#also his perfect bone structure and pierced ears…

[jasminedtookes]

Jeongin ˙✧˖°📸⋆｡˚ Stray Kids 'Step Out' 2025

[nellielsss]

｡･ﾟﾟ･ ᴛʜᴇ ʙᴏʏ ɪꜱ ᴍɪɴᴇ!

╰┈➤ I can't wait to try him... ✮✮✮

Summary: Just a little songfic inspired by The Boy is Mine by Ariana Grande. I figured it was about time that the tables were turned & the reader got to make a mess! However will these boys react? Includes: Toji Fushiguro, Satoru Gojo, Kento Nanami x Yandere!reader CW: murder, weapons, derogatory/degrading language (reader is severely flawed), allusions to sex

☆○o 𝙏𝙤𝙟𝙞 𝙁𝙪𝙨𝙝𝙞𝙜𝙪𝙧𝙤 ༶•┈┈⛧┈♛

╰┈➤ It's no secret that your man was a man of charm and persuasion. Although his demeanor was considerably unapproachable and intimidating, he still knew his way around a conversation (he had to if he wanted to haggle the local vendors). It's also no secret that he was an adonis. A wide, tapered back that extended outwards to a pair of broad shoulders, biceps bigger than your head, and a face that could make Narcissus himself do a double-take, he was practically walking sex! Not to mention those 9 inches he was packing!

It's not like it was his fault that his body was so built; those muscles were a result of his years of working out! If he wanted to make as much money from his missions as possible, he'd need his strength to be at its peak. It also wasn't his fault that god blessed him with a perfect face with perfect skin (save for the scar) & a perfect bone structure.

If two + two = four, each two standing for the aforementioned attributes, then four meant that there was a lot of unwanted attention thrown his way. Men, women, non-binary folk and everyone in between threw a couple of flirty glances and compliments his way every now and then. It seemed like he raised the pheromones of the places he was in: bars, the grocery store; hell, even on the street there would be a couple of people trying to pick him up!

"Baby, don't even pay 'em a penny of your time," he muttered into your ear after a girl tried to get his number at a bar. "They don't compare to you; not even a little. Fuck would I do without this ass, eh?" he asked with a grin, making you smile a little. "Atta girl." If he wasn't so reserved and committed to his gal, you, then he would've eaten that shit up. But he made a vow to be more responsible and stay loyal to you, and he'd kill himself before he broke that vow. He even bought you a promise ring, for fuck's sake (he also had an engagement ring in mind for when the time was right)! So, to any sane person, things should've been peachy keen...

... if you were sane, that is.

Toji knew all about your mental state. He knew that you had a few issues, but he didn't care; he wasn't a fucking hypocrite for crying out loud. He had a few screws loose himself, so he didn't bat an eye when you told him about how many you had loose. The two of you made an excellent couple anyways, and he wasn't stupid enough to throw away a good thing. So, he brushed over it and decided to move on with life.

If only he knew how many friends he'd lose along the way.

The most recent "departure" was the one friend he'd made in high school (before he was forced to drop out by his family). One of the only female friends he'd made during his life, she was the tomboy-type who had no trouble making friends with guys. She was a total delinquent; she even rocked the long skirt and the mask back in high school, and she also dropped out of high school after he did for setting fires behind the school. Leather jackets, piercings, the whole nine yards. She was like a walking Mötley Crüe song.

But even walking rock-and-roll songs could catch feelings. Unluckily for her, it was high time that she kicked the bucket and made way for you. The only person who deserved Toji's attention was you. You were the one who kept him warm every night; you were the one who took his dick like no other; you were the one with the promise ring on your finger, not that bitch.

Killing her was quite simple. Although she was tough as nails, you were the one who actually had experience with killing people. All you had to do was sneak into her place at night and stab her. Then, you'd write a flimsy little note and make it seem like she fled the country; it was quite plausible for a chick like her.

┆ . "Hello? Who's there?" the chick's voice asked when she heard a few thumps in the other room. She was in the kitchen drinking a beer and listening to the radio (could she not afford a TV? how sad). She had a plate of Korean fried chicken on the counter as well, and the only light illuminating the area was the flimsy lightbulb above her head.

Her head immediately snapped in the direction of the noise she'd heard, and she grabbed a switchblade from the linoleum countertop. She took a few steps forward, the sound of the radio being drowned out by her heartbeat.

Another noise from the opposite direction, this time to her left. "Alright, who the fuck's fuckin' with me? I swear, Toji, if that's you-"

"Don't even say his fucking name, whore." She felt something grab her neck from behind, effectively choking her. The hand then pressed a nerve that stopped her from moving, rendering her frozen in place. She recognized that voice, but she couldn't believe it; was that girl seriously in her home...? She turned her eyes to the best of her ability, trying to catch a glimpse to confirm her suspicions. Her eyes widened when she realized who it was, being met by Toji's girlfriend's pretty face which was now marred by a look of sheer venom and malice.

"P-please, can't we talk this out?-"

"It's too late to beg. You shouldn't have come back into his life; you shouldn't have even met him to begin with." The last thing she saw before she felt something stab her was a sick, twisted grin on her face, widening as the knife sunk further and further into her tattooed skin.

The knife left her side and then sunk back into her neck. A snap was the last thing she heard before her eyes went shut.

It definitely wasn't the last thing you heard, though; the knife sunk back into her neck again, then again, and again, and again, again, again, again, again, all the way until her neck practically ripped in two.

The plan to make a smooth escape was a little behind schedule considering all the blood splatters that needed cleaning on the linoleum flooring, but it was nothing a little bleach couldn't fix.

"Toji did tell me I looked good in red once," you sighed, dragging some blood down your face with a lovesick grin as the finishing touch.

You could rival Elizabeth Bathory with the amount of blood that was on you and the black sweater you chose to wear for the killing. Ah, it's not like that sweater was anything too important or sentimental to you; you always made sure not to wear anything nice when murdering a target of yours.

"Toji, Toji, Toji Toji Tojiiiii," you hummed to yourself, taking your gloves off and throwing them aside. You decided to put on a new pair of disposable gloves in order to clean the crime scene, considering how soaked the others were with the amount of blood that was in them. Making the mess an even bigger mess wasn't on your agenda for the night.

"The boy is mine... I can't wait to try him... let's get intertwined... the stars they've aligned," you hummed to yourself, "the boy... is... mine!"

Just as you'd started to get into the swing of things and dance around the kitchen of your victim, cleaning up the mess in your own sick & twisted way, that little fantasy of yours was broken by the sound of the door opening. Your head snapped in the direction of the sound, your blood running cold at the thought of being caught in such a predicament. You reached out to grab a nearby knife, already making a plan in your head. You'd killed a few other people who walked in on your murders, so it really wasn't anything new to you.

But those people weren't your boyfriend.

"Yoohoo, anybody home?" He asked in that deliciously deep & sarcastic voice of his. "I thought I oughta bring you that shirt you asked for. Y'know, the ACDC one?-"

When he turned his head to the side and saw you, his girlfriend, cleaning up a spilled pool of blood that belonged to his friend, he also froze. The two of you stared at one another, each completely bewildered by the other. Here was his sweet, amazing, practically angelic girlfriend all covered in blood & standing over his now dead friend's body. And at the same time, here was your boyfriend standing in the doorway, looking at you as you cleaned up a particularly messy crime scene.

Oh, right, your boyfriend just walked in on you in the middle of your crime scene.

He was a witness to his friend's murder, as well as your own crimes.

"No... it's- it's..." you stuttered, tears welling up as you backed away from the dead body as if that'd make it any better for you.

One step, two steps, three steps of your boyfriend's boots echoed throughout the kitchen as he walked closer to you.

"D-Don't look at me, don't... don't look at me, Toji! You can't see me like this! I'm a monster-" as your eyes were closed out of fear and shame, you felt two fingers grip your chin surprisingly gently. You opened your eyes slowly, your boyfriend forcing you to look at him.

"Look at me, sweetheart," he murmured with a soothing undercurrent of love. "Geez, look at you... you're all covered in this sticky, disgusting blood. That's no look for a pretty girl like you, is it?"

You stayed silent, and he cocked his head to the side, almost amused by how shy you were being in this scenario. "Fine. If you wanna stay silent, then that's fine with me. But do you really think you oughta be embarrassed right now? Like I'd judge ya for anything... Do you remember when we first met, and I told you that I'd never, ever judge you in any circumstances? I'm a man who stays true to my word, (Y/N). Even if you were covered in the blood of four different people, my love for you's never gonna waver."

You looked at him with more confusion than anything. Was he being serious right now? Weren't you a monster for killing one of his friends? "I'm confused..." you finally started, "are you not... disgusted with me? Aren't I a monster? I just- I just killed one of your friends!" you exclaimed.

Toji's eyebrows merely raised in amusement. "I'm a man who stays true to my word, (Y/N)," he said once more. "I ain't goin' back on it, baby. Besides, it's not like I was friends with anyone other than Shiu to begin with--and he's my manager! She was pissin' me off anyway. She had the audacity to challenge me to a drinking contest and then decided to puke all over the new pants you bought me."

Your eye twitched when he brought up that knowledge.

"Doesn't she know that alcohol doesn't affect a big guy like me?" he asked rhetorically, shaking his head out of amusement. "You did me a favor getting her off my back."

"So, you're really okay with what I did?" you asked once more. Toji shook his head and cupped your cheek gently with his calloused fingers.

"Do I gotta repeat myself thrice?"

"N-No, you don't gotta..." you trailed off.

"Good." He stood up, offering you a hand to help you up as well. "Y'know, I really didn't expect you to be such a little psychopath. I mean, you're all cute n' shit with your little mini skirts and your heels that I still don't know how you walk in. If I'd known you looked so hot covered in other people's blood, I would've taken you along with me on my missions."

You blushed profusely at all his little words and praises, and he cooed (again, out of amusement). "Look at you, all shy over a couple compliments thrown your way. You really are just a sweet thing underneath all that blood, aren't you?"

"Stop it, stop it!" You whined, swatting his hand away when he pinched your cheek.

In response, he put his hands up and chuckled again. "Whatever my girl wants, my girl gets. Now, would you like some help with cleaning this mess up, or would you rather I just bend you over this counter n' eat you out?"

You looked at him again, yet again out of confusion and bewilderment. "You wanna have sex with me... when I'm covered in blood, and in my own crime scene?" You asked, shrinking away from his touch.

"'Course I do; you look fuckin' sexy baby. Shit gets my dick hard seeing you so protective over me... I oughta reward you for havin' my back, anyway."

He reached out again, only for you to shrink away even further from his touch, making him click his tongue and sigh. "I think I'll pass," you muttered, throwing him a side-eye as well.

"The fuck are you side-eyeing me for? You're the one who killed a girl."

*°:⋆ₓₒ 𝙎𝙖𝙩𝙤𝙧𝙪 𝙂𝙤𝙟𝙤 ˱ 𓈒 𓈊 ┈ 𓈒 ˲

╰┈➤ Satoru Gojo was nothing short of a dreamboat, and you knew what you were getting into when you said "yes" to the first date. From the moment he picked you up wearing a crisp light blue button-up, slacks, and his silver-blue porsche, you knew he was gonna be one silver-tongued prince charming.

Not only was he sweet on the first date, but he was also sweet on the second, third, fourth--hell, even on your second anniversary, when he asked you to move in with him in his penthouse located in the heart of Ginza, you swore your knees buckled from underneath you and not because of the blue gown that he'd bought you after seeing it on your computer screen all those nights ago.

He was like a sweet saccharine fantasy, a delicious daydream which you never wanted to wake up from. His soft, snow-white hair; his incredibly vibrant blue eyes which seemed to have specks of every color in the galaxy and then some with flecks of purple, cerulean, indigo, and even a milky way here and there; his towering stature and lean muscles--god, you could go on and on about how dreamy he was! And the sex? Good god, he was a man who knew how to put it down.

The sweet little nicknames he had for you only furthered your infatuation for him: "hey there, sweet cheeks," was one rather childish one that he reserved for you.

"Lookin' good, princess," was probably the most fitting one that he had for you. It was his way of reminding you of how good he'd always treat you, how he'd always put you first above all else. After all, he used that name when he bought you a diamond tennis bracelet for your half-birthday.

While most people would've been worried that he was love-bombing you, you knew deep down that you had absolutely nothing to worry about!

Even his best friend, Suguru Geto, said as such at one of the many parties he threw.

After one of Satoru's weird little groupies made a snide remark about how he gave that treatment to anyone who would open their legs for him, he pulled you aside with one tattooed hand (he has tats IMO) and helped you lighten your mood. "Don't even listen to that chick, (Y/N), you have absolutely nothing to worry about. I haven't seen him look at anyone like that since, well, ever if I'm being honest--and I've known the man since grade school," the sorcerer said.

"You really think so?" You asked, a light smile gracing your features.

"I've been his best friend since we've both become sorcerers, (Y/N). I've seen him go through everything, even that phase when he decided to wear his hair like a Backstreet Boy for a day." now that was a joke that really brought that light back to your face.

"Okay, okay, I don't think I need that image in my head," you replied, waving your hands in front of you. He simply smiled at you and patted your shoulder.

"Trust me, you don't. Now go find your boyfriend before he throws a fit; you know how he gets."

You had nothing to worry about when it came to your relationship--even his vigilant best friend thought so. But that lack of worry only extended to your boyfriend, not the countless groupies that threw themselves at him.

How many had you killed by now? 6? 7? Eh, you lost count by the time it reached double digits.

┆ . At one of his many parties that he threw on his yacht in the harbor, yet another groupie decided to take a chance on the already-taken sorcerer/heir of the Gojo clan, none other than your boyfriend of 3 and a half years, Satoru. By then, you'd disregarded who any of the groupies were, only knowing them by hair color (if they dyed it some stupid color like pink or purple) or did something obscene to your boyfriend.

But that night at his summer party, a purple-haired groupie took it way too far: when you were returning from the bar with Satoru's favorite drink in hand, you saw her accidentally "trip" and fall into your boyfriend's lap. The hand holding your drink-of-choice was gripping your glass so tightly that it shattered in your hand, but the blaring music was loud enough to hide it.

"Whoopsie!" the girl said with fake-sincerity, giggling as she looked at her friends who obviously put her up to this shit.

Satoru, being the amazing boyfriend he was, pushed the girl off of his lap and looked rather annoyed at what she'd done: "hands off the merchandise! This seat's already taken."

The girl threw her hands up and gave him a fake apology, obviously not serious about it: "sorryyy, I tripped on my heels! You know how these things are."

But your brain didn't register it; it merely registered the sounds of the blood rushing through your body and your heartbeat's thumping. Your breathing quickened, and everything in your world was reduced to that stupid bitch and her stupid giggles and her stupid hair color.

Who the fuck does she think she is? She's not the one who's already been living with Satoru for over a year now. Her fake nails, her fake hair--she probably doesn't even want Satoru and instead wants some notoriety for being his groupie.

She shouldn't get to live; stupid whores like her shouldn't be alive to begin with.

She needs to know her place. I wonder how fast I can throw this drink at her head? Maybe it'll kill her if I'm hard enough-

"Yo, (Y/N)!" Satoru's voice said once he saw you a few feet away. "C'mere princess; I got this seat nice and ready for ya!" he said with a grin, patting his lap. You happily obliged, bounding over like a little puppy who was called by their owner for a tasty treat.

"Isn't she the cutest thing?" Shoko Ieiri asked her friend who nodded in agreement.

"Sato, baby, here's the drink you asked for," you said, your voice dripping with adoration like the sweetest ambrosia from the Garden of Eden. "Mine... spilled, sadly, but I can just get another one."

Out of the corner of your eye, you spotted that stupid whore trotting off down a hallway, headed to a bathroom by herself. An idea formed inside of your head, and your eyes narrowed and zeroed in on her fake purple hair.

"(Y/N), baby, look at me! This is my party!" Satoru protested, suddenly bringing your attention back to him with a cute little pout on his face.

"You don't mind if I go and use the ladies room? I'll be back before you know it," you asked with the subtlest croon you could muster up without bordering on corny.

"But, baby-"

"It's an emergency. You know how us girls get," you said with a smile, making Satoru relent reluctantly.

"Fine, fine... go on ahead, but don't get too distracted on your way there. Your boyfriend wants some attention," he muttered, placing a small kiss on your neck before letting you go. You gave him a small kiss on the forehead and carded through his snow-like hair, getting right up off his lap and going in the same direction as that groupie.

Your Christian Dior heels tapped on the hardwood floors of the yacht, taking you down one of the hallways that seemed to go on for forever. Coincidentally, this was also the same hallway that led to your spare room; the one you used whenever you were mad at Satoru for whatever reason and felt like sleeping in another bed. You made sure to step as quietly as possible so as to not alert the girl of your presence; however, she made hers known by the sound of her shrill laughter coming from the bathroom.

"The boy is mine... I can't wait to try him," she sang, clearly oblivious of the fear and rage coursing through your body. Was she seriously singing that fucking song right now, acting as if Satoru wasn't in a committed relationship?? Oh, she needed to be reminded of her place.

Like a soundless sabertooth, you stalked up to the door and opened it, acting as though you were merely freshening up in the bathroom. You took your lip gloss out of the bag that your boyfriend bought you on one of your many outings, swiping it over your lips.

"Oh, you're Satoru's girlfriend, right?" the chick asked once she recognized you. She pointed an acrylic at you, drawing your attention. "Hey, don't ignore me! It's not like you're anything special anyway."

"What do you mean?" you asked, deciding to provoke the beast yourself.

"Satoru swipes through relationships like it's nobody's business!"

"Groupies don't count as relationships."

"Just you wait. He's gonna abandon you for someone way hotter and way less annoying than you. I mean, I don't even know what the fuck he sees in you!" she exclaimed. "You're a 3 at best."

The chick continued to ramble on and on about how Satoru could do way better than you, and it was high time that she shut the fuck up already.

You grabbed the martini glass she was holding, wrenching it easily out of her hands, and you broke it on the marble countertop. You then took the sharp, pointy end and drew a deep, jagged cut on her neck with it, the tendons practically ripping in half with the intensity of your cut. She grabbed her neck and put two hands over the gash, gasping and breathing for air, only to have her hands cut by the glass. You stabbed her over and over again, screaming at her to "SHUT UP!" and "DIE ALREADY!!" You pushed her onto the ground and mounted her hips, driving the broken glass further in until her head disconnected from her body.

By the time you were finished with her dead body, she was practically unrecognizable. One of her eyes was open (the other was stabbed out), her head was severed, and the tendons in her neck were exposed. You didn't mean to get so carried away, but you let it happen anyway.

With a swipe to the eyebrow, you let out a "whew," only to realize that you had this huge mess to clean up. It's not every day that you manage to sever a head, after all.

"Nothing a little bleach can't deal with."

You took out the trusty bottle of bleach that you hid underneath the counter (in case of emergencies) and started unscrewing the cap. Just as you did that, though, you heard Satoru's whiny voice from behind the door calling out for you. "(Y/N)! (Y/N)! Come out, come out, wherever you are!"

Normally, you would've entertained him, but right now you were standing over a dead body, your party dress covered in blood with a bottle of bleach in one of your hands and a broken glass in the other. If he were to see you right now, everything you've worked for would've been for nothing. All those dead bodies thrown into dumpsters, all those weapons that you kept hidden--it would've amounted to absolutely nothing! Your perfect life with your perfect boyfriend and your perfect friends would all go to shit, all because you couldn't control yourself around a fucking groupie with too many bad dyejobs for her own good.

"(Y/N), I'm coming in!" he said once more. He managed to yank the door open with his bare hands, and he couldn't have prepared himself for the sight in front of him.

There you were, his pretty little princess, standing over the dead body of one of his partygoers. His six eyes took in everything almost immediately: he noted the bottle of bleach, the sheer amount of blood that was on you, and just how mangled that corpse was. You looked down at the floor and you shut your eyes as tight as you possibly could, desperately hoping that it wasn't him, that it wasn't your amazing boyfriend who did nothing wrong.

"I-I'm sorry, I made a mess," you mumbled, tears flowing down your face and mixing with the metallic blood. He stayed longer than you thought was necessary, and you just braced for the inevitable look of disgust followed by the demand that you leave.

His footsteps echoed on the marble flooring and he crouched down to your level, taking his glasses off and looking at you.

"Just- I'll just get out of your hair after I clean this up-"

"Don't bother, princess. I'll just have one of my maids clean it up. A spoiled little thing like you shouldn't have to inhale all the bleach smell," he said with a chuckle. "My princess shouldn't even have to lift a finger in the first place."

You stopped looking at the floor, your head craning up slowly and looking at your boyfriend out of sheer confusion. "I don't- I don't understand..."

"What's not to understand?" he asked with a cocked head. "My girl's not gonna hold a single mop, not while she's with me."

"But... I just killed someone... aren't you afraid of me? Aren't you disgusted?"

He shrugged, his blue eyes remaining on you. "You think I'm gonna break up with you over some meaningless groupie? Don't be ridiculous, sweet cheeks. Now, if you'd somehow managed to kill someone like Shoko or Suguru, then I'd have a problem, although I am quite impressed that you managed to cut her head off with a martini glass... C'mon, let's get you out of these clothes and into something nicer. We can't have my guests wondering why my date's all red and sticky, hmmm?"

You said nothing, instead following his lead as he snuck you into another room. He slipped your ruined party dress off, then he turned on the faucet and grabbed a hand towel, washing off all the blood that was on your face and your body.

"I still just can't believe that you'd accept this. Aren't you scared of me?" You asked once more, finally speaking up as he washed the blood off your soft skin.

"Hell nah, baby. You forget you're dating the strongest guy in all the land," he said with a sly wink. "Plus, I think it's cute; you're all protective over me. Who would've known that you had bark and bite?"

"You're such a freak, Satoru," you said with comically narrowed eyes. "I bet you find that shit hot, you narcissist."

Satoru merely laughed and shook his head. "You know me too well."

*:..｡o○ 𝙆𝙚𝙣𝙩𝙤 𝙉𝙖𝙣𝙖𝙢𝙞 ∞ ₒ ˚ ° 𐐒

╰┈➤ If there was one thing you hated more than anything, it was the widely accepted fact that having a work wife was considered the norm, especially in an office where people spent a good 9 hours a day typing away at their computers and drinking for another extra hour afterwards. Kento Nanami was the exception to the latter, though. You knew you were a lucky girl when your sweet, sweet boyfriend Kento told you on the third date that he was a homebody, and how he'd much rather just lie in bed with his lover than go out for drinks.

"I'm not really the extroverted type, if I'm being honest," the deliciously handsome blonde man said after taking a sip of his wine. "I'd much rather spend the night watching a movie or making dinner for my loved ones. I'm actually quite the cook, if you'd be interested in trying out some of my dishes. I don't even know why I decided to try out dating in the first place; it actually makes me quite nervous."

"I would love to try some of those meals out, but I think that we should try out some of your recipes later. It sounds like a fun date idea regardless! Maybe you could even teach me how to make those amazing meals? Perhaps the ones that you hold close to your heart? And, honestly, I'm not the going out type either. It took me so much to hype myself up for this date, but I'm glad I'm on it."

Kento smiled when you found the idea rather fun. He knew you'd be a great match for him, especially since he loved to make others smile by filling up their bellies with his own creations (double entendre?)

"But you? Nervous? Seriously? You've been nothing but kind to me, suave even. You're punctual, and you held the chair out for me to sit in. You're just my kinda guy, Kento. Those other tinder matches ain't got nothing on you."

He blushed at the usage of his first name, but he couldn't say he didn't like it. A naïveté towards norms, he presumed, but a naïveté he could appreciate.

Yeah, he knew you were a keeper.

You also quickly learned early on just how tight-knitted his schedule was, but what he lacked in time spent with you he made up for with romance and courting. He'd frequently send you flowers to your workplace and to your home; he took you to the finest restaurants and even the opera; and he made sure to text you regularly. The seven months you'd spent with him were some of the best of your life, and you prayed to god that you wouldn't fuck it up in any way. You were both dating for marriage, and he couldn't have found a better future wife.

Well, that's what he thought, at least. He didn't exactly know about your jealous tendencies, the tendencies that made you buy so many cleaning supplies and bottles of bleach, you started to receive discounts for the shit. The local utility store employees even thought you were a maid, given by the amount of disposable gloves that you went through.

"I should hire you as a maid someday, when I can actually pay for one at least," said the cashier of the home improvement store that you frequented (if you couldn't tell, he was low-key making a pass at you).

"A maid? I'm not-" you quickly stopped when you realized that this would give you a possible coverup and alibi if you needed one.

