it hurt if I touch it?”

“Just-” He squeezed you tighter, now wrapping a tentacle around your front, it being the only distance between you and him. You held in a whimper that formed in the back of your throat at the added pressure. “Leave it be.”

You wiggled a little, watching his expression grow annoyed. “Well what now?”

“I-I’m not sure.” His voice was unsteady as he pondered it himself. While he did so you started to trace your fingertips over the smooth surface of the tentacle. He threw you a look but said nothing as he seemed to keep thinking. The tentacle tensed under your touch but eventually relaxed. You felt the end of one tentacle wrapping around your calf, slipping up under your night dress. The suckers attached themselves to your leg, sucking at the skin, and you felt the rush of warmth through your body, like five love bites all happening at once.

It was the moan that caught the creature’s attention, one that you couldn’t keep inside at the nice feeling. You didn’t meet his eye as his gaze snapped back to you. You may have had little to no instinct for self-preservation but you did still have some semblance of shame.

“What was that?” He snapped.

“What was what?” You hummed.

“Did you moan?”

You felt a tentacle on your chin, suddenly forcing him to look at you. Heat rushed up to your face and down your spine at the action. You bit down on your lip, wondering if there really was any kind of good answer to this. You weren’t sure if you had gotten yourself any closer to living but you were starting to think about how the tentacles might feel against more of your skin, how they might feel between your legs…

“Unbelievable.” he laughed.

“Well how else am I supposed to react?” You questioned, already sounding a little whiny. 

He smirked just a little. “You know what?” You let out a yelp as he pulled you flush against you, lips brushing yours and holding you slightly in the air. Apparently he was strong enough to pick you up and that only turned you on more. “Not what I was expecting tonight, but I can work with this.”

You let out a whimper as his lips crashed against yours. He kissed you harshly, hands finding a grip on your waist while all of the tentacles started to move. Slipping up under your night dress suckers attached to your back, making you arch it slightly while another slid up your stomach, starting to toy with your chest.

Moans slid into kisses with him as a tentacle made its way up between your legs. He took his sweet time getting there and each moment of anticipation was making you want more and making you want it now. You couldn’t very well move much, squirming a little while he held you in place, but you could reach out your hand to grab at him, keeping him close as your kisses grew sloppier.

So much warmth had pooled in the pit of your stomach you were surprised it wasn’t dripping between your legs yet. The sucker marks he left all over your skin had you whining as arousal rushed through you. With each passing second your core was aching more to be touched. The intense curiosity had you wanting to feel the silky smooth tentacles in any place you could, making the most of the night and the choices you’d made.

“So eager,” he hummed, smiling against your lips as his tentacle traced shapes into your inner thighs.

“Do you have to move so slow?” You whined.

“Do you think you have the power here?” He laughed. He wasn’t wrong in that, but you could still counter it.

“Don’t you want to fuck me?”

He kissed you again, enjoying the way you cried out against him as his tentacle started teasing your entrance. 

“Touché,” he hummed against your lips.

You gripped him more tightly as another of his tentacles pulled your legs apart a little more. Your body was trembling just with the anticipation of it. He brought a tentacle to lay over your nipples, crying out as the suckers started to suck at them. The tentacle between your legs swirled before the tip pressed into your heat, drawing a broken moan from your lips at just the small, smooth feeling.

“Seungmin,” he murmured to you.

“Hm?” Your mind was already getting foggy.

“Seungmin,” He repeated, a grin on his lips as he sunk his tentacle further into you, more moans pouring from your lips. “That’s the name you’ll be crying out very soon.”

[physicalturian]

[G] My Prince - Nikolai Lantsov x Fem!Reader

[Spoilers for : Shadow and Bone; Siege and Storm; Run and Rising] [No spoilers for : King of Scars ; Rule of Wolves; Six of Crows; Crooked Kingdom]

[She/her pronouns used for the reader, no physical description; Everyone +18] Words : 9569 Archive of our own

Tags : Flirting / War / Fluff / PTSD / Cuteness / Awkwardness / Soft / Love confession

Request stated : Hi ! Could you do a Nikolai Lantsov x reader request ? Where they are in love and have been together since she joined his crew after running away from the Little Palace but then everything happens and they break up because he has to marry Alina and then after he becomes human again and the Darkling is killed they get back together.

- - -

Everything happened so fast, the attack on the Little Palace by The Darkling, the explosions, the blinding light from the roof, all my fallen friends on the ground bathing in their own blood. Names were screamed in despair; we all retaliated the best we could, but we were outnumbered by far. I did not know what were those things that came flying straight for me, but I couldn’t move, I was paralyzed by fear. I tried to get out of the way, no matter how many times I told myself to dodge, I couldn’t. And yet, I saw the demon-like bird’s claws pass right next to me, only grazing my cheek as I was thrown out of its way.

“Now, I understand those creatures are fascinating, but they’re not exactly the friendliest,” I heard next to me, a hand gripping my arm tightly. I couldn’t move, but felt a gloved hand turned my face and look at me, “You!” “Your knight in shining armor, the honor was all mine,” The blond said with a smirk, but there was still urgency behind it.

 Looking around quickly, he told me to hide behind one of the trees and came back with a few other Grisha before hurrying us back to what looked like a flying ship. I wanted to stare at it a moment before the man lifted me off the ground, “I know it’s impressive, they all say that, but now’s not the time to look,” He said in a light, playful even, yet serious tone as he helped me on deck, he once more told me to stay, maybe even sit then left.

 This was my first encounter with Nikolai Lantsov, the bastard son, the witty only living heir to the throne of Ravka.

 I did not remember much of that night until I got on the ship, I know I was brought of change of clothes, my red kefta was a tone deeper, wetter than it used to be. When I placed my hand on the fabric, and looked at my palm, blood stared right at me. I did not know what to say, and only stared at it until a hand placed a wet washcloth on mine. “Unless the Little Palace hid blood-sucking people in their basement, which I wouldn’t be surprised of, and you’re hungry- then it’d be better to clean yourself up, dear.”

 “I’m not a vampire.” I uttered before grabbing the cloth from his hand and slowly getting the blood off myself, taking off the kefta, I still had clothes underneath, but I did feel the frilly temperature of the night. I throw a glance at the prince and found him looking anywhere but at me, “Why aren’t you looking?”

 He huffed, a smug smile adorning his features, “Is that a request? If so, I’ll gladly-“ “No, not a request. Just curious.” I replied with a huff. I couldn’t help the tired smile on my lips as I dipped the cloth back in the water to finish removing the blood before putting on the clean clothes I was offered. “I might be known as the bastard son, but I still have the education of a prince,” He paused. “But don’t worry, I’ll gladly look when you’ll ask for it-“

 “Gross, no thank you,” I glanced at him and nodded, “But thank you for the clothes. I should probably… do something-” Then I remembered, my eyes widened when the penny dropped, I quickly scrambled to my senses and got up, giving the best curtsy I could muster in this state, “Your highness, your highness, pardon my being improper I-“ He shook his head and stood up, laughing charmingly but also what seemed to be exhausted. “Don’t, right now call me Nikolai, some call me Too-Clever fox,” A smile made its way on his lips, “But you can also call me handsome, pretty face,”

 Laughing, I interrupted him, “I think Nikolai is a fine name, I’ll be sure not to remind you of your title, your high- Nikolai.” He looked at me for a moment, his mouth widening into a grin as he asked me my name. When I told him, he shook his head and held my hand gently, “I think ‘gorgeous’ suits you better,” he then pressed a kiss on my knuckles. I pulled my hand away, rolling my eyes.

 “Call me as you please, I do not really care,” When he was about to reply, Zoya called him, if not pressed him, to come, saying they had to talk. I was ready to leave, but he pulled my hand once again, “Ah, duty does not wait, but my heart does, hopefully you will?” I scoffed and swatted his hand away, “I’ll be going, no one makes Zoya Nazyalensky wait, you should hurry if you do not wish to be thrown overboard.” I said playfully before leaving.

 This was the extent of my first encounter with Nikolai Lantsov.

 We encountered one another a lot more, but those happened at night. I kept having dreams of the attack on the Little Palace. I would wake up in the middle of the night, breathless, sweating, and unable to go back to sleep. Not wanting to wake the people around me, I’d go back on deck, there would be squallers and inferni, making the ship work, while the prince would be sitting with plans in front of him. A thoughtful expression on his face. I blamed my tired state for the first time the thought crossed my mind, but under the moonlight, his expression determined and focused… He was almost handsome.

 I must have stared too long that time, he lifted his head from the plans and looked at me curiously before smiling and beckoning me to come closer. I turned around to leave but he called my name, I couldn’t ignore it, or perhaps was it because he was royalty and I felt like I couldn’t ignore him. So, I joined him, sat by his side and did not say anything. He was the one to start the conversation, “The dreams are the worst, but you get used to it, for what it’s worth. I have them every night, from the front.”

 “Is that why you are awake, my prince?” I did not realize I had used his title; I was overcome with exhaustion and couldn’t think straight. I heard him chuckled, “War does not wait, gorgeous. We need a plan of attack,” I looked at him a moment, then at his plans. “And where do you think we’ll find the resources to build this? Ravka is overcome with debts,”

 This is when he started ranting, with eagerness, about what he had planned. What was going to happen, the steps to follow, I listened intently, finding it almost endearing how passionate he was about it but forgot that thought as I fell back asleep.

 I did apologize when I woke, about falling asleep, telling him it wasn’t boring, but that I was exhausted. He tutted me and added, “Nonsense, I enjoyed watching you sleep, did you know you snor-“ “I do not snore. And it’s definitely creepy to watch someone sleep, my prince.”  He only laughed in response. Something in my stomach churned, I shouldn’t be friendly with him, but it felt easy to be as such with him.

 He had this easiness about him, this charm that one couldn’t help but let themselves be drawn to. It was a useful skill if he were to become King of Ravka, a skill that he had honed throughout years of… What had the young prince been doing these past few years? I never saw him inside the palace, as if he wasn’t even there. But he hadn’t been doing nothing, he seemed full of resources.

 While I pondered some more, I felt a hand on my shoulder and looked up, Zoya gestured for me to get up and to look. As I did, I saw a gorgeous looking building made of glass, “What is that place? Did you know it existed?” I asked her in awe, she only shook her head before adding that the prince was full of surprises and for now it was useful, but she was keeping an eye on him.

 “I do like to keep a few tricks up my sleeve, it comes in handy when I want to see that look of surprise on the face of pretty women,” Two sighs followed his words, one from Zoya and another from me before we moved away from him and made our way to slightly unsteady lift that led us deeper inside what Nikolai introduced to us as the Spinning Wheel. I did not feel safe underground, and yet, when our feet met the ground, it felt as if a weight had been lifted from my chest.

 This place was foreign to me, I was used to the safety of the Little Palace’s walls, knowing all that was happening, when it’d happen. When the attack had happened, that routine had been disrupted and I knew it was never coming back. It was the beginning of something big, something I did not want to get used to. And yet, right now, between these gorgeous walls, with people running around, crates in hands, sweat dripping from their foreheads as if they had been working non-stop, and with few peoples I knew… I felt safer. Not entirely safe, but a step closer to feeling such.

 “You do like to daydream, I can’t blame you, I am quite the sight,” Said the blond prince as he joined my side, looking where I was looking. I felt his shoulder hit mine and shuffled away, still wanting to put some distance between a man I knew I should fear for he had power where I had not. “I got lost in thoughts. I’m still trying to take in what this all means,” I said softly, meeting the blonde’s joyous gaze, when he met mine, he seemed to be shaken only for a moment before fondness replaced the excitement.

 “It’s something big, bigger than all of us,” he started, making me sigh in loss of hope, as I mumbled, “What are we even doing if it’s impossible to win?” It made the prince laugh as he grinned at me. I did not like how lightly he was taking the situation and was about to give him a piece of my mind when he said, “When people say impossible, they mean improbable,” “We lost the only possible person who could take the Darkling, I don’t see Alina anywhere around,” I stated, my arms open wide as I turned around to emphasize her missing.

 “Being optimistic is sometimes very close to being delusional, my prince, I do not buy that bullshit attitude of yours-“ “Hope is what keeps us alive. Soldiers and Grisha alike, we’re all tired, exhausted even and even though you do not appreciate that bullshit attitude of mine, it is what we all need.” He said in a very political way, with that charming smile, “And even without the sun summoner, I’m pretty sure I can outwit that old geezer,” He said in full confidence, almost puffing his chest as he said so.

 “What we need is to be better prepared, they did not teach us how to fight at the Little Palace,” I paused and observed the young prince a moment, “When you become King, you should change that, because this is only the beginning, my prince,” Before I could leave to join Zoya that I could see at one of door, not only did she disappear out of sight, but I felt the King grab my wrist. Scowling, I stopped in my tracks and looked at him, “Grisha will be training with soldiers, you will not go unprepared,”

 His tone was serious, then a smug smile drew itself on his lips as he let go of my wrist, “But what did I tell you, gorgeous? Call me Nikolai, this situation does not call for formalities,” He was changing topic, perhaps he did not want to talk about such matters with me, or perhaps he wanted a change of air. I played along and gestured for him to walk with me, “Well, Nikolai, if you could show me to the Grisha quarters-“ “Oh it’s now mixed rooms, hope you do not mind,” He threw me a playful grin, “If you do, I shall let you know that I am the owner of a single room. Now, it’s close to the King and Queen’s room, but I’ll be sure to ask the fabrikators to help with the acoustic, the King does snore very loudly,”

 I rolled my eyes, hopefully hiding that I thought he meant something else with the acoustic. We didn’t talk more afterwards, for I did not ask him any other question and he seemed to understand I was not in the mood to talk. The situation we were in stressed me out and talking about it in details did not help. When he led me to my shared room, he slipped away to meet up with Zoya along other Grisha and soldiers.

 I never considered taking him up on his offer of the single room.

 While everyone trained during the day, and it was tiresome, so tiresome that I would pass out the moment my head would hit the pillow, I would still wake up during the night. My body almost shaking in fear. I could still see those screeching creatures coming for me, the dread I felt that night, bodies surrounding me. Blue, red or purple, it did not matter, every kefta had ended up tainted in blood. We were taught to use our power, promised safety but never taught to deal with such things.

 Running a hand on my face, I got out of bed without a sound and made my way out once more. If every night was going to end up like this, I might as well find a quiet spot to sleep and give my room to someone who could use it, I thought as I tightened my kefta around my form. I walked up the stairs to, hopefully, find peace and calm down by staring at the stars. I let out a sigh of relief when I found nobody there and sat against the wall to look up the stars.

 I do not know how long as stayed there, trying to steer my thoughts away from the depressing feelings I was feeling, and it was hard, I could barely manage it. When I remembered a good memory, I was reminded that the friend I shared it with was laying on the ground, dead. I tried not to cry, I promise, but failed. My peace was interrupted by someone clearing their throat nearby. I turned around and instinctively tightened my fist, slowing their heart before I could see who it was.

 I let go just as fast when I saw the blond prince in front of me, he breathed out heavily, “Usually, I’m the one who has the ladies say ‘my heart stopped’ but dare I say, you left me breathless,” he scoffed humorously. I rushed to his side, wiping my tears away, apologizing as I patted his chest, his arms, anything, I did not know what to do. “I’m fine, don’t you worry gorgeous. It takes a lot more than that to take me down, I’m quite resilient, something the King never quite liked.” I squinted my eyes, not knowing what it meant before stepping back.

 “What are you doing here? Shouldn’t the brain of the war be resting?” I asked with my arms crossed over my chest. It made Nikolai chuckle, “You flatter me, I am indeed smart and do require sleep,” He paused. “I should also let you know, I have people on watch who warn me of the whereabouts of everyone here. You can imagine my surprise to hear you sneaked out at this hour, gorgeous.”

 Sighing, I turned around and sat back where I was, “I feel like you’re not going to leave until I tell you,” I pondered out loud, nodding, Nikolai joined me saying I was very right then added, “But I’m fairly confident I can guess what’s bothering that pretty mind of yours,” I quirked a brow at the blond, wordlessly telling him to go ahead. “The nightmares are not going to leave just like that,” he snapped his fingers. “I know… I know… I’m just trying to clear my thoughts, I can’t fall back asleep when I wake up from that,”

 “You did not seem to have any trouble on deck,” He pondered out loud, his eyes observing all my moves. I looked straight ahead, not wanting to let him read me. I shrugged, brought my knees to my chest and rested my arms on it to lay my head on them. “I guess my focus was on you and not my thoughts, maybe that’s why… it doesn’t matter though,” Turning my head, I looked him up and down, and changed topic, “Sorry again for the,” I moved my hands vaguely, talking about moments ago when I slowed his heart, “Thing, you startled me,”

 He laughed and shoved his hand in the pocket of his coat, pulling out a notebook and a pen, “It’s all in the past, we can go back to you loving the sound of my voice so much you fall asleep to it,” “I did not say that,” Opening his notebook, he started doodling as he spoke, “No need to, I reckon it’ll be demonstrated when you’ll fall asleep once more as I start explaining this great idea I had with David earlier this afternoon, it’s underwater boats and…” If someone asked me, I’d say I was bothered by the prince’s presence.

 But no one asked. It was just me and my thoughts, and his presence was secretly welcomed. He was funny to be around, light-hearted. I know behind all of this, was a man riddled with responsibilities, problems and perhaps as much stress as I was. But maybe we both needed this, someone else to simply hang out with. Not talk about the civil war, simply enjoy one another’s presence. I do not know what I brought him, if anything I thought he’d want to leave.

 But he stayed. We met up like this almost every night, on this very spot.

 It became close to a habit, when I’d wake up during the night and sneak out of my room, I’d see the blond leaning against the door frame, a smile on his lips. He’d wave at me before following my steps. Sometimes he’d remark how I was earlier or late, I’d just laugh it off and gesture for him to just follow. One night he suggested we’d perhaps take blankets, adding that as much as he enjoyed those little escapades of ours, he would rather avoid losing his toes. Since that night, there was a crate outside with blankets.

 Tonight, I’d taken upon myself to bring a book too. I felt bad, falling asleep when Nikolai would enthusiastically rant, it did not stop him from talking though. He would often mumble to himself or ask me questions I couldn’t answer but I’d try nonetheless, making him think before his face would light up as if he had the greatest idea. He would resume his scribbling.

 Tonight, however, he went silent, when I looked his way, I saw he was reading over my shoulder, I quickly placed my hand on the pages and closed the book. He whined, going for the book, “Come on, it was getting to the best part,” When I felt his cold hand touch mine, I simply let him take the book and shrugged, my face warming up, I was not going to play tug war to keep my book. His face was startled for a moment, if not hurt.

 I felt bad. I did not mean it as anything bad, I simply got caught off guard. And I also knew the feelings that had started developing within me and knew I could not act on it nor let myself believe anything would happen. He was royalty, he was a war leader… he was funny, and brought warmth to my cold, cold, heart.

 So, I chuckled nervously, “Your hands are cold, my prince-“ “Nikolai, it’s Nikolai. I’d think you’d remember it by now considering the many nights we’ve spent together, most women would remember it by the end of the first night,” He said charmingly, as he opened the book on the right page on my lap and leaned back against the wall to face his notes.

 “Am I most women? I find myself to be quite different from others, the nightmares add to the charm do they not? I even thought we had something special,” I said in a jokingly dramatic manner as I turned a page and waited anxiously for his reply, inside I regretted saying anything. Why did I want him to tell me we had something? I was being delusional, this was but companionship, we both had trouble sleeping and found one another’s company enjoyable, that was all. Pure, platonic companionship.

 I heard him chuckle and dared look his way, I felt my face warm up when I saw him looking at me with a huge smile as he was leaning on his fist, his elbow resting on his knee. He looked slightly stupid in this position, but also cute. “I think I found the pattern; all things have a pattern. It’s only a matter of finding it to understand,” I quirked a brow at his words and closed the book on my lap, making sure to put the bookmark. “For example, I like my women strong and hard to get,” I felt my heart skip a beat but only rolled my eyes in response.

 “How charming, where are you getting at, my prince- Nikolai,” He made a victory sound, and leaned forward, pointing at me with his index as his grin widened. “This, exactly this, oh this is good,” He said excitedly. I couldn’t help the small smile on my lips. I was waiting for him to develop, “Tell me if I’m wrong, gorgeous, but I think you’ve fallen for my charms.”

I raised my brows in surprise and hid my embarrassment by simply questioning, “That’s quite the reach, I do wonder how you came to the conclusion,”

 That cocky smile never left his lips, he grabbed my book and set it down on the ground, then resting his hand next to it as he leaned in. I leaned back. “I’ll wait longer, I need to test that theory first, I’ll keep you up to date gorgeous,” He winked, brought my knuckle to his lips and pressed a delicate kiss on it before returning to his thinking.

 This time he talked loud enough for it to be thought a conversation, which ruined my reading plans. I rested my head on my knees and looked at him as he talked. It was a close call, maybe I should be more careful with what I do if he knew I liked him. I was not going to abandon our late-night talks, but maybe I should be more aware of what I do. I did not know what was my tell, but I was going to make sure to not let it slide anymore.

 I fell asleep soon after. I think I felt something cold touch my hand before passing out, but it was probably the ground.

 We never stopped the late-night conversations. Only, I felt like the young prince was more insistent with his flirtatious ways, and I couldn’t say I was immune to his charms. He would say the most ridiculous things, and yet I would laugh and feel weird in my stomach, like,

 “Focused and determined, if I did not know it was a romantic story, I’d think you were doing hard maths. One would wish you’d look at them as intensely as you stared at those pages, gorgeous.” He once said, I huffed a laugh, suddenly feeling self-conscious with his intense gaze, “Perhaps my prince wishes I’d look at him that way?” I said half-jokingly. “Oh, you already do, I can feel your stare when I’m talking about my inventions, it’s endearing to see you so enthralled when I talk,” He said with a smug smile.

 I looked away, focusing my gaze on the sky, “I’m not enthralled, I’m confused, go back to your notes,” I mumbled, opening my book again.

 Another time, we were talking heatedly about a topic we both had in common that I found the most interesting. At some point during the conversation, he would only pitch in from time to time, it took me some time to notice that I had been rambling. When I stopped and told him to go on, he shook his head, “Nonsense, I find there’s a certain glow to your pretty person as you talk about things you hold close to you heart. One’s mind tends to wonder if an expression as beautiful as yours could be brought at the mention of one’s name…” He trailed off with a slight smirk.

 “Nonsense” I imitated his tone playfully, “One could maybe talk as themselves if one feels there is something they’d like to share, wouldn’t you think my prince?” I asked rhetorically, my face was warming up. I hoped I read it right, I hoped he wasn’t just flirting for fun and hoped he felt the same way, but I was not going to take the first step. Would it not be considered arrogant of someone like me to think I had a chance with a prince?

 His laugh reached my ears, then an excited huff as he moved away from the wall and scooted closer to me, sitting perpendicular of me. “Are you curious of my theory, gorgeous?”

 I was, if he was asking, it meant I hadn’t been able to hide it as good as I thought I had been, “Not in the slightest, no,” I replied off-handedly. He turned me around, his hands gripping my shoulders as I faced him, “But you are, I can see it! You are curious, and a bad liar, but don’t worry, your secret is safe with me” He winked as he drew a cross over his heart. “See, this theory of mine,” He paused and pulled out his notebook, “Which has been proven, right here,” He showed me his notes, but I could barely read it.

 I knew he wrote well, but when it was more of a brainstorming, or rushed notes, he wrote like a pirate. I nodded for him to continue. “You like me, we’ve been over that-“ “I don’t think we have, you seem very confident though,”

He tutted me and continued, “You only call me ‘my prince’ when you’re flustered or embarrassed, as if you’re trying to distance yourself, am I wrong?” He asked with a breathtaking smile, he was overjoyed by this. As if he had solved the most difficult problem of his life, which I hardly think it was.

 “I don’t-“ “Did you notice, in casual conversations, you call me Nikolai, as you should. But the moment I flirt with you,” He changed his tone when he continued and imitated a sort of shyness, “my prince,” he said with a heartful laugh.

 I know he meant it as a joke, but I took it at heart and scoffed. I threw him a cautious glance, taking in how handsome he looked under the moonlight. How his hair was still a bit messy from waking up in the middle of the night, I never knew if he couldn’t sleep either or if he woke up for me, but I believe the former was more probable.

 There was moment of silence, which was rare with Nikolai Lantsov. As if he could not bear the silence, but he never said so, instead he did the conversation all by himself. He always knew what to say, no matter who he was talking to, maybe that’s what was going on here.

 Or perhaps he wanted me to tell him I liked him… “One tends to distance themselves when they know that liking a prince only ends up well in fairytales,” I mumbled, shrugging. I had to try hard to calm myself, even considering using my power to calm my fast-beating heart.

 “Are you saying liking me is only possible in a fairytale?” I took the bait, I had already started talking when I looked at him in panic and saw the smirk on his face, “No, I’m saying it’s not as simple as one would think to … get together with royalty,” Chuckling, he grabbed my hands in his and pulled me closer, our knees touching.

