#Sal is a dirty little creature

[entomolog-t]

The Shadow We Cast - 2

My last G/t July Prompt that will actually be done in July; Melancholy!

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Previous Chapter: Chapter 1

Next Chapter: Chapter 3

Word count: 2460

CW: Adult language, mild gore (butchering food, mentions of blood), substances (beer)

My kitchen, thankfully, didn’t look as bad as I had expected in the aftermath of Sal’s butchering. Don’t get me wrong, it still looked like a scaled down horror scene, complete with the bowl filled with various innards and traces of little bloodied hand and foot prints smeared about, but Sal had done a remarkable job keeping the carnage to a minimum. The three or four beers I’d downed while waiting also seemed to have helped mitigate my queasiness. If you squint it's just chicken... just … don’t think too hard.

Instead, I turned my gaze down to the little man on my counter. He was absolutely beaming. With one hand perched on his hip and the other wielding the ridiculously oversized knife, he smiled up at me, clearly proud of his handiwork. He’d shed a layer or two of clothing in the process of butchering and I tried not to dwell on questioning if that was more, or less sanitary. What I did dwell on however, was him. Man, he was a burly little thing… while the sheer difference in size between us made it near impossible to pick up on the finer details of his features without being intimately close, I didn't have to be uncomfortably close to notice he, in spite of his stature, was a sizable man. Lean, and wildly muscular, boasting a broad chest and narrow waist… he could have told me he was an action figure brought to life and I wouldn't have hesitated to believe him.

“I cut, you cook?” The question sounds less like a true question and more akin to instruction. He shifted awkwardly under my gaze.

“Oh- uh, yeah man, sure thing.” While his proficiency in butchering more than surpassed my expectations, I was not about to trust a questionably feral miniature man with any sort of cooking appliances. I eyed the meat cautiously, two main thoughts becoming prominent in my mind; I was not about to cook hawk on any of my pans, and I was most certainly not about to eat it plain.

The weight of his eyes on me was somehow heavier than he himself. I felt him watch as I rummaged through the fridge, pulling out a mishmash of ingredients to make a half-assed gochujang sauce. With a quick wipe down of a section of the counter I took out a second cutting board, dishes be damned, and began to mince some garlic. He took a step back, wrinkling his nose at the smell. He eyed the garlic, among the other ingredients, warily. I smiled to myself. Oh sure, I’m the bad guy for questioning hawk, but garlic is gross? Though, to his credit, he kept his thoughts to himself.

He busied himself with inspecting the various ingredients I’d brought out, padding around each container curiously. He paid particularly close attention as I emptied a sizeable amount of maple syrup into the bowl, lingering just close enough to peer down into the mix.

“Do you want to try some?” I ask, holding up the spoon to him. His eyes bounce between me and the contents of the spoon before he gives in and dips a finger into the mix. The sight of his tiny hand gripping the edge of the spoon was jarring. Ignoring his surroundings he looked so… normal. So human… but seeing him directly contrasted against such a mundane object almost felt like an optical illusion. He examines the sauce for a moment, brow furrowed and nose wrinkled, seemingly unsure of what to make of it. With a small shrug, his curiosity wins over, and he gives the sauce a taste. His face is immediately alight with shock, and he turns to look at me with an expression of awe.

“Uh… you like it?” Instead of a verbal response, he reaches his hand back onto the spoon, taking a near fistful of sauce. I turn my head to avoid him catching sight of the face I pull at the stomach churning image of a full grown man mowing down on sauce as if it's Michelin-Starred decadence. I ignore the soft yelp he makes in protest as I pull the spoon away, and quickly interject before he can voice his disgruntlement .

“So, I’m thinking we cook these up on the barbecue outside.” I say, averting my gaze from the little monstrosity and the plethora of grotesque slurping sounds coming from his general direction as he licks his fingers clean. Sal makes a sort of hum in agreement. Had he washed his hands after butchering the hawk? I suppress a gag. I needed another drink. Stuffing a few beers under one arm, I haphazardly gathered up the sauce, tongs and meat with my free hand. With my arms more than a little full, I cast my gaze down to Sal,

“Uh, I’ll just set this up outside and then come ba-”

He jumped.

Had my reaction time been any better I’m sure I would have flinched out of the way of the tiny man throwing himself off the counter towards me, but instead all I managed was a yelp in surprise. He caught two handfuls of my shirt fabric and climbed up my midsection with an uncanny speed that could put a seasoned rockclimber to shame. The feeling of such a small and fast moving being freely skittering up my body made my skin crawl. He situated himself near the crook of my arm, a little too suspiciously close to the sauce for my liking, and patted my arm as if I were a horse he was kicking into gear.

---

What a way to travel! I couldn’t help but stare in absolute wonder as the ground flew by, with Mark seemingly moving slow yet covering such boggling distances with each step. This was exhilarating! My heart raced in my chest, and as I leaned back against Mark, I noticed with a bit of a chuckle, so did his.

He made his way out to the porch towards some large metal contraption he had referred to as a bar-bah-kyou? I hopped off onto what seemed like a sort of counter top jutting out from the barbah-thingy’s side as he emptied his arms. As I approached the vaguely tank-like structure, Mark fiddled with something beneath the machine. Upon examination, the barbah-thingy had a handle on the front as well as an assortment of dials lining its base. As I made my way closer, Mark’s hand tentatively blocked my path. I shot him a glare as he pushed me back, and he returned an apologetic smile.

“Uh, just… stand back a little.” He pressed a button. An almost insectoid clicking sound emanated from the machine. There was a whoosh, followed by a sudden increase in heat as the machine was somehow brought to life. Grinning, Mark opened up the tank-thing to show off the flames roaring up inside.

Well, that was certainly easier than rubbing sticks together.

Before I could get a closer look, he closed the lid.

“It's gotta heat up a bit before we're good.” I snorted. It seemed plenty hot to me, but he was in charge of cooking, so I wasn’t about to be fussy. He offered his hand, and I swung myself on, only to immediately be set down on a table between two wooden chairs, with Marking dropping himself into the chair to my left. He stared down at me for a moment before reaching for another one of the metallic cans.

The can made an odd hissing sound as Mark pried open the lid. As he took a swig from the can, I inspected the collection of its unopened brethren beside me. The cans were cool to the touch, with little beads of moisture forming along their surface. The muggy summer air loomed around me, tempting me to lean against the chilled metal surface of the can, but I decided against the potential social faux pas. There were mountains decorating the can, along with bright red letters. It had been a while since I'd seen human writing, especially the squiggly kind, and I wracked my brain trying to place the sounds to the letters. C…ow… ers? C-oo..wers? I felt my brow furrow in frustration. A contented sigh from Mark interrupted my attempts to decode his drink.

“What’re you drinking?” Mark looked a little caught off guard. He chuckled.

“It’s beer.” Beer? Man I was way off on my human spelling. Yikes. “Do you, uh... want some?”

The thought of the cool condensation made that an easy and enthusiastic yes from me. He reached for his can and hesitated. A wide smile formed on his face as he stood. I suppressed the urge to take a step back at his sudden movement. Fuck was he ever big.

“Sick. Lemme go get you a glass.”

Mark returned with a glass that was somehow comically small pinched between his massive fingers, yet within my own hands seemed more like a hefty bucket. Although the bucket-glass would undoubtedly be a bit of a challenge to drink from, I wasn't about to complain about getting more than my fair share of a cool drink.

As he filled my glass he cast me a wary gaze,

“Um, Sal? Have you … had alcohol before?”

“I thought this was beer.” He snorted. I had no idea why his mistake was so funny.

“I guess that's a no?” I shrugged. How could I know if I’d had it if I didn’t know what it tasted like. He laughed again and I smiled, albeit a bit nervously. What was so funny to him?

“Um.. it makes you feel good. Um, almost tingly? But if you have a lot it makes you feel a bit slow and your thoughts feel a bit…um, weird. It lowers inhibitions and-” he prattled on about how this “special drink” would make you feel, but all I could think of was how cool the glass felt against the palms of my hand. The liquid was a warm amber colour filled with bubbles that collected into a soft layer of foam at the top. It hissed quietly as the bubbles rose to the surface. A cool drink that made you feel good? Fine by me. With a bit more effort than would be desirable I lifted the drink to my lips and took a long chug. The size of the glass paired with its awkward weight made trying to control the flow of the liquid a borderline impossible task. As I tilted the glass I got a cool shock as the beer splashed against the entirety of my face, and given the heat, I really had no complaints. The bubbles were strange and stung at my throat but the strangely crisp taste was invigorating. I gulped greedily, not bothered that beer was running down my neck. The change in temperature from the spill was a welcome one.

“Woah, dude” Mark chuckled, placing the tip of his finger on the edge of my glass to guide it away from my face, “Pace yourself.” I shot him a glare, but couldn’t help letting a smirk escape. I held up my glass, making a show of comparing it to his own,

“I think if I’m pacing myself with you I’m still a ways behind.” He shook his head, laughing, and took a long sip from his drink. I did the same. This was nice. The summer heat felt almost enjoyable with his company, especially with the beer included in the equation.

“So… Have you been here long?” I cocked my head, unsure of what he meant, “Um…you know, in the area.” He clarified as he gestured to the expanse of his yard. I stared ahead, feeling as though if I stared hard enough I’d be able to look back through the years I’d been here.

“Yeah, it's been a while.” I took another sip.

“Do you like it here?” That question, casual as it may be, caught me off-guard. Did I like it here? This area was familiar. I’d been in the same spot far longer than I could remember. From the perspective of the porch I felt I could look out at the yard and see the memories that littered what had become my "home range"… The tree I’d climbed when a particularly bad storm had flooded the yard… the spot right below where a squirrel had chased me from their cache… the lattice work right beneath the window where I used to climb to - I shook the memories away.

“It’s home.”

I felt a strange yet familiar feeling claw at the edges of my mind. An emptiness… A total lack of… something. I took another sip, hoping to drown the thoughts, and with any luck, maybe find what I was missing at the bottom of my glass. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Mark smile, though it didn’t quite reach the rest of his face. He heaved a weary sigh before speaking, a sound that conveyed far more to me than whatever words would follow.

“I hope it’ll start to feel like home for me soon.” He stood, making his way to the fire-tank-thing. The sun had come close to setting, leaving the sky ablaze with warm hues- a stunning display of pinks and golds igniting the horizon. Mark stood out against the backdrop, shrouded in shadow, more like a part of the treeline than a living being… he was fucking massive- no... It wasn’t him that was massive…something deep within the recesses of my brain resented seeing him like that… I took another deep sip from the glass, flushing the thought from my mind. I closed my eyes and leaned back, listening to the sounds of birds in the air, and breathing in the smell of meat roasting above a flame. Though the summer heat was waning, it was as if an ember was being stoked from within my core. A persistent warmth seemed to be rising up from within, as if the very essence of the season had somehow been ignited in my soul. I felt… good.

With my eyes closed I could picture what it would be like… just sitting in the chair to my right, cold can of beer in hand… looking out across a yard I could clear in a handful of strides… Mark sitting down in the chair to my left, not looking down, but instead looking at me. I didn’t care so much for the specifics of the imagery my brain has conjured up… but more so what it seemed to represent in my mind. The image felt close… comfortable, whereas I … when I opened my eyes I felt so far away.

I took another drink.

[orchidyoonkook]

The Devil Wears Valentino | MYG

Title: The Devil Wears Valentino  

Pairing: Devil!Min Yoongi x (F)!Reader

Rating//Genre: (M) | One Shot, Spooky AU, Supernatural Creatures AU, Not Quite Friends to Lovers, Age Gap, Technically Slice of Life, Angst, Smut and Fluff

Summary: Having known him for years—from a small mistake on your behalf, and a favour on his—you’re one of the only people he seems to be able to put up with for company. Certainly the only one he’s half-way decent with. But what’s more surprising to you is that despite his name, reputation, and the fact he’s always joked he’d have killed anyone else by this point, is that he’s never once tried to cause you harm. 

Actually, he’s almost…protective of you. In his own weird way.

And obnoxiously flirty.

Warnings: language, violence, tae is a menance, drinking and alcohol, Min Yoongi as the Devil -> Lucifer Morningstar? we dont know him, mentions of murder, mentions of torture, mentions of rape -> Sal's an ass and he deserved what he got, somewhat graphic gore/horror (yoon tries her best but she's not very good at spooky), slight POV switches, one (1) mention of reader having hair, fluffy in parts,

Explicit warnings under the cut.

Word Count: 10,488

Release Date: October 31, 2023, 12:00PM

A/N 1: Ahhhh! Welcome to my very first halloween special!!! I wanted to do something for my favourite holiday this year, and I've had this title written down without a plot for maybe just over a year? So I'm really excited to finally use it!!

A/N 1.5: Thank you to my absolute darling @katykatmeow for beta'ing this for me so late in the night. I adore you so much

A/N 2: The whiskey glass and whiskey are hand drawn vectors because I'm a glutton for punishment. Why do I keep doing this to myself.

Explicit Warnings: ahaha uhhh, unprotected sex (dont be stupid) kissing, breast play, fingering, oral (f rec), groping, pet names (sickening amount), dirty talk, praise, slight degredation, hair pulling (m rec), spitting, handjob, body worship, cowgirl, from the back, missionary, a lil bit of crying, spanking, size kink, voice kink, hand kink (look, he's a lot okay, don't blame reader), sl*t/wh*re mentions, multiple orgasms, creampie, I think thats it? Yoon went a little bananas with this one.....

Slow jazz floats through the air of the club, wading around the modestly-sized venue. You’d say it was almost cozy, but with the expensive feel of the place, cozy just didn’t seem like the right word. 

Intimate. That would be a better choice. 

From behind the bar where you stand, to the velvet couches in the back covered by decently dressed lesser demons, piano plays alongside gentle drums. Dark navy cushions soak in their conversation of effective torture methods, discussed like stock market trends, they dissect the best way to decapitate someone so you can instill the most pain and suffering. 

The answer is always with a dull knife and from the back, blindly. Never knowing when the next cut will be is half the agony. 

You try not to pay attention to that though, because the only thing you need to know is that they drink Vodka Tonics and lesser demon number four’s glass is looking to be on the emptier side.

He’ll be back for another soon.

While you wait for his arrival, the rhythmic notes continue on, gliding along shiny, black floor tiles. They pass the burgundy leather booths that face the stage, full of vampires trying to relive long lost youth in the old melodies played. They turn to stone just a little bit more with every passing minute they’re forced to live, keeping no company besides the pleasant burn down their throats and ever present melancholy. 

Banshees listen in from the mezzanine, only ever soft spoken when they’re here. Covered by velvet draped ceilings that dampen sounds to the outside world, the women of three distinct ages sit at tall tables. The young in heels and short dresses, proudly showing off their youth, while the elders choose more elegant wares, content as they can be in their skin, considering their blood soaked pasts. 

Banshees tend to discuss privately amongst themselves, ordering walk up service so as to never mingle with the men on the floor. You can’t blame them, especially knowing how they all got here in the first place, but they’re polite when they enter, greeting you kindly despite what you are to them. The trays you bring up for them never waver from their drink of choice, The Irish Sour.

And then there are the Djinn, who come in mostly just to pass the time. Sitting by themselves at the bar, or in no more than groups of two at a far table, they never interact with anyone other than the bartender or themselves. Djinn are increasingly solitary creatures of the night, with the fear of their kind lessening in mortals, you’re starting to see less and less of them as the days pass, and you’re almost sad to see them go. 

Djinn are your favourites. They come in, order, keep to themselves, and then leave. It’s a nice change from the usual light conversation you’re forced to keep with patrons. Plus their orders are always easiest, as they only drink virgin. It’s a bit of a blow to the bar aspect of the establishment, but they come for the atmosphere, grateful to have a place they can exist with like minded folk—even if they don’t interact. There’s a comfort in familiarity, you guess.

Occasionally some other creatures of the night mix into the masses; fae, chimera, leprechauns, goblins, et cetera. All dressed in their nicest clothes to accommodate your work's dress code, all here for peace from their day jobs, to drown their sorrows, or somewhere in between. 

Some come for an hour, others come for the night, but it’s mostly just your regulars who tend to remain, as do their drink orders. It’s a relatively easy job, and you don’t mind the company. 

Most of the time.

You’ve just finished serving the lesser demon from earlier when your coworker bugs you for the hundredth time tonight. 

“I don’t get why you're so hellbent on this, Y/N. If you’re closing, he’s coming. Because he always comes when you're closing. It’s simple math.”

“No he doesn't,” you dismiss Taehyung, a cocky but rather beautiful incubi, annoyedly. Taehyung is the type that knows he’s pretty and uses it to his every advantage, including being able to say whatever he wants and get away with it. And it would piss you off except it works on you too.

Fucking incubi demons…

You were one of only two mortal bartenders, the other being Lia, a cute blond who only works here for the tips. The boss likes to keep a couple humans on staff in case any wanderers stupid enough to come inside a den of nocturnal, evil creatures didn’t catch the vibe and immediately fuck off. 

You’d be surprised at how shitty some people's self preservation instincts are.

You asked your boss once—a very large, very well built, very well connected vampire—why he bothered having a layer of protection for them. His only response was: “Business is business.”

Plus he knows he can’t have a trail of bodies that lead directly to his club's front steps, so he keeps a couple of mortals around just in case. This way, with you two here, there was always someone who knew all the drinks the humans could have, and someone to keep all the greedy eyes around the venue in check, as you have banning and kicking out privileges. 

Because where you saw Kin, your regulars saw food, a hunt, or a job. They saw something to be taken advantage of or killed. They saw poor, weak, pathetic little mortals that should’ve been eradicated centuries ago had their ancestors been smarter. 

They are the superior beings in their eyes, your race is just a bug to be squashed under their proverbial boot. 

It makes you worry what they think of you. Is the only thing that stops them from devouring you whole the fact that you make their drinks just the way they like it, that you have a use in serving them? Or do they respect you enough now that you understand how to act around them and know what they’re like? What they are. 

You worry, but you’ll never know the truth because you aren’t stupid enough to ask and show weakness. They can smell that shit from a mile away, and all it does is paint a 30 foot wide target on your back. 

“Yes he does. I bet you tonight's tips he’ll be here in the next two hours,” Taehyung presses. 

And ooohh, a night’s worth of tips, bragging rights, and winning a bet against Tae all sound way too good damn to pass up. 

“You’re delusional,” you say, holding out a hand. Tae grabs and shakes, as you agree to his terms. “And you’re on, don’t come crying when you lose.” 

There’s no way he’ll show up. It’s Friday night, the night of sin, he’s going to be up to his eyeballs with work…stuff.

“Easiest money I’ve ever made,” Taehyung grins, and with the confidence in which he does, you begin to second guess your own.

It’s not that you did or didn’t want him to show up, it’s just that your relationship with him is…complicated at best. You never really knew how to navigate a conversation with him outside of surface level banter and jokes, but it’s always been like that with you two.

Having known him for years—from a small mistake on your behalf, and a favour on his—you’re one of the only people he seems to be able to put up with for company. Certainly the only one he’s half-way decent with. But what’s more surprising to you is that despite his name, reputation, and the fact he’s always joked he’d have killed anyone else by this point, is that he’s never once tried to cause you harm. 

Actually, he’s almost…protective of you. In his own weird way.

And obnoxiously flirty. 

But you could never. Not with who and what you are, and who and what he is. 

Regardless of how you fight the heat down in your cheeks every time you see him, and how your heart flutters against your will in multiple places in your body at even the thought of being near him.

Regardless of the fact that you shut him down every time he suggests anything more than an over the bar conversation, and the way your panties seem to always dampen in his presenc–fuck. 