"I'm confused... aren't you a cleaning lady?" He asked once more.

"Oh, yeah! I totally just forgot all about my job!" You exclaimed, passing it off with a laugh and a smile. "I'm sorry, but I'm not taking any more clients. I'll let you know when I am, though," you followed up with a wink.

Oh, how suave you were. You'd always been an expert at lying, and now was no different. In fact, with the amount of bodies you'd racked up, one could say you were the best liar in all of Japan.

And no, not in terms of sexual partners; you were a killer. A killer by textbook definitions, at least.

It's not like you wanted to kill all these girls! It's just that, with the amount of people that so obviously flocked to your boyfriend of seven months, you'd have to make sure that he wasn't getting any ideas.

It started out with the local call-girl that hollered at him when the two of you were walking home from a date. "Hey, suga! You ever thought about spending time with all this?" She hollered from the other side of the road. Nanami kept his cool and ignored her, passing her off as no more than a streetwalker trying to scam him for all his worth.

You made sure she was forgotten about, though; her body was found cut into pieces a few nights later by the garbage people.

Next came that stupidly innocent bakery worker (get the ref?). "Come again soon!" She called out to Kento after he bought a few pastries for the two of you. You came back a few nights later, and you wiped that innocent look off her face and replaced it with a wide cut on either sides of her mouth, along with a giant slash along her torso.

Soon it was girl #3, then #4, #5, and #6. By the time you hit your first anniversary, it was up to 11 people in total. You knew that your man was a desired man, but god, could people really not keep their hands and words to themselves?

#12 seemed to cause quite the nuisance for you, though. It just so happened that Kento had a "work-wife," or at least according to Miss Work-Wife herself when you met her at an office holiday party. After spending so much time together, your sweet Kento brought you to the party, intending to show you off to all of his jealous colleagues who couldn't keep a partner, even if they tried. He intended to have you on his arm, a subtle act of pride and showing off. He always kept to himself, so why not spice things up a little bit? It was his time to be selfish.

He seemed to have two women on his arm, though: you and the stupid work-wife who just couldn't stop butting into every single situation.

"Oh, so you're Kenny's girl? I didn't know that he liked the girly type; I always thought he'd be into the straight-laced, conservative type. But to each their own, I guess!" she remarked.

Oh how much you hated backhanded compliments. Could people really not understand just how bad they were at covering that shit up? She might as well have called you a brainless bimbo who wore heels that were too high to save her own life. As if she wasn't wearing a face full of fucking makeup, you thought to yourself. Glowy foundation is still foundation, regardless of how "low coverage" it was. And those clumpy ass eyelashes--why the fuck would your man associate with such lowly looking wenches? If he were to talk to women, the least he could do was talk to the nice looking ones. At least then you'd have something cute to carve into.

You'd made a vow to stop killing every woman you see, it wasn't fair to kill all of Kento's friends! He hadn't even given you a reason to doubt him. He was still the same suave gentleman from the very first date. It wasn't like those Reddit AITA posts where the men gradually started putting in less and less effort. If you were a sane person, that would be your train of thought.

But you're not sane--whoever said you were? You're crazy, and that's just a part of you. At least Ken had a loving girlfriend to come home to at the end of the night, even if you needed antipsychotics.

So, when you invited the chick over for drinks one late night, you made sure to do it with a certain plan in mind.

You were going to stab that stupid smile off her face, then dump her somewhere inconspicuous.

┆ . It was laughably easy for you to kill her. You swapped out the white carpet in your apartment for a black one that absorbed all the colors that flew into it, and brought out the spare furniture that you'd been meaning to get rid of a while ago. You even covered the walls with spare wall art that was also gonna go into the trash.

"It's so lovely of you to have me over for drinks, (Y/N)! I knew that from the moment I met you, the two of us were going to be friends," she said, stupidly oblivious to what was about to happen to her.

"Oh, well, I try to be as active in Kento's life as possible, and that includes making friends with his friends as well," you said smoothly, lying through your teeth. She wasn't his friend; he didn't even have her number saved. You grabbed a martini glass from your mini-bar and poured her a dirty martini, making extra sure that the poison didn't look too out of place. You even added pineapple juice to hide the slightly white film in the liquid, mixing it up with your drink mixer. "Y'know, I have a thing for mixology. Care to try one of my new concoctions?" You asked, handing her the glass.

"Would I?" she asked excitedly, taking the glass from you. She took a sip and let out an "ahh," looking satisfied with the drink.

"You like it?"

"Oh, you bet I do. I've always had a thing for pineapple juice."

About 10 minutes in, and she only barely started showing signs of fatigue, much to your fucking dismay. Whoever said that this poison was a fast acting agent must've gotten it on Canal St. "Gosh, I'm a little tired. Do you mind if I lie down?" she asked, already lying down on the couch.

"By all means, go ahead," you smiled, though deep down you wanted to peel her grimy face off your pillows with a potato peeler.

She yawned, stretching her hands above her head, only to have them fall back down on her torso and go to her heart. "My c-chest hurts a little," she laughed. "I've always had a problem with... heartburn. It's a genetic thing."

You took a sip of your own martini, already sick and tired of playing the long game. "It's not heartburn you stupid bitch; I poisoned your fucking drink." The obvious change of voice caught her heavily off guard, and she looked at you with bewilderment. "God, I am so sick and tired of hearing you yap, yap and yap about my boyfriend. Don't you know that one day, we're gonna get married? We don't need suck-ups like you to soak up all the attention."

"Wha- what do you mean?" she slurred, freaking out as she felt her chest tightening. "You put poison in my drink?! Are you... crazy?!"

"I am; I even take meds for it," you said nonchalantly, splashing around the martini in your cup. "Here, try some of mine, see if you like it better," you said cruelly, splashing the alcohol in her face and making her eyes burn. "You really should be wary of the people whose homes you walk into; you never know what exactly to expect with strangers. Especially if you're trying to steal their boyfriends."

"I-I'm not trying to-"

"Girl, please, I've poisoned you, I think it's time we cut the bullshit and the niceties, yeah? I've never been one to be nice anyway, at least not behind closed doors." You got up off the chair, walking to the nearby dresser and pulling out a knife. "When I first saw you, I knew I'd have to kill you eventually. Kento's a nice guy, and he shouldn't have whores like you around him. You're all just a bunch of fucking flies, do y'know that?" You asked, wiping the blade of your knife with a cloth. She could no longer speak, her face turning purple as she fumbled off the couch, crawling towards the door. "Don't even bother with that," you sneered, kicking her down and away from the door. She meekly crawled away, only to have her hair pulled back forcefully by you.

"Have you ever had someone try to steal your boyfriend before? Lemme tell you: it's not a fun feeling. The idea that people would be so dumb as to lay their paws on what's yours... I know my Kento's a dreamboat, but there are other eligible bachelors to choose from in this city. Unluckily for you, you picked the wrong one, because that boy is mine."

You grabbed her and hauled her over to where you had a tarp laid out in the kitchen, and you brought the knife to her neck. "Take a long, last look at this filet mignon, because it's what's gonna be the last thing you fucking see." You then cut it across her throat, hard enough to almost rip her head off of her spine. "Maybe in your next life, you won't be such a whore."

She fumbled about, her hands going to her neck, only for you to grab the knife and stab her brain, effectively killing her. "Poison was taking too long, anyway," you muttered.

The murder was quite clean and it went pretty smoothly, although you'd wished it was the poison instead.

"I'll make sure to give it a one star," you muttered, holding the poison.

You stood up, reaching out for a nearby smock to wipe your hands clean of the blood. You thought you were in the clear, your twelfth kill under your leather belt, only for a voice behind you to disturb the serenity: "love? Are you home? I wanted to surprise you-"

You stopped in your tracks, frozen like a deer in headlights. It didn't take a genius, much less his girlfriend of over a year to realize who it was behind you.

Were you really that idiotic? Did you forget to lock the door?

You looked in the reflection of the kitchen window, seeing Kento's puzzled expression on his face. He was even holding pink roses in one of his arms and had chocolates in the other.

"Ken... I didn't mean for you to- you shouldn't have to see this mess-"

You stopped for a second, trying to swallow the lump in your throat. You turned around, nothing but fear written on your typically calm and gorgeous features. "I didn't mean for you to see me like this," you said, your voice cracking slightly.

"I could guess that," he remarked, his voice as soft as ever. He knew that you were quite fragile in this moment, so he was careful to walk closer to you and wrap his strong arms around your frame once he got to his destination.

You stood there in silence, not knowing what to do or say when he hugged you. Wasn't he... afraid? Wasn't he disgusted by you having killed one of his coworkers?

"I meant to surprise you tonight with dinner. I brought you some takeaway from your favorite place, and I even bought you roses."

You looked down at the bouquet of pink roses that were freshly picked and bought from the local florist. Some of the blood on your hands dripped onto a petal, staining it a hauntingly beautiful color, somehow making this whole situation more romantic.

You'd only ever hurt people, so why was this situation so comforting?

"Thank you, Kento... I appreciate it," you muttered, still reeling from the realization that Kento glossed over the fact that you were the person responsible for all those murders in the newspapers. You wondered if he knew that all this time, his wonderful, graceful girlfriend was the one killing and maiming random girls. He took you to the sink and washed all the blood off your hands with some bleach, then scrubbed the bleach clean with a lavender-scented hand soap.

"Careful now, we wouldn't wanna stain your dress, would we? Not when you're already date night ready," he remarked, his deep voice a soothing balm to your ears.

You simply nodded, going along with whatever he said. After washing them off clean, he wrapped up the tarp and made extra sure not to spill any of the bodily fluids anywhere, putting it in a spare closet nearby. You stood there, watching as your boyfriend cleaned up your crime scene in your apartment. You watched his features, and you couldn't tell if he was upset or not.

He guided you back to the dining table where the bag of food was. He set out plates and cutlery for the two of you, not letting you lift a single finger. Once the two of you sat down, he started eating in silence when he saw you looking at him.

"(Y/N), don't let it go cold. Eat up," he instructed softly.

You obliged, picking up your fork and eating the red meat hesitantly. Red meat, how poetic.

"Kento," you started, putting your fork down and looking up at the blonde man. "We're gonna have to talk about it eventually."

"I know, sweetheart, I know. Just... not over red meat, okay?"

You simply nodded, going back to your food. You ate more comfortably, the knowledge that you no longer had the secret hidden making you rest easier now. Perhaps he did know already, and he just didn't wanna make you any more worried than you already were by bringing it up. Perhaps he was put off by it, but he was willing to gloss over it and act like it didn't matter. Whatever the reason might've been, you could rest easy knowing that your boyfriend wasn't going anywhere.

"Work was quite eventful today. They handed out promotions, and I was one of the lucky few who got one." He looked up at you after swallowing his food, carefully watching your expression and making sure you were alright.

"That's great news, Kento, I'm happy for you." He smiled softly at your acquiescence, happy to finally change the topic.

Blood always seemed to scared him.

I hope this was good enough... 👅

© ʙʀᴜɴᴇᴛᴛᴇ-ʙɪᴛᴄʜ77 on tumblr - get your own shit bitches | ca. 6/10/2024

[tadpolesonalgae]

YOU'RE CRUEL SOSO CRUEL, CRUSHING MY SOUL LIKE YTHSAT WHAATTT?? i remember when bas was first introduced i had sent an ask saying we should kill him, BEFORE I STARTED LOVING HIM AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA TABBYY what do i do with this anguish and pain now :< clawing my heart out nah, also i think the tortured poets department by taylor swift does sound a lot like bas and the cbmthy mc, like the middle of their relationship? when they'd gotten closer to each other. (i think stop thinking about him now, tell me we have his ring atleast 😭😭) can i also get brief description of bas? like little specifics, i wanna draw him gonna scroll back to the posts where he was introduced i think 6-7? (can we slap the orc :D) (i'm imagining reader going on a little trip around the fae world, all on her own, living with a orc for a while, the comedic interactions they would havee ohhh so fun!) Thank you for writing this, i really need something to make me feel cause i felt deprived of emotions recently, and this was perfect (my poor baby bass...😭) i've been tellling my friends about you and your writing wuuwwu, just wait you're gonna be bombed with me filling your asks talking about all your fics that i missed out on sending warm hugs and lots of love <3 stay hydrated!

🧍🏻‍♀️

'YOU'RE CRUEL SOSO CRUEL, CRUSHING MY SOUL LIKE YTHSAT WHAATTT??'

It was soul crushing to write too!!

'i remember when bas was first introduced i had sent an ask saying we should kill him, BEFORE I STARTED LOVING HIM AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA'

Oh my gosh I remember that!! So it's not me to blame really - you're the one who suggested it!! (I'm entirely to blame. and it was done with intention)

'also i think the tortured poets department by taylor swift does sound a lot like bas and the cbmthy mc, like the middle of their relationship? when they'd gotten closer to each other.'

It has now been added to Bas' playlist, thank you

I also find Beanie by Chezile, and Mary by Alex G (more for the instrumental/vibes than the lyrics) make me think of Bas and reader together <3

(Also thank you for mentioning the song - I love getting to hear if anyone finds a piece of music that reminds them of a story <3)

'can i also get brief description of bas? like little specifics, i wanna draw him gonna scroll back to the posts where he was introduced i think 6-7?'

Oh my gosh sure!! Okay so I imagine him to be around 23 with more than a couple of piercings. I don't think he tends to dress particularly 'smart' but he's clean with himself, generally gravitates towards more practical clothing? So like those big heavy stompers for boots that are great for hiking?

I'm not sure if I've properly described his features or hairstyle before but his face is kind of squarish from a side-profile? Relatively angular bone structure but with a soft, sloped nose and mouth. I don't think he has a prominent cupids bow, and his nose is also kind of flat? His eyes are obviously golden, and he has an eyebrow piercing on his left brow (so, looking at him, it would be on the right hand side) He has one piercing on the lobe of his right ear, and four on his left ear: two lobe piercings (all lobe piercings are hoops), one rook, and one helix.

For his hair (though idk if it would be possible in Prythian but they have magic so surely) I imagine he keeps most of his hair cropped? Like an undercut sort of thing, with dreadlocks on top? Like mohawk dreadlocks but not as far back down his skull <3 (I also think he has some wooden, and some gold beads he sometimes loops onto them)

I really have no idea how much detail you want so I kind of tried to include as much as I could think of?

(Also, reference for hairstyle in first image though I imagine his dreads to not be as thick as those ones since I think he would find the weight of thicker locks irritating at times with the tension on his scalp, facial structure in second, and skin tone in third/offering a different angle)

Also, if you do draw him, I would genuinely love to see it, but I think it can sometimes be daunting if someone asks you to share artwork so please don't feel like there's a time pressure or like you're now legally required to do it <3 (Also this was just super fun for me, getting to think about Bas and what he looks like! <3)

'(can we slap the orc :D)'

Can we do other things to the orc, too?

'(i'm imagining reader going on a little trip around the fae world, all on her own, living with a orc for a while, the comedic interactions they would havee ohhh so fun!)'

Haha, yeah I think it was kind of cute seeing her feathers be ruffled around Mal <3 That and it was just fun getting to write her bristling since nobody really gets under her skin

'i've been tellling my friends about you and your writing wuuwwu, just wait you're gonna be bombed with me filling your asks talking about all your fics that i missed out on'

You know, you can be incredibly chaotic (🧡💛) at times but you're also such a cutie patootie <3

I'm not sure how much there is to catch up on this time, since I was struggling with writing, but if you do find anything new I hope you enjoy it!!!

'sending warm hugs and lots of love <3 stay hydrated!'

Generally I can't stand physical affection but in this weather I will gladly accept anything that brings me some warmth :')

I'm sending you so many warm and happy vibes in return!! <3

[zotlel]

The Exhibition (M)

pairing: jaebeom x you (ft. jinyoung)

genre: photographer!au, smut, romance, one-shot

synopsis: You are starved for inspiration as a photography student. When visiting the anonymous photographer “Defsoul’s” exhibit you meet a like-minded boy who gives you that spark. Only you didn’t expect the night to pan out exactly as it did.

word count: 7.8k

The wide city sidewalk was packed full of people anxious to get home and start their weekends. Their hurried steps accompanied by the warm street lights were quite a sight, you thought. With a quick flash of your camera, you are able to capture the scene as is, but you were already running late. You weave in and out through the bodies because unlike them you were not going home.

This was the third year of your photography program at the city’s most prestigious university. Despite how much you loved photography, you had been stuck in a creative rut recently that you just couldn’t seem to break free from. Therefore it had become a tradition of yours starting this new school year to attend some sort of photography exhibition on Friday nights. The size of the city that you were currently studying in allowed this to be a possibility due to the ever-growing art community it had.

Your steps continue at a quick pace, but you couldn’t help your eye from wandering at the scenes around you. So hungry for any sort of inspiration, from the streets dampened with a former rainstorm to the businessman making quick work to undo his burgundy tie that had been constricting his neck. Anything. You wished for just anything to strike you with a spark.

You had finally reached your destination where the new exhibition was being held. Alone. That was the title of the photographer’s first show. The photographer in question? Unknown. The photographer was going under the alias as “Defsoul.” It was quite a trendy thing these days to have no idea whose art you were looking at. You really could not wrap your head around as to why you would not want to put your name amongst the work you are proud of. Which was also a perfect example of why you probably struggled so much creatively.

The space the photographer chose had a rather grunge vibe, photographs were arranged on the tattered brick walls and all throughout the room. The air was thick around you as soft R&B beats flowed throughout the space. Stepping into the studio, you notice that you are one of the first patrons to arrive at the exhibition. While most guests came in pairs or groups you stood small in the expansive space in solitary, you preferred it that way. Small gatherings of people were scattered throughout the different rooms, all ranging from different ages, sexes, and ethnicities. You silently complemented the ambiguous photography for having the ability to reach so many demographics. The more you walked about the studio space, the more you understood everyone’s attraction to the enthralling photos.

Each photo was supposed to emit a different sentiment, or so that is what you have learned from your classes. The photos themselves vary from different subjects, older couples holding each other close, some were expansive European landscapes, and then also the occasional stray cat stretching in the afternoon sun. You tried your hardest to interpret the photos in your own words, trying to find the connection. Alone. That was the exhibition name. So why didn’t you feel that when walking amongst the various scenes?

To you, the different film that was taken emulated a mass collection of photos taken from someone’s personal collection. There was a sense of solace in each photo that you couldn’t quite put your finger on. It felt as if you were with the photographer in every photo, imagining the way they shot each scene. You had been walking around rather aimlessly through the gallery until you stopped upon one image in particular. 

The photograph was no more expressive than any other photo in the gallery, but you couldn’t help stopping and staring. The scene was the back of a man, his hair slightly long and disheveled, he looks out into an extensive lake surrounded by forestry, the light of a late midday sun which illuminated the photograph.  You cannot help your logical analysis of the image, and you find no flaws. The common idea surrounding photography is that it is a completely creative and artistic practice, while this isn’t false, it just so happened to also require certain formulas as well. It requires an eye for direction, proportions, and balance. This photo that fascinated you in the gallery had all of those elements.

The sound from the other patrons fades around you as you become enraptured in the photograph. It was only the scent of pure pine and spice that had you reeling back to the current moment. To the right side of you, a man stood, he wasn’t looking at you but instead he was, just as you were, staring into the alluring photo. You studied the man, he seemed to be around your age, taller than you, with dark hair that matched his sultry eyes. You admired the man’s bone structure, tall nose and cheekbones, he really was quite attractive. 

The way your gaze lingered on his face must have given him a sense of being watched. Because before you could hide your stare the handsome man was shifting his face towards you, looking straight into your eyes, a devilish smirk dances on his features. Heat rises to the apples of your cheeks as you turn to look at the picture again, pretending like you weren’t just caught checking him out.

“What do you think?”

You turn to face him, “Excuse me?”

“About the photo,” he smiles back at you. You cough slightly trying to hide your embarrassment. 

“Oh, um-” you start carefully, “it is actually my favorite one in this exhibit I think.” 

His face softens at your answer as he nods, looking back to the photo before he begins to speak again, “What’s so great about it?” 

You look at the photo one more time, really analyzing it.

“I’m not sure exactly,” you say honestly. “It was the only photo that really caught my eye. Don’t get me wrong I thought all these photos were great, but this one helped me visualize what the photographer must have been witness to through his photos.”

He looks back at you with a surprised expression. 

“That’s a really interesting take on the photo, I thought you just thought the man in it was attractive.”

You laugh slightly, “You can’t see much of looks from a person’s back.”

This has the man doubling over in laughter, much to your surprise. You look around the room to see if any of the other patrons are staring at the man, you couldn’t help but feel a bit embarrassed at the attention. Then you looked back at the man and his blinding smile and you cannot help but return the same emotion. And for the first time, in a long time, you began to feel captivated with this man.

His laughter seizes yet his smile remains as he turns his body to face you, “I am Jaebeom by the way.” 

He says while extending his hand out to you. You are now able to see his entire face as you grip his hand in a greeting. To your surprise, he had a silver nose ring on his right side, along with multiple piercings all up and down his ears. It was your first time feeling such an attraction to a man’s jewelry. You blink rapidly realizing you had just been grasping his hand in silence for some time, but he didn’t seem to mind. You tell him your name before dropping your connected hands, he repeats it softly as if he was saying it for only him to hear.

“Did you come by yourself tonight?” He asks.

“Is that some form of a pick-up line?” You reply back snarkily which has the man chuckling at your playful banter.

“It’s only a pickup line if it works,” he states causing your head to nod in agreement.

“Well then yes, I am alone if you must know.”

“Fascinating. I would have definitely assumed you to just be here on a date, not actually here for the art,” he says.

You scoff, “How pretentious of you to assume such a thing,” you say. 

“I’m a photography student if you couldn’t guess, so I am most definitely here for the art.”

“I meant no offense,” he holds his ringer clad hands up in a form of surrender. “It was just a simple observation due to the other people here tonight.”

He wasn’t wrong about that, you thought. The gallery was littered with different couples strolling throughout the space. Love could easily be seen in the air the minute you walked in. Not that you minded, of course. If you had allowed yourself to date you would also think to come to an art gallery like this, spending time with someone you were attracted to amongst gorgeous imagery, it was quite romantic. 

“This does seem to be a hot-spot for couples tonight,” you note back to him.

“So, what would you say if I asked you to come out for a drink with me tonight instead of staying here?” He asks you.

“What, are the lovebirds kind of cramping your style?” You laugh back at his sudden suggestion.

He laughs at this before continuing, “Not necessarily. I’m just interested in you, I thought maybe a good way of getting to know more about the beautiful girl from the gallery would be over a couple of drinks.”

You smile shyly looking away from him, “I don’t know, I was kind of curious to see if this secret photographer would show themselves by the end of the night.”

“Trust me, he’s not one for introductions.”

He? You thought to yourself, how could Jaebeom know the gender of the photographer? Perhaps he had been coming to Defsoul’s exhibitions enough to have eventually met the elusive photographer. 

Perhaps you should take Jaebeom up on his offer. Hell, you couldn’t even remember the last time you had been out for a drink. Especially with a man as good-looking as Jaebeom. Maybe you could finally allow yourself to let loose, just this once.

“Well, in that case, you lead the way,” he smiles at your response. Jaebeom raises his hand inviting you to take hold. You do so while smiling, excited for what the night shall bring.

Jaebeom grips your hand tightly as you two make your way throughout the lamp-lit city streets. Your heart is beating wildly every time he would look back to check if you were still there, grinning when he is met with your presence. The two of you walk hand-in-hand as he tells you he is taking you to one of his favorite lounges in the city, you can’t help your excitement.

You two finally arrive at the bar, the exterior of the building is ornate in nature with vintage signage and lights decorating the brick walls. Jaebeom drops his grasp on your hand to open the large wooden door allowing you to step inside first, what a gentleman you thought. Inside the lounge the cigar smoke twisted in an elegant way, forming curls in the dim light. The room was illuminated solely by the age-speckled bar lights. Jaebeom finds an empty booth towards the back for you two to sit. A smartly dressed waiter comes around to grab drink orders and skirts away hurriedly after. You sit back a bit in your seat trying to calm your nerves by looking around the room. 

You wouldn’t exactly describe yourself as an introverted person, but this definitely was a new experience for you. Coming out with a man you barely knew, to a part of town you were unfamiliar with, just for drinks. It was all so different for you, but there was something about Jaebeom that made you feel a certain sense of security. It was usually pretty easy for you to tell when a guy was a complete sleaze-bag and Jaebeom definitely did not give off that impression. Still, you couldn’t help but feel slightly shy to be with such a handsome man.