 “Let’s talk properly, shall we? I want you, and I am fairly certain you want me too-“ Nikolai started, I had to interrupt, “Pardon?” I uttered in shock; my eyes as wide as a diner plate. An unusual nervous sound left his lips, as the blond quirked a brow, “It’s hard to believe I read the room wrong, from what I gathered you do not look at anyone else the way you look at me. Though it is only fitting that I’d receive all the attention.”

 “I thought you were fake flirting Nikolai, I thought I was being delusional,” I let go of his hands and let myself fall back on the ground delicately, now staring at the starry sky, a chuckle of disbelief escaping my lips. I heard him shuffle closer as he laid down next to me. Heat was emanating from his body, making me want to scoot closer and hold him but I stood there.

 “I’ll admit I am of flirtatious nature, but you’re the only one who enjoys my talking, that is something I am grateful for,” He started, “You are also very smart, and beautiful. I wouldn’t say as beautiful as me, I am quite the charming lad,” we both chuckled, as I nudged his hand playfully. He stopped me by grabbing it and intertwining our fingers, my breath hitched, and I turned my head to face him, slowly. Nikolai was already staring at me with a lovely smile.

 I loved the idea of being with him, but I knew it wasn’t possible, “It would have been nice… to be with you that is…” I said with a sad smile, “But I don’t think the King and Queen would appreciate it, for Ravka’s sake-“ “There, already thinking like a true Queen,” He said half-jokingly, I don’t know what he was doing. He was supposed to tell me I was right, it wouldn’t work, he was supposed to cut everything off. Instead, he was entertaining the thought.

 “Dear, let’s not think of what’s to come and enjoy our time while we can, shall we?” “You say that as if we were going to die, that’s not the optimistic Prince I know.” I said humorously, not enjoying the dark turn the conversation was taking.

 “You are very right, gorgeous. You are correct that the King and Queen won’t like it, not one bit. They’re quite set on marrying me off to some wealthy princess, but I do love a challenge, let’s first win this war. Anything can happen, and until then, I would gladly have you by my side.” There was some uncertainty in his tone when he continued, almost timid. Uncharacteristic of him, but I found myself relax slightly knowing he was not always brash and charming. As if we had a common ground here in both being new to this. “If you desire to not go forth with this, I’ll respect your wish, gorgeous.”

 “I want you too Nikolai,” I heard a short sigh of relief, “And my wish is for you to kiss me, can you respect that-“ I was interrupted by a breathless laugh as two hands cradled my face gently and pulled me closer, his lips pressed against mine, I could feel the smile on his lips and could only oblige in returning it. “Good, do you want to keep this secret or-“ “I think keeping it between our closest friends would be better, not that I’m ashamed. I’d flaunt you in a heartbeat, not that people would care, but…” “-But let’s not have the court talking just yet, I’m sure women will be jealous. Who wouldn’t be with such a handsome man by your side, after all? I’m quite the catch,” He paused.

 “And maybe let’s avoid the wrath of the King and Queen’s for now,”

 “Well… I never went fishing, but I’d say you’re an OK fish,” I told him teasingly, jumping back on his saying of being a good catch. He huffed in faux-shock, “An ok fish? I’ll have you known I am more of a very handsome fox, have you seen my lush hair?”

 This was the night I find out Nikolai felt the same way I did about him. From that day, I did start considering his offer of the single room but was afraid of people finding out.

 Meeting in his bedroom would be more comfortable, in a way we wouldn’t be sitting on the floor and freezing ourselves to death. But I love the blanket of the wide-open night, the darkness of it, the secrecy it brought us, something I doubt a room next to the King and Queen’s room could bring.

 We’d play the game well. The one where we weren’t supposed to be close, it was hard to keep it up with Nikolai’s subtle flirts when we’d cross paths. During the day he’d be running around, getting things done, with other people around him and would still dare to look my way while I’d be training, and wink at me. When I’d receive a hit from losing focus and look back at him frustrated, he’d grin and mouth “careful”.

 The soldier I was training with was starting to catch on, I thought she had found out when she chuckled. “Has the little Grisha taken a liking to the young prince?” I scoffed in response, playing it off and retaliating her previous attack. “I’d be a fool if I did, let’s resume,” I was indeed a fool and there was no helping it. I was falling more and more in love with the witty prince the more I spent time with him.

 He grew bolder in his moves, making me look at him exasperated the day he asked the person I was training with, if he could practice a bit. Thinking he meant for me to leave, I stepped aside but he laughed, “You can go Zeke, I’m a bit rusty but I want to see how our little Grisha is fending for herself,”

 I looked him dead in the eyes, without showing my true feelings. I threw a glance at Zeke, hoping they wouldn’t try to read the room, instead they left a bit confused.

 We stepped closer to one another, reading our weapon, “Nikolai, what are you doing,” he grinned, oh so charmingly, “Making sure my training programs is working, of course!” He exclaimed as we started fencing. I had a hard time getting a hit on him, I tried to argue that he had been doing this since he was a child, probably. Adding to that his great side life as privateer, he must have been in many fights, but then I remember he would mostly fight with pistols.

 When he was about to hit me another time, I used my power to make him feel dizzy. I fell back, avoiding his sword, he only lost a bit of his balance and stood standing right there. “I believe that’s cheating gorgeous,” He whispered, extending his hand to me to help me up. I didn’t take it and stood up on my own, leaning in and gritting through my teeth, “I can’t concentrate when you’re looking at me like that,” His grin only widened at that, “With burning passion and awe? You truly are stunning when you’re fighting, dear,”

 I gave him a deadly glare once again, unable to hide my blush, “Nikolai, no!”

“Nikolai, yes, I believe I won. See you tonight?” He looked around mischievously before placing a delicate kiss on my cheek and slipping away without an ounce of regret in his strut. I stood there in shock until Zeke returned and we resumed our training. No one had seen a thing.

 Later, the return of the Sun Summoner happened. The worry I felt upon being discovered with the prince grew in a different direction. Upon her return, a lot went down, one being the making of Nikolai a King. His father had abdicated, both him and the Queen were to stay away from Ravka. Talks about an alliance between him and Sankta Alina was going around, meaning, a marriage. I ignored it the best I could.

 One time we almost got caught when I was told the King had asked for a meeting with me, I held back a groan at how this lacked discretion. I made my way to the room dedicated for the war meetings with the most important people, and saw Nikolai looking at the map on the table in the middle of the room. He signaled for the person who accompanied me to leave, that this was important and needed all his focus. They nodded and closed the door behind. His diplomatic attitude fell to the ground like a cape being removed off his beautiful person.

 “Your majesty, you’re growing careless,” I was afraid someone was listening on the other side of the door and kept some distance between us, something he did not seem to be in the mood for. Instead, he grabbed both my hands and pulled me deeper into the room, whispering, “I wanted to see you and as your King you cannot refuse me,” He said playfully, “Nikolai, do you not care what people might think of this?” I asked, exhausted.

 “The people think there is something between Zoya and I,” I felt my heart clench, sighing heavily as I rested my chin on his chest, looking at him from a weird angle. “Which… there is not, right?” I felt his arms tighten around my waist, it felt comforting to be in his embrace like this, I felt untouchable. He looked at me with a big smile, “Is my darling jealous?” I rolled my eyes and looked off to the side. “I love you Nikolai, Saints do I love you…” I paused. “But there is talk about getting married to the Sun Summoner, the people need a Queen they can look up to, and I think you should make that alliance…”

 He sighed and played with my hair as he spoke, “I’ll only accept one Queen by my side, I do not wish to marry Alina,”

“What you want is different from what Ravka needs, Nikolai. You and I both know that. We both knew from the moment we started this that, things will change, and I hardly think I would be fit for the throne. A Saint is what the country needs-“ “Funds is what Ravka needs, I am already considered a bastard, I have been called many names at the court but I meet their insults with laughter, I can add fool to the many titles I have been given it means I can marry the one I truly love,”

 I took a deep breath as I cradled his face in my hands, “Funds is what the country will need once we won… But hope is what keeps us alive, is it not? The people need hope right now, hope from a Saint ruling over them, I will stay by your side always, but you need this alliance with the Sun Summoner Nikolai,” We were interrupted by heavy knocks on the door before Zoya came rushing in, a scowl on her face. I had had time to step away from Nikolai and slump quickly on one of the seats to make it look like it was just a conversation.

 His mask came back the moment the door open, we did not talk more about it.

 I later heard he did propose with a big ring to Alina, Zoya informed me. But she had turned him down. I had to tell him to try harder, giving him tips of what I think could make her swoon. But deep down, I felt offended for his sake, why would she refuse him? He was handsome, smart, kind, gentle, funny- I stopped my thoughts for a moment, realizing how much I loved him and how much my heart ached for him. This situation was affecting me more than I thought it would, I knew he did not love her, and I also knew it from the start that it’d come down to that, but it still hurt.

 That same day, in the evening, I left my room late but did not find him following me. There was a pinch in my heart as I climbed up to reach the outside. When I arrived there, I saw Nikolai sitting on the railing with Alina a bit further away from him. My heart shattered but I kept my composure, Alina stepped away from the railing and met my eyes with surprise. I was the first one to speak, “My apologies, your majesty, Sankta Alina, I will leave you be,” with a curtesy I moved to leave but heard Nikolai call my name.

 Turning around, I held his gaze. I clenched my jaw, feeling jealousy build inside me. It was unlike me, but I couldn’t help it. I bowed once more, “Does your majesty require-“ “Gorgeous, I told you to call me Nikolai,” Many thoughts crossed my mind, but mostly, what is he doing? I heard him a lot closer this time, his hand reached for my cheek as he lifted my chin. I uttered his name in a warning tone, barely above a breath. “Oh, don’t worry, he told me about both of you. I wouldn’t have guessed; I mean sure I could see you clearly had a crush on the Too-Clever fox here.”

 “Alina, who wouldn’t? No one can resist my charms, I make women swoon with just a wink,” “And make them leave the moment you open your mouth, a shame you cannot for the life of you shut up Nikolai,” She replied playfully, making him fake gasp.

 I watched the interaction in shock, stepping back from the King, still not sure I could display anything else but curtesy to the King of Ravka and his little Saint. Daring to speak, I looked at the Sun Summoner, “I like listening to him talk, it’s interesting, don’t you think Sankta Alina?” She stared at me, before looking at Nikolai then back at me, “You managed to him blush!” “I do not blush; the air is frisky here. Let’s go back inside,” He ushered us both towards the door, only to have Alina stop us. “I’ll go back inside, but you,” She pointed at me, “Call me Alina, I am no Saint, and you,” she pointed at Nikolai, then at the ring on her finger, “I’ll only keep it until we win, but we are not getting married,” Then she left.

 Nikolai’s hand reached for mine and pulled me to our usual spot, pulling out a blanket and wrapping us in it quickly before talking, “As you can see, it’s unfortunate but the Saint does not wish to marry me, there is nothing I can do to force her,” He said a bit too happily. His hands both held mine, warming them up. The night was warmer the previous one, but it was still too chilly for any of us to stay outside without the proper blankets. “If the court does not call you a fool, I will. You have to be more persuasive with her, I know full well you could persuade a rock to move with just your charms,” I said with a light tone, but I was being serious.

 He brought my hands to his shoulders before helping me sit on his lap, it felt strange to be this close, but I did not say anything. “Would my charms work on you if I asked you to marry me?” I huffed a laugh; He was joking at the worst moments. “Nikolai Lantsov, Major of the Twenty-Second Regiment, Grand Duke of Udova, King of Ravka, the man who proposed to two women in one night. You’re-“ I scoffed, pausing as I rested my forehead against his, a small smile on my lips, “Don’t joke like that, I know if you ask again I’ll say yes, and it’s not… not until we won,”

 “Then how about a promise? I want you, no, need you by my side, I’ll wait until we won,” He paused, smirking. He tucked a strand of hair behind my ear and observed a moment, “Since the big ring is in Alina’s possession, no one will notice if…” He dug inside the pocket of his coat and turned my head just slightly; His hand grazed the shell of my ear as he spoke so close to me that I felt his breath hit my skin. “Sturmhond is a very fashionable man, I’m sure you’d like him, very charming too,” I made a confused face, moments after, he let go and gestured for me to touch.

 I felt a metallic thing on the shell of my ear, “Is that an ear cuff?” “Absolutely, I might be very eager to show you off, but I am not an idiot, and if any of us wore a ring, it’d be a bit obvious. Don’t you think?” He did not wait for an answer, “We’ll both know what it means. I will definitely buy you a gorgeous ring once this is over, but let’s settle for this little trinket for now-“ I cut him off by kissing him deeply, earning a surprised sound from him before he returned the kiss.

 I looked at him with a huge grin, he seemed embarrassed but recovered quickly, “I’ll take that as a yes,” “You are very thoughtful, thank you. I like it, I don’t have anything for you, not that you could wear anything without everyone being suspicious.” I chuckled.

“Oh my heart, I have plenty. Know that you are in my thoughts always,” “I think that’s my cue to leave, I have had my quota of…” I gestured at him playfully. The blond man pulled me closer, “Affection? Well, I have not, and as your King, I demand you stay until I am fully satiated.” And I did. We stayed there all night, until we fell asleep. It was good.

 This happiness did not last long. Some way, The Darkling found the Spinning Wheel. Everything went south from there, people dying, running around. I saw the woman who had taught me to control my power, jump into the void, I saw my lover getting snatched from in front of me, his screams reaching my ears. I called out for him but tried to hide my sadness, my heartbreak, behind fear. I failed. I yelled his name in despair, he fell back on the ground but was in searing pain. I approached him but saw his form change, it had taken the shape of something close to a volcra. “Nikolai!” I reached out for him, he stopped midair.

 His hand reached out for mine, for a single moment. I was not paying attention to what The Darkling was saying but was solely focused on the King that had transformed into a demon. I tried to pull him towards me, his claws dug inside my arm, but I didn’t let go. He pulled back, leaving red marks on my arms as I fell to my knees.

 This was what this man left behind, this bastard. The man I believed a mentor. He took everything for himself, he did not care. He claimed it was for the greater good but was a selfish- “Piece of shit!” I continued insulting him, but he only laughed, mocking me, saying I looked a poor little puppy in love.

 Soon enough, he disappeared. I do not know what happened next, I was out of it.

 I was later asked to join the Saint’s team in the search for amplifiers that I believed were legends, myths. Until it was not, I did not talk much during the trip. No matter what happened, I kept my composure. Or did I? I would play with the ear cuff Nikolai offered me, thinking back on our moments together. Zoya would sometimes try to have me talking, we would talk a few until none of us found the strength to keep up this charade. We were both exhausted, unable to fake being anything but terrified, lost, confused.

 During the trip, Alina disappeared and came back out of breath telling us she saw Nikolai, adding he was still himself, she knew. I did not want to believe her. I knew her to be way too optimistic, maybe more realistic, but I did not wish to believe her. I did not wish to have false hopes, believing Nikolai was lost seemed easier than spending my energy on hoping.

 Hope is what keeps us alive, I heard him say in my head. And I knew, Saints did I know that hope kept us alive… And part of me was still hopeful. I would later be glad this part hung on until the end.

 As much as I’d deny it, Alina’s news of having seen Nikolai, even in his demon form, and telling us he was still in there… it kept me going. Even in the hard times, even as we entered the fold, I was still thinking, maybe he’ll come out of the sky, grinning as usual, explaining us how he oh so easily escaped the hands of darkness. How he was back and ready to outwit that geezer of Darkling.

 It was anything but. The attack in the fold went awry at some point, I did not know when, I knew I got shot but kept going by stopping the bleeding. We couldn’t see anything anymore, I had gotten separated from the squad, and was now cornered. I tried to fight off the Volcra the best I could, but there were no inferni around, no Sun Summoner. I was going to die, but hopefully it wouldn’t have been in vain and in the end, Alina will have killed The Darkling.

 Death did not happen. Instead, an ear-piercing screech did. I felt talons grip my shoulders, it hurt but they did not dug fully into my skin, I tried to fight off the Volcra that had grabbed me. Fear coursing through my body, but as I did, I realize it was bringing me closer to the limit of the Fold.

 Then, a blinding light.

 Alina’s power. She was using it, she was helping us, she was winning. Darkness was going away, everything was clearing up, the Volcra- I was now falling. The Volcra that was carrying me had let go, I looked where it would have been standing and saw a blond mop of hair. Nikolai? I thought, before I could see who it was, I hit the ground hard and lost consciousness.

 I mustn’t have passed out long, since when I opened my eyes, the brightness was only dispersing. I stood up quickly, and looked around me, a naked body on the ground next to me. Turning their head, I gasped and tried to get them to wake up, “Nikolai! Nikolai, please wake up, for the love of Saints, wake up!” I took off my kefta and covered him the best I could, repeating his name over and over again. I knew he was still alive, I could feel it, but I was afraid to use my power in this state.

 The adrenaline coursing through my vein would make me fuck up, which I did not want. After a few moments, I heard groans and the man in front of me sat up, I moved the kefta to cover him properly. When I met his gaze, my heart stopped.

 He was exhausted. Covered in bruises, his hair messy, his gaze confused. “You’re back…” I whispered, reaching out for him, he took my hand in his and brought it to his chest, “Did you ever doubt it? I am well-versed in achieving the improbable.” He said with a grin, I stared at him in awe, feeling the tears welling up. I wiped them away before they could even roll down my cheeks, “I’ll admit I did, but I am relieved you’re alive,”

 He brought me in a tight hug, which I broke quickly as I leaned back and quirked a brow, looking at him insistently. He looked down at himself then back at me, “I do hope you are enjoying the view, gorgeous, it’s a sample of what you’ll get once we-“ “Your majesty! Are you alright?”

 And here, our moment got ruined. I stood up and was about to explain hat had happened, when Nikolai spoke, “The Volcra did not seem to enjoy my fashion sense, they ripped it to shreds. You have spare uniforms laying around, yes?” The soldiers nodded and led him to the tents set nearby.

 I waited until everyone left what remained of the Fold. The survivors returned to the camp, we counted our wounded, healers did their work. I saw Alina bring in a wounded man and noticed by the look in her eyes this was the person that mattered to her. She seemed different than before, she also kept her head low, as if she was hiding. So, I did not say anything.

 Nikolai had her brought in, they talked a long while, whilst my wounds were getting tended to.

 Part of me hoped they weren’t arranging a real marriage. I knew it was stupid, but I still thought it could still happen. My daydream was interrupted when the healer went for the gloves around my hands, I stopped him, “No need, there’s nothing-“ “I must check, I’ve taken care of everything but I have to be sure,” I did not want them to see, I tried to snatch my hand away and heard a throat clearing by the entrance.

 “The lady said no, out you go, I would like to have a word with her. No one is allowed, this is important matter,” Just like that, Nikolai had kicked the healer out of his own tent. I told him off, telling him he was making a scene and yet let him hold my hands gently as he looked at me without a word. The prettiest smile adorned his features, even as I berated him. When I was done, he smiled wider, “You are so beautiful when you’re passionately yelling at me,” “Nikolai,”

 “What’s with the gloves, dove?” he asked in all seriousness, his fingers grazing the edge of he long gloves. “I…” “May I?” He asked. I nodded. He pulled them off and saw the dark lines on my left arm, “It’s healed up, there’s just nothing they could do about that. I don’t know… I-“ “How did this happen? Tell me,”

 I paused then pulled him closer, “You did, but it’s alright, I forgive you- It wasn’t done out of malice or anything of that sort, I had tried to keep you closer but the-“ he ran his hands through his hair and apologized. He seemed to be truly regretting it, even though he was probably unaware of his own actions.

 “Nikolai, please, it’s nothing. It’s over,” I grabbed his hand and only now noticed he had the same marks as I did. His hands were covered in black threads almost. He looked at our intertwined hands a moment, “What if it’s not over?” Vulnerability, something the King rarely showed. “Then I’ll be here every step of the way,” He pulled me into a hug and stood there a moment.

 I broke the silence, adding, “It has some charms, don’t you think? It’s almost matching tattoos,” I said jokingly. The blond man laughed wholeheartedly as he leaned back, “I say it’d look even better with,” he grabbed my hand a slid a golden ring on my ring finger, “this, don’t you think it complements it?” I looked at it in bewilderment, gazing up at Nikolai. My hand went to the ear cuff he had offered me, he stopped me, “Keep it, I think Sturmhond would agree it suits you better than him,”

 I laughed. “I suppose we did win… I am still not fit to be Queen, and I am still very set on you being a complete fool for doing this,” I said calmly, but inside my heart was soaring. “It’s a lot of words to say yes, don’t you think?” He said teasingly, his hands cradling my face, “Let me try again,”

 He kissed my lips tenderly, “Will you marry me, gorgeous?”

 I nodded and pecked his lips softly, “Yes, my prince,”

 “I am actually a King now,” “Please Nikolai, just this once, shut up,”

 He leaned in, “Gladly,” and kissed me once more.

[shtern-and-art]

"Skeppy will probably cry" "Bad will probably cry". Bish, screw, that I am crying!!!

This whole thing was bloody gorgeous and I wasn't expecting that ending. I had no clue what ending to expect but that was definitely better than any I could have hoped for. Forest spirit to soulmate your honour!

I was terrified that you were gonna leave it at the point where he loses the spirit and becomes mortal again. If you had I would be actively sobbing!!!! And oh my god, the art!!! I still can't get over how wonderful your style is.

Imma ask fun things because if I don't I'll sit in a puddle of emotion all night:

What's the first tech thing Bad will buy and how annoying will he be about it? Poor Skeppy trying to answer 101 questions about something he doesn't really use XD.

Is no one concerned that the odd couple from a town they never name has a pet wolf??

Do they immediately go over to a different town or do they wander for a while. Find hidden creeks and befriend bears?

Does Bad still have a connection to nature and animals, like are creatures naturally more trusting of him?

Do they ever visit the og town again?

Does Skeppy still cause absolute chaos in other towns or has he learnt his lesson and only causes minor trouble now?

Does Bad ever try and study again? If he did what would he study and would Skeppy try to study as well?

Does Skeppy steal? I dunno, he just give off the vibe of a naughty lil trickster who'll pocket something if the owner refuses to sell it him.

Immediately after leaving the forest what the first 'argument' they have (not including the car one)?

Would they ever ride horse? If yes, how terrified would Skeppy be?

Skeppy falls outta tree. I don't know why but my mind keeps telling me that this man has great balance until he climbs trees. They are his mortal enemy and Bad finds this both hilarious and terrifying because he is going to hurt himself.

I had waaaaay more questions than I intended to have. My bad '^_^ but this story was way too much fun to read and you are entirely to blame for making it so engaging!

Make sure to take care of yourself and do stretches after and during drawing. You don't wanna hurt yourself <3

AaaaI’m so glad you liked it! :D And, dang, man, I cried while writing that part too :D

And I promised a nice ending for the main story, I did, and this one also makes the most sense narratively! For the story I wanted to tell, at least. Bad can’t really become human again, he’s changed to much. He can only move on, and do something with what he is, and has. And he did! :D That’s really nice and inspiring, this story will always have a place in my heart, heheh <3

Being a guardian spirit connected to a person and all, Bad may be not as strong as before, but he can’t die unless Skeppy dies first. And Skeppy can do that, but he’s pretty sturdy, and his lifespan operates on a whole other scale than human ones. And Bad knowing Skeppy’s real name balances it all out, makes them equal in the power and influence they have over each other.

So hellyeah, soulmates for the win :DDD

I’ll answer all questions under the cut, and this close up from one of the pages!

1) What's the first tech thing Bad will buy and how annoying will he be about it?

Probably a pager! Because it’s a more feasible thing to get than a wholeass computer Bad actually wanted :D An it means Skeppy will have to get one too, and that Bad will be having the time of his life texting him and everyone he can get a number from, even if they’re still in the room with him.

Poor Skeppy indeed, he can learn to appreciate the pagers, and later phones, too, and computers, but he really has 0 idea on how it all works and why Bad is so fascinated by it all.

2) Rat and regular people

Oh, she can shapeshift, just like Bad! If they’re out with people around, she takes form of a puppy, and Bad can pass her off as a weird mix breed rescue doggo.

3) Do they immediately go over to a different town or do they wander for a while?

Oh, since they have no end destination in mind, they can ride around for a bit, go visit some cool places and roadside attractions. Sadly, Skeppy is probably not spiritually or morally ready to full on befriend wild bears yet, and they do need money for gas and snacks. So, at some point they will have to stop somewhere and find work – at least for a bit, to save up. Life’s gonna be a bit complicated with all that, until Skeppy figures out his treasure-finding abilities :DD

4) Bad and nature and animals

He is definitely still in tune with all wildlife! Even more – Bad could become a proper guardian spirit for Skeppy in part because, in a way, Skeppy himself is part of the nature.

So yeah, Bad can understand animals (and plants) and communicate with them; they’re just more free to not take his shit, and Bad’s emotions do not “possess” them unless he makes an effort to do so.

He doesn’t like doing it, tho.

5) Do they ever visit the og town again?

Hm, I think they will completely forget about it for a while, until, like, 30+ years later they will be going somewhere, and find themselves around those parts. And they try to not appear too often in the areas they’ve spent a lot of time in already (they can be pretty recognizable, and also barely show signs of aging). But it’s been a long time, and the town’s really different now… So they make a stop, and spend a day there. They walk the unfamiliar streets between the new buildings, check out the popular hiking trail, the advertisements for hot springs and winter activities. The old cinema is still there, and is hosting an all-night marathon of classic horror movies of the last century.

