#and then he walks off into the mist never to be seen again

[monstersighing]

18+ NSFW MDNI

M Tentacled Sea God x AFAB Reader

Title: Deep

Content: tentacle sex, knotting, impact play (spanking), dirty talk, possessiveness, praise kink.

(Other works featuring the same monster can be found via my masterlist, but this can be read as a standalone).

+++

Three weeks had passed since you’d seen Lir, the sea god you’d summoned to your bed with your wishes and desires. You’d called and he hadn’t answered. You felt empty and hot blooded enough to go out to a bar and fuck the first man who’d shown you attention.

He’d been sweet, the man you met at the bar, six drinks deep on an evening out with your work colleagues. You’d taken him home and let him fuck you from behind against the window of your apartment. You’d watched the storm lash against the sea. You’d imagined the cock inside you was Lir’s tentacles and the hands on your hips were larger, with sharp nails. He’d come inside you with a grunt and worked his fingers across your clit. You only came when he agreed to call you a slut and pulled your hair, imagining the accusation in a deeper voice.

You’d handed the man his clothes and he’d left in a taxi not long after.

I fucked someone else and I’m glad, you thought as loud as you could, stood at the sea’s edge. Hoping your words would reach Lir, even if he didn’t reply.

+++

Sunrise comes, and you walk out of your house, across the patio and down to the sand of the beach. Then to the shore. The tide is in, so you leap up to the rocks, pick your way across rock pools and perch at the furthest point you can reach. The spray from the waves mists your face.

The sun rises higher, and you lie down flat against the rocks, the sun warming your face, your shoulders, the bare skin of your belly between your swim shorts and top. You doze.

You wake to a shadowy figure above you, blocking the sunlight. It is Lir. His body bracketing yours, tentacles undulating above and behind him.

“I heard you. I know what you did,” he says.

Your hands reach up, and you touch the planes of his face. As you look into his dark, seal-like eyes, you say, “I missed you,” and then “I’m sorry.”

“You’re mine, you know that.” Two of his tentacles wrap around your wrists and push your hands down so they are resting either side of your head.

“But you left,” you say. “You left me alone.”

“I had things to attend to. During the storms, people ask for me. I save them and I grow stronger.”

He does seem larger than before, somehow. Sleeker and more muscled. The deep blue of his skin more vibrant.

“I’m yours. I won’t ever again. I’m sorry.”

“Words,” Lir says. “You need to show me.” Your cunt throbs, the sound of his voice alone has you feeling slick and warm.

“How?” Tears prickle your eyes, and your face feels hot. You need to make this right.

“I’m going to punish you. Then I’m going to fill every hole in your body and fuck your cunt full of my cum until you can’t remember what that man felt like.”

You whine then, and arch up desperate for Lir’s skin on yours. He hasn’t come inside your cunt yet. He’s spilt his seed on your body and in your mouth, pushed tentacles and feelers into your pussy and hole. But never that. You want it desperately, more than anything you can ever remember desiring.

“Yes. Please. Yes,” you whimper.

Lir lifts you then, and you are laid prone across his lap. Water slick tentacles hold your arms and legs in place, wrapping tightly. His hands pull your shorts down and off and knead at your exposed ass cheeks.

“Ten hits, and you will count them. Do you understand?”

“Yes,” you say.

A tentacle slaps down against your left ass cheek. You jolt forward. “One,” you say.

Another tentacle slaps down against your right ass cheek, harder than the first, the loud crack of impact, shocking you. “Two,” you say.

Lir carries on, each slap of a tentacle harder, and swifter than the last. You wriggle, and the tentacles coiled around your legs and arms tighten and pull, so your body is taut. “Be good,” Lir warns. The hot sting of each hit becomes one warm bright ache. You feel your mind empty, except for the need to count each strike.

You’re sobbing by the time you reach ten, tears dripping off the tip of your nose. You’re unsure whether you want to pull away or wriggle your ass out to beg for more punishment.

Lir’s voice breaks into your thoughts then: “You have been good. You’re forgiven.” His hand strokes your head, while the other presses against the burning heat of your buttocks, soothing. You bask in his touch, but you want more. When the tentacles gripping your legs and arms loosen and fall away, you scrabble up off Lir’s lap to kneel in front of him. You spread your legs wide and pull off your top so you are fully naked, flushed and desperate.

Drawing you close he bends to kiss your mouth, tongue running across the seam of your lips and then pressing inside. His hands stroke across your back and his mouth dips to the side of your neck. You arch and feel the press against of his open mouth and his teeth against the skin there, like a promise. He pushes you back against the rocks and pulls your legs over his sides, so your body is stretched and displayed for him, from your wet waiting cunt to your hard aching nipples to your open pleading mouth. The sea breeze blows over all your naked skin, making your shiver.

“Please,” you whine.

“Please what, my pet?” Lir says, and he smiles.

“I’m sorry. You said if I was sorry, you’d fuck me.”

“Patience. I shouldn’t have left you so long, should I? You’re a slut.”

“I’m a slut,” you agree.

Propping yourself up on your elbows allows you to see Lir’s hard dick. It’s big, a sucker studded ridge near the base, and a fringe of feelers above his pubic bone that undulate as if seeking out touch.

One of Lir’s tentacles seek out your pussy, its pointed edge tracing against your lips. You try to push down, but the tentacles’ touch dances away and then returns light. Other tentacles glide up your body, flick at your nipples and attach themselves, suckers milking and then clenching, making your cunt twitch in sympathy. All you want is to be filled and used and know you are forgiven.

Shifting over you, Lir grips his cock and rubs it against your entrance, getting it slick. When he pushes the tip of his cock into you, you sigh. He’s wide. You feel him push inside you inch by inch, your walls stretching to accommodate him. It hurts so good you force your hips down until his cock is fully seated inside you, your legs trembling at the feeling of fullness. The frill of feelers around the base of his cock brush against your exposed clit, over and over.

He starts with shallow thrusts that have your craving more, then he plunges deeper, deeper. Boxed in by Lir’s body, your hands wrap around his wide neck. You pant and whimper into his mouth as he kisses you, his tongue deep, until his thrusts make it so his kisses are just glancing presses against any part of your face his lips can reach. You come clenching and trembling around his fat cock with a wail.

Lir pauses as your orgasm ripples through you. And then starts again. He is harsher now, his rhythm gone ragged, chasing his own pleasure. A tentacle fucks into your mouth and you suck on it. Another tentacle pushes against your asshole, circles the ring of muscle until it loosens, and rams deep inside. Lir’s cock and the tentacle slide in and out of your holes in counterpoint, and you feel full almost to bursting.

I can’t I can’t your mind says, you can’t come again. And then you do, your cunt filled with Lir’s cock, your hole filled with a thick tentacle and your mouth with the sinuous press of his tongue as he kisses you. He pushes the deepest he has into your cunt with his cock and you feel his cum slick your insides in spurts. You feel the ridged edge of his dick expand, plugging the cum inside you, suckers twitching and holding tight when your hips jerk with the aftershock of coming.

“My knot,” he says, and presses a hand just above your pubic bone. “It’ll keep you full of my cum.”

You’re too overwhelmed to speak, so you just hum, and let Lir wrap you in his tentacles.

“I shouldn’t have left you alone for so long,” he says. You settle against him, cradled in the arms of your monster and sigh in happiness. You’re happy to wait until his knot loosens, and sure that when it does he will be ready to fuck you again.

[gladiatorcunt]

- BELLY OF THE BEAST | II.

the ocean washed open your grave

cw: kinktober prompt (teratophilia), made up mer anatomy, double penetration (in reader’s ass and pussy) w/ two dicks on one guy, implied painal, merman!john b with siren tendencies, mer people eat humans, implied somnophilia and kidnapping and oviposition, mating rituals but only one party knew about them, background jjpope, blood, extremely dubious consent bordering on non con, implied plus size reader, reader’s intentionally silent, yandere

please do not repost, translate, or feed this work to ai

kinktober 2024

It’s the heart of july. You can see Venus this evening. Picked clean fish bones scuttle along the pebbled gray beach like a rake sifting through bramble. Broken shells litter the sand, shards of vivid color and shades of dull nude turned this way and that. Someone’s inspecting them on the edge of the water, angling their hands in strange ways to investigate how the sunlight shimmers off the shell. They’re agitated, their search going unsatisfied, loose strings of thread frayed at the ends without objects to connect.

Summer is stressing you out, too much time spent feeling pressure to have experiences when you should really be lounging the dog days away in an old timey rocking chair. You’d cringe at the condensation sliding down your glass of sweet tea. You’re on an aimless walk on the beach instead, keeping a wide berth from the shore.

That’s when you see him.

A sunken sunbeam on earth. His tail is a myriad of red-yellow-orange scales, when he moves he becomes a human man on fire. The flick of his ruby tail fin looks like flame taking shape in the open sea, something that you know is basically impossible, maybe your brain is swelling. But it gives you a moth’s wings all the same. You rub your eyes but he’s still there when you open them again.

A merman.

He’s hissing at the blonde guy fooling around with the shells, “JJ, get your tail back home or so help me.”

Which to you is just a series of clicks and trills.

“JJ” snorts, sticking his tongue out and going back to rifling through the shells.

You stand around awkwardly, transfixed and somehow unable to move away. The merman with brown hair finally spots you and his eyes widen for a split second before he makes a distressed bunch of clicks, to which the blonde one seems to get the message and dart under the surface of his water. His pile of shells are left unattended on the shore.

The brunette merman clears his throat, “Hi, there. What’s your name?” His voice is groggy around the unnatural syllables, but his tone is smooth and enticing.

You freeze, and all thoughts of sneaking away are out the window. You’ve seen him, you can’t ask him to trust that you wouldn’t tell anybody about him, not that they’d even believe you. Still, having insurance never hurt nobody.

You find yourself making footprints in the sand, stepping forward until you’re right in front of the merman, looking down at him like a child peers down a well. A cold sensation splashes at your spine through your clothes, but he doesn’t sing so he must not be a siren, that or he doesn’t need to sing to ensure you in his talons.

His teeth would give a great white shark the shivers as he smiles, mouthing your name back to you in the sea air.

The sloshing of the waves under the setting sun is all you can hear, and his warm brown eyes are all you can see. The world swirls around you, becoming mist that falls to the ground and is swiftly swept out to sea. One minute you’re plopping yourself down on the sand in front of the merman’s grinning face, and the next he’s scraping the edge of his talon along your thigh.

Men will be men, no matter the species.

“My name’s John B.” He says, his pupils dilating at the scent of your blossoming arousal, a shark with a single drop of the blood in the ocean. “So nice to meet you, babe.”