“I’m so curious to hear what you are thinking,” Jaebeom speaks up from the other end of the table. 

You turn to look at him and notice his chin perched on his hand as he stares dreamily at you with his deep-set eyes. You go red as you realize he must have been studying you this entire time.

“I was just thinking about how all of this is a very new experience for me,” you respond back.

“What exactly?”

“Just this,” you emphasize your words by swinging your finger in the space between the two of you. 

“I’ve never said yes to drinks with a man I had met less than an hour before.”

“You don’t say,” he chuckles. “I would imagine a girl as beautiful as you would have plenty of suitors waiting to take you out for a simple cocktail.”

You laugh at this. It’s not that men have not tried taking you out in the past, they most certainly did. You were just in a place with your life that didn’t allow you the capacity for any man. It wasn’t as bad as it sounded, really. You knew that at this point in your life the things that were the most important to you were school and finding your place in the competitive field of photography. No man could ever distract you from this dream of yours.

“Even so,” you begin. “I don’t really have the time for any sort of man in my life right now.”

“So then why did you agree to come out with me?” Jaebeom asks you.

That was a good question, why did you say yes? Despite the fact that Jaebeom had been one of the most attractive men to ever approach you, you wondered what it was about him that pulled your attention so strongly.

“I’m not sure why exactly it’s kind of hard to explain,” you say. “I just feel comfortable in your presence.”

This was something new to hear for Jaebeom. Mysterious, chic, sexy. These were all things Jaebeom was used to hearing from women, but “comfortable” was new. Little did you know, you were also a new experience entirely for him. The other women Jaebeom had encountered in his life felt like nothing more than a shallow quest for lust or domination with him. But you, he wanted to know so much more about the girl sitting across from him. Your dreams, inhibitions, fears. He could listen to you ramble on all night.

“I feel the same way,” he replies back coolly, to which you beam back a tender smile.

The rest of the night with Jaebeom is filled with giddy conversation between the two of you, both anxious to learn more about the other. You share with him things that some of your closest friends did not even know about you, but that was the power he held. He somehow was able to fluster you like a shy schoolgirl and yet hold your hand so sincerely that it felt as if you had known him for years. Drinks and conversation flowed throughout the few hours you spent with him at the lounge, effectively easing all your anxiety.

Once the two of you got onto the topic of photography there was no stopping the excitement. You could see in his eyes he loved it just as much as you, but ultimately he feared he was not good enough to be professional. You related closely to this worry, also sharing the hardships you faced with the creative aspect of it all. The way Jaebeom was able to relate so deeply to you on this issue made him all the more attractive to you, but that could also be the drinks talking.

“Of course you also make music,” you laugh at the man across from you at his recent confession.

“What is that supposed to mean?” He gawks back at you.

“Nothing offensive really,” you begin. 

“It just fits your whole image you know. The gorgeous man I met at the exhibit is also incredibly deep and creative,” you joke with him.

He smiles and nods his head understanding that to most people he appears that way. Not that he minded, of course, he just wished sometimes he wasn’t so easy to read. 

“Gorgeous, huh?”

He completely ignores your other statements to instead put you on the spot, but to his surprise, you don’t seem the least bit bashful. Instead, you take a long sip from your drink before setting it down with a soft thud. Looking him in the eye as if to say, “Did I stutter?” Jaebeom smirks and breaks his eye contact, absentmindedly twirling the small cocktail straw in his almost empty glass. 

“I want to hear your music,” you say breaking him from his trance. 

He looks up to see you leaning in on the table excitedly, a small flame of mischief burning behind your eyes. 

He leans in towards you, “Really?” 

You nod.

“Well then, let’s get out of here.”

You knew just as well as anyone what it meant to go back to his place and listen to his music, but that was exactly what you wanted. Jaebeom hails over the waiter closing up your tab before you both exit the bar to the crisp Autumn night air. As if on cue, a taxi pulls in front of where the two of you stood, allowing a handsome young couple to exit its backseat. Jaebeom takes the opportunity, seizing the door open for you to step into the now emptied seats of the taxi. He joins in after you quickly telling the older man who was driving the taxi his address.

The ride began innocently enough. Silent, as you two sat next to one another, too nervous to make eye contact. Because you knew as soon as you looked, things would take a drastic turn, but you were always too curious for your own good. You turn your head slightly to catch Jaebeom looking at you, not in your eyes, but everywhere else. From the way that your legs were crossed to your innocently folded hands in your lap, the curves of your body, the long expanse of your neck, until finally, into your lust-filled eyes. That was all it took.

Jaebeom was the first to snap, instantly latching his hand onto the back of your neck in order to bring your lips onto his. You more than happily obliged bringing your own hands to rest on his taut shoulders, molding your lips unto his. The connection was everything you imagined. Hot, rushed, and oh so gratifying. You could taste the deep bitters of his drink as his tongue danced across your lip, your own tongue eager to meet his. He groaned into your mouth once he felt the connection which in turn had you draping a leg across his lap attempting for your bodies to be closer. You felt somewhat sorry for the cab driver, but you mostly didn’t care.

Jaebeom grips your leg that is draped over him feeling the soft flesh beneath your tight jeans. God, he only imagined what you looked like completely exposed to him. The thought had to wait as the two of you could feel the car come to an abrupt stop, followed by an awkward cough from the front seat. You both break free and stare into each other’s dark gazes, unable to shake the overwhelming amount of lust. It took a second clearing of the cab driver’s throat to snap the trance and leave his car. Jaebeom handed the man the cab fare, being sure to tip him generously, before exiting the car and extending a hand out to you. You take it graciously after saying a quick “thank you” to the driver. 

Once outside the cab, the pace of the evening leveled out. Jaebeom, now calm and collected, takes your hand in his, smiling at you briefly before guiding you to a rather expensive-looking building. It was late at night when you two arrived, yet upon entering the bright lobby you notice a rather well-dressed attendant sitting modestly behind a large desk. She looks up from her desk to see who had entered. Upon gazing at Jaebeom she stands and bows her head silently in a form of saying “Welcome.” Jaebeom smiles politely at her while still having you in tow towards the titanium elevator doors. They open upon his touch of the button allowing you both to step inside.

The feeling of being next to Jaebeom in the elevator versus the taxi was entirely different. While the backseat of the taxi was filled with nothing but lust for one another, the elevator was quiet. Utter silence from you both as you anxiously spare looks to one another. Whenever one of you caught the other’s eye it would be hard to hide your bashful smiles. Your stomach was doing flips in expectancy of what was to come. The doors part, you had arrived. 

Jaebeom enters his apartment with relative ease, despite his nerves making it difficult to punch in his door code. Once the two of you were inside is when he finally began to speak, “Can I offer you anything to drink? Wine? Water?”

“Wine sounds lovely, thank you,” you respond back. 

He smiles, “Wine it is. Please make yourself at home while I go get us some glasses.”

Then he is off, leaving you to wander about his apartment curiously. It was relatively a clean place, or rather there just wasn’t much furniture in general. Simplistic and chic. You couldn’t think of a more fitting apartment for Jaebeom. You walk about the space coming unto what seemed to be a living room with a single black leather loveseat and a computer desk against the opposite wall. You make your way over to the couch sitting down gently. 

Not long after, Jaebeom appears from the doorway holding two glasses of a deep red wine. He chuckles nervously extending one glass to you. Jesus, he was so endearing. You take the glass with a small smile and thank him, bringing the bitter liquid to your lips. 

“Did you still want me to play you some of my work?” Jaebeom asks nervously, still standing above you. 

You had almost completely forgotten that was the whole reason you wanted to come. You were too enraptured by the beautiful man’s aura. 

“Yes please, play me something,” you say excitedly. 

He takes a sip of his wine and smiles before turning his back and walking towards the computer. He types away for about a minute before a soft melody can be heard throughout the room. You look to see speakers installed all around your head creating a hypnotic atmosphere. You close your eyes and sway, finding yourself getting lost in the beats and pretty vocals of his song. It isn’t until you feel a dip in the seat next to you that you open your eyes to see the expectant face of Jaebeom at your side.

“You really made this?”

“Yeah, that’s my voice if you can’t tell,” he replies nervously bringing a hand to rub at the back of his neck.

“I don’t know as much about music as I do photography, but this is really good,” you say to him which has him chuckling and shaking his head. “No, really I mean it.”

He looks up at you to see that you were in fact being genuine. He felt more proud then than at any other moment he could remember. Jaebeom sets his wine glass down on the coffee table next to yours before turning his full attention towards you, tucking a soft hair behind one of your ears. 

“You’re really something, did you know that?” He asks you, with a voice just barely above a whisper.

Your heart pounded loudly in your chest at the sudden close proximity, but God did you love this man’s presence. You leaned slightly into his hand that was still hovering near the side of your face, allowing him to cup your cheek affectionately. 

“That’s funny,” you say. “I was thinking the same thing about you.”

He’s smiling at you now, staring deeply into your shining eyes. The self-control he had completely left him at that point. He leans into you slowly, allowing you time to register what was about to happen. You close the gap, kissing him softly. He sighs into the kiss, languidly moving his lips against yours while at the same time grabbing your hips to move your body closer. You reciprocate and bring it a step further, throwing one leg over his lap to straddle his thighs, never once breaking apart your lips.

He takes a shaky breath the minute your body softly grinds onto his. God, he was intoxicating. You were so eager to elicit more responses from him, to watch him come undone, so you snake your hands into his long hair, earning an appreciative moan. You can’t help but whine at the sound, wanting nothing more than to feel his body pressed against yours. 

Jaebeom seems to know your thoughts exactly because in one moment he is sweeping you up off of the couch, legs still fastened tightly around him, making his way towards what you can only assume to be his bedroom. He would stop occasionally to press you against a nearby wall, breaking from your lips he would decorate your neck in soft kisses. The scent of his musky cologne exhilarating your thoughts. Finally, he reaches his bedroom, dropping you down to your feet softly with a thud. 

“I want you,” he breaths out onto your abused lips.

“Then you can have me,” you whisper. “All of me.”

He groans at your response as it seems they were the exact words he wished to hear. Swiftly Jaebeom grabs at your top peeling it off over your head leaving you clad in a simple black bra. If you had known you would be seen naked tonight you would have opted for something a little sexier, but Jaebeom doesn’t seem to mind. Instead, his head instantly drops to your cleavage, pushing your breasts eagerly up into his face as he begins to kiss and suck at your skin surely leaving marks for you to remember him by. You breathe out at the sensual feeling, greedy to feel his skin against your own.

You reach below him to tug at his black t-shirt hinting at how much you wanted it off of his body. He understands, breaking away from your chest to pull his shirt over his head. His chest is broad and milky, illuminated from the streetlights outside his bedroom window. You can’t help yourself, bringing a hand to rest against the middle of his chest. You felt him, all of him. The warmth, the sweat, the anticipation, all of it rested just below your fingertips. Slowly you drag your hand lower, noting the shiver that ran through Jaebeom’s body at your soft caresses. You reach his belt, playing with it you look up at him through your lashes, batting them innocently.

“Fuck-” he says. “If you keep looking at me that way, I don’t think I can control myself.”

“Perfect,” you say, pulling him closer by his belt loop. “I wouldn’t want it any other way.”

You have no idea where this sense of confidence has come from. Normally during sex, you tend not to be much of a talker, letting the man do as he pleases. Tonight felt different from all those nights before. Jaebeom made you a different person, someone who felt bold enough to take control. You liked this person he created, and he seemed to be just as pleased.

He smirks at you, enjoying your teasing nature, he pulls you flush against his skin. He holds your eye contact for a moment before firmly turning your body so that your back meets his chest. You gasp as you feel him move your hair to the side, decorating lustful kisses along your shoulder and neck. His hands find purchase on your hips, greedily massaging them while also forcing your ass to grind onto his already stiff cock straining against his jeans. You moan at the feeling, taking pride in the effect you had on him.

“Do you like that, baby?” He asks you. “The feeling of my hard cock against you?”

The man could talk dirty, you thought, could he be any more attractive?

You don’t reply with words. Instead, you grind your backside harder against him, causing a hiss to fall from his lips. You lull your head back dreamily, getting lost in the feeling of your bodies moving together, both of you ravenous for any sort of friction. While his hands stayed firmly on your hips you took this opportunity to grab at one of his hands, bringing it upward to your chest, encouraging Jaebeom to massage your breasts. He happily obliges, feeling up your warm body with his rough hands, your scent invigorating his mind.

“I want you to strip for me, then go lay on the bed,” Jaebeom softly commands in your ear, effectively snapping you out of your daze.

There was something about his assertive tone that sent heat straight to your core, you were so eager to feel him there. He takes a step away from your body allowing you space to remove your clothes, and you do so. You look over your shoulder at him to see his bottom lip caught between his teeth, anticipating your show. You reach down for the button of your jeans undoing it in a slow and sultry way until you are able to strip the fabric down your legs. 

Jaebeom intently watches your scantily clad figure which in turn gave you the confidence to continue. You put on a bit of a show with your movements, matching your swaying hips to his music that could still be heard inside the bedroom. Once you step your feet out of your jeans you turn your body so it is facing his. There is still a bit of space between your bodies, but the tension is extreme. You reach behind your back to unclasp your bra, taking one strap between your fingers as you allow the bra to drop. 

Upon seeing your bare chest a fire ignites behind Jaebeom’s eyes. You smirk, with still swaying hips, you hook two fingers into your panties. Turning once more to give him a view of your backside, you dance your way out of the soft material, letting it gather around your feet. Finally, now completely bare, you make your way to his large king bed adorned with fresh white sheets. Crawling on all fours up the bed, making sure to arch your back for the best view, you flip your body onto the bed awaiting his arrival.

Jaebeom drinks this all in. The music, fragrances, lights, visuals, and the ambiance of seeing your bare body lay upon his white sheets, decorated purely by the moonlight. Without waiting for a second longer he rids himself of the last of his clothing, pushing his jeans and boxers down with haste. He walks to the foot of the bed, softly caressing your calves as he climbs up the expanse of your body. Your eyes meet his hazily, running your gentle hands along his forearms until his forehead is resting softly against yours.

“Can I taste you?”

Your mind is in a haze at his request, but who were you to say no?

Your head nods at his request and he smiles. Kissing your lips passionately before dragging them lower and lower down your body. Occasionally Jaebeom would nip and suck on parts of your skin, causing your body to tremor. Until finally you began to feel his heated breaths over your core. You gripped the sheets expectantly, unconsciously tensing your body in anticipation. He gives each of your thighs one last kiss before licking a strong tongue through your core.

You moan instantly, surprised by how sensitive you were from just one touch. Jaebeom doesn’t stop, he grabs hold of your thighs effectively throwing them over his broad shoulders. At first, his licks are long and languid, causing your hips to fall in motion with his tongue. Once he begins to feel your thighs tense at the sensations he picks up his pace, switching from licking up your core to occasionally wrapping his lips around your clit. 

You feel electric waves throughout your body at his movements. At one particular suck, you moan out into the night, threading a hand through Jaebeom’s hair, which in turn has him groaning into you. He too was lost in the pleasure he was giving you. From your scent to your heavenly moans he couldn’t stop himself from grinding down against his mattress eager for some relief on his achingly hard cock.

“Jaebeom please, I need to feel you inside of me, please,” you manage to moan out wanting nothing more than for your bodies to become one.

Although Jaebeom wanted so badly to see your body come undone from his tongue alone, he too was starting to get impatient. One last suck to your clit before he is climbing back up your body, greedily you reach for him and connect your lips. He moans at your soft sucks against his tongue, desperate for you to taste your own arousal. 

Shockingly, you are able to flip your bodies over allowing you to climb on top of Jaebeom’s beautiful body. You break away from the kiss to sit up and see him. There he was in all his glory. The stoic man from the gallery naked and heaving beneath you, so eager to be inside of you. You smile sweetly at him and he groans, taking his painfully hard cock into your hand you stroke him tenderly, to which he throws his head back in excitement. Without waiting a second longer you align him with your dripping core, slowing sinking him deep inside of you.

You release an intense sigh that you didn’t know you were holding. Jaebeom moans at the warm feeling of your pussy wrapped tightly around him, he then looks to see where your bodies meet. As if on cue you begin to sway your hips back in forth, still in rhythm with the music coming from the living room. The pace is slow and sensual, just as you like. 

Jaebeom felt as if he could feel every little movement. From the way your beautiful hips swayed to your hands pressed firmly on his chest, he savored every second. His hands come to rest against your hips once again, encouraging your movements. Moans spill from your mouth as you get lost in the feeling of him buried so deep inside of you.

“Oh god,” you cry out.

Jaebeom is blissed out in the feeling, allowing you full control; he loses himself in the moment, suddenly becoming acutely aware of the song. You too let your body take over and allow your mind to float above the two of you making love. You can hear the melody too.

난 네게 눈이 멀었고

(I became blinded by you)

넌 내게 눈이 멀었겄지

(You probably became blinded by me)

우리 서로만을 보았고

(We only saw each other)

이 세상에 둘만 있었겠지

(We probably were the only ones in the world)

Jaebeom begins to lose his patience as he can feel his end nearing. You yelp with surprise as his strong arms wrap against your frame, flipping you onto your back. You squeeze around him from his dominant change in nature, he groans at the feeling.

“I want to feel you come all around me, baby,” he tells you. 

You nod back ready for him to ravish your body. He hooks one of your legs over his shoulder giving him the best angle for you both. The pace from before is completely different. While you took your time with Jaebeom while you rode him, when he was on top he fucked you, hard.

Sheathing himself back inside of you so hard and fast you both scream out in pleasure. He wastes no time fucking you raw, trying to chase the high you both so desperately longed for. His movements are fast yet calculated, effectively hitting your sweet spot every time he entered you. You were desperate to hold on to reality gripping the sheets above your head as you moaned loudly. Jaebeom saw this action and instead moved your hands to his hair.

“I want you to show me how good I’m making you feel,” he says to you in his gruff voice.

You understand his wish, grabbing his hair just as tightly as he fucked you, earning an appreciative groan from him spurring on his movements further. 

You felt your end coming. It was like a small fire that suddenly began to blister in the pit of your stomach. Your chest heaved for air as you gripped his hair even tighter, warning him. He understood.

“Come on, baby, I need to feel you come, please,” his words did just the trick.

The fire turned into an explosion as the white-hot orgasm swept through your body. You trembled in his hold as he thoroughly fucked you through your high. Once you came down you noticed his brows furrowed and his movements began to waver. You released his hair to hold him close to your body, encouraging him to let go.

He eventually reaches his own high as he drops his head to your shoulder, you hold him close as he moans out deliciously into your ear. His movements stutter as he tiredly milks his orgasm to completion. He slumps his body against yours, slick with sweat the two of you stay connected for some time attempting to calm your breaths. 

Tiredly you stroke your hand softly up and down his back lullingly. You begin to feel the effect of all the alcohol in your system as you fought to keep your eyes open. Too at peace with where you were, you allowed yourself to become a victim of slumber while caressing Jaebeom’s naked frame. 

When morning broke, you expected to be woken by the bright sunshine pouring into his room. Instead, the thing that woke you from your slumber was the distinct click of what you only know to be the sound of a film camera. Still naked in his sheets you turn your body over to see an equally naked Jaebeom perched at the foot of the bed with a small camera plastered to his face. The morning sun decorated his frame in the most beautiful way, you couldn’t help but smile at the sight.

He lowers the camera slowly from his face, gauging your reaction, “Sorry I just thought you looked so perfect lying there. Does it bother you?”

You shake your head no. He smiles and climbs up his bed to be with you again in the early morning light. He lays at your side and you turn your full body to him, he tucks a stray hair behind your ear. You both stay there for what felt like an eternity. Mindlessly you both would let your fingers dance along the other’s naked form, basking in the soft flesh below. The silence was infectious, filling your soul with content. You never wanted this feeling to end.

──

“Can I just say what an honor it is to be accompanying you on this gorgeous Friday night,” Jinyoung smiles at you. “The forsaken Friday nights that you would normally spend in solitude, per your own request, but I am the first one to break that tradition. Really it is a privilege.”

You laugh at Jinyoung’s over-the-top monologue. Jinyoung wasn’t wrong, he was the first person you had ever asked to accompany you on this Friday night. Your friends all knew the deal, Friday nights were for your alone time, for your creativity to rekindle. 

“You are just too handsome to say no to,” you reply back sweetly, reaching up to Jinyoung planting a swift kiss on his cheek. His eyes crinkle in the most adorable fashion. 

As much as you had grown and changed in the past couple of months, Jinyoung was always a constant in your life. Before you used to be so caught up in your art and finding inspiration that you never gave the cute boy from your English class the time of day. Often times Jinyoung would ask you out for the occasional coffee or study date to which you would always find an excuse not to go. It surprised you that even after all his failed attempts he even still wanted to take you out, so ultimately you agreed. You could say that perhaps you had a change of heart. Something eventually opened your eyes to his affection for you.

After walking some time the two of you finally make it to the exhibit. The words “Awake.” displayed in white neon outside the entrance. Looking to Jinyoung and smiling you both make your way through the large entryway. Subtly you feel him slide his fingers through your own, and your body heats at the affection. 

It had been quite some time since Defsoul had held any sort of photography exhibition. In fact, the last one being just over six months ago. Although the photographer was still active through social media you were surprised as to why it had taken them so long to put on another show. You remembered just how much you fell in love with their work last time that you were eager to see what else they had in store.

As the two of you walk hand-in-hand throughout the gallery you instantly notice the ambiance of this show to be vastly different from the one you had attended months before. The air was lighter, the photographs themselves felt brighter than before, and even the conversations between the patrons were airier. Jinyoung would occasionally point to certain photos attempting his best at discussing the art of photography in order to impress you. You would smile at his attempts, bringing his body closer to yours the more you strolled throughout the space.

Your mind couldn’t help but wander to the night you shared with Jaebeom just months before where you met him at one of these exhibits. It had been so long since you had even thought of him or his name that you had almost forgotten. Though the feelings you felt never disappeared. 

You catch yourself smiling at the memory before looking up at one of the larger displays in the studio. You stopped dead in your tracks upon looking, your breath caught in your throat as you just stared. It was you, not your face, your naked backside peeking perfectly out of his crisp white sheets, the morning sun playing through your soft hair beautifully. There you were on full display for the whole world to see. 

The world around you faded as you sat and stared, Jinyoung taking notice finally to what you had been looking at, “That is gorgeous, I think this might be my favorite one so far.”

You can’t hear him as your mind was reeling a mile a minute. It was then in that moment you came to realize everything. His sheets, his bed, his room, his photograph. This was his show, Jaebeom was Defsoul. How could you have not seen it before?

You looked about the room frantically, fear striking you as you noticed the other patron’s eyes glued to the huge mural of you, Jinyoung too being entranced with the photo. Anxiety bubbled over into your stomach. That was until you saw it, the title: Muse.

You didn’t know why exactly upon reading the simple word that tears began to pool in your eyes. Again you looked around the room. You needed to see him, to confirm your thoughts. You needed to know who Jaebeom really was. Then suddenly there he stood, perfect as ever.

Jaebeom stood meters away from you and Jinyoung, the bodies of the other patrons crossed your paths as the two of you just stared at each other. He looked just as stunning as that night, that one fateful night. His gaze is soft on yours as if to ask if you were okay. You cannot answer him, still in too much shock. 

Until Jaebeom looks to Jinyoung, your connected hands, and then finally you, he smiles warmly. Little did you know that this is exactly what Jaebeom wanted to see for you. Your happiness above all else. To others, what the two of you shared could easily be written off as just some other one night stand, but he knew it was so much more. He cared for you in ways he never thought he would be able to feel for another person. And so he was happy, if he couldn’t be the one holding your hand in this gallery, he was glad you had someone to take his place. You deserved as much.

A tear finally escapes your eye as you continue to gaze at Jaebeom’s sincere expression, laughing slightly you brush the tear away. You felt no anger, no embarrassment. Because what Jaebeom said was right, for that night you spent together, he too was your own muse. The spark you needed at that moment. You needed him then just as much as he did. 

Without leaving his eyes, you bow your head slightly, doing something you realized you never did that night. You thanked him. He raised a wine glass in recognition. Then he was gone, swallowed into the sea of people who would never know his true identity. 

“I didn’t know photography moved you that much,” Jinyoung says to you while wiping your tears away, a look of concern etched into his features.

You laugh, dropping your head bashfully before raising your eyes again to look at Jinyoung. You were so content with the way you began to live your life since meeting Jaebeom. For so long you had deprived yourself of the one thing that should have mattered the most, your happiness.