Bad and Skeppy leave the town after sunset – the day was nice, but they have nothing more to do there. They ride through the forest on a well paved road, with radio playing something barely above the whisper. And in the dark of hot summer night, Bad can see the white stag running between the trees alongside their car. Shadows dance over the shimmering light of it’s fur.

Somewhere after the towns border, the stag disappears back in the forest. But the air in the car stays light and fresh, saving the smell of old pines and dry leaves all though the night.

6) Skeppy and chaos

Well, after the whole mess in the main story, Skeppy definitely learned some lessons, especially about not being a dick :D

But the thing is – he can’t really help the fact that things tend to stir up around him a lot. He naturally brings in chaos into everything, because he is, in part, a personification, or an outlet for it in the world. And so, to feel, well and good, and himself Skeppy gotta do stuff that disrupts balance, and creates some mayhem. And in gave him a lot of trouble in early life, but in the course of the main story he learned that he can chose were he lets that chaos to take hold, learned what can come of that chaos, apart from utter misery.

Like, where it can help dismantle something destructive, and where – bring in the more positive change, that was already brewing, possible, but is stagnant for some reason.

Soooo, I can’t say Skeppy causes only minor chaos in his life, but he sure learns even more about not being a dick :DDDD

7) The studying

I think Bad will want to get a higher education at some point, because he wanted to, and because it’s already new millennia and all that. Bet he’ll go for something very technical and/or literature. Maybe he’ll start by piking up some classes in small time colleges, when they stop in one place for a while, and later get into an online program, because why not.

Skeppy is not a college guy at all. He’ll listen to Bad talk about it, read textbooks if he wants to, can research stuff, buuut going to classes and doing homework is definitely not his thing.

8) Stealing

Well, you’re right, Skeppy can and will steal stuff out of spite! And will be scolded by Bad for it, and will not feel (that) sorry about it. But real stealer between them will be Bad himself :D

It’s just… he has the corvid tendencies, and a hoard (a box) of sentimental mementos from different people and events, and the thrill of stealing something small and harmless is very exciting. Bad is very proud of his little collection. Skeppy finds it very adorable, a bit hypocritical, and kinda creepy. Like, that pretty box he gifted Bad at some point is now full of stuff like:

- pressed flower from the clearing they had a picnic at on their anniversary

- the button the waitress lost that one day the storm caused a black out in the whole town

- some small animal bones

- couple pretty rocks Bad stole from Skeppy’s pockets

- penny that was once glued to the ground

- a handful of teeth people (and not people) lost in fights with Bad

- pen from some fancy hotel

- rainbow dash keychain that belonged to a child

- the list goes on

9) Argument

Oh, that same day they’ll fight over whether they should stay at the really crappy and suspicious looking motel, or go sleep in a perfectly fine forest near the road. Ironically, Bad wanted to try out the motel (because, yay, first time spending the night back in civilization), and Skeppy was the one insisting on sleeping in nature (because the motel looks like it could give you 10 diseases if you even stand near it, and sleeping in the forest is kind of nice, and means they can cuddle).

10) Horses

The guys will probably ride them at some point. Well, Bad will ride, and Skeppy will sit on his horse and hope it knows what to do and where to go, because trying to make this giant thing do something seems dangerous. If they’ll have to actually go somewhere fast, Skeppy will not survive that day, his butt (and legs) will be dead for days to come.

And riding with Bad on one horse may sound romantic and nice, but all romance dies when the gallop starts.

F.

11) Skeppy and climbing

Skeppy is more down to earth kind of guy, more of a “rocks and caves” kind of creature, real-life lizard person or something. Up on the trees and in the air – not really his element, yeah. But it doesn’t mean that Skeppy will accept this fact easy. The embarrassment of never managing to safely make it down a tree is too strong, he just has to do it all over again, and again. And again. Because, clearly, he was distracted this time. And the time before that Bad was teasing him, and it “disrupted his flow”. And, really, maybe these trees here just do not like Skeppy much, and make him slip a lot. Yeah.

So, more often than not, if Skeppy climbs a tree, he will not stop climbing it until he falls, or the tree ends. Bad had to take him off high branches couple times, forcefully, because, of course, Skeppy was sitting there for 2 hours just to properly enjoy the sunset. He can climb down at any point, he just Choses not to. The view is amazing. The bark is literally part of his skin now, not because he holds on tight, no, he’s just Than Much one with the nature )<

---

Don’t apologize for the questions! It’s always so fun to answer them, and it makes me think more about stuff I may have skipped, or didn’t think about before. It’s really nice :3c

Again, thank you for the ask, and for being here for this story! <3

(And I’ll try setting timers for rest breaks while I draw, mb that will help)

---

In The Dark - masterpost

[loveinterestcastiel]

erosion

I wrote some endverse fic based on a @lateral-org post asking a FANTASTIC question:

When/why/how did endverse! cas get rid of the trenchcoat and what was dean's reaction?

Rated M. Warnings: Graphic Depictions of Violence. Word Count: 4.1k

tagged some mutuals and people I thought might be interested in this under the cut, if you want tagged in this/future fic or want me to remove your tag dm me!

erosion

Of course, Sam said yes in Detroit. So why dream about that? He lived it every day. The redundancy was irritating at best.

Where the fuck did I leave my boots last night? Cas cursed under his breath and embarked on a thorough search of their cabin, the coarse words warm and familiar on his tongue as he yanked on his socks. I really am starting to sound like Dean.

Dean’s boots were already gone, his gun and thigh holster absent too. He’d left his green jacket behind, tossed carelessly aside last night and hidden under the trenchcoat on the floor at the foot of their bed. He slipped his coat on over his clothes and shoved Dean’s jacket into their pack- he knew he’d want it later, even if it was just for the drive back. He slipped on the worn coat, habit- he’d stopped wasting Grace on its upkeep a while ago, but it was still important. It felt like comfort, in some strange way, so he kept on wearing it despite the worn-through elbows or the stubborn little bloodstained spot on the hem.

He’d dreamed of Detroit, last night, again. He didn’t know if he’d ever get used to dreaming, as unsettling and involuntary as it was. It felt like the unfair hijacking of an otherwise enjoyable human bodily function, and he resented it altogether. He snagged a bit of weed from his stash and tucked it in next to his flask, sweeping out the cabin door and into the frigid morning sunshine, giving Chuck a lazy wave as he ambled past his cabin to the truck lot, kicking little pebbles across the packed dirt at imaginary targets with a super-human precision that grated strangely on him today.

“Big run today,” Chuck said with a tentative smile, his hands clasping a chipped mug filled to the brim with his ridiculously indulgent tea, wafting a cascade of steam out over the railing of his cabin porch before dissipating into the air. “Don’t forget the perishables if you can get at them, ok? We’re seriously low on-”

“Toilet paper, milk, cheese, butter,” he interrupted, “plus sugar, flour, canned fruit, hygiene products, toothpaste, toilet paper, coffee, meat if we can get it, .35 and 9mm ammunition, mechanical oil, gasoline, propane, rubbing alcohol, gauze, surgical tape, toilet paper, paracetamol, and oh, toilet paper again!” Cas recited dryly, rolling his eyes. “You gave us a written list yesterday. Twice. Couldn’t fuck up blackout drunk.”

Chuck snorted, shaking his head in self-deprecation. “Just doing my job, Cas.”

“We’ll do ours,” he called over his shoulder, continuing down the central path briskly. “We’ve all got our part to play.”

What was it Lucifer had said to Dean, that night Zachariah stole him out from under Cas’s nose and threw him into the future? No matter what choices you make, whatever details you alter… we will always end up here.

It certainly seemed like he was right. Most days, it seemed like they were all hurtling towards the exact same place Dean had caught a wretched glimpse of, once, with the brakes slashed and emergency failsafes offline, and no indicator that the impossible choices they were making every day were anything but inevitable. He knew that Dean still had nightmares about his ending, but he didn’t know much else about Dean’s nightmares anymore but what little snippets he could garner from what Dean mumbled and cried out in his sleep. He’d lost the ability to dreamwalk a while back. Three nights after the Croatoan virus wiped out Fort Worth and they were forced to fall back, he tried to enter Dean’s sleep to watch his dreams in the dubious refuge of a closed down Motel 6 off of interstate 70 as they ran west, to see if there was some piece of information they’d missed, some new choice they could make one day that could change the path they were on.

It simply hadn’t worked. He mourned the loss of one more skill in the darkness of their room that night as Dean slept uneasily in the bed beside him, one more thing which, in its absence, made him ever more useless to Dean, much like the loss of his ability to time travel, or to smite their enemies with ease. Flight was becoming difficult by the day, and he knew in some part of his mind that his wings would be the next to go, and he would be grounded, permanently, on Earth and not in Heaven.

And so it goes.

Anyway, it wasn’t like they had much of a choice about anything these days. Once Michael had taken Adam, they lost their only trump card. Heaven didn’t need Dean anymore, but Hell desperately needed Sam. It was a shame, it really was, that Sam’s gamble hadn’t paid off.

It was a miracle Lucifer let Dean go. He had brushed him off as a non-threat. Unimportant on a cosmic scale, however important Dean was to the vessel. To Sam. So Dean walked out of that run down building alive, and he was the most beautiful, terrible thing Cas had ever seen. His soul shone brighter than even an archangel’s grace in his rage and trembled with the fierce sharpness of grief, and it was glorious, righteous.

Godly.

Even as Cas’s memories softened and blurred, becoming tinged with a mortal haze, that memory of Dean remained in a sparkling clarity. He could imagine no life, no moldable version of the past, in which he did not choose Dean. From the very first moment his soul had reached back to cling to Cas’s Grace in Hell, Cas had fallen, was falling, would fall, for Dean. It was inevitable, his love. They were inevitable. They fell together in the time after Detroit, into battle, into bed, and into cosmic obscurity. Soon, too soon, their losses began to outnumber their wins, and they had to make more and more certain regrettable sacrifices just to stay alive. Cas was used to collateral damage, far more than Dean was, but whatever the other humans in their ragged camp believed of him, he wasn’t unaffected. Just the opposite, in fact. He had never felt anything before, not for billions of years, an incomprehensible existence of light and intent and obedience and war, and now he felt everything. That- not Dean’s disappointment, or the slow loss of his Grace, or his Father’s unyielding silence- was undoubtedly the worst part of becoming something like human.

Some days were better than others, of course. Some days he took precious little blue or white or green pills, all different shapes and sizes and he felt good. Numb, pleased, far away. Quiet. Others, fewer than the days he had his pills, he took shrooms, LSD. Molly, twice. Often he took nothing at all, craving the wicked pain and emptiness it created in him as his sobriety enhanced the ache his dwindling Grace left behind, needing the punishment to feel real before forcing himself into a tumultuous sleep after days spent horribly awake with half a bottle of rotgut sloshing in his stomach. He still liked joints, rolled meticulously, their verdant smoke curling up deliciously in his lungs and setting him up on a lovely little metaphorical cloud the best, and then, they were even more so lovely when he shared them with Dean. There was nothing, nothing like passing it between them, before transitioning into trading hit after hit between their mouths, brushing against his soft lips, breathing his air, watching Dean’s cheeks flush a stunning pink and holding tight to his deep golden hair, dragging him down into slow, languid kisses that desire deepened and turned into a precious sort of holy consumption as the high hit its stride in them both.

He was sober today, mostly, just riding out the last of some gorgeous pink pill from a nearly full bottle he’d just scavenged out a few days before. It made him feel floaty, focused, fearless. He felt almost like he did two years ago, before his reeducation stint in Heaven. Angelic. It was nice. He’d take another, later. Maybe Dean would want to take one, too, and they could fuck high out under the stars on their quilt again like they did last October and feel like the real Gods of this stupid little planet, on top of the world, on top of Dean, cradled in the soft embrace of his thighs, and worship each other.

Take that, brothers. Castiel smiled viciously at the sky. You’ll never fuck God like I have.

Standing impatiently among their motley caravan of vehicles in the sickly yellow light of a midwestern April morning sun, his back to Cas, Dean’s silhouette and the flashing imprint of his soul- the only one Cas could still see clearly- caramelized into a sweet union of tangible and not that pulled at his stomach and swept him into the siren song of Dean’s being and woke up the hungry creature that lived in his heart and craved DeanDeanDeanDean.

No one else was there yet, probably all still dicking around at the camp mess and drinking shitty chicory. His feet fell silently on the earth, leaving behind the sound of the universe and the vibrant humming of Dean’s soul- and oh, he hoped he could always hear that symphony, even when all the rest of his powers had run dry.

Just as he reached out to take Dean by the shoulder and turn him around, Dean moved with a sudden burst of energy, like a coiled snake striking out. He whirled around and met Cas’s eyes, took him by the neck and the waist, and kissed him. His lips moved with a gentleness that contradicted the intensity of the grip of his cold-fingered hands as they worked their way into his hair, wormed their way under his trenchcoat, and touched the bare skin they found where the hem of his t-shirt met his jeans. He met the kiss eagerly, licking teasingly at the seam of his lips, biting down gently and coaxing Dean into opening his mouth. He pushed Dean back until his back hit the nearest rusted army-green truck with a small thudding noise, pressing himself up against Dean and tugging on his hips so they were pressed flush against each other, the contact sending and electric thrill racing up his spine.

“Cas,” Dean gasped out at the sensation of their bodies meeting, the air punched out of his lungs.

“Mmm, morning,” Cas murmured between kisses. “You’re out here early.” Dean’s neck was uncharacteristically bare above the neck of his rough brown sweater, creamy and invitingly unmarked. Cas indulged in the impulse to change that, working his way over the tender skin, sucking and biting until a bruise began to bloom below the junction of Dean’s jaw and neck, worrying it with his teeth until it was a deep reddish-purple.

“Couldn’t sleep,” Dean whispered, letting his head fall back against the truck window, baring his throat further, and closed his eyes. He seemed almost happy, today. He seemed to light up in the lead-up to their more dangerous missions, and Cas didn’t want to think about that right now. Didn’t want to ruin the moment. “Didn’t want to wake you up,” Dean elaborated.

“I appreciate that.” Satisfied with the rather outrageous hickey he’d created on Dean’s neck, Cas pressed it with one last kiss. “How’d you know I was behind you?” he asked, pressing their foreheads together and slowly grinding their hips together lazily, just breathing Dean in.

“Felt you,” Dean said, bringing their lips together again briefly. “Always can.” One more little kiss.

“Dean, last night, when you couldn’t sleep, I dreamed again about Detroit-” Cas started to confess feverishly, almost against his will, Dean stiffening up at his words in his arms, and was interrupted by the sound of people approaching, footsteps, voices, and an earsplitting wolf-whistle directed at their compromising position.

Dean’s face shuttered immediately, and Cas felt every scrap of easy bliss flee his body.

He pulled back with more than a little reluctance, his stomach twisting as a fakely jovial grin tugged at the corners of his lips, and clapped Dean on the shoulder. “Let’s go, fearless leader. We’ve got a mission to run, don’t you know?”

“Don’t start with that fearless leader shit,” Dean said tightly, rolling his eyes away from Castiel’s face and fixing on a point somewhere over Cas’s shoulder. “Who’s driving?”

“Looks like Cas is driving,” Joe called out mischievously.

Risa smacked him in the chest. “Get in the truck, idiot.” She turned her gaze to Dean, an odd glint in her eye. It felt sticky and wrong in his core but Cas stamped the feeling down. “Group brief over the radio on the way?” she asked.

“Yeah, at 8,” Dean said, sliding into his unshakeable militaristic persona with a firm nod. “Should be fairly straightforward in and out supply grab. Intel says the Croats cleared out of Roanoke a couple days ago, left major infrastructure and commerce sites relatively untouched. It’s a good thing too,” he added, “we were getting spread a little thin with most goods.”

“Sounds easy enough.”

———————————————————————

It was not, in fact, easy.

Their intel was wrong, so wrong, and Cas didn’t know how the fuck it happened, but they were fine, they were almost finished, closing up the trucks in the alley behind the supermarket and waiting for Dean and Trish to return from sweeping the perimeter, when out of what seemed like thin air and with no more than a broken shout for warning there were more Croats swarming them than he’d ever seen in one place before, and Joe and Maya and Kris were dead, and Dean was nowhere to be found.

The Croats had the remaining seven pinned down against the main truck, snarling and screeching and reeking of blood and gore, strips of flesh and clothing that once adorned their companions now dangling from their teeth. Their single-minded need for the endless consumption of human flesh and that it was currently being denied drove them to a terrifying frenzy, but the hunters were starting to push back, and the Croat numbers were thinning slowly but surely. Cas thought he saw Allen get bitten, but next he glanced at him he looked fine. He’d need to check on that if they made it out alive. He resigned himself quickly to the idea of killing the man before they got back to Chitaqua- Allen was a nice enough man, quick-witted and skilled with a blade and a loom, but nothing was worth bringing a Croat back to camp. He owed it to the man as a human being to grant him a swift death if he’d been infected before Allen himself could realize it. A shot to the back of the head, unawares, had to be better than a clumsy battle and inevitable stab to the chest (Cas knew he would always have the upper hand against a human, even when he had fallen in full) with fear in his heart.

He buried his angel blade to hilt in yet another Croat’s throat, yanking it out and ducking out of the way of the spray of blood that followed in a well-practiced motion uncanny in its speed. They would win this one.

But still no Dean.

Cas felt a bubbly panic rise up in his chest through the haze of battle as it became clear to him that Dean wasn’t coming back. Even from the other side of the building or from inside, there was no way that Dean had not heard the commotion of such a large fight.

Something was stopping Dean from coming back to him.

“Risa,” he shouted over the din to the woman on his left. “Dean and Trish-”

“I know,” she interjected tersely, hacking the head off of a skeletally thin Croat in a tattered suit. “Retrieval? We’ve got this handled here as long as this all the fucking bastards around.”

“I’m going in,” Cas said quickly, slicing at a particularly bold (stupid) Croat trying to charge him. It crumpled to the ground and twitched once, and was still. Some of its companions fell on the body ravenously, and were subsequently cut down in turn as they began to tear at the corpse. “Leave as soon as you’re able; I’ve got the keys to the main truck. Cover your right,” he warned Risa, and, sensing an opportunity in the parting sea of Croats before him, ran.

He was through the service doors of the building before the Croat hoard could even begin to respond to his escape, and their noises were quickly muffled by the service door as it locked automatically behind him, leaving him in relative quiet.

There were a surprising number of crates and boxes remaining in the storage and unloading zones, either empty or nearly so, and he quickly ascertained the area was, apart from himself, devoid of life or anything of interest to the camp.

Cas.

Dean's sudden prayer hit him like a sledgehammer to the gut.

Aisle... his mental voice trailed off for a second into indistinct sounds, colors, and waves of pain. Aisle seven. It's bad.

Cas shoved through the access door into the freezers, and out into the store with a recklessness he would have been ashamed of had he been so terrified.

He turned down aisle seven and skidded to a halt, frozen at the sight that greeted him, and tried to make sense of the hideously macabre tableau.

Trish's decapitated body lay the furthest from him, her ribcage torn open, her organs spilling over her arms and scattered in pieces over the floor. Three dead Croats, all headshots, around her remains. Then a bloody lake on the cheap linoleum tile, thick and viscous and so, so red, two more dead Croats, clearly more hard-won victories, their arms hacked at, heads partially removed, and nearly blocking the last body from view, wedged up against the shelves and bloody as it was.

"Cas," Dean wheezed, lifting his head laboriously to meet his eyes, blood bubbling up between his lips and staining them. "Cas, I'm so sorry-"

"No, no, don't talk like that," Cas said desperately, kneeling beside Dean. He took their pack of his back with shaking hands and shoved his angel blade somewhere inside. "We can fix this. You'll be okay."

"Cas-"

"You will!" he said, too loudly and startling himself.

"My ribs," Dean panted out in pained little gasps. "Broken. There's something in my back." He twitched minutely as if to show Cas the problem and immediately convulsed involuntarily at the pain the movement caused him, a horrible rattling moan in his throat. "My leg. Right one. Broken too." His jaw was clenched so tightly it was a miracle he could speak at all through the teeth-grinding pain he was in.

"Okay," Cas said faintly.

Cas...

Oh, he hated feeling. Sometimes he thought it made him useless. He missed being cold. Brutal, uncaring about pain or death. But this was Dean, and he'd never actually been particularly good at being a machine, anyway. "Okay. Dean, I need to see your back," he warned him, before moving him as gently as he could and angling his body so that he could get an unobstructed view of his back.

There was a crude metal stake wedged just an inch to the left of his second and third thoracic vertebrae, rusted, twisted and cruel-looking.

"Dean, I- I have to try to heal you," he said slowly, knowing that Dean wouldn't want him to be wasteful with his Grace. But this was beyond what human field medicine could help.

Dean didn't respond. He'd fallen unconscious.

"Oh no, no, no, baby," he babbled under his breath, trying to figure out the best way to extract the bar of metal. "Hold on," he muttered, grasping the stake firmly and bracing Dean's body against his own, trying to avoid fucking his broken ribs up more.

"Father, please, if you're still here, if you're listening, if you care at all," he begged, "help me."

Of course, his Father didn't answer. Gritting his teeth, Cas yanked out the stake and tossed it aside, immediately covering the wound with his hand. He summoned his Grace together and it responded sluggishly, but his hand was glowing and Dean's back was knitting back together.

As the skin merged into a puckered, raw-looking pink scar, Cas dropped his hand away from the wound and found himself utterly breathless, gasping for air and drained.

Dean was still unconscious.

He leaned Dean back up against the shelving and took a moment to figure out what to do next. Dean was still dying. He was still in danger. He couldn't be moved, nor could they stay put. He quickly opened up their pack and realized in horror that all the medical supplies were with Risa and AJ on the trucks and so, so far away by now.

He yanked his coat off with a twinge of regret. It was bloodied and worn and what he was about to do with it felt like a milestone he was loathe to reach.

He shredded it into long, wide strips, not letting himself think of how it was the last piece of Jimmy Novak, or how he had repaid the man's sacrifice by being party to the end of the world they both wanted to protect, or how Claire Novak had stopped praying to him weeks ago, now. He got on with the job, this is just a job, I can fix this-

He managed to wrap Dean's leg up decently tight, straight and stiff, but he had quickly discovered it was broken in several places. He didn't know what he could do for Dean's ribs, and he felt, as if from a distance, how Dean's breath was coming shallower and shallower, and he made his choice.

He laid his left hand on Dean's broken leg, as gently as he could. Leaning forward, he smoothed the wispy little baby hairs he loved to tease Dean about back, off his sweaty, pained, precious face, and, placing his right hand on Dean's crushed ribs, near his heart, touched their foreheads together. He looked at Dean's soul, his shining, beautiful (fading) soul and knew.

"I love you," Cas whispered, his voice wrecked. With that finally said, he grabbed his exhausted, weary Grace, and though it fought him and slipped through his grasp, he got hold of it and he pushed everything he could, everything he was into his hands, into Dean.

When he had done it, when he had drained himself down to mists and vapors, and had saved Dean, he gathered him in his arms, and carried him back to the truck on numb feet, leaving the scraps of Jimmy's coat behind in aisle seven.

When the truck broke down thirty miles from Chitaqua, and their radio too, he turned to Dean, pulling on a blue-ish jacket they'd picked up earlier during the run. It fit well.

"It's a good look for you," Dean said gruffly, staring at Cas with an expression he could not recognize. There was blood still smeared on his cheekbone, he noted absently.

"Oh. Yes. Well, thank you," Cas answered, adjusting the sleeves.

Dean tugged at the tan fabric strips on his leg, wincing at the pressure.

"You did a good job, Cas. With this fabric splint from your coat-"

"I know you won't be able to walk it," Cas said quietly, unable to meet his eyes even as he interrupted him. "I did what I could, but you'll be weak for days. You need time."

"You can leave me, Cas," Dean said, a strange, pinched guilt-pain-tenderness on his face. "You can come back for me."

"No," Cas said, smiling, and choking, and took Dean's cheek in the palm of his hand with a terrible ache rising in his throat. "I can't."

April 19th, 2012, under the peak of the Lyrids meteor showers, Cas flew for the last time, right up to the gates of the camp.

When they landed, a millisecond and millennia later, his wings burned away into nothingness in a wave of electric, minty-white pain that forced him to the ground. In the aftermath, panting and sweating and shaking in Dean's arms and clutching at his handprint on Dean's shoulder, he realized his Grace, or what was left of it, anyway, had consolidated into a bright little ball in his chest. Like a soul.

The realization was followed by another. Despite his earlier conviction that it would one day be lost to him, he could still see Dean's soul- behind his teeth, in his chest, radiant like a halo around his head, and worth, a million times over, and a million again, falling for.