Later you’ll remember stuttering, trying to make excuses to peel away and run for the hills. But John B clicks disappointingly and sucks his teeth, fishing a stuck piece of flesh out from in between them. It’s the skin and hair still on that bit of meat that makes you stay, another stupid decision you’ll kick yourself for later if you even survive. You try to open your mouth to speak, but the movement is sluggish and your words feel trapped in your vocal chords by some kind of force field.

How much can you explain away putting yourself in danger because the man with a fish’s tail and gills was hot? John B smiles from ear to ear when you give into the pull between you two, swishing his crimson tail fin back and forth as your eyes fixate on the flecks of melted gold in his.

Hours seem to pass by in a blur and when you’re aware of reality again, you’re on your back with John B hovering above you. His talons are buried in the sand on either side of your head, and the full moon behind him sparks a feeling of trepidation in your belly.

He smiles, razor sharp teeth glinting in the moonlight. “Do you trust me?”

You try to answer and he laughs, his sharp claws scraping against your nose as he boops it. John B knows you can’t actually form the words, but lucky for you he has a knack for knowing exactly how you’re feeling. And pushing you to feel however they’d need you to, but he digresses, it’s the cusp of mating season after all. He’s not going to pump you full of his eggs, but those first glimpses of your thighs in your swimsuit has his cocks itching to come out.

JJ is probably back moping with the others anyway, they’ll have found some other poor unsuspecting humans for dinner and settled in for the night. He can be a little late to catch up with his pod, just this once.

Your mouth drops open as John B grinds his lower half against yours, having ripped off your swimsuit bottoms in the blink of an eye like it was nothing.

His scales give you little cuts here and there, but their smooth texture and the way their coolness soothes the heat licking at your body has you trying to gasp.

You feel an opening push against your pussy, semi-hard folds with the hint of a deeper recess. You’d have no serious problem if you spent your night bumping pussies with what some would say is a freak of nature, but then you feel a couple slight bumps in the middle of his folds.

John B grins, bloodthirsty.

“Gotta coax ‘em out of their sheath, give ‘em something to fuck into.” He grits, pressing your hand to the outer sheath and guiding your coaxing movements, little rubs and pats. “And lucky for me, I've found the perfect thing. I’m sorry, I normally don’t play with my food. That’s JJ’s thing.”

He tsks, and half out of fear and half out of crazed desire your rubbing becomes more focused and your pats turn into love taps. Sure enough, two long cocks begin to jut out from his opening. They’re the same fiery color as his tail, each as thick as your forearm, with more of a tapered tip than a human cock and sort of squishy even when they’re hard. You don’t want to even try to guess how big they are, definitely larger than any human’s dick could be.

You hear a woosh go through your ears and you find that you can little sounds into his salty lips now, whining as they brush against yours. John B hums what sounds like a lullaby and you feel your pussy release a gush of slick, loosening up to prepare itself to be torn apart.

You whimper into his mouth as he teases the tips of his cocks against both of your entrances, and he kisses you quiet as he starts to push in without warning. His teeth cut your lip open, and the taste and scent of your blood only spurs him on more.

“Oh, that’s it, human. Work that pretty ass back on me.” He trills hypnotically, his scales scratching against your flesh as he slams both of his cocks to the hilt inside of your holes. “Look at you, pounded all sloppy by monster cocks you can’t even see.”

You can’t really scream, when you try it just sounds like the last weak sound someone would make before they die. But… you don’t feel any pain, and you look to confirm that you’ve indeed taken every inch of the merman’s dicks. A plus to fucking a monster with powers, you guess, you know he could’ve made you feel, could’ve ripped your walls open and used your blood as lube to work up an appetite.

His teeth keep cutting you as he kisses you, graciously letting you adjust before flicking his tail fin in the air and fucking you into the sand back. His talons slide all over your body, playing pat-a-cake with the skin on your tummy and groping your tits when one of his thrusts has his cocks feeling particularly good. You moan when he pinches your nipples, his claws scratching your pert buds just right as his cocks split you in what seems like four different directions.

You reach up to shakily grab onto his wet shoulders, closing your eyes as the summer night breeze wafts over you. Till a sharp poke to your cheek makes you open them again. Ah, he wants you to see what kind of “man” you’re really fucking. Once again, men will be men even when they live underwater.

The cock in your pussy hits a spot deep inside you that has you gasping for air, a useless effort since John B does it again and again and again. Your hands fall to brush along his gills, divots in his torso with smaller fins extending outwards, wanting to firmly grab that part of his torso but also not wanting to incite a frenzy in the merman.

If only you’d known that a mer’s gills are even more sensitive than their genitalia. The second your finger tips touch the small flaps, John B hisses and digs his talons into your love handles, drawing blood as he picks up his thrusts. His tail thumps against the sand, how he has the strength to life all 200+ pounds of his body and tail to fuck you in a missionary sort of position is beyond you.

Your voice is gone at this point, carried away by the wind into the night. You wrap your arms around John B’s neck and hold on, smelling the salt water and something sweet like coconut, letting the motions of his cocks molding your insides around them move through you. The one in your ass rebels against the tightness of your asshole, bullying it with every stroke with what little slick trickled down into the rim from your pussy.

He wraps his strong arms around your waist and lifts your hips up, forcing you to take him at a deeper angle. John B grounds him by gripping your ass cheeks, his talons pushing into the thick globes, drawing blood there too. He doesn’t have the leverage or means to properly smack them, but that’s something for next time, seeing how the water would ripple around them with every slap.

You’re dazed, lying there and taking it. You hear music, drums and rumbling vocals, but there’s no one around and no one’s singing. You’re bleeding from a few different places, so maybe it’s dizziness brought on by blood loss that emboldens you to pull the merman into another kiss. Even as his cock in your pussy pummels your g spot and the one in your ass abuses the puckered hole, John B is strangely mindful of his teeth this time.

Your tongues shyly flick against each other, he clicks and slaps his tail fin on the sand bank in quick succession. Instead of quickening his thrusts as he swims towards release, the merman slows down, shimmying his hips and jostling his cocks inside you. The moonlight combined with your blood and the joining of your bodies means you’ve signed up for something you can’t even comprehend.

John B tentatively skirts a talon down your stomach, deep in thought as well as deep in your guts.

“You know what? I think this needs to be round anyway, be a shame for you to be another skeleton decorating our cave.” Are the last words you hear before a wet hand closes around your throat and a louder lullaby reaches your ears. “We’ll figure out the whole “human” thing later, I could kiss JJ for wanting to waste his time on finding shells for Pope.”

Distant whoops and cheers follow you into unconsciousness.

[iamgonnagetyouback]

Sweater weather and remus lupin plssss

𝐒𝐖𝐄𝐀𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐖𝐄𝐀𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐑

The wind whips through the trees, the golden and red leaves swirling in the air as they fall to the ground, carpeting the earth in a riot of autumn color. The chill is sharper today, seeping into your bones despite the thick jumper you’re wearing. You wrap your arms around yourself, pulling the sleeves down over your cold hands as you walk, boots crunching on the gravel of the Hogwarts grounds. It’s peaceful, in a way. The brisk air makes your cheeks flush, and the solitude of the evening feels like a gentle hug from the season itself.

But you’re not alone for long.

You hear footsteps behind you—familiar, quiet, purposeful. You don’t turn around. You know who it is, the gentle scrape of his shoes against the ground already bringing a small smile to your lips. And soon enough, a warm presence is at your side, Remus Lupin’s familiar face coming into your peripheral vision.

He doesn’t say anything at first. The silence between you is comfortable, like it always is. The two of you have never needed words to communicate the little things, the feelings that bubble beneath the surface. There’s a weight in his gaze that’s always lingered there—melancholy mixed with something gentler, something reserved for you.

Remus exhales slowly, his breath misting in the cool air, and for a moment you glance at him, your eyes meeting his soft brown ones. They hold a tenderness, as if he’s trying to say something without saying it, his hands deep in the pockets of his jacket.

“I thought I’d find you here,” he murmurs after a while, his voice low and rough, tinged with affection.

You shrug, looking back at the lake in front of you, where the water ripples gently under the breeze. “It’s nice here in autumn.”

“It is,” he agrees quietly, stepping closer, so close that his arm brushes against yours. “You looked cold.”

Before you can respond, he’s already unbuttoning his worn-out cardigan, the one you’ve seen him wear a hundred times before. Without hesitation, he slips it off and drapes it over your shoulders, his fingers grazing your skin in the process. The touch sends a shiver down your spine that has nothing to do with the cold.

“Remus, I—” you begin, but he cuts you off gently.

“It’s too cold for you, dove,” he says, giving you a small smile. “I’d feel better if you wore it.”

You pull the cardigan tighter around yourself, the scent of him—faint tobacco, old books, and something uniquely Remus—enveloping you in warmth. The fabric is soft, a little worn at the edges, and you can tell it’s been loved over the years. Just like you’ve been loved, quietly, deeply, even if it’s never been said aloud.

“Thanks,” you murmur, glancing at him. His hair is tousled, a few strands falling into his eyes, and you reach up instinctively, brushing them away. He stills at your touch, his breath hitching for the briefest of moments, but he doesn’t pull away. Instead, his hand finds yours, gently holding it in his.

“Do you ever think about leaving?” you ask softly, your eyes drifting back to the lake, to the vastness of the world beyond Hogwarts.

He pauses, his thumb brushing over the back of your hand. “Sometimes,” he admits, voice quiet. “But then I think about what I’d be leaving behind.”

Your heart skips a beat. You know what he means. You know who he means.

The silence stretches between you again, but it’s heavier this time, full of unspoken things that linger in the air like the fog rolling over the water. You shiver slightly, and Remus notices. Without a word, he steps closer, his arm slipping around your shoulders, pulling you into his warmth. You rest your head against his chest, closing your eyes and letting yourself sink into the moment, into him.

It’s too cold to be out here, but you don’t mind. Not when you have Remus beside you, his hand tracing lazy circles on your back, his breath warm against your hair.

“We could leave, you know,” he whispers, so quietly you almost don’t hear him. “We could go somewhere far away from all of this. Just us.”

It’s an impossible thought, but for a second, you let yourself imagine it. The two of you, together, somewhere far away where the weight of the world doesn’t press so heavily on his shoulders. Where his secrets don’t matter, where your fears don’t hold you back.

You look up at him, meeting his gaze, and for the first time, you see the vulnerability there. The part of him that he hides from the world, that he’s only ever shared with you. And in that moment, you know that wherever you are, as long as you’re with him, you’ll be okay.

“It’s too cold for you here, dove,” he repeats softly, but this time, the words hold more meaning. His eyes search yours, and you know he’s not just talking about the weather.

You lean up, pressing a soft kiss to his cheek, and you feel him smile against your skin. “Not when I’m with you.”