It was fate for you and Jaebeom to meet each other that night, but you knew it was only meant for that one night. Jaebeom was the trigger for you to stop living inside the constrictive box you created for yourself. You felt inspiration more than ever through your art, which in turn greatly improved your abilities. You also finally allowed yourself love, and to share that love with someone who genuinely wanted you. 

Now with Jinyoung, you had never felt more at peace in not only yourself but your life. Rising to his height you capture Jinyoung’s lips with yours. He smiles against you and reciprocates your affection. This is who you were meant to be with tonight, and for every night thereafter.

[hysterialevi]

Vargr - An AC: Valhalla Fanfic

Fanfic summary: Sigurd finds Eivor after a vicious wolf attack and brings him to safety.

Point of view: third-person

Fanfic idea by @molstkiwi​​ (thank you for the suggestion!)

This story is also on AO3

SOMEWHERE IN NORWAY

NIGHTTIME

He could hear them. 

He could still hear their screams.

Even though the gods had carried him far away from the mayhem wrought by Kjtove’s hand, Sigurd could still hear the hurricane of distant shrieks that clung onto the air, and traveled endlessly into the night’s abyss.

There was a line of fire sitting just above the horizon, and even though his vision had been impaired by a disorienting blur, Sigurd could see the longhouse crumbling into ash as the flames of Múspellsheimr itself ravaged the very bones of its structure.

As for Eivor -- the boy was nowhere to be seen.

He was thrown off their horse when Kjtove’s men shot it down, and much to the boy’s dismay, Sigurd had landed on a crown of rocks just above the frozen lake that he himself had been trapped on.

There was no one else to rescue them at the moment, and it didn’t seem like anyone was coming anytime soon.

“...E-Eivor...?” Sigurd murmured weakly, writhing in the snow. “...Are you there...?”

He planted a firm hand against the rock, trying to push himself up. His head was still throbbing from the bash he endured earlier, and despite his attempts to ignore it, an intense pain now battered his skull, racking his brain like the strike of a club.

“...Eivor...” Sigurd repeated, his voice scraping against his throat. “...Where... where are you...?”

Rolling onto his back, the boy turned around to face the vast blanket of darkness hovering above him as a string of turquoise lights rippled through the void, painting the land below in a shimmering haze.

He could see a lone raven circling in the air like a messenger sent from the Allfather himself, and in the midst of all the different sounds that clouded his ears, Sigurd heard the creature let out a single caw, crying out to him as if it were beckoning the boy to follow.

He didn’t know what was going on, or if Eivor was even still alive, but for some reason, Sigurd felt a newfound panic gripping his chest, causing his body to stir once more.

“...Eivor...!” He said as loudly as he could, “...say something...!”

Contrary to what he expected, someone actually responded this time.

“Sigurd...!” A familiar voice cried out, followed by the distant growling of a wolf. “Help me!”

A sharp scream suddenly pierced through the shadows, shattering the stillness of the night.

Sigurd jerked his head up in alarm, realizing what was going on.

“Eivor!” He exclaimed, forcing himself up from the rock. “Hold on!”

Practically throwing himself over the edge, Sigurd instantly climbed off the small cliff he had landed on and hurriedly made his way down to the bed of ice, desperately trying to reach his younger brother.

The boy had gone silent ever since he let out that scream, and considering how there was now a pool of blood spreading out from underneath him, Sigurd assumed he had already been mauled -- if not killed.

“Stay back!” He shouted as he descended onto the ice, trying to lure the wolf’s attention away from Eivor. “Leave him alone!”

Flicking his eyes across lake, Sigurd spotted an axe lying on the ground and immediately darted for it, doing his best not to strain the ice beneath his feet.

He wrapped his hand around the hilt and hauled the weighty weapon up from the ground, slamming it in the wolf’s direction as the blade went slicing through its fur.

“Get away from him!” Sigurd yelled, raising his arm as he prepared to deliver another blow.

Just before he could cut the wolf down however, a storm of ravens suddenly soared through the air and targeted the beast with a relentless hostility, forcing the wild creature to retreat into the woods. 

He didn’t know where on earth these ravens had come from, or why they decided to help, but they seemed to share his protective nature and scared the wolf away from the fallen child, giving Sigurd the chance he needed to save him.

“It’s okay, Eivor...” he whispered softly, sliding the axe into his belt. “Just hold on. I’m going to get you somewhere safe. You’re going to be alright. Just please, hold on...!”

Slipping his arms underneath the boy, Sigurd lifted Eivor into his embrace and quickly rushed him away from the brutal scene, not wanting to run into any more of Kjotve’s men. 

He had no idea where his father was, or if he had survived the raid, but just based on the muffled shouts he heard echoing in the distance, Sigurd knew Kjtove’s clan had begun to spread out into the wilds -- possibly to search for survivors -- and were rapidly nearing his location.

“Shit...!” He cursed under his breath, bringing Eivor into the woods. 

Weaving his way through the cluster of trees, Sigurd trudged through the thick snow as his boots sunk into its depths and slowed with its persistent clutch, wearing him out more and more with every move.

The orange glow of nearby torches could be seen painting the white bark of the woods around him, and in the beams of its light, Sigurd saw the menacing shadows of Kjtove’s men slithering along the uneven surface of the trees, dancing like ripples in a lake.

At first, they didn’t appear to notice the boy, but after an unfortunate step on a fallen twig, they suddenly heard an abrupt snap, causing them to jolt their heads in his direction.

“Over there!” One of them alerted, pointing into the forest. “There’s someone in the woods!”

Picking up his pace, Sigurd instantly broke into a sprint upon hearing the man’s cries and charged through the seemingly endless labyrinth of trees, swiveling around the plethora of arrows that came flying towards him.

The light of their torches was growing brighter with each passing second, and once Sigurd reached the edge of the forest’s hold, he found himself running out into the open, leaving him completely vulnerable to their attacks.

“Get the horses, you fools!” A man ordered. “Don’t let him escape!”

Tightening his grip on Eivor, Sigurd mustered as much strength as his body would allow him and bolted across the frozen fields, fleeing for his life at a pace that he didn’t know he was capable of.

Meanwhile, Kjtove’s men fervently galloped towards the boy from behind and trampled their way through the barren meadows, causing the earth to tremble underneath the strength of their mounts.

A hurricane of snow billowed in the raiders’ wake, and as they chased Sigurd into the uncharted corners of Norway’s wilderness, a flock of ravens began gathering above them, gliding along with the wispy movement of the Northern Lights.

“Don’t give up now!” They shouted. “We’ve almost got him!”

Whipping their reigns with a firm tug, Kjotve’s men urged their horses to go faster as puffs of mist rose from the animals’ flared nostrils, spreading into the ice-cold wind that was currently searing into their flesh.

In the meantime, Sigurd continued with his journey and frantically searched the area for any means of escape, only to spot a bridge sitting quietly in the distance. It spanned across a wide river that divided two large rock formations, and had nothing more than a few strings of rope to hold it in place.

It was narrow, rickety, and weathered with age. If Sigurd could get across, it’d be the perfect opportunity for him to trap Kjotve’s men on the other side.

He decided to go for it.

Ignoring the intense ache that now gripped onto his legs, Sigurd clenched his jaw in pain and rushed towards the bridge, practically levitating off the ground with how fast his feet were moving. Kjotve’s men were no more than a few meters behind him now, and if he didn’t get to the bridge in time, they’d soon cut him down like they did with the rest of Eivor’s clan.

Racing towards the edge of the cliff, Sigurd didn’t even spare a second thought before sprinting across the bridge’s loosened planks of wood, causing the structure to wobble under his weight. 

By now, some of Kjotve’s men had dismounted their horses due to the small width of the bridge’s path, but based on the fact that they were unsheathing their weapons instead of chasing after him, Sigurd realized that they were planning to cut him down first.

“...No, no, no, no...!” He muttered to himself, making haste for the opposite side.

But it was too late.

Just as Sigurd began to step off the bridge, he suddenly felt the wood beneath his feet collapsing into the emptiness below, urging him to throw Eivor onto the solid ground ahead of him.

Meanwhile, Sigurd’s heart froze in fear as he plummeted towards the raging river, causing him to let out a panicked shout. There was a multitude of jagged rocks sitting in the water, and as he watched Eivor’s unconscious body vanish into the distance, he could’ve sworn he saw the gates of Valhalla themselves, waiting to welcome him.

Right before he could fall to his demise however, Sigurd suddenly felt something wrapping itself around his arm, holding him in place. He was suspended in the air like a fish on a hook, and upon gazing upwards into the illuminated sky, Sigurd saw the stark silhouette of a man holding onto his wrist.

A breathy chuckle escaped his savior’s lips, leading the boy to instantly recognize his voice.

“I got you, you crazy boy...!” Styrbjorn called out. “Come here.”

Letting out a strained grunt, the battle-worn king steadily pulled his son up from death’s embrace and hauled him onto the ground next to Eivor, sighing in relief once he was safe.

It looked like the rest of Styrbjorn’s clan had already regrouped with their leader, and judging by the small crowds of people scattered around the region, Sigurd assumed that most of them had survived.

“Father...!” The boy exclaimed, panting out of fatigue. “I... Kjtove’s men... they... they almost...”

Styrbjorn placed a comforting hand on Sigurd’s shoulder, looking him in the eye. “Breathe, boy. You’re safe now. You have nothing to fear.”

His son gestured to Eivor. “But... Eivor...”

Following Sigurd’s gaze, Styrbjorn’s eyes widened in concern when he finally noticed the wounds embedded into the child’s neck, leading him to cradle Eivor in his hold.

“Blood of Tyr...!” He whispered in shock. “What happened to him?”

Sigurd crawled next to his father. “A wolf attacked him after we fled the village. I tried to help him, but I... I was too late. It already bit his throat. He could die, father! We... we need to--”

Styrbjorn held up a reassuring hand, observing Eivor’s injuries. “--Worry not, my son. We will help him. He’s not beyond saving just yet.”

“...And his parents? What about them?”

The king’s expression sagged with grief. “...They’re both dead, Sigurd. Kjotve slaughtered them in cold blood just before you arrived. I’m afraid Eivor is the only one left.”

Sigurd stared at the man in disbelief. “...What? It’s just him? There’s no one else?”

Styrbjorn shook his head. “Not that we know of. But let us not dwell on that. There will be plenty of time for mourning later. Right now, we need to focus on getting Eivor to safety and mending these wounds.” The man stood up from the ground, carrying Eivor in his arms. “Thank you for saving him, Sigurd. You did well today.”

The boy remained seated on the ground, still worn out from the chase. “I haven’t saved him yet. Just, please... make sure he’ll be okay. He’s... he’s like a brother to me.”

Styrbjorn nodded in understanding. “I know, son. We’ll bring him to Svala. She will take good care of him. You have my word. Now, come along. We should get out of this treacherous place whilst we have the chance. Kjotve’s men still lurk in the shadows.”

He turned to the rest of his clan, raising his voice so they could hear him. “Everyone! It’s time to move out! Stick close, and keep your eyes sharp.”

Standing up from the snow, Sigurd mirrored his father’s actions and followed the trail laid out before them, gladly removing himself from the threat of Kjotve’s clan. Every fiber in his body wanted nothing more than to collapse into the comfort of a warm bed, but for the time being, he was just relieved that he had been able to get Eivor away from that wolf.

Part of him feared that the boy had died already when he first saw him. He was just... lying there. Like a discarded doll. Lifeless, defenseless, robbed of everyone he loved most in life. The gods had been cruel with Eivor’s fate today, and Sigurd was not eager to tell him all that transpired once he awoke.

For now though, he simply kept his mind on the task at hand. If Eivor was going to survive, he’d need Sigurd to be at his best. And he did not intend to let him down.

“Sigurd!” A man called out, drawing the boy out of his thoughts. 

“Gunnar,” Sigurd replied to the blacksmith. “You made it.”

“Indeed. One of Kjotve’s rats nearly planted his blade into my heart, but by the grace of the gods, I live to fight for another day. Though, I’m more concerned about you. How do you fare, little drengr? You seem distressed.”

Sigurd brought his gaze back to Eivor, watching in worry as Styrbjorn carried his limp body away.

“I fear for Eivor’s life, Gunnar. He may not be dead yet, but what if he dies before we get him to Svala? He doesn’t have much time left.”

The blacksmith patted Sigurd’s back, attempting to calm the boy’s nerves.

“Do not underestimate Eivor, Sigurd. He is young, yes, but he has the blood of warriors running through his veins. He is stronger than he looks. You know this.”

Sigurd didn’t share Gunnar’s confidence. “But he’s just a child. A boy. Braver men have fallen to the kiss of a wolf in the past. What makes you so certain that he’ll survive?”

“Because the Nornir gave you the chance to save him,” the blacksmith answered. “You had half of Kjotve’s clan chasing you through these woods, and yet, against all odds, you made it out alive. Why else would the Nornir spare you like that, if not to save Eivor’s life? That boy has always had the gods’ favor. They will not let him die without a fight, and neither will you.”

Sigurd took Gunnar’s words to heart. “Well, that’s one thing you’re right about.”

The blacksmith smiled warmly. “Do not fear, my prince. Eivor will pull through. You’ll see. It will take more than an oath-breaking leech like Kjotve to bring him down.”

Gunnar picked up his pace, walking ahead of the boy. “Come, now. We shouldn’t linger. Eivor’s life teeters on the brink of death, and whether or not he is pulled back from the edge depends on us. Especially on you.”

Sigurd shrugged. “How much can I do? I’m no healer.”

The other man chuckled. “You mean, aside from rescuing him from a wolf and escaping the clutches of Kjotve’s raiders? You may not be a healer like Svala is, Sigurd, but you have your own ways of saving people. And that’s why you’ll make a good king someday. I can tell.”

Gunnar beckoned the boy. “But enough about that. This night has been long, and we have many dead to send off to the corpse hall. Your father is going to be a busy man in the days to come, and he will need you at his side. ...As will Eivor.”

[ldrmas]

Part 2

A Pirates Life for Me: A Beetlejuice Pirates of the Caribbean Part 2 Part 1 Here - https://ldrmas.tumblr.com/post/647682697685237760/part-1 Character sheet for those who have questions -  https://ldrmas.tumblr.com/post/647688946637324288/pirates-characters

-  Please leave a comment or a reblogg telling me what you think. Again if there is dialogue that is a repeat of the movie I am not taking claim to it, I’m just admitting I’m not smart enough to come up with something better. Obliviously this whole plot and lines do not belong to me, they belong to the mouse, I’m just commandeering them for the story, savvy?  But still enjoy, me hearties! -

~

“Come here, boy!”

“Come on please.”

“I have a nice juicy bone for ya.”

“Come here.”

Beej rolled his eyes as he leaned against one of the walls of his cell. One of his arms was across his chest while the other was what he was using as a cushion since the stone of the prison was unforgiving with its icy bite and he had already been cold enough today. “You lot can do that forever and the dog will never move.”

“Forgive us for not giving up and resort’ng ourselves to the gallows ‘ust yet.” One of the prisoners scoffed before they went back to calling for the mutt who held a large ring of keys within his jaws. Beej huffed at them before settling back against the wall. He couldn’t bother with them, though he did wish for some peace and quiet so he could think of an escape of some sort. He wasn’t looking forward to the gallows either, not that the lads behind him had to know that.

~

“There you go, Miss.” Barbara said as she slid the bed warmer under the several blankets that were tucked over the lady of the house. Lydia had been escorted home after Commodore Strong had asked her for the millionth time if she was alright. A bath had been immediately drawn for her and only when she had four cups of tea in her did her father cease his fussing. It was when he left the manor to return to the fort, did she feel that she could finally breathe.

“It was quite the day for you for sure.” Her maid went on and Lydia put down her book as she leaned back against the pillows. She merely smiled as the day flashed about her thoughts before she hummed.

“Well truth be told I suspected the Commodore to propose, but I still wasn’t entirely prepared for it.” Literally and figuratively, apparently. The more she thought of it, the more she was convinced that her body had been waiting for him to ask the question before she had lost consciousness, just so she wouldn’t have to answer. It made her laugh as she was sure that wasn’t the case, but she couldn’t help wishing it was just that.

“Miss, I meant you being apprehended by that pirate, it sounds dreadful.” Barbara added as she shuffled along the blankets making sure they were secure around her Misses. Lydia’s face fell as she suddenly remembered that she had indeed been in the arms of a pirate today.

“Oh…” Lyds commented as she nodded recalling the roughened hands pressing into her skin. His honey tone of mockery echoing in her pierced ear. Then those eyes. The description she had read about had failed to mention how haunting and beau- “Yes, it was …it was dreadful.” It wouldn’t do to finish that thought it was better to let the thoughts go.

“But the Commodore proposed!” Barbara gushed excitedly. “Now that’s a smart match, Miss, if it’s not too bold to say.”

“It is…” Lydia replied as she settled against the bed, but her eyes didn’t hold any excitement, nor did any part of her. She sighed as she realized she would eventually have to give Berthold an answer, if she could even figure out an answer to give. “He’s a …well he’s what every woman should imagine to marry.”

“Well, if I may,” Barbara hummed as she double checked that the lantern was good for the night.  “…that Dominic Orion, he’s a fine man who fancy’s you as well.”

“Ha,” Lydia giggled as she rolled her eyes and good naturally shook her head. She closed her book losing disinterest in it as she fixed her maid with a dispassionate gaze. “Yes, Dominic is kind, but I don’t feel what he feels for me. He’s more my brother than anything. If those two are my choices of who is supposed to take my hand, then I rather not make the choice at all.”

“Yes, Miss.” Barbara nodded letting her misses have her thoughts despite how innocent they may be. She would have to marry at some time, and it might do her better to marry the fellow whom she considered her brother than a man she had no feelings for at all. It wasn’t her place to say so instead she left the room after bidding the lady a final goodnight. 

Once she was alone Lydia sighed and plucked at the gold coin she was still wearing. She fiddled with it as she recalled the pirate had an interest in it. Why? Why did he care about a thing that was surely small compared to untold treasures he had seen in his life? He had looked he might have ripped it right off her neck had he been given the chance. She didn’t understand it and that made her all the more curious about what had happened today.

She suddenly resided from her thoughts as she realized the light was flickering. Her eyes traveled to her lantern that was indeed filled with enough oil for the night but as she squeezed the pendant in her hand the flame went out as if someone had purposely blown it out. There was no explanation for it and the air ceased in her lungs as an eeriness fell over not only her but the whole of Port Royal.

Well, that couldn’t be good.

~

The Commodore and Governor Deetz slowly walked along the walls of the fort. The Governor had returned for he wished to let Bert know that Lydia was indeed alright, also to continue talking with him for he hadn’t many chances at the party earlier that afternoon.

“Has Lydia given you an answer yet?” Charles casually asked with a gentle smile.

“No, not yet.” Bert replied as he sighed but returned the smile to the older man.

“Well, it’s been a difficult day for her. This ghastly weather is the fitting ending to such a day, don’t you agree?”

“It is bleak, indeed.” Bert nodded as he took a moment to fall back, glancing out to the dark water.

“What is that?” They both heard a faint whistle not instantly understanding what it was, but Bert jerked the Governor to the ground as a cannon ball struck the fort just behind him. He completely covered Charles’s body with his own and only when it was safe, he sat up again calling out orders to return fire.

“It can’t be…” Beej gasped as he jerked up from the perch in his cell, jumping to the barred window and looking down into the Cove of Port Royal. He was thankful that the window had a perfect view and his lips curled high as he was able to make out the black ship that nearly blended into the ocean that was colored coal from the dark night.

“My Kali…” He whispered as he watched the ship sent cannon shot after shot to the town and the fort.

“It’s the Kali!” One of the prisoners asked before he whimpered the name as he heard the Captain talk about the ship. They didn’t have a window like Beej did but there was nothing from stopping them from hearing the repeated cannon fire. “I’ve…I heard stories, she’s been preying on settlements ‘n ships for nearly ten years. Never leaves any survivors.”

“Ask yourself this, mate, where the stories come from if there be no survivors?” Beej mocked as he reluctantly took his eyes off the ship for just a moment to acknowledge the idiot prisoner behind him.

“Huh…”

~

Port Royal never stood a chance as the town was blasted to bits from the cannon fire. It hit every building, every structure, everything that was put together was blown apart. Men, woman, children scattered crying out and screaming into the dark night hoping to just possibly survive.

The cries of the town echoed all the way up to the fort where the navy was returning fire.

“Stash the muzzle flash. Stephen, more cartridges on the double man.” Bert commanded, before he stepped to Charles��s side touching his shoulder. “Governor, barricade yourself in my office.”

They ducked as a blast interrupted them before Bert growled. “That’s an order.” Charles gasped in deep fear but then nodded, knowing there wasn’t any way he could argue. He moved across the fort taking refugee in the office reluctantly.

Then it got worse as on the shoreline several boats filled with pirates stormed upon the sandy beach. They were here to raid pillage and destroy while two were on a special mission to find what their captain had demanded. A small shiny, invaluable to pirates despite its size.

Pirates flooded the streets and the ship circled around in the cove until it was further out and raining cannon fire down upon the fort. The people that weren’t lucky enough to get away from the damage of the cannon balls, they were attacked by blades of the pirates.

Dominic ran out into the streets grabbing axes and two swords from the shop, hoping to help. He threw an axe at a pirate that was chasing a screaming woman, it lodged into his back killing him. The pirate crumpled, giving the woman a chance to get away, Dom grabbed the axe before he jumped back into the fray.

Lydia ran out to the balcony of the house seeing the ship and the fort locked in an impasse of exchanging cannons neither willing to give up. She gasped as a lot of pirates stormed at the manor’s gates, having no difficulty with throwing it open and rushing to the door of the home. She ran back inside just as the pirates were knocking at the door. One of the butlers was walking across the foyer and sadly, just as Lydia screamed at him ‘Don’t!’, he already had and a gun went off. The butler landed back deader than a nail and Lydia shrieked at watching him die.

“Up there.” One of the pirates pointed at her. Lydia instantly took off for her room slamming the door closed and locking it. She was about to run into her main sleeping quarters when she ran into Barbara, they both screamed while her maid clutched onto her.

“The-They’ve come to kidnap you, Miss!”

“What?”

“You’re the governor’s daughter.” Lydia’s eyes widened but she jumped as the door rattled, the pirates were about to get through. “They haven’t seen you, so hide and the chance you get run to the fort.”

Then Lyds turned running back along the room just as she did the pirates broke through the barrier tumbling into the seating room and just catching the girl running into the next space. The shorter one gave chase but as he came to the threshold Lydia slammed the bedwarmer right into his face. Barbara ran through the door as she figured she wouldn’t get another chance.

The taller pirate captured the warmer’s handle before Lydia could swing it at him. They struggled until Lydia pulled the mechanism and hot embers fell upon the pirate like black rain. He screamed and jerked about as she dropped the heavy iron object then ran past them both.

“Hot, it’s hot. She burned me!”

“Come on!” The other pirate pulled him so that they both could give chase. One chased her down the stairs while the other jumped the landing trapping her upon the steps. There were other pirates about the home ransacking it for anything of value. A cannon was shot aimed perfectly at the house and it soared through the air hitting the nameless pirate and piles of gold in his arms square on. It was enough to weaken the support of the chandelier, so Lydia bolted passed one of the pirates as it crashed upon the floor, running into the dinning room.

She barred the door and instantly grabbed at the swords plaque that was above the fireplace, only it just decoration. The swords she hoped to use as defense wouldn’t budge so her head snapped around the room and then dove for a hiding place just as the pirates kicked passed her improve lock.

The two marched into the room one pointed at the opening window figuring they would have to chase her through the gardens yet the shorter one grabbed his arm and shook his head.

“We know you’re here, lassie.” He called out to the space. He slowly looked about the room while his friend remained quiet besides him. “Come out and we won’t hurt’cha. You have something that belongs to us, Lass. It calls to us.”

Lydia glanced down at the necklace. This. This thing brought them here. Why what was going on. “The gold calls to us.” Her hiding space went dark and she snapped her gaze up as the pirate was grinning right at here through the crack of the door.

“There ya are, Lass.” The doors opened and Lydia dropped the necklace as one word fell from her lips.

“Parley!”

The shorter of the pirates had pointed a gun to her hoping to shoot her but paused at the word. He glanced at his companion, but his gaze quickly went back to the lass. “How do you-”

“I invoke the right of parley!” Lydia repeated as she stood defiantly against the two, her palms shaking at her sides. “According to the Code of the Brethren composed by pirates Bartholomew and Morgan, you are now to take me before your captain.”