Tagged:

@heller-jensen @sunforgrace @rambleoncas @adhdeancas @evermorecastiel @holmesemrys @plantdadcas @good-things-do-happen-dean @jeanne-de-valois @autisticandroids @sonder-stars @yana125 @faithcastiel @cascreamtiel @seffersonjtarship @i-sing-for-me @purgatorybi @bibelphegor @cowboyslikedean @gracefuldean @dimples-of-discontent @judaskissdean @wafflehousegothic @icaruscastiel @67chevyimpala67 @lesbianjenderenvy

[brennenscolby]

The Rush | Taeyong

Summary: Ruthless criminal Lee Taeyong has had his eye on you for quite a while now. After playing cat and mouse games around Neo City, what happens when he finally captures you?

Pairing: Lee Taeyong (Villian!) x reader (Hero!)

Genre: DarkFic, Demon/Psychopath AU, 2-part series

Warnings: mentions of blood/gore, guns, knives, violence, yandere tendencies, demonology, obsession, smut/bdsm (incoming chapters), handcuffs, consensual sex

————

Crazed, polychromatic eyes glowed in the shadows from afar.

He knew what he was doing.

And he knew his actions would seek you out.

You stumbled to the ground, knees aching from the unexpected shove you had sustained to the waist. Instantly, you fell into a frenzy of emotions, blurred vision following suit.

It's only been a few minutes since you arrived, and everything was already at complete disarray.

Grey clouds contorted around the dark and gloomy sky as people scrambled in random directions, senses desperately fluttering into fight or flight mode. Grabbing your aching head, you took a deep breath to calm yourself while simultaneously muffling out the overwhelming chaos from your surroundings. After a moment of simple white noise, you looked up, the sudden echo of screams and shouts yanking you away from your brief serene state.

Buildings trembled feverishly as explosions resonated down the main district of Neo City. Bloody, splayed corpses rested on the cold concrete ground, displaying the work of an evil-doer.

With realization finally sinking in, you stood up, separating yourself from the frightened bodies. Determination quickly replaced your confusion, leaving you set on holding whoever created this disaster, accountable. Stumbling about, you silently thanked your lucky stars as you had happened to be appropriately dressed for the unexpected occurrence. However, even with that in mind, you couldn't say you were happy with the ongoing destruction around you. Being a heroine, you expected the city to be at peace for at least a day, but it seemed that would never be possible. Especially when a specific someone had broken out of Neo City's most isolated asylum.

Running a plan over in your head, you backed away, startled by the abrupt shadow which had secluded your vision and disappeared just as quickly as it came. Bringing a white, gloved hand to your face, you shielded your eyes away from the burning sun to specifically target what was infront of you. Now fully paying mind to the evening sky, you squinted at the city's tallest building, spotting something a little out of the ordinary.

There, you could faintly make out a relaxed figure, one way too relaxed to have blistering explosions happening around them.

It was him.

The only man who could ever infuriate you while simultaneously making your heart painfully skip a beat.

Your breath stuttered for a second before regulating in an instant. It was clear awareness had settled upon you a little too late.

You should've known.

Sweat rolled down your temple as you grew uneasy, failing to make out what he carried from the distance. Based on this fact, you assumed he couldn't see you, -which relieved your worries for a split second-, but, karma proved you wrong, for, he was more than prepared to nonchalantly jump off a four hundred and twenty five building without breaking a single bone.

Rising to his full height, his clear, emerald and amtheyst coat fluttered behind his form, almost as if to give him a god-like appearance. The impact of his landing was enough to make heads turn, forcing terrified civilians to screech even louder than before.

He sauntered down the street as bodies rushed passed him, fear-stricken faces resisting the urge to even take a glance at his gorgeous yet deadly visual. He was psychotic, insane was what he was, and yet,

He was the man who had stolen your heart.

Blonde, chartreuse and violet hairs fluttered over his domino patterned harlequin mask from his smoothly combed up-do, plaguing you with the mystery of his true facade and who he really was. Sharp, chocolate-colored eyes bore into yours innocently, almost as if to hide away the atrocities surrounding you.

Your eyes darted down to the gun holsters around each of his sides, notably spotting poisonous bullets you were all too familiar with. From your peripheral vision, you could see his hand sneakily fall down onto a firearm, further making you feel threatened and powerless.

But none of that could compare to when he sharply proceeded towards you.

Placing a white gloved hand onto your hip, you sleathily pulled your shimmering white sword from your pouch, bringing it forward to demandly aim it his way, only for it fall flat against his strong, gloved, vice-like grip. Nonetheless, you kept a poker face on, yet, even with this, you couldn't help but feel as your blood ran cold in alarm. The criminal clicked his teeth in annoyance, before rolling his neck around, the action being similar to that of a snake coiling it's tail. You grunted in response, already irritated with the first few seconds of your interaction. Your teeth brushing painfully close to each other with every bit of strength you mustered as you clenched them tightly,

“What is this? A game to you?"

"Perhaps", were the first few words he spoke, aiming his hooded gaze down at you. Just the simple sound of his tone sent tremors down your spine, reminding you of the sweet affectionate words he would use excessively to get a reaction out of you, “You can end all of this, princess. And you know how",

You locked yourself into a staring match at his response, insistent on standing your ground. His eyes which had been a beautiful dark brown, turned completely black, engulfed by the demonic possession in him. Just before he could channel his own demonic necromancy, you raised a hand,

"I will never let you win. No matter what."

Your thoughts raced from your head to your mouth, faster than you could even comprehend. For a second, you almost second guessed yourself for providing an answer to his unsolicited question.

Lee Taeyong, as he called himself, narrowed his eyes at you, swallowing thickly. With the tension heightening by the second, you almost could've sworn you saw pitch black energy radiate off his form, “We'll see about that, angel", were the last words he murmured, before bringing you terror like never before.

-

You raced down the street, heart pounding from the adrenaline that filled your veins. All of your white energy faded away, overshadowed by the criminal's powerful aura. You knew Lee Taeyong had been mixed into some bad things, but you never thought he was a full-on demon. With that in mind, you weren't too sure of what you would do as he had you exactly where he wanted you.Crouching down against a wall, you found yourself cornered in a pitch black alleyway. Your sword, which ran useless without your abilities, left you powerless. You had nothing to defend yourself aside from the last bits of fate and hope you clung onto.

A dark chuckle chastised you, only growing stronger and louder as it neared your cowering form, “I know where you are, my love. There's no point in hiding."

His shadow stretched across the brick wall adjacent to him, forming what seemed to look like a creature with horns, rather than the human he was reported to be. You stood from the hidden spot, finding the least bit of strength to stand your ground against him, even without abilities to aid. Just as you moved into a fighting stance, his footsteps suddenly ran quiet, leaving behind an ominous silence. Slowly but surely, you turned your head around, only to find the psychopath directly behind you. Your body suddenly pressed against the brick wall you had hidden behind, his own firm chest possessively trapping the rest of your torso from escape. His cold, gloved hands snaked around your waist, holding you steadily and firmly in place, “Found you", he uttered, that mysterious, glowing masked face of his, dangerously close to yours. The onyx of his eyes reflected demonic possession as the rest presented small specks of red, hinting at promiscuous intent,

"Hide and seek was never really a challenge with you, sweetheart", You twitched in surprise, feeling as his soft lips, just gently, but swiftly, pressed against the cold skin between the juncture of your neck and shoulder. His mask slightly grazed your cheek, creating a warming sensation followed by the heavy breathing of his hot breath grazing your throat,

“And it would never be", he whispered ominously. His hands rested gently on your hips, before greedily gripping the skin to pull you even closer. Just before you could close your eyes and give into his desires, you shoved him back, sending seeps of white energy burning into his skin from your touch. He hissed, clutching his shoulder with a strangled grunt. Just as he opened his mouth to retort, you reached out, smacking a hard hand across the brick wall before rounding the corner at an impeccable pace and darting off to your safe spot as quickly as possible.

A/N: Feel free to leave comments (including how trash it might’ve been) ^_^

[drowningbydegrees]

This is my @thewitchersecretsanta gift for @kat-atomic, who mentioned liking modern AU’s with witcher powers etc. and humor. I hope this delivers! Thank you so much @goodheavensgwen for betaing this! <3 Note: This is largely fluffy and ridiculous, but there’s some canon typical mention of blood and injury.

Read on AO3

There are very few things Jaskier can genuinely say he enjoys about working the night shift at the diner. There’s the 3 a.m. rush of customers when all the bars close who usually tip pretty decently. There’s the fact that Triss, the night manager, doesn’t mind if he spends his downtime writing music when his sidework is done. And there’s the occasional regular Jaskier finds himself enamored with.

Like the one on the sidewalk just outside, for instance, who Jaskier privately suspects is some sort of cryptid. With good reason! He only ever seems to turn up in the quietest part of Jaskier’s shift. He doesn’t look old by any stretch of the imagination, and he doesn’t strike Jaskier as the sort to commit to any sort of high maintenance beauty regimen, all of which is at odds with the silvery white hair that falls just a touch past his shoulders. If the hair weren’t noteworthy enough, his unnaturally gold eyes are haunting, like nothing Jaskier has ever seen. Not that he means to look, mind you, but they’re the kind of thing that sticks with Jaskier long after the man is gone. Appearances aside, there’s something about this particular customer that discourages questions and he always pays with cash, so despite coming in on a somewhat regular basis over the last year and a half - not often enough that Jaskier can work out any sort of pattern, but enough that there’s a table Jaskier has more or less decided is his - Jaskier doesn’t even know his name.

The blood is new though.

“Holy mother of- Are you okay?” Jaskier asks when he looks up and sees the man trudging through the door. Is that a limp? It’s hard to tell if he’s hurt or just exhausted. It seems like maybe hurt because that’s definitely blood matting his hair. Probably. Jaskier vaguely remembers hitting his head on the slide when he was little and it looking a bit like that, anyway. And if that’s blood, it suggests that the substance making the guy’s shirt stick unnaturally to his body is also blood, which kinda tracks with the fact that one of the sleeves is ripped to shreds.

The guy freezes, leaving Jaskier with the distinct impression that he’d hoped to come in unnoticed. As much as Jaskier enjoys listening to his gravelly voice, there’s nothing comforting about the reply. “It’s not mine.”

“Right. Okay. That’s- That’s a completely normal and not concerning thing to say. Also, I’m going to go ahead and call bullshit because your arm is… umm. Oh fuck! Your arm. Just, uhh… hang on a sec, okay?” Jaskier rushes off to the kitchen for the diner’s first aid kit, a few bar towels, and, after a hurried explanation to Triss, one of the work uniform button down shirts. First aid isn’t something that was really covered in training, but leaving someone bleeding in the foyer is almost certainly some kind of health code violation. Whatever the case, not wanting his favorite customer to bleed to death in the middle of his shift wins out over entertaining the notion that said customer might possibly be dangerous.

The foyer is empty when Jaskier returns, which admittedly makes more sense than the guy having stayed put. He’s undeniably mysterious, but he doesn’t seem unhinged enough to just wander in here like that without some kind of reason. Jaskier pokes his head into the restroom, assuming the man has gone there and… isn’t wrong. It’s just that he’s also not in a state of dress Jaskier would expect in a public space. The tattered remains of his shirt sit in the sink, and without the fabric to hide it, the gashes at the back of his shoulder, just where it meets his arm, are rather prominent. Oddly, that quells any real concern Jaskier might have had about what events led him here because they look like claw marks rather than anything human. Equally prominent are a really quite alarming number of other scars that litter the man’s back and chest from what Jaskier can see in the mirror.

The man has never struck Jaskier as particularly polite. He speaks very little. He never smiles. He always looks vaguely put upon when Jaskier tries to be nice to him. So it’s strangely endearing to see that, despite Jaskier being pretty sure he communicated he’d be right back, the man still looks sort of surprised to see him. That surprise only grows more visible when he sees the supplies Jaskier is holding. “I thought you might want to get cleaned up.”

The look the man gives him, like he’s expecting some kind of catch, makes Jaskier’s chest ache. Honestly, who does he interact with that getting help when he’s clearly injured is… not the expectation? The guy offers a quiet thanks that is very, very at odds with the whole possible (but probably not) serial killer vibe he’s got going on at the moment when Jaskier sets the supplies on the counter and starts to head back for the door.

“Do you need me to call someone for you… uh, sorry, I don’t actually know your name,” Jaskier finds himself asking, not sure why he can’t bring himself to just leave.

In the mirror the man’s brows crinkle in confusion, or maybe exasperation and he shakes his head. “No.”

“Are you sure?” Jaskier asks, watching the man awkwardly try to balance a pad against his wounded shoulder and wrap gauze around it without nearly enough hands. “It kinda looks like those might need stitches.”

“I said no.” Definitely exasperation this time, probably at Jaskier, but maybe also at his current predicament. Tape would be better than the roll of gauze, but there isn’t any.

“Right. Okay…” The reasonable thing to do would be to go back to work and just leave the guy to it. It’s not his job. They don’t know each other. The guy’s insistence on not wanting him to call for assistance should probably be suspicious. But, Jaskier has never done the reasonable thing once in his entire life and he doesn’t intend to start now. If he can’t get the guy actual, maybe qualified assistance, he also can’t bring himself to walk away. “Can I help?”

The man shifts in obvious discomfort, but eventually he concedes with a terse nod. He silently holds the pad against his shoulder while Jaskier unrolls the gauze and tries very hard to keep his eyes mostly averted. It’s that or Jaskier is going to end up ogling the guy’s quite frankly gorgeous everything and this really doesn’t seem like the time for that.

“Geralt,” the man says sort of out of the blue as Jaskier winds the gauze around the injury. It startles Jaskier into looking up. “My name.”

“Oh!” Geralt. Jaskier repeats it in his head. It’s nice to finally have a name to go with Geralt’s unfairly pretty face. He’s being rude though, Jaskier realizes, and shakes his head and ties off the bandaging. “I’m Jaskier.”

“I know,” Geralt says softly, like it’s some sort of confession.

Right. Of course. He’s probably introduced himself a dozen times. But customers usually forget his name, so it makes Jaskier smile anyway.

“So… Geralt. I don’t want to pry or anything.” The way Geralt tenses, Jaskier is sorry for opening his mouth. But, contrary to what everyone else in his life seems to think, he is not entirely without a self-preservation instinct. He’s not blind to how weird this whole situation is, even though he’s pretty sure Geralt didn’t actually kill anyone. “Did something happen? You’re not in some kind of trouble, are you?”

“No.”

“Right.” It seems whatever strange set of circumstances made Geralt inclined to talk to him has passed. “Well, that’s illuminating.”

Geralt’s expression scrunches like he’s just bitten into a lemon. “It’s not important.”

Inexplicably, that hurts. Not for his own sake. Geralt has no reason to confide in Jaskier specifically. It’s just that it seems like Geralt’s default assumption that he won’t be trusted, coupled with literally everything else Jaskier has seen tonight, paints a sort of lonely, heartbreaking picture. Or, maybe that’s just Jaskier’s inner poet talking. He’s never entirely certain. All the same, he offers what he hopes is a friendly smile. “Suit yourself, but you should know if you don’t tell me, I’m going to make something up and it will be absolutely ridiculous.”

Geralt’s expression smoothes out into a careful sort of indifference. Jaskier is sort of tempted to linger, but there’s really no excuse, and the longer he stays, the more likely Jaskier is to say something that’s just going to embarrass them both. Reluctantly, he steps away. “Well, I’ll just, you know, leave you to it.”

***

By the time Jaskier comes back out into the dining room, Triss looks like she’d been about thirty seconds away from coming in to check on them herself. As he assures her that it’s not actually as bad as he’d first thought, and no she really doesn’t need to call an ambulance or anything, Jaskier finds himself very, very glad he had been in too much of a rush to share his initial concerns with her or he suspects this conversation would be going very differently.

But Triss lets things be, and Jaskier tries to get back to normal.

It’s very convenient, Jaskier thinks, that Geralt always orders the same thing. In retrospect, that might be because he’s some kind of world champion at avoiding conversation at all costs, but Jaskier assumes he’s just a creature of habit. Probably. Either way, Jaskier puts in an order and pours a cup of coffee, glad for something to busy himself with while he waits.

Much to Jaskier’s surprise, Geralt looks more or less himself when he emerges from the restroom. His hair is wet, probably from rinsing the mess out of it, but with long sleeves covering the gash Jaskier had patched up, only the slight unevenness in his step gives away that anything is wrong at all. That and the heavy sigh he breathes out when he finally sits down in the diner booth. Jaskier has heard that one before and wonders if Geralt makes a habit of coming in here when he’s hurting or if that sigh is just one born of exhaustion.

Geralt’s expression does a funny thing when he sees the coffee mug. It might be surprise, but Jaskier can’t think for the life of him why. “Thank you.”

It’s the same quiet, sort of reluctant tone Geralt had thanked him with earlier, and dear lord is no one ever just kind to him or something? Nevermind that this is literally Jaskier’s job. He wants to ask, but he can’t imagine the question going over well, so Jaskier leans against the side of the bench opposite Geralt and smiles, gesturing at the uniform shirt. “It’s a good look. You might have a real future here.”

By some miracle, that pulls what Jaskier thinks might be a smile from Geralt. It’s a small, subtle thing like Geralt isn’t quite certain how the expression fits on his face, and gone almost immediately, but it was there, if just for a second. “I’ll keep it in mind if I ever need a new line of work.”

“I mean, if my line of work tore up my wardrobe like that, I’d probably have noped out already,” Jaskier jokes.

“Hmm,” Geralt replies, staring resolutely into his coffee mug.

“So, I gotta ask,” Jaskier ventures when a few seconds pass and Geralt doesn’t glare at him for lingering. “Not that I mind, but there are like, a dozen places I’d be more apt to patch myself up than a diner bathroom.”

“Everything else is closed,” Geralt says from behind his mug, amber eyes briefly fluttering shut.

“Of course. That explains… Wait. That doesn’t explain anything. There’s literally a hospital two miles down the road. I’d probably-” Jaskier pauses when Geralt’s eyes crack open again, fixating on him. Something about it makes Jaskier far less certain of what he’s saying, and it comes out with a questioning sort of uptick at the end. “You know, try… there?”

“They don’t tend to be keen on my kind,” Geralt replies gruffly.

Jaskier has no idea what that means. “Uhh… uninsured?”

“A witcher.” Geralt glowers at Jaskier, but he says the word like it’s physically painful, a mouth full of broken glass.

Jaskier has never met a witcher, he’s pretty sure, but he’s heard the stories, same as everyone. Witchers are supposedly nearly as dangerous as the creatures they hunt, more monsters than men and never to be trusted. They’re not quiet and unobtrusive and startled by acts of kindness, surely. So, either Geralt is not what he seems or the stories are bullshit, and given the way this particular witcher looks like he’s braced for a blow, Jaskier is willing to bet it’s the latter.

Jaskier can’t help wanting to understand what kind of life Geralt must live that this is where he ends up in the small hours of the morning, injured and seemingly alone. It makes him privately furious, but somehow he doesn’t think the spectacle will be appreciated, even though it’s on Geralt’s behalf. Maybe especially because it’s on Geralt’s behalf, judging by the efforts the witcher goes to to be unobtrusive. So, Jaskier doesn’t say the first thing that comes to mind about how rotten humanity is. Instead, he says the second thing that comes to mind, which is equally unfortunate. “Well, that explains your eyes.”

Geralt’s expression goes stormy, and Jaskier only belatedly realizes he must have taken that as an insult. But about the time Jaskier opens his mouth to explain, Geralt seems to gather that he might have misunderstood. His brows crease as he looks at Jaskier, as if trying to puzzle something out. “What about them?”

“They’re beautiful,” Jaskier blurts out, which, oh that was not what he meant to say at all. Melting through the floor would be great about now. Or maybe disappearing entirely. Really, anything but standing here with Geralt staring at him like he’s grown a second head. Scrambling for an excuse to leave that won’t look like he’s running away - even though he definitely is - Jaskier forces a smile, taking a step backwards. “I’ll just… go get you some more coffee.”

Suddenly discovering his escaped sense of self-preservation, Jaskier doesn’t come back with coffee. His curiosity is tempered by embarrassment, so he stays away until Geralt’s order is up and he has an actual legitimate reason to drift back to the guy’s table. Jaskier does his best to straddle the line between friendly and professional as he sets down the plate. He has every intention of leaving Geralt to eat in peace, so Jaskier startles a little when Geralt speaks up before he can leave. “It was a basilisk.”

“A… like the ‘turn you into stone’ kind of basilisk?” Jaskier turns back and sort of wishes he hadn’t because Geralt looks rather sorry for having said anything.

“That’s just a myth. They don’t do that,” Geralt counters. Jaskier waits for him to expound on that further, but he doesn’t.

Jaskier has never seen a basilisk either, so it seems entirely natural to ask, “Then, what do they do?”

A funny thing happens. To Jaskier’s complete and utter surprise Geralt talks. Not in the teeth pulling miserable way he’s said most everything else, but like it’s a conversation he genuinely doesn’t mind having. Jaskier keeps half an eye on the door, but it’s Monday night, so it’s no great surprise that no one else comes in.

In the absence of other customers to tend to, Jaskier eventually just slides into the seat across from Geralt to listen. It’s not subject matter that Jaskier has ever considered, but it’s interesting if only for how it relates to Geralt. Huffing out a laugh, Jaskier cuts in. “To hear you tell it, people are as stupid and superstitious as they are… unkind. I suppose next thing you’ll be telling me is that vampires don’t actually burn up in the sunlight.”

Geralt pinches the bridge of his nose and sighs for definitely not the first time tonight. Honestly, Jaskier is coming to be just a bit fond of it. “They don’t.”

“Wait, really?”

Jaskier is thrilled to discover he doesn’t even have to press for details. Before he knows it, he’s learned more about vampires than he even thought there was to know. Along with fiends, leshens, and what might possibly be the entire list of contracts Geralt has taken in the last month. There’s a consistent thread through all of it that leaves Jaskier warm and maybe a bit embarrassed that he’d ever thought Geralt could be dangerous. “You don’t talk about them like they’re things you kill.”

“I don’t if I can help it. It’s not their fault humans sprawl out into the places they live.” Geralt thumbs at the handle of his coffee mug, staring at the contents that have long since gone cold.

Desperate to drive off the strange sense of melancholy creeping in, Jaskier grasps for some other direction he can steer the conversation. Hastily, he runs through what Geralt has talked about already, and gets a bit stuck on a concerning thought, given how often the witcher is here. “So, are there a lot of monsters around here?”

Crisis averted, Jaskier thinks. Geralt’s shoulders tense across the table, but at least he doesn’t seem sad anymore. “Not really.”

That really just brings more questions than it answers. “Oh, well that’s a relief, I guess. I’d hate to be out hiking and get eaten by a noonwraith or something.”

“Noonwraiths don’t live in forests. Don’t even live, really. They’re...” Geralt makes a face that Jaskier assumes means he’s caught on that it was a joke. That said, Jaskier admires his commitment to finishing anyway. “More like trapped spirits.”

“You’re the expert,” Jaskier says agreeably, not quite managing to stifle the urge to laugh. “So what is it that keeps bringing you here, then? Do witchers have territories or something? Do you live around here? Actually, no. That’s a stupid question. If you lived around here you wouldn’t have wound up here like that…”

He expects the look of annoyance he seems to have gotten very good at drawing from Geralt so far. What he doesn’t expect is the way Geralt’s gaze darts away, looking at pretty much anything but Jaskier. “No.”

“No what?”

“All of it. This is just on the way to a lot of the places I end up,” Geralt clarifies with a heavy sigh. It’s a lie, Jaskier is pretty sure, because this podunk down isn’t really on the way to anywhere, and the rest of Geralt’s answer confirms as much. “... ish.”

“The coffee isn’t that good,” Jaskier teases. He doesn’t get it, but he does like Geralt, no matter how taciturn the witcher might be.

“It’s not.” Geralt tenses where he sits, and Jaskier thinks maybe he ought not to have pressed. As strange as today has been for him, it’s probably been awful for Geralt. Only Geralt doesn’t look upset. If anything, he ducks his head, a bit sheepish, muttering something under his breath.

Jaskier doesn’t even realize he’s leaned in closer until Geralt’s eyes widen just a fraction. “Sorry. I didn’t catch that.”

The way Geralt scowls, not at Jaskier but just in general, he thinks he’s not going to get an answer. He especially doesn’t think he’s going to get this particular answer, and yet Geralt very abruptly surrenders. “I don’t come here for the coffee.”

Oh. Jaskier bows his head to hide the smile that tugs at his lips. Somehow, it’s comforting to think that Geralt, who faces down monsters and seems generally put together is as awkward as he is. So much so that it takes him a second to even realize Geralt is maybe flirting with him. Definitely trying to judging by the vaguely terrified, deer in the headlights expression on the witcher’s face.

“I’m much better off the clock.” Jaskier immediately slaps a hand over his mouth, but it’s far too late. This is the point where Geralt realizes he’s made a terrible mistake. This is the moment where he decides maybe not to come back.

Whatever Jaskier expects, it’s not Geralt’s laughter, a surprised huff that sprawls out into something more concrete. It’s the loveliest sound Jaskier thinks he’s ever heard, and he can’t even bring himself to mind that it’s a little bit at his expense. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

Before Jaskier can say anything, flirtatious or otherwise, there’s the familiar chime of someone coming through the door. Not that he needs the door to alert him. The raucous laughter does a good job on its own. That’d be the 3 a.m. crowd.