[xoxoxkisses]

Admiration

warnings:none

————————————————————————

Muichiro had seen you pass by on his afternoon walk. It’s common to see other demon slayers pass by him, but you were different and he didn’t know why. Maybe it was the way your hair blew in the subtle breeze, or maybe the way you laughed. Your cheerful laugh carried itself to him even though there was a good distance between you two. You glanced over at him after feeling someone staring, when you looked over you saw him looking. You gave him a small smile and waved at him. Without realizing it, he waved back, mesmerized by you. What was going on? Why did he feel this way? The way his heart fluttered and his face got warm, it was all foreign to him.

“Oh my gosh Y/n! Muichiro waved at you!” Your friend whispered yelled so he wouldn’t hear. “Who?” You tilted your head at her. She facepalmed. How could you not know who Muichiro Tokito was? “The Mist Hashira dummy!” She slapped you on the back. “Owww, that hurt!” You whined. She let out a laugh and soon enough you both erupted in laughter.

So your name was Y/n. Muichiro made a mental note in his head. He did think you were pretty, I mean how could he not? He continued his was to his estate. It was time for afternoon training.

As he was sparring with one of the slayers, he heard your name. “Yeah Y/n is so pretty! She’s like a rose.” He turned towards the person who said it. As soon as he turned, he got struck in his ribs. He let his guard down, he’s never done that. He looked back shocked. You had distracted him. This was new, he’s never once been distracted by anything. So why were you different?

Ever since he saw you, he tried his best to see you more. He couldn’t get you out of his mind. It had been a few days, until he heard your laugh. He knew it was you, who else had a laugh like that? He followed the sound and saw you sitting by yourself as you watched your crow impersonating someone else’s crow. Muichiro walked up behind you. He noticed your crow was acting like his crow. “Is he acting like Ginko?” You jumped. You never heard him walk up. “Oh um I’m not really sure.” You tried laughing it off. “Well your crow seems to be impersonating my crow.” You rubbed the back of your neck. “I’m sorry about that.” You looked at him, “it’s fine, she doesn’t get along with everyone. Mind if I sit beside you?” He pointed at the empty space. “Oh! Go right ahead.” You smiled at him, and for some reason that made his face heat up.

He sat down slowly, careful to not accidentally sit on you. “Soo your Tokito?” You looked at him. “Um yeah. But call me Muichiro.” You nodded at him. He was pretty cute you couldn’t lie. The two of you had talked for what felt like forever, only it had been 20 minutes. “Y/n! It’s time for your training session!” You crow called out. “Oh right! Sorry Toki-Muichiro! I have to go.” You sat up. “It’s okay, I have to get to my training too. Oh, who are you training with right now?” He asked. “Uzui! I’ve only been there for 2 days though. He told me I should be moving up in a day or two!” You gleamed at him. But your crow reminded you again and you left. That’s great, he thought, he was the next hashira you’d see.

It’s been around 2 days, then he heard a knock. He turned from what he was doing and opened it. There you stood. “Hi Muichiro! I didn’t know I’d come to you next!” He blushed, you somehow looked even better than before. “Y/n! Welcome.” He guided you in. You placed your things down and immediately joined everyone else.

————————————————————————

It had been a few days since you joined Muichiro’s training. He noticed how you easily surpassed everyone else. He always had something to compliment you on. Unfortunately, he had to send you to the next Hashira. He didn’t want you to leave, but you had to. He walked you out and handed you a note. You took it and began to walk out. “Goodluck Y/n.” You turned at him and smiled, “Thank you Muichiro!” And then you left.

You opened the note and saw it had read “Y/n, I’d like to meet at ****** at 7pm on Friday. I really like spending time with you and I want to talk to you more.” You blushed immensely. You thought it was really sweet of him to want to meet up.

Friday came and you decided to go to the place. Once you got there, Muichiro was already there. “Hi Muichiro!” You cheered. “Hey.” You walked closer to him and sat down beside him. He had taken you to a field of flowers. It was beautiful. He had already picked some flowers and taking the most beautiful one, he put it in your hair. You whined at him to give you one so he did. You put the flower in his hair so the two of you could match. “Sooo what did you want to talk about?” You questioned him. “Well-, y/n I think you’re really pretty and I think I may be in love with you.” You blushed at this. “WHAAAAA!” You accidentally yelled. “You love ME?” Your eyes went wide. “Yes y/n. I think I do.” He was trying to look away but he couldn’t. “Would you um, be my girlfriend?” You squealed. “Of course I will!” You hugged him and he slightly jumped. “Oh im sorry! I didn’t even ask to hug you.” You were so embarrassed. “No it’s alright.” And he pulled you back in for a hug. Both of you not wanting to let the other go. ————————————————————————

Bonus: Muichiro had went to Shinobu to tell her about how he was feeling. She told him he might be in love with you, and the more the thought about it, the more he realized it. He knew he had to confess to you soon before anyone else did. Shinobu ended up telling Mitsuri but told her to keep it on the low, but soon every Hashira found out.

[denaliwrites]

Don't Turn Your Back

Tenth Doctor x GN!Reader

Part 1: Don't Blink Part 3: Don't Look Away Part 4: Dreams See Us Through

Summary: If you never see a Weeping Angel again as long as you live, it'll be too soon.

Requests: Open!

Tag List: @nyxiethesimp

Warnings: Weeping Angels.

When the Doctor said "Let's find out why this Weeping Angel is stalking and torturing you," you weren't exactly sure how he intended to do that.

You were not expecting him to propose establishing a psychic link between you and the Angel in question.

"Absolutely not," you'd said, adamantly. "Find another way -- I won't have that thing inside my head."

"It's the only way," he'd said, and damn if he wasn't a bloody good liar.

"I hate you," you'd said.

To which he'd smiled and replied, "You know you're dying to know." And damn if you weren't convinced he couldn't read your mind, sometimes.

So now, here you sat, with some odd machine he'd fashioned out of scraps sitting atop your head. "I don't like this," you told him nervously.

"Oh, but you look great," he told you with a smile. Despite his blasé attitude, you remained unconvinced. He was a little too casual, yet for some reason he wouldn't meet your eye.

"What's wrong Doctor?" you finally asked as he adjusted the machine you wore. "Why won't you tell me the other options?"

"Because there aren't any," he said, yet again.

"Doctor, I know when you're lying."

"Because the only other option is to let you die," he snapped, voice broken and movements suddenly jerky as he was overcome with emotion. "And I will not let you die."

"Oh."

You regretted asking. And yet, you persisted.

"So this is safe?"

"No," he replied with a sigh. "But you have a better chance if we do this than if we do nothing. If we do nothing... the Angel will get bored, and..."

"It may not send me back... like the other Angels do."

"Are you ready?"

"No."

"Starting on the count of three."

He counted down, turned the machine on... and then everything went black.

You could tell something was off even before you opened your eyes, but opening them certainly confirmed your suspicions. You found yourself back in your flat, but the world around you was strangely dark and covered in thick mist -- even though you were inside.

Not a fan of that, you decided.

Walking through your flat didn't reveal anything out of the ordinary, besides the darkness and the fog. There were no ghosts, no angels, no Doctor, no... anything.

You were alone.

How were you supposed to tell him? How would he know to pull you out? Those thoughts, among others, ran through your head as you made your way outside to look around the garden. Finding more nothing, you moved on to the street.

You saw the TARDIS on the other side of the road, its light dim and ominous in the oppressive dark of whatever Hell this was.

You wanted to run towards it, and into the safety of the TARDIS, but movement to your left caught your attention.

Oh.

The Angel.

You sucked in a steadying breath and walked towards it.

"Why are you doing this?" you asked as you neared. You hadn't expected your voice to echo. It freaked you out a little. This whole place did. The situation, too.

The Angel didn't answer you.

"Oh. Do I need to turn away?" you asked, genuinely. You blinked and when your eyes opened you could've sworn the Angel's lips were slightly more upturned. "Okay. I'm here to talk. I'm here in good faith. Please don't kill me... I... I'm trusting you."

It was a terrible decision, really, but what choice did you have?

So you turned -- and closed your eyes for good measure.

"Why are you doing this?" you repeated.

A voice not unlike two rocks grinding against each other whispered in your ear, "Revenge." And as quiet as that single word was, it still echoed around you.

"But I've never seen a Weeping Angel before," you whimpered. "How could I have done anything to you worth revenging over?"

"Not you," the voice whispered.

Oh. Well, the only other person that left was the Doctor.

"What did he do?" you asked, even though you didn't actually want to know.

"He killed my sisters."

"I... I'm very sorry," you started, swallowing thickly. "That must've been... terrible. I can't imagine."

"He took something from me," the voice continued, "something I loved. So now I will take from him something he loves."

A nervous laugh bubbled out of your throat. "The Doctor doesn't love me."

"Foolish human," the voice said, and there was just enough threat in those words for you to instinctively open your eyes and turn around.

The Weeping Angel was gone.

Nerves alight and mind about a hundred times more exhausted than it was when you first entered this place, you sighed and wearily turned to the TARDIS. Walking inside revealed that it was just as dark, misty, and creepy as everywhere else.

But you could see yourself sitting in one of the seats by the console, unconscious. The Doctor hovered beside you, his hands clutching yours desperately. He kept whispering to himself, but in this place they echoed right over to you, clear as day --

"Come on, come on, come on."

Over and over, just those two words.

You watched sadly for a moment before you made your way to... well, yourself. You weren't really sure how to wake yourself up, but were willing to try anything and everything that came to mind.

Which was how you found yourself going through a series of ridiculous attempts that included yanking on wires, chanting in Latin, screaming in your face, slapping your face, and dancing the hula.

After everything you tried failed, you dropped to the floor with a whimper and closed your eyes.

You awoke with a jolt, gasping desperately as if you'd been holding your breath for several minutes.

The first thing you saw was the Doctor, still hovering over you. He looked incredibly relieved to see you back, unharmed. You let him take the machine off, and though you felt incredibly heavy suddenly you let him pull you into a hug, too.

"What happened?" he asked as he pulled away. "What did it say?"

"It..." God, you were so tired. Why were you so tired? "It says it wants to kill me because you killed its sisters...?"

You could see him pondering that, eyes searching the air as he tried to recall a time he may've killed some Weeping Angels. All the while, his hands still held yours. It was a small comfort, but a comfort nonetheless.

If he remembered at all, he did a strangely good job of hiding it, though you supposed it helped that your sudden swaying drew his attention away. "Hey, hey," he cooed, pulling you up and into his chest. "Let's get you to bed, eh?"

You shook your head, pushing yourself gently away from him. "I need... to think. Erm. I'm gonna take a shower. And then I'll go to bed..." You nodded tiredly but resolutely and made your way to your bathroom.

The shower you took was long, just shy of blisteringly hot, and not nearly as productive as you'd hoped it would be. Your thoughts kept running in circles, or else running away from you altogether, and chasing them only served to wind your anxiety up like a rubber band about to snap.