It’s happening again. Stop thinking about it, stop, stop st–wait. You turn, seeing the violet ichor in Tae’s eyes and you know the bitch is using his power on you. You flip the asshole off and he chuckles.

He’s been trying to get you to change your mind ever since the first time he saw you deny yourself. 

“You know I can tell when you’re hot and bothered right? Incubus, remember? It’s literally part of who I am.” 

To which you think again, fucking incubi…

Your most infamous regular is, to quote your favourite tv show, ‘the bane of your existence and the object of all your desires,�� and you will never, ever entertain his annoying, disgustingly hot ass more than you already do. Not after everything you went through the first—and last—time with a creature of the night. 

You learned your lesson.

So instead, you try to think of him more like an old friend. The kind that’s actually really old already, but looks amazing for his age. The kind that makes shivers run up your spine when he talks to you in the deepest, most gravel turning voice you’ve ever heard, that you also ignore out of pure self preservation. He’s the kind that you shove out of your thoughts at night when your alone and in desperate need of relie—Fucking Taehyung! 

You whip your head around to search for the violet eyed incubus, only to see him across the bar helping some stocky vampire. And you’re about a hair's breadth away from ripping him a new one in front of said vampire when the idle hum of chatter in the bar ceases and the band’s calming music falters into missed notes and a cymbal crash that's too hard; awkward, painful silence remaining.

From behind you, you can hear the front door close, followed by light footsteps that grow louder and louder. Only once the seat directly behind you creaks with the sound of being occupied, does the chatter and music resume.

Which can only mean one fucking thing. 

You just lost all your tips for the night. 

Tae’s shit eating grin as he looks over your shoulder confirms it. 

Fuck. 

“Excuse me,” the bottom of the ocean floor speaks and you make a conscious effort not to react.

“Ardbeg Single Malt, neat?” You throw over your shoulder, not bothering to look just yet. 

You know precisely where he sits. And he knows you know. 

“Sounds perfect,” he responds, and you focus on ‘looking for the bottle.’ 

You know exactly where it is.

No one else will touch it. 

Taehyung busies himself with bringing an order of Bloody Mary’s down to a booth on the floor, knowing he’ll be burned alive if he so much as looks at a whiskey glass. 

No one serves him but you. 

But more importantly, nobody disrespects you in front of him. A lesson your ex–see: dead–coworker, Sal, learned the hard way. His burn mark is still seared onto the floor behind you. 

You’d almost felt bad that day, but he was a lust demon who touched you without your permission, hit on you every five minutes, and when you said no, treated you like shit.

You’d been close to dousing him with vodka and lighting him up yourself, but the man tapping his fingers on the bar behind you beat you to it 15 seconds after sitting down one night last year. 

After shoving Sal off you for the fourth time that night, he was pissed. Whispering obscenities to himself loud enough so you would hear,

“Fucking stupid mortal bitch, maybe next time I’ll just drag you into an alley do whatever the fuck I want. Nobody here’s going to stop me. And maybe then you’ll learn to shut up with this dick in your cunt and my fingers down your throat, huh? Leave you to rot with the garbage where you belong after you’re all used up.”

He didn’t take another breath. 

A single burst of blistering flame had Sal reduced to ashes in seconds. You’d felt the heat from it, but your skin remained burn free, safe from its dangerous blaze. The lust demon from then on only existed as a smudge on the ground to be walked over.  

“Thanks,” You’d said.

“It’s where he belongs,”  he responded. 

Grateful for his kindness, you entertained him more than usual that night. Engaged in an actual conversation, about your birthday of all things. You had no idea why he wanted to know, but you considered the information his reward for helping you, and he seemed pleased with it.

But he was more than pleased. 

After years, you’d revealed something to him. Something personal.

He took it as a sign that he might be able to get you to change your mind one day, if he did everything just right. Having played the long game before, this was no different. The only thing different this time, was you. 

Maybe it was the way you walked with such confidence, or the way you never cowered in fear around him. Not the day you met nor any day after. Or maybe you were sent by his father just to mess with his head. He didn’t care. All he knew was what he wanted, and that he was more than willing to wait as long as was needed to get it. 

A nursery rhyme from your childhood plays in your head every time you see him. It never wavers, just like the eyes you can feel on the back of your neck, watching your experienced hands make his drink. 

Quietly, you recite it to yourself while you grab the bottle;

‘One for sorrow,

Two for joy,

Three for a girl,

Four for a boy,

Five for silver,

Six for gold,

Seven for a secret never to be told.’

You pour, steady hand making it last as long as you possibly can to gain a few more seconds to compose yourself. 

‘Eight for a wish,

Nine for a kiss,

Ten a surprise you should be careful not to miss,

Eleven for health,

Twelve for wealth,’

You put the bottle down and cork it before returning it to its place on the shelf. Taking a deep breath, you turn to finally face him, and change the wording of the last line to fit your situation better.

“One Ardbeg Single Malt neat, for the Devil himself.” 

He snickers, “I always liked that nursery rhyme. It’s cute. Like you, Angel.” 

You roll your eyes. To anyone else that would sound like a compliment. But coming from the Devil it’s more of an insult. One you know is meant in a playful way after all these years, crass in his humour, just like you. And you know he can take a little heat back.

“Wow, that’s a classic,” you grab a glass to polish, keeping your hands busy so they don’t do something stupid while you’re distracted. “Got one of those for you too, ‘Did it hurt when you fell from heaven?’” 

He chokes on a laugh before straightening on the barstool and putting on a face. “I don’t think that joke’s appropriate.” 

“Oh come on Yoongi, you come at me with ‘It’s cute, like you, Angel’ and I can’t poke back?” You ask, knowing full well his uncomfortable look is all an act. “I thought you didn’t have any feelings besides rage, lust and currently; insufferable flirting.”

You know the entire club listens in to your conversation. 

No one calls the Devil by his first name. 

Nobody speaks to the Devil unless spoken to. 

And no one makes jokes at the Devil’s expense and lives. 

No one except you. 

What a funny little exception you are.

Yoongi drops the act, a sly smirk that sends bubbles to your brain, replacing it. “So you admit my flirting isn’t always bad. Must be doing something right then.”

You force yourself not to slam a palm into your forehead. Of course that’s what he got out of your sentence.

You aren’t going to make his ego any bigger than it already is. 

“It isn’t working,”—fuck, yes it is—“if that’s what you’re asking. Can’t say I’m surprised though, I hear you’ve been out of the game for a couple millenia,” he quirks a brow at that. 

Ooo, that means you’re nearing thin ice, haven't been there in a while…Let’s see if you can slide around a bit more without falling in. 

“I mean, I’m sure you’ll get there eventually. If you stay consistent at your current rate of progress you could hit me up in,” you suck air in through your teeth and look at the ceiling, before checking a watch you don’t wear, pretending to think, “a thousand years?” You tease, a lilt in your tone. Because if Yoongi was going to make your shift this fucking difficult just by breathing near you, then you sure as Hell can do the same for his night. 

He chuckles like the coals of a fire and you cross your legs behind the bar. Motherfucker… 

“Someones got a mouth on them tonight,” he says, looking directly into your eyes as he takes his first sip, savouring the taste before swallowing. His tongue dips to his bottom lip for any remnants and you gulp, vision dropping for a millisecond—oh for the love of—and you finally notice what he’s wearing.

Much to your dismay and dwindling willpower, he looks fucking good. With only a white scarf to accent, the all black Valentino suit fits in perfectly with the bar’s dress code, as well as the long slicked back hair he’s only recently started to grow out. Just seeing it like this makes you want to run your hands through and mess it up. 

You’ve always had a thing for men with long hair, ever since you were young.

Jack Sparrow, Madmartigan, even The Winter Soldier. And come to think of it, none of them were exactly the good guys in their respective universes either…

Nope! No. You can’t. You can’t.

You can’t for so many reasons, so many good and bad and everything in between reasons. You’re nothing more than a flimsy human while he’s the Great Immortal Evil. The person people whisper the name of for fear of incurring his wrath. 

The King of Hell. 

He’s the person that walks into a room and everyone balks under his gaze, terrified of what he may do. He’s killed millions with no mercy. Doesn’t so much as think twice to horrifically burn someone where they stand to ash in hellfire for breathing the wrong way near him. He lavishes in the screams of sinners, punished in their own blood and bones, beaten into a shell of who they were in the nine circles of Hell. Left gaping, broken and sobbing in agony for their suffering to end. 

Yoongi is walking nightmares and visceral terror. He is merciless violence and brutality abandon. 

Yoongi is living, breathing, unyielding death wrapped up in deceivingly beautiful packaging. 

He is the epitome of someone you should not like, should not go near, and definitely should not want in the way the thrumming in your bones is telling you, you want him.

You have to stay away from him. 

But that doesn’t mean you can’t flirt back a little.

As salaciously as you can muster, you whisper low, “But it’s nothing you can’t handle,” and you swear you see a hint of surprise in Yoongi’s eyes, followed by something so much deeper that you have to look away under the guise of checking for any newcomers. 

It’s a dangerous game you’re playing. One you need to move the pieces of very, very carefully. 

There’s a handful of people waiting to be served, but none disturb Yoongi’s service. So you’re forced and relieved to cut the interaction short. For both the waiting patrons, and your sanity. 

“Enjoy the whiskey, Yoongi.”

Yoongi doesn’t bother you for the rest of the night, instead he watches you help the other patrons and make drinks. No one dares sit within three seats of him on either side, so the booths and tables fill more than the bar does, forcing you to do more tray work than you like. And you think you can feel those eyes on the back of your neck travel elsewhere.

Soon after he takes his last sip, Yoongi leaves far too much cash on the table to cover a single drink, and you know Tae won’t include it in tonight's bet. He rather enjoys being alive. 

The first time he did this you tried to give it back, insisting it was too much. But one threat to Tae’s life had you accepting the outrageous amount he left you every time. Despite how much he gets on your nerves, you rather enjoy Taehyung's company on your shifts. And you didn’t want to risk having a new coworker like Sal again. 

Thank you, Yoongi. You silently think to yourself every time he does. His tips are one of the only reasons you’re able to take care of yourself so well. 

You live in an apartment you should not be able to afford on a bartender's wage. Eat well, buy all the brand name products for the skin care routine you could only dream of having as a teenager, and you’re able to get yourself a little treat every once in a while. 

All thanks to the one man the world claimed was the purest entity of evil there was. 

And maybe he is. 

But not to you. 

The rest of your night, and closing go smoothly. The journey home passes by in a flash and soon you’re flopping into your bed, asleep before you hit the pillow. 

You dream of Yoongi and Hellfire and things only your subconscious will let you. The thoughts that you force away every time you see him. 

The burn of his hands on your skin and his lips on your neck. The warmth that spreads over your entire body at the mere mention of your name from his lips. His tongue in places you wouldn’t dare allow him to even think about in the waking world. 

And you wake from an orgasm he wasn't in the waking world to give you. 

It’s the last Saturday in October, which means it’s also your birthday.

You found it rather funny that the one person the Devil could stand to conversate with was born on his night. Maybe that’s coincidence or maybe that’s fate, either way you didn’t care, because you had it booked off work and you were going to a bar and dancing with your friends, dressed up in the sluttiest costumes you could find. 

Your recent visit with your birthday's namesake inspired your costume this year. Wearing the shortest, blood red leather dress you could find, the slits up the sides ran almost to your hips, and a corseted waist that made you feel sexy and fierce. You’d paired it with some velvet horns, a tail, pitchfork, crimson lace stockings and your most recent edition; red bottomed strappy stilettos. 

They’d been your birthday present to yourself, courtesy of Yoongi’s most recent tip. And needless to say, you felt hot as shit. No one could tear you down tonight.

All your friends met at your house before ridesharing down to a club. It’s loud, hazy, and filled with other Devil’s Night party goers as you arrive, smoke lingering in the air and you can feel the wave of dancing coming from further inside. 

Someone buys you your first round within a minute of being let in, lemon drop filling your taste buds as you knock back the shot. Another is ordered immediately after the first, it runs smoother and tastes like chocolate as you make your way to the dance floor. 

Aside from you, your friends are dressed up as a wild mix of characters. Rey is dressed as Daphne from Scooby Doo, Yaejin is Nezuko from Demon Slayer, Bryce is a gender bent Legolas from Lord of the Rings, Declan is Donatello from the Ninja Turtles, Cam is a ghost, and Trin is a character from a book you’ve never read. Something about dragons and magic and vermin—or was it venin? Whatever. But they were in all black and had used silver hair spray on the tips of their hair.

You let the alcohol make its way through your veins as you dance, loosening up. The DJ mixes songs together in a way that never has the crowd thinning out and you laugh as you move with your friends, swaying and rocking and grinding. 

You needed this.

A night out just to let go, have fun, forget everything and hopefully get lucky by the end of it. It’s been a while since you’ve taken anyone to bed, and birthday sex sounds amazing the more the lemon drop, and what you finally learned was a tootsie roll shot, settle into your system. 

You aren’t drunk by any means, but you are buzzed and having a blast. An orgasm sounds like the only thing that could possibly make this night any better. So you make your way around the dance floor, keeping one eye open for any potentials, but mostly just dancing with Rey and Cam. The others either grabbing another drink back at the bar or resting their legs in a booth. 

“Babe,” Rey says, hands around your neck with Cam behind you, hands on your hips. You all sway to the beat of the admittedly sensual song playing. 

“Yeah?” You ask, opening your eyes to meet hers and she leans in closer. 

You can hear the smile on her lips, “Major tall, dark and handsome at 9 o'clock has been eyeing you for at least a half hour. I say you ditch me and Cam and go enthrall the man with your company for a little while. We’ll be fine on our own.” 

Heating at her words you’re excited to see who’s gone and done half your job for you tonight when your eyes stop dead on target. 

In a private booth in the VIP section, blending in far too well with the mortals around him, he wears a button down black satin top and dress pants. Thick silver links adorn his neck, complimenting the hoops in his lobes as well as the mouth watering rings on his fingers and you’re quite sure the bottoms of his black leather shoes match the red of your own. 

Yoongi. 

God he looks good. Unfairly so. And he carries that knowledge with him in his movement. His confidence never wavering like a mortal’s would.

Aside from two twisting black horns you’ve never seen before protruding from his deliciously tousled hair—hair you still want to pull on until he’s making sounds no ones ever heard come out of his mouth before, now moreso than ever—Yoongi is a darker version of yourself. 

Except for him, it isn’t a costume, it’s real, real, real. 

And he looks like sin incarnate. 

Fitting. 

Fuck, you’re so screwed. What were all those reasons it could never work again? The ones that explain why you shouldn’t take the Devil home and let him fuck you into next Sunday?

Suddenly, you can’t remember any of them. Not when Yoongi’s eyes never leave your red-clad form as he sips on what you know to be subpar whiskey. Your core melts into lava at the way he looks up and down, taking all of you in like you’re the one thing on this planet he needs to survive, and he’ll stop at nothing and spare absolutely no one until he gets you. 

Rey gives Cam a look and their hands drop, allowing you to almost float over to where Yoongi lounges, maneuvering between bodies undulating to music that’s being deafened by the heartbeat in your ears.

When you reach him, you leave a somewhat respectable distance between you two, a step down from the dias the booth sits on. 

Seeing him so much clearer now, you almost whine. How does he look even better up close? You want to sit on his lap, his face, have him bend you over the table then flip you over and feast like a man starved. 

Fuck! No, you can’t. And you also can’t blame Tae for those thoughts either, he isn’t here.

They were all you. 

Maybe his plan was working after all…

“What are you doing here?” You manage, grateful that you hadn’t had more to drink, but even more grateful for the ones you did. You needed a little liquid courage right now, even if it turned your thoughts into gutter sewage.

What he doesn’t know can’t hurt you…right? You just have to keep a lid on it. The one that’s loosening the more you look at him.

“It’s your birthday,” he says, producing a small black box wrapped with a bow. “I have a gift.”

He…he got you a present? He’s never done that before. But then again, before last year, he never knew when it was.

“You remem—I—you didn’t have to get me anything,” you stutter ungracefully, mouth trying to keep up with your racing thoughts. “I already got these shoes with the tip you left me last time,” you say, extending your leg to show off your newest purchase. The action reveals more leg than you meant it too and he catches the garter you have pulled around your thigh.

A fire ignites in his eyes at the sight, and you can feel their sparks everywhere he looks. Starting at your toes and moving all the way up back to your pretty irises. 

“I’m flattered by the way,” he says. “In your costume choice.”

Huh? You look down and heat rises to your cheeks in a way it never has before. Oh fuck, oh fuck. Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit!

Here you stand, before the actual Devil—horns out in all their glory—dressed as him on his namesake night. 

Of course this would happen to you, of course it would. This is what you get for fucking around. You found out. And you don’t know whether to be mortified, beg for forgiveness, or laugh yourself hoarse. 

Going with none of the above, you choose to play it off instead, the way you always do when he manages to fluster you. “Consider me inspired by how recently I last saw you,” you say, taking the single step up the dias and twirling for him. 

You show every angle of your costume you can, letting the booze in your system do its job of making you more confident than you currently are.

“What do you think?”  

Yoongi stands, taking the two strides needed to be face to face with you, his voice is quiet and even, so only you can hear.

“May I touch?”

You don’t hesitate. 

“Yes.” 

Yoongi reaches behind you and pulls the fake tail from the back of your dress, then the pitchfork from your grasp and throws them into the booth, not caring where they land.

“Mmm,” he hums, placing his hands on your hips and spinning you once more. Lightning strikes every single nerve ending where his fingertips meet your body. 

This time when he speaks, his voice is touched with the bit of demon that’s inside of him, dragging its claws along the floor of the 9th circle of Hell as he growls, “You’re perfect.” 

Your heart does backflips and cartwheels and nose dives all at once. You’ve never heard him sound like that before, and if your panties weren’t wet before, they definitely are now. 

Tugging gently, he guides you to the booth, sitting first before dragging you over his lap, knees meeting his hips. One of his hands rests on your thigh while the other reaches for something you can’t be bothered to figure out because oh my god, oh my god, you’re straddling him. Your straddling the Devil, dressed as the devil and probably already looking semi-fucked out while you do. This is probably a bad idea—no. This is definitely a bad idea. But you also have absolutely zero plans to stop literally anything that’s happening. 

The gift box makes a reappearance, and he hands it over to you. 

“Thank you,” you say automatically, trying and failing to ignore the fact that both of his hands now rest on your thighs. Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck…..

Undoing the little black bow, you open it, revealing a delicately simple necklace. Its light weight chain holding a small pink stone pendant. 

Beautiful. 

“Pink Tourmaline,” Yoongi says. 

“My birthstone,” you reply.

“Your birthstone.”

You stare at the little crystal, cut and polished to perfection. Not a single flaw.

“Yoongi I—I don’t know what to say. It’s incredible…Thank you,” you take it out of the box, profoundly grateful you decided not to wear a necklace tonight. “Could you help me put it on?”

“Of course, Angel,” he agrees. But this time when he says your nickname, it’s different. Like an unholy vow made only to you. 

Makes you wonder what he promised.

Regretfully removing yourself from his lap, you turn around, only to be dragged back down by strong fingers. 

Your ass is now flush against his dick, and it’s taking everything in you not to tease. Whether you’d be teasing him or yourself, you don't know, nor do you care. All you know is that friction can be a good thing if you want it to be. And you're starting to want it to be.

Lifting your hair for him, Yoongi fastens the necklace around your column, and to your complete and utter doom, places a gentle kiss at your nape. The simple contact makes you quietly moan, and you feel a twitch under you. 