“I should… get back to work,” Jaskier reluctantly concedes and he’s pretty sure he doesn’t imagine the faintly disappointed look on Geralt’s face.

“Jaskier,” Geralt murmurs just as Jaskier is about to leave, softly enough he almost misses it. When he turns to look, the witcher’s jaw works for a moment before he says, “Thank you. For all this.”

“Any time,” Jaskier replies, not entirely surprised to find he means it. Even if nothing comes of their newfound camaraderie, maybe he’ll get a song out of it or something.

The 3 a.m. rush keeps him busy after that, and Jaskier only really makes it back to Geralt’s table to refill his coffee and bring him the check. By the time things slow down, Geralt is out the door, which is a good thing, honestly. He’s gotta sleep some time, Jaskier supposes.

Jaskier watches Geralt’s car disappear before he goes to clean up the table. As always, Geralt has left everything neatly stacked (yet another reason he’s Jaskier’s favorite customer). There are a few bills, and it’s only as he’s pocketing them that he notices writing on the receipt Geralt left behind.

A phone number is scrawled across the slip of paper, but it’s the note underneath that makes Jaskier grin as he pockets it for later.

Just in case you run into any noonwraiths in the woods.

(Fic Masterpost)

[lazaefair]

Has anyone done the Disney Princess AU yet

Part 1 - written by me, @poemsingreenink, and @iwritesometimes

poemsingreenink: Like, if anyone has big, soft innocent eyes it's Marwan who I swear to god looks near happy tears in most intense scenes. I at one point during Aladdin in theaters thought "You know Jafar's maybe just not had a great life. He's really having a day here." BECAUSE OF HIS BIG SOFT EYES.

lazaefair: LUCA MARINELLI HIMSELF SAID IT

sarah: HOWWWWW DID HE EVEN GET CAST AS JAFAR LIKE THOSE ARE DISNEY PRINCESS EYES

lazaefair: I...I need somone to draw Joe in a Disney Princess dress

sarah: but WHICH PRINCESS i feel like belle's off the shoulder gold ballgown has promise

lazaefair: Ariel’s pink gown would really drive the point home, though Although you’re right, Belle is a literate, dreamy brunette who loves poetry, so she’s closer as an archetype

sarah: i'll be honest: i was mostly thinking of getting his shoulders nude

lazaefair: Nicky is Ariel. Big blue eyes, otherworldly, utterly uncivilized.

sarah: YES

So imagine: Prince Yusuf, who had a giant statue of himself gifted to him on his birthday, and who hates it because his best friend (and immortal general of the army) Andromache is NEVER GOING TO LET HIM LIVE IT DOWN.

Also imagine: feral merman siren Nicolò who bites off fishheads and communicates through weird clicking noises, when he’s not singing men to their deaths. He’s not one of those useless pretty koi mermaids, no. He’s a motherfucking creature of the deep. Lamp eyes that are used to distract fish prey. Claws and pale fins and an intense stare and fangs.

Now imagine: Prince Yusuf going overboard in the storm that hits his royal yacht. Struggling, swept away, half-drowned and losing hope fast when an unearthly song fills the air, low and sweet and compelling. He’s swimming towards the singing before he realizes it, delirious, until something closes around his ankle and drags him under. The thing under the water kills him quickly.

And then kills him again, when it doesn’t take. After the third killing, Nicolò’s on his way to being well and truly mystified (“Okay, don't panic. They all die eventually, maybe...maybe I’ll just need to do it again?”) and gives up after the fourth and fifth killing. He drags his (attempted) prey to a little sheltered island he knows about, kills it one last time just to make sure, and then watches, resigned, as the flesh heals up and the lungs push water out until it’s coughing its way back to undeniable life.

“You rescued me,” is the first thing Yusuf says to him. “Your song – it is the song of my heart. My soul.”

Nicolò...has no idea what to do with this, coughs awkwardly in reply, and leaves before he can think too hard about the warmth in his chest answering to the warmth in the human’s expressive, grateful eyes.

(He doesn’t tell Yusuf the truth about their bloody first meeting until years later. It’s too goddamn embarrassing, to be perfectly honest.)

Of course he comes back within a day, almost shamefully quickly. Unable to help being fascinated by this gorgeous, well-spoken, kind and generous human who cannot die. He starts bringing things to Yusuf: at first just fish, then interesting-shaped fragments of rock and coral, and then bits of treasure he’s collected over the years, just to hear what new poetic turn of phrase Yusuf will spout on the spot when he’s given something.

“...this is my family crest on this treasure chest, Nicolò. How strange.”

“It is the chest you said your great-great-grandfather lost,” Nicolò says, the words coming out dry and halting from long years of disuse. Watching Yusuf’s hands as he traces the elaborate lines engraved on the lid, now blurred with rust and coral. 

“That’s amazing. Truly. I am at a loss for words,” Yusuf says, smiling.

“No, you aren’t,” Nicolò says, and keeps watching so he can see the moment when the smile turns into a laugh.

Another day, he brings to Yusuf what Booker had told him was called a ‘dinglehopper’ and was what humans used to keep their hair in order, as they did not have the ocean to spread it out like beautiful seaweed in the waves. Yusuf takes it, mouth twitching in a way that makes Nicolò doubt the accuracy of Booker’s explanation. Yet Yusuf does not correct him, but in fact solemnly thanks him before offering the dinglehopper back and asking him to help untangle his riot of curls.

And so it goes. Days pass. Fascination becomes infatuation, turns to desire and then into love, until neither can imagine living without the other, and yet—

Eventually, Nicolò has to give Yusuf up. The prince is too noble and good to just abandon his people indefinitely. And because Nicolò loves him, he goes out and once more lures a ship in with his song, but not to dash it to pieces on jagged rocks this time. He leads them to the island. Watches from a distance as the astonished shouting begins, then back-pounding hugs and joyous celebration as Yusuf boards the ship and sails away. Watches Yusuf turn back more than once to scan the beach, clearly looking for Nicolò, but Nicolò does not follow. Instead, he watches until the ship is lost to his sight and he cannot feel the ship’s current or smell, and then he dives deep and goes to visit Merrick.

Meanwhile, Yusuf arrives back at the capital, where his other best friend, Quỳnh (immortal admiral of the navy) feels terribly guilty about the prince going overboard on his birthday. Which is why she uncharacteristically doesn’t give him shit when he comes back babbling nonsense about mermaids. Or when he spends the next few weeks moping around, writing mermaid poetry and drawing mermaid pictures.

To be fair to him, the particular mermaid he sketches over and over does look pretty striking. Otherworldly and all that. Good cheekbones. Nice pearly scales. “Fucking...giant anglerfish eyes,” Quỳnh mutters while she and Andy look over the latest pile of sketches Yusuf’s left abandoned on a library table. “Our prince has been fucking bewitched by a fucking fish.”

“Mm,” Andy agrees. 

So when Nicolò arrives at the palace one fine summer’s day – naked, his fangs smoothed away to look perfectly human, a giant emerald in one hand and a silver fork in the other – and walking, on legs, it causes a bit of an uproar.

“You still smell like the sea,” Yusuf says hoarsely into Nicolò’s neck, the two of them wrapped around each other as closely as two bodies can be.

“Oh, fuck,” Andy says, lowering her axe. Quỳnh looks more closely at the dirty naked wild man their prince is embracing as if his life depends on it. Angular face. Skin encrusted with salt. Absolutely enormous piercing blue eyes. Naked, did we mention naked.

“Oh, fuck,” Quỳnh says.

“You get them separated,” Andy says. “I’ll go...get them a bath.”

The price Nicolò paid for his new human shape:

His siren song.

His immortality.

What he gets in return:

Yusuf teaching him what a dinglehopper is actually called, and what humans actually use it for.

Yusuf teaching him how to read and write his native tongue, and a few other tongues besides.

Yusuf reading poetry to him or sketching next to him on long lazy afternoons in the gardens.

The immense pleasure of intimidating the fuck out of any remaining would-be suitors for Yusuf’s hand in marriage who are still hanging around the palace for some reason.

“I am Nicolò di Genova,” Nicolò replies to the marquis’s indignant demands – predator’s smile still frightening even without endless rows of needle-sharp teeth. “You have seven days to leave this place forever. Get your affairs in order.”

Friendship with Andy and Quỳnh.

“Holy shit. Did he just—”

“—stab the marquis with a fork, at dinner, in front of the entire court? Yep.”

“...”

“...”

“New best friend.”

“Obviously.”

Yusuf writing poetry about him and to him. Nicolò likes them all. He wouldn't know a good human poem from a bad human poem, but nothing Yusuf touches could be bad, so ergo it's good.

Sightseeing throughout the kingdom with Yusuf’s strong, gentle fingers twined around his.

Yusuf breathing blissful curses into Nicolò’s ear, exactly like he used to do on their island, as they move together on his enormous bed.

Yusuf. Yusuf. Yusuf.

(Booker is also there. He insisted on being turned human, too, and coming along to make sure Nicolò doesn’t totally fuck this up, but he’s really mainly there for the entertainment. And the booze. Andy asks him at one point about losing his immortality. He shrugs. “Look, if we die, we die,” he says, then offers Andy another pour of fine French brandy. The two of them get along famously.)

It’s all going great until one night on the beach, while they’re walking along hand-in-hand under the stars and idly discussing human and merfolk constellations. Someone approaches them, dressed splendidly and moving with arrogant grace. He is also angular, also fair-haired, also possessed of unsettling eyes. And he has Nicolò’s siren song, gently humming from the shell that adorns his neck.

“Merrick,” Nicolò hisses as Yusuf’s eyes grow glazed and blank, and he tightens his hand on Yusuf’s, afraid for the first time. “Our deal—”

“He can’t bear the idea of living forever without you, can he? And so he hasn’t proposed,” Merrick says, smiling cruelly. “You’ve missed your chance. He’s mine.” And he extends his hand out to Yusuf—

Who stirs, suddenly, and turns to Nicolò. “Limpid, or shimmering?” 

“What?”

“Shimmering,” Yusuf decides, peering into Nicolò’s eyes. “Yes. Limpid would be too pretentious, I think.”

And that’s pretty much that – we don’t actually get the plot with Merrick the Sea Witch because Yusuf only has eyes for one weird-looking white guy. Also, his one artistic failing is that he's tone deaf.

They do eventually kill Merrick because true love wins out and we are all about those happy endings, Grimm’s can suck it, etcetera, so Nicolò gets his immortality and his siren song back. He’s also back to being a merman, but Yusuf does not care. “I could paint your beautiful tail for the rest of my life, my love, and still fail to capture the luminous iridescence of you,” he murmurs, stroking said tail with tender fingers. The last person to touch Nicolò’s tail got his hand bitten off. Here and now, Nicolò runs his claws through Yusuf’s hair, clicking deep and happy in his throat.

(“This is weird, right?” Quỳnh asks from where she and Andy are busy scraping evil kraken guts off their armor, a prudent distance down the beach from the lovers. “I’m not the only one who thinks it’s weird?”

Andy says nothing, just offers Quỳnh the rest of her bottle of vodka. This is why Quỳnh loves her so.)

(The wedding is a nightmare, at least according to the palace chef charged with cooking the wedding feast. “What is this, this, abomination? What in heaven’s name have you brought into my kitchen!”

“Tubeworm,” Booker says. “Considered a fine delicacy among our people. Don’t worry about it.”)

[imma-fucking-nerd]

Goodmorning

(Connor x PlusSized!Reader)

A/N: Yes this is absolutely self-indulgent, let me live my life. Also I didnt know what to to title it so yee

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It was still dark when you came into work at the DPD that Monday morning and all you wanted to do was go back to sleep for 12 more hours. But alas, you had work. You weren't a detective or an officer or someone that went out in the field at all really.  Basically a secretary of sort, taking care of files of cases and such. How you weren't replaced by an android by now you had no idea, but you were grateful. Well, at least now you were.

You used to hate working at the DPD. Why? One reason. Gavin fucking Reed. The insufferable prick seemed to make it his goddamn life mission to make you as miserable as possible. Specifically targeting your weight. How original. It didn't really make you feel that bad, okay that was a lie. But it was more annoying than anything. You were so close to just quiting when a certain android appeared at the desk across from Hanks.

When you first saw him you were intrigued to say the least. He was.....drop dead gorgeous. And when he looked at you with those perfect brown eyes you were smitten. You were also extremely embarrassed that he had just caught you gawking at him and with a nervous laugh you waved at him before hastily getting back to work. Little did you know that Connor hadn't looked away, and was extremely confused as to why your round cheeks were rising in temperature.

Ever since then your little crush on the android detective just kept growing the more you interacted with him. In that time you also grew closer to Hank, you realized that he was actually really cool. And also definitely knew about your 'little' crush. Of course, you didn't know he knew. You thought you were being so slick, but in Hanks words you were being "really fucking obvious." Thankfully Connor didn't put the pieces together.

You knew that he'd never feel the same about you, even if he could feel that way towards anyone. Why would he pick you of all people? You weren't exactly the prettiest, or the smartest, and you couldn't kick ass to save your ass. But hey, you could dream right?

Despite that you always held a tiny piece of hope. A tiny piece that only kept growing as you noticed how he himself was slowly becoming the very thing he was meant to hunt. And when he finally became a full on deviant? You were beyond happy, and so so proud.

You smiled to yourself as you made your way over to your desk as you recalled the day he and Hank came to you with the news. It was the day after you saw your little Connor on tv leading an army of Cyberlife androids he 'woke up'. The first thing you did was bring him in for a bone-crushing hug, gushing about how proud you were. You almost kissed him right then and there but you had to force yourself away from him with a little awkward laugh.

"Good morning (Y/n)," Connor's voice tore you away from your thoughts.

"Morning Cony," you greeted him with a smile.

Glancing over to Hanks desk and, unsurprisingly, not seeing him there you chucked a bit to yourself.

"It seems that Hank couldn't be bothered to come to work on time like the rest of us. Again."

When you didn't get a response from Connor you looked back to him staring at you intently, his LED blinking yellow. You rose a brow and couldn't help but smirk slightly, knowing exactly what he was doing.

"I just got here and your already scanning me, hmm?" you asked amused.

He blinked a couple of times and his LED returned to its passive blue. The lightest shade of blue tinting his cheeks, seemingly in embarrassment.

"My apologies, (Y/n). But I noticed that your low in dopamine. Have you eaten breakfast?" He inquired, tilting his head adorably as he always did.

"Uhhh yep. Had a bowl of cereal," you lied.

You didn't really ever eat breakfast. Not because of your whole overweight thing, but because you just never really got hungry early in the morning. You could already hear Gavin's dumb voice fiegning shock. But surprise surprise, just cuz you're overweight doesn't mean you're constantly stuffing your face. You only do that at night.

Connor was just about to call you out on your obvious lie, he didn't even need a lie detector to know that since you were an awful liar, your stomach betrayed you with a low growl. He frowned slightly and you chuckled bashfully before looking down at your stomach.

"Traitor," you mumbled to yourself.

"(Y/n), you know that breakfast is the most important meal of the day for humans. You should eat something," before you could even speak he interrupts you with a playful smile, "and only having coffee doesn't count as breakfast."

"Okay okay, fine fine. You win," you sigh in defeat which earned a smile from the android.

God how you loved that awkward smile. Adorable.

"Lets hope that there's something decent in the break room," you said before turning in the direction of said room.

"Alright, I'll be out here filling out some reports if you need anything," Connor called out to you before you left.

You hoped to god that you got here before Gavin and that you wouldn't have to see his stupid-

"Well looky what we have here. Come to raid the fridge?" He asked with a smug grin, like he thought he did something.

Of course.

You didn't dignify his schoolyard taunt with a response, only rolling your eyes. However you did change your course to the coffee making instead. You could grab something when he left, not really wanting to deal with his judgment at the moment. As Hank would say, it's too early for this shit.

"Aww did I hurt little piggy's feelings?" He taunted further as he made his way over to you, pinching your cheek.

Immediately your hand came up to slap his away and you shot him a glare.

"You know pigs are actually really intelligent creatures. Shame the same can't be said about you. So thanks for the compliment jackass," you snapped before turning your attention back to the coffee maker.

Before Gavin could get out a comeback to reclaim some of his pride, Connor appeared in the doorway.

"Is there a problem here?" He directed to Gavin.

"I was just leaving," Gavin said bitterly before leaving, childishly chucking into Connor's shoulder on his way out.

Connor didn't move an inch.

You huffed as you watched him leave, subconsciously rubbing the cheek that he pinched rather hard. Connor noticed this and tilted his head slightly before making his way over to you.

"Are you alright? Did he hurt you?" His voice was concerned and he looked back to Gavin, fully prepared to beat his ass for hurting you.

"No, no I'm fine. The prick just pinched my damned cheek. Who the fuck even does that?" You sighed.

Yet despite your words he gently grabbed your chin and tilted your head slightly to make sure no damage was done. He certainly couldn't let one of his favourite humans be injured, especially not by one of his least favourite.

Connor's actions immediately started making heat rise up to your cheeks and you couldn't help but stare at his perfect face. God how you wanted him to just kiss you right then and there. As soon as those thoughts entered your mind you immediately averted your gaze from him, your cheeks becoming even more warm.

Connor tilted his head at your odd behavior and did a scan of you quickly. When he came to the conclusion that it seemed you were flustered, he had to hold back a smirk. He might have been innocent, and a bit oblivious about your feelings for him for.....well longer than he wanted to admit seeing as though he was a detective and couldn't figure out you liked him without help from Hank. More like Hank straight up saying it in frustration. But now that he knew, he couldn't help but think how adorable you were. How didn't he see it sooner? Oh how he loved being deviant.

Suddenly, an idea popped into his head and this time he made no effort to hide his smirk. When you looked up to him you were the one tilting your head in confusion. Slowly, he leaned down and you swore you felt like your heart was either going to explode, or just stop altogether. Your eyes went wide as he grew closer, and when he planted his lips ever so gently on the spot where Gavin pinched you swore you died and went to heaven.

When he pulled back you just blinked at him in disbelief. The way your heartrate went through the roof made Connor's smirk widen and he had to stop himself from chuckling at how adorable you looked.

"All better?" He asked slyly, the smooth bastard.

You couldn't even get out a word in response, only making weird noises before nodding. You were definitely feeling better now. He pulled his hand away from you and stood up straighter, his face forming an innocent smile as if nothing happened.

"Good, then I suggest you get some breakfast," with that he turned to leave the room, but not before shooting you a wink.

You stared at the door he left from as you brought up your hand to touch the place the kissed you. Now you were rubbing it for a whole new reason.

Suddenly a thought came to your mind. Why did he do that? Did he know you liked him? How did he-?

Hank.

Oh you were so going to kill him.

——————————————

A/N: Sorry the ending is kinda bad, idk where tf this went lmaoo. Was originally gunna make Connor the innocent bby he is but then he turned out to be the smooth bastard he also is woops. Anyways, hope y'all enjoyed

[alpaca-writes]

Mystics, Chapter 32

Arch becomes hired on at Mystics by the strange shopkeeper Lyrem Nomadus, and everything seems to be going well. In fact, their life nearly becomes perfection; no more bullies, better grades, and a lot less stress. Soon enough, however, Arch realizes that perhaps not everything is as perfect as it seems and that Lyrem has been hiding a very dark, and troubling secret…

Oooh I have to say I’m pretty proud of this chapter. I had to wrestle with a thousand and one plot-holes to make it work and it’s almost 2:30am but it was all worth it. Enjoy!

MasterList 

Taglist: @myst-in-the-mirror & @livingforthewhump

CW: Gore, body horror, creepy whumper, swearing, there’s one bad pun this time. I lol’d about it for arguably too long.

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

CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO: CURTAINS

         Paimon whistled an old tune through his lips as he stepped across the hall. The knives had been placed away, and in speaking with Apollo, he had come to a startling revelation about himself and his goals.

         It was Arthur’s turn to be strapped down to the table and this time, it wouldn’t be in a dining hall. Before long, Paimon had the room transformed into a stage, with dining chairs to line the one and only audience row. There was no need for a large gathering. Paimon had a very limited guest list. He had sent invitations with some poorly thought puns just for the fun of it, and had no intention of being stood up. This would be a performance of a lifetime and as director, Paimon wouldn’t dare to have a single aspect go awry.

         He clucked his hooves down the darkest hallway by-passing Apollo’s chamber for the one with the two sorry humans. It seemed they were cut off from a sour discussion when they heard his steps through the corridor.

         “-it really shouldn’t take too much effort”-

         “How would you know?” Lyrem hissed.

         Paimon smiled, glad that the two prisoners were making nice with each other.

         “Big plans, my boys?” he sauntered through, making eye contact with Arthur, who rolled his eyes away from the creature to avoid looking at him fully. “No? Not a fishing trip or some good old mountaineering? I hear Colorado is gorgeous this time of year.”

         Paimon tapped a chain with a fingernail to produce a clinking sound near Arthur’s wrist. The chains began lowering themselves down at the behest of an invisible, magical force. The moment he had slack, Arthur wrapped a loop of chain around Paimon’s neck and pulled it taut against his forearm. He had the upper hand, and there was nothing that Paimon could do to affect him.

         “Agree to let Arch out of this deal right now, you”-

         Paimon grinned and vanished into a plume of black smoke. Arthur stumbled from the release of pressure against the beast.

         Paimon stalked up behind him, enjoying the little act of defiance, but he had to be stern. He wagged a finger at the human and tutted.

         “You know better than that,” Paimon exclaimed. “I may not be able to hurt you with magic, but I can certainly still use it to get myself out of a sticky situation.”

         He kept himself to a distance as not to get tied up twice, and glanced toward Lyrem, who seemed to be keeping to himself and was intentionally avoiding eye contact by turning his head away.

         “So emotional… Don’t worry old friend, you’ll get your chance as well,” Paimon noted. He returned to Arthur with a renewed interest in his eyes. “Now, you listen. We have quite the performance ahead of us and you’re already busted up enough as it is. I don’t want to make it any worse. That’s for Arch to do.”

         Arthur glanced from Paimon to his way out into the hall and then back again.

         “Clear terms,” Arthur began, “Arch is given five minutes to carve out my heart, and if they fail, they are free from all bonds, any agreements, including any signed ones they had with you. And if you use even one ounce of your power to force them”-

         Paimon nodded, “I don’t know why you need to specify it, Arty, truly. Arch will do splendidly and you’ll never see the light of day again. It’s a winning situation all around.”

         “If you try to force them into doing anything at all,” Arthur insisted. “Then Arch is released, agreed?”

         Paimon scoffed, and nodded, “Agreed! For goodness sakes, were you a lawyer in a past life? Clearly not, I think. The lawyers I know wouldn’t come to an agreement like this unless it was in writing- they’d also think of themselves first. Do you have any clue what will happen to you, Arty? What will become of you if Arch is released?”

         As Paimon rambled, he tapped the shackles again, and this time with severe discipline, Arthur refrained from trying to strike at Paimon a second time. His shackles were joined now; morphed from a joint in the wall to linking together from his wrists and his ankles with hardly a sound to it.

         “I don’t care what happens to me,” Arthur declared, “as long as Arch is free from you.”

         “Such a sweet thing, caring about your Arch so much. I doubt that feeling will last for very much longer.” Paimon ushered Arthur forward. He was unable to teleport him anyway. The Abysmal Flame prevented Arthur from being controlled by any force placed upon him that was not physical in nature. “Move along now, we don’t have all day. Our guests will be arriving shortly.”

         With a final glance to Lyrem from across the room, Arthur followed Paimon out the door and through the halls.

         The hall lit itself as Paimon took his hoof-steps through, avoiding the empty souls lurking between shadowed pillars. Arthur moved slowly, feeling tired and sick from his lacking energy.

“What guests?” Arthur inquired.

         “Did I not tell you earlier that it was a performance? I invited several guests to have front row seats… my uncle Hades, my half-sister, and oh, of course, your dear sister Charlotte as well.”

         Arthur’s blood ran frigid. The tense, shaky breath that followed made Paimon smirk with delight.

         “Ah yes, I’ll be sure she is there to watch her child to carve out the heart of her dear little brother. I couldn’t pass up that opportunity.”

         “But you’re also releasing Hades? And Persephone?” Arthur asked with a puzzled look as they ascended the stairs.

         “You mistake me for a fool?” Paimon challenged. “They will be bound to obeying me and my laws the moment they enter through the door I’ve created for them. Don’t think they’ll be there to do anything more than watch you suffer.”

         Paimon led Arthur up to a small door that opened to the dining hall- now a stage with some seating and a table for Arthur to lie on.

         Arthur stood at the head of the table as Paimon motioned for him to climb up. Shaking his head regretfully, he pulled his hand from his pocket, hoisted himself up and spun onto its surface. His chains were tapped again, and obeyed Paimon perfectly. They fastened themselves into the table until Arthur’s arms were taut to his side and his hands had just a little wiggle room near his hips.

         Arthur stared up at the satyr, feeling more vulnerable than he ever did before, and watched Paimon lean over eagerly. His pointed beard draped across Arthur’s shoulder and touched the tabletop.