And snap it did.

You hadn't even realized you were screaming until the Doctor was pulling you out of the water and gently shushing you. You only sort of quieted, your screams simmering down to sobs as you clung to him. He held you firmly, protectively, whispering such gentle words of comfort and encouragement in your ear even as your cries filled his.

"Oh, it's all right now," he soothed, petting your wet hair. "I won't let it hurt you, eh? I promised I'd keep you safe, didn't I?" He sighed when the only response he got was a sob, and pressed a kiss to the top of your head.

Carefully, and much to your confusion, the Doctor managed to move to a stand with you cradled in his arms. You didn't protest as he carried you to your room (again), nor as he set you down and swaddled you up under the covers.

As you started to come down, you realized you were still naked -- that the Doctor had pulled you out of the shower and held you and carried you all while you were naked, but honestly dealing with that would have to wait until you weren't exhausted.

Once he was, seemingly, satisfied with the cocoon he'd surrounded you in, he leaned forward and pecked your forehead, then moved to leave.

"Doctor, please don't," you begged quietly, still sniffly.

He paused for only a moment before he turned back to face you, before he came to sit on the edge of your bed, before he scooted in next to you and laid beside you.

He didn't even need to speak for you to feel comforted. Even just turning to face him and nuzzling up to his shoulder had you feeling immensely better.

He rested his cheek against the top of your head and silently stared up at the ceiling as you yawned and sank into him. It took a long while for sleep to come for you, but when it finally did, it came hard and fast.

You were haunted by nightmares of moving statues.

[redsrooftopprincess]

Sunlight

MOAR FLUFF. I'm sorry, I just can't help it. I love soft Raph 😭😭😭

Raphael x gn reader

I promise I'll have some spicy stuff soon. 🤞🏻😅

You arrive at the farmhouse to prepare for Casey and April's wedding. The boys pile out of the truck quickly. They've been waiting for this. Once they pass out of the garage, they pause, just to bask in the sunlight for the first time in months. You feel a warm smile blossom on your face. It seems like a weight has been lifted, and it has. They don't have to hide here.

Raphael seems so much lighter, and the way the sun catches his scales is unlike anything you've ever seen. It looks almost like mica, shimmering and flashing as his body moves. He opens his eyes and catches you staring. The way he smiles at you...

Your breath catches in your throat as his amber eyes catch the sunlight. He looks like something ancient. Like some sacred statue you might find in the middle of a forest, covered in moss, adorned with a red sash tied in prayer. Strength and wisdom and primal magic. This is how he is supposed to be. Shining.

You offer him a warm smile in return, very grateful all of that was said inside your head, before you busy yourself with unpacking the car.

When you step out from the garage into the sunlight, he forgets how to breathe. He feels like he's seeing you for the first time. The way the sun makes your skin glow. The way it gathers in your hair. Shines within your eyes. He's never seen you in daylight before and he is awestruck. You are too busy carrying a load of decorations inside house to notice.

He was almost angry at the sun. It got to see you like this all the time.

...

You and Donatello are working on centerpieces, while Leo is going over the itinerary for the millionth time. Raph sits back like a lazy cat and watches everything, one arm slung almost entirely across the back of the couch. An alarm goes off on Donnie's smart watch.

"Guys," he says, and they all fall in line and make their way to the front porch. Slightly confused, you walk out after them into a violent sunset. Bright pink and orange streak across the sky, and the whole world looks like something magical is about to happen.

The boys have settled in various places, Raphael on the front steps, and you walk over to sit beside him. They are all watching the sunset in reverence. You look up at the turtle beside you, and it's your turn to look on in reverence.

Blazing in greens and reds and golds, he looks like a forest fire. A force of destruction that leaves the earth better for it. You think back on how you met, what kind of place you were in, and where you are now. He'd ruined your life, and made it so much better. You take his hand and turn toward the sunset.

When you hand finds his, he looks over at you. You are ethereal. The gold light catches in your hair like a halo. How the hell did he manage this? He knows that nothing will ever come of his feelings for you, but he gets to be the one sitting beside an angel watching the sunset. So, as far as he's concerned, he's the luckiest guy in the world.

....

The morning mist scatters the dawn into a soft blanket of light that swirls around you all as you begin setting up.

You're watching Raphael joke and laugh with Mikey about some show they used to watch as kids, and you are brought near enough to tears that you have to busy yourself with place settings so you won't cry. You've NEVER seen him like this, completely at ease, and he is so damn beautiful.

Moments later, you squeak as you're suddenly pulled backwards by two large hands around your waist. When you hit shell, he wraps his arms around you in a hug. Even if he did feel the same, he would never let you give up the human world for him. He'd sooner never speak to you again. So, you let yourself have this. Just for a moment. You rest your arms atop his and lean back into him, letting this new softness envelope you.

And he is soft, not a single drop of tension. You turn in his arms to look up at him grinning down at you. The mist that has collected on his pebbled skin sparkles in the pale light like diamonds, and his golden eyes hold a hearth fire, warm and comforting.

Soon they would have to return to the real world, but the farmhouse wasn't the real world. He bows slightly and places his forehead against yours. Your eyes fall closed, and the blanket of morning light settles around you as you both indulge in something impossible, if only for a moment.

...

After an incredible week, you're fast asleep as the garbage truck barrels down the highway. Your head is in Raphael's lap, and he strokes your hair gently.

He looks up to see where they are and sighs quietly to himself, preparing for the inevitable tension that always hits like a truck when they leave the countryside. He's surprised when it doesn't hit as hard as he's expecting.

He looks down at you, asleep in his lap, and smiles as a passing streetlight illuminates your face.

Maybe, this time, he's taking a little sunlight home with him.

[bubbles-for-all-of-us]

Azriel being jeolous of His mate’s Fictional boyfriend 😅❤️

Bookish crush

You both are readers. I think that would be something you two would probably bond over. Something that might bring you closer. Get you talking. So the library or a hidden-away corner would be a place you two lingered a lot.

And most evenings it was you pressed against Azriel's chest. Each holding a book. It's such quality time. And knowing that you feel so comfortable in someone's presence that you don't even have to talk is priceless. Although, one of Azriel's hands would be moving through your hair, fingers twisting the ends of it.

Side note, why do I think that if you're super tired Azriel would get his shadows to hold the book for you? Like you could be tucked in a blanket, all snuggled up, maybe even against Azriel's side and the dark mist is just flipping through pages for you.

And Azriel knows about the smutty books that Nesta was giving out to every breathing female around her because Cassian is complaining on the daily how some imaginary dick is making his mate more blushy than he had ever seen. Just Azriel had never seen any of the similar covers among your book piles. Until the "infection" spreads.

It started rather innocently - Azriel walked in on you blushing. Cheeks so bright with crimson they almost looked on fire. He asked you if something happened but you kind of brushed him off, saying something about a cute date and how you suddenly had the urge to kick your feet up and down. Azriel had raised a brow at that but chose not to comment. But his observations stayed sharp.

Azriel is so aware of how your eyes grow big at times, how you just throw your head back, how you silently shout at the pages. He had heard you from another room once. A light screech that was followed by a handful of words that didn't make sense.

"That's it. What's this book about?", Azriel had broken the silence after watching you nearly combusting internally for about twenty minutes. His book now long forgotten. You didn't answer at first and that made Azriel frown slightly, "Y/N!", your eyes shot up as you muttered a quick, "Huh?"

"What are you reading about?", Azriel repeated his question, your eyes fell onto the pages, "Oh, just a love story", you breathed out almost a sigh, "enemies to lovers actually, and he's a grump". Azriel raised an eyebrow at you, "So why are you doing all of this?". Now it was your turn to crock your head to the side, "What this?"

Azriel said nothing at first. Just watching you. He wondered if he should mention it at all. Maybe you were just a reader who had a lot of expressions. "Well, why are you throwing your head up? Getting all giddy? Looking at that book like...", and Azriel stops because your cheeks are as crimson now as before. He moves forward, "Let me see,", "NO!", you nearly scream, making him stop. "Why not, come on...", Azriel tries to reach for the hardcover again but you press it closer to your chest.

"Just there's a male and he's... like very adorable", you blur out, "He's just uhh...", Azriel's big eyes watched you, "He's uhh... uhh? What does uhh mean?". You looked at Azriel for a moment, debating what to tell him. It was one thing talking about silly book crushes to the girls, completely different admitting it to someone you fancied in real life.

"Well... There's a male here", you tapped the cover of the book you were reading, "Tall, handsome, dark feathers. A true romantic. You could say a man written by a woman", your words sounded so true and honest that Azriel couldn't help but tighten his jaw. "And you're blushing because?", he asked casually. "Well... I fancy him like well no... not him... well the idea of that", you said messily and now Azriel was frowning. Did you fancy some bloke in a book? What did he have that Azriel didn't?

"Right... let me read it", Azriel reached for the book again. "No, Az, it is silly", you shook your head. "Well, no it is not. Because you fancy him and I've here been trying to smitten you for months but it doesn't seem to work so give me the book", Azriel blurred out and it felt as if he didn't mean to say most of it allowed. "You don't need to compete with him and for the record, I do like you", you mumbled, dropping the book to the side as you inched closer to the spymaster. His hands pulled you closer, "Still don't like that there is any version of a male that gets you all blushy", Azriel grumbled and you let out a chuckle, "Should I make you a list of things I like about him?", you teased and Azriel rolled his eyes. Yet his shadows were already tucking the book deep within their black swirl for an in-depth investigation later on.

[witchthewriter]

𝐁𝐞𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐢𝐧 𝐚 𝐩𝐨𝐥𝐲 𝐫𝐞𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐩 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐔𝐛𝐛𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐅𝐢𝐧𝐚𝐧 𝐰𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐥𝐮𝐝𝐞

⤷ gender neutral and any size reader. Requests are open, thank you for reading!

a/n: a long awaited cross over that I promised months ago.. please do not hate me! Also, Danes = vikings, but the word viking is also a verb. So, you could say 'Hey Ma I'm off to go viking!'.

Saxons = those from England

Celts are an umbrella term for Native Britons who were here before the Saxons.

ᴹᵃˢᵗᵉʳˡᶤˢᵗ | ᴹᵃˢᵗᵉʳˡᶤˢᵗ ᴵᴵ

It didn't make sense.

Ubbe's shoes walked the length of the boat and back again. Creaking wherever he put his feet, the wind was howling. Even during the day. With the sun high in the sky; not that he could see it.

None of the men or women could see more than five feet in front of them. Once he, along with two other ships left Kattegat, the mist had surrounded them.

Ubbe had the mind to turn back, but he couldn't see the shorline of Kattegat. Only the thick whirls of fog surrounding the boats.

What would have been a long journey, was shortened to mere seconds. And Ubbe was in a place he did not wish to be.