Ohhh, this is bad, this is so bad. But you can’t bring yourself to stop him. Not when his hands roam up and down your back, your sides, your hips. Exploring, feeling, learning. You dissolve into the touch, welcoming every whisper of pleasure they bring. 

What is he doing to you?

“Angel,” Yoongi purrs in your ear. 

“Mmm?”

“Would you like to dance?”

Fuck would you ever, but wait— 

“Are you asking me if I’d like to Dance with the Devil?” you muse. 

Yoongi chuckles lowly, understanding the meaning behind your ask.

“Is that something you’d be interested in?” 

“Yes.”

You feel more than hear the dark rumble coming from his chest before he gently taps on your thigh. And you get up quickly. 

“That’s a good girl,” he says, and fuck could you ever get used to him saying that to you.

Fingers laced in his, he lets you guide him to the dance floor.

Both of you ignore what the DJ plays, instead moving to the rhythm you feel like. Slow, sensual, a hand on his neck while you grind into him. Fast and heated, bodies touching any and every place you can get contact. You’re putting on quite the show for anyone brave enough to watch. And you know at least a handful of the eyes you feel on you are your friends’. 

They don’t know about Yoongi.

They don’t know about the nature of the clientele at your job either, like every other human. They don’t know you're dancing with the most dangerous and volatile man in the room. And it’s better that way, because if they did, your ass would’ve been hauled out of the club and in a rideshare the second anyone saw him. 

You’ve never been more thankful for the figurative wall between worlds. And the fact that you stand on both sides. 

You brush up against his hardening dick and fuck, that’s it. 

You’ve decided. 

To hell with your reasons. To hell with the constant flirting and overuse of will power. 

To hell with letting your anxieties and your moral compass and your conscience get in the way of the one thing you’ve been denying yourself for years. 

You spin in Yoongi’s hold, looking straight into the darkened eyes of the most forbidden man you could ever want for yourself, only to see pure desire staring right back. It’s all you need before you’re crashing your lips to his, taking anything and everything you can get before one of you comes to your senses and pulls back. 

But his grip on you tightens like a vice, pulling you closer, bodies flush amidst the dancing crowd. He’s magnetic in his want, lifting a hand to the back of your neck and tracing the seam of your lips with his tongue.

You let him in without hesitation and he nearly swallows you whole with how he invades your mouth, claiming it for himself. It makes you moan and he lets up, if only to let you breathe for a moment, and you take this reprieve to whisper in his ear, finally giving in to what you crave more than anything.

“Let’s go to yours.”

“We should go to yours, Angel, mine’s a bit harder to get to.”

Because his is on another plane of existence. Not exactly a taxi ride away. At least not one you can get at the curb of the club. 

“Riiight.” A small dose of water washes over the fire in your core, and it’s like he can sense it because immediately, he’s pulling you back in. Nothing but teeth and lips and tongue, animalistic in the passion you’re displaying for everyone to see, the flames increasing tenfold.

Fuck, you don’t want to wait. 

And apparently neither does Yoongi. 

“Do you trust me?” He asks.

“Yes, but what does tha–”

“Close your eyes for me, Love.”

Any and all arguments fade on your tongue at the new pet name. So much warmer than Angel, so much more affectionate. 

So you close your eyes for him, no questions asked. Because you trust him. You trust the Devil. 

You trust Yoongi. 

“That's a good girl.” 

One hand goes to the back of your neck, the other your lower back as he kisses you gently. So gently you think it means something more, but the sounds of the club are fading away, and he’s leaning you down like he’s going to dip you before your back meets something soft. 

Are you closer to a booth than you thought? Is he really going to take you here in front of all those people? 

But when you open your eyes and your bedroom at your apartment fills your vision, you stiffen immediately.

What?

“I—but we were just��and now we’re he—and you—,” you stutter, amazed and unable to get the thoughts out fast enough before another takes its place. You manage a, “How?” and he catches on. 

Not halting his actions, “Consider it a job perk,” he explains, nipping at your neck. You let out a groan as he continues his way down your column towards your chest and you relax into his touch.

“Teleportation, in simple terms, but it’s a bit more complicated than that.”

Despite his mouth on your skin, you somehow find the clearness of mind to ask, “Did anyone see?” Thinking about your friends and the potential hundreds of onlookers.

Yoongi’s hands rest at top of the zipper that goes the entire length of your dress, allowing for both easy putting on and quick removal. Fingers tug gently on the slider, eyes meeting yours for consent. You nod, and he answers your question as he drags it down your body torturously slow, savouring every moment he’s worked so hard to get. 

He’s going to earn this privilege you’ve given him, if it's the last thing he does.

“No. And your friends won’t worry either.”

You don’t care how he knows that, not when he’s pulling off hot leather and devouring your curves with coal burning pupils. The cool air of your room causes goosebumps to rise everywhere, and your arms fly to your head, covering your eyes as you’re reminded you’d forgone a bra tonight. 

There was no room for one without it squishing your tits too much and ruining the look. So with your dress gone, Yoongi has a front row seat to your nearly nude form, a blood red lace thong the only thing keeping you semi-decent. 

Years of pining and denial have led up to this moment and Yoongi almost doesn’t know where to start now that he finally has you exactly where he wants you. That feeling doesn’t last long though.

Wasting no more time, he takes a breast into his palm, squeezing and massaging while he lowers himself to the other, lapping the nipple of the one neglected. His tongue swirls over the pert bud, sucking it into his mouth fully and you arch into his touch, reveling in the warmth he spreads across your chest. Hands reaching for the sheets above your head for something to ground you.

“Shit,” you can already feel your pulse in your ears, thundering behind your sternum, and booming lower. He’s barely touched you and you’re already so gone.

He switches his hand and mouth, soothing the other breast with the sinful muscle he’s teased you with after all these years drinking whiskey. And by god if you don’t immediately think what it could do in other places. He’s had thousands of years to practice and the gush you feel in your panties lets you know exactly how you feel about the idea. 

Using his free hand, Yoongi traces down your back, rounding your ass and squeezing hard enough to make you hiss in pleasure before settling on the back of your thigh. 

You can barely stand having his hands so close to your molten heat without having any contact, and it leaves you begging, “Please…Please…”

You feel the curve of his lip quirk as teeth gently scrape the sensitive bud, gasping when he pulls off. 

“Please what, Love?”

“More,” you pant. “Please. Anything. Everything. Please just touch me.”

“Mmm,” he’s back at your neck, inhaling your scent, one hand still on your thigh while the other holds him up by your ear. “Pretty Girl has manners after all, huh?” 

“Oh fuck you.” you bristle, but it seems to be the reaction he’s looking for. A deeper, sluttier part of you awakening at the words you want to prove both wrong and right.

“There she is.”

Diving back into your neck, Yoongi trails wet, open mouthed kisses down, down, down. And even though you’ve never been so wet, so in the moment, and so unbelievably turned on before, the human part of you wins for a second, as you try to close your legs. 

They’re pulled back open in an instant, his eyes never wavering from yours as he says, “Don’t you dare get shy on me now,” a kiss to your inner thigh. And then the other as he kneels before you. 

Yoongi places each foot on either of his shoulders and you’re surprised he’s kept on your garter, stockings and red bottoms, their heels digging into his flesh. You wonder if that hurts at all, but by the way his eyes flutter and almost roll into the back of his head at the pressure they place on his frame, you think he actually likes their sting.

“You’re the most exquisite creature I have ever seen. Absolutely no part of you could ever be undesirable to me.” 

His earnest tone makes you believe him, convinces you, and you’re once again pliant in his hold, opening up for him.

“Look at me,” he says, and you do. You stare directly at the Devil between your thighs. The King knelt before your lowly mortal form. “You are the most powerful person in this room, understand?”

You nod, but that’s not good enough for him. 

“I need to hear it.”

“I understand.”

“Understand what?” He pushes.

“I’m the most powerful person in this room,” and it feels bold to say in front of him. But watching the way Yoongi’s expression fills with pride makes it also feel good. He wants you to feel like you’re the one in charge. 

“Remember that,” he says, before ripping your underwear off and throwing them on the floor, feasting his now wholly black eyes on the sight of your dripping pussy.

The more he loses himself in you, the more of his true form reveals itself.

“Fuuuckk,” he whispers more to himself than anything. “So wet…”

Your core is tormented and throbbing at the back and forth between the cold night air and Yoongi’s hot breath and you whine, “I just bought those!”

He spares you one completely unsympathetic look. 

“Don’t care. I’ll buy you more,” a deliciously ringed finger slides along your drenched folds and you’re gasping. “I’ll buy you the entire fucking store if it means I get to see you like this.”

Your voice is airy as you give in, any and all outrage gone. “Oka—ohhh!”

His mouth is on your cunt before you can breathe in the oxygen you so desperately need. He’s not holding back and your movements are not your own as you squirm. An arm rounds your pelvis holds you down, keeping you there as he devours you whole and shows you no mercy.

“Fuck, fuck, oh my god Yoongi,” you cry out, having never felt anything like this before. His tongue circles your clit as he sucks, then glides down, penetrating your opening with thrusts that make you lightheaded. 

Your hands fly to his locks, pulling and pushing him down further until you're pretty sure you’re drowning him in you. Your fingertips graze his horns and it’s just a reminder that this man is definitely not human. Definitely not someone you should be letting suck your soul out through your pussy. And that makes this whole situation that much hotter. 

If he minds where you touch, he doesn’t say anything about it, only groaning as he repeats his motions to get you near your peak, again and again and again until you're quaking against your will and your body is vibrating with every throb from your core.

Every single nerve ending you have is awake and being put to good use, he’s making sure of it. The dam that holds your release is starting to crumble and you don’t know how much longer you can last like this before you’re screaming bloody murder under his grip. 

“Yoon…Yoongi—fuck,” you stutter, staggered breaths from your trembling chest loose as you try to verbalize, “C-close. S-so close.”

He hums, and teases a finger around your entrance, circling a few times before pressing in and up to your g-spot. The simple action undoes you and you're coming with a force you can’t even begin to describe. The waves crash down, over and over and you're moaning and cursing his name at the same time, knowing it’s going to be the only one you’ll think of in this situation from now until forever.

He guides you through the last shockwaves as you come down, and when you’re too sensitive for him to continue, you drag him up to your lips, tasting his efforts on your tongue. 

“Need you now,” you rush out between kisses.

“Not yet, Love,” he says, pulling back just enough to reach a hand between the two of you.

He slips two fingers inside and swallows the resulting moan from your lips as he goes so deep enough you can feel his rings proding your opening.

“Gotta stretch you out for me first.” 

Your hands are back in his hair, nails scratching the nape of his neck as he begins to scissor you open expertly. He growls into your neck at the sensation and that confirms your suspicions of him liking a little pain with his pleasure. So you scratch further down his neck, onto his shoulders and back and you dig a heel into his thigh.

“Fuck, Angel,” fingers stuttering for a second. “Don’t do that unless you want me to come right now.”

“And if I do?” 

“Not yet.”

“Why not?”

“Because the first time I come, it’ll be with you around my cock, soaking the sheets with your own.”

Head rolling back, his words going straight to your clit. “Fuck, okay.”

“Now give me another one, Pretty Girl,” he says, picking up speed with his digits. “I know you can, pretty little slut takes my fingers so well.”

Fuck, fuck, fuck…

You can feel it coming this time, building and building. He uses his thumb to rub over your sensitive nub and it has you unraveling under him, screaming out and almost sobbing at the convulsions your body makes. He takes your mouth with his again, consuming your pleasure in every form he can get. 

And once you come down, you’ve had it. If you don’t have him inside you within the next 2 minutes you’re going to lose it. 

Ripping at his shirt, you're fumbling with the buttons. “Fuck, take this off, and those,” you say, abandoning his shirt for his belt. 

Yoongi chuckles, low and sinful, “Bossy,” but gets up, and begins removing the outfit that got you into this situation in the first place. You take off the remnants of your costume as he spares you no peace of mind, the way you did him, taking off his pants and boxers in one go, freeing his mouth watering bulge from its earthy confines. 

“Oh fuck me,” you say at his size. He’s big, girthy and you’ve never wanted someone inside you so badly before. 

Yoongi smirks as he crawls over you, but you stop him with a hand. “Wait,” you throw a leg over his hip, and flip the two of you so you’re on top. “Let me do this.”

“Whatever you want, Angel.”

Picking up his cock, it sits heavy in your hand as you give him a couple strokes. He hisses at the contact and it only spurs you on, gathering as much saliva as you can, you open your mouth to spit, rubbing it all over his shaft and head, mixing it with the precum dribbling out of the tip. 

“Fuck—”

Your 2 minutes are up. Lifting your ass, you guide yourself onto him. 

“Oh my fuck, oh fuck,” you say as you slide down slowly, the stretch still very much there as he bottoms out. “Big—ohh, shit—so big.”

Yoongi’s not faring much better, eyebrows pressed together, but eyes devouring the spot where your bodies meet. His breathing is so laboured you’d think he just ran a marathon.

“So tight, Love...Fuck, look at you.”

The delicious sting subsides and you start to move, slow but purposeful thrusts that have him kissing your cervix every time. Fuck he’s so deep, deeper than anyone else has ever been. And once you get a rhythm going there’s no stopping you. You become a force of nature as you bounce on his cock without abandon, taking this for yourself. You don’t know why, but you feel like you have a point to prove and by god you’re going to make it. 

Because if the Devil chose you, you’re going to make damn sure he doesn’t regret it. 

“Fuck, fuck you’re doing so good,” he rasps, throwing his head back into the pillows, eyes shut in pure bliss, murmuring. “Feels so good.” 

His praise pushes you farther, riding harder, grinding your clit against his pelvis, owning both your pleasures. 

You’re the most powerful person here. 

You are the one in control despite being on top of arguably the most powerful man on the planet. It makes you feel safe and strong and invincible. 

And you want to continue, you really do, but your legs are starting to give, so you let him know. 

“Ass up for me then,” he says, and you listen, climbing off of him and wincing at the feeling of him slipping out. He gets behind you, lining himself up again and this time it’s much easier as he sinks in, both of you groaning at the contact. 

Yoongi hands go to your hips, gripping and squeezing and molding the globes of your ass as you anchor your cheek to the bedsheets. 

“That’s it, Pretty Girl, all the way down for me.”

His first thrust has you seeing stars. You're nothing and everything as he continues, but you need more. You need to not be able to speak. To walk. You need to have every thought fucked out of your head. You need him so deep you’ll feel it for a week afterwards.

“Faster,” you beg. “Harder, please.”

“There are those manners I was looking for,” he says and picks up his pace. 

You’re incoherent, saying things you’ve never dared to utter out loud before, making admissions you swore to take to your grave and Yoongi is eating up every single last one of them. 

Because this is about you. This is about proving years of your denial’s fruitless. This is about him and how you make him lose every ounce of self control he has when he’s around you and how badly he’s wanted you since the day you met. This is about ruining every other man for you, making sure you know what true pleasure feels like, know how you deserve to be treated, and hearing his name on your lips when you come. When your cunt clenches so hard he has to fight tooth and nail to milk every ounce of bliss from it.

This is about him wanting to hear him make you feel good. Needing to hear him make you feel good.

This is about you. 

And he can feel you starting to clamp up again, can feel you getting close. So he wraps an arm around your waist, fingers going straight for your pussy.

You shriek, body consumed by the even strokes he delivers as well as the smooth circles around your most sensitive spot, and he revels in it. This is what he’s been dreaming of, what he’s desired over everything else. 

You, underneath him in so much pleasure you’re almost non-verbal. 

Perfect in every single way. 

“Taking me so well, dirty girl. Love the feeling of my cock splitting you open?” he hears a muffled cry and you nod your head. “Knew you would, knew you could take me.”

He delivers a smack to your ass and he feels you clench, so he soothes the battered area before handing out another, soothing that one out too. 

“You’re so good for me, pretty little whore so greedy, sucking me in. Why’d you make me think you didn’t want me all these years, hmm? Was I not good enough for you?”

You bury your face in your sheets. Well that certainly won’t do. So he slows his fingers as he reiterates. “Was I not good enough for you then, Angel? Am I good enough for you now?”

“Yes,” you mutter, barely loud enough to hear.

“What was that?” he slows again to a near burningly slow pace, soaking in the feel of you around his fingers and dick. It feels like a place he once called home.

“Yes!” you bellow. “So good…so good to me…more than enough.”

The praise fuels him, and he picks up the speed of everything, cock pounding you into the mattress, fingers rubbing an achingly mind-blowing pattern on your clit. It pushes you over the edge for the third time tonight, your fluttering cunt around his dick almost has him losing it. Almost has him coming undone with you, but he manages to hold it back. 

Not yet. 

You're silent in your screams this time, overwhelmed with the feelings, fingers nearly ripping your sheets in half at how hard it hit you. How hard you contract around him.

Oh he’s never going to get sick of this feeling. 

Ever.  

And instead of guiding you down this time, he removes himself quickly, flips you over on your back and inserts himself once more. 

He needs that feeling again. Needs you again. You claimed him for yourself whether you knew it or not all those years ago, he was simply following orders. He was yours the second your eyes met for the first time and he’s never looked back since. No one was ever good enough from that moment on, not a single creature on any plane of existence. 

There was only you. 

Yoongi’s never felt anything so pure and so sinful and so right as you pulsing around him does. He exists only for this feeling. Only for you. It took a couple thousand years, but at least now he knows. 

And so he doesn’t slow down, pushing you through your oversensitivity.

It’s time for him to finally claim you back.

“I can’t,” you beg, “it hurts.”

“Not for long, Pretty Girl” he says in his lowest registar. “You can take it, I know you can. Give me one more, I know you have it in you.”

Yoongi’s noticed his words have almost the same effect on you as his motions, so he uses them to their full potential. And as he can sense your fourth orgasm about to land, you surprise him by whispering directly into his ear and raking your nails down his back as hard as you can.

“Only for you, Yoongi.”

His thrusts stutter.

“Fuck!”

He’s coming. 

He’s coming hard. With you, with your name on his lips. It's violent and visceral and vicious and vibrant. It’s beautiful. You’re combined divine deliverance. 

It’s the first time he’s said your name.

And it’s something he’s going to keep locked away in his memory for millenia to come as he covers your inner walls in the most sickeningly sweet shade of white. 

You’re relentless, milking him over and over and over for all he’s worth, not letting up until your body is ready too, ruthless in your quest for ultimate euphoria and he takes it.

Whatever you want. Whatever you need. 

It’s yours. 

He’ll make it so.

At whatever cost to him, you'll get it. There isn't a doubt in his mind as you finally come down, body lighter, eyes glazed over, devastating smile on your lips.

He’s the first to move, going to the bathroom and grabbing a warm, wet cloth to clean you up. You’re blissfully spent, unable to get up even if you wanted to, limbs like jelly, still in a brain fogged haze. 

You got exactly what you wanted.

He cleans his release from your form, naked save for the pink stone he gave you around your neck. Then tosses the cloth in your hamper and lies back down, covering you both with sheets. You cuddle up to him, tossing a leg around his torso, and lying your head on his chest. Contented. 

And he’s silent until he can’t stand it any longer. He has to know.

“What changed?” 

“Hmm?”

“What about tonight made you change your mind?”

You take a deep breath through your nose. “I…stopped fighting it. The feeling like we would never work, the feeling that I would never be good enough, that we were too different,” he listens intently as your fingers trace patterns on his chest, explaining. “And I was sick of denying myself. It’s my birthday. Shouldn't I get whatever I want on my birthday?” 

That seductive smirk makes an appearance.

“Yes.”