         “This is a good look for you,” he mentioned with a deadly grin.

         Feeling humble, Arthur looked away, seeing the chairs that would soon be filled with spectators; one of which would be his sister. Suddenly, he wasn’t so concerned for himself anymore.

         “Don’t make Charlotte watch.”

         “Hmm?”

         Arthur blinked slowly, knowing that Paimon had heard him clear as day and yet pretended not to. This was all part of the fun. There was no point in repeating himself.

         From the back wall, behind the chairs, a bright light glowed where three outlines stood, waiting to make their entrance.

         “Ah, here they come.” Paimon smiled and offered Arthur a wink. “Let’s get this show on the road, shall we?”

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

Earlier,

“What are you trying to do?”

“I’m trying to create another portal.”

Lyrem sighed. Arthur’s efforts were admirable at least.

“The chains will prevent you from crossing through,” he said. “Besides, I’ve already explained to you once that the only way out of this is to go through with the deal you made”-

“I’m not trying to make a portal for me,” Arthur spoke exasperated. “I’m trying to create one for you. I know how these things go down, alright? You get into a deal with someone and then they change the rules, they raise the price because they know what you need from them. Once Arch is out of their deal, Paimon will use them against me. Arch might end up back at square one if we don’t have a significant amount of leverage.”

“Life as a junkie has certainly prepared you for this moment, hasn’t it?”

Arthur stared at the old man incredulously at the sudden unloading of baggage, and shook his head.

“My apologies” Lyrem corrected himself and cleared his throat. “You hope to release me, which won’t work, and then expect me to… do what?”

“Release Apollo. Find your friend Hekate… I assume you are resourceful enough to figure something out so that we can finally end this nightmare. It really shouldn’t take too much effort.”

“How would you know?” Lyrem hissed.

Falling to a sudden silence, Lyrem made a quick glance to Arthur as Paimon entered. Paimon addressed Arthur first.

Arthur was in no condition to create portals. Lyrem could see that he was in pain enough already as it was, but even so, Arthur’s eyes locked with his for the briefest of seconds when the chains became loose. Arthur had directed his eyes to Lyrem and then nodded toward his left hand.

The smallest of voids had formed behind his hand and into the metal piece that held his wrist up. Before Paimon could pay any significant attention to Lyrem, Arthur had wrapped a chain around his neck and started to threaten him.

Perhaps Lyrem had misjudged Arthur’s capacity to be clever, but it was still only one small portal; a gap in space and time where his wrist could pass through. It wasn’t quite enough to set Lyrem free; not yet, anyhow. Lyrem took the distraction as an opportunity to recite a mantra respecting the sacred geometry; one that would hopefully allow him to multiply one portal into four.

“Ek mein do, do mein chaar,” he whispered. The power flowed through him like water; out of earshot from Paimon, who hadn’t even realized that Lyrem was reciting ancient magic that no one had any claim over.

“So emotional… Don’t worry old friend, you’ll get your chance as well.”

Lyrem ignored Paimon’s words, still concentrating on himself instead. Soon, the other two exited the room, and Lyrem recited his words one final time before falling completely forward onto his hands and knees.

“Even as a dead man, I still feel pain,” he muttered bitterly. “How is that fair?”

He grunted, lifting himself to his feet and turned around, noticing the shackles were still intact and the voids still existing on their metal cuffs. In a spark of light, the four voids collapsed into themselves and left nothing behind.

“Must learn how to do that one day…” Remembering the task at hand, he rubbed his hands together and made his way through to the hall. “Now, to find our… leverage.”

Paimon and Arthur were gone from the hall, and it was left in darkness. The decrepit beings that roamed the halls there ignored him as he followed the corridor down to where he knew Apollo would be kept as a prisoner. The light still poured from beneath, leaking out into the hall. Lyrem took a quick glance from side to side and opened the door.

Lyrem forced himself forward towards the Sun God with his eyes squinting through the brightness. The light dimmed as the god awoke, exhausted from his half-brother’s brief visit. Lyrem started on one of the shackles holding Apollo in place around a wrist but realized soon that they were clearly the same as the ones he had only just escaped from, one room over and wouldn’t be able to get through them without help.

“Shit,” Lyrem muttered. Apollo did not look surprised or like he cared.

“Controlled by Pan, for Pan, I’m afraid,” he managed. “Did you, a silly little mortal, really believe that you could release me? There was a good reason why I sent that call through to you. I wanted to reach Persephone, or Hades.

You are useless.”

Lyrem backed off from Apollo, put on edge from the insulting remark.

“I’ll have you know I contained a great amount of magical prowess before I met your brother! Now, help me find a way to release you before”-

Apollo chuckled tiredly.

“What? What is so funny?”

“You,” Apollo answered. “You are a fool! The reason I am here at all is because Pan convinced you to tear out your father’s heart. I couldn’t give him what he wanted when I lost. I bet on the wrong horse’s conscience, didn’t I? And now, you are here, trying to right all the wrong you’ve done at the behest of Pan and oh… it just makes me laugh. It’s practically poetry.”

“Well, then,” Lyrem didn’t have time to explain himself, nor should he have to at all. His life was just laid out before him once again as a used chew toy on the ground. Now Apollo was the one judging him for his decisions. Lyrem looked to Apollo’s chest that was opened and bore a golden heart, still pumping. It was the source of the light. Paimon had left the clamp on to hold the gaping wound open. Lyrem touched the metal handle, and jolted back as it was very hot- as though it had been sitting in the heat of a flame. He quickly soothed his hand, weaved a protection spell through his fingers and promptly tried a second time. He gripped it, loosened the bar, and pulled.

Apollo screamed. The release of his wound was more painful than either of them had expected it to be. Lyrem tossed the metal bar to the ground and raised a brow. The light faded more and more as the wound healed over in record time.

“How was that?” Lyrem sniffed, wiping the golden blood off of his hands and onto his pant leg. “Was that a good enough deed for you? Or should I have torn your heart out for fun? Believe it or not, I am capable of making rational decisions- even those where my dear dad was involved. If you had known him, you’d have ripped him apart too.”

Apollo had no choice but to listen to Lyrem as his body recovered quite painfully.

“Maria once told me that I was too passionate- too emotional for her. I tried to rectify that, in order to please her, to please Pan, and everyone else I had come across in life thinking that I was always doing something wrong. But, I see now, emotional is part of who I am. Doing things out of emotion does not make me any less rational- on the contrary I believe it has made me much more productive.” Lyrem stopped speaking as Apollo met his eyes. “You’re welcome, by the way.”

The god exhaled, thankful that his chest had closed up completely. The light in the room had gone out, leaving the ambient glow of the bulbs along the wall. Lyrem stood along the ledge, searching for any portion of chain that might be weak enough to sever. There wasn’t. If Lyrem remembered correctly, Paimon had once boasted about acquiring them from Ares, the God of War and he wasn’t anything, if not particular about securing prisoners. But Ares hadn’t met Lyrem Nomadus, and Lyrem Nomadus wasn’t planning to leave Apollo chained up in the basement of the Underworld without trying a few tricks of his own. Unbound by the chains and without Paimon around to interfere, Lyrem was much handier than any god would expect. The chains began to lower, releasing slack to Apollo until his bare feet rested on the floor.

“How are you doing that?” Apollo asked. He turned his head. Lyrem hadn’t done visibly, anything to warrant the lowering chains. Their lengths clinked to the floor.

“A calming chant, a song of innocence- although…”

“What?” Apollo asked, impatient in Lyrem’s pause. The cuffs hadn’t released.

“To release you, would mean you would have to give Paimon what he was owed,” Lyrem said. “What do you owe to him?”

Apollo grunted, “he doesn’t deserve what I owe him. Not after everything he has done to our family and to me.”

Lyrem raised a brow in mild confusion, “then why stick by his side? Why play his games at all?”

“Because I care about him,” he growled back. “Like an idiot. I humored him because I felt like I had to- like I could make him better if I gave him my attention. He’s my family, and one of my closest kin. And… He’s a lost cause.”

Out of habit, Lyrem reached for his stopwatch, which had been destroyed long ago, just to see how much time had passed them by. Such an indication only told him that they would be running out of time soon enough.

         Arch would be carving into Arthur at any moment now.

         “What did Paimon want?”

         “He wanted a Sun for his realm, the Labyrinth.”

         “Give it to him.” Lyrem ordered. “And when he goes back, you will lock him in. Can you manage that?”

         “Lock my brother in his own realm?” Apollo looked skeptical, but nodded. “I’ll do what I can. But truthfully, there is no guarantee”-

         “And we’ll have to remove one of the Labyrinth’s inhabitants first. A little girl. Maybe a year old,” Lyrem added.

         “There is a child in the Labyrinth? Why?” Concerned, Apollo watched Lyrem gulp slightly.

         “I’d rather not say.” Lyrem gestured for Apollo to open a door to the Labyrinth. “But you could take her out of there, couldn’t you? And she would be… fine?”

         “I believe so,” Apollo pushed his hands together in concentration, and then pulled them apart until a void grew in front of them. “Once the Sun is delivered there, I should be able to remove her quite easily.”

         “Good, good…” Lyrem muttered. “Well? What are you waiting for? Give him the Su”-

         They were no longer in the basement area. Instead, Lyrem was seated in a chair from the dining hall and staring out at a familiar set of faces. One was on the table, trying to speak to the shorter one standing over them with a jeweled blade; Arthur was pleading with them to listen- to hear them. But Arch was in the middle of a sweet guitar lick and couldn’t hear anything happening, even if it was only a foot or two away. They were waiting to the next song before they started their five-minute carving challenge, just as Paimon asked them to. Charlotte sat beside him on one side and beyond her, Persephone and Hades. All watched on, not paying mind to Lyrem and Apollo’s sudden arrival. Paimon found his own seat between Lyrem and Apollo and sat himself down.

         He chuckled looking from one disappointed face to the other and handed each of them a pamphlet. Grinning, he patted both of them on the shoulder.

“Glad you both could make opening night.”

[ikemensweetheart]

Spider Lilies Chapter 2

Yokai!Yoshimoto x FemReader

An unexpected turn of events leads you into the Spirit World. A land of mythical and terrifying creatures called Yokai.

Pursued by a powerful Yokai called Nobunaga, you find refuge with Yoshimoto. A 'collector of beautiful things' as he calls himself.

Trapped in a strange world with no one else to turn to.

Will you become Nobunaga's bride or will another win your heart?

A/n: This series keeps turning into a long read, so I'm putting it under the cut.

Chapter 1

In a dimly lit room, Nobunaga stood alone, his red eyes glowing in the candlelight as he stared out the window at the slumbering town below his castle.

Something shifted in the shadows behind him. "Report, Mitsuhide." He spoke into the darkness. From out of the shadows, Mitsuhide emerged, his seven tails low in reverence as he bowed before his lord. "Apologies, my lord, but I was unable to fulfill my mission."

Nobunaga turned toward the Kitsune. "What?" His voice was low with a dangerous edge. "The human wandered into the jorogumo's territory and she is under his protection now."

Nobunaga's eyes didn't leave Mitsuhide's neutral face as he processed the information.

A wicked grin bloomed on the oni's face. "So, the spider has gotten involved… that is interesting." He turned back to gaze out the window. "Where there is this one spider, there will be others. Take Masamune with you to Yoshimoto's meager territory and fetch my bride. Do whatever you deem necessary to whoever stands in your way."

"Yes, my lord." Mitsuhide bowed lower before disappearing back into the darkness.

"(MC)." 

You looked up to see Yoshimoto standing on the veranda from where you were sitting in the garden at the back of Yoshimoto's house. "Oh, hey, Yoshimoto."

It had been a few days since you had accepted Yoshimoto's offer to let you stay in his home. In exchange, you were more than willing to help out with the housework.

The day's work was done and now, you were relaxing outside in the small, but gorgeous garden behind the house.

"What are you doing?" Yoshimoto asked as he stepped off the veranda and walked over to join you on the bench. "Just sketching." You replied.

With all the chaos the day you arrived in the spirit world, you had somehow managed to keep a hold of your sketchbook.

"You're an artist?" Yoshimoto's eyes glimmered with interest. "Yeah, kinda. It's just something I do for fun. I'm not a professional or anything."

"May I see?" Your breath hitched in surprise at Yoshimoto's request. "I'm not very good." You say hurriedly. "You probably wouldn't like it."

"Perhaps you should let me be the one to form my own opinion." Yoshimoto countered gently.

Your heartbeat quickened. Your art was something you kept close to your heart. So it made you nervous when other people asked to see it. It felt like you were exposing your very soul.

"I'd really rather not." You said softly. 

Yoshimoto withdrew. "Very well, then." There was a flicker of disappointment in his eyes.

An awkward silence settled between the two of you.

"Would you like some tea?" Yoshimoto asked after a moment. "Um, sure." You replied.

Yoshimoto stood up and went back inside the house. 

Your shoulders slumped in relief and you sighed.

"That was quite a heavy sigh from someone so beautiful." You jumped in surprise at the sudden voice intruding on the silence of the garden. You looked up to see a man standing in one of the trees overhead.

"Ah!" You yelled as he climbed down the tree and landed alongside you. He was tall, he had a fine chiseled jaw and alluring grey eyes.

You immediately jumped to your feet. "Who- who are you?" You demanded, backing away from him. The man's eyes widened in surprise. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to frighten you." He then gives you a gentle smile. 

"Shingen?" You turned to see Yoshimoto back at the veranda, looking concerned. He had heard you scream and had come to check on you.

"Yoshimoto! There you are, cousin." The newcomer greeted Yoshimoto, casually raising his hand. "I didn't expect you to have such beautiful company today." 

"(MC), this is Shingen. Shingen, this is (MC)." Yoshimoto introduced the two of you. "(MC)." Shingen purred your name. "What a beautiful name for a beautiful maiden." He stepped toward you, took your hand and kissed it. "It's a pleasure to meet you, princess."

"Um, yeah." You murmured. Slightly taken aback. You gave Yoshimoto a questioning look. "What brings you here today, Shingen?" He asked. 

"I was in the area and thought I'd stop in to say hello." Shingen explained. "Sorry for not coming in the front, but I simply couldn't resist the vision I discovered in your garden." He then flashed you a dashing smile.

You stare at him speechless. Your face quickly felt like it was on fire. Meanwhile, Yoshimoto seemed completely unfazed. "I see." He said simply. "I just finished some tea. Would you like to join us?" He then offered.

"That sounds like a wonderful idea."

Yoshimoto ushered Shingen inside. You followed. Not sure what to make of this whole situation.

As the three of you sit down in the main room you ask. "So, how do you two know each other?" 

"Shingen and I are cousins." Yoshimoto explained to you as he poured the tea. "Ah." Then they must be close for Shingen to drop in unannounced like that.

"What about you, (MC)? How did you come to know Yoshimoto?"

You were taken aback by Shingen's inquiry. "Well, um…" You glanced over at Yoshimoto. Unsure as to how to answer that.

"She came through the torii gate to the west of the lake." Yoshimoto explained. 

Shingen's eyes widened. "I see. You're very brave for a human." He said. "What?" You looked at him in confusion. 

Shingen chuckled. "You're aware that we're yokai, no doubt. Beings that eat humans and yet, here you are, having tea with two of us. Very few humans would have the courage to do that."

"Ah." You murmured softly. Then a question entered your mind. "So, are you a jorogumo too?" You asked.

Shingen laughed. "Close, but not quite. I'm a tsuchigumo, you see." He explained.

A tsuchigumo being related to a jorogumo? Two different types of spider yokai. You were curious how that worked.

"Lord Shingen!!" You jumped at the sound of a voice yelling from the front of the house. "Ah, there's Yuki." Shingen said calmly. Yuki?

"I'll let him in." Yoshimoto stood up and went to the door. He came back with a young, brown haired man who was absolutely seething.

"Lord Shingen, what are you doing here?" He demanded. "Having tea." Shingen answered. "I can see that, but we don't have time for that." The young man said.

"There's always time for tea with a lovely lady."  Shingen countered. 

This Yuki guy let out an exasperated sigh. "We need to get back, they're expecting us."

It was Shingen's turn to let a sigh, this one was one of disappointment. "Very well." He finally conceded. He then stood up and turned to you. "But don't worry, Princess." He took your hand in his again. "I promise I'll come by to see you again." And planted a kiss on the back of it.

"Um… okay." There your face goes again. 

"Gah!" Yukimura cried out. He then grabbed Shingen by the collar of his kimono and yanked him up. "Come on." He grumbled as he practically dragged the other male out the door.

After they left, you gave Yoshimoto a confused look. "What was that about?" You asked.

"Yukimura is a vassal of Shingen's." Yoshimoto explained. "Though he tends to send himself in a tizzy on certain matters."

"Oh."

***

"Of course you of all people would be able to find a female in the middle of nowhere." Yukimura grumbled as he and Shingen walked through the forest. "The only question is how you found her." He shot his lord a suspicious glance.

"Oh, don't be like that, Yuki." Shingen said. "It's not like I can pull females out of my sleeve. (MC) was already there when I came."

"Then what was she doing there?" Yukimura countered. "Apparently, she wandered through the old torii gate by accident."

"What?!" Yukimura stopped in his tracks. "You're saying she's a human? But that's impossible. All the paths between our realm and the human realm were closed ages ago."

"Yes, but you forget that the path to the Underworld comes through here on rare occasions." Shingen corrected his subordinate as he continued walking. Yukimura quickly resumed walking and caught back up to the older tsuchigumo. "She makes only the second human to come into our world in this manner. She's lucky she came across Yoshimoto and not an unsavory individual-"

Shingen suddenly stopped. His eyes narrowed on something. "Yuki. Hide, quickly." The two males dart behind a tree just in time to see a silver kitsune accompanied by a man wearing an eye patch.

They stayed hidden until the two had passed.

"Mitsuhide and Masamune." Yukimura hissed. "What are that oni's goons doing here?" 

"I'm not entirely sure, but they're headed for Yoshimoto's. Come on, Yuki!"

***

"Hey, Yoshimoto." You said. The two of you had continued enjoying your tea after Shingen had left. "Yes?" Yoshimoto glanced up at you from his tea. "Can I try making dinner tonight by myself?" You asked. "Do you feel ready for it?"

"Yeah." You replied. "I mean, I think I've gotten the hang of it."

Yoshimoto's kitchen was much more antiquated than you were used to, but you were getting the hang of it and you wanted to try cooking on your own.

"Very well, then." Yoshimoto agreed. "Great!" You smiled at him.

Just then, there's a knock at the door. Yoshimoto and you exchange confused looks. "Who could that be?" Yoshimoto asked. "Do you think Shingen forgot something?" You mused. "Unlikely." Yoshimoto rose to his feet. "Stay here, (MC)."

"Okay." 

Yoshimoto left. Heading to the door to investigate while you remained in the main room. 

Everything grew quiet. Far too quiet for your liking.

You heard the sound of clothes rustling behind you. You spun around to find yourself face to face with someone you had hoped never to see again.

"Hello again, little mouse." Mitsuhide is standing over you. A grin like a cheshire cat on his face.

"Yoshimoto!" You screamed as you scrambled to your feet, but your cry is answered by a thunderous crash from the front of the house. "Yoshimoto!" You tried to run, but Mitsuhide was faster. Grabbing your arm, he pulled you back towards him and with a single strong hand, held your wrists together behind your back. "Let me go!" You yelled as you writhed in his firm grip.

"You're not getting away from me this time, little mouse." He hissed in your ear. "Now, be a good girl and come along quietly. Lord Nobunaga is waiting for you."

"Now, that's no way to treat a lady." Your head snapped up. You looked back to see Shingen standing at the outer door to the garden. "Shingen!" You cried out in relief. "Do not interfere, tsuchigumo." Mitsuhide raised his free hand and a blue fireball ignited in his palm. You shrank back in surprise. Shingen just laughed. "Am I supposed to be scared of that little candle?" He asked.

Twip! There's a glimmer of something out of the corner of your eye. Suddenly, you're yanked forward and into Yukimura's waiting arms. He was standing at the door to the kitchen. "Don't worry, I've got you." He told you. "Yuki… mura?" You were surprised to see him too. So was Mitsuhide, it seemed.

Muttering something nasty sounding under his breath, he sent a fireball at Shingen and launched himself at Yukimura. "I will not let you escape with my lord's bride." 

"Well, too bad. He's not getting her!" Scooping you up bridal style, Yukimura hightails it out from the kitchen door.

You yelped as he suddenly jumped up into the nearby trees. "Come on, let's get you out of here." He said. "Wait. What about Yoshimoto?" You asked. "Don't worry, Princess." You looked over to see Shingen on another branch. "Yoshimoto can take care of himself. Look." Shingen pointed to the front of the house. 

There you saw a giant blue spider fighting… was that a dragon?! 

"Right now, we need to focus on keeping you out of their claws. Yoshimoto will catch up with us." Shingen added. "Let's go, Yuki."

"Right." With that, Shingen and Yukimura take off through the trees with you in tow.

"Where are we going?" You asked.

"In the north there is the territory of a powerful snow spirit." Shingen explained. "You'll be safe there. Nobunaga and his goons won't dare challenge him." He gave you a reassuring smile.

Strangely, it didn't put you at ease like Yoshimoto's did.

To be continued…

-----

Thanks for reading. I hope you all enjoyed!

Stay Safe

[theoriginalcarnivorousmuffin]

If Lily and Lenin had a child what do you suppose it would look like? (I'm very much looking forward to seeing the Egg from "Wearing the faces of men" hatch) Would Lenin even want to have children? Or would it be an Oopise? PS: I ship those two so much, you literally have no idea. I really hope that your main work has a happy ending (because I'm a basic bitch) but I would honestly just love reading it however it ends

Isn’t that the question of the hour?

So, first things first. It’s funny that you bring up the Lily/Lenin children scenario because for most of the other pairings I’ve written Lee/Lily with I have a very good idea of what this kids look like/their personalities/etc. 

Lee and Minato, a daughter named either Naruto or Hari depending if Kushina’s in the picture, because neither of them have any imagination. Looks and acts a lot like Minato, has Lee’s hair texture and some of her facial features.

Lee and Obito, well, for reasons called potential spoilers for “Finishing the Hat” I won’t get into it, but take my word for it that I know what the children are like almost embarrassingly well. 

Lily and Wizard Lenin though, honestly, that’s for some reason harder for me to picture and I can’t quite explain why. And it’s not the pairing, clearly, they’re the main deal in “Lily and the Art of Being Sisyphus”, they’re just hard to picture. But let’s try, it’ll be an adventure for all of us.

First, the easier question, does Wizard Lenin want children? No. First, being immortal, he has a) no need for a legacy/immortality in the form of children and b) he’s guaranteed to outlive said children unless they pull some seriously gnarly shit. I think having an heir would be the most compelling argument but since he intends to live and rule the world forever what’s the point of that? It’d just give everyone the wrong idea. Worse, the kid might get the wrong idea and try to kill him to take the throne. And then there’d have to be an execution and it’d all get very messy. 

More than that though, he would completely panic at the idea of fatherhood. He never had any family of his own, basically raised himself (and did a craptastic job at that), and has no idea what good fathers even do. More, he knows exactly how difficult he was as a child and teenager (especially since being forced to confront Wizard Trotsky). The idea of having to deal with a young Tom Riddle himself? He’d probably laugh and then he’d cry. 

Then of course, while Wizard Lenin is above such things as attachment to other human beings, I think he’d recognize that having this squishy, mortal thing, that will inevitably die while he reigns the cosmos would be really depressing. And if they have kids you’d get this long line of descendants to which Wizard Lenin is this weird ageless god uncle. Can you imagine those family reunions? Yikes.

So children for Wizard Lenin would definitely be an “oopsie”. An “oopsie” likely involving a copious amount of alcohol, suppressed feelings, and a much older Lily.

I picture maybe fifty or sixty years in the hypothetical future where everything goes Wizard Lenin’s way and he and Lily get over their current tiff. Wizard Lenin’s still ageless and Lily’s now a creepy adult who’s stopped aging and looks like an elf from Lord of the Rings. He’s been ruling forever, it’s boring, all his original followers are dead and his second generation followers (i.e. Draco Malfoy) are old men, and now becoming a Death Eater is a prestigious competitive ridiculous thing for eager eyed youngsters. Lily wanders the world/cosmos, is on speed dial but tries not to make messes too often for Wizard Lenin (which is hard because he now rules everything), and is desperately trying to keep busy despite the fact that she has nothing to do. Lily’s his pretty much wife except he’s never married her because god emperors don’t need wives (unless, of course, he got tired of people trying to get him to marry wizarding nobility and he just couldn’t take it anymore). They reminisce about the good old days, Wizard Lenin probably confess that it was a lot more fun chasing the car than actually reaching the car, Lily probably talks about all the traumatizing adventures she’s had with robots, alcohol gets involved, then unprotected sex then, SURPRISE!

But anyways, right, what the children look like.

First, we have the “what the fuck” option that always must be considered when mating with a god. Lily could give birth to herself in a very traumatizing experience for both her and Wizard Lenin. It could be just a giant ball of mysterious light. It could be Rabbit. It could be some mysterious green eyed shadow blob that eats children. It could just be a regular mysterious blob. It could be The Key/Dawn Summers and look/act like a perfectly normal child until Wizard Lenin discovers it’s actually something so horrifying and inhuman it’s been disguised as a human child by monks with too much time on their hands.