“I know the Code!” The smaller one growled as he was still confused on how a lady such as herself could recite the basic rules of the code as well as an old sea salt.

“Drop your weapon, then.” Lyds added as she glanced at the barrel of the pistol he was holding. “You know as well as I do, you can not harm me until the parley is complete.”

“To hell with the Code, Poppy, let’s just-”

“We must honor the Code, Vince, ain’t that right, Lassie? You want to go to the captain, fine, then you’ll come with us without a fuss.” Lydia complied as they grabbed at her and she could only hope they wouldn’t be hit by cannon fire before they made it to the ship.

~

“Watch out!” Beej yelled as he jumped from the window to the far end of the cell shoving his arms over his head. A cannon burst through the wall of the jail, shattering the stone wall as if it were simply paper, debris scattering like cockroaches along the floor.  

Beej shook out his head, the explosion left a deep ringing in his brain, but dread filled him as he noticed the position of the new crater. The prisoners in the next cell over hollered in joy as one by one they climbed out until there was one remaining.

“You have me sympathies, mate. Better luck next time.” He teased before joining the others and escaped into the night. Beetle sighed as he came up to the small part of the crater on his side of the bars, there was no escaping for him. He couldn’t even put his head through the hole. It was then he noticed the bone on the ground and he rolled his eyes before grabbing at it.

He had to try after all.

“Come on, boy.” He whistled while flicking the bone back and forth. The dog got to his feet coming over to him. “That’s right, it’s just the two of us now. You and old Beetle. Come on, closer. That’s it, come on, you stupid mingy mangled cur.”

The dog was just out of reach, so close but so far, before there was a loud clash at the top of the stairs. The dog then ran off deeper into the jail and Beetle cussed as he couldn’t grab him let alone the keys. His eyes then jumped to the stairs as there was more crashing, then a soldiers body was falling down the steps, and not moving once it came to a stop. There was however two walking down after him, two fellows he knew all too well.  

“Hey, Dan, look who we have here.” Leonard sneered as he strolled up to the bars. “Captain Beetle Kreaton.” He spat at the ground barely missing Beej’s arm who glared up at him from the other side of the iron cage.

“Last time we saw you, you were by your lonesome stuck on that godforsaken island, shrieking out like a woman as we sailed away.” Dan chuckled as he eyed the pirate with a grin that belonged on the devil himself. “Things haven’t improved since then have they, Kreaton.”

“Ya know, funny you should mention god, fellows.” Beej hummed as he dropped the bone before pulling himself up to his full height. “Because it’s not someone you’d be meeting soon, the deepest circle of hell is reserved for lot like you, mutineers and traitors.”

A hand shoved through the bars slamming upon his throat, near crushing his esophagus. That wasn’t the worst of it though, the arm that was now squeezing his skin was in the light of the moon and was nothing but bone. Bone and torn up fabric of the man’s otherwise intact jacket. Beej’s eyes widened in slight fright before he hummed.

“So, the curse is real.” He gasped as the skeleton fingers squeezed the skin of his neck. “Interesting.”

“You couldn’t even begin to understand hell, bastard.” Leonard sneered before he jerked his hand against the ex-captain’s neck once again then the two turned rushing back up the stairs from once they came.  

“That’s truly interesting.” He hummed as he was alone once again.

~

She was rushed through the streets. Lydia had saw a glimpse of Dominic fighting among the several citizens but the pirate continued on to lead her through the streets and so she couldn’t tell if he saw her. She was guided to a long boat where they held not only her but countless arrays of goods they had obtained from the town. The pirates didn’t touch her other than the smaller one keeping a crushing grip upon her arm. He warned them all not to bother her since she had shouted parley.  

They pulled her up upon the ship. They helped her crouch under the gunwale and take her first steps on board. There was so much going on, men running about, the echoing of the cannons in the air, it was madness. She could only gaze up at a man on the stern castle deck draped in a coat of ashen gray and a large hat perched upon his head decorated with unrecognizable feathers. A capuchin monkey swung on some random rigging before perching itself upon the Captain’s shoulder. He was surly the captain and who she would be negotiating with.

She was all confirmed in her thoughts as the two men who had guided her this entire way began dragging her to the stairs, only to be halted by a towering man with eyes of deep angry blue.

“We agreed, no captives.” He spat glancing at Lydia as if she were a thorn in his side.

“She invoked parley with the Capt’n.” Poppy barked as he tried to push past Sandy Marte, but the Lady got out of his grip, stepping closer to the First Mate instead.

“I’m here to ne-” A resounding slap echoed over the entire ambiance, silencing it and all the men stopped what they were doing to watch. Lydia yelped at the sting, covering the impact with her palm. She wanted to say something further, yet words died on her tongue as her eyes widened in slight fear.

“You’d speak when you are spoken too!” Sandy growled keeping his hand up just as a threat to hit her again before a hand soundly landed upon his forearm and long unkept nails dug into his skin.  

“And you...” Sandy made to flinch and gulp as he listened to that chilling voice. “…will do good to remember that no harm is to come to those under the protection of parley.”

“Aye, sir.” The First Mate agreed retreating his sun kissed arm and backing up among the other lads, allowing the Captain to step forward. Lydia held her ground standing as straight and proud as any noble should. She would not let her fear show, she couldn’t. She eased her hand down as the imposing man stepped closer. He looked her over, down his pointed nose with his eyes of earth brown sweeping about her completely, as if he could read her very soul. His mouth crooked up into a disturbing smile once he looked back into her own hazel eyes.

“My apologies, Miss.” He said in more of a whisper, as if the whole crew wasn’t listening to their every word.

“Captain Brightman…” Lydia stated the name slowly, showing him the respect he deserved, despite what she thought of him, yet there was a growl to her tone as she continued. “I am here to negotiate the cessation of hostilities against Port Royal.”

“There be many long words in that, Miss.” The Captain quirked his lips before he began chuckling at her, in fact the whole crew was chuckling under their breaths. “We be humble pirates, so one more time, what it be that you actually want?”

“I want you to leave then never come back.” She out right demanded, never once breaking her gaze from the captain even as now the whole ship broke out into amused laughter. Her fists curled at her sides, doing right to keep her trembling at bay. She wished to silence them all, but she knew it be better to ignore them. Her focus had to be solely on the Captain, or she would lose her nerve.

“I am disinclined to acquiesce to such a request.” Brightman at last replied, his smile blooming into a full grimy toothed smirk, especially as he hunched by leaning forward right into her personal space when her face pinched in confusion. “Otherwise known as ‘No’.”

“Right, then.”  She jerked the necklace off her neck then stormed over to the railing of the ship. Her hand shot out the chain dangling from her closed fist before she turned her eyes back on the captain with a glare. “I’ll drop it.”  

“That small bit matters nothing to us while our hold overflows with swag,” Brightman casually chuckled as he moved closer to her eyeing the pendant with disdain though his face fell as his eyes returned to hers. “Why bother with the threat, Lass?”

“You’ve been searching for this, have you not?” Lydia questioned as she glanced about the pirates, knowing they needed this but wondering why they weren’t stopping her. “I know I’m not mistaken, you are the pirates that I saw after you all attacked the ship eight years ago when I crossed from England. I’d know this ship anywhere.”

“Oh, do you now?” The Captain taunted while he hid his surprise. Lydia glared at him as he seemed to be mocking her. She could easily play his game if need be. She sighed glancing over the pirates once more before shrugging.

“Very well, if it’s worthless then there is no point to keep it.” The necklace chain lengthened slightly in her hand, the coin slid closer to the water. It was an instant reaction. Every single person other than her jerked forward reaching out for the gold and her. Brightman had the reaction she strived for the most, he yelled out for her to stop, the desperate ‘no’ falling from his chapped lips sent a pleased smile upon her own.  

He then laughed before gliding closer to her not stopping until he was invading her space once again. She pulled her hand back clutching the coin in her palm now. She made not to move back as his eyes swept about her again as if she be a puzzle he couldn’t understand. This close she could tell his eyes had a hint of yellow mixing in with the white, but it didn’t deter from the coldness of his brown irises boring into her. “You got a name, Miss?”

“Lydia…” She caught herself from saying her true name and dropped her head in a bow. “Lydia Orion, I’m a maid amid the governor’s staff.”

They should have realized that she wasn’t a maid by the state of her dress alone, but they were too focused on her name. “Miss Orion.” Brightman echoed so that all of his lads could hear the name as true as a bell. Murmurs burst from the pirates, all them now sporting smirks or grins, ones they knew to be filled with deep relief. Lydia pinched her brows as she heard the two pirates that had escorted her here in the first place.

“Doomed Doomie.” The shorter one had said to the other, who slowly turned about to gaze at her with more intrigue than before.

“Now,” Lydia snapped her eyes back to the Captain who was once again smirking at her and ranking his eyes over her completely. “how does a maid come to acquire such a thing? Perhaps passed down from a family member?”

“Are you inquiring I have stolen it, because I have not.” She questioned in reply. It seemed to be the answer he was willing to accept because his smirk fell into a simple grin as he held out his hand.

“Alright then, hand it over, and you have my word, we’ll put this town to our rudder and ne’er come back.” She reluctantly handed over the shiny, easing it into his hand. He passed it to the monkey who had been upon his shoulder the entire time. The monkey gripped the necklace before jumping up and disappearing along the rat lines. When she could no longer see the creature, her eyes went back to him before they settled in a harsh glare.

“We have a bargain?” The Captain said nothing just turned about on his boots nodding to his first mate. The man instantly called out the orders for those who were still on shore to come back and for the guns to cease fire. The Captain was walking away from her, but she was immediately at his heels calling out for him to take her to shore.

“You have to take me back for according to the code-”

“Firstly,” He barked as he turned about catching her against him as she bumped against his suddenly stopped body. She almost yelped as his body was unnaturally cold and his voice was mockingly ringing in her ear. “You didn’t request to be returned to shore, so I don’t have to do nothing. Secondly, for the code to apply you must be a pirate and you are no such thing, then lastly, Lassie, the code be more guidelines, not official rules. So welcome aboard the Kali, Miss Orion.” He released her and she stumbled back into the arms of the two pirates who had cornered her in her own home. They dragged her away to the Captain’s cabin, locking her within the room before joining their fellow mates to help with making sail. Captain Brightman stood at the helm where his companion jumped back upon his shoulder and he held the necklace once again.

After all these years, they had the final piece and even better the blood to be paid, once they cleared of this port they would finally break the curse upon them all. He shuddered as he guided the Kali out of the cove and a smirked curled his lips high. Oh yes, he could nearly taste it, freedom at long last.

~  

[willadisastercry]

Keep Moving Part 1

tw: depicton of explosions, broken bones, head trauma, vomiting, collapsed building, being trapped.

Keith is on his self sacrificing bullshit again and no one is surprised. The only difference is this time be can’t extricate himself from the terrible situation he very much asked for before it goes horribly wrong. And it just continues to get worse. **also a part 2 has been written but not finished and I may cut it down so there is at least some closure... might also just finish it but willa makes no promises**

“We’ve cleared the red zone, Matt!” Pidge reported breathlessly into her coms on direct line to her brother and the other rebel space crafts that joined them on their mission.

“Copy that,” she said, slowing her sprint to a jog, “they’re waiting until we make some more ground to start dropping their explosives.”

“I don’t know how soon we’ll be on the move, we’ve got two fleets of sentries headed our way,” Keith reminded.

“We’ll just have to make as much distance between ourselves and the death zone as possible before everything goes boom, unless Keith is afraid he can’t keep up with us...”

Keith just stared at Lance blankly, struggling to accept that he did in fact just say what he thought he said.

“Obviously, but the issue is--” 

Lance never got to know what the actual issue was because before Pidge could tell him, he was face down on the floor, butt in the air still smoldering from where he was shot by a sentry. 

The first fleet had caught up to them.

“Bullseye...” Hunk said nearly crying from holding in his laughter.

“Shit!” Keith watched as the fleet descended on them quickly and started shooting at what seemed like a never ending stream of purple and metal.

“owWWWW-”

“Lance, shut up and start shooting.” Keith ordered, hauling the taller boy up by his neck guard.

There was little cover in the hallway and so the paladins had to quickly manuver between blocking the sentries’ barrage with their shields and engaging their bayards to take a few out at a time. Lance had recovered from his owie and was now dropping sentries from behind the cover of Hunk’s legs.

“We need to keep moving!” Pidge urged, taking a couple steps back.

“You guys keep going, I’ll use my sword to push them back,” Keith offered.

“No! We don’t need to split up, just keep moving back I have an idea.”

They all walked backwards slowly still firing shots and deflecting hits while Pidge activated her bayard and then before they knew it she had it wrapped around the upper portion of the nearest sentry and was swinging it accross the width of the hallway, clobbering several of them into each other and successfully congesting their procession.

“Damn Pidge...”

“Keep it moving Paladins!” Allura echoed over the coms.

“Ya know, sometimes I’m terrified of you Pidge,” Lance mused as the four of them took off in a dead sprint down the narrow corridor.

“Don’t know... if I should be flattered... or offended...” she huffed, struggling to keep up with the other three.

“It’s a compliment!”

“Yeah, well who wouldn’t be scared of five feet of pure--”

“Careful... Hunk.”

“... intelligence?”

Keith laughed to himself at his teammate’s menial banter. It lightened the tense atmosphere of battle and action of which he was mostly really greatful for, except when they needed to be serious and Lance was still posing hypotheticals about conceiving with a space mermaid.

But it was his lack of partcipation in the conversation that alerted him to the  pounding of metal on metal somewhere around them of which was very odd.  They had just lost the last fleet and were supposed to be nowhere near the second, but when he slowed down to asses as the others passed by the opening of another corridor, a shot from a sentry’s gun nearly took Pidge’s helmet off. And then before anyone could even react, the hallway they were in flooded with sentries, affectively seperating Keith from the rest of his team.

The paladins got to work quickly, but they were soon overwhelmed. 

And then Keith heard the fleet from before gaining ground behind them and decided that since he was already seperated, he might as well take some of the attention off of his team while he was at it. And so he ran back to the last possible turn he could take between him and the first horde, diverting their focus onto him with a significant section of the new fleet of sentries following suit as well.

“Yeah, so you’re gonna have to find another way out for me when you get a chance Pidge.”

“What? Why?...” and then to his friend’s horror they realize that he is simply just gone and so were half of their assailants.

“May have gotten cut off by that fleet when they dropped in on us, but it’s okay! I can handle them, only issue is they’re pushing me back towards the rebel destroyers, ya know where we just narrowly escaped from... so if you have any suggestions on how to get me out of here before I get blown up... I’d greatly appreciate them,” Keith stated almost amusedly and his team could hear the zip and crack of sentries being taken out by his bayard.

“Ok, ok, ok—Lance I need cover, Hunk I need help, can you configure...” the rest of Pidge’s orders were drowned out by the whining of metal above him and then her voice was frantic over the coms, interrupting it all to tell Keith that a massive bomb had just been dropped directly over him and that he had about five minutes before the structure gave.

Well, shit.

He picks up his pace and focuses on just evading shots from the fleet when he hears a particularly loud groan from above. 

“That doesn’t sound good,” he huffs and looks back to see that as the sentries round the corner, he has put enough of a distance between them that they lower their weapons temporarily because they’re not close enough to lock onto a target.

There’s another groan from above as debris begins to make its way through the metal interrior at the farthest end of the corridor where the sentries are filing in. Perfect. He realizes that he still has a long way to go and can’t navigate via Pidge if he has to worry about being lasered in the ass by a horde of metal minions, so Keith ducks into a doorway and starts firing at the mass.

Over the coms Pidge continues to update him on just how badly he needs to not be in that hallway. The entire ceiling is caving but Keith hasn’t moved, he refuses to. Pidge watches his heat signature and the flashing red light on her scanner letting her know the integrity of the building is waning.

“I have an entire fleet on my tail, gotta at least make a dent!”

“Just another day of Keith on his self-sacrifice bull shit!”

Keith did not appreciate Lance’s tone. His plan was sort of solid. The sentries just need to keep marching and not switch into ‘chase mode’ a little longer and then the ceiling will finally give and smush them. Solid.

“Lance on ur left!”

Zap. Crash.

Karma.

“Thanks.”

“Pidge, I’ve entered the intelligence room.”

“It should be the main panel, shiro”

“Got it, getting started now”

“Pidge get down!”

Keith listened to his team struggling against their own fleet as large pieces of debris came down all around him. He didn’t need Pidge’s fancy scanner to tell him the ceiling was about to go.

He took one last look. The sentries were close enough now to start shooting. He breathed deeply. Just a couple more seconds. And then there was a massive crunch from above and he took off running in a zig zag, the ceiling breaking apart in large pieces behind him and taking out clusters of sentries at a time

Beautiful. 

Glancing over his shoulder as he ran he watched the last sentries disappear in a plume of dust and smoke, turning around only to narrowly avoid a falling spire of shredded metal by toppling over the chunk of ceiling that had crashed down already in an effort to not get impaled.

There’s a loud crack after his foot is stopped against the base of the debris and his body twists away awkwardly, victim to the mercy of his own bodies’ momentum he falls to the floor in a sprawled heap.

Keith didn’t recall screaming.

The coms were soon alight with a flurry of concerned questions and orders for him to declare his status, but he couldn’t make any sense of what they were saying over the white hot pain in his leg.

All Keith could muster the strength to focus on in that moment were the beams  flying over his head. How the fuck--? But before his mind could even attempt to make sense of how any sentries emerged from that, he pulls himself closer to the ceiling chunk he just ate shit on and ducks down to use it as cover before he started returning shots.

Just a hanful left.

Aim. Evade. Drop.

Aim. That was close. Drop

Duck. What the hell? Drop

“Keith if you can hear me, the building is severely compromised, the ceiling is coming down, you need to MOVE.”

He waves his bayard in a spray and lunges forward off of his good leg to scramble behind more debris.

As he lowers himself down behind another chunk of ceiling, he’s stunned when the visor of his helmet is struck by a sentry’s beam, shattering in his face before flying off. 

Woah.

He can’t hear over the piercing ringing in his ears for several seconds after the initial hit and after a minute he becomes aware of the blood dripping down his neck slowly from where the shattered glass of his visor nicked him.

When the ringing dies down he can faintly hear his teammates screaming his name over the coms, the world tilting before him in more ways then one as the section of the ceiling he was just under comes down on the remaining sentries.

Phew. He lets out a huge breath he didn’t know he was holding.

With some effort, he reaches out for his helmet but is instantly nauseated by the exertion as well as the noise coming from it before it’s even on his head, he lowers the coms volume so he could actually comprehend his teammates concerned questions against the sounds of their own battle.

“I repeat: Keith, sound off!”

“If his vitals are strong... then why the fuck aren’t you responding mullet!?”

“I’m good,” he breathed heavily. “Took care of the fleet, but i think my ankle is really stuffed up.”

He slid his hands under his knee and raised his leg to test what mobility he had in his ankle and couldn’t suppress the light yelp that just the movement produced when his foot dangled limply in the air. Keith’s ankle was definitely broken and not some cutesy hairline shit.

“Okay! Working on it! Don’t try and move for now, you’re suit and boot should support it and keep it in place. Tapping into your suit now... authorizing the boo boo protocol... loading... sweet! Okay pulling up the scans, you should hear a beep.”

Keith could hear Pidge feverishly tappin on a screen as well as heavy metal footsteps and thuds.

“Uhh, so minor emergency,” Lance postured just as Keith heard an electronic beep. “There’s only about a dozen sentries left but their closing in fast, we could use that back up right about now Shiro.” 

Lance cried out as a beam caught his elbow while using a slumped sentry as a shield as he picked off the front of the wave.

“Nah, I’ve got it Shiro!” Hunk called. 

“Pidge is all set... breaking out the big guns now, everyone focus on their original tasks!”

“Got it, I’m almost done here,” Shiro replied.

“Sound off when you’re free and I’ll load up directions to Keiths location—shit, Keith your ankle is like mangled do not under ANY circumstance put weight on that!"

"Uhhhhm, and get crushed to death instead?" Keith said already pulling himself up to lean against the wall with a groan.

 “No thanks.”

"~Minimal weight~ then,” Pidge compromised, “or whatever you can withstand, but that’ll be a couple extra hours in a pod.”

“A couple extra hours of beauty rest might be good for those dark circles on mullet.”

“Lance has a solid a point there.”

“Damn, you know mullets hurting when he’s agreeing with me.”

“I’d just also rather live to see another day.”

“Whatever, just get to the end of the hallway. There’s a supporting beam over there that should hold up until we get to you in case things go south.”

“Noted, making my way now.”

The ceiling above him gave another groan and so did he as more metal and ruble crashed down behind him, but he only focused on moving forward, pushing away his mounting concern for how strangely numb his foot was while his ankle was pulsing with an excruciating ache that shoot up his leg. Every hop nearly made him cry out and tempted the black dots threatening to fully cloud his vision.

“How’s it going shiro?” he gruffed while he took a break, he needed some good news.

“96% complete! Should be done any second now and then I’ll make my way over to you.”

“Okay,” he breathed meekly and bit back the bile creeping up his throat as another wave of nausea washed over him.

His head was pounding something awful now, the helmet took the brunt of the hit but his head was still sufficiently rattled. His ears were still ringing, though it seemed to mostly come from his left side.

“Done. Pidge send me his location.”

“5 sentries left. We’ll be on our way to him soon too.”

It was getting harder to stay engaged with all of the different pains he was in. His whole body just wanted to rest, his ankle throbbed angrily, and his eyelids grew heavier and harder to keep open as the pain in his head drew to a piercing concentration above his left ear, right where he took the hit.

“Hey, Keith?”

It was pidge. Everything was really loud suddenly and the thought of his own voice in his ears seemed like it would increase the pressure in his skull tenfold so he managed a groan in response.

“Did you ever take a hit to the head?”

He took a shuddering breath as he stopped again and leaned heavily against the trembling wall. Or maybe he was trembling. He couldn’t tell which it was.

“Yeah... why?” he managed to half whisper, his head felt like it was going to explode.

“Crap, okay.”

“Pidge?” it was shiro. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing bad, I can just see where he’s bleeding from on my scanner. It’s superficial but he’s bleeding pretty well from his forehead.”

“Yeah, my visor is slightly shattered,” Keith gulped.

“Hey, what’s a lil scratch when it could’ve been you’re whole face?”

“Yes it could’ve, Lance. Glad to see you care about Keith’s face. But sadly I can’t tell if you have a concussion from these scans, so just don’t fall asleep until we get to you.”

“I think I can manage.”

“You sure? Vitals say your heart beat is slow. Seriously, just don’t fall asleep.”

“Ok, yeah, got it.” Keith agreed and with a hmph he dragged himself upright and began hopping along the wall once more.

Whether it was his hearing being testy or the haze of pain distracting him from reality, he didn’t hear the loud groans of the metal shifting above him, threatening to fully give any moment now.

His progress was so painfully slow it had been well over 5 minutes and he had still not reached the end of the hallway that pidge recommended.

“Keith you’re haven’t reached the support beam yet, you’ve got to pick it up.”

He didn’t respond. He was trying. But aside from his ankle being in excruciating pain, his head was as well. The nausea had only gotten worse and his vision was getting iffy too, he saw double if he picked his head up too fast and had to turn the volume of the coms all the way down now because he thought his ears would start bleeding between Lance’s shrill exclammations of victory and Pidge’s directions.

Keith had to take a lot of breaks. Everything was so loud and his stomach was so unruly, the effort to even stand upright was becoming too much let alone making the last few feet of progress.

And then the wall that was keeping him up seemed to come away from him, that or he had keeled over on his own, either way he was now on the ground and could feel as another bomb landed on the structure above him and shook everything with a terrible rumble.

In a climax of pain and exhaustion as well as the violent rumbling of the building collapsing around him, it was all too much. The wrenching in his stomach made his eyes water and his mouth was filled instantly with saliva. He shrugged what was left of his visor up to spit it out only for his stomach to clench and his body to be rocked by his heaving. 

His head swam.

He felt so heavy. 

But he desperately wanted to get away from his puddle of sick, so he sort of crawled away from it, careful to keep his hurt ankle up.

“-eith. keith!”

“Shhh, don’t need to scream.”

“Sorry!”

 “You scared us!”

“Almost made me puke, you know I have a sensitive stomach!”

“Sorry,” he muttered hoarsely, “couldn’t really help it.”

“We know, Hunk’s just messing with you. So you most likely have a concussion if you’re vomiting, but don’t be scared, Shiro’s almost at your location and—“

But he didn’t get to hear what other wisdom Pidge had to reassure him with because another bomb had just exploded above him...