“Plus you looked to damn fine in that outfit. A girl only has so much willpower, you know? It’s easier at work when there’s a bar and my job between us, but there was none of that tonight. Just the shots in my system and my unwavering desire to ride your face.”

Yoongi laughs, and you don’t think you’ve ever seen something as beautiful as his smile before. 

“Next time,” he says. A promise.

You fall back into a comfortable silence that has you thinking. 

“What about you?” you ask.

“What about me?”

“Why am I the only one you like? The only one you put up with.”

He ponders for a moment, thinking about how to phrase what he wants to say. 

“I think about the time we met often. There was something about you that was different that day, and I’ve never been able to pinpoint exactly what, but when I saw you I knew I would never think of you the same way I do everyone else. There was something special about your gaze in mine, your company, your soul.” 

“My soul?”

“Mhm.”

“You’ve never asked for mine before.”

“Never needed it.”

At that, you joke, “Is there something you’d sell your soul for?”

“You.” 

Before you can say all the nothing in your head at his answer, he takes a deep breath that has you rising and falling with it. Something about what he’s going to say next is going to have heavy importance to him. 

You just know it. 

“You… made me—make me…want to be better. Do better.”

You’re speechless. Not the kind you were moments before. No, you’re truly and genuinely speechless. 

You never expected anything like that. 

You knew your presence in his life carried a different weight than others, a different air. It’s why you could speak so casually, insult him, and exist near him without fearing for your life. It was something no one had seen from him in thousands of years. 

Kindness. Patience.

The man who’s job it is to run the universes torture capital, punishing those who deserve it without an ounce of mercy for eternity and killing those who looked at him the wrong way. The physical entity of the word evil, wanted to be better. 

Because of you.  

“I don't know what to say.”

“You don't need to say anything,” he kisses the top of your head, tender. “Having you with me is more than enough.”

You can do that. 

“Okay,” you say, craning your neck to kiss him. It’s long, languid, and full of emotions you don't want to acknowledge right now, there’s too many of them to sort through in your post four orgasms brain to be able to process properly. 

Tomorrow you can start. Right now you just want to bask in the afterglow of the most amazing birthday you've ever had.

“So this wasn’t a one time thing?” Yoongi clarifies.

“It definitely wasn't a one time thing,” not a chance in Hell. 

He was yours now. 

The Devil was yours.

King of the Underworld, god among men, catastrophe breathing evil was yours. And it brings the biggest smile to your face.  

“Oh thank fuck.”

“Not thank God?” you tease.

Yoongi groans. “Do not bring my father into this.”

A/N 3: As always, thanks for reading, loves. Xoxo, - Yoon <3

[troublewithvampires-a]

//literally no one asked but i wanted to do this <3

anyway i've been thinking for a bit of analyzing the way salvatore is described in bonesaw vic's and how different characters describe him. i don't have a thesis for this.

going under the cut because this got long <3

so the first time salvatore is described in bonesaw vic's is in the first installment, as an off-handed mention while vic is telling billy about himself. i take basically everything here with a grain of salt lmao, because victor describes salvatore's capture as taking place 30 years before when it had to have been ten years before at most.

BUT i do think salvatore's description here, even if it's very limited, is interesting! and i think it ties into how victor views and portrays sal as traitorous and conniving. because sal had the passing thought "huh victor kinda sucks actually" and that's an unforgivable sin.

so this is the only physical description given of sal in this scene:

“Right before my own eyes, this ratty-looking little fuck bounces off the floor and smashes through the window."

now aside from the fact that this is later confirmed to just be... incorrect.... i'm like. huh. interesting.

sal isn't relevant for the rest of this update, though, so we're just gonna move on to the next chapter, which is his first physical appearance.

here's how victor describes sal in this chapter, when warning billy about him:

"You remember my story about the vampire? Yeah? Well, it’s him. Long story short, he’s got a long-standing grudge against me, as you could imagine. He’ll probably tell you some things about me that just aren’t true. Lies and wild distortions of the truth, all of it. Don’t believe a word he says.” "Don’t listen to him and his bullshit. Honestly, I’d go pound a stake through his black, lying heart right now, but I still need the dirty little bastard around."

it's interesting to me that victor emphasizes again and again that sal is a dirty, lying, nasty motherfucker who just wants to take him down. and yeah the obvious explanation for that is that victor wants to hide the fact that he betrayed sal and locked him up here intentionally as a punishment and maintain his image. he's discrediting sal as much as possible so that, on the off chance anyone cared enough to do anything to help him, they might be less inclined to do so.

i originally had a whole analysis typed up here of victor and his motives, but that's not what we're here for! moving on!

next, i wanna share billy's physical descriptions of sal:

The guy sitting on the floor looked to be somewhere in his late thirties, short and thin and pale as milk. His head was shaved to the scalp, and he was clothed in some ragged-looking coveralls. He looked like a prisoner in a forced labor camp.

think it's an interesting contrast between how victor describes him vs how sal actually looks at this point in his imprisonment. because up to this point every creature and entity in the zoo has been shown to be in good condition! fuck yeah! but then sal is explicitly kept like this. and yeah kaz does say that victor hates salvatore and that's why, but yeah! he's the first one up to this point that's treated so spitefully!

also this is the description i point to in my brain for like... yeah definitely salvatore was shaved as part of the humiliation and dehumanization he experienced. because it would be reasonable to assume that he'd shaved his head before that, but yeah this part here makes me think that is Not The Case.

also another thing i wanna call out is salvatore's description of the vampires who turned him. he doesn't describe them much in this chapter, but his description does imply that vampires in this universe are naturally just... kinda emaciated and scary looking, similar to how he is here.

Sal trailed off, sullenly staring at the floor with his bony arms still rigidly crossed over his chest. He whispered, “They came out of the shadows. Dirty, horrible things dressed in rags, crawling down the walls and across the ceiling."

however it's definitely also important to remember that those vampires were kept in pretty shit conditions too lmao. they were trapped in a warehouse with no socialization or access to food aside from what victor brought them. so yeah i think it's fair to say,,, vampires in captivity don't look so good.

anyway the last description of sal that i wanna call out here is from when billy leaves. important to note, sal basically tells him, "never turn your back on me, kid. i'm starving, and you'd make easy prey."

I shuffled backwards to the exit and Sal watched me every step of the way, still smiling his savage smile. I’m not much of a gambler, but I’d bet a million dollars he was thinking about how blissful it would be to rip me open and bathe in my blood. I’d take that bet any day.

salvatore is a fucking freak and i love him so much <3

but yeah i just love the descriptions of sal as like... simultaneously kinda pathetic and sad and very much a victim of horrible circumstances, but also being incredibly dangerous and capable of ripping someone limb from limb if he really wants to. get you a man who can do both <3

anyway i don't have a thesis for this. i don't. but i also wanna include an unrelated exchange between sal and billy. they're so in love here fr-

I opened my mouth, unsure of how I was even going to respond, and I heard myself say, “I’ll kill you when the time is right, but not yet. I might need you.” Sal gave me a sharp glance and slowly asked, “What are you thinking over there, Billy-boy? Tell old Sally what’s on your mind.” I shook my head and muttered, “I don’t know yet. I’m just thinking about stuff, and that’s all for now. Hang in there, Sal. I should go.”

[its-deputy-caleb]

How would the Lord’s be with a s/o who’s short like 5’0 but they’re super sweet but can be feisty

Heyy so i’ve been sick recently so this may not be as good as always and it’s a little rushed but i hope it’s not too bad! but this was still always enjoyable to write as always! enjoy

Alcina Dimitrescu

Alcina is lecturing one of the maidens for leaving one of the windows open when she feels something tapping on her leg.

Her eyebrow raises when she finds you tugging on the fabric of her dress, your hands covered in blood.

She picks you up by the back of your shirt as you give her the brightest but cheekiest smile.

“Now what have you been up to in these castle walls that has led you to put blood all over my dress.”

Your legs dangle in the air as you explain that you’ve spend the last four hours running around in the cellars and dungeons trying to find hidden trinkets. You didn’t anticipate to run into an array of grim reaper type creatures but you never turned down a challenge.

“My my, it seems you have been busy.”

Alcina throws you over her shoulder and carries you into her private quarters before she practically dumps you in the bath that swallows you.

“You, my dear are not coming to dinner looking like that.”

She’s seated on the edge of the tub, gloves removed as she rubs her expensive rose scented shampoo in your hair. For a moment it’s quite peaceful.

You’re ever the troublemaker and considering Alcina’s dress was already dirty you couldn’t help but splash water on her.

She grasps but plays into your cheeky ways and splashes you back just as playfully until you’re both soapy and covered in water.

You both dress for dinner with Alcina insisting you wear some of your more finer clothes but you still manage to pull some buttons loose here and there.

Although you’re a wild one, bouncing down the hallway and nearly knocking over one of Alcina’s fine porcelain vases, you still take her hand in yours and walk proudly into the dinner room with your lady.

You take your place at the dining table next to Alcina, your chair significantly higher to sit comfortably but she definitely pampered you with some of the finest cushions to boost you up.

Still you can’t help but feel happy and full of joy to see your family and that only lifts your mood further.

Donna Beneviento

Donna walks into the lounge room to find you chasing angie around, trying to get to her from behind the couch.

“You’ll never take me alive!!”

You’re just as crazy and rambunctious as Angie, the two of you instantly getting along. Donna smiles when she finds that Angie finally found a friend and she’s thrilled that Angie is taken with you.

“Will you two calm down before you break something!”

The two of you stop to stare at Donna who is holding a porcelain doll in her hands to stop it from being broken as you practically jump around the room.

But somehow through all your wildness you have a soft spot for Donna. Slowing your movements and walking up to her, you wrap your arms around her neck and hide your head under her chin.

“I’m sorry Dons, will you come exploring with Angie and I in the mountains??”

With you and Angie on either side of Donna, the three of you spend your afternoon exploring the caves near the waterfall.

Jumping over pools of rocks and mini cliffs, you always go first holding your hand out to Donna each time so she can hold onto while she jumps.

You’re always there to catch her too. It’s a little hard when you’re smaller than her but you’d never let her fall.

Eventually you come to an opening in one of the caves. The view is spectacular, with the waterfall cascading down and catching the fading light beautifully.

Your hand is in Donna’s gently rubbing your thumb on the back of her hand. However in a split second Angie comes up and surprises her with a loud BOO.

Donna’s surprised shriek rings in the cave she thinks she’s going to fall from the height of the cave, Angie’s creepy laughter eventually drowns it out.

You wrap your arms around her, keeping a calm but gentle hand on the back of her head to steady her.

“It’s alright, I gotcha now”

You hug Donna tightly, death glaring Angie behind her shoulder. When you pull away, you take Donna’s face and cradle it gently in your hands.

“Common, lets go home I could do with a nice warm cup of tea to go with a good book.”

Even though Donna was less adventurous as you were, she always enjoyed running around with you and Angie but you always spoiled her afterwards with a warm night in under blankets and warm tea while you read to her.

Salvatore Moreau

Salvatore was walking around the windmill trying to find you when he’s interrupted by a rather loud noise.

“HEY SAL GUESS WHO’S FINALLY TALLER THAN U??”

He audibly grasps when he sees you sitting on the wooden sail of windmill, smiling down on him.

You jump down and land in front of him, giggling at the small scream that leaves him. Stepping forward and into his space you place a kiss on his cheek.

“It’s me!!”

You take Salvatore’s hand in your own and lead him to explore all the nooks and crannies of the windmill with him.

Eventually you run off from him and hide behind one of the wooden crates stacked in the corner.

Poor Salvatore is confused by where you’ve gone trying to find you frantically as he runs around looking for you. You had the advantage however, being small had its perks sometimes.

When he’s not looking you run up and jump him from behind, your hands wrapping around his neck as you cling to him.

His laugh bounces off the valley and he spins around with you in a piggyback. One of your favourite things is making him laugh.

You spend the next few hours playing what is basically hide and seek as you run around all through the windmills, reservoir and mines doing your best to stay clear of any lycans.

You’re a wild card in Salvatore’s otherwise quiet life, but he loves you nonetheless. But you don’t miss the way his hand clings to yours in a death grip.

However, sometimes you’re a little too wild for his comfort zone and he definitely refused to do the zip line with you. But he cheered for you from his place on the ground because he never wants you to change the way you are. To him, you’re perfect.

Karl Heisenberg

Karl is always used to strange noises and loud bangs within the factory, but after living there for as long as he had; he can always tell when somethings out of place.

A rather large crash rings throughout the halls of the factory and Karl begrudgingly puts out his cigar, hoping that one of the Soldats hadn’t broken any of his equipment.

When he walks into a smelting room he finds you on the floor with metal boxes all over you and you buried under the toppled over shelf.

Karl flicks his wrist and all the metal moves to the corner of the room to reveal you huffing your hair out of your face.

You were looking for a mould to craft a new dagger with, sorting through the assortment of boxes when it all came falling down on top of you.

Karl moves his wrist once more, moving the mould you were looking for to his hand, a smug look on his face. He knew. For the last few weeks he’d seen you eyeing out that mould when you came to sit with him while he worked.

“Looking for something?”

You stand to your feet and try to snatch it out of his hand. Karl sees you coming from a mile away and holds it above your head, he doesn’t even need to use his powers for this one, his arm will do just fine.

He’s cocky and can’t help but torment the thing over your head like a child but in an instant you have him tackled to the ground. Now that one he didn’t see coming.

“Don’t think for a moment Heisenberg that just because I’m small that i couldn’t totally kick your ass if i needed to.”

Now you’re the one to be cocky as Karl stares in awe up at you, it took a lot of strength and maybe a hint of luck to bring down someone as powerful as him.

Eventually you let him up from his kindly uncomfortable position on the floor, his back strained against the metal grates. You totally don’t threaten to throw him at Alcina’s doorstep if he doesn’t make that new dagger for you.

Karl loved that about you, how feisty and wild you could be. It meant you were a great training partner and both of you either trained together often. Being small had its too. One thing Karl lacked was finesse and you were much more agile and skilled in your movements.

Other times you’d help Karl out in the factory by lifting boxes of scrap metal or even welding some of the weapons. He absolutely loved that about you, how he could easily be comfortable with you and his heart swelled when he could teach you all that he knew about metal. For the first time in a long time it felt like someone was on his side.

One day Karl saw you take a Soldat out with your new dagger and to say that it didn’t scare the shit out of him would be a fucking lie. Soldats were taller than him for christ sake.

Karl loved you though. He loved how fierce you were but you had the heart of gold and to him, you were this perfect little being that made his heart beat twice as fast when he was with you.

He loved that you could hold your own and would stand up to anyone but in the closed doors of the factory he got to see a softer more tender side of you filled with tender kisses and tight hugs.

[mememyers]

Shape of Water

part three 2/2

Salvatore Moreau x reader

summary: sal and the reader finally meet each other!!

warnings: cursing, other then that none

words: 979ish

a/n: i’m so sorry this took so long :((

——

Salvatore's eyes grow weary as the sun starts to set low, casting shadows on your now fully laid down body. You haven't woken up yet and Sal gets more and more worried at the sun inches lower and lower. He can’t leave you out here during the night, the lycans still prowl around the Reservoir under the cover of darkness. Mother Miranda's gift to Salvatore often leaves him in pain, but it also gave him immense strength, he’ll have to carry you into his home so the lycans don't chew you up.

He’s nervous, no one has been in his little cave in so very long. The lords don't see each other much anymore now that everything's settled, the only reason they saw each other before was because of the meetings held by Mother Miranda. But you're not just anyone, you're his person now. He’s been harboring feelings for you since he saw you wading through the clear pool of water near the edge of the Reservoir, since he had to scare away that bastard of a boy. Sal starts to seeth at just the thought of him, but before he can dwell on it further he shakes his head and thinks of the matter at hand.

He climbs up onto the dock, his wet, webbed hands slapping against the rotten wood. His slick and slimy skin gets irritated by the wood so he wraps you up in his arms quickly, leaving your backpack on the dock as his hunched form carries you to the best of his ability. Salvatore hobbles through the entrance to his home, being incredibly careful not to hit your head on anything. As he sets you down on an old, musty mattress (the only thing he had to set you on, where he lays his own head to sleep) he notices the wet stains he left on your clothes and the droplets of dirty, murky water on your clean skin.

You stir for a few seconds as you get comfortable, he worries you’ll wake up and see him without his cloak on. He’s worried you’ll see his lumpy, uneven chest and neck, or worse his eyeball-ridden hunched-over back. But your eyes don't open and he slinks away, back out of the cave to grab your backpack from the dock.

Waking up in a dingy poorly lit mine-cave-turned-home is not what you thought would happen after falling asleep on a dock. You also didn't think it would be pitch black outside when you stumble around and find a door. Your heart starts to race as you back into the cave, the backs of your knees bump against a stool and you start to fall over. The rocky floor scraps up your knees when you land with a thump against it, letting out a whimper as you grow increasingly more upset and scared. You stand up and go back to the little bed you had been laying on; not long after, a hooded, hunchbacked figure hobbles into the little space. He freezes up, noticing your very much awake form.

“H-hello?” You call to him, and in return, he awkwardly waves at you. You can see a weird film between his fingers, almost like they're webbed together… Like some sort of sea creature. He slinks forward, making you look down at his little feet, which are also webbed like his hands. He sets your backpack down next to the bed, making absolutely sure to hide his face and body from you. “What am I doing here?” The tone of your voice is firm, there's no way you feel safe around this random man who possibly kidnapped you.

A sort of gurgling sounds from his throat as he starts to answer you: “Y-you had... Fallen asleep on the dock, i-if I hadn't taken you in… The lycans would've gotten you.” He paces a few feet away from you, the malice in your voice makes him shiver, both in fear as well as a sick sort of anticipation.

“I-I have something for you!” He says excitedly, wobbling over to a counter a few feet away, grabbing something small off of it. Watching him get closer was both uneasy and somehow familiar, where had you seen him before? Images of the water, thin, inky hair, and large blue eyes invade your mind. He's the man from the water! The one you had been waiting for when you'd fallen asleep.

With a new sense of awe and familiarity, you regard him more kindly as he holds his hand out for you to take the small, tan seashells resting in his grey palm. You slowly take them, letting your own dry skin connect with his clammy hand. Lingering there you attempt to look under his hood, but he backs away and cowers even farther into his chest. A part of you knows this large, hunched over man is Lord Moreau, but a smaller, more hopeful part, doesn't care.

“You're the man in the water… The one who scared off that boy.” You whisper, standing up to get closer to him, he doesn't run away. You reach for his cold, cold hand and hold it closer to your chest, unknowingly making his heart race, and are overcome with gratitude for him.

“Thank you so much for being there, I-I don't know what would've happened if you hadn't stepped in… Well, swam in.” You giggle slightly but he doesn't react much, just nods and gently guides you back to the bed. He sits you down and says you should get some more rest, you doubt you will since you supposedly slept the day away on the dock, but you lay down anyway and watch him nervously wring his hands together and leave the cave.

The rest of the night is spent looking up at the rock ceiling and wondering just where Lord Moreau went.

[duckit7]

Online Dating Can Be Hard 8

I’m just gonna place this here quietly. Lots of talk in this chapter but those who have had rough times know that sometimes rambles is what you need. Also the first shower after many days of not because you were in a dark place hits very different.... Enjoy!

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

There was a knock on the door. I stumbled through the dark apartment and looked through the peep hole. There stood Sal. Sal was a tall, well-built man with one of the best mustaches I had ever seen. His dark skin complexion and emerald eyes made him popular with both the men and women.