But let’s take this a little more seriously/get to what you were probably asking me for. Though the “what the fuck” option is always a hilarious one to consider. 

So appearance, the hair’s probably going to take after Wizard Lenin’s in color just because of how genetics work. They could have anywhere from auburn to black hair. I’m going to go with auburn because I enjoy red. It’s probably thick and probably curly. 

Eyes are probably going to be anywhere from green to blue but more likely to be blue for similar reasons. 

Since Wizard Lenin and Lily are both ungodly pale creatures the kids, sadly, will not be able to tan. However, being Wizard Lenin’s children and the heirs to his empire, they’re probably not allowed to do anything so pedantic as tan. 

My first thought was that any kid should not be good looking. They should have all the right bone structure, thick eyelashes, hair, etc. to be good looking but too much of Lily’s intrinsic weird seeps in and you just get these kids who look like they should have walked out of “Children of the Corn”. 

But since I promised we’d stray from the “what the fuck” option they’d likely be very good looking kids. Wizard Lenin’s gorgeous and I always imagine Lily grows up to be a very attractive adult.

But descriptions are boring, I can doodle.

Let’s say that the “oopsie” produces a set of twins. 

First, we have the daughter, who clearly takes a lot after Lily both in appearance and personality.

Likely, when Wizard Lenin got over his existential/fatherhood crisis he and Lily bickered for months over names. Both are convinced the other is terrible at naming children. Both of them are right.

In the end I imagine they flip coins for who gets the middle name vs. first name.

Wizard Lenin wins the coin toss and we get: Mab Luthien Riddle

Mab at first is a plucky young girl but shifts into a moody teenager. Despite being powerful she’s well aware that she has two monolith reputations to live up to: Wizard Lenin and Lily’s. More, she clearly has a role for her to live out and fill and she wants some independence! This causes a lot of teen angst.

She goes from wearing very expensive wizarding robes to whatever the equivalent of hipster is in the distant future. I just stuck her in plaid with shades because I have no imagination. 

She gets sorted into Gryffindor, because anyone who’s willing to be a punk to Wizard Lenin has guts. This, of course, is terrible for everyone. However, especially for Wizard Lenin, because can you imagine him dealing with a teenage daughter?

Second, we have a son, who has the K-pop/Legolas/Sasuke pretty boy good looks that have fourteen year old girls scribbling hearts with their names together in notebooks and writing some seriously bad fanfiction.

Continuing on with the atrocious/nerd name theme we have: Mordred Beren Riddle

He’s a far more sensitive soul, to the point where everyone wonders how the hell he fits into this disaster family/came from two giant assholes. Regardless, he is, he tries his best to please his father and live up to expectations. So he keeps his fancy robes, cries thanks to Wizard Lenin’s mean words, and eventually gets sorted into Hufflepuff.

Thanks to his sensitive nature and good looks he’s the tween heart throb of Hogwarts. His sister is dying.

These are all hypothetical kids of course. If I ever were to write something involving Lily and Wizard Lenin’s kids, I’m not sure it’d be these two that show up (in fact I’m 99% sure it won’t be).

But I hope you guys had as much fun on this brain storming journey as I did.

As for that happy ending in the main story, well, I think it’s happy. Whether the rest of you will agree with me I’ll leave to the end of the story. Whenever we get there.

[your-world-with-nct]

💌 • 1:24am

the ‘no humans allowed’ gala was both yours and vampire!jaemin’s favourite celebration of the year, as you were finally free to have fun in your true form, with other creatures like you.

lee jeno had completely outdone himself when it was his turn to host the party this year, the wealthy werewolf privately rented a five-star michelin restaurant and invited every non-human species he could think of - from the typical vampires and werewolves that he hung out with every day, to fairies and changelings that travelled from the other side of the country just to experience the thrilling sensation of spending Halloween at the gala.

you would be lying if you said it wasn’t the best one you had attended in the past 100 years, it was the most extravagant and exciting occasion, and you revelled in being able to interact with creatures you’d only ever heard of before.

unfortunately, all good things had to come to an end, and you and your boyfriend, jaemin, made your way home at the early hours of 1am. most of jeno’s guests were still there, having the time of their lives, however, you two had an abundance of red wine along with the delectable dinner and various finger foods served, and jeno was certain that if jaemin had another glass, he’d be out like a light.

which was why he had fetched one of his family’s limousine’s for you, simply because he wanted his best friends and favourite couple to get home comfortably, without worrying about calling for a taxi or getting jeno to drive you home - as much as he loved you both, he wasn’t willing to give up partying.

once jeno’s chauffeur had assisted the intoxicated pair of you to your shared apartment, you stumbled in carelessly, settling on your living room floor as the bedroom seemed like too much effort to get to, your lover following suit and curling up into your lap as you lay on the fleecy rug next to your coffee table.

anyone could tell that the two of you were mind-numbingly drunk merely by looking at you – the red on your lips was a mix of smudged lipstick (you blamed jaemin’s clingy nature when he was tipsy for that) and stained wine, and your hair was a hot mess after endless hours of crazy dancing with your newfound friends, the nymphs, while jaemin’s black dress shirt was ruffled and half-unbuttoned as he complained about how hot it was, and his eyes had a dazed look, you could call it adoration, clouding them, the alcohol clearly taking a toll on his behaviour.

he rolled over on the floor to face you, cupping your face in his hand and squishing each cheek alternately and grinning widely, “cuuuuute,” jaemin spoke with a drunken drawl, his voice dripping with admiration, “you’re,” squish. “too,” squish. “cute,” squish.

you giggled at his adorable antics, taking the opportunity of him holding you so close to kiss him right on the lips. the action made your boyfriend pout, “extra cute, my love, you’re extra cute for that kiss.” you let out a childish squeal, fidgeting and squirming into the comfort of jaemin’s arms, “i wish you could see how cute you are though.”

“what do you mean?” you asked drowsily, nuzzling yourself even further into jaemin’s chest, “i mean, you’re gorgeous, baby, and i hate that you can’t see it - in the mirror, in photos - i want you to see what i see.” his fingers found themselves threading through your hair, a habit that he knew made you feel relaxed.

a sleepy smile graced your face at the movement, and at your boyfriend’s endearing speech, “awww, minnie. what do you see anyways that so ‘gorgeous’, hmm? i wanna knowwww,” you slurred, drawing out your words in a disoriented way to act cute.

“well, there’s the way your eyes glisten like magical crystals whenever you see something beautiful or something that left you in awe. and the glow that comes with your rosy cheeks when i tease you or kiss you unexpectedly.

“your smile that stretches from ear-to-ear, lighting up the whole room, that appears when even the smallest of things happen to you, like when you win a round of mario kart. it’s little things like these that contribute to your natural beauty, y/n. i wish you could see it too.”

the pure poetry that poured out of jaemin’s lips stunned you into silence, not only because of how literate he was considering his current state, but because of how much emotion and love was evident in his words, and how you knew that everything he just said was genuine, how he felt was genuine.

“i- babe, that’s so... oh my god, i love you so much!” you were so spellbound by his little confession that you only managed to splutter out a few words, as you threw your arms around jaemin’s neck, unable to express your feelings in any other way than pulling yourself as close to him as possible.

“extra cuteee,” he hummed under his breath, satisfied at your reaction to his summary of the amount of beauty he was subjected to look at every day, “you think what i described was amazing, imagine what you would do if you really saw yourself.”

“yeah, but if i can handle looking at you 24/7, then i think i’ll be fine,” you mumbled into his neck, placing gentle kisses across his collarbones, and grinning between each one.

“okayyyy, i believe you,” jaemin rolled his eyes, pecking your cheek to try and convince you that he did, in fact, believe you, when he completely disagreed anyways.

“hehe, love you, baby.”

“hmmm, love you too, my gorgeous little vampire, i hope one day you realise how beautiful you are, but, until that day, i’ll always be here to remind you of it.”

[raendown]

Day 2 of @narutorarepairweek. Today’s prompt is meet cute!

Pairing: HashiramaIzuna Word count: 1780 Rated T+ Summary: It wasn't as if he hadn't already intended to fall in love that day. Just...maybe not like this.

Follow the link or read it under the cut!

KO-FI and commission info in the header!

Adopt-a-Heart

If he were completely honest Izuna didn’t actually want a dog. What he wanted was a cat – an entire house full of cats – but his ancient landlord was allergic to cat dander and he wasn’t really looking to get kicked out of another apartment. Finding housing in this city had gotten a little insane over the years. It wasn’t as though he didn’t like dogs, though, so with a longing glance towards the wall of cages filled with tiny inquiring faces Izuna turned down the hallway to where the dogs were kept. 

Visiting the local shelter was always a gamble. One never knew what sort of animals had been abandoned or surrendered, what state they would be in, what abuses they might have suffered. Izuna clenched his fists inside his pockets to brace himself and took a deep breath before pushing the door inwards with one of his feet. He knew the sort of sad and lonely faces that would probably be staring back at him until he found a new companion for himself. He knew he couldn’t afford to take all of them home.

He wanted to though. 

In general Izuna considered himself to be a man of great strength. Perhaps not physically but he had excellent self-control and when absolutely necessary he could exhibit incredible patience. Never had his strengths been so tested as this moment walking past cage after cage with doleful eyes staring up at him in the hopes of finding a home in his arms. If only he had the space and money to take every single one of these poor creatures with him, he would have in a heartbeat. 

The apartment he lived in wasn’t suited for a large dog, however, and he knew if he got a small dog his brother was likely to terrify the poor thing in to a tiny heart attack. Madara was even more of a cat person than Izuna himself. With sorrow in his heart he slinked past a little teacup poodle someone had probably bought because it was cute and then abandoned after realizing that even small dogs required lots of work. Then he clutched his chest and hurried past a Great Dane he desperately wished he had a massive yard for. 

When he first stopped it was to peer through the bars at an Airedale who looked in need of a good grooming. Their neighbors growing up had owned two Airedales and he’d always loved their funny faces. Izuna stepped closer – and then scurried back when the animal burst in to motion, snapping and snarling in a raging frenzy. All animals deserved love but this one didn’t seem to have the right disposition for him. 

He wandered along and stopped again to peer in at a Malamute who stared back calmly, head cocked to one side with curiosity. When he shuffled forward this time there were no sudden reactions and it brought a smile to his face, a little more hopeful than he had been a moment ago. Despite knowing better Izuna still slipped a couple of fingers through to give the pup something to sniff. Small cooing noises whispered from his lips but he was disappointed when all it earned him was a sneeze before the dog laid its head down and looked away. Either he didn’t smell interesting enough or this was an animal jaded from too many opportunities offered and taken away. Or maybe the thing was just tired. Who was he to say?

Eyes lingering on the pretty beast he could have happily kept as a companion, Izuna stood up and made a mental note to come back here and try again to win this heart in case there was no one else who caught his interest. A maudlin sigh escaped him as he turned to walk away without taking his eyes off the Malamute. 

Which turned out to be the best mistake of his entire life. Izuna grunted in a sort of breathless way when he crashed headlong in to a solid wall that somehow managed to be both soft and hard at the same time. Something rumbled above his head, something else began to snuffle near his feet, and it took several seconds for all this information to sort itself out as he wavered back and forth dizzily from the impact. Bringing one hand up to rub at the neck muscles which had not appreciated a sudden stop at that angle, Izuna finally cracked his eyes open to see what he’d run in to. 

Then he craned his head back with his eyes rapidly widening as he took in the absolute mountain of a man currently trying to apologize to him. Which was, apparently, the rumbling sound he’d been hearing. 

“Are you alright?” the man was asking with a mildly frantic expression. “I should have been looking where I was going! Oh gosh, I didn’t mean to, I was just distracted with the- I like dogs! That isn’t to say I don’t like people – I love people – I certainly didn’t mean to run over you like that!” 

Izuna continued to stand and just stare as the man rambled on. Eventually he was able to tear his gaze away from the gorgeous face, travel down that gorgeous body, and spy a cheerful little cloud of white peering back up at him. While the pup – Uzushio Eskimo if he was right – wasn’t exactly small, it looked tiny standing next to this human tree. Izuna had the sudden visceral thought that he would give his very last dollar to climb that man like a squirrel. His thoughts were predictably followed by a wild blush. 

“No, I’m fine,” he managed to choke out eventually. “I like your dog.”

“Oh he’s not mine. I volunteer here!” The declaration was made with so much pride that Izuna’s heart very nearly melted in his chest. Gorgeous, tall, kind, and an animal lover. He certainly was ticking off quite a lot of boxes. 

“So he’s…he’s up for adoption then? Because I was looking for a new partner. Pet! I mean, er, I was looking for a new pet. To take home and stuff?” 

Resisting the urge to smack himself in the face for slipping like that was difficult but he managed. Watching an incredible smile blossom across the tree man’s face helped quite a bit, he could admit that easily. Izuna thought to himself that he would probably do many things for that smile. Most of them illegal. He whined quietly to himself when the man leaned forward right in to his personal space where he could inspect velvet brown eyes from up close. 

“Would you like to spend some time getting to know him? He’s such a good boy!”

“Ah, would you be there too?” The question slipped out entirely without his permission and Izuna cringed inside to sound so needy. 

“Oh, are you afraid of dogs?” Eyes wide and entirely sincere, the man took a firmer grip on the leash in his hands. “If you’re afraid of dogs then getting to know him would be a very good idea before you adopt. It makes them so sad to be taken home and then brought right back here.”

Heart melting in his chest with every word, Izuna swallowed thickly and accepted the fact that he was about to make an utter fool of himself just to clear the sad look on a stranger’s face. With a renewed blush and a clearing of his throat he let his eyes fall to the floor, inspecting the tiny white face staring up at him with eager eyes and a bright pink tongue lolling out. 

“I, ah, I’m not afraid of dogs. You’re just…I was hoping to get to know you. You’re…hot.” Where, he wondered desperately, had his usual silver tongue gone? Not in years had he sounded so awkward.

“Me?”

Kneeling down to pet the dog seemed like a much better way to distract himself than standing there like an idiot and staring off in to space so he did that, nodding as he went down. Fingers scratching at a fluffy white chin, cheeks nearly on fire with embarrassment, he nodded. “I really am interested in adopting though so if we could pretend I didn’t just make a giant idiot of myself that would be wonderful.” 

For a handful of moments there was silence but for the sounds of the animals shifting and barking and growling in their kennels. Nothing like true silence, though it was enough to have him cringing at this uncharacteristic awkwardness. In his thoughts he cursed his landlord for being allergic to cats, unwittingly leading him in to this situation. Would that he had met a man like this on any other day when he would have been able to turn on the charm and win himself at the very least one night to make a more lasting impression. Now the only impression he was leaving would surely be that of a blithering idiot. 

“Maybe you would like to come spend some time with both of us?” 

Izuna’s head snapped up so quickly he was surprised the entire thing didn’t snap off and roll on to the floor. 

“Nnngghh?” he gurgled intelligently.

“It’s protocol that staff or a volunteer be in the room the first time a prospective adopter wants to spend time with one of our animals. Ah, I would be very pleased if you got to know both of us.” Somehow the man achieved even higher levels of cute when he broke out in to a shy grin. “My name is Hashirama. It’s very lovely to meet you.” 

“Hashirama. That’s a nice name. I’m Izuna and I have to say, the pleasure is all mine.”

Grateful to have a little of his usual confidence back, Izuna happily accepted the hand that reached out to help him back up. If he maybe shivered a little at just how big the other’s hand was around his own, well, it wasn’t like he hadn’t already made his thoughts clear on that matter. And if he let their touch linger when Hashirama pulled away who could blame him? He’d known the man all of two minutes and already he wanted more. 

When he left two hours later he had a new puppy trotting before him on a leash and a new number saved in his phone that he very much intended to call the next day. In only one conversation he had somehow managed to fall in love – not just with Hashirama, not just with the companion happily wagging his tail, but with the future suddenly spreading itself out before him, unexpected and entirely welcome. 

[tibbinswrites]

Prompt #170: Part 3

So @day-fire​ asked (fist slammed a table) for a part three and made grabby hands... how could I leave those grabby hands empty? I’ve now done prompts for: #1, #2, #4 and #16, #9, #10, #20, #33, #77, #78, #170 (part 1), (part 2), (part 3), #327 and #502 and I’ve finally completed my backlog so I’m not accepting any more prompts at this time.

Also, just in case you weren’t aware, I’m part of an incredible destiel fanfic, art and podfic anthology. Our indegogo page is live here and there are tiers ranging from simply gorgeous PDF copies and all the podfics to beautiful print books with a bunch of other merch like bookmarks and art prints. We are now FULLY FUNDED so this project is a go! Everyone who buys a printed copy of the book now shall definitely be receiving one (and hey, maybe even a hardback one if we make it to 143% funded).

So here it is. The third (and final) part to the original prompt: “Why are you doing this to yourself?”

I hope you like it ^_^ Read the first part here

Read the second part here

Before Chuck’s body even had time to cool (metaphorically of course, there hadn’t been an actual corpse left behind once Jack was through with him), Billie showed up.

“Well done,” she said in that perpetually-sarcastic-yet-somehow-still-serious tone of hers. “You actually did it. I have to admit I’m surprised, it was touch and go there for a while.”

“Okay,” Dean immediately shifted from one fight to the next as he turned to confront Death. “We followed your plan, did your thing and we won. So now, you owe us.”

Watching Billie’s face transform into shocked indignation was worth the demand all by itself.

“My thing?” She said, drawing herself up to her full height, a crackle of dark energy seemed to buzz around her for a moment. “My thing was saving the world, the world that you all live on. I believe that what you mean to say is ‘Thank you’. I owe you nothing and our alliance is done.”

“That’s not how I see it,” Dean insisted stubbornly. “You going after Chuck was more personal than doing us a solid. He was messing with your books and your big picture plan so your beef with him wasn’t exactly altruistic.”

“Dean, what are you doing?” Sam murmured in his ear, stepping forward to grab his shoulder but Dean shook him off, his eyes only on Billie.

“Well you’ve got balls, Winchester, I’ll give you that,” she allowed, looking more amused now than anything, which Dean counted as a win because, you know, even by his standards, he knew that pissing off Death was a monumentally stupid idea. Even Sam’s presence retreated from his side, back towards Jack. “Go on then, tell me. What is it you want? Aside from… oh, I don’t know, your lives, the lives of seven billion people, your entire universe, and of course the fact that your future is your own again. Because none of that counts if my perceived motivation isn’t up to your very hypocritical standards.”

Okay, so maybe she was a little pissed. Nonetheless, Dean ploughed through, his hands balled at his sides, ignoring the warning looks from his family.

“The point is—”

“Just ask me for the favour, Dean,” Billie interrupted smoothly. “It does you no credit to be making demands with faulty logic to try and save yourself a debt. Either I’ll help you or I won’t, but I’ll be more likely to be on your side if you stop insulting me.”

Dean hesitated at that and swallowed hard. She was right, but that didn’t make it any easier. Sure, he made skeevy deals all the time that almost always backfired but at least he usually expected them to. Quid pro quo was something that he understood well. In this life you had to be willing to give a lot to get a little back. Straight up asking for help from a cosmic entity though? That was new, humiliating territory. He had nothing that she wanted from him anymore. He could ask, hell, he could beg, but he knew as well as she did that he had no leverage to stop her from just walking away.

“I want Cas freed of his deal.”

“Dean!” That was Cas, stepping forward, his face filled with compassion and gratitude as he moved into Dean’s line of sight and Dean’s face flooded with heat that Cas could look at him that way, that Cas could still look at him that way. “You don’t have to do this for me.”

“I’m not doing anything,” Dean said, dragging his eyes back to Billie, who was watching them carefully. “I got nothin’ to bargain with, you know that. You don’t want our lives or souls or whatever. Chuck’s already dead and you don’t care if we’re happy or not. I’m just asking, please. Break the deal.”

Billie considered him for a long time, her dark eyes taking him in, taking in Cas and then she was looking past them to where Sam and Jack probably stood before falling back on him. He briefly wondered what she saw… she didn’t like him all that much he was sure and if he had learned anything about her it was that she didn’t do anything that contradicted with whatever her big picture was. What Dean was asking was a pretty heavy shift of the way the stage had been set. But he couldn’t let her just leave without taking what might be his only shot to save the man he loved.

Finally, Billie sighed and took a step back, her grip shifting on her scythe.

“I can’t.”

Dean tried not to wilt, resolutely did not look at Cas. He didn’t want Cas to see the apology in his eyes, the failure.

The entire room was still, not even the dust motes seemed to move. Which was ironic really considering the fact that the world Dean had just helped save was starting to fracture around him.

Dean felt a warm hand on his arm then and a soft voice in his ear.

“Dean, it’s alright.”

“No!” He turned on Cas with all the fury he wanted to direct at Billie, at the Empty. “It’s not alright! How can you just stand there and tell me that you’re fine with being miserable for the rest of your life? How can you justify that? How can you?” he jabbed an accusing finger at Billie, who stared back, impassive in the face of his rage. “After what he’s done for this world, and his part in your plan—which was freaking huge by the way, he did way more than any of us—how can you just stand there and tell me that he doesn’t deserve to be happy?!”

“Deserve has nothing to do with it,” Billie told him calmly. “I told you, I can’t break the deal, because I wasn’t the one to make it. I can, however, make a call.”

And with that, her eyes rolled up into her skull, leaving the blank whites staring out at them all. Disconcerted, Dean glanced around at the others. Cas was still next to him, his presence solid, his eyes almost hopeful. Sam had herded Jack nearer the door in case they needed to bolt, though Dean knew that was more for appearance and instinct’s sake, neither of them were going anywhere, no matter how hairy things got. Jack was staring at Billie, looking pleased if not relaxed. Sam’s eyes met his and Dean wasn’t surprised by the conflict he saw there. He felt it too. He knew as well as Sam did that if he put all his hopes in this and it didn’t pan out, it would destroy him. Sam would back his play, of course he would, he wanted Cas to be happy and safe as much as Dean did, but Dean could see the deep concern there that he knew wasn’t for Cas. He looked away, back to Billie, whose irises were slowly sliding back into place, and the growing puddle of darkness that was beginning to materialise on the concrete floor.

Dean watched, feeling increasingly sick as the black, liquid-looking substance bubbled and rose and solidified into a vaguely humanoid form. There was no face, which was disconcerting as all hell, and the thing’s limbs were just a little too long and… wobbly to be truly human. It was making his brain fuzz over just looking at it. He felt Cas’ grip tighten on his arm.

“What do you want now?” The thing whined, it’s non-face turned in Billie’s direction. It’s voice was perhaps the most surprising thing about it, it was high pitched and nasal (which was impressive considering the thing’s lack of nose) with a slant to the words that Dean couldn’t place. He supposed ‘afterlife dimension’ came with its own accent.

“The angel wants out of his deal,” Billie said. “The humans wish to make what I’m sure will either be a heartfelt plea or some kind of threat.”

“You called me for that? Isn’t this over? Hmmm... I have God and His sister all nicely tucked away and sleeping. Why am I still awake?”

“Look...” Dean said to the goo-creature, and the head swivelled around on a too-loose neck. He stared at where he thought the eyes should be, trying not to be creeped out by the fact he had no idea if his gaze was being returned or not. He also wasn’t sure what tack to try here. He had no more leverage over this thing than he did the Grim Reaper, would it respect a strong stance or was grovelling the way to go? He would do it, if that’s what it took to let Cas live the rest of his life chasing joy. Hell, he would get down on his knees if it meant that he could finally return the words Cas had voiced not three weeks ago. His mind was spinning, but coming up a blank.

So Sam stepped up, taking slow, measured steps to stand at Dean’s other shoulder. “You’ve helped us out before, done Jack a solid when you let him come back and we appreciate that. We also know that you’ve got some issues with Cas and we’d really like to resolve those so that… so you don’t take him.”

“Yeah,” Jack piped up, moving to Cas’ other side. “We’d really rather he stay with us. Without giving up his happiness.”

“Cas is the main reason you still have a place to go back to,” Dean added. “Can’t you just give him a pass? More than anyone he’s earned that.”

“The little shit woke me up!” The creature screeched at them out of its non-mouth. “I haven’t been woken up in the history of ever until that feathered moron came along. All he had to do was sleep, yes, and he couldn’t even do that! So I’m taking him when I damn well please. I gave up my legitimate claim to you, nephilim, just to squeeze out every drop of revenge. You think I’ll go back on that now? Oh, no, no, no, not when the due date is so close, am I right?”

Dean blinked, suddenly getting the feeling that the Empty had stopped talking to them at some point and had started addressing Cas, who he felt perfectly still beside him.

“Am I right, angel?” The thing cooed, “You almost have your happy, don’t you? You’re holding it back by a mere membrane. And now it stands right next to you and tries to get me to change my mind. That has to be nice… seeing how he cares. How they all care.”

Cas said nothing, but in a quick glance Dean saw his lips press together, his eyes lower. The submission hurt Dean more than any outburst of rage at this creature who had stolen all the things that people lived for, everything that Cas had fallen for and given so much of himself to protect. It wasn’t fair that he was now just as cut off from it as when he was a mindless automaton. He should be angry.