[aurora-the-kunoichi]

Forced Time

Reader and Raphael - Angsty Bullshit

(I thought I posted this already but can’t find it here or my AO3. So here it is again?)

This wasn’t how you expected your day to go, not at all. This was supposed to be a fun little trip into the lower tunnels of the old subway stations to take some unique pictures for your newly renovated office. Raphael had caught wind of your plans for a subterranean venture when you were talking to Donnie about a possible light source and offered to be your escort.

You hadn’t even realized his intimidating presence loitering in the door way of Donnie’s lab before his booming voice interrupted your discussion. “It’s dangerous to go all the way down there by yourself. It’s a never ending maze and you could get lost forever if you don’t have someone who knows the layouts. I..um…I’ll take ya down.” The temperamental terrapin grumbled in the doorway spinning a single sai in his skilled fingers.

 Donnie’s brown eyes looked to you and back to his hothead brother and agreed laughing under his breath like he knew something you didn’t. “He’s right Y/N, it’s better to go with someone just in case something happens. The boost I made to both your cells a few weeks ago should give you both service down there, as an extra precaution.”

 If it had been any other of the brothers you would have protested, you weren’t a helpless little girl. You had lived in New York all your life and had spent most of your teenage years exploring the sewers. And funny enough that was how you met the turtles. You had been visiting your old hideout, a deserted pump station when you stumbled upon the four of them scavenging parts from the station for a new project for the genius.  You had heard stories of four green monsters roaming the sewers but chalked it up to paranoid crack heads making up stories to get attention. But there they were, huge, muscular and fucking beautiful.

 Your eyes had immediately trained in on the red brute, and found yourself a little awe struck by his impressive stature and piercing green eyes. You had been smitten with Raphael from that day but hadn’t been able to tell him, you just didn’t have the confidence to step out on that particular limb. Not yet at least. So when Raphael volunteered to escort you down to the abandoned station you were quick to agree with fake annoyance.

 Both you and the brute were fitted with Donnie’s newest contraption, an LED light pack that illuminated everything around you for 200 feet. Nearly indestructible, charged from kinetic energy by the simple movement of footsteps and thankfully light as a feather. Don was excited that it was getting their first field test and demanded a full report when you got back.

 You both had made it down a few levels and were admiring the architecture and snapping several shots of the abandoned structures when a rumble echoed below your feet. It was barely noticeable at first, just a small vibration that steadily grew. You looked over at Raphael and found the big mutant currently running his green fingers over a stone pillar seemly unaware of the tremor. Lifting your camera you took a quick shot of him catching his attention. His green eyes fixated on you and his lips curled into a shit eating grin.

 “See somethin’ you like?” he growled softly just enough to reach your ears.

 You were about to answer the loaded question when the ground at your feet started heaving and cracking making everything around you start to crumble and shift. Pillars slid from their bases shattering into pieces at your feet followed by large sections of ceiling giving way no longer supported by their supports. On instinct you dodged the falling debris as it came crashing down nearly crushing you beneath its weight. More and more of the crumbling structure began to fall and you tried to find Raphael through it all, searching for his emerald skin and red bandana.

 “Raphael!” you screamed leaping out of the way of a large ancient light fixer as it came crashing down. Rolling away from the shattering glass you scrambled to your feet feeling a shard pierce the flesh of your thigh but ignored the pain for the preservation of you life. Just then you heard the deep voice of Raphael bellow out your name just in time for you to notice a gigantic section of the ceiling about to crush you.

 A small chunk hit your shoulder first making you cry out and closed your eyes waiting for the end, for the unforgiving eternal darkness to claim you. You felt the hit, the force making the colors behind your eyes snap white for a second then bursting to a brilliant array of multi colors. Then you felt yourself slam to the ground, the back of your skull colliding with the hard ground and you started to cry out but stifled your response when you heard a loud grunt just above you.

 Before you opened your eyes you felt dust and small pieces of debris fall to your cheeks but nothing big. Nothing that would crush you or break bones, just the pain from your thigh, shoulder and now the throbbing from the back of your skull.

 Shaking the loose debris from your face you finally allowed your eyes to open and found the brute’s straining face just above yours. Then you suddenly became very aware of the dire situation you both were now in. Raphael and his shell were currently keeping several very large pieces of the cement ceiling from crushing you both. Each of his green hands was on either side of your face and the densely bunched muscles in his biceps and triceps were quivering from the strain of the immense weight he was supporting.

  His eyes were scrunched closed as he concentrated on keeping you both alive, keeping his body from coming down on you suffocating you both. It was then you realized just how strong Raph was, and you were immediately thankful he had followed you down, because if he didn’t you would be dead.

 Thankfully Donnie’s lights had seemed to take the abuse of the collapse and kept you both from the darkness; you don’t what you would have done if you were down there in the pitch black, trapped.

 “R-raph…”

 His green eyes shot open and huffed a heavy breath from his efforts and tried his best to smile. “Are y-ya hurt?”

 “I h-have a cut on my leg, my shoulder hurts and I knocked the back of my head pretty good. But other than that I think I’m good…..well as much as one can be in this situation. Are you…are you ok?”

 Another grunt as the debris on top of him shifted and he lowered towards you an inch. “I’m peachy; I think I cracked my shell though…..look y/n I need you to pull out my phone and hit the emergency button. It’s in my left pocket. We’re gonna need help, I don’t know how long I can hold this?”

 Another shift and the closer he came. You could feel his labored breathing fan across your face, if the situation wasn’t so dire you would have been happy to be this close to his handsome face. Inching down his large frame the best you could in the cramped quarters you found the pocket and sunk your hand it searching for the device. Your fingers quickly found the phone but also managed to knock against something hanging between his legs soft and heavy.

 You heard his breath catch and you swore under your breath quickly pulling the phone out and pressed the button. After a few agonizing seconds the phone rage and Leo’s concerned voice boomed through the speakers.

 “Raph! Are you ok? What happened?”

 “Fearless, w-we may need some assistance. There must have been an earth quake below us and made the room collapse on us.” You could hear the stress in his voice, Raph was struggling.

 “Y/N? Is she ok?”

 “Yeah Leo, we’re both ok for now. Can..um…you guys hurry? Raph doesn’t look so good.” You cut in hoping to hurry them.

 Raphael hissed and shook his head, “I’m fine, just get your asses down here.”  

 “We’re on our way, hold on you two.” Leo called before the phone went dead leaving you both alone again.

 The surrounding area was quiet now besides a few pieces falling into the destroyed space that was once a train station from the aftermath. Hopefully the worst was over. If one more heavy piece fell on his shell you’d both be done for.

 You put the phone away in your pocket and looked up to find Raphael staring at you. His green eyes were wide and his breathing was coming quicker than before. Something cracked and moved and Raph grunted again collapsing further down.

 “You saved me.” You suddenly said reaching up to touch his face that was so close you could have leaned up and kissed those lips you had craved ever since you had met the mutant.

 “I ah, I couldn’t stand the thought of ya dyin.” His voice was low and shaky like he was unsure of himself.

 You didn’t know if these moments were going to be your last, it would be a shame if you didn’t tell him how you felt and you both died not knowing. Both your hands grabbed a hold of his arms hoping to give him your strength to keep his firm. You pressed to try and assist with the weight knowing it was futile but you hated sitting there doing nothing while he bore the whole load by himself.  

 “Raph.” You started looking up into his face; you could see sweat beading on his forehead. “I know this might be the most appropriate time for this but then again it might be the perfect time. I don’t wanna die not knowing what it feels like…..” you trailed off suddenly feeling a little self conscious.

 “You wanna know what, what feels like?” he urged licking his dry lips.

 God you felt stupid, just go for it, “If this is the end and the guys can’t get down here in time, I don’t wanna die not knowing what it felt like to kiss you.”

 Again his breath caught and his fierce eyes focused down on you, “Ya wanna kiss me? How long have you wanted to do that?”

 Slowly your right hand left his arm and pressed softly on his scared plastron, “Since the first day I met you.”

 “W-why….fuck….” he collapsed further down and his mouth was inched from yours and his plastron was brushing against your stomach now. “Why didn’t you say anything earlier?” there was a hint of panic now in his voice.

 “I was scared.”

 “And you’re not scared now?”

 You lifted your head a little to brush your lips against his, “I’m terrified Raphael. I don’t wanna die. But these could be our last moments and I don’t want to waste them worrying about what could have been. I’m going to kiss you now.” You took a deep breath and captured his lips moaning softly when he returned the kiss with vigor immediately pressing his tongue into your mouth.

 God he tasted good, like sweat and leather wrapped in spices. His broad tongue swirled against yours making you wonder how he got so good at this. How many people had he kissed? Quit thinking about that now you idiot. Abandoning his chest and arm you cupped his cheeks slanting your mouth allowing your mouths to move smoother with each other. Why did it have to be like this? Why couldn’t you be in your apartment right now lying down on your bed with his weight pressing you blissfully down in to the mattress instead of inches from crushing you?  

 A snap was heard followed by a grinding sound and your mouths broke free gasping for breath. His eyes widened as if knowing what was coming and he braced the best he could. Another piece collided with the back of his shell and he yelped in pain closing the last empty space between your bodies. His golden plastron pressed down expelling the remaining air from your lungs.

 From the newly added weight his face was now buried in your neck and Raphael could hear you start to gasp for air, he was suffocating you. He tried to push himself up, tried to give you the space you needed for your lungs to expand to get the oxygen you required. But it was no use, he was pinned and the last remaining strength he had was keeping the horrid weight from crushing your bones.

 You couldn’t breathe and all the weight that was on your chest wouldn’t allow you any leeway to the air you desperately needed. You were going to die here but at least you were in his arms.

 “Raphael!” you could hear them in the distance, they were coming.

 “L-LEO! Over here quick!” Raphael tried to scream but it only came out in a muffled cry and his plastron was beginning to concave in on itself.

 “The signal is coming from over here!” you heard Donnie calling, but it was like he was getting farther away. All the sounds felt like they were getting father away. God you needed air, you didn’t want to die. The darkness was creeping around your vision pulling you towards oblivion. You brain was reacting to the lack of oxygen and was shutting down, you were dying.

 Slowly your fingers slid over his cheeks memorizing how he felt, the soft ridges of his scales and the scar across his lip, the lips you had just got to kiss. His breath was hot against your ear coming in shallower now; the pressure was affecting his ability to breath now too.

 Raphael could feel your fingers glide across his skin, feeling, touching. Then they slowed and stopped halting their exploration falling from their perch on his face. “Y/N?” he gasped the best he could. “Y/N they’re almost here, hold on!” But you were no longer struggling against him; your chest was still now, unmoving. “No! NO!”

 Suddenly everything on top of him began to shift and lift alleviating the pressure and Raphael sucked in dusty but much needed air into his burning lungs. The final piece lifted and three pairs of strong hands lifted him up and onto his feet allowing him to see your lifeless form lying on the cold ground.

 Raphael lunged forward out of his brothers grasp and lifted your limp body into his arms and away from your makeshift tomb. Setting you down quickly he started chest compressions and CPR frantically trying to breath the life back into you.

 Seconds turned into minutes and nothing happened. Your body shifted listlessly below his hands as his three brothers watched anxiously over his shoulder.

 “Come on Y/N, wake up! Please I need you to wake up! Fuck!” he continued his compressions and Donnie’s hand rested on his shoulder.

 “She’s gone Raph; if you keep going you’re going to crush her rib cage.”  

 “No Donnie, I’m not giving up! We just….. I got to…..finally got to kiss her. I’ve wanted to do that since we saw her staring wide eyed at us over a year ago. I wanna…..I wanna do it again.” Raphael leaned down again blowing air into your lungs and finally crumbled under the emotional stress and stopped, leaving his lips covering yours. He pressed his lips one more time to yours kissing you, savoring how you tasted one more time.

 Then without warning your lips responded and your hands lifted encircling his neck pulling him down so you could kiss him deeper, to tasted him better. A shuttering cry left him as he realized you were alive and plunged his tongue into your mouth in pure relief.

 With a pop he pulled free of you looking down at your smiling face. “You’re alive!”

 Allowing him to pull you up into a sitting position you coughed, “I had to give Donnie a report on how his lights fared in their first field test. Plus how could I disappoint you if you wanted another kiss?”

 Raphael growled and closed the distance covering your mouth with his again.

 Donnie looked back and forth to Mikey and Leo and returned his eyes back to you and Raphael, “So how did they do?”

[monstersandmaw]

Embers - male dragon shifter x reader) Part Two (sfw)

(this is supposed to be going up every Friday, but I was a dumbo yesterday and forgot, so here it is, a day late and with my apologies!)

Here's Chapter Two for you, in which we find out our dragon shifter’s name (pronunciation at the end if you’re curious). And Frankie speaks with a heavy Welsh accent.

I was trying to keep each chapter to under 1000 words, but that didn't work out so well for this one. It's nearly 2000 words. Anyway, I hope you enjoy!!

A phone call from a number you didn’t recognise interrupted your quiet Friday evening, and you answered with some trepidation. Usually it was marketing calls at this hour, and nothing was guaranteed to make you lose your shit quicker than someone phoning up to sell you double glazing or, even worse, to try and scam you out of your life savings.

This time, however, a bright and bubbly voice with a lilting accent asked, “Hiya, I hope I’m not calling at a bad time, but you gave my friend your number in the hopes of finding a flute teacher?”

“Oh my god!” you blurted, nearly dropping the phone. “Yes! I didn’t think he’d actually pass it on. Thanks for calling.”

The laugh that trilled out of the person on the other end was more like a bleating giggle, and it was then that you remembered that the teacher was a faun. “No problem! My name is Frankie, by the way, and I’ve actually got space to take on a new pupil at the moment. If I got it straight it’s your niece?”

“Yeah, she’s six.”

“Ok, if you could maybe tell me a bit about her and what level she’s at, that might help me plan a bit, but we could set up a trial lesson - free of charge - and go from there?”

“Perfect. As for her level, she’s brand new. She’s wanted to play the flute for a long time, but she’s only six and my brother couldn’t really afford lessons until now.” As a single father, a widower, your brother did his absolute best for his little girl, and with no kids of your own, you stepped in to help quite a lot. “She’s bright and a quick learner, though she’s not particularly verbal. She’s always been drawn to music though; I think it’s a half-siren thing…”

“Yeah, that’ll be it!” he chuckled. “As long as she’s going to listen to me, that’s a good place to start from; I don’t need her to recite the Trollbridge Common Dictionary as well. I teach up at Mikaeïl’s house - he lets me use the music room free of charge.”

You frowned in confusion. “Mikaeïl?”

“The red-headed, starched-shirt-wearing, giant nerd-bag you met in the coffee shop,” he grinned and you snorted your tea nearly out of your nose.

“Oh my god.”

“Right? I mean, Kaeïl is an absolute marshmallow on the inside, I promise, but he comes across as a complete arsehole, doesn’t he? Anyway, back to the flute lessons. You let me know some dates when she’ll be free to come over, I’ll give you the address, and we can see how we get along. Texting is better for me as I’m usually teaching during the day.”

“Sounds good,” you said, and began to arrange the rest with Frankie.

Afterwards you did a quick internet search and found him easily enough. He was apparently well known, both as a teacher and a soloist, and he and the quintet did a number of local concerts too. You couldn’t resist zooming in on a few photos which also had Mikaeïl in. God, he had amazing bone structure, but he definitely had one severe case of resting bitch-face for sure. He wasn’t smiling in any of the photos and he looked severe, and untouchable as a hot coal.

Satisfied that Frankie was the genuine article, you called your brother and fixed a date to take her to the address Frankie had given you.

The next Friday, you picked Celia up from school while her dad took the night shift at work. The hours weren’t great, but it meant he got slightly better pay. Plus it meant that you got to have Celia for the night, and that was always fun. She was intelligent and creative, if quiet, and after dinner the two of you usually watched a film together or read if she didn’t feel like watching anything. You knew she missed her siren mother dearly, and her death had almost destroyed your brother. You and he were all the family she had now; her own grandparents had wanted nothing to do with a half-breed human.

You found Mikaeïl’s place easily enough, and as the enormous gates swung open for you, drove your rather shoddy car along the mile-long gravel driveway through gorgeous parkland and up to a frankly ridiculous mansion on the outskirts of Old Trollbridge. You barely restrained yourself from cursing out loud. The place was insanely beautiful.

Celia had her hands pressed up against the car windows, mouth open. “My teacher lives here?” she asked.

“It’s the house of his friend,” you said, trying to sound unfazed and unaffected by the grandeur. Mikaeïl must be a very wealthy person indeed.

You parked up outside and Celia hopped out, piercing eyes gazing up at the warm, sandstone facade of the building with its many sash windows and ornate architectural details. Her dusky brown wings - small for a siren her age, but then again she was only half-siren - were flexed slightly, as though she planned on flapping up to get a closer look at the carvings above the door, but you took her hand before the thought got any further, and led her to the front door, her brand new flute in your other hand.

It took a while for someone to come to the door, but when it was answered, you were surprised to find that it wasn’t some servant or butler in fancy livery, but it was Mikaeïl himself. You recognised him instantly, and he looked at you from behind his circular, gold-rimmed glasses with the same, piercing gold eyes. Despite the colour, they were cold and unsmiling. Beside him, in complete contrast in every way, stood a very short, slightly stocky figure with the white, woolly lower half of a satyr. He wore a thick, dark green, knitted jumper despite the warmth of the day, and he had massively thick, curling horns that coiled around his ovine ears. His curly hair was cut relatively short, and matched his white legs in colour.

He extended a hand to you as Mikaeïl stepped back silently and disappeared into the shadows, and he bleated, “Hi! I’m Frankie. And you must be Celia,” he added, turning his dark eyes to her. “Nice to meet you. Would you like to come in?”

She nodded shyly, and you ushered her inside in front of you. Frankie’s big cloven hooves clopped loudly on the marble entrance hall, and Celia gasped as she took in the beautiful, sweeping staircase that curled up the cylindrical walls of the drum-like entrance hall that was capped with a coffered dome.

“It’s quite something, isn't it?” Frankie said conspiratorially to her, and she nodded again. “Come on, let me show you guys the music room. It’s got the loveliest piano. This way.”

Mikaeïl had all but vanished.

Nattering constantly, Frankie led you away down a light, airy corridor with gold and cream silk wall hangings and 18th century landscape paintings on one side and a gallery of windows overlooking the gravel driveway on the other, and into an equally beautiful space. Somehow, despite the obvious wealth, the music room was tasteful and bizarrely modest. Yes, that was an original Steinway, and yes, there was a crystal chandelier - relatively small, but still - in the centre of the moulded-plaster ceiling, but the huge windows looked out onto a private terrace and parkland beyond, and it had the feeling of a well-used, well-loved, functional room.

Celia was utterly entranced. Her wide eyes took it all in and you stood there dumbstruck as well.

Eventually, however, you both got over it, and Frankie brought over a very ordinary, metal music stand and parked his behind on the piano stool with a grunt. “Right,” he grinned and she giggled slightly. “Let’s see what we’ve got here.” He pulled out his own flute from its case and showed her how to align the sections of her own correctly.

You sat at one side of the room, but you realised quickly that Celia kept looking over to you before she spoke, so you said, “Celia, I think you might learn better if I wait outside. How would that be?”

She nodded and you knew her well enough to see that she wasn’t worried, and Frankie shot you a smile and a nod. “We’ll be about another half an hour,” he said quietly.

With that, you left, and wandered up the corridor and back into the entrance hall.

You took your time in the corridor, admiring the paintings, and you were just looking up at the ceiling of the entrance hall again, marvelling at the artistry of the whole thing, when someone cleared their throat pointedly from the doorway to your left and you jumped.

“Can I help you?”

It was Mikaeïl. He was dressed in a smart shirt, with a black waistcoat and black trousers today, and his long red hair was tied back in a smooth ponytail that fell halfway down his back. His horns glinted in the low light, looking more like strangely-carved precious gems, flecked with gold, than keratin, and his eyes reflected oddly, like cat’s eyes in the dark.

“I…” you faltered. “I thought it best if I left them to it…” you said stupidly. He seemed to have the effect of draining your IQ to zero with just one look.

“So you took the liberty of roaming the halls of my home instead?” he said in a cold drawl.

“I… I’m not poking around,” you countered hotly, finding your words coming back to you. “I’ve only walked along the corridor!”

A tiny smile twitched at the corner of his lips. “Would you like something to drink?”

His polite question caught you off guard, and you gave him a blank look. “I thought you were going to have your gamekeeper shoot me for trespassing…” you said dryly.

Mikaeïl barked a harsh but amused laugh, the rigid lines of his body softening just a fraction. “Not yet at least,” he said and turned his back on you.

Assuming you were meant to follow, you did. 

Part Three

—

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It’s pronounced ‘mick-eye-ill’ :)

[jovanniaaron]

⤜ ❝ 𝖙𝖍𝖎𝖘 𝖘𝖍𝖎𝖙 𝖜𝖆𝖘 𝖌𝖎𝖛𝖊𝖓 𝖙𝖔 𝖒𝖊, 𝖎 𝖆𝖎𝖓'𝖙 𝖈𝖍𝖔𝖔𝖘𝖊 𝖎𝖙. 𝖙𝖗𝖎𝖊𝖉 𝖙𝖔 𝖒𝖆𝖐𝖊 𝖑𝖎𝖋𝖊 𝖆𝖓𝖉 𝖘𝖔𝖒𝖊𝖍𝖔𝖜 𝖒𝖆𝖉𝖊 𝖆 𝖒𝖔𝖛𝖎𝖊 ❞

i’ve been keeping a close eye on JOVANNI MALIK AARON lately . by all means , i’ve started to notice the striking resemblance between him and keith powers , but something sparked my interest more . as it turns out - the aaron family have indeed tried their best to tuck away jovanni’s impulsive tendencies , but it only seems to bring out his arrogance more . according to close confidants , on rare occasions , he can be debonair , last time they saw this side of him was , and i quote - “ON HIS TWENTY-FOURTH BIRTHDAY” . but most shocking of all , seems to be the fact that ever since i dug deeper in his life , i somehow couldn’t shake the image of golden grills on perfectly straight teeth : tendrils of marijuana smoke in the air : leather seats in a foreign car : a façade of perfection : empty bottles of hennessy : pretty lips spilling pretty lies : smooth r&b and soul : the seductive scent of creed aventus & sex out of my head .

⤜ BASICS.

full name: jovanni malik aaron ( pronounced: joe-von-ee ) nicknames: j, jo, vanni, van ( pronounced: von ) birthday: march thirtieth  zodiac: aries gender: cis male pronouns: he/him/his sexuality: pansexual occupation: part-time model / full-time law student / part-time paralegal

⤜ PHYSICAL. 

height: 6′2 weight: 182.3 lbs. eyes: brown hair: dark brown/black, usually cut into a bald fade piercings: both ears, usually wearing small gold hoops tattoos: none distinguishing characteristics: he has a dusting of freckles across his face and a jawline so sharp that it could cut steel. he’s usually wearing a flirty, panty-dropping smirk on his face, and he carries himself with confidence -- a swagger that’s simply unmatched. he has a small scar on his forehead that he got playing in the yard when he was younger. he’s classically handsome, with perfect bone structure, a tall and lean stature, jovanni is something of a walking wet dream. 

⤜ PERSONALITY.

positive: bold, confident, debonair, intelligent, creative, playful, easy-going, charming, flirty. negative: impulsive, invincibility-complex, cocky, selfish, self-centered, emotionally unavailable, temperamental, dishonest. short description: to jovanni, the world is his oyster. it revolves around him. the aaron family is the epitome of perfection personified, and jovanni was raised to carry that perfection on his back. he’s gotten good at putting up that façade though -- creating the illusion that he’s just another perfect member of the aaron. on the outside, he’s the picture of perfection and grace -- just like the family mantra. when, in reality, he’s self-destructive. he’s quite the opposite of what his parents would like him to be. his confidence bleeds into unabashed arrogance, he believes he’s invincible to everything -- the law and even death. not to mention, you can’t trust a single thing that spills from those pretty lips of his. 

⤜ BIOGRAPHY.