It was a place where his father had died. Where a many great Viking men had died.

But something was different. The time, Ubbe knew it; years had passed somehow. Many, many years. And when he took 4 men into a tavern to investigate, he asked and was told.

Ubbe and his men had gone through 100 years on the water.

・Life had gotten better since Uhtred and his men frequented your village - hell, everywhere had gotten better; not only were the raids less and less.

・But safety and hope were two words that Uhtred of Bebbanberg gave the people

・Well, Uhtred along with his three men - Finan, Sihtric & Osferth.

・You always had a crush on Finan. His Irish charm and humour always brightened your day.

・But he had never ventured for more than conversation and company

・You thought he must have an eye on someone else, but news never reached your ears about anyone else.

・And then something happened.

・Two ships full of Danes had washed on Englands' shores. It was not like any other raid. The Danes spoke differently, their weapons seemed old and the way they dressed was so ... incredibly different to the Danes you all knew

・Where did they come from? Why hadn't any other Dane claimed to know them? And why couldn't they point to where they were from on a map?

・These thoughts plagude you for days. You did your chores and you thought about it, you cooked and cleaned - and thought about it.

・However, curiosity won out and you snuck into the woods to get a better look at the semi-prisoners.

・One man caught your eye instantly.

・And he ...

・He was ... beautiful.

・Outlandishly so, you hadn't seen such a man and with so many unique tattoos...

・His hair was long and braided, parts shaved on the sides and you were taken aback.

・A blush creeping so bright you swore he would be able to see you in the dark - like a beacon of sorts

・But a body had bumped against your own, a hand over your mouth. You bit down - hard and Osferth hissed

"Ow!" He said, trying to keep his voice low as he flung his hand about in pain.

"Well don't do that!" You whispered incredulously.

"What are you staring at?" whispered Osferth, crouching down and following your line of sight.

"No-nothing, nothing, stop it-"

"Ooh got your eye on somethin' then?" he mocked.

・You rolled your eyes and pushed him. He caught your arm and hoisted himself up, catching you against him in the process.

・This back and forth behaviour was normal between you and Osferth. As soon as you met, it had started.

・He knows about your feelings for Finan, and has helped you to gain his attention time and time again

・The only failure in this was the fact that he didn't want to put you at risk. Finan couldn't bear to have you as some sort of target.

・But god did that change when Ubbe started talking to you.

・You decided to help around with the new Danes

・Your skills were highly renound and useful no matter who you were with

・Ubbe did everything he could to get your attention and soon Finan became a shell of his witty self.

・Grouchy and sensitive, Finan couldn't stop watching the two of you interract.

"I mean wha' does she see in 'im??"

"- Finan, please-" Uhtred interjected, trying to calm him down. He did not calm down.

"Just tell her how you feel-" Sihtric exclaimed, throwing his hands up in the air.

"I - I cannot."

"You cannot what?" You said coming up behind him, the trees and darkness hiding you easily.

・From that day on you and Finan were together, but the subject of Ubbe hung loosely in the air.

・However, your relationship was changed because of Ubbe. Who shocked both you and Finan.

"It is true, I want you. But I want both of you. The funny one as well."

・Finan gulped.

・Your relationship is very loving. It truly is.

・There's a lot of PDA

・But even more affection when people aren't around

・Like casually sitting on each other's laps

・Forehead Touches

・The union between all three of you created something. It was peace.

・Peace settled over the group, a sense of ease becoming easier and easier to grasp.

𝑹𝒆𝒍𝒂𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏𝒔𝒉𝒊𝒑 𝑻𝒓𝒐𝒑𝒆𝒔

Shut Up” (You) x “Make Me” (Ubbe) x “Just Kiss Already.” (Finan)

Found Family

Intuitive & Attentive (Finan) x Restless & Flirty (Ubbe) x Witty & Intuitive (You)

𝑹𝒐𝒎𝒂𝒏𝒕𝒊𝒄 𝑷𝒍𝒐𝒕 𝑻𝒓𝒐𝒑𝒆

Intertwined Destinies

Love Transcending Boundaries

Legacy and Legend

𝑻𝒉𝒆𝒎𝒆 𝑺𝒐𝒏𝒈

Scotland by the BBC Scottish Symphony Orchestra

Golden Years by David Bowie

To Bring You My Love by PJ Harvey

[voiceofdragons]

Danny With the Street

150,000 people die every day on average. On average, 385,000 people are born on that same day. Thats  535,000 souls made and unmade every day. Some peacefully at the end of a life lived, either fulfilled or not, and some tragically and early. Some even die the same day they are born. 535,000 people. 385,000 births, 150,000 deaths. These, however, are simply the averages. No one living can get the exact numbers, and they’d change daily regardless, so that data would be of no real use.

That’s only humans though. Those numbers are dwarfed in comparison to the averages for animal life, and the less said about plant life the better for our collective migraine. Still, that is no small amount of people. For the number of deaths, you’d get a population somewhere between the size of Kiribati and Guam. For the births it would be between Iceland and Guadalupe. The combined number puts you at Malta.

You have probably never even seen that many people in person before. And that is not even a percentage of a percentage of the worlds population. 535,000 is not barely a drop in the bucket. This number is important to Danny, for the simple fact that you can figure out a lot of interesting things regarding ghosts with it. He’d pestered a few of the Observants, when they weren’t trying to literally get him out of their picture, with a bunch of questions a curious 14 year old would want answers to. 

Some were not answered, in typical Observant fashion, but they’d given him an interesting answer to the question “how many people even become ghosts”. 

“The rate changes day to day, but we’ve figured out that its normally 1 ghost out of however many are born and day in a day added together.” This particular Observant then proceed to ramble on about how smart they were for figuring it out, how much better off the universe was for having them watching over things, blah blah blah.

Even if the rate changes, it doesn’t change drastically enough to ruin the precise and exacting science of guestimating things. If its one in 535,000, but only 150,000 die a day, then that means its somewhere between 3 and 4 days to get a new ghost. Their reasons for lingering were there own, and were often normal. And then there were the fruitloops that he dealt with so often that it was kind of starting to get old. The ghosts were getting easier to handle most days though, especially after he helped lock up Pariah Dark again. Who knew making their dimension safer would make them hate him a bit less?

And these days his biggest headache was that government agency that had temporarily bought Fentonworks to try and nuke the ghost zone. They’d failed, but still tried their hardest to make his life miserable.

Case in point; they were in the living room with his parents. Talking about Phantom. Specifically about some ‘concerning’ footage of him they’d been able to record of the ‘ectolasmic scum’. He was hiding invisible on the stairs, his mom and dad on the couch with two familiar white suited dingbats standing across from them. They had placed a tablet on the coffee table, a video taking its sweet time loading.

“As interesting as i’m sure this video is, would either of you gentlemen like to see some of our latest projects?” his mom said, clearly growing bored as the video took yet another minute to load. Thank goodness ghosts effected technology the way they did, clearly whatever film they’d taken was hard on their systems. Mom picked back up with “we’ve been experimenting with some new ‘ecto-electrolysis metal plating’ its a lengthy process, but the results are-” suddenly the video started to play, cutting her off. Danny leaned forward to get a better look, and froze. It wasn’t Phantom.

It was normal, human looking Danny Fenton. Walking down the street. The same one that Johnny and Kitty had gone racing down last thursday. Suddenly a familiar looking mist pooled out of his lips, and the screen started to glitch and lag a bit, but he remembered what happened next. He’d look around the empty street, not see anyone, and then-.

“Going Ghost!” his familiar catchphrase came from the tablet, and the glitching stopped. And Danny Fenton was no longer on the screen. All the glitching had coalesced on a single point on the screen, exactly where he’d been standing, making it clear there was a ghost in the footage. Then another blob of corrupted screen appeared streaking down the street, and the first one sped off after it.

The video stopped, and his parents were frozen. His dad reached for the tablet, and restarted the video. The catchphrase, the mist, the glitching, and his disappearance. His parents replayed the video about five more times before his mom shakily flipped the tablet face down. His dad hugged gripped her shoulders as she brought her still shaking hands up to her face.

“We understand that this must be difficult for you both, but it is imperative for state security and research that you assist us with the capture and containment of the entity.” the agent on the left spoke softly, clearly trying to be gentle, but it brought no comfort to anyone in the room, least of all Danny.

“This is not simply difficult!” his dad said forcefully. “This is our son, and you’ve just told us-” his dad stood up and started pacing, clearly distraught. After a minute of pacing he slumped back onto the couch. Mom sniffed and rubbed her face down before bringing her hands to her lap. Her next words were enough to make Danny freeze in shock and terror.

“He’s upstairs in his room.” dad turned to look at her, shocked was an understated descriptor for his face. Danny stood up still invisible and made his way up to his room. He had to leave before anyone came for him. He just barely heard her continue. “I’m going to lock down the house so he can’t get out, but just to be safe you should go outside in case he somehow gets out.” he didn’t hear the agents respond, or his dad.

Once in his room he grabbed one of his notebooks and wrote a quick message to leave for Jazz. ‘GIW told mom and dad i’m phantom, had to leave the house, i’ll be with a friend, i’ll call.’ he then slipped it under her door and then phased through the ceiling just in time to see the familiar ghost shields surround the building. The agents were by their van, arms crossed, and Danny flew off in the direction of tuckers house, tears building up in the corner of his eyes.

Landing at the corner of Tucker’s street he rubbed his eyes to clear them before walking toward his best friends house. The wave of relief he felt when the house came in view was quickly squashed by the sight of a familiar white van, and two white suits talking to Tucker's parents on the porch. Staying invisible he flew off again for Sam’s house. When he didn’t see a white van outside he was relieved.

He was less relieved to see none of the lights were on and their car was gone, meaning the whole family was out at the moment. Still floating he decided to fly to the Nasty Burger, deciding to wait there until one of his friends or for Jazz to go there looking for him.It was when he was flying past Caspar High when he saw something that gave him reason to pause.

There was a new street there that hadn’t been there yesterday. The buildings were brightly colored, and there were people mulling about wearing clothes he’d never seen anyone in Amity Park wearing. Getting closer, he expected the usual white mist that meant a ghost was nearby, knowing that in a town like Amity, anything weird was probably ghost related. There was nothing. He landed, still invisible and walked quietly down the street, deciding to see where things went.

The multi-colored buildings turned out to be a hardware store, a military surplus hut, and a bunch of other places you wouldn’t expect to be in pastel pinks and purples. Reaching the middle of the street was a building dubbed ‘Peeping Tom’s Perpetual Cabaret’ all done up in bright flashing lights, music leaking out onto the street from inside.

In short, this place seemed awesome, and as soon as he was able to reach Sam or Tucker he was bringing them here. He passed more fun looking stores, and some more adult stores that he knew he was too young for on his way to the end of the street closest to the Nasty Burger, and he stopped when he saw the street sign.