“I appreciate what you’re trying to do for me,” he said, still looking down at the floor. “But if this deal breaks, Jack’s soul is forfeit, and I can’t—”

“No it’s not.”

Every head turned to look at Billie, who was the picture of nonchalance, except for the gleam in her eye. “Jack’s soul will go to heaven.”

The Empty spluttered. “I think you’ll find nephilim are my jurisdiction.”

“They are,” Billie agreed, “but Jack’s not a nephilim anymore. Is he?”

Dean gaped in Jack’s direction. The kid frowned, then looked like he was concentrating really hard on something, and then surprise lit his features. “I’m human?”

“Your power was what was needed to defeat God,” Billie explained. “The exact amount of your power. No more, no less. It was never really yours anyway, it was inherited from your father. But you disowned him and chose a father of your own.” She nodded towards Castiel. “That severed the power from you, made your human soul separate from the archangel grace. In reality, Chuck was fighting two of you, Jack, and He was only able to destroy one. Of course, He thought the one worth destroying was the one with the power, leaving you as the other. Pure human. Which,” she smiled at the Empty, “is my jurisdiction.”

If the Empty had a face, Dean was pretty sure it would be glaring fire at Billie. “You’re on their side?” It screeched. Dean winced at the piercing volume. “You want me to break the deal. What? Are you going to keep me awake until I obey, yes? You can’t pull that lever twice, Reaper. I helped you with the old man and the dark one all on the promise that once this was over you’d let me sleep and I know you to be a being of your word.”

“You’re right,” Billie said evenly. “I will keep my promise, regardless of whether or not you help the angel. But I would prefer it if you did. As a favour.” Her eyes flicked briefly to Dean’s at that and a newfound well of respect for Billie threatened to spill out of his dumb mouth. He swallowed it back. He was pretty sure she could see his gratitude. She had already helped them by calling the Empty here, and it would have been more than fair for her to leave them to do the convincing, which he was pretty sure wouldn’t have worked on its own.

The Empty seemed to consider that; clearly weighing the benefit of having Death owe it one against whatever pleasure it would gain from torturing Cas. The decision took far longer than Dean was comfortable with and something snapped in him at the tense silence. His hand found Cas’ and he held it tight, ignoring the surprised look that melted into fondness on his left. He felt a hand land on his opposite shoulder and looked up into Sam’s face. There was a soft smile there, and pride, but there was a twitch in his eyebrow that begged him not to entwine himself so deep that he couldn’t disentangle himself if this all went to shit. Dean couldn’t bring himself to tell him that it was far, far too late for that.

“Hmmm...” The Empty said. “Well… There it is. Looks like Castiel just cashed in his happy.”

Dean’s head snapped around. Cas was looking at him, beaming really. His eyes glittering in the low light, radiant in a way that was different from his grace and far more beautiful. The hand in his gave a gentle squeeze, though there was fear in those eyes now, his moment of pure joy eclipsed by the fact that this could all be gone with his next blink. Dean brought his other hand around to clasp their already joined ones, as if he could just hold tight enough, then nothing could make him let go.

Seeing Cas afraid was like an icy fingertip sliding down his spine. He turned back to the Empty, readying himself to throw a punch or to prostrate himself on the ground and beg, or start another goddamn apocalypse just to draw the fear from those blue, bottomless eyes. It couldn’t end like this, not when they were on the precipice of whatever this promised to be, not when they could finally, finally start living for themselves.

“Please,” Dean said, his voice thick and unwieldy in his mouth. “Please let him stay with me.”

The creature hummed again, an irritating sound that buried into his skull. “Alright.”

It flicked one of its (too bendy) arms in Cas’ direction and the angel cried out in pain, dropping to the floor like a sack of bricks and dragging Dean down too where their hands were still clasped.

“Cas!” Dean yelled as Cas began a low moan that rose in volume and pitch and agony until it was a scream, and then his back arched so dramatically Dean heard it crack, and Cas’ eyes widened to the point of popping. In the next painful convulsion, Cas ripped his hand away from Dean’s.

“Cas!” Dean cried again, scrambling to get it back, to offer what little comfort he could. If these were going to be Cas’ last moments, Dean couldn’t bear the thought that he would have to endure them alone.

Cas’ lips were moving, but all that was escaping was a wordless scream. Dean shook his head, not understanding as Cas’ agitation only grew. He looked around at each member of his family crouched next to him, and terror dominated his expression.

“Eyes!” The word was strangled. “Help—”

Suddenly, the sound of Cas’ screams cut out at the same moment the world turned black. Dean’s vocal chords strained around Cas’ name, around Sam’s name, but he couldn’t hear either. He felt Cas in front of him, writhing and solid and silent, felt the hard concrete under his knees, felt the fabric of a jacket as he reached out blindly with his other hand. But all he saw was blackness. Fear roared inside him. He couldn’t see his family, he didn’t know what was happening to Cas. Had he gone blind? Deaf? Was Cas looking to him for a final comfort?

Worst of all was when Cas’ hand went limp.

Dean was pretty sure he was losing his mind. He was sure he was screaming, sure he was yelling himself hoarse, cursing the Empty, Billie, God. He dropped his hand from what he was pretty sure was Sam’s shoulder and moving it to his own face. He felt wetness there, sweat or tears he wasn’t sure. All he knew was that Cas wasn’t moving and he had no idea what to do except clutch that hand in between both his own and hope.

Just as suddenly as it had vanished, sound returned. He heard his own name in Sam’s voice and a moment later, his brother’s scared face materialised in front of him, and Jack was there too, his own face pale and scrunched in confusion and discomfort as he shook himself. There was also a horrible, burbling sound that it took him far too long to realise was coming from him. He took a deep breath to stop it and looked over at where the Empty and Billie had been stood.

They were gone.

“What the hell was that?” Dean asked, his voice raspy and worn out.

“No idea,” Sam said, looking a little ill. “But it really sucked.”

“Yeah.” As the adrenaline leaked away from his brain, leaving his extremities tingling, he flexed his hand and found he was still holding onto something.

Cas!

With a jolt, Dean looked at the still figure lying on the ground. His eyes were closed and there were black shapes on the floor extending from his shoulders.

“No,” He moaned, squeezing his eyes shut again, flashbacks of a cabin, of another joyous moment turned to ash, of a grief so heavy he’d buckled under it the first time, how could anyone ask him to even lift it now?

He heard Sam swallow next to him, clearly floundering for whatever words he thought Dean needed to hear.

He heard Jack’s breath hitch, then. “Wait. Look!”

Dean blinked heavily. Jack was staring at the black marks, then he reached forward and picked up a feather. Four inches long and inky black, the thing gleamed in the poor light. Despite the urgent pleas of his heart, Dean looked more closely at what he had assumed to be just scorch marks. There were more feathers. Loads of them, filling in gaps in the patchy outlines of Cas’ wings. They were how Cas’ wings had looked the last time Dean had seen their shadows; there weren’t enough feathers to make the wings complete, Cas had shed plenty over the years after all, but there were still dozens of them. All the feathers Cas had had left, if Dean were to guess. He didn’t know what to make of it and although he could hear Sam’s brain whirring as it tried to put the pieces together, Dean couldn’t quite bring himself to care what it meant. He leaned over Cas and smoothed the hair back from his forehead, numbness crawling its way along Dean’s limbs and tightening around his nerves. He arranged the body how he would if the pyre was already built, pretty sure someone was talking around him but unable to take any of it in. He adjusted the coat, laid Cas’ hands carefully by his sides, fixed the tie.

While he did that last one, his hand passed over Cas’ chest and he felt a flutter beneath his fingertips. He paused for a second and felt it again. Hope surged through him so fast it was painful. He pressed his palm to Cas’ chest and waited. Please, please, please, please, please.

Thump.

“He’s alive!”

Dean began to gently tap his fingers against Cas’ cheek, calling for him over and over again, his other hand feeling the steady, human beat of Cas’ heart.

“Come on, sweetheart, wake up.”

Cas groaned, the most wonderful sound that had ever graced Dean’s ears. All the air escaped him as Cas began to twitch, his eyelids fluttered and he blinked them open.

“I love you too,” Dean blurted out, physically unable to keep the words in any more. “I love you so freaking much Cas, and I’m real glad you’re not dead.”

“Me too,” Cas said blearily, pushing himself to a sitting position, only to be bowled over again by Dean launching himself into his arms. Corny or not he couldn’t help it. He needed to hold him, surround himself in Cas’ warmth and Cas’ smell and Cas’ love. He needed to feel the life around them. “You make me very happy, Dean.”

Dean said nothing, but he shoved his face in closer to Cas’ neck.

After a few moments he deemed himself recovered enough to pull back and help Cas to his unsteady feet. Jack moved in for the next hug and Cas’ eyes went soft with wonder as he embraced his son, finally allowed to feel the joy that such a gesture brought. Sam was next, pulling him into a sasquatch-worthy bone-crushing hug and whispering something that Dean couldn’t catch, though their grins were bright and a little teary as they separated.

Cas then looked down at the feathers scattered on the ground and bent to gather a few. “Angel feathers can be useful spell ingredients,” he said by way of an explanation as he stuffed them into his coat pocket. “And it’s not as though I have a use for them anymore.”

“You know, we could try and find a way… if you wanted...” Dean started to offer, and even though Dean wasn’t sure if the Empty had completely destroyed Cas’ grace or what and had no idea how to even start that quest, he knew with certainty that he would find a way if that was what Cas chose.

Cas was already shaking his head, a small smile on his lips.

“No. I think… I think I’m tired of being an angel. I don’t want to watch humanity anymore, I want to be a part of it. I want to enjoy this, every moment that I get to love and be loved in return is a treasure I never could have imagined before I met you.”

“So… home?” Dean asked, more than ready to start building the rest of his life with his brother, his son and this newly-human man who had never looked like more of an angel to him.

Cas nodded and reached for him, slotting their fingers together.

“Home.”

[dianaallvarez]

Dark Academia Book Tag

Hello! this is the very first post for my book themed tumblr, (this is a side blog, my main is @dianaallvarez), and I wanted to wait until I had finished my current read to post, but I’m quite excited about building this space. And I chose this lovely tag created by CarolynMarieReads and  * e m m i e * from YT to introduce myself. 

Dark Academia Book Tag Questions: 

1. What is you favorite "academia" or "dark" book + movie? 

Book:  Enigma Variations by André Aciman. 

The books follows the life of Paul from his teenage to his adult years through the eyes of his love experiences. I think this is a very unusual pick because it is not a dark book, at least not dark academia dark. But it has the elements that I enjoy about da: the very witty, talented, scholar protagonist who struggles with  himself; art, music, literature, glowing scenarios, YEARNING. I love Aciman’s writing above many things and the way he takes you deep into the character’s mind to the point of losing yourself.

Movie: The Dreamers (2003) directed by: Bernardo Bertolucci

A young American studying in Paris in 1968 strikes up a friendship with a French brother and sister. Set against the background of the ’68 Paris student riots. (Letterboxd).

I love love love this film with a passion. And this film loves films too, JESUS. Philosophy, poetry, the streets of Paris, desire, the way this three young people embrace their love for art and all things raw and beautiful mesmerizes me. The burning of the outside. I can’t put into words how much I adore watching it. 

2. What dead poet would you like to have a drink with? 

Percy Bysshe Shelley, he is one of my favourite poets of all time. Love’s Philosophy, Time, Good-Night, his poems make shiver. Also, if we were to have a drink, Mary would probably be there, so, double win.

3. What is your favorite painting and/or sculpture? 

Monet’s Antibes, view from the Salis Gardens [1888] Monet is probably my favourite painter, I also love his nympheas, water lilies, peaches and Rio della Salute.

4. What is your favorite architectural marvel? 

My hometown is pretty cool, architecturally. So, yeah. Morelia. 

5. What Shakespeare play would you like to be the lead in? 

Richard III, mainly because of Al Pacino’s docu-drama. He seems a very complex and miserable character, I would love to build a performance around him.

6. How many languages do you speak and which language would you most like to learn? 

I can only speak Spanish and English. 

My target language is Italian, I really like how musical it sounds, and the words are BEAUTIFUL, like, Insieme (juntos, together), mmmm love it. I’m also interested in learning French of course, (one of my goals in life is to watch french movies without subtitles), and Russian! The sound is gorgeous and I’ve read some russian poems (Tarkovsky ESP / ENG) in Spanish and I want to read them in Russian too.

7. What is your favorite quote (from poetry, prose, plays, etc.)? 

Chuck Palahniuk’s “Your handwriting. The way you walk. Which china pattern you choose. It’s all giving you away. Everything you do shows your hand. Everything is a self-portrait. Everything is a diary”

8. What fictional character's death is your ideal way to go? 

I don’t want to go, as in go death. But I want to go from home, so my ideal way to go would be... idk, soon?

9. What university/college would you most like to attend? 

This is a sad one because it is practically impossible for me to go to the college of my dreams, ever; the major I want isn’t even avaliable in my town, nor in my whole state! Enough ranting tho. I’d love Edinburgh Uni or UCL.

10. I’m skipping this one, sorry.

11. What mythology would you most like to be a part of? 

Norse mythology! The fact that there’s little information about it makes it so appealing to me. Also its connection with nature and humanity, the diversity of creatures, the main values, the symbology. I love Norse mythology for so many reasons, some of them spiritual, it means so much to me that sometimes I feel a part of it already.

12. If you had a PhD what would you choose to do it on? 

English Lit., I’ve consumed it since I was 12 y/o, I feel in love with Literature through English Literature. But there’s no place for it on this school system:(, we are a whole different world. Still I hope I can study it someday <3

13. Which fictional character would you die for? 

Robb Stark from the A Song of Ice and Fire series. I grew up reading him!, I felt such a strong bond with the character, it broke me to read his death. When he was fourteen, I was fourteen; when he was fifteen, I was fifteen... something in me left with him, and even though he’s a fictional character I carry him always, and I adore him to infinity.

Rapid-fire: Pick One!! 

1. Leather bound or cloth bound books 

I only own leather.

2. Dog-earing pages or highlighting pages 

Both.

3. Sculptures or paintings 

Paintings.

4. Piano or violin 

Cello, Oboe and Guitar are superior.

5. Films or theatre 

Films. 

6. Poetry or prose 

Prose.

7. Museums or bookshops 

Bookshops.

8. The smell of books or the smell of coffee/tea 

Books.

9. Fountain pen or typewriter 

Fountain pen.

10. New or used books

New and  used, as long as they’re complete.

[shitiger]

Baron Draxum x Lou Jitsu: Feudal Japan Au

https://archiveofourown.org/series/1556719

Story 2 from Lou Jitsu x Baron Draxum Ficlets.  (Rated M for the suggestive parts)

(Summary: Hamato Yoshi happens upon a handsome youkai out in the forest.  A friendly sparring match turns into much more. (Lou Jitsu/Hamato Yoshi x Baron Draxum).

“Gorgeous,” Yoshi whispered to himself, leaning over the tree branch for a better look.  He had rushed off to the forest in an attempt to avoid his chores, something he did quite often, but he hadn’t expected to run into a youkai in the area.  His clan was tasked with battling any monsters they presumed to be a threat, so the creatures normally stayed far away from their temple.  But the youkai man beneath the tree wasn’t actually doing anything wrong, Yoshi observed.  He had placed his basket full of herbs on the grass, and was standing motionless as he watched the waterfall in the distance.

The young man felt his cheeks redden as the figure began to remove his dark robe, the fabric sliding down his thick, muscular teal shoulders.  Hot damn!   The youkai folded his robe, and placed it next to the basket. He half turned, giving Yoshi an amazing view of perfectly plump lips, long maroon hair, and delicate horns that curled up on either side of his cheeks.  The monk suddenly felt a little too warm, and tried to readjust his body to avoid the unpleasant feeling of his lower half pressed against the tree branch.  Unfortunately, his usually superior skills were combined with his distracted gaze, and he found himself tumbling ungracefully out of the tree.

“A human!” the youkai exclaimed, adjusting his form into a battle stance.  Even half clothed, he was clearly able to take care of himself.

Dazed from the fall, but still very, very interested, Yoshi blurted out, “Wow, you’re really a looker, aren’t you.”

“A looker?” The youkai’s lips twisted into a grimace. “Are you attempting to flirt with me?”

“Is it that obvious?” Yoshi asked, wiggling his eyebrows as he pushed himself into a seated position, his back resting against the tree.  The larger male rolled his golden eyes in response, his stance a becoming a little less dangerous.  “I’m…”  I can’t give him my real name name, or he’ll know my family is obsessed with youkai hunting. “I’m Lou… Jit…sue?”

“Lou Jitsu?”

“Yes. Exactly.  That’s my name.  A perfectly normal name. Not suspicious at all,” Yoshi whispered the last bit from the corner of his mouth, even as he got to his feet.  The youkai shifted back into a crouched stance, clearly waiting for him to attack.

“No, no, you can relax.  I’m friendly.  I promise.”

“Friendly? You’re a human warrior. Or perhaps you’re a simpleton if you have no concerns when it comes to spying on dangerous youkai,” the larger male stated.

Yoshi glanced down at the basket of herbs, and raised an eyebrow.  “You don’t look that dangerous to me.  But with those muscles, it’s clear that you keep yourself in shape.  You wanna spar with me?”

“You want me to attack you?” the youkai said, clearly thrown off by his request.

“Not at all.  Just two guys, hanging out, having a friendly sparring match. No blood, no killing.  Just the two of us getting to know each other,” Yoshi said, taking what he hoped was a non-threatening step forward.

“Sparring with a human.  My father would roll over in his grave if he knew I had let you live.  But he was old-fashioned, and I am not.  Very well, Lou Jitsu.  I shall honor your request.  But if you attempt to double-cross me, you will not leave this clearing alive.”

“Sounds like a plan. But it seems like I’m a bit overdressed.  Just gonna slip out of this,” Yoshi said, scrambling to remove his robe.  He finally tossed the robe and belt to side.   Now they were evenly matched. Just two men standing about in their baggy pants, waiting to fight one another.  Well, one guy in baggy pants. The other was wearing some kind of long loincloth that nearly hung down to his cloven feet.

“What are your terms for this battle?” the youkai asked, narrowing his golden eyes.

“Terms?  Oh, yeah.  Well, as I said, no bloodshed or killing.  First one to pin the other down…” Yes, pin me down you sexy...!  No, Yoshi, now is not the time for your hormonal thoughts!  “Uh, yeah. First one to pin the other for a count of three wins,” the human blurted out.

“And if you win?  Not that you will, of course, but if you do manage to win, what are you planning to ask of me?” the taller male inquired.

“Oh, prizes.  Right.  You could tell me your name.  I mean, you haven’t actually told me your name, big guy,” the monk said, his tone flirtatious.

“Very well,” the youkai agreed.

“What about you?  What will you ask me if you win?” Yoshi inquired, his curiosity peaked.

A secretive smile spread over the youkai’s teal lips, his keen eyes flashing with amusement. “I will keep that to myself, for now.  But rest assured, as long as you do not attempt to go back on your promise to keep this fight fair, I will not ask too much of you when I win.”

“You’re awful cocky.  I like that,” Yoshi said, answering the other man’s smile with a smirk of his own.  “Don’t keep me waiting.”

***

“Well now,” the youkai purred, his muscular body pressing Yoshi down onto the grass in all the right ways. “It looks like I’ve won our little sparring match.”

“Yeah,” the monk managed to say, his mouth suddenly dry.  Oh man, this wasn’t good.  He was definitely heating up in a way that was going to be very obvious, very soon. The youkai tilted his head to look at him, his golden eyes glinting in what he hoped was interest… but it could have been amusement.

“What to do with you, my little human warrior.  You’d make quite the prize if I were to kidnap you away to my castle,” the youkai said, his voice deliciously deep.

“You live in a castle?” Yoshi asked, but his body was simply agreeing with the other man’s suggestion whole-heartedly.  Blood rushed to his cheeks as the youkai leaned closer, his plump lips nearly brushing the monk’s ear.

“My name is Baron Draxum, and yes, pretty human, I live in a castle.”

“You think I’m pretty?” Yoshi said, stunned.

“With abs like these?” Draxum purred, running sharp, yet deceptively delicate fingers down the monk’s chest.  “You are most certainly a very pretty specimen.”

“Yeah, well you’re not so bad yourself,” Yoshi shot back, taking the opportunity to wrap his arms around the taller man’s waist.

“You’re rather presumptuous for a man who was just defeated,” Draxum exclaimed, but his voice trailed off into a low chuckle.

“Guess I’m just that kind of guy.  Fair warning, if you don’t get off me, I’m going to kiss you,” Yoshi announced, loosening his grip on the other male’s waist.  Just in case.

“Are you now?” the youkai answered.  “I think you’ve forgotten which one of us owes the other a prize.”

“And what would Baron Draxum desire for a prize?” the monk asked teasingly. Gentle claws traced his cheeks, before the youkai surged down, pressing teal lips against his.  Yoshi could only groan, his fingers curling around the larger man’s back. He could feel Draxum’s thick thighs pressed between his legs, and it only made his body burn hotter. A single clawed hand stroked down his chest, tweaking a darkened nipple, before sliding down further to cup his rear possessively.  

Yoshi let out an unmanly squeak, his arms rising to clench around his lover’s firm upper back.  They ground against one another, barely noticing the sun starting to sink in the distance.  With one last twirl of his tongue, the youkai leaned back, smirking at the monk’s disheveled state.

“This was quite an unexpected delight, but I must take my leave.  Perhaps I shall return to spar with you again in the near future, son of the Hamato clan,” Draxum purred, pushing himself to his feet.  Without a backward glance, he strode back to the stream to pull on his robes.

“Yeah, that would be fun…” Yoshi had just gotten to his feet when his lover’s words finally pierced his kiss-fogged mind.  His head shot up, his jaw dropping in amazement.  “You know who I…?”

“It wasn’t difficult to deduce.  The Hamato temple is not far from here, and you are quite well trained in martial arts.  Now, are you going to give me your true name, or shall I keep calling you Lou Jitsu?” Draxum asked, clearly amused at the thought of the human trying to trick him.

Sighing in defeat, Yoshi rubbed the back of his neck, and stepped forward, looking up at his new lover with a hesitant smile. “You’ve got me.  It’s Yoshi.  Hamato Yoshi.  Sorry for the ruse.  I didn’t want to spook you away.”

“Because I’m quite the – looker – as you put it,” the youkai chuckled, reaching out to pull the bare-chested man into a last, soft kiss.

“Yeah. Definitely a looker,” Yoshi sighed, stepping back reluctantly once the taller man had released him.  “No jokes… Will I see you again?”  The youkai raised a brow, but nodded, the smile of on his lips echoing a promise for another day.

“Okay, I’ll see you later. Don’t be a stranger,” Yoshi said, even as he watched Draxum heft the delicate basket into the crook of his muscular arm.  The youkai nodded at him, before striding off in the opposite direction of the Hamato temple.

It didn’t take long for Draxum to reach the side of the waterfall. As the monk stood in awe, the youkai bounded up the side of the rocky cliff, as agile as a mountain goat.  Once he’d reached the top, the baron turned to look at him, his lips quirking into a smile. Yoshi gave a little wave – no, a very manly wave, and was delighted when Draxum responded with a single raised hand in his directly.  Soon, even the youkai’s luscious red hair was out of sight, and Yoshi forced himself to turn away.   Reaching for his robe, he haphazardly shrugged it on, and tied the belt into place, before beginning his long walk back to the village.

Baron Draxum.  A youkai with the body of a god, and a voice as smooth as silk.  If his family found out, they’d disown him.  And yet, the young monk couldn’t bear the thought of never seeing his teal-skinned lover again.  Never tasting his warm lips, or feeling his rock-hard muscles.   They hadn’t even gotten into each other’s pants yet! Yoshi could only wonder, and fantasize, about what he’d find under the taller man’s loin-cloth.  Little Yoshi was perking up again, the young man realized. Good thing it was getting dark.

Wait a minute.  It was getting dark!  He was still pretty deep in the woods. It wasn’t like anyone was going to see him if he took care of his little… his big and manly issue!  Nodding to himself, Yoshi took another quick glance around, and then settled himself down at the base of a thick-trunked tree.  “Mmm… I bet Drax is nice and thick,” Yoshi murmured to himself, even as his hand drifted down his pants.

***

“How unexpected. It seems my new pet is even more delightful than I imagined,” Baron Draxum purred, watching the young man bring himself to completion.  He’d done the right thing by conjuring up a scrying spell to keep an eye on the monk.  All in the interest of making sure the human got back to his temple in one piece, of course. He certainly hadn’t expected Hamato Yoshi’s little show, but he wasn’t going to deny that it was leaving him rather… frustrated, as well.

“The next time I see him, he won’t be wearing pants for long,” Draxum promised, eager to return to his castle for a bit of alone time himself.  Just the thought of defeating the cocky little human warrior, and then pinning him to a tree was enough to have him breaking into a run.  He would not resort to fondling himself in the woods like some low-class youkai, but he could not fault his pretty pet from needing a bit of release — the man was only human, after all.