(tw: drug use) 

     jovanni had a perfect childhood. his parents showered him with anything he could have ever wanted. his bedroom was full of the latest toys, video game consoles and video games, he had the biggest birthday parties in the backyard, and he never wanted for anything. maybe it just came naturally, seeing as his parents are who they are, but jovanni’s always been naturally intelligent and driven. he was easily always top of his class, bringing home good grades and top test scores. however, jovanni had a problem when it came to discipline, and that only got worse as he grew up. he had an affinity for landing himself in hot water with his parents because he talked back to a teacher, or he pushed a schoolmate on the playground -- jovanni just didn’t ( and still doesn’t ) like to be told what to do. of course, this little issue was a blemish on the face of the aaron family name, and it simply had to be handled. 

     and it was. jovanni was taught, by any means necessary, the importance of good behavior and self-image -- because his self-image directly reflected the family image, and the aaron family couldn’t be anything short of perfect and graceful. it’s the family mantra after all, right? 

     jovanni’s academic achievements continued to grow, so did the pressure to keep up that perfect image, and so did his desire to be anything but. by the time he was in high school, jovanni was fully immersed in parties and alcohol, he was sleeping around -- with girls and guys ( though he’s still pretty closeted when it comes to his sexuality ), getting absolutely hammered when he got the chance, when his friends would come over they would raid the wine cellar for whatever liquor they could find, and before he graduated from high school, he was introduced to marijuana and a few other drugs -- like lsd, molly, and ecstasy -- he also did coke once in college but it was a one done thing for him. 

     while jovanni and his friends knew what he was really like on the inside, to his parents and the rest of the outside world, he was a perfect kid. he got straight a’s, was involved in plenty of clubs, always elected president of the student body, a star wide receiver on the football team, a great basketball player, and an amazing baseball player, a tutor, and someone who always had the attention of some of the most coveted universities. he would attend court when his father was working more high profile cases, or more like his father would drag him along, and so jovanni just assumed he was expected to follow in his footsteps. 

     during college -- which were full of wild party days, hookups, and a few scandals that his parents worked hard to cover up ( including but not limited to: a dui charge, a hit and run, two unwanted pregnancies, and a threatened expulsion after a plagiarism incident ) ( he also pledged kappa alpha psi ) -- he started doing a few modeling gigs here and there after being discovered on instagram. he still does it to this day, a few modeling gigs here and there that have garnered him quite the social media following. when he isn’t modeling or partying or fucking -- he’s focusing on law school while also working at the firm his father does as a paralegal. 

     he still lives young, wild, and free much to his parents dismay, though his façade of perfection hasn’t come crumbling down...yet. time will only tell how long he can keep this up. 

⤜ WANTED CONNECTIONS.

exes: maybe an ex-girlfriend that his parents had set him up with in high school, they probably had a toxic relationship because neither of them wanted to be in it. or maybe it was toxic but your muse wanted to be in it, actually loved jovanni despite how he treated her. another ex -- someone he actually wanted to be with and probably loved despite his parents not really accepting that relationship. 

friends: friends from high school and college. they can still be close or maybe they drifted apart. friends who he partied a lot with in high school/college. 

the bro: his true bromance -- otb. this has been his best friend since like the first grade, they’ve been through everything together and they’re still as thick as thieves. 

the sis: his girl best friend, it’s always been platonic between the two of them. 

enemies

a boy he’s known since high school, someone he explored his sexuality with. maybe they’ve drifted apart or had a falling out and now they’re running into each other again. 

fuckbuddies: this one’s pretty self-explanatory. the boy likes sex, it’s one of his vices next to weed and alcohol and looking in the mirror a little too much. layer in some angst with some of these relationships and we’re cooking with grease! 

and plenty more! i’m down for any and all connections honestly! just give this a like or slide in my ims and we can plot out some connections and plots for our muses!

[mourningvale]

K. Jeweler’s Closed for “Necessary Renovations”

(Just laying some foundations pre-Shadowlands for your friendly neighborhood occult jewelry dealer.  Toying with just what death “not quite working right” could mean. CW: death and lewdness)

The whiskey stone clattered and clinked endlessly against the low-ball glass clutched tightly in her shaking hand.  Blood-spattered knuckles had turned white from the grip, the bone structure of her slender fingers prominent beneath the stretching skin; claw-like and desperate.  Despite how tightly she held her alcohol, the three finger pour remained largely untouched with only the faintest ghost of a kiss from rouged lips on the rim.  Save for the nervous shake of her hand, Kallarel sat motionless amidst the disarray; papers flung, candles overturned (one even smoldering upon a fine woven rug), and viscera scattered to all four walls of the basement “showroom”.

How had it all gone so terribly wrong?  She had the ritual from hunt to sacrifice down to a science, as simple as beheading a chicken for market.  She had armed herself with a fine silk gown, cut impossibly low over the curvaceous swell of her chest, a pair of heels so severe as to be weaponized and a few sprays of expensive and alluring perfume and off she had stalked…

The hunt had been simple and quick enough.  A disgraced noble with a rich tongue miss-matched to his thin pockets, shunned by his people, and already half in the bag when she approached him at the Falconwing bar just before the innkeeper could kick him out.  It was over the moment she slid the gold coins across the counter, paying the fellow’s tab and then some.  A kind word in a cooing tone and he was smitten by this benefactor.

She welcomed him to a private table, plying him with the drink of his choice as the toe of her lethal footwear nudged and traced lacy patterns on his shin and calf, the gesture surreptitious yet entirely deliberate.  It saw a rise of color in his cheeks and increasing bravado of his tongue, tumbling slurred promises of how he would make up this kindness to her and all the positions it would require.  

Once he could barely stand, Kallarel tipped the innkeeper heavily for her discretion and escorted her prey outside to the jet black hawkstrider she had tacked to the post, raising no complaint save for the tightening of her jaw as the drunken man’s hands roamed sloppily about her for both his balance and amusement.  The indignity is always brief; she would remind herself as she assisted the now softly singing drunkard into the saddle before mounting behind him, pressing her hips firmly against his back to hold him in place as she reached around for the reins.  He would dare to grab her hand as she did so, placing it squarely behind the horn of the fine saddle to his own rigid length instead, a lewd and not entirely comprehensible comment about riding her made.

Taken in stride, she sped them back to Silvermoon City, the streets quiet given the hour.  Up the Walk of Elders, up the ramp of Murder Row, eyes darting left and right for familiar faces.  There were none, save perhaps ones that lurked within the shadows, keenly watching with eyes wide open and mouths tightly shut.  

Good.  

At last, the welcoming burble of the ornate fountain features within the Court of the Sun filled the ears as she parked them before her shopfront.  He was hastened to a side-door marked as an “employee entrance” and led down a flight of stone steps, far less care taken with him as he stumbled his way down, twisting his ankle and bruising his knee.  

Also good.

A simple wave of her hand raised the pitch blackness of the room to a dim, red lit hue as a few pillar candles sputtered to life with enchanted flame.  It was enough for her to navigate the familiar surroundings and enough for him to see just the slab in the recessed pit of the center of the room.  It was a dark stone, flat and polished to an almost unnatural sheen on its surface.  Black candle wax pooled around its perimeter and rose in occult stalagmites in the shadows.  She knew she had chosen well when the grim scene only sparked a bemused “...kinky!” from the nobleman.  It was almost too easy, how he fumbled to undress himself, how he limped his hungry frame willingly to her altar…

Really, how had it gone so wrong…?

It should have been a simple process.  She had streamlined it; perfected what she had been taught.  Her procedure lacked pomp and circumstance in favor of quick and profitable results.  A cantrip to light the candles, an easy invocation to summon enough incorporeal chains to bind her victim in place, and one quick plunge to the chest from the pulsing and glowing ritual dagger to shatter the bonds of flesh and spirit at the height of her spell.  He had remained doggedly hot for her even as the blade pierced his sternum, oblivious until his very last moments.  Only as Kallarel’s free hand cast a shadow over him, fingers crooked as though grasping a heavy object above him, twitching and trembling with strain, would he have felt the searing tug upon his soul as it was wrenched from his mortal vessel; contorted, compressed, commanded.

The agonized screams were so common Kallarel had long since ceased to hear them, remaining entirely focused on her task as tendrils of life force flew to her hand, spun and shimmered, each twitch of a finger forming the facets of the shard.  Except this time.  This time, there was an echo to the scream and not one that bounced from the well insulated walls of her basement.  The wail somehow grew both louder and further away as though a squall out at sea.  Kallarel’s hand snapped back, jamming her wrist with a wince as all her hard work began to unravel in the air before her.  Desperate to regain control, she released her grip on the dagger, allowing it to stand within his chest as though it were nothing but a knife block.  Both hands reached for the swirling mass of green light, teeth gritting against how it seared at her skin as though it were rope being run too fast between her fingers.

“No no no--!” she seethed, shoulders locking as she tried in vain to regain her grip.  The unraveled strands of the noble’s soul plunged back towards the dagger, back within her prey’s chest with a force that rose the dead man’s spine from the table.  And then it plunged deeper beyond the man’s mortal shell.  The edges of the oozing wound began to crackle and split as though made of porcelain, each fissure aglow with a sickly light the likes of which Kallarel had never seen.  It flared around her dagger, brighter and pulsing as the last of the soul had slipped from her fingers.  As it coalesced around the blade, the screaming ended and the roar of magical energies swirling about the room went from a frightful din to a deathly silence; a quiet so thick on the air the warlock found her own breath came shallow and scarce.  The alien gravity saw the wound pulsing, deepening, spreading… a window opening down to where the soul had been taken.  She could not help but stare.  It willed it of her and no doubt relished in the terror that lit her fel fire eyes at the vision of hell itself, a miasma undulating more horrifically than the noble’s increasingly spreading heart.

One word, calm yet thunderous, boomed within her sanctuary with a force that rocked the street just above, rattling the display shelves and cases of her jewelry shop, shattering the glass on some, spilling diamonds amid the shards on the floor.  It was direct, and pointed at Kallarel so harshly it knocked her from her feet and robbed her of consciousness.

YES.

[dwindledglow]

001. MEET JAMES

FULL NAME: james rasheed asrani. PREFERRED NAME: james. NICKNAME/S: he doesn’t have any. DATE OF BIRTH: april 2nd, 1993. GENDER & PRONOUNS: cis male & he/his. ORIENTATION: hetero. RELIGION: agnostic. RELATIONSHIP STATUS: married to rose asrani. OCCUPATION: model. RESIDENCE: southampton, suffolk county.

002. CHECK JAMES’ BACKGROUND

HOMETOWN: anaheim, california. NATIONALITY: american. ETHNIC BACKGROUND: spanish, american. LINGUISTICS: english which is his native language and spanish and french in a fluent level. EDUCATION: he has graduated from high-school. CRIMINAL RECORD: clean. BIRTH ORDER: first and only. FATHER: javier zafar asrani, born on october 5th, 1965 in san josé, california, residing in los angeles, california. he’s the CEO of asrani halle and a high-profile lawyer. MOTHER: alyssa louise asrani, née astaire, born on november 19th, 1967 in houston, texas, residing in los angeles, california and working as the head of the physics and astronomy department at caltech.  she worked at nasa for twenty years and despite no longer working on the research field, she still lends a hand whenever its needed at nasa, as well as other researching agencies. SISTER/S: none. BROTHER/S: none. SIGNIFICANT OTHER: rose asrani, née johnson. CHILDREN: alexis sofia asrani, born on november 2nd, 2017 in los angeles, california. esme grace asrani, born on october 31st, 2019 in southampton, new york. OTHER RELEVANT FAMILY: neelam asrani, cousin. EX/ES: blair grant and delilah campbell. PETS: luna, a japanese spitz, bachi, a golden retriever, saint, a husky and meeko, a blue merle australian shepperd.

003. GET UP CLOSE & PERSONAL

HEIGHT: 6′2″ or 188 cm. WEIGHT: between 165 lbs or 75 kg and 175 lbs or 79 kg. BODY BUILD: james is slender — his body is overall toned due to the daily exercise routine and he has put on some muscle throughout the years, without turning too muscly. as a courtesy of the years he used to swim, he has rather broad shoulders and, as a result of all the years boxing, he also has muscular arms and legs, and a six pack. EYE COLOR: coppery-brown, hazel green; depending on the light his eye color can change from a coppery, warm shade of brown to a hazel-green hue. EYESIGHT: his eyesight is perfect. HAIR COLOR & STYLE: for the vast majority of the time, and unless work requires otherwise, james keeps his hair longer at the top and shorter or shaved at the sides. despite his preference, however, he's not afraid to play around with different hairstyles. in the past, he has allowed his hair to grow to the point where he could tie it in a bun and he's, also, opted for haircuts that most people deemed questionable. on top of that, he enjoys playing around with colors as well — he's had his hair pink, black with green tips and silver before. DOMINANT HAND: right. NOTABLE PHYSICAL TRAITS: when you look james' way, the most enticing, and perhaps most notable, distinguish feature he has are his eyes — from their doe shape to the mischievous sparkle to them, to its unusual color and his insanely lengthy lashes, it's hard not to enthralled. likewise, his sharp and angular bone structure is quick to attract the attention. amongst other things, some other notable physical traits of his are his thick brows, towering height, pouty lips, tan skin and dimples in the small of his back. SCARS AND MARKS: on the right side of his neck, and as the result of a biopsy he had to do when he was fifteen, there's a faded scar. as a courtesy of him accidentally hurting himself while on set, there are a few minor scars, nothing too evident, scattered throughout his body, as well. james also has very faint freckles across the bridge of his nose — which aren't truly visible unless someone's really close to him — and he has two distinctive birthmarks ; a tiny, light-colored and heart-shaped one on the left side of his right knee and another one directly above his hanger tattoo which is placed behind his left ear. TATTOOS: behind his left ear, james as a small hanger tattoo meant to represent his career and his love for fashion. inside his right wrist, in small, uppercase and bold font, he has the date 14th may which is his little cousin's neelam birthday. in his left hand's middle finger, he has a small swallow which represents his freedom. along his left hip, he has the quote ( and personal reminder ) love and show, hate and hide. in his right collarbone and tattooed in arabic, he has the proverb nobody can destroy your dreams — something that works as a reminder for himself when things get tough. on the inside of his left arm, he has the word perspective — reference, meaning how every situation can be seen in different prisms, depending on the light shed on them and on who's judging it. along the side of his right arm, he has the quote only the good, representing how his focus is on the positive side of his life and not the negativity. behind his right ear, he has alexis, his daughter's first name and on the right side of his left wrist, he has a circle which is a representation of karma and the saying what goes around comes around. besides it, he has an intricate mandala creeping from his hand up his arm, and on the back of his neck, he has rose petals surrounding a R0903, which is essentially a tattoo for his wife followed by her initial and the date of their anniversary. PIERCINGS: none. VOICECLAIM: jorge martin. ACCENT & INTENSITY: in spite of living in new york city for a good part of his adult life and picking up a lot of new yorker's expressions and catch phrases, james doesn't have — and never had — a new york accent. amongst jokes about how you could take the boy out of california but not the california out of the boy, there seems to be some truth to it. his accent is your typical southern california one, and it has only grown stronger ever since he moved back to los angeles. ALLERGIES: insects. PHOBIAS & FEARS: deep waters. MENTAL & PHYSICAL ILLNESSES: none so far. ALCOHOL USE: sometimes, mostly on social situations. SMOKING: rarely, he’s succeeding at stopping the vice. NARCOTICS USE: he doesn’t use anything. INDULGENT FOOD: sometimes. SPLURGE SPENDING: it happens occasionally. GAMBLING: no, never.

004. DIG DEEPER

CAN THEY DRIVE? yes, he can drive. CAN THEY COOK & BAKE? yes and no. CAN THEY CHANGE A FLAT TIRE? yes. CAN THEY TIE A TIE? yes. CAN THEY SWIM? yes. CAN THEY RIDE A BICYCLE? yes. CAN THEY JUMP START A CAR? no. CAN THEY BRAID HAIR? yes. CAN THEY PICK A LOCK? no. EXTROVERTED OR INTROVERTED? extroverted. DISORGANIZED OR ORGANIZED? organized. CLOSE OR OPEN MINDED? open minded. CALM OR ANXIOUS? calm. PATIENT OR IMPATIENT? in-between. OUTSPOKEN OR RESERVED? outspoken. LEADER OR FOLLOWER? leader. OPTIMISTIC OR PESSIMISTIC? in-between. TRADITIONAL OR MODERN? modern. HARD-WORKING OR LAZY? hard-working. CULTURED OR UNCULTURED? cultured. LOYAL OR DISLOYAL? loyal. FAITHFUL OR UNFAITHFUL? faithful. NIGHT OWL OR EARLY BIRD? night owl. HEAVY OR LIGHT SLEEPER? heavy sleeper. COFFEE OR TEA? coffee. DAY OR NIGHT? night. TAKING BATHS OR SHOWERS? showers. COCA COLA OR PEPSI? coca-cola. CATS OR DOGS? dogs. NETFLIX OR CINEMA? netflix. SHOWS OR MOVIES? shows. LAPTOP OR GAMING CONSOLE? laptop. HEALTHY OR JUNK FOOD? healthy food. ICE CREAM OR FROZEN YOGURT? ice cream. PIZZA OR HAMBURGER? pizza. LOLLIPOPS OR GUMMY WORMS? gummy worms. BEACH OR POOL? beach. SNOWBALLS FIGHTING OR ICESKATING? snowballs fighting. LITERATURE OR SCIENCE? literature. HISTORY OR ART? art. CHOCOLATE BARS OR COTTON CANDY? chocolate bars. XBOX OR PLAYSTATION? playstation. FACE-TO-FACE OR PHONE INTERACTIONS? face-to-face interactions. DRAMA OR SCI-FI? drama. HORROR OR COMEDY? horror.

005. JAMES’ FAVORITES

FAVORITE ACTIVITY: drawing. FAVORITE ANIMAL: wolf. FAVORITE BOOK: the kite runner by khaled hosseini. FAVORITE COLOR/S: red. FAVORITE CUISINE: japanese. FAVORITE DISH/ES: sushi, yakitori, sashimi, okonomiyaki, ramen, japanese curry, yakisoba, dango and mochi ice cream. FAVORITE DRINK/S: black coffee and peppermint hot chocolate, whiskey and martinis. FAVORITE FLOWER/S: ume - japanese apricot. FAVORITE GEM: red diamond. FAVORITE MOVIE: fight club by david fincher. FAVORITE SONG: pyramids by frank ocean. FAVORITE SCENT/S: the scent of sea air, vanilla and musk. FAVORITE SHOW/S: sense8, money heist, narcos, mr. robot and black mirror. FAVORITE SPORT/S & TEAM THEY SUPPORT: basketball, he supports la lakers and houston rockets, and american football, he supports new york giants and los angeles rams. FAVORITE SEASON OF THE YEAR: spring. VACATION DESTINATION: bali, indonesia.

[xoxopandapanda]

InuKag Week 2019: Day 6

@inukag-week

(OH MY GAWD I’M SO FAR BEHIND)

Different Path

Inuyasha walked slowly up the towering steps toward the shrine that sat on top of the hill. At the top was a beautiful shrine maiden sweeping away the leaves and collective dirt that had gathered in the crevices of the stone pathway.

As he approached, she turned to greet her visitor and welcome him. Her long raven hair was pulled back loosely with a white tie, and she emitted a calm aura.

“Welcome,” she called to him, her smile soft and reaching her eyes. “Thank you for your visit today.”

Inuyasha grunted and looked around. His college roommate, Miroku, had told him that if he came to this shrine, he might find the answers he was looking for. Inuyasha had initially scoffed at the idea, but his suggestion had worn enough on the half-demon’s mind that he decided to go.

No harm in checking it out.

The shrine grounds were beautiful, that he had to admit. The large tree just to the side, and the little structures around the perimeter were well maintained and clean. The soft sunlight illuminated the area in an ethereal way, making him feel like he had left the business of Tokyo far behind.

Kagome watched as the man before her went from visibly tense to relaxed. His shoulders moved from being hiked high up by his ears to down in a relaxed position. She heard him start to take deeper breaths and the lines around his eyes and mouth dropped from sight and he blinked slowly.

She took the time to take in his appearance. He was dressed his loose-fitting pants and a larger bomber jacket. On his head was a baseball cap, silver hair pulled draped around his shoulders and down his back. His hands were tucked into his pocket, and the sandals were an interesting choice for this time of year. It would begin to frost at night soon, and she had pulled out her tabi socks weeks ago in response to the changing weather.

While he kept it well hidden physically, Kagome knew immediately that he had demon blood coursing through his veins.

She kept her voice quiet when she spoke to him again, “Please feel free to walk around. If you have any questions, please do not hesitate to ask me.”

Inuyasha was snapped back to reality at the sound of her voice.

“Oh, right.” Inuyasha nodded in her direction. “Thanks.”

Miroku had warned Inuyasha that this was a centuries old shrine that had been run by the family for generations. The history of the place was ingrained deep into the ground it stood on, as well as the blood of the people who supported it. The woman at the front seemed harmless on the outside, but Inuyasha could tell right away that she held great spiritual powers.

He walked slowly around the grounds, admiring the centuries old structures and their condition. He had seen things like this growing up in his mother’s compound, but he never imagined he would find such things in the middle of Tokyo, tuck away on the top of a hill.

He could see the scraping and ridges made by the craftsmen so many years ago still imbedded deep into the wood, and the carvings had been carefully repaired when parts had fallen off.

The place was by no means elaborate, but it was loved. That much was visible.

Inuyasha walked close to see the insides of each building. He was slow and silent in his walk, causing him to startle an older man who was dusting and organizing some pottery in one of the sheds.

Inuyasha stepped back at the sound of his startled yelp, apologizing silently with a bow to the hunched over man and backing out of the shed.

However, the elder called to him.

“You look like a strong young man. Come here.” The older man waved his hands at Inuyasha, beckoning him to come back. Inuyasha looked around, trying to assess if the man was really talking to him. Seeing no one else, Inuyasha pointed at himself and said, “Who? Me?”

“Yes, you. I need this vase moved forward.” The older man patted the large decorated vase in front of him. “I need to clean the back.”

Inuyasha slowly moved forward and stood next to the man. “Uh,” he muttered, at a loss for words, “okay.”

“Just scoot it forward a little bit. Not too too much.”

Inuyasha did as he was told, carefully wiggling the large vase forward until the man told him it was enough. Not knowing what to do while the man cleaned the backside of the stored vase, Inuyasha looked around the shed. It was filled to the brim with pottery of all sizes, some small, some with visible fixed fractures, and scrolls, some hanging, their colors and calligraphy bright in color still, but most were rolled and tucked away.

The one that was hanging delicately on the very back wall of the shed caught his eye.

There was a woman on it, dressed in armor, battling the demons who had caught her in their grip. The colors of the scroll were dull, partially covered in dust, but the power and beauty of the image still shone through. Unconsciously, Inuyasha walked towards the scroll, as if pulled by some unknown force.

The old man noticed and began to speak to Inuyasha.

“Ah,” he said, not moving from cleaning the backside of the vase furiously, “I see you’ve noticed Midoriko’s final moments.”

Inuyasha was once again pulled back to his surroundings. “What?”

“Midoriko’s final moments. She battled a great hoard of demons before she was finally killed. She was one of our greatest ancestors. She was well known in her time for her strength and power.” Grandpa, having finished wiping and polishing the vase, stood, bones cracking, to join Inuyasha by the scroll.

“Her final resting place has been lost to history, but her sacrifice has not.”

Inuyasha nodded, looking back at the scene before him.

“Have you come looking for the Shikon no Tama?”

That was the last thing Inuyasha was expecting to hear. He heard his neck crack loudly in protest of how fast he turned it to look at the old man.

“What did you just say?”

“You’re a half demon, so I’m sure you’ve heard the tales of the Shikon no Tama being able to grant wishes. Have you come in search of it?”

“Do you have it?” Inuyasha whispered, his disbelief taking over every other emotion he was feeling.

The old man blew air, disturbing the dust on the scroll and revealing more of the color underneath. “No.”

Inuyasha paused for a moment, confused. “You don’t have it?”

“No.”

“Why did you bring it up?”

“Because we are Midoriko’s descendants, and her sacrifice is what brought it into the world. You must have come here looking for it.”

Inuyasha thought for a moment. While it was true, he was looking for the Shikon no Tama, he had no idea that this shrine was run by people who knew about it. That must have been why Miroku told him to come to this place. Suddenly feeling ashamed for reasons that he didn’t really understand, Inuyasha looked away and stared at the ground.

The old man next to him took his silence as an affirmation that the young man visiting them was indeed looking for the Shikon no Tama.

“Do you know the story of the Shikon no Tama? Of how it came to be?”

Inuyasha softly shook his head. The old man next to him began to tell the story of Midoriko’s final fight, and of the heart of the man who desired her. Inuyasha listened carefully to the story of the birth of the jewel, his mind reeling while trying to take it all in. He stared at the painted scroll in front of him, seeing the human face at the very bottom of the demon hoard and the hole where Midoriko’s heart should have been.