 ‘Danny St’.

“Well that’s weird” he said, still invisible.

A cloud of steam popped up from a nearby sewer grate with a sound almost like a gasp, and strangely enough it turned into a series of exclamation points and question marks.

“Also weird,” a fluttering sound behind him made him turn to see a pile of leaves spell out ‘says the invisible boy’. Danny took a step away from the pile, waiting for the mist that meant a ghost was nearby. It didn’t come. Whatever this was, it wasn’t a ghost.

Deciding that questions would be an alright distraction from the nightmare his day became he asked, “Who are you?” and another noise from behind him, this time a metallic squeaking. When he looked it was the street sign rotating around. He laughed, and turned back to the pile of leaves, only it was the sign on the window that responded this time, changing its arrangement to ask ‘what’s so funny feele?’.

“My name is also Danny.” deciding to trust the talking street, he stopped being invisible. The steam from before came again, just exclamation points this time though. A rustling sound had him turning right where a banner unfurled to declare ‘Neat Trick Twinsie!’ making Danny laugh. Deciding to ask a few more questions, he walked over to a conveniently placed bench across from a pawn shop.

“You’re not a ghost are you?” he asked, and the pawn shop window grew a question mark. “Oh, right, you’re new in town, considering I didn't see you here yesterday.” waving his hand around Danny continued. “Welcome to Amity Park, the most haunted city in America. My first thought when weird things happen here is it’s a ghost doing something, and I've seen a lot of weird.” The window proclaimed ‘ooooooh’ before another sound had him turning his head left. This time a cafe menu board said ‘Not a ghost, but are you?’

Danny clapped his hands as he said, “Half points Danny, thank you for playing!” the question mark came back so he elaborated. “I’m only half ghost, all the abilities of ghostliness, still alive and kicking.” he then smirked as some word play popped into his head. “Kicking all the other ghosts butts for messing with the town.” he then remembered his current problem, and slumped backwards, his view of his new… friend? Acquaintance? Friend, suddenly flipped.

“Or I did at least.” he sighed. “No idea what i’m supposed to do now, got some fruitloop government ghostbusters after me, and they just told my parents! Who are also ghost hunters!” from his upside down view he saw more letters rearrange across the street, but he didn’t want to parse out what Danny had said. “I was going to go wait for some friends before I spotted you, try to figure things out.” he sat up and turned around, not wanting to ignore a message. ‘Thats rough buddy.’ his face split into a grin. “Its just my luck that the same day all these bad things happen, I also meet a new friend with impeccable taste in memes!” he stood up and stretched, feeling a bit less panicked. “I’m going to go meet with them, but can i bring them back to see you? They’d love your… everything!” the banner from before flipped over ‘that would be dolly Danny! Bona to Vada!’ this was starting to remind him of when he first met Wulf, and learned of the wonders of Esperanto. A fun new dialect was just the distraction he needed.

Waving at the street, a few of the people walking around waved back, even though he hadn’t spoken to any of them. A flag flapped aggressively in a nonexistent wind, and his smile stayed on his face as he turned invisible again and flying off to the Nasty Burger.

It had only been thirty minutes since his parents found out, but his anxiety made it all feel like seconds ago as he sat there waiting. Five o'clock approached and a familiar face walked in, though not one of the ones he’d been waiting for. Valerie was starting her closing shift in ten minutes, and Danny was sitting at a booth waiting for Tucker, Sam, or Jazz. she put her bag behind the counter and slit to the opposite side of his booth.

“Why so antsy ghost face?” Valerie asked with her arms crossed. Their situationship had been weird for a while since she’d found out he was half ghost, but things had been improving lately since her dad got a new job. Guess most of her aggression had been stress induced.

“So… My parents found out i’m a ghost. The Guys in White told them, I had to leave the house, and when I went to Tucker’s house they were there too, Sam wasn’t home, and now I’m waiting for either one of them, or Jazz to come find me so i can figure out the shipwreck my life has become!” the floodgates had opened and he’d word vomited everything to his frenemy, and then promptly face planted into the table.

She visibly blue screened for about ten seconds before she reached over and patted his head. “That’s rough buddy.” he glared up at her for all of two second before snorting a despondent laugh. She joined in and after a few seconds of laughing together he leaned back, smiling a bit more easily since the anxiety had claimed him five seconds into waiting.

“You are not the first person who’s said those exact words to me tonight! I should start collecting nickels, I probably won’t get more than two but it's weird that it’s happened twice!” she didn’t laugh at that, tilting her head in an unspoken question. “You are not going to believe this, but on my way here I found a new street by Caspar High. Just there, new buildings, decorations, the whole shebang!” he flared his fingers out to emphasize the point. “I was invisible, but when I saw the street was called ‘Danny St’ I had to say something. And it started talking back, kinda.” 

“That’s a load of bull-” she started before he waved his hands to cut her off.

“Val, after half the stuff we’ve dealt with since my parents opened the portal, is this really too much for you to believe?” she raised a finger and took a breath before closing her mouth and lowering her hand. They’d dealt with a lot of wacky nonsense.

“Valid, but I won’t believe it until I see it. What kind of ghost looks like a whole street?” she asked, but he shook his head.

“That’s the thing! They weren’t a ghost, I would know! When I asked, they didn’t know what I meant. Had to explain kinda about Amity Park being the most haunted town in America.” This time he crossed his arms, leaning back to look out the window, hoping for a familiar red hat, or someone dressed in all black and purple.

Valerie stood up suddenly, and gave him a hug. “I’m sorry this happened to you Danny. My shift is starting, so I’ll make you some fries while you wait. If you’re here till closing, mind showing me this magic street you found?" It was nice having her be this friendly with him again, and he grinned and gave a thumbs up.

“Sure thing!” he said, before the doors burst open and four men in white suits rushed in, guns aimed at him. He shoved Valerie out of the way and went intangible through the wall to the outside. He then went invisible and rushed as fast as he could over the buildings.

He was passing the new, and brightly colored Danny St when he felt a sharp pain in his side, and smelled burning flesh and ectoplasm. Losing control of his abilities amidst the pain, he crashed into the side of a building before flopping onto the street. Looking up he heard loud music and saw the word ‘Tom’s’ visible on the part of the sign he could see. A crowd started to form, but he was too dazed to understand what most of them were saying. A pretty face popped out of the crowd and bent down to check on him. She was tall, dark skinned, in a glittery outfit with big hair.

“Kid, are you ok? How did you fall?” she was checking him over for any open wounds, but he was to dazed to do much. He heard tires squealing in the distance, and knew that the people chasing him were going to be here soon. He didn’t want anyone hurting his new friend, the talking street, or the people that were just now worrying for his wellbeing.

“I need to go, the Guys in White are after me!” he tried to stand but the woman placed her forearm across his chest to keep him from doing more than sitting up. She turned her head, listening to the squealing as well, before she focused back on him.

“Who are the ‘Guys in White’?” she asked, very seriously.

Danny tried to phase through her arm to stand but the pain in his side made it hard to focus, so he gritted his teeth and kept trying as he responded. “Government sponsored ghostbusting fruitloops, now please let me go they don’t care about collateral damage!”

The woman sighed and closed her eyes for half a second before she turned to look at a few people in the crowd. “You heard the kid, we got government on our tale! Danny, we need to leave.”

“That’s what I’m trying to do lady!” Danny said, while at the same time one of the store signs changed from advertising fatigue leotards, to saying ‘Time to scarper!’

“Was talking to Danny, kid.” she said distractedly.

“That’s my name, don’t wear it out.” he retorted, his head starting to hurt and the burn on his side starting to throb dully.

She laughed, a short, loud burst of amusement before she told him pointedly, “Oh you’ll fit right in kiddo!” and that’s the last he heard before a wave of vertigo took over his senses, the buildings and sky around him twisting and folding impossibly, and he leaned over to dry heave and then pass out.

“Jack, we need to hurry before those agents find him!” Madeline Fenton said from the passenger seat as they approached Caspar High. As soon as they realized that Danny had left the house they’d begun their search, especially vigorous due to the agents also on the prowl. They’d seen some agents leaving Nasty Burger and firing wildly into the air, and they’d seen one of the shots land on something invisible.

And then they’d seen their son materialize and plummet thirty feet to land a few streets over near his high school. Jack was driving them there, and that alone was enough to get the agents to pause on their way to their vans. Small blessings. When they neared the high school though they saw something odd. 

“Honey, am I crazy or was that street not there last week?” Jack said as they approached.

“I don’t think that matters right now dear.” she rescinded, though it was bugging her as well. She knew they tended to get a bit focused on their work, but that work often took them out on the town. She would have seen something of a new street before now, especially with such charming looking stores.

“Theres people milling about, maybe one of them saw him!” Jack pointed out, her wonderful optimist.

“Lets hope! We need to get him back to the lab to check him for injuries, after that we need to game plan keeping him safe.” she looked down at her lap, her jumpsuit a comforting familiarity. “He’s Phantom. He’s been Phantom this whole time! Oh he must have been so frightened.” Jack parked the GAV and reached over to squeeze her shoulder, a reassuring smile on his face.

“Our kid is a tough one, and just as brave as his mother. Lets get him safe and we’ll figure it all out.” he unbuckled himself, then reached over to undo hers for her. They both stepped outside and as they turned to look down this new street they saw something that made them take a breath of equal parts relief and terror. They saw Danny lying prone with a crowd of people clearly trying to help him. He would be fine.

And then, just before they could step foot on the pavement of the street, everything sort of shifted and folded, the other streets stretching to fill in the space being left behind as the street they were now desperately reaching for vanished. The last thing they saw was their sun jerk to the side, several people trying to help him, and then both he, and the mysterious new street vanished.

[themusingsofacurlyhairednerd]

Datura Pt 14

Author's Note: If your read ACOSF and got to that part where Cassian is mind controlled and thought, hmm how could this hurt me more, look no further. Had to make it angsty before we get fluffy, right?

Warnings: Allusions to Assault, Character Death, Canon Typical Violence/Blood and Gore. A lot of angst; like a lot.

Masterlist/ Previous Chapter

There's a callback to Chapter 1 in here, but since it's been so long since I wrote it, here's the chapter again, just for a refresher ;)

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Revenge had kept you warm all those nights in the dungeon, had kept your chin up during every humiliating thing that red headed bitch had put you through. You’d spent hours and hours dreaming up all the ways you would make her pay for turning your life upside down, for tearing the Courts apart, for laying a hand on your mate. In your dreams it was a swift, clean death that wiped away any chance of survival. But standing in the dark tunnels of the Mountain’s lowest levels, the blood of her men dripping from your claws, this is the last thing you want.