I opened the door and was greeted by both his charismatic personality and heavy cologne. “Hey Cam. Kate said you haven’t texted her in over a week and is low key worried about you. She sent me over to check up on you. Mind if I come in?” His sultry voice was straight to the point as always.  

I nodded, moving to the side to let him in. He eyed my unkept hair and sunken in eyes as he entered. “Dude, there is no nice way of putting this… You look like shit.”

Yep… Sal, always straight to the point. “Yeah man… Sorry… Had a hard week at work…” I lied.

Sal ran his fingers over the dirty dishes piled high in the sink. “Yeah… A hard week at work… Eh…” his voice full of suspicion.

I let out a deep sigh. “Fine… I’ve just been battling some past demons is all… I’m good though…” Even I didn’t believe the last bit.

Sal walked over to my couch and patted the seat next to him. “Sit.” He commanded.

I groaned but complied.

“So, what is really going on Cam. Kate said you went home a week and a half ago and she hasn’t heard from you since. She said you were really excited to go home too. Part of her thought that you decided you missed it so much that you just stayed there.” Sal said spreading his form confidently across his corner of the couch.

“I did go home the weekend before last… It was good. Got to see my family and stuff. Learned my best friend is having his first kid which is pretty exciting…” I said fiddling with my fingers absent minded.

“And…” Sal prompted.

A sigh escaped my lips. “I went to see my father’s grave. He died of an unfortunate accident when I was younger. My best friend met me there and we chatted. He really made me think of some decisions I’ve been making in my life…” I said glancing to the side.

“Let me take a wild guess. It has to do with a certain human named Kate…” Sal continued.

I pursed my lips and nodded. “What gave that away?” I chuckled sadly.

Sal snorted a soft laugh, “You immediately stopped texting her after that and seemed to completely remove yourself from the friend chat without actually doing so.”

I let out a sharp breath and nodded.

“Look man.” Sal said putting a caring hand on my knee. “We aren’t some fair-weather friends. As much as you might hate it we are here for your good and bad days.” He then slid over and pulled me into a side hug. “It was a human wasn’t it… That killed your father…”

I couldn’t hold the tears back any longer. My face dropped to my hands as I wept for the fourth time that week. Sal rubbed my back softly.

“My little brother died when a human was impatient and didn’t want to wait for the parvus cross light. They went out of their way to pass the car in front of them before driving through the crosswalk. My brother didn’t see it coming… The driver didn’t stop either. They just kept going. No one got the plate because it happened so fast, so the driver was never found…” Sal said. His voice was heavy with sadness.

“How… How can you stand being around the creatures who can do such horrendous things to us without thinking… without caring!” I choked out.

Sal looked up at me with knowing eyes. “I use to be filled with hate towards humans. I thought every human didn’t give a fuck about parvuses. That they didn’t care if we lived or died. We were just insignificant bugs to them. I let the hate consume me for a while. Till one day a human saved me. A storm had set in on my way home and the waters were rising fast. I was on the bus with other parvus. By the time we realized we were in trouble it was too late. The water was up to the doors as the bus was half floating, half sinking. Then by some miracle the water started to lower around the bus. I looked outside and saw a human man heaving us up with both hands. He was soaked to the bone in a nice suit from work. I then started to notice other humans doing similar things. Carrying cars, busses, or just parvuses. Usually, the city is pretty good about putting out alerts on heavy rain fall, but this time they were caught off guard. Our human counterparts didn’t leave us out there to die though. Everyone was making a conscious effort so save as many of us as possible. I saw on the news that only 15 parvuses died in the flash flood. 15!! That day marked the start of my mind set shift towards humans.”

Sal paused. He turned to look out of the window into the night. “I took a step back after that and really started to think about how I treated both humans and parvuses alike. My hate had made me act poorly towards humans and parvuses who liked humans. They in turn would act poorly towards me. It created a cycle of hate which, inevitably, had started with me. When I started treating them with respect, they in turn started to treat me with respect. Breaking the circle of hate opened a new world to me.”

Sal turned back to face me. “Sorry that I rambled… Basically not all the humans have hate and selfishness in their hearts. Did I ever tell you how I met Kate and the gang?”

I shook my head in reply.

“Marcy and I had been friends for a while. Since freshman year of college. We had been sitting at one of the local taverns enjoying a couple of drinks when some drunk fools came over and started giving us a hard time about basically being small. Marcy and I tried to get up and leave, but they barred the exit off the platform with a hand. I definitely thought this was going to end badly, but then Kate pulled a Kate and swooped in to help. She told the dudes to fuck off and baited them away while Harry and Sam scooted in to create a barrier for us. Kate even threw out the cheesy line of mess with someone your own size!”

I let a small chuckle fly as I had no problem picturing a confident Kate saying something like that.

“The bouncer stepped in before anything happened luckily. What killed me though, was that Kate pouted for half the night because she really wanted to kick the guys’ asses. You and I both know she could have too! She is a fucking built human! If I didn’t know she was a huge softy and goof ball I would definitely be terrified of her!” Sal exclaimed.

I couldn’t hold back hardy laugh. “I complete agree with you there man!”

“That was basically how the crew got together. We started to go for drinks together on a regular basis after that. It was low key nice having human friends. Like, I don’t like them just because they are human… I like them because they are just genuinely good people. But we get messed with a lot less when we are with them. They are kinda like our own personally bodyguards.” Sal said as he lounged on the couch staring at the ceiling.

I nodded as I relaxed into the couch. We sat in silence for a while as my mind tried to make sense of everything.

“Look man… I don’t know if any of this helped… But I just want you to know you are not alone. We are all here for you. I also understand if you need to take a break from humans for a while. We all work through things at our own speeds. Kate said she would leave you alone if you want. I on the other hand will be checking in if that’s cool. We’ve all been in this dark spot before and as much as it can get annoying having someone check in, you will find it is also kinda nice.” Sal said rising from the couch and turning to leave.

I couldn’t hold myself back as I wrapped myself around him in a tight hug. Sal was a bit surprised by recovered quickly as he returned the hug.

“Thank you.” My voice so full of emotion was barely audible.

“No worries, man. This is what friends are for.” He said resting his chin softly on top of my head. We stood there for a moment before I broke the embrace.

Sal gave me one last smile as he ruffled my hair. “No rush, but text Kate when you feel up to it! The only reason that woman hasn’t come down here and pulled you out the window is because she knows it would scare the shit out of you!” Sal tossed back as he walked to the door. He paused before looking back at me once more. “She cares way more about you than she puts on I hope you know. So just let her know you are ok. Ok?”

I nodded with a small smile on my face. “I’ll shoot her a text. And Sal… Thanks for coming over…”

Sal tipped his imaginary hat before slipping out the door. I was once left in my quiet apartment alone with my thoughts again. Only this time the pain and anger that had been screaming at me before was but a whisper fading into the night. “I need to text Kate tomorrow.” I mumbled to myself as I walked to the bathroom to take the first shower in five days.

[misanthropecopy]

@popgoesthesneaselreturns​ asked:

"I know you don't celebrate the holidays. But, I still want to give you a gift. A song is my gift..." Sal shut his eyes before singing a peaceful song with his tone pure. “No one’s happier than I…I feel like reaching up to the touch the sky…I’m riding on a cloud…I could sing right outloud…I’m aglow and I know the reason why…” “No one’s luckier than I…my happy heart inside is riding high…I’ll tell the sun and moon that the world is in tune…and the birds all can sing a lullaby…” Sal bowed.

         It was crystal clear that almost all holidays were NOT Mewtwo’s cup of tea, for she saw no point in concealing such factors. Mewmas however was by far the worst one of all, because whilst many happened to be joyously reveling in their glorified propaganda of that infuriating mythical, this time stabbed her with memories involving own origins. This silent agony was so great that legendary felt like she had no choice, but to briefly leave village on wretched day. Her being forced to leave for more than a whole week, because of one Rocket leader possibly detecting presence in area hardly alleviated hardships either. Indeed there was just so much which transpired during horrid month, that legendary felt frightened towards the prospect of her anger accidentally harming an innocent. Thus she had yet another reason to stay away, from all who didn’t purposely approach her.

         The remnants of snow amidst village had melted a bit, turning dry ground into mud and dirtying their once pure white sheen. Evergreens towered above them, like buildings among cities. Both Pokemon were currently in a more ancient part of the forest, where trees who lived more than one hundred years flourished, fell and decayed. It was a rare place, which Psyche often found herself marveling at. Sitting on a fallen log, she took note of the moss and fungi growing upon it. Strange, how with decay there also flourished new life. When the Sneasel approached, amethysts regarded him coolly; that fire she had towards others long quenched enough to not take fury out on bystanders. 

          Head slightly tilted, displaying minor curiosity as to what his singing voice would sound like. Though she read many of Sneasel’s memories, Psyche found that what creatures believed they sounded like was often different compared towards reality. Additionally he was no Meloetta or Primarina, so Mewtwo tried not to have any expectations on how this would be performed. Fortunately, the ice-type’s show was a far-cry from being subpar.

         Having only heard of a Primarina’s performance through other’s recollections and literally being made only for battle, Psyche nary believed she was suitable for constructively critiquing some singer’s voice. Nevertheless, clone acknowledged that there were some differences betwixt soloist Pokemon’s and Salvador’s performance. For one thing though the minds she saw shows from were quite limited on hearing, compared towards hers experiment had no doubt that water-type’s vocals were much more complex. Still Sal’s act WAS impressive, especially when one considered that his species were not known for such gestures. What was most important of all however, was the fact that he happened to be caroling from his heart which when comprehending those lyrics prompted small smile upon lips. 

         “That was lovely, Salvador,” she replied, genuinely. Opting to give him a gift in turn, she then with one thought gathered some flowers around them through psychic. Twirling them she then swiftly created a little bracelet, before giving it to Sneasel. “I regrettably am no singer myself, so perhaps this will suffice?” 

[bileshroom]

how do you feel about the new sally face chapter?

Im glad you asked! under a read more for spoilers for chapter 5

Myself and Fox are giving our opinions in this post so it will be very long

There were things i really liked and things i really didnt like

for example, the swapping dimensions and the changing art styles were very neat! i liked some more than others, like the rubber hose style for sal could of been a bit different in my opinion, @shinysnek did an edit/drawing and tweeked the tiniest thing and made the design alot more palatable 

and the minigames were… really repetitive and sometimes very confusing ? esp todds door, the plus’s were almost impossible to notice! slightly darker grey against light grey just makes it look like part of the door :/ and the 3d bits were a bit hard to control during the later part of the game

and the writing,, it felt super rushed as if he just wanted to saddle alot of the damage onto native americans??? that completely came out of the blue, like he couldnt come up with some sort of cop out for why the cult is doing what they do

and still with the weird queer baiting with larry? like he made them brothers but is still pushing it, if steve wanted sal’s love interest to be ash why not have moments like ‘that’ with her instead?? it feels very uncomfortable in my opinion especially with him saying he was still,,comfortable with the ship which REALLY rubs me the wrong way

and the ending,,, dont even,, TALK to me about the ending, it honestly made me so upset?? like, and the epilogue to go with it,,, like okay cool the worlds still fucked over and todds still corrupt and larrys just gone??? for no real reason???????? hes just gone :| okay 

gnome larry was funny tho, didnt really explain why Larry got super old while megan stayed a 7 year old, i suppose you can explain it with like when ghosts arent bound to a place they can wither and age? i dunno whatever chapter 5 sucked and it felt like steve just didnt want to do it anymore

—

my turn! alright im going to be typing my opinion from a fellow writer and programmer’s POV.

the beginning of the game kinda drops you in which was a little surprising, considering the other chapters were very rich with exposition which is one of the things i loved about SF. 

It had this way of bringing you in even though you didnt know what the heck was going on. It made you want to learn more and it felt like you were THERE with sal. 

But this opening with just… ash tossed in fell a little… flat. yeah… graveyard… lets toss in some epitaphs as a reminder of who died, ok… cool. 

next lets talk a little about the general story. im not going to lie, this felt like a TOTALLY different game to me and I played them all in succession again to remind myself of the other chapters. 

It was so… plain. It didnt have the eerie-ness of the bologna incident, it didnt have the intriguing mystery of the first chapter where it started you off in the hospital as a little boy with your face hidden, it didnt have that heart wrenching storyline of the 4th chapter.

it was just…. “i need to end this game quick”. 

there was just a unique feeling to the other chapters, something that made you feel gritty and floaty, like you were a dirty teenager hunting for ghosts.

Saddling the natives on the unexplained reason as well… BIG YIKES, steve. the silent hill movies pulled this crap too, and we can all see how flat that fell in comparison to the actual silent hill 3 game. 

There are so so many things you could do instead of that tired (and lets face it) racist stereotype. 

I thought it was going to have a deeper meaning, like… people have had cults for decades that didnt have to do with the natives. hell, he could have even kept with the weird alien theme he was going for. calling an ancient alien creature? that would be pretty badass.

The ending… fell disappointingly flat. ok… everyones dead? so you tortured sal and his pals for literally no reason? granted i didnt press the c4 button so im not sure how that path goes, but i doubt its any more satisfying. 

not to mention the constant queerbaiting that, at this point, makes me so uncomfortable.

yes we get it, steve. you think adopted brothers can fuck, and yeah, theres nothing TECHNICALLY wrong with it (and im using technically by definition, its still wrong in my eyes), but come on. can any of you tell me that wouldnt make you intensely uncomfortable? Its not ok what he did imo and i know its his characters, but steve? either dont make them brothers or stop fucking pushing their romantic interactions.

oh and lets talk about the only other canonly gay couple with any screen time! he killed the black one.

yep… just… let that sink in for a second. did he need to? absolutely not. at least not in such a pointless way.

didnt even give neil any character development tbh, just… token black gay man that needed to be there to be the motivator to search for todd. ok thanks, steve.

and travis (another not white character. no do not argue that hes “blonde”, sal has fucking blue hair and i WILL color pick travis if i have to). he was the other gay character who… yep, lemme look at my notes… died.

he didnt even get much of a redemption tbh, yeah he was secretly helping them, but… wow. toss him in the hole! we dont want to write gays!!! (unless we’re taunting people to get them to play under the guise of “lgbt representation”)

also larrys a gnome and is just… gone forever. just say you hate larry, steve. you didnt have to do him so dirty man.

now then, lets talk about the gameplay.

i was playing with an xbox controller so im going to be from that POV.

the controls were… ok for the most part. the 3d part was a bit hard to see and i got stuck trying to walk past the trees a lot. 

to be honest, the 3d is my only complaint with controls. the mini game later on where youre 3d and shooting tentacles was very hard to control, half the time it wouldnt move fast enough and the other half it would zip past the diagonals. i DID beat it, but i am a very good gamer. to other people who might not play games constantly, might have a bit more trouble and get frustrated.

the puzzles were bland and repetitive. im a horror puzzle game writer and i would NEVER do something this blasphemous in a horror style game. it removes you from the game to think “wow…. THIS puzzle AGAIN?”. it makes you feel like its insulting your intelligence, like “oh here you go you fucking baby, move the shape to match the other shape”

and one of the only other puzzles was that fucking door number puzzle. he made the pluses almost impossible to see for starts, and i KNOW other people had trouble with this. Wanna know how to fix this? make the pluses easier to see and make it so the input pad can only except the number of numbers that the code it. dont make me sit there like a jackass, typing in every conceivable way to order the numbers given.

all in all though, the gameplay was plain, the storyline was bland, the puzzles were mediocre and the only reason to play the chapter is to close up the story and to find out what happened to sal and his mom (which tbh was the only good part because i was actually surprised and excited that it was that that injured him)

i hope in steves next projects he actually figures out how to write an ending and doesnt rush it (and please keep in mind this was rushed even though he had multiple people helping him)

-fox

[at-the-exd-of-everythixg]

“Wulf?” Mimi stood next to the large man, raising an eyebrow at the sight before her. “Whaaat are we lookin’ at here?” 

Wulf glanced down at Mimi, a smile playing on his face and growing bigger by the minute. The powerhouse herself couldn’t help but return the grin, when Wulf smiled, it made you want to smile...even if he was smiling over something rather weird. The thing he was smiling over in question seemed to be an oversized bird feeder, which, wasn’t that weird but...it’s what Wulf had set up that had made it so odd.

The bottom layers of the feeder seemed to have been dangling meat. Large raw pieces of different animals that looked about ready for a bear. The middle part of it was filled with different sorts of pastries and chocolate before leading upwards to different fruits. All of them seemed to have honeycomb pieces strew through the rows.

“Oh, oh!” Mimi’s mismatched eyes widen as the answer suddenly hit her like a train wreck. “Oh no! Wulf! That’s-” She covered her mouth with a scaled hand, grinning and already starting to giggle alongside the Asgardian. “That’s terrible! Mahogany, I get, but the other two? i don’t think-” She laughed more silently as Wulf held up a hand, pointing towards the woodland clearance not too far off from the Main house. 

Already Mahogany was padding through on far too skinny legs that shouldn’t have been able to hold them up but Mimi knew by now that Magni-baby was far stronger than anyone could ever really know. She didn’t doubt that they could probably beat anyone on a fight and even hold their own against Mordecai in a mind battle. But right now, it was...incredibly funny and sad to see such a terrifying creature gasp in delight before padding over to start sniffing and reaching  up onto their hind.....legs? Hoofs? Paws? They were up there and pulling down slabs of meat.

Mimi held out her hands, still grinning at the sight. “Well...I mean, of course you’d have MooMoo going after it,” She said, ignoring the way Wulf mouthed “MooMoo?”. “But you know they don’t eat much fruit, or chocolate and I doubt the others are going to fall for it, for real this time.” Honestly, the sight of a giant cat deer was funny to watch but Mimi wasn’t sure if it was the most respectable thing to do to them? 

Then again, Mahogany always had liked little puzzles and easy ways to get food and it was cute to see them beam over at Mimi, chirping happily when she and Wulf waved to them. Well...Wulf made this out of affection rather than spite and it was-

......Sal had just flown down, tilting in the air curiously at the sight of the overgrown bird feeder before shrugging and plopping himself down on top of Mahogany’s head to grab a chocolate muffin. 

“No,” Oh Bast, this was too good. Sal had dignity but not even he seemed to realise that was was enjoying something Wulf built for amusement. The scaled mutant leaned over the porch railings, content to watch two of her friends enjoy the snacks that had been set up for them unknowingly. It was nice, to see the two of them so relaxed and happy. 

Which was...it was nice. Mahogany often got too worried about being caught out and ruining the pack they had, which made them flighty in the best of times and aggressive at their worst. Sal supposedly worked in the opposite manner and Mimi could see the way the small star often got tense and scared of all of the people he suddenly had in his life. 

But they’d be fine, they always were after all. Mimi had thought her life wold end up being nothing but rough fights that got too dirty and left her raggedly crying every other week before Edith had came. The Asgardian had been left rather starry-eyed at the way Mimi mixed her violence and her arts together and even more so when Mimi had revealed just how strong she really was, how she always practised and help back in case something went wrong.

She still did wrestling, the Ocean Powerhouse could never be stopped after all, but it was nice to have some support for the shitty days and to be able to makes jokes with Pascal and Lace before even Finn begged them to stop. 

And, well, it didn’t help the fact that Edith was practically a walk on the beach herself. 

Moments like these were what she adored too, especially when even Ava came down, took once glance at the bird feeder that Mahogany and Sal were making happy noises at, and shrugged before settling down and nabbing an apple to chew on. She was probably aware of Wulf snorting so hard he choked, but the hybrid seemed to deal with it well enough that she let it go on. Obviously Ava cared more about the fruit she had rather than facing any shame in the silent comparisons of small birds that Mimi was definitely making. 