The old man was long winded, weaving a tale full of details and imagery, and as Inuyasha listened, he felt himself feeling as if he were there, watching the fight happen and feeling the desperation and rage that consumed the fighters.

He was so caught up in the story that the old man was telling that he didn’t hear the woman from the front enter the shed.

“Grandpa,” she called out, her voice piercing and disrupting the room, “are you bothering our visitor?”

Inuyasha turned on his heel and faced the priestess. The old man moved much slower, but he also turned around.

Grandpa answered her question, full of indignation, “No. He wanted to know the story.”

The woman raised an eyebrow at the old man, her grandfather Inuyasha presumed. “Is that so?”

“Yes, he’s looking for the Shikon no Tama.”

The woman walked forward and stood close to them. “Did you tell him that while it does grant a wish, it brings nothing but sorrow when it does. The beholder must ask for the perfect wish or they will suffer greatly for it?”

Inuyasha was surprised at this. The perfect wish?

“I was getting to that part.”

“I hope you told him we don’t have it.”

Inuyasha spoke this time, defending the old man. “He did. He was just telling me the story of the scroll.”

The woman looked over their shoulders at the painting. Her face fell slightly as she looked at it. “Ah,” she spoke slowly. “That’s why this all came up.”

The old man moved back to the vase, grunting a slight acknowledgement to the woman and waving at Inuyasha to help him move the vase back.

The woman moved closer to the scroll, lost in its imagery, paying no attention to Inuyasha and her grandfather moving the pottery back into its place.

This did not go unnoticed by Inuyasha, and he wondered why the woman seemed so enraptured by the painting. Certainly she had seen it a thousand times before?

Inuyasha put the vase back and watched as the old man left them in the shed alone. The woman didn’t seem to notice that they had been abandoned by the old man, who had left with some comment about going inside.

Inuyasha wanted to ask her what she was thinking, but he found himself too shy to be able to speak up.

Fortunately, she did for him.

“Why do you want the Shikon no Tama?”

Inuyasha’s eyes moved from looking around the room to resting on her form. She was still facing the scroll, so all he could look at was her back.

Before he could answer, she asked another question. “Is it because you are a half demon?”

Inuyasha stiffened at the comment. She had also noticed.

Scoffing loudly, as was his defense mechanism when he was caught off guard, Inuyasha rebuked, “So what if it is?”

Finally, the woman turned to face him. “You believe that the jewel can make you a full-blooded demon.”

Inuyasha crossed his arms and rolled his shoulders in reply to her.

“The jewel will not give you what you desire. It will take away your humanity as its price, and leave you mindless and unable to control yourself if you ask it to make you a full-blooded demon.”

Inuyasha clenched his jaw at her statement. It felt like an accusation to him. “So what if it does?”

The woman walked to be closer to him, her arms loose at her sides and her face unreadable. “You would sacrifice your humanity, the gift given to you by your human parent, just to escape the clutches of the judgement you face every day?”

“Look lady, you don’t know me-“

“No, I don’t. But I know that the cost of gaining what you think you desire is too high.”

Inuyasha didn’t have a retort to her. Her face was calm and soft, portraying no indication as to what she was feeling. He tried to read her, but he couldn’t.

She moved to walk past him, offering only one more comment. “We don’t have the jewel, but maybe we have what you are looking for.”

Inuyasha twisted his body to watch her walk out. “And what does that mean?” he shouted after her.

She paused for a moment, before looking over her shoulder at him. “What you are looking for is to belong. That is why you so desire the jewel and the temptation of what it offers. You are not the first in history to do what you are seeking.

“Others before you have been lost and never recovered from following the path you are walking. Perhaps, we can offer you a different path to walk.”

Inuyasha felt rage bubble to the surface. What did she know of him and what he was looking for? He shouted at her, storming to be closer to her face, “What the hell does that mean?”

The woman didn’t seem even remotely intimated by his behavior, which took Inuyasha by surprise. Instead, she offered her hand to him.

“My name is Kagome Higurashi. Would you like to come in for dinner?”

Her response startled him, but he took her hand and shook it slowly, forgetting his anger and his confusion at her statements earlier. “Inuyasha,” he introduced himself.

Kagome smiled and patted his hand with her other one, capturing his hand in a friendly way. “It’s nice to meet you.”

“And you, I guess.” Inuyasha stared at the way she held his hand in both of hers. No one had been so easy going in his presence before.

Kagome released his hands and stepped outside the shed, holding her arm out to tell him to join her. “We’re having oden for dinner. Please join us.”

While Inuyasha didn’t verbally respond to her statement, he nodded his agreement. As he stepped outside of the shed and followed Kagome into their large home, he also started walking a different path.

[wingcdhero]

☆ﾟ*・ﾟ headcanons  —  appearance / mutations !!

hawks has soooo many freckles. all over his cheek and face especially, but his shoulders & back are riddled with them as well. he’s always outside and much nearer to the sun than most anyone so his complexion isn’t quite as pale either. it’s a smooth, light tan almost all year around.

he has incredible eyesight. he can see up to 100 feet in front of him with perfect clarity & beyond that it’s blurred but not impossible to discern. also his pupils do this funny little thing where they dilate at a very odd rate. for multiple reasons - if he’s happy or looking at something he enjoys or if he’s tracking a villain / getting ready to apprehend someone. like hunting. you can see a gif of a hawk doing this here, if you’re interested !! but it’s a close up of the eye so be warned. you can also sort of see it in the manga here, when he’s confronting best jeanist. 

his hair has a bit of a feather like quality to it - hence his odd eyebrows. they’re softer, more like downy feathers i guess, but running your hands through it still feels a bit odder than average hair.

he has hollow bones so he’s incredibly light. it helps accommodate for flying. they don’t break easy by any means, but if he ever does get stuck with a broken bone, he has to find a specialist to fix it given the more animal like quality to them.

talons. he has talons. if he doesn’t regularly trim and care for his nails, they can be downright deadly with how easy they break skin.  

rubs hands. now for the fun mutations. big, big, big thanks and all my adoration to @pragmanic​ for giving me 90% of the idea for this. his hands are more talon / claw like in nature. the skin is courser & a bit pigmented & the joints are bit wonky looking if you look at them for too long. further up his arm, the skin gets softer, more average, but past his elbows he has small, sharp feathers along his arm that he can use defensively or offensively. like his other feathers, he can make them softer at will, but they’re used primarily for when he’s in close ranged combat or if his larger feathers from his wings have all been shed. the feathers look almost like scales on his arms. they’re very pretty.

his feet are - they’re human in look, but like his hands they’re jointed very odd. if you look too long, you see they’re a bit more elongated ?? it helps him be able to perch for long periods of times without harming any sort of arch in his foot. i don’t know how to describe it, but his feet are specifically structured to be bent in odd positions, particularly with his toes. 

he molts every years for about two or three days. essentially just means he’s stuck in his apartment while his feathers fall out & new ones grow in. it can be a painful process & he’s pretty miserable for that small time frame.  

the black points under/around his eyes isn’t eyeliner. it’s natural. he fills in the rims of his eyes with eyeliner to help smooth it out, but for the most part that’s just a part of his mutation. 

his teeth are sooo sharp. so sharp. canines. tough like a beak. please don’t let him bite you for real because it’s fatal if he’s aiming for it to be. 

he has both ears pierced, up the lobe & a helix piercing as well. industrial in one ear. his tongue is pierced, heh. also has a standard barbell brow piercing. 

no tattoos for the time being, but that’s liable to change if i can consider something i’d like him to have. 

he’s 5′4′’

i’m running out of steam & there’s too much already, but i couldn’t stop thinking about them so. hehe.

[pinkettepoet]

In Which She’s Caught In A Crossfire

Summary: Heated tension between you and Clint Barton surprisingly ends in unexpected confessions.

Warnings: Clint Barton x Fem!Reader, Violence, Decent Swearing (?), FLUFF.

Note: The last imagine absolutely exploded! I’m so happy that so many of you enjoyed it. For this one, all I have to say is that Hawkeye is one sexy man.

You were seething with anger.

And frankly, everyone in the Quinjet could see the heated tension between you and Clint. To be fair, you weren’t exactly subtle with the piercing glares you sent him or the murderous threats you muttered every time you passed by the famous Hawkeye.

Just the thought of Clint Barton brought fire to your veins. And for reasons that you couldn’t explain, you couldn’t get him out of your head. It was as if you didn’t know whether to hug him to death or to push him off a bridge.

You hated his stupid, large muscles. You hated the graceful baritone in his voice. You hated the way he acted so differently around you. Most of all, you hated his smirk that reeked of pride. But honestly, everything related to Clint Barton just set you off.

“So, uhm,” Steve coughed, poorly attempting to slice through the thick atmosphere. “Today was a successful mission—”

“I wouldn’t know.” You were quick to intervene, not missing a beat to throw another dark glare Clint who was seated across from you. “Someone kept me from all the action.”

You didn’t exactly have the tendency to be a violent woman. However, when a person stood in the way of you and your mission, there wasn’t much depth to it except that you felt cheated. Just as Clint did to you.

For today’s job, you were paired with Clint to keep an eye out for any Hydra agents who tried to run away. Him being on the lookout on the trees, and you dealing with them face to face.

Unfortunately, before you could even land a punch on anyone of them, a certain someone pierced an arrow right through their heart. He did that to every single one of them. Even when there was only literally one person.

When you confronted Clint about it on the way to the jet, he merely shrugged and said, “I’m just looking out for you, babe.”

It was a load of crap, honestly.

Just recalling the events today got your veins surging with irritation and fury. Clint had a habit of getting under your skin and today was no exception.

You were brought out of your thoughts when Natasha coughed beside you. It was only then you realized that your gaze was on Clint himself, or rather his lips.

“Daydreaming about me, sweetheart?” He smirked. At this point, you were seconds away from punching his perfectly structured face.

Perfect? Where the hell did that come from?

Must have been the heat getting to your head.

“Only about how much I want to bite your head off, sweetie.” You plastered the most bittersweet smile on your face, hoping to piss him off instead the man smiled widely.

“May I ask why Sir Barton and the Lady Y/N are in a quarrel? Is this some sort of mating ritual between mortals?” Thor said, his booming voice filling up the room.

Gone was the discomposed tension in the air, and replaced it was a series of awkward coughing. However, you and Clint never ceased from your stare down. In the background, you could hear the God of Mischief blasting with laughter, clearly the only one who didn’t give a damn.

“Thor, honey, I would never associate myself with an idiot like Clint.” And as melodic as you tried to make your voice sound, you knew that the venom in your words would reach Clint.

A part of you exploded with pleasure when you saw Clint stand up, eyes burning with rage. Finally, you got to see the layer underneath his sarcasm. You finally ticked the bomb within him.

“How am I the idiot for trying to protect you?” He asked. For some reason his harsh tone and the cold stare sent irregular shivers to your spine.

You brushed the fact away and stood up. You tried to make yourself seem taller but failed miserably as you could only seem to come in contact with his chin. Despite that, you put in every fiber of your being to intimidate him.

“If you didn’t notice, Clint, I’m an Avenger. And for a good bloody reason, too.” Your tone was raising higher, fueling with rage by the millisecond.

“Well, I’m sorry if I worry about you!” He took a few steps closer to you. His presence overwhelming you to the bone. It seemed as if you drowned out everyone else.

That sentence earned a scoff from you. It was a lie and you both knew it. The man didn’t have the ability to care for you, he just wanted to see you crash and burn.

“You worry about Nat but I don’t see you coddling her during missions, do I?” You spat out as loud as he did. It was becoming a crossfire and you were determined to make it out alive.

“That’s because she’s different, Y/N!” Clint fired back with just as much rage and insult.

“How is she different, Clint?” You practically screamed. “We both have eyes, nose, ears, and whatever. And as far as I’m concerned, we both have breasts! So tell me, how are we dif—”

“Because I love you, you dumb girl!”

“So I’m the dumb one now? Wow, you really are— wait what?” You paused, his words finally registering into your brain. And damn if that didn’t stop your heart for a bit.

“I love you, Y/N.” His tone was softer now, gentler. There was no more malice and you could practically feel the adoration seeping through.

Love?

Your mind became dizzy as you searched for anything that could have led to this. Instead, there were only images of you salivating of the man himself. How could you be so stupid?

“I have loved you ever since you came into the compound, wearing that stupid hat of yours—”

“My hat isn’t stupid. You are.” You whispered, eyes still locked on to his. You prayed hard that he didn’t hear the nervousness in your voice.

You still didn’t understand why your body was reacting this way. How could a simple sentence turn your insides putty?

“Of course, it is.” He laughed, tucking a stray hair behind your ear. “But it seemed like the most beautiful thing on earth when you wore it.”

“I love the way you don’t back down from a fight, the fire in your eyes is just something else. I love the way that you fight everyone for your food. I love the dimples when you smile, right there below your eye. I love you, Y/N.”

“And I’ll be spending the rest of my life making sure you know that.” Clint‘s arms came around you, pulling you for a hug. Then his hands slowly came down to your shoulders, tracing the outline of your body until he settled them onto your waist.

You tucked your bottom lip between your teeth, hoping to hide the smile. You didn’t even notice any of that. Unfortunately, you let your emotions get to the best of you as a small laugh escaped past your lips.

Surprisingly, you were rendered speechless and as you were thinking of something coherent to say, Tony interrupted your thoughts and suddenly stood up. If it weren’t for him, you’d have forgot that there were other people. You shyly moved away from Clint but he pulled you back to his body.

“Alright, people, pay up.” Tony laid his palm flat out for everyone to see. Slowly, Pietro, Steve, Bruce, Peter, and Loki put a handful of dollar bills onto his hand.

“What’s this?” You cleared your throat, trying to not let the stares faze you. But your head was so high up in the clouds that you didn’t care.

“They,” Tony said smugly, pointing to those who had just paid him. “Bet that you would kill Clint before he could confess his feelings for you.”

“And I,” Natasha grinned, grabbing all the money showcased for her. “Bet that Clint would confess his love for Y/N in the sappiest way sometime this month.”

“Why are you all against me?” Clint chuckled, tightening his hold on you. “Also, this month is oddly specific.”

“Oh, yeah,” Wanda shuddered, accepting the money from the others. “I saw your thoughts about Y/N and I was pretty sure you were going to explode by the end of the month.”

Soon laughter and teasing exceeded the jet’s space. You didn’t focus on that, instead you gave your full attention to Clint’s lips which were hovering around your ear. Not a moment later, you heard the very voice that sent goosebumps all over your body.

“You do know that this means I’m going to be even more protective of you now? I’m probably going to spend the rest of my life scaring away everyone I hate who comes near you.” He whispered.

“Then I’m going to spend the rest of my life kicking your ass.” You said.

Then Clint smiled, “You do know that you just said we’re going to spend our lifetime together?”

“I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

(marvel tag list: @not-jk-rowling, @hydraliciousbarnes, @thewhinersoldier)

[bnha-love-imagines-blog]

Mariska #1

Character Profile Full name: Mariska Josephine-Esmeralda Marie-Anne Arlovskaya

Pronunciation: Mar-e-ska Jo-sef-ene Es-mer-al-da Mary-Ann Ar-lov-sky-a

Meaning of Name: Mariska: Of Bitter Sea in Hungarian; Josephine: Diminutive of Joseph (He will add); Esmeralda: Emerald in Portuguese; Marie; Rebellion; Anne: God’s Favor; Arlovskaya; Surname in Belarus

Hero/Villain Name: Alegria (Joy in Portuguese) the Thoughtful hero

Nicknames: Mari, Jo-Jo, Alda, Annie

History of Nicknames: Mari: Diminutive of first name; Jo-Jo: Jealous cousin called her this when he would visit the Arlovskaya estate in order to make fun of her; Alda: Her parents called her this frequently; Annie: Diminutive of Anne

Aliases: N/A

Nationality: Portuguese-Belorussian

Affiliation: Hero

Student Number: 25

Quirk: this would be the official label of the quirk, the in-depth description of it is later: Telekinesis/Pathokinesis

Birthday and Astrology Sign: September 27/Libra

Age: 15 turning 16

How old do they look: 16

Mental Age: 19

Gender: Female/She/Her

Orientation/Sexuality Preference: Bisexual/Biromantic

Birth date: September 27

Birth place: Homyel

Death date: N/A

Death place: N/A

Appearance: Eye color: also mention if this is unusual in the family or society.: Sea foam green eyes

Eye shape: Deep set eyes

Do they wear contacts or glasses?: Reading glasses Hair: Waist length naturally wavy naturally dark blonde hair; dyed strawberry blonde ombre to ash blonde

Height: 5′5

Weight: 140

Body build: slim, lean, muscular, overweight, etc.: Slim thick (small, lean waist, good amount of muscle on bum and legs)

Body shape: pear, hourglass, rectangle, etc.: Hourglass

Complexion: Rose ivory

Cup size: D

Blood Type: O+

Handedness: Right handed

Hand type: big hands, tiny hands, delicate hands, long fingers, short fingers, calloused hands, etc.: Delicate with some callouses from baking and cooking, long fingers, small compared to any male’s

Nails: long, short, dirty, clean, etc.: Oval shaped, long, painted nude, clean

Movement: Graceful

How do they walk: fast, with a limp, slow, hop in their step, swinging arms etc.: Toe first from years of dance

Posture: Relaxed, straight

Flexibility: Ballerina/Gymnast level

Voice: Mezzo-Soprano Belorussian accented

Speech Mannerisms: do they pause, stutter, say “um”, etc.: Licks lips between words, lisp when saying c’s

Scars: A scar on her right hip from her grandfather over pushing her in training and stabbing her (nicked her uterus almost causing her to become sterile but didn’t); A burn scar on her left shoulder from when she made a comment about how she believed they killed her parents

Birthmarks: if any: N/A

Piercings: if any: Double standard earlobe; nose stud on the right

Tattoos: if any: N/A

General face structure: like high cheeks bones, or looks like (insert celebrity): High cheekbones; Facial features are that of Perrie Edwards

Defining physical traits: N/A

Statistics: Power: ★★★☆☆ C  

Speed: ★★★ ☆ ☆ C

Technique: ★★★★☆ B  

Intelligence: ★★★★★ A  

Cooperativeness: ★★ ★ ★ ☆ B

Extra Explanation: N/A

Quirk and description: Telekinesis: Ability to move things with her mind (includes lifting people) Will get bad migraines and ringing in her ears if used too much; Pathokinesis: The ability to sense and control others emotions, Unable to use it on loved ones and has less control over her own emotions after using it for 30 minutes

Clothing: Uniform: UA High School Uniform

Casual outfit: (Changes frequently)

Preferred outfit: Leggings, off brand converse, a faded guns’n’roses crop top

Hero/Villain costume: Catsuit

Equipment / Support Items: if used: Handcuffs, taser, retractable police baton

Accessories: N/A

Jewelry: Rose gold locket with both her parents’ pictures in it, a gold ring with an opal that her father gave her before he died

Characteristics:

Personality:Kind, intelligent, daydreamer; stubborn, frivolous, gullible

Myers-Briggs Type: ENFP-T

Alignment: Chaotic good

Big Five personality traits: Extroversion: 96%; Agreeableness: 95%; Intelligence/Imagination: 91%; Emotional Stability: 9%; Conscientiousness: 5%

Enneagram: Type 2: The Helper

Most prominent personality trait: Kindness

Best traits: that others can see, they believe, etc.: Her kindness

Worst traits: that others can see, they believe, etc.: Her inability to follow plans

Likes: Anything they like to do, eat or see. :  Music, dance, literature, culture (Portuguese, Belorussian, Japanese), yoga, cuisine Dislikes: Anything they don’t like to do, eat or see.:  Large bugs, clowns, her grandparents

Quirks:  (not the superpower but little silly things they do) Hums as she does something, taps her fingers, twirls her hair, rolling her tongue Fear: Her grandparents killing more of those she loves, clowns, large bugs, being too weak

Hobbies: Singing, dancing, reading, yoga, going to the gym, eating, playing guitar, and cooking/baking

Skills/Talents:  Singing, Dancing, Flexibility, Playing guitar, piano, and violin

Strengths: Combat, Intelligence Weaknesses: Her kindness, gullibilty

Reason to keep on living: It would make her parents proud

What is their self-image like: Appearance wise: She believes she’s beautiful except for her scars Personality wise: She is happy with who she is Overall: Okay but hates her past and everything relating to it

Any religious or spiritual faith: Freelance Catholic (Prays with rosary, confesses sins daily, goes to church during holidays, worships the saints)

How does this faith / lack of affect them: It connects her to her mother. She feels at home when she comes home and is able to pray the way she and her mother would when she was a child with the rosary beads

What superstitions do they have: Walking under ladders, breaking mirrors, spilling salt, using the Lord’s name in vain

Coping mechanisms: Prayer, cuddling with her love(s)/her dogs/both

Any life motto or quote they live by: don’t be a jerk, yolo, cup should be half-full always, etc.: “A little thought and a little kindness is worth a lot more than any amount of money”

Favorite things:

Favorite Food(s): Kletski, Galushki, Tsibriki, Arroz Doce, Dobradinha, and Bacalhau com natas

Favorite Drink(s): Water, Green Tea, Coffee

Favorite Color(s): Teal, Purple

Favorite Animal(s): Dogs, Red Pandas

Favorite Number: 13

Favorite Season(s): Fall

Favorite Holiday(s): Christmas (Parents favorite holiday)

Favorite Time of Day: Sunset

Health:

Physical: Healthy

Mental: Not the best because of PTSD and Depression

Emotional Stability: Not the perfect but not terrible when her pathokinesis hasn’t been used

If faced with crisis, what is their go-to: fight, flight, or freeze: If there is someone in danger, fight. If she is in danger or it’s a natural happenstance, flight

Nutrition: Very well, home cooked meals almost daily, has a bit of a sweet tooth though

Habits: this could be sleeping habits, eating habits, nervous ticks, biting fingernails, etc.: Sleeps on left side and mumbles in sleep, eats with mouth closed and as nobility style etiquette, bounces her leg when nervous as well as taps her fingers, meditates and prays daily, good care of body, if she's in a big crowd, she'll accidentally sense a negative emotion or will change someone else's emotion if she is very emotional around those she doesn't know

Family History: example, a certain mental illness or physical disease runs in the family: N/A

History, Background, and Future:

0-4: Happy; Her grandparents seemed kind enough

5-8: She understands more but her parents will protect her

9-11: Age ten, her parents are killed when a piece of construction from the new garden house mysteriously falls in. Her paternal grandparents care for her when her maternal side isn’t doing so; both begin to train her rigorously

12-14: Is trained to beating and pain, she loathes both sides as she knows they caused the “accident”

15-Present: Moves to Japan after getting into U.A

Did they like their upbringing: Loved it until her parents’ death

How has their upbringing shape them: She has become lowkey bitter to older people unless shown they are kind

What did they enjoy most about their childhood?: Cooking with her mom, playing piano with her father, running through the garden

What did they hate most about their childhood?: The pain of loss and the burden of becoming great

Current Dream: be the number one pro-hero, run a successful company, etc.: Be pro-hero with proud parents

Long-term goals for Future: get married, have kids, be successful, be a pro-hero, etc.: Pro-hero married with kids

Home:

Home Life as a Kid: abusive, supportive, neglecting, etc.: Happy then abusive

Home Life Now: abusive, supportive, neglecting, etc.: Generally quiet until moves into dorms and now it’s very supportive and loud

Relationships:

Parent(s): Chiara (Carriedo) Arlovskaya, Ivan Arlovskaya

Sibling(s): N/A

Relative(s): Carmella Carriedo and Antonio Carriedo, Natalya Arlovskaya and Dmitri Arlovskaya

Best Friend(s): Midoriya Izuku, Momo Yaoyorozu, Ochako Uraraka

Friend(s): Iida Tenya, Tsuyu Asui, Kirishima Eijirou

Crush(es): Todoroki Shouto, Katsuki Bakugou, Midoriya Izuku

Pet(s): A Husky named Chi-Chi and a German Shepherd named Vanny (both named after her parents)

Rival(s): N/A

Enemy: Villains, Mineta

Extra:

Smells like Strawberries and Vanilla

Works in a bakery

Social media queen

Amazing photographer with cell phone

Hates snack cakes

Theatre Nerd

Speaks Portuguese, Belorussian, English, and Japanese

Has met Gran Torino and is unofficially his granddaughter

I have edited @izukulove ‘s oc form but nevertheless, it is still theirs and I hope they do not mind my using and editing it! This is the newer, updated version of Mariska! I will number each post by order of release.