This is not swift justice, this is not satisfying revenge, it’s a bloodbath. Males reach for their swords and you tear them apart with your hands, claws cleaving through armor and flesh with little resistance, the splatter of it chilling against your changed skin. Every sense is heightened, every smell and sight changed and distorted, the splatter of blood stings like pin pricks, and yet the beast that has lived caged within your chest all these years delights in it. Your head screams at you to stop, yet your body moves as if it enjoys the hunt.

Hybern said all of them, and your collared body responds accordingly, leaving nothing left of the sentries that patrol the lower levels of the Mountain. There are beasts and monsters here too, hiding in the dark corners, huddling around fires to stay warm as autumn creeps in, all dispatched with a ruthless efficiency that makes your stomach churn, and yet you still can’t force yourself to stop.

The darkness of this place that had once felt so soul crushing and disorienting now makes the muscles in your shoulders relax. The beast within you chuckles as it slips into the dark shadows as if they’re a caress of a lover.

A sentry walks your direction, unawares. He’s dead before his next breath.

With no physical control of your body, you try desperately to call for your mate, to find whatever shred of a bond is left, if there even is one, but you feel it go nowhere. Before, it was like dropping a bit of water into a pond, the echo of your call disturbing the ether of the physic plane until something out there felt the ripple. But there is no ripple here. It is as if your calls bounce off a wall of steel. If there is a bond left, it is as much a prisoner to Hybern’s will as you are, no matter how much you mentally bash yourself against it.

Your body moves without your consent, deeper and deeper into the Mountain. Your hands move on their own volition, yanking previously locked doors off the hinges to allow you to tear apart whatever prisoner, guard, or beast lays within. Some of them are still sleeping when you come, completely unaware they’re being hunted until it’s too late. Some try to fight. None get far. These newly awakened powers leave little room for fighting, all you have to do is direct some of that ether between your fingers in their direction and they turn to a bloody mist. You are a far greater monster than anything in this Mountain has ever been, and there’s no chance that anyone will be warned you’re there until it’s too late.

Time is a concept that exists outside of you, however long it takes to clear the lower levels, the winding, endless tunnels filled with bodies, feels like both a blink and an eternity. It had been sunrise when you’d entered, it very well could have been evening already and you’d have no idea. All this body knows is the hunt, and it moves tirelessly through floors you’ve never seen, with soldiers and war bands and monsters you’d never known existed, until the halls start to look familiar. The prison first, your old cell still damaged. The training room, with its dust stained weapons and crumbling pillars. Every floor up is a new terror, a possibility to come across a face you know. 

“Please,” you beg whatever entity will dare listen to you. “Please, let him be out. Let him be anywhere but here.” Everything you touch dies, if anything happens to Rhys…

Blood drips off your aching skin. Moving like this makes your muscles feel like they could pull away from your bones, this form too much for your mortal body to keep contained. It should be tiring, yet, your legs still move you forward as if you haven’t been tearing through an army for hours, unhindered by your discomfort.

“Please stop,” you whisper when you find sleeping quarters for Amarantha’s servants, fangs bared and claws swinging. “Please!”

A blue skinned fae with crooked wings drops to their knees before you, tears streaming down their cheeks. “Have mercy! Please!”

Stop this. Stop this. Stop this!

The collar hums at your hesitation, metal burning, it’s dark power pulsing through your veins like living flames. A growl of pain slips out of you as you extend your hand and mist the begging fae.

Others sprint from the room, screaming. None of them make it farther than the outside hallway.

You can feel blood and gore beneath your feet as you walk past, looking for anyone else on this floor. There’s a couple hiding in a closet, hands pressed over their mouths to keep quiet. A soldier drunk and stumbling with his pants around his ankles. A courtier slipping from a secret lover’s room. All gone.

You’d cry if you could, but nothing slows you, your body moving ever forward until it comes to a hall you recognize, your own claw marks dragged across the walls.

The more you try and fight it, the more the collar burns.

Most of the rooms around your old cell are empty, your own included. In all your revenge plans you’d always pictured yourself destroying it before leaving, but the collar doesn’t care what you want. It shuts the door and leaves the bed and the book written about you for the dust to once again claim as it begins its ascent to the Throne Room.

There are plenty of obstacles getting there, their faces all a blur of sudden terror and agony. No amount of bathing will ever cleanse the feeling of all this gore from your skin, from your soul.

The Throne Room doors finally come into view, the noise you’ve been making in the lower levels attracting the attention of the guards, who stand at the closed doors with their spears drawn. They’d been so imposing, that day the Attor had dragged you into Amarantha’s chambers, but now, they’re as dangerous as flies. You turn them to mist with the same blast of power that shatters the doors, the ancient rock around you screaming in protest. This draws some attention from the dancing crowd, but it’s not until you’ve misted a large chunk of them that the music finally stops playing.

No. No. No.

The crowd parts with a scream, pressing against the walls, scrambling for the exits as you step into that all too familiar room, dripping blood behind you.

“What is the meaning of-” Amarantha’s shrill voice echoes off the chamber walls, rattling the decaying bodies still pinned to the ruined stones of this once sacred hall. There had always been a strange energy to the Mountain, the magic that kept it alive, old and strange, always hidden beneath the surface, but with your new found powers, you feel the echo of it beneath your feet. This place is twisted, the once holy magic from the Cauldron itself rotten and decaying, you crinkle your nose at the smell of it.

The Queen still sits on her throne, the sheer fabric of her blood red dress clinging to her meager curves, as she takes you in. It takes her a minute to understand what she’s seeing, to process the magnitude of what you were and what you now are. Her gaze flicks to her side… where she keeps your mate chained to her throne.

The screaming of the crowd, the pounding of your heart, it’s all a dull, distant echo in your ears. Rhys is wearing a collar, his dark hair messy, knotted atop his head, violet eyes glassy, red streaked; he’s not wearing a shirt, or pants, stripped down to his boxers, his tattooed chest bruised and littered with claw marks. 

Oh gods.

What had she done to him?

Mentally, you bash against the wall between the two of you, screaming for him, begging anybody who will listen to let you out, to let you save him.

If he can hear you, he gives no acknowledgment. Even if he could break through that wall between you, there’s no way he could do it in this state. It takes him a long time to process what he sees when his gaze finally drags to you, as if it’s an effort to move his head. His glassy eyes blinking too many times like he’s trying to clear the haze from them to ensure that what he’s seeing is real. He’s as much himself as you are, both of you locked behind a wall of someone else’s making. You’re sure your heart is breaking, if it works at all it’s a ragged, bleeding thing that sits uselessly in your chest.

Amarantha stands and Rhys sways on his knees, trying to get out of her way. You can’t tear your eyes away from the way he flinches away from her hand, the way he dips his chin to his chest. 

“What is this?” She snarls. “Guards!”

If there are soldiers coming for you, or just the crowd scattering to let them pass, it doesn’t matter. You raise a hand and mist all of them, the rock above your head shuddering as your power obliterates everything from flesh to rock. 

Amarantha’s red painted lips part in shock, a small gasp of surprise slipping out of her.

There are a dozen different things you want to say to her, a thousand different things you mean to make her pay for, but you can’t open your mouth to say anything. There are no words able to pass beyond the burning thrum of the collar fused to your throat.

“This is a new look for you, Little Mouse,” she croons as a ring of fire emerges to wreathe her hands. “Who’d you have to fuck to make that happen? Certainly not Rhysand.”

She’ll pay for every cut, every bruise, every damn hair out of place on his head. The carnage behind you, around you, the blood that drips from your body, it’ll stain your very soul for the rest of your life if you manage to escape this, you know that for certain, but her death? You and the monster that lives inside, will relish every last one of her agonizing breaths. You’ll make her beg for mercy, as you had begged on your knees before her in this room, and you’ll take your time doing it.

Amarantha assesses you with the surety of a seasoned warlord, every step closer intentional, getting in range to take a shot at you. You wait, letting her get close enough, and just when she’s sure of her place on this new battlefield, you lunge for her with a speed that shouldn’t be possible, even for a fae. She barely has time to blink before you slash your claws across her face. You go right for her eye, aiming to maim, to make it hurt. She screams as your claws tear through flesh and bone, body spinning to get away from you and your free hand comes up to grab her by the hair and hurl her back towards the dias. She stumbles, barely managing to catch herself on the steps leading to her throne.

Rhys scatters as far back as the chain will allow him to avoid her, but his gaze remains fully fixed on you. A familiar brush of night chilled power brushes over your mind, asking for entry and you try your best to throw a door open, to let him in, but that wall remains between the two of you. You can feel him there, on the other side, trying to reach you, but the wall won’t come down.

There’s no time to try another way to reach him either, not when Amarantha starts throwing fire balls at your head. “You stupid, little bitch!” She screams. “I take you in, I offer to train you, to befriend you and you thank me like this?”

The eye on her ring swivels to look at the damage you’ve made in its master’s face in a move that looks strangely… impressed.

You dodge the first couple of throws she makes, letting them hit old cushions and tables. The next throw, you reach out a hand and catch the ball of flame. The fire would have blistered your skin, should make you scream in agony, but in this form, like this? You draw that power inside you as easy as you draw a breath, the crackle of flames like a drug in your veins. It’s intoxicating. When she throws more, her anger becoming more and more tangible and her shots more wild then the last, you take those in too, savoring it until it bubbles up in the pit of your stomach and you have no other choice but to hurl it back at her in a blast she just barely manages to shield herself from.

Distracted with keeping the shield up, you rush her again, drawing in the power she expels from her shield with ease so that there is nothing stopping you from getting a hand around her throat, lifting her up into the air and slamming her down against the marble floors so hard they crack beneath her. Amarantha screams around the hand clamped down around her windpipe as you pick her up and slam her down two more times.

She is still a formidable opponent, she manages to summon an ice pick and jam it into your wrist to free herself as you reel away with a howl of pain. 

Rhys is still trying to reach you, throwing all his mental energy into breaking through, even as you watch his body slump a little more and more next to Amarantha’s throne. You want to scream for him, tell him to stop before he hurts himself anymore, but the words get lost as the collar’s power burns through you in retaliation for not immediately killing Amarantha. The pain of her ice pick in your wrist is nothing to the heat that emanates from the collar, the pain the only thing in all this time to make your legs shake. The pain doesn’t dissipate until you land a punch in Amarantha’s face, her nose breaking under your knuckles. The collar demands blood and it will have it.

No one in the crowd moves to help her, those that remain stay pressed against the walls, watching in horror as the two of you fight it out. There’s a strange sort of glee in the air, as the oppressed relish in their oppressor’s certain demise. If there are any guards left, they don’t come to save her. 

You swing for her head again, but she dodges at the last second, your fist cracking the marble beneath you a second time. 

Spitting blood, she manages to get off the floor, fists raised to protect her ruined face. 