“She’s going to let them know,” Mimi’s mismatched eyes looked up at Wulf and she grinned, more so when she saw that sudden nervous glint in his eyes. God, he was such a dope. 

“I mean...” She carried on. “Mahogany will be fine, you know they’re going to tackle you for giving them this but Sal?” Oh, he was gonna be pissed, she couldn’t wait. He always reacted badly to attention and nice gestures or gestures that made him feel like he was being made fun of...or gestures at all really. He took them if anyone pressed hard enough but people like Wulf, their sheer love and earnest gestures, had always gotten Sal and Ava much more flighty. 

But it was fine. They would all learn how to deal with each other, one way or another. Mimi just supposed that it would involve more of Wulf running and screaming when three heads suddenly snapped over at him and began the chase when Ava had finally let slip what exactly the sudden influx of snacks were all about. 

Mimi just laughed and beamed when she finally noticed another Asgardian arriving back to the Main house. Edith was going to give that quirk of an eyebrow that secretly said she was laughing just as much when Mimi took her by the arm in order to watch Mahogany tackle Wulf gleefully while Sal screeched when he and Ava were eventually pulled into the messy hug too. 

Life was good, and it would only get better. 

[the-slimes]

Ten seconds.

So much happened in those ten seconds. Before he could even get a note out, the creature was on top of him, digging it's dirty nails into Sal's slimy flesh. Letting out an agonized cry, he thrashed, desperately trying to slip away. He managed to free an arm and thrust his elbow into it's face.

Boy, was it's anger audible.

The next 13 seconds were a blur.

The creature let up. Sal reached his flute. Played. The beast screeched, swiping once more before giving up and fleeing.

Sal lowered his flute, smirking contentedly. He allowed himself to rest on a rock and do another self inspection. The same leg gashes, little bruises and cuts from before, accompanied by some fresh nail punctures in his shoulders and face, and forming bruise by his collarbone from where the bastard pinned him with its elbow. It was gonna be a bitch getting home and his leg needed attention before it got infected, but so long as he was alive, he was just fine.

Even with all the shit that just went down, Seamus smiled. His heart was racing, his adrenaline lowering back down, his breathing heavy. He hadn't had that much excitement in a long time! But now he was alone with his beloved nature and his music. The flowers seemed to smile back at him, the water was unbothered by the whole show.

Finally.

Some damn peace and quiet.

[tatzebea]

Makers of the Elements

Name: Undine Aqva Kind: Elemerian Element: Water Height: 1,68 m Personality: Personification of Water and Quotell's, the Leviathan, daughter. The 17 years old young lady is very cautious. She doesn't trust others very easily. Completely trusts Quotell though. But she is often worried about her father due to him being blind. Can cook quite good. Undine likes to wear pretty dresses, which often get dirty, since she lives in a swampy area. However, she doesn't like wearing shoes and prefers to be barefoot. Often goes to the Haven Town to gather food and other useful things. She is very reliable and tries to be mature. Gets in a lot of arguments with Salamander at first. The young woman didn't like the other elements at first and reluctantly went to meet them. Later she learns to trust them and becomes friends with them. She learned to use her element ever since she knew her father is blind and mastered it very fast. She is elegant, but doesn't mind to stop being ladylike. Her fighting style is swift and graceful, like a river. With her being born with the Leviathan's water, she is the elusive Water Spirit. Abilities: -Diamond Dust (Multiple ice shards appear and dance around the user. Attacks the enemy mercilessly after a while)                 -Ice Age (Calls the power of the moon. With the aligned stars freezes enemies and self. Shatters every enemy into pieces)                 -Healing wave (Cleansing water rains down. Heals self and allies)

Name: Sylph Aer Kind: Elemerian Element: Air Height: 2,10 m Personality: Personification of Air and Gunda's, the Dragon, son. This 17 years old is quite shy and tends to be very silent. Also hides in his clothes to seem small and mousy. If he does speak however, his voice has an air of authority. He is mature and often stops Undine's and Salamander's conflicts. Much like his mother, he is very smart and knows quite a lot. Due to an accident, that happened when he was 5, he has a fear of fire. Sylph is curious and likes to learn new things. If it gets hectic around him and the other three, he stays calm and collected and tries to solve the problem. Much like the air, he is swift and gentle. Yet when it comes to it he can be sharp and strong. Tends to use lightning based attacks in battle. Born by the dragon's air, he is the breezy Air Spirit. Abilities: -Lightning Strike (Creates electricity and attacks the enemy with controlled precision)                 -Gamma Lightning (Calls the power of a broken star. A single lightning strikes, damages the ozone and causes catastrophic damage towards enemies and self)                 -Vacuum (Swift wind appears to reflect enemies attacks)

Name: Gnome Terra Kind: Elemerian Element: Earth Height: 1,50 m Personality: Personification of Earth and Kadawei's, the Behemoth, daughter. The small 16 years old girl is cheerful. She wants to be friends with everyone and doesn't shy back by strangers. She might be small but she is very strong and energetic. Doesn't like when Undine and Salamander fight and wants the four of them to be friends. Learned to use herbs as medicine by her mother. A friendly girl. Quick to be friends with others. She is polite, but don't take her kindness for a weakness. Gnome knows when to be serious and act mature. Like her mother, she cares for those she calls her friends. Unintentionally, she teases Sylph by petting him and playing with his long cloth. Fights with strong natural abilities and is quite a good boxer. She was born out of Behemoth's earth and is the solid Earth Spirit. Abilities: -Crystallite (Creates crystals to attack enemies at random)                 -Meteor Strike (Calls the power of the earth. Let's a comet strike and erodes the enemy)                 -Herbal Remedy (Usage of herbs to cure status problems)

Name: Salamander Ignis Kind: Elemerian Element: Fire Height: 1,65 m Personality: Personification of Fire and Finex's, the Phoenix, son. A friendly 17 years old. Gets bullied for the lack of his fire ability and his tail. Due to not being able to use his element, his father made him learn to use his claws to defend himself. Calls his father "Old Man" and likes to tease him, but has overall a good relationship with him. Has slight depression but fake smiles a lot to hide it. Often gets called Sal or Sally for short. He gets often in arguments with Undine, but later on he gets along with her and the rest. Befriends Paracelcus for a short time. Learns to use his element quite late. He has markings on his left hand that store the power of fire. Does a lot for his friends and loves to be useful. He can become furious, especially if he feels used and betrayed. Salamander wants that others are proud of him, especially his father. Born from the Phoenix's fire, he is the fierce Fire Spirit. Abilities: -Blazing Claw (Ignites claws to cut through the enemy)                 -Sun Eruption (Calls the power of the sun. Blazing plasma from the sun burns everything it touches into ash)                 -Losing Control (Heat makes self stronger. Causes the user to not think clearly anymore)

Name: Aristotle Kind: Elemerian Element: Aether Height: 1,80 m Personality: Dimeter's protege. The only known person to use Aether. Aether lends out the world's power and gives it back after usage. This 16 years old is quiet. They seem like they don't trust others, but they're actually quite nice and trusting. Yet they are still cautious. Aristotle is living with Dimeter in her library. Unlike her, they aren't interested in books and rather likes to go outside. Due to being the only one who is able to use Aether, they learned to use it on their own. They are quite melancholic. They tend to create a lance out of the quintessence of their world, Elemeria, to defend themself. Much like their guardian, they know their way around the capital and it’s shortcuts. Aristotle rather uses their senses instead of logic. A very natural person. Abilities: -Lance of Light (Uses the power of the soul of the world to create a lance to use as a weapon)                 -Gamma Beam (Uses the lance to store the world's soul. Fires a grand beam at the opponent and makes a barrier to protect self and allies. Causes severe damage)                 -Light's Guidance (Protects user and allies for a short time)

Names: Empedocles, Paracelcus Kind: Elemerians Element: Void Heights: 1,75 m (Empedocles), 1,78 m (Paracelcus) Personalities: Twin brothers and Zehl's kin. Both are 17 years old, with Paracelcus being the older twin. The only two who can use Void, which they don’t know anything about. Empedocles, the black haired twin, seems at first quite sneaky and foxy. He is the one who rather does the dirty work. Was the one who gathered the personifications of the elements, ordered by his brother. He wants the best for his brother and sometimes ignores his own well being, much to the worries of Zehl. Gets called Empy by his brother. Unlike his brother, Empedocles doesn't use the power of Void as often, which makes him the stable one out of them. Mostly uses Void to create his rapier. Loves food. Actually a very kind person, but gets influenced and manipulated by his brother a lot. Paracelcus, the white haired twin, seems like a nice and friendly person. Became friends with Salamader for a brief time. Wants to be called Para for short. Quite a cheerful person. Is actually quite passive aggressive and gets angry fast. Does love his brother, but can be, unintentionally, very abusive and manipulative. Has small wings. Excessively uses his element, Void, which causes him to become unstable quite a lot. Can create a sword out of Void, one out of two abilities that doesn't consume his mental well being. Very self destructive. Abilities (Empedocles):               -Cut through the Darkness (Uses rapier made of Void to tear through the enemy)                 -Dark Heart (Creates darkness that consumes the surroundings to make black wings. The more it consumes, the stronger the wings get. Causes immense damage to enemy and paralysis. User becomes slightly unstable)                 -Night Sight (Makes tendrils out of void. Keeps user and allies save for a little while)

Abilities (Paracelcus):                 -Erode the Land (Uncontrollable destruction with the sword made out of Void around self. Makes the user unstable)                 -Bloodied Ever After (Uncontrollable usage of Void to create goop like sludge. Can form to creatures at will that attack the enemy. Can consume others and self to make them stronger, yet controllable. Makes user unstable)                 -Feathered Finale (Makes white wings stronger. Cleans mind, soul and heart. Makes user stable. Doesn't always work)

[entomolog-t]

These two precious Gremlins, now in colour. 

----

Mark watched Sal fawn over the little leggy monstrosity from the corner of his eye.

He definitely said ladies... He chewed on his lip. There had better not be another spider just freely roaming around his house. As much as he cringed at the sight of Betty, he was both impressed and relieved that she never seemed to leave Sal’s side. 

Mark rolled his eyes as he heard Sal cooing to the little creature. He was the epitome of cringey “pet parent.” Although... he had to admit, it was rather endearing, albeit unnerving. 

“Mark! Look!” Sal called out, and Mark begrudgingly turned to look directly at the borrower and his ... companion.

With a comically large grin, Sal adjusted Betty into one arm, and with his free hand, he waved to Mark. And to Mark’s horror, so did she. 

----

I love Sal’s redesign so much. That dirty little mullet suits his gremlin personality so well. 

[elysiumrp]

Congratulations SAL! You have been accepted as Jarred Truell. Please go through the checklist and send in your account within 24 hours. If you need more time, make sure you send a message to the main.

Um, so can I just say amazing application? There was so much detail that I truly, truly feel I know where you’re planning to go with Jarred, and that makes me so happy. Jarred is a very important member of the city of New York right now because of his involvement with Nature’s Botanicals (and the secret meetings in its back room), so I’m thrilled that we will be having a Jarred here from the beginning! He has a lot of darkness (obviously) that’ll definitely be interesting and nice to explore, and i can’t wait to see how Jarred handles everything that he’s going to learn throughout his journey. It’s certainly going to be a tough next couple of months for him, and we’ll all have to wait and see his mental and emotional state when he makes it to the end. It’s sure to be traumatizing to say the least. Welcome to Elysium!!

OOC INFO

Name: Sal Age: 20 Timezone: PST Preferred Pronouns: He/Him/They/Them/She/Her Previous RP Experience: [RFP] Activity Level:  9 or a 10 up until school starts back up again then probably a 8 or 9. Anything Else: N/A

IC INFO

Character Name: Jarred Truell Why did you choose this character:

The reason I chose Jarred was because I have a sweet spot for broken characters that have daddy issues and I feel that he fits the bill. I think it would be interesting to see how he interacts with the other characters that already know of him because of his dad. The reactions that the others give will definitely play a huge role of how much of a part he will want to play in the Resistance. If people are less willing to have him there because of what they think they know about him it will spark something in him to want to change the views of everyone in the magical community.

He feels extremely sorry for his mother. She had nothing to do with what his father decided to do and to be casted aside because of her relations to the man that decided to fuck everything up and not take into account the backlash that it would have on his wife and son is a terrible thing to burden. He thinks that she must feel as alone as he does, she came from a respectable magical bloodline and for all of that to be torn away in an instant was wrong in his eyes. Now, her family shunned them for one being involved with someone who would dabble in the dark arts and obviously brought shame to their name too.

Jarred doesn’t feel it’s right that everyone still associates him with his dad. He doesn’t so why should everyone else? Of course, he also thinks thats its not their fault for perceiving him the way they do. It was their parents generation that really influenced the whispering and the nervous looks. But, as much as it tears away at him, he’s used to it. Yeah, he wants people’s perception of him to change so that’s why he wants to get back into doing something that will get him redeemed by the magical community. Even if it means leading the Resistance to a new era where the supernaturals come out on top.

Describe your plan for them:

Like I said in the paragraph above, he wants to change what the name Truell means. Right now, it’s a family of witches who use dark magic and are “known” to be unpredictable. He doesn’t want that for the future of his name and for his mother. Jarred wants them to find peace in the community, no more whispering, dirty looks, nervous ticks. He just wants to be a part of the magical community in a positive light.

He wants to make friends. But given the situation that he’s in he has very little of them because of his father. Jarred doesn’t want to feel alone anymore. He has had it with all these emotions that he’s had because of his father. These emotions need to be dealt with one way or another.

I want Jarred to be involved with the Resistance and actually make a positive impact so that it could help with his image and clear up his name hopefully. It’s something that he kind of swore to do after the humans kicked them from their homes and were forced to live like animals.

I also want to build more on him thinking he’s better than humans. In a sense, he is, he can bend the very ether to his will. Of course with some limits but it’s something that no one else can do. I want to see if it’ll go to his head.

Jarred is not in contact with Tereza, who had this history with his father. As much as he says that he doesn’t care about his father and doesn’t care to know him. There’s always this thought in the back of his mind of wanting to get to know her so that maybe someday he can go to her and ask her about the man that left them all those years ago.

I want Jarred to find out about his father. I want him to be comfortable enough to go to Tereza and ask her about him. He says that he doesn’t want to know the man that left but he so desperately needs to know. If not to reach out but to get closure.

Describe your character’s feelings and reactions to the initial reveal of the supernatural world:

Jarred was actually glad that it happened. The reaction however was one that he didn’t think would be too much of a problem. It needed to happen for a number of reasons, one being that they shouldn’t have to hide whether they be the most gruesome of creatures or not they’re still people. The humans obviously don’t see it as the same thing. Of course, there’s reason for them to be afraid but to just kick them out like they did, wasn’t right. Now they gave them more than enough to start the Resistance, so they shouldn’t be shocked when they come at the humans with full force.

He was okay with the fact that they were now exposed because now people weren’t really concerned about what he was doing or who he was as a person. Which was nice for the moment that he did have a little breather. But, now that the dust has settled and people are starting to assimilate back into the way of things he’s starting to get those looks and the whispering is starting up again.

Although, with the shop that he and Oliver have opened up, its making everything a little bit better than how it was before. Not only witches, but most of the other supernatural creatures are coming into the shop to buy necessary magical ingredients for whatever they need. It’s quite a change of pace for him, because now they “need” him. Something that has never even been a concept to him so this should be interesting.

Describe your character’s feelings and reactions to the current state of the world, and how it impacts them as an individual:

Everyone is finally getting back to their lives after the reveal and Jarred can’t help but feel a little overwhelmed. There’s the thing with the world and the Resistance happening, along with him still having to deal with people knowing him because of what his father did and now he even has to hide from the humans that don’t know anything about him but now he has to be extra careful because he doesn’t know whether someone is going to be pro-supernatural or not. As if this wasn’t hard enough, he also has a business to run alongside Oliver thank the stars that he’s not in this alone because he’s feeling the heat somewhat.

Joining the Resistance gives him something in common with all the others that are in the group. Which in turn, gives him something he can hold on to to make new friendships and to get his name cleared. He has this notion that he has to be perfect with everything he does because if god forbid messes something up, it’s going to knock him back so far he might not even want to fight to get back the respect he currently has.

The shop has definitely had a positive impact on Jarred making him feel more comfortable with the idea of helping others. Before he hadn’t really taken an interest in helping others of his kind because of what his reputation that followed him. It’s made him more of a person who would put their needs before his own in a way.

Para Sample:

Some people classify silence as perfect bliss or that it makes them feel at peace in a world of constant vibrations between people and things. Other people say that it makes them go insane, that they can’t go a day without listening to music or being outside and being social. But, for Jarred it was something different. It terrified him.

After finishing up with the customer that was in the shop, he sat down behind the counter where the register sat still. The door chimed letting him know that the customer left. He leaned on the counter with his head resting on his hand. It was silent. All he could hear was the air conditioner that would turn off and on every time the room got to the right temperature. His mind began to wonder into his deep web of thoughts that only surfaced when he was alone. Thoughts about his father were something he never wanted to fully come to terms with, he always pushed them down so that they would never see the light of day.

“Why would he do that? Did he not care for us? What was the reason he had to resort to black magic?” the thoughts continued. His heart began to race, his breathing getting faster. He was having a panic attack. Which is a bad thing even if you’re not supernatural but, since he was a witch it kind of messed with his magic. The lights began to flicker. Jarred jumped off his seat and backed up slowly and tried to get control of his breath and heart rate. “Why did he leave us?” he thought to himself. “Why did he leave me?” the thoughts wouldn’t stop. He shook his head.

The door chimes again. Jarred looks up at the door and the lights stop flickering. The customer smiled at the man, “Do you have any ginger root?” she asked him. The thoughts stopped, he shut them tight like you would a bottle cap. “Sure, right over here.” he said as he stepped around the corner and began to conversate with the woman.

Any questions/concerns/things you’d like to change: (siblings to add, pronouns, sexuality you’d like to specify, personality, face claim, history, etc., etc.)

He’s gay, another reason he feels so distant to his mother is because since his father left his relationship with his mother has been rock too. Not because of what happened but, because he didn’t want to get close to another parent and then have them leave as well. But, it also hasn’t helped that he doesn’t talk to her about the things a child should be able to talk about with their parent. He came out to her but, never talks to her about anything because of the fact that he can’t let anyone in.

Jarred gets these panic attacks when he starts to think about his dad and why he left. Mostly when he’s alone and in silence. Because of this he has insomnia and finds it difficult to sleep most of the time. So he resorts to coffee and smoking. (marijuana and cigarettes) With him being a witch, and his emotions being tied to his powers, sometimes his powers get the best of him and cause things to happen around him.

[godsandvillainsrpg-blog]

Congratulations, LEAH! You have been accepted as SALVATORE GIORDANO.

Note from Admin Jade: From the first few sentences of your application, I was sold — and from then on, every word was an absolute delight. I can’t even express how thrilled I am about your personification of Sal — the way you showed just how easy it would be for him to be the son his parents always wanted, if he was willing to sacrifice his morality. But he isn’t, and therein lies his turmoil. Just as you said, he’s a man driven by fear and morality, and you did such a wonderful job showing the delicate balance between the two that I still have goosebumps. The internal monologue you gave us had me absolutely torn up, showing just how strongly his anxieties rule him — and then you hit me with his dark side, showing how naturally this really does come to him. I’m absolutely in awe. Your rendition of Sal is nothing short of a masterpiece, and I can’t wait to see which direction you take his story in.

OUT OF CHARACTER

Name: Leah Age: 24 Preferred Pronouns: Female, she/her Timezone: EST Activity Level: I would rate it at a seven. Most if not all evenings and most of the weekends. Triggers: REMOVED Anything Else? I’d really appreciate if you read my extras portion before the paras. I feel like Sal is a really complex creature and the headcanons I’ve developed will help frame the paras and help them make more sense. Thank you!

IN CHARACTER

Desired Character: Salvatore Giordano

Describe this character in your own words:

(I wanted to focus more on things outside the bio than a bio recap and yikes it got out of control, I’m sorry…)

If asked to choose a story that describes his own life, Salvatore Giordano would answer Plato’s The Cave every time. The characters in the allegory are raised in a cave believing that shadows and darkness are the undeniable extent of life and reality. Until, of course one leaves, and comes back speaking of the real world—of earth and sky and grass and light. No one believes him. Instead they all want him dead. That’s how Sal has always felt. He sees the world, not for the shadows his family make it out to be, but for the reality of the situation. He sees the violence and manipulation they act on day in and day out, year after year and it churns his stomach. He doesn’t understand why he’s the only one who can see it—but if you know voicing such things would mean your ostracism or your death… would you voice them?

Rather than risk threat of death like the man in The Cave, Sal has always kept quiet, always kept his truths to himself, but it eats away at him. How can he let his family go on living this way? How can they stand to? How can they ask him to be a part of it? He tries his best to fit it, to pretend he’s one of them, but he’s just not. Instead, the weight of being the lone spark of light in a family drowning in blood’s darkness crushes him. Because what if they are right? What if the earth and sky and grass were just in his imagination and the shadows are real? But then, he’s seen the outside world. He knows life and goodness and love. Yet he’s trapped in this world he’s never wanted to be a part of, caged like a canary in a mine. And yet these villains that surround him—they’re all he’s got.

He sees the sins of each family member, and it’s not that he doesn’t hold it against them. He does. Infuriatingly so at times. But he wants to be a part of them. He wants to be accepted. He wants to be loved. So he’ll do as he’s asked. He’ll swallow the poison for the sake of just not having everyone hate him. In a family where superiority is everything, he has always been a letdown. Just once he’d like to be the one who wins the crown, the one his parents smile at, the brother Franco wants to spend time with and Aurora and Alessia can look up to. The one who blends seamlessly into the centuries long tale of the Giordano family. And he’s not. Yet just like every other Giordano before him, he was born with hot blood and a hard head. His family may be fine riding into hell in a burning chariot, but that’s not what Sal wants. For the sake of his morality—for the sake of his sanity—for as much as he wants to be one of them, he’ll stay out of their dirty work as much as he can just so he can sleep a few hours each night. It’s not exactly rebellion, but hell if it isn’t damn close. In spite of his family of vengeful gods, he’ll stand apart as an angel.

But when people speak of angels and demons they always forget one thing: Lucifer, King of Hell himself, was once an angel. For as much as his mind cries out with each sin he commits, Salvatore’s body knows just what to do when he gets his marching orders. It doesn’t just frighten him, it terrifies him. When he gives in to his family’s desires he gives in. And god can it be a work of art to watch. His parents—sometimes in whispers, sometimes in yells—tell him so time and again. If only he gave in, he could be the best without ever really trying. And of all the things in his life, perhaps that’s what scares him the most; that if he gave up his morality, he could have everything his parents ever wanted for him, that he could have their love in an instant, that he could be a King of Rome. But the cost would be his soul and his sanity and he’s not sure it’s a price he’s willing to pay.

So instead, he continues to keep it all inside. He stuffs down every last emotion he’s ever felt for the sake of being able to breathe. He gives into carnal vices rather than violent ones. And somehow he’s driven himself in the arms of a man he can never have. One more thing in his life that he could have if only he were willing to pay the price. But as Cassius has always said, he’s far too cowardly for that. He used to only be torn between two worlds, his morality and his family, but now he’s being torn in three—his morality, his family, or his love. And when fate eventually makes him choose… will there be anything of himself left?

What are this character’s motives?

In my view, Sal is an extremely complex character whose motives can be broken down into two things: Fear and morality.

His morality is perhaps what most people see when they look at him. They see the boy who’s too soft to be a Giordano. The boy who goes to Catholic mass and confessional. The boy who doesn’t want to do his family’s bidding and give in to the darkness that surrounds them. His morality is only able to be a driving force due to a very Giordano trait. Hard-headedness. He’s found his (metaphorical) guns and he’s sticking to them. He’ll do as he’s asked, but no more. He won’t feed the demon inside of him. He’ll keep fighting the isolation and the anxiety and the voices that scream at him non-stop because he’s too damn stubborn to give in. He fought for years of his childhood not sure what was right and what was wrong because his family’s take on it and the general world’s morality were so different, but going away to school, meeting Bernardo, that solidified things for him and he doesn’t want to turn back. He can’t leave his family, not entirely (both from the fear of losing them and the lack of morality it would show to turn his back on his own DNA, particularly after Giuliana has just done the same thing—he knows the kind of blow losing both of them would be to his family), but he doesn’t have it in himself to give in. So he’ll find his little forms of rebellion—even if that’s nothing more than sleeping with a Lefevre, going to church, and not volunteering for the jobs his mother insists he could excel at. Because his heart, soul, and mind couldn’t take it if he gave in to the darkness just below the surface.

Now within the Giordano ring, he’s known as the soft one. But no one really knows how much of his life is driven completely from fear. It fills so much of his life in so many ways he can’t imagine what life would be like without it. He’s afraid he’ll disappoint his family and they’ll turn his back on them. If Giuliana could just walk away, then the family that’s always cast shadows on him easily could as well.  They’re not much and they’re not good, but they’re his. His family, his blood. And even if only financially, they’ve provided for him well. He’s afraid of the demon that lurks just underneath his skin. He doesn’t want to be a Giordano, he doesn’t want to pull off the few jobs he does with such ease, skill, and efficiency. But there it is, lurking below the surface and he’s terrified if he doesn’t watch it close enough, doesn’t do enough good, doesn’t keep the family he’s afraid of losing at arm’s length, that it’ll take over. He’s afraid of Zaine. Of loving him. Of losing him. Of the emotions he stirs in him that he’s never felt before. Of who he may become if he loses him now. Of the massive hurricane of disaster that’s bound to hit their peaceful beach sooner or later. Salvatore may try to play it cool and but the truth is he is so fucking scared all the time.

Every action he takes is led by one of two things—standing the ground of his morality or running desperately from all he fears.

As for his goals? Well the only one he’s got is graduating law school. What will he do after he graduates? He’s not really sure. But then he’s never really been sure. As a Giordano, he was supposed to accept his marching orders as a small child. He was supposed to have a path created for him all his life. But he refuses to go down it. Yet at the same time, taking another one could mean meandering too far away from his family to find his way back. The truth is, other than being a good person who doesn’t instantly burst into flames upon his arrival at the pearly gates, Salvatore doesn’t know what he wants. He’d like to be happy, but long ago he accepted that isn’t in the cards

What potential plots do you foresee for this character? REMOVED

Would you be open to this character’s death? REMOVED

PARA SAMPLES

Para 1:

Sal stared out at the little patch of grass outside his window. It was quiet and peaceful here. He didn’t want to leave, not really. Every object he’d packed away had felt like a needle being pushed into him, breaking his heart. He liked this place; it had helped him find himself. But there was nothing left for him here. The whole point of boarding school had been to get away from his family for a bit to see if their way of life was normal or not. Once at school it couldn’t deny that his family’s life was far too dark and it only sickened him more. After he’d accepted that reality, he’d mostly stayed for Bernardo. He was sweet and empathetic and attractive. And now he was gone.

Several weeks ago, Bernardo had burst into his room in tears. His father had been impressed by a new accounting firm that had convinced him to change all his investments around. They were losing everything and the firm has somehow vanished. Bernardo had to be out before the end of the week so his parents could avoid having to pay for the full semester. They may even lose their home. While Bernie lay there weeping into his shoulder, Sal had teared up too. His spine prickled; everything about it sounded far too familiar. Once again the fears of his family’s actions seeped into him. Bernardo’s entire life was ruined and he was terrified his family had caused it.

But with all his fears about his family confirmed and Bernardo no longer there, Salvatore just didn’t see the sense in staying. His bags were packed. He was going home for Christmas vacation and not coming back after. He’d done so well here—he’d kept up wonderful grades, made new friends, finally felt normal. But there was no point. It would just feel empty and lonely without Bernardo. He’d see him in every corner along with a reminder that it could very well be his family that ruined him.

“Mr. Giordano, the car to the station is ready.” Sal tore his eyes away from the window giving a soft smile to the student ambassador. His family had scoffed at the idea of Sal taking public transportation home, but he needed it. He needed the feeling of being surrounded by normal people for a bit longer before returning to his life alone. Being trapped in the back of an all black SUV by himself wasn’t going to help anything. He nodded to the man and grabbed his bags walking out to the car, his heart breaking with each step.

He tipped him and the driver both at the train station. The hustle and bustle of the station felt claustrophobic and welcome at the same time. There were so many people. So many people with so many lives, the kind he would never get to have. Soon enough he would be home, where he was alone in a house full of people who, despite their similar DNA, were as good as strangers to him. There would be no more Bernardo to confide in. There would be no more class outings to shops and restaurants. There would be no more teachers patting him on the back and saying how good he was doing. There would be only quiet silence from the guilt and fear that came with being a Roman Giordano. His stomach churned just at the idea of it.

He strode over to the departure board, one bag slung over his shoulder, the other trailing behind him. Train 1605, Prague, CR, Departure: 9:45. He took a deep breath, the tiniest smile tugging at his lips. His family had vacationed there once when he was a child. He’d loved it. The Charles Bridge covered in beautiful sculptures. The astronomical clock that become more fascinating to watch with each chime. A city square where people simply sat to enjoy their day. Dozens of little cafes with wonderful food. The best gelato shop he’d been to outside of Italy. It departed in half an hour, not long before the train to Rome was meant to leave. Plenty of time to get a ticket. He didn’t want to go home to Rome. Maybe he didn’t have to.

He went up to the counter and bought a ticket. His time away had helped him see the evil in his family and he couldn’t go back to that now, could he? He made his way over to the platform and sat with his bags. That’s when it happened. He felt it rolling in like the first sign of a fever, one little tell at a time. A shiver went up his spine. His shoulders tightened. One leg started bouncing. His thumbs moved ceaselessly, brushing against one another. His teeth pulled and ground at his lower lip. His breath shook, knowing there wasn’t anything he could do to stop it. The fears that had turn to whispers during his time away was coming back.

You can’t do this.

No. No this couldn’t be happening it couldn’t be.

You can’t just run off. And you act like they can’t find you. You’re under age and bought the ticket on Daddy’s MasterCard. Even if the station doesn’t hand over the information, Cassius’s men will dig it up in moments. Prague can’t be the final destination; you’ll have to keep running. You’ll have to live on cash alone and you’ve only got a couple hundred on you. And how much can a sixteen-year-old pull out of the bank without drawing attention? You won’t last on your own.

His leg bounced faster, his breathing becoming more ragged. He’d had a nice few months where his biggest anxiety was school work but now it was all crashing back down on him and harder than ever. He didn’t want this. He didn’t want the life his family led. How could he go back to that? He felt like his skin was getting too tight, like he’d tried slipping into skin he’d shed years ago. And what if the voice was right? What if he couldn’t manage?

If? If you can’t make it. There’s no way. Your family has always supported you. They gave you a lavish lifestyle. Even if you pulled money out of the bank, you couldn’t keep that up. And could you really give that up? And what about the girls? Rora and Lessia are still young enough that they need to be protected, they can be shielded from the family. And what about the family’s youngest? Only eight and already brave enough to admit she feels like a girl. She’s kind and sweet, has been since the first time you held her in your arms. They need you. You can’t just leave them.

You couldn’t do it. What’s your plan after you get on that train? Go to Prague and then what? You’re sixteen. Where will you live? What will you do? What kind of job will you get? Your family will fall to the complete darkness, give in to every sin without you there to keep an eye out. Besides if you do this, you’re just proving them all right. You’re just showing them you’re a coward with no backbone who doesn’t deserve the Giordano name. You run now and there’s no going back. They’ll never have you again. You’ve already lost Bernardo, do this and you’ll lose your entire family. You’ll have no one. You can’t live without anyone Salvatore. You can’t do it.

Train 1605 to Prague now boarding, set to depart in fifteen minutes.

Sal jumped at the announcement over the loudspeakers. His heart felt so constricted he was half afraid he was having a heart attack. There was an energy rolling through his body that made it feel like if he moved just wrong he was going to burst into flames. He could barely breathe and his lip was bleeding from chewing on it too much just within the last few minutes. It felt like if someone were to just tap him on the shoulder he’d crumble into a pile of ashes.

All aboard for train 1605 to Prague.

Sal stared at the train on the tracks in front of him and was on his feet before he could even think about it. The bag strung over his shoulder flopped against his side, the wheeled luggage turning sideways as he drug it behind him as he raced across the platforms. He couldn’t do this. He didn’t want to go home, but he knew he couldn’t run. He couldn’t live without his family. He needed them, he always had, no matter how much he wished it weren’t true. By the time he made it to the platform, his chest was heaving and tears were starting to trace down his cheeks. An older man stared at him as he wiped the salty liquid off his face.

Train 2117 to Rome is now boarding, set to depart in fifteen minutes.

Para 2:

Wednesday, December 21, 2016, 6:03 pm

“Laura Rosetti. She tried to hop off without paying up. We’re gonna need the money.” Stavros hadn’t bothered with an introduction, just walked into his room where he was studying and started laying out the order. “And we want to leave a mark to tell her and everyone else that that better not happen again. Lucky you, Cassius wants you on the job.”

“Then why isn’t he telling me?” Sal felt the tangle of nerves bunching up into a spring as he looked up at the dark-haired man’s eyes.

“I shouldn’t need to tell you that your father’s a very busy man. And so am I, so I’m not going to stand here and argue.” He slapped a file down on the desk right on top of Sal’s text book. “Everything you should need should be in there. Tech boys already did some digging.”

Sal flipped it open. Laura Rosetti. Thirty-seven. Female. Mother of two. His stomach twisted into a knot. “But—”

“There’s always a but with you, isn’t there Salvatore? Are you going to do the goddamned job or not?”

He stared up at his father’s right-hand-man for several moments longer than Stavros would have allowed anyone else to pause. He was breaking his own heart and he knew it. “Fine. But I’ve got an exam tomorrow, so don’t expect it done before Friday.”

Friday, December 23, 2016, 6:00 pm

“As you can see from the lobby below, this is an extremely exclusive apartment complex. Very good safety too. There’s a doorman at all times and someone at the front desk from 7 am to 9 pm. They have a private security company as well, twenty-four hour, will respond to any concern you may have. I’ve heard from other clients they’re extremely friendly and helpful, even though the crime rate here is virtually non-existent.”

The hackers had found apartment searches in Laura’s online history. She was looking to move away from Rome—a more than wise choice after stiffing his family. So easily enough, Sal had made a few phone calls, printed a few business cards, donned one of his suits and became a listing agent who was so very excited to help Laura find her new home in Capri. She didn’t suspect a thing and was happy to take the help of someone who knew their way around the unfamiliar city and the right people to talk to. The darkness in Sal’s mind whispered that she should have been suspicious when things came so easily.

“So this is a three bedroom, unfortunately no ocean view, but believe me, some things are worth the sacrifice. Besides, it’s still a short walk to see water and you’re much closer to good grocery stores and cafes, so if you ask me, this is a much better spot. You’d be paying triple or more if you were at the water’s edge. Another big perk, you’ve got a wonderful public school system here as well as two options for top-rate private schools if you’d rather go that way. One Catholic, one just your standard private prep school. You said you have two girls, right? Sasha and…?” he stopped, feigning forgetfulness.

“Maria. Eight and twelve.” She nodded, a soft smile on her face. It must have been a long time since someone was so helpful to the single-mother. She seemed sweet. It was a wonder how she had wound up entangled with his family.

“Maria, that’s right! Sasha and Maria. Two beautiful names for two beautiful girls. And,” he grinned at her, turning the key to the apartment and opening the door, “a beautiful new home for all three lovely ladies.”

“Oh my gosh, it’s gorgeous,” she said, stepping inside and looking around.

“Completely remodeled six months ago. Walls are freshly painted—if you don’t like the colors, we’ll talk to management see if we can get a contract that lets you paint them—brand new carpeting, updated bathroom, all new stainless steel appliances. We’re lucky it’s still available honestly.” As she stepped further in, he closed the door behind him, locking it quietly. He couldn’t risk her getting away. He had her exactly where he wanted her and she was going to stay that way. Locked right here where he could keep his eye on her. “If you’d like, it comes completely furnished, though that’s negotiable when we go in to sign the contract. I’ll let you go ahead and take a look around for yourself. Come back with any questions you have.”

Her eyes had been bright since the moment she walked in the building’s front doors. He had her hook-line-and-sinker. Sometimes they make this too easy, the darkness whispered to him. His eyes darted around the kitchen quickly taking stock of what they’d left him when he requested—and paid a good sum—for a fully furnished unit to view. He had backups, but it was always better to use someone else’s supplies. He was glad to see a full butcher’s block on the kitchen counter and a towel hanging from the stove. They would come in good use. But not until after he had the money in hand.

“So what did you think?”

“It’s perfect. I’d move in tomorrow if I could.”

“I’m glad to hear you like it. But like I said, this place is extremely exclusive and is going to go quick. To have a chance at it, you have to leave a reservation fee, that’s a grand and a half. And if you’re actually serious, it’s going to take a full application—that’s an application fee, a deposit, a full month’s rent in advance. And if you’re really serious, some extra, shall we say, elbow grease, goes a long way with these exclusive types. You want to show them you’re the kind of person who’s not afraid to spend money on what you want. So we’re looking at close to five grand here, maybe more if you’re looking to bump yourself up the list. But like I said on the phone, they want to know they’re getting the best of the best and unless you have a Gold Card, cash is the best option. So did you bring any with you?”

“Yes, yes, I’m very interested,” Laura reached into her purse and counted out a large stack of bills before nodding and handing them over.

“You won’t regret this Ms. Rosetti, it’s a wonderful new place.” He pocketed the cash in his breast pocket and grabbed a knife from the block. “Great for running away from whatever you’re avoiding.”

Fear flashed into her eyes, but Sal moved without a moment’s hesitation, one arm wrapping around her shoulder as he grabbed the towel from the oven and stuffed it into her mouth. “Being a listing agent? May have been a little bit of a tall tale. But all the great things about this place? All true. And we wouldn’t want the neighbors calling security, would we? Now,” he grabbed her hand, forcing it onto the counter and laying it flat, “money isn’t the only thing we want in return. We’ve got to send a message. I mean we can’t let people think it’s okay to make promises and back out on them. And before I forget, we know everything about you. And Sasha and Maria. Don’t worry, they’re safe for now and if you keep quiet, it’ll stay that way. And of course, stay in Rome. We want people to see our little pirate flag of sorts.”

He raised his hand, slamming the knife down with a blistering force. The bones in her thumb joint gave a sickening crack as the knife burst through it. Laura screamed into the rag and as soon as he released her hand, she brought to her torso, wrapping it in her shirt in a clearly desperate move to stop the bleeding. Sal forcefully pulled the towel out of her mouth with a scowl. “Get out of here before you get blood on the carpet.”

Laura fumbled with the door, trying to undo the lock before rushing out. The moment the door closed behind her, Sal was bent over the kitchen sink, vomiting into it. From the first phone call clear up until the moment he’d let her go, he’d been cool and calm. His demons had come out to play just like Cassius had asked for. But the second she was through the door, the real Sal broke back to the surface, literally sickened by what he had just done. The taste of bile clung to his mouth, a reminder of the grotesque actions he’d taken not just today, but in the past as well.

“Hail Mary, full of Grace, the lord is with thee,” the prayer came to his lips instantly. His hand shook so bad he could barely hold onto the rag. He grabbed the detached appendage and stuffed it down the garbage disposal, sobbing as the sound rang out through the kitchen. What have I done? My God, what did I just do? She has children. He felt the money weighing heavily in his pocket as though it were going to pull him down into an ocean to drown. He rinsed the blood from the knife and wiped it of fingerprints before placing it back in the butcher’s block. It took twice, if not three times, the swipes it should have to clear the blood from the counter. Though whether from the shaking hand or the welling tears that made it hard to see, it was impossible to tell. He tossed the cloth in the sick and pulled a box of matches from his jacket, lighting one and tossing it in the sink with the rag. As the towel turned to ash, so too did the the words of the in his mouth.

Why are you even bothering with prayer any more? You’re going to Hell. You’re going straight to the flames of damnation. No God would save you now. Look at the things you do. To a woman who didn’t deserve it. To a mother. How can you? It’s no wonder your family wants nothing to do with you. How could anyone love someone who does such things?

His mind swam among itself, half of him screaming to stop the accusations the other continuing to barrage him with the fact that he just wasn’t good enough. Not good enough for anyone or anything. He had to do something to calm these voices, to calm himself, and there was only one thing that was going to help him. His hand scrambled for his phone, dropping it the first few times as he tried to get the right screen pulled up, barely able to get the text sent off without errors.

WA downtown. 9. Usual room.

Saturday, December 24, 2016, 4:47 am

Salvatore trailed a soft touch up the middle of the other boy’s abdomen. His fingers brushed around his right peck, looping around it and completing the figure eight by circling the other. He had such a terrific body. Zaine shifted beside, a happy little sigh leaving him as he slept. It was the kind of noise Sal could become addicted to. It was the kind of noise he had become addicted to. The moment things had started spiraling, he’d run to Zay as quickly as he could get there. Only Zay could get him breathing and calm and together again.

They’d fucked, hard and fast, until he couldn’t breathe. At times they had slow, sensual sex, in fact the longer they were together, the more that was the kind of sex they had. But on nights like this when he was running from his demons, only a long, hard fuck could get his mind to shut up long enough to allow him to function. After they’d collapsed into bed, they’d lay there talking for hours. Any topic and every topic other than what he’d been doing this evening that had driven him here. After a while, the pauses between Zay’s words had grown longer, his eyes drooping closed. Sal had kissed him softly and told him to get some rest and he’d fallen asleep not long after.

Which left Sal alone in a darkened, nearly silent room in Waldorf Astoria’s Rome Cavalieri hotel. The voices were quieter than they would be without the boy he’d fallen for at his side, but they were still there. They’d been gone the whole time Zaine had been awake. It had been a welcomed reprieve after such a horrifying day. Time with Zaine always was. It slowed his mind, warmed his heart, made him not feel so alone in the world. Now that they had grown so close he wasn’t quite sure how he had managed all these years without him. Or how he’d do it again.

This can’t last forever. You know that. Romeo and Juliet wind up dead, remember? He was terrified he was going to lose Zay. Whether because of his family or his lover’s or Zaine walking away when he realized just how dark Sal’s mind could be. Would he still care for you if you told him what you did today? Does he care for you as it is? Is he really worth all this? You’re risking everything. Everything that you’ve sold your soul for is on the line for him. You could lose it all.

He gently cupped the side of Zaine’s face. If his family ever found out, he would be ostracized at the very least. In fact, that seemed like the most gentle thing that could happen to him. Reality would likely be much worse. He’d given up so much, given in to so many things just to keep his family. He couldn’t stand the idea of losing them. But then he couldn’t stand to lose Zaine either. It felt like a no-gain situation either way. He’d finally found someone his soul cried out for and they were just out of reach. Everything always was. Everything was always right there in front of him, but sealed away behind bullet-proof glass.

It wasn’t supposed to be this way. You weren’t supposed to fall for him. This is why you don’t fuck more than once.

It had started as a game. Sal already knew exactly who Zaine was when he made his move. It was supposed to be the ultimate fuck you to his family, even if he’d never had any intentions of telling them about it. He would use every ounce of conning skill that had been born and bred into him to lure the sweet Lefevre boy into his bed. And that was it. Use all his “natural talents” so his mother called them to literally get in bed with the enemy. And then do nothing with it. Pry no secrets from him. Plant no bombs—physical or mental. Break no hearts. Get so close to the enemy it would make the rest of his family drool. And then do nothing. No, he never planned to tell his family about his dastardly little plan, but oh would the tiny little revenge feel good to him.

But as Sal had lay there afterwards recovering, Zay had started speaking. At first, he’d wondered if he were the one getting played, but there was such earnestness to Zaine’s tone. Besides, no one could know how he really felt. He’d never admitted it out loud. And yet here was this beautiful boy giving voice to all his thoughts. Zay was the first person to pry open his heart since Bernardo and even with Bernie he hadn’t been able to be so candid. How could he not start developing feelings for him? Sal had set out to play a game but in the end, he was the fate’s pawn instead.

Though Zaine brought peace with him, he brought just as much fear. Fear of these things he was feeling. Fear of his family finding out. Fear of them turning their backs on him. Fear of losing Zay. Fear of Zaine being hurt because of their tryst. Fear that this is his one chance at happiness and it may not play out. Fear that Zay would turn away if he knew just how deep the fear and darkness ran inside him. Fear that he could never be the despicable son his parents want nor have a soul pure enough for Zay, always stuck in between, never close enough to one to give up the other, but risking them both by trying to balance them. The voices and the demons screamed a million reasons for him to go, but his heart only ever whispered one word. Stay.

He sighed and shook Zaine lightly. Clearly he wasn’t going to get any sleep. And it was best to leave when the lobby would be empty.

“Hmmm?” Zay mumbled, eyes only half opening to look up at him.

“I’m gonna go,” he said softly.

“You should stay,” the boy countered, his eyes opening now, the deep brown of his irises meeting Sal’s pale green.

“You know one of us has to be gone before morning. And you’re enjoying the bed way more than I am.” He ran his hand over Zaine’s head. “Leave the key, same as always. No need for a proper check out, I’ve already paid.”

“Do you think we’ll ever just get to just wake up to each other in the morning?”

“Dunno.” I hope. He sighed again and got out of bed. “I’ll catch you around. You’ve got the number. And remember, no more names in the texts.”

The room fell silent until he got to the doorway and then Zaine whispered behind him, “Sal?”

“Yeah?”

“Good night.”

Sal turned back, smiling softly at the figure in the darkness. “Good night Zay. Sleep well.”

EXTRAS

Here’s a Pinterest board I’ve made for Sal.

The below are a number of headcanons I have for Sal:

Sex isn’t the only thing that stops the constant whispers of anxiety—it’s just the only one that he’s willing to admit to himself. You see, when he’s on a job, he’s an entirely different person. He flips some switch within himself and the anxious, good-hearted boy goes away, replaced by the twisted, methodical, and effective son his parents always wanted. It’s another way he tries to write off the horrible things he does when working for his parents—it’s not him, it’s like some entirely different person. His empathy becomes an ability to twist people’s desires. His anxiety becomes a chemical high to drive forward his actions. His fear of not being enough becomes a knife to remind others of their same fear. The little voices just shut off until the job is done and the job is done right. But then of course, as soon as it’s over, the voices are back, screaming louder than ever because he’s not willing to stay that person forever.

Though Sal has never felt he fit in with his family, there is one person who shares his blood that he’s always felt a tether to. The problem is, no one in his family has considered Santiago one of their own for years. He sees so much of himself in his uncle—someone with a good heart who wants to leave it all behind and raise a family away from Cassius’s influence. And while it’s nice knowing there’s someone like him out there, it’s also terrifying. Sure, Santiago has a job outside the family, but he lost his first wife for his kindness. Even two of his own children want little to do with him. He sees himself in his uncle. But he’s not willing to accept that his uncle’s fate is his own. In walking away, Santiago lost his family and just the idea of that horrifies Sal.

His family has always claimed they’re gods among men, but Sal has never believed that. The existence of an actual God though, it’s a hope for Salvatore. He doesn’t know exactly that he believes God exists, but he hopes so. There has to be someone, some higher power, that will ultimately make things right and good, even if not in this life. He attends both Sunday and Wednesday masses religiously (no pun intended) and takes confession at least as frequently. He’s smart enough to keep the confessions vague at best. When he first started—after he returned home following Bernardo’s departure from boarding school—he hoped just speaking his sins out loud would help calm the anxiety, the way it had with his first flame. It hasn’t thus far, but that doesn’t keep him from going back time and again.

If you’re ever in need of chap stick, the very first person you should ask is Salvatore. They say biting at your lips is a sure sign of anxiety. For Sal at least, that holds true, but who wants to make out with a guy with chapped lips? He does his best to take care of his peeling lips by constantly having chap stick with him at all times. Wallet, nearly every pair of pants, three in various places in his car, he’s absolutely always got some on him.

Sal gives everyone nicknames. And once he’s assigned you one, you might as well change your birth certificate when it comes to Salvatore. Franco is Frank (Frankie if he feels like pissing him off); Giuliana is Guils (pronounced Jewels of course); Bella is Bells; Samaira is Sammi; Zaine is Zay. The list is endless and he doesn’t much care if you like it or not.

In a way, Sal actually kind of likes when his family dislikes the nicknames he gives them. Sal is a good guy with a good heart, he really is. But he can’t always keep that Giordano blood completely under wraps. In truth, he’s practically a king in microaggressions—tiny little actions that aren’t enough to raise eyebrows but enough to make him feel like he’s protesting the things his family does. Calling family members and loyalists by nicknames he knows they hate, his relationship with Zaine even if it’s secret, being blatant and obvious with his sexuality, studying the very law his family constantly breaks. It’s never anything bad, almost always tiny details, but it’s his own little way of rebelling.

Even before puberty, Sal was a flirt. He’s always known he likes guys and has been trained from a young age to take what he wants and the one place he lives out that ideology is with his lovers. He likes slipping on an easy smile, using soft touches to make heart races. It feels good and he loves it. He’ll flirt with any guy, no matter what. He may not want to bed Jae-Seung again, but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t return the flirtation sometimes. He’s made more than a few passes at the Lefevre man Zaine says works in technology for them (even if they’ve all been immediately shot down). And how could he not flirt with Rohan? He’s a formal model for god’s sake. Yes, he’s becoming more and more monogamous with Zaine, but he still enjoys the innocence of flirtation. Besides it makes it easier to keep Zay under wraps.

One thing few people know about Sal is that he’s quite good at art. Painting, sketches, oils, put any artistic tool into his hand and he’ll work magic with it. He first found his love for it at boarding school. It’s a way for him to stay silent but still express himself. Most of his works are dark (or as his art teacher liked to say “troubling”). Whenever asked what they were about by his parents he would slip on a half-confident smile and say, “It’s about how much better we are than the rest of the world. How they fear us and the power we hold over them.” The actual truth though is that most of his art is about the demons residing in his own head. They aren’t depictions of the power his family has over Rome; it’s the power his anxieties have over him.

Living in the family he does and keeping so quiet about what goes on in his head, Salvatore has never really understood his mental health. He’s never gotten to speak with a therapist and the only people he’s ever gotten to talk to at all is Bernardo and Zaine. He’s somewhat ‘named’ the emotions he has rather than having a deeper understanding of it. He calls his anxieties and the doubts that plague him “the voices” and the darkened side of him that comes out on a Giordano job “the demons” or “the darkness.” Though it’s not much, it helps him better grasp the conflicting emotions in his mind and explain them—if only ever to himself.

[its-deputy-caleb]

Hi do you think you do the 4 lords reaction to finding out their GN s/o has a shadow demon that goes wherever they go and some time find the 2 of them playing board games

Hiii!! okay important note here! i decided to go a little off topic (sorry) for the purpose of a part 2 where the lord’s s/o will be an angel!! of course still gender neutral and there will be a shadow demon but the s/o will be a demon that hasn’t fully formed yet!

i’ve been really uninspired lately so this probably isn’t my best! i apologise :((

Devil or Angel? Pt.1

General HC’s

It was strange how quickly your life had changed. One morning you were just a normal villager in some godforsaken town in the middle of nowhere Romania and the next day you woke up from the cold dirty ground with a pair of huge dark wings and sharp nails.

You had been exploring some of the woodlands surrounding the village, looking for a water source which was running low when a dark figure came barrelling towards you. It felt like hours, when really it was only a few seconds of sharp searing pain. Maybe it was a bad idea to leave the village alone.

You didn’t die however, or maybe you did? You weren’t quite sure what was happening to your body. All you knew was it must have been something supernatural to make the huge black wings appear.

“Looks like you finally woke up! Do you know how fucking boring it is just waiting for you to wake up?”

You screamed in terror at the large demonic creature floating above you. It was surrounded by a cloud of black mist with red eyes that pierced through its silhouette. It had a large wicked smile aligned with sharp teeth and a set of wings that matched your own.

Behind those eyes was something much more human however, in fact it looked rather bored.

“Who, or what are you?! And mind that language!”

The creature only laughed at you, amused by the whole situation which bothered you beyond compare.

“Well I’m a demon, if I didn’t swear you’d probably think me an angel with these playful charms I posses! And to be more specific I’m your demon, it seems you fell prey to one of the other demons condemned to this world it’s quite the tragedy really.”

You were shocked at just how easily this creature, this demon talked to you. As if it was a completely normal morning and life in the village had not changed at all.

“Oh don’t act so shocked, you medieval villagers have been worshiping my kind for a lot longer than that Mother Miranda. You’re one of us now!”

Surprisingly over time the creature, who’d you’d nicknamed “red” for their glowing eyes, was slowly growing on you. You might even call them a friend.

Sure Red was cocky as all hell and didn’t hesitate to cause trouble amongst the village but they became very protective over you and showed you the ropes on life as a demon.

Life can get kinda boring when you’re practically immortal and so you and red pass the time playing old Romanian board games and solitaire. When village life got really boring you even stooped so low to play go fish together.

A lot of the time you cause mischief in and around the village while Red was practically the devil on your shoulder, egging you on to stir the pot. The lycans were particularly enjoyable to taunt.

Regardless of everything, you couldn’t see yourself without Red and to lose them would crush you. There had been one too many nights when you’d chat about everything and nothing until you fell asleep curled up underneath your wings.

That was when you felt a protective wing curl around you, one that wasn’t your own.

“Always gotta fall asleep on me don’t you, huh? Don’t worry, I’ll have you partying all night before you know it kiddo.”

Alcina Dimitrescu

It started out as a stupid dare when Red dared you to sneak into Castle Dimitrescu and steal the Lady’s lipstick after hearing the village gossip that it was expensive.

You did not expect however to get caught in the hallway, starting straight up into the eyes of Alcina Dimitrescu, a stuttering and blushing mess. It was something that Red would tease you for until eternity ended.

After winning her favour, both you and Red were invited to stay in the Castle with Alcina and her daughters. She thought you were much better company than her brother and her affluent but gothic lifestyle totally appealed to you.

As it turns out you and Alcina had a lot more in common, both being creatures of a supernatural nature. You enjoyed the lazy afternoons curled up on the couch, a glass of maidens blood in your hand as she gentle stroked the back of her hand against your wings.

You had the finest outfits that matched your black wings perfectly and everything was tailor made so you were comfortable.

Red taught you how to fly so you were able to use your wings to be at eye level with Alcina which was perfect for hugs and kisses.

It turns out that Red is a great babysitter for the girls and keeps them entertained with hunting maidens and chasing them around the Castle while you and Alcina can spend some time together.

Donna Beneveinto

At first, Donna is truly scared of you and Red much like how you were in the beginning. But eventually, with the help of Angie she saw that you were not going to harm her.

You loved to spend time with Donna and watch her make her dolls or sew her dresses. Sometimes Red will come back with Angie from a day of causing trouble to find you reading to her another encyclopaedia of plants. Her head is resting on your chest and your wings are wrapped around her protectively while you read.

Your favourite thing to do together is to take Donna into your arms and fly to the top of the mountain where the waterfall begins and watch the sunset together. She’ll always have a deathly grip on your hand the whole time even though you’ve reassured her that you’d never drop her.

One time when you leaned in and gave her a kiss, a rather loud noise was heard from the corner and interrupted you.

“EWWW you guys are too cute!! All that lovey-dovey stuff makes me sick!”

Red is standing to the side with Angie on their shoulder who is sitting there making her own dramatic faces. One of Angie’s wooden hands covers Red’s eyes while the other is held on her forehead as if the kiss was enough to kill her.

Besides from their comment both Angie and Red act like your wing man for your relationship with Donna. They absolutely love you two together and have set up many dates for the two of you.

Salvatore Moreau

You meet Salvatore Moreau one day when you’re at the reservoir playing hide and seek in the near by mines with Red.

As it’s your turn to hide you end up ducking between some planks to find a tv set up and a small couch. Sitting in the middle of it happens to be someone you now know as Sal.

He thought you were going to kill him at first, hiding his face in his hands but very slowly after some months he saw that you weren’t a threat.

Over this time trying to convince Sal that you weren’t going to hurt him and trying to spend more time with him, Red took the opportunity to tease you for your crush.

“I think someone’s in got a little crush hmm??”

Eventually you become very close with Sal and the two of you will playfully chase each other at the reservoir. Sal will swim just below the surface while you fly just above it and your fingers brush together just where the water meets the air.

One time when you were chasing Red around the rooftops of the old village, you slipped and fell into the water, something that your large feathery wings did not enjoy and Red had to pull you out.

You ended up bundled on the couch with Sal, a bunch of blankets around you as your wings dried out. It took forever and you ended up a giant bundle of fluffy feathers but Sal thought you looked adorable.

Karl Heisenberg

Karl caught you and Red taunting the lycans when he went to check on them at their den one day. At the site of you two he raised an eyebrow and proceeded to light a cigar.

“I think you two may be lost, don’t you know it’s dangerous out here?”

You can hear the sarcasm in his voice and you spread your wings out to be intimidating, Red’s black mist behind you adding to it.

“Indeed it is very dangerous out here, I’d hate for you to get hurt.”

It was then when the three of you burst into a fit of laughter knowing that you were the strongest creatures in these woods and nothing could really hurt either of you.

Both you and Karl had a mischievous side and spent a lot of time causing trouble for his sister in her Castle.

It was fun to spend time with Karl and you both grew rather close. He even trusted you enough to let you help him on some of his plans and designs.

Red was particularly fond of the idea of killing Mother Miranda.

“Ooh when she’s gone can I have my picture put back up?! Pretty please!”

Karl designed his soldats with a red glowing chest plate that reminded him of your red glowing eyes which now matched Red’s.

While Karl will deny it forever, he’s completely in awe of you and finds you absolutely breathtaking. He can’t get over how soft your wings are and always cuddles up to you complaining that it’s cold even though it’s sweltering hot in the factory.

One day Karl took you by surprise and kissed you gently but with a degree of confidence which took him months to find. You melted into him and wrapped your arms around him securely, completely forgetting Red who’s hovering in the room.

“Guys I hate to break it to you but I’m kinda third wheeling here…”

Needless to say, Red third wheeled a lot and ended up befriend Sturm as an alternative to watching you guys make out.