You snarl at her, one of the few sounds the collar will allow, and she throws as much ice and snow at you as she can, mingling it with bits of fire. She lets her claws sharpen at her fingertips, trying to make herself into a beast as formidable as you, but it won’t save her. Her blows do little and you can take satisfaction in the fact that she can no longer hurt you in this form, at least. You absorb what you can and let the rest bounce off you as you stalk closer, pushing her further back until she stumbles on the steps leading to her throne. Fitting, that she die here at the base.

She throws a blast of darkness at you, a blast of your mate’s power, twisted and wrong in her hands and it’s the only thing she’s thrown thus far that makes your body tremble. The collar rattles at your throat, shaken but not loosened. You growl out a shuddering breath as you push through the waves of energy and push your hand right into her chest. Bones break and split beneath your hands, her blood warm as your hand sinks into her chest cavity. 

Amarantha gasps in surprise, in pain, as your fingers wrap around her still beating heart. Her dark eyes widen with fear, mouth hanging open as blood pools in the corners of her lips. 

“Please,” she gurgles. She knows she’s going to die either way, but now, for the first time, she’s powerless. As powerless as all the people she has harmed over the years.

Your fingers tighten, her body as resistant as her shields beneath your hands. All those powers she’s stolen lash against you: A bit of light and darkness, ice and fire and water in a last ditch effort to save herself. Yet, your body pulls it in greedily as you get a solid grip on her beating heart. 

None of this feels real, possible. This is something out of your books back home.

“Please,” she rasps. As if she had ever shown any of you mercy, as if she had not demanded that you beg at her feet and then laughed in your face. “Please.”

And there, at the foot of her oh so precious throne, in front of her dark court, you rip the Queen’s heart right out of her chest, silencing that grating voice for eternity.

You don’t even get to relish in the victory, to appreciate for even a second that you are all finally free of her, not when all that power she’d stolen swirls around you. The void that makes up your skin draws it in, waves of ice and water and flame swirling like a tornado around your body. The collar hums gleefully in your ears, as if this was its plan all along. It’s too much at once, bringing you to your knees as the influx of power in your veins has your head pounding mercilessly in your skull. Spots dance around your vision, the world spinning and flipping. There is not enough air in Prythian to help you breath against the influx of power. This was why she was always smoking the mirthroot. No one person could hold this much power at once. It will tear up your insides, ruin your mind, your soul.

“Y/N?” Rhys reaches for you, despite his shackles, his voice slurred. Just like in the Pit, you think it will be horror you see on his face, but it is only concern for you, not of you.

Your mate, wearing a collar just as you are. Your mate who was punished for not keeping you beneath the Mountain. Your mate who’s powers now swirl around beneath your skin like the dark whisper of a shadow. Your mate now splattered with Amarantha’s blood as he reaches a hand out to you, as if he could somehow save you from this wild thing tearing up your insides. The Cauldron had been merciless, cold, and empty, but this is like being roasted alive, the fire too hot, making the water churning around you boil and steam. Ice pricks against your sensitive skin like a thousand tiny needles. It’s too much. It has to be released somewhere.

Rhys calls for you again, crawling towards you, body so much slower than it should be. Distantly, in that small part of you still aware of yourself, you know you need to give his powers back to him. His powers will speed his healing; his powers might just save him from you, but that wall is still there between you and your body.  When you try to reach for him the collar pulses so intensely with heat you jerk back away from him, sliding down the steps with a whimper.

Rhys manages to get on his feet, swaying under all that mirthroot. “Y/N!” 

His voice is so loud in your ears. Everything is too much. The brush of the throne’s steps against your feet, the swirl of water around your body, even the air in the room feels like it’s pressing against your skin. You throw out a hand, trying to make it stop, sending spikes of ice in all directions.

It must have hit the chain around Rhys’s neck because a moment later he’s stumbling down the steps to take your face in hand, the powers swirling around you be damned. “Focus on me,” he orders.

Your head is going to explode.

His strong hands grip your face, “Right here. Breathe. You’re ok. Just breathe.”

Why is he screaming? Your hands move despite yourself to shove him off you, to try and make the world quiet for five seconds. This is too much. You can’t bear it. You know you’re screaming because the collar retaliates against it, using the powers you’ve stolen to wound you further for the rebellion, but you can’t stop. The Mountain begins to shake and rumble, loose rock and debris falling in waves overhead. 

Light and darkness pour out of you in blinding waves, the swaying movement in sync to your heartbeat. It’s a pulse that slams into the Mountain’s own magic, beating relentlessly until more chunks of the rock get hurled away, letting more light in. More people scatter, their screams mingling with your own. 

“You can do this,” Rhys encourages, and when you finally manage to get your gaze to where he still kneels beside you. “Just breathe.”

“This is a new side of you Rhysand.” The world tilts. The pounding in your head makes the echo of approaching boots feel like every step has been made atop your skull. “I never would have thought you’d be offering up your services as a teacher, I thought you’d prefer to be on your back.”

Hybern walks into view, armor glinting, sword in hand. 

No! 

“Stop this,” Rhys begs and the sight of him like that, on his knees, makes you want to rip your father to shreds. “Let go of her! That collar will kill her.”

“Only if she fights it,” Hybern says with a shrug. 

Blood trickles out your nose in inky black droplets, splattering the floor. When you lean forward and heave, more black goo comes out your mouth. 

“I will give you anything,” Rhys pleads.

“Is this love?” Hybern sneers. 

He does not wait for an answer as he turns to you and says, “Kill him, Y/N, I’ve waited long enough.”

No amount of mentally bashing yourself against the walls that cage you stop you from reaching out a hand and using a bit of Rhys’s own power to throw him across the room, his body bouncing off the marble.

It feels as if you’re lifting the Mountain just to get back on your feet, body swaying. Blood still drips from your nose. There might never be enough release of all this power to make the pain in your temples fade. 

Rhys struggles to get to his feet, arms shaking beneath him. You’ve split open his cheek and temple. He’s barely managed to get up before you hurl more shadows at him, the dark mist lashing like a whip, cutting open his shoulder, his side. 

Stop! Stop! Stop! By the Cauldron, he’s your mate! You can’t do this to him!

“Y/N,” Rhys slurs, voice breaking and you’re sure it’s the cracking of your own heart in your chest.

“Stop playing around,” Hybern orders.

Your body moves despite your efforts, lunging forward, fists flying. Rhys does his best to dodge, but he puts up no real effort, letting blow after blow land when he gets too tired to keep up.

Fight back. Please, by the Cauldron, fight back!

You manage to get a hand around his throat and you slam him so hard into the wall it cracks, his body nearly limp in your grip.

Stop. Stop. Stop!

“It’s ok,” he rasps. He’s not even trying to pry you off. “It’s not your fault.”

You’re going to die. If he dies, at your hand, you will not recover from this. Hybern might as well have killed you back at the Temple, there will be no saving you.

Violet eyes meet yours. There is no fear there, only understanding, only compassion. 

You mentally throw yourself at the wall stopping you from regaining control over your body, bashing against it with everything you have. The collar’s power burns through you like boiling water in your veins. For your mate, your selfless, self-sacrificing mate, you’ll take whatever agony it can throw at you. It can’t end like this!

“I love you,” Rhys says, hands brushing over your claws. “I’m sorry I couldn’t save you.”

No. No. No!

Your claws tighten around his throat, drawing blood, as he gasps for air.

The collar rattles against your skin from how hard you’re fighting it, the metal hissing and screaming in your ears. You’re not going to let this happen. After everything you’ve been through, you can’t let Hybern win. He’s just a man. You’re a goddess, you will not be shackled to some mortal’s will. He will not take your mate from you, even if you have to fight Death yourself for him.

Darkness leaks from you. Your other fist slams into the wall next the Rhys’s head as your body spasms under the collar’s control.

“It’s ok,” Rhys whispers.

Spots swim across your vision, so damn fast they start to look like shadows. The world spins. The fire in your veins is unbearable. So much so that your body’s self-preservation finally kicks in and the hand around Rhys’s throat finally unlatches to let you grasp at the collar.

Rhys collapses, coughing at your feet as you tug at the metal fused to your skin, trying to pull it off. It’s not full control, but if you can keep pushing…

The room keeps spinning, end over end, the blood red marble at your feet now at the ceiling. Your stomach’s in your throat as your knees give out beneath you. You think you might be screaming again but the collar hums so loud you can’t hear anything over it. Still, you claw and yank at it with everything you’ve got.

“Stop fighting, Y/N,” Hybern orders. 

Every breath feels like a battle. “Fuck…” the metal peels away from your skin like you’re ripping off a bandaid, skin coming with it. “You!” You snarl, voice ragged and gone. 

He’s not going to beat you. 

You get a claw beneath the metal, tearing through your own skin, it’s the only thing sharp enough to reach through the void. 

“That’s enough!” Hybern screams.

The High Lord’s powers are yours, not Hybern’s, not the collar’s, not a product of the Cauldron. Yours. You push as much of Rhys’s darkness into your palms as you can, let that dark, glittering power slither its way beneath the collar. 

Rhys manages to get up again, face bruised and bloodied. “Y/N!”

After everything, you’re not going to let him die, no matter what it costs you.

You get both hands around the collar, push whatever power you have into your palms until the heat of Autumn’s flames make the metal soft in your grip. Hybern is still yelling orders, but the don’t matter. If this kills you in the end, at least you’ll go knowing he didn’t get his precious Death Goddess. If you go, he looses. 

With one last, rattling scream, you rip the collar off and the darkness pulsing from your body swallows you whole.

---

It’s all darkness. Not the Cauldron’s darkness. Not the Void that makes up your being. Not the darkness of your mate. It’s empty. Cold. Quiet. It has no beginning or ending, no borders or boundaries. It flows and ebbs like a tide, carrying your broken body along.

Broken. It’s a strange feeling, teetering along the edge of death itself, the pain a reminder that you’ve not fully topped over into nothingness yet, but it is there, pulling you closer and closer with no tether to the living on the other side of this dark veil. 

And yet…

There, above your aching head, spins a single, glowing flower.

In this haze, it’s hard to remember where you’ve seen it before, yet you know, somehow that it’s meant for you.

“Come. Come and see.” It’s that phantom voice from your dreams again, always beckoning, tugging that tiny, little thread you feel blooming in your chest.

You reach for the flower, every muscle feeling like it might tear apart the more you move. It spins just out of reach, drawing you along, against the ebbing tide. Perhaps your eyes are playing tricks on you, but the darkness feels as if it’s getting lighter somehow.

The flower continues to beckon, further and further into the light until you have to shield your eyes against it…

---

Gaining consciousness feels suspiciously like being dropped from nothingness against the icy bite of the marble floors. Even being remade inside the Cauldron didn’t feel entirely as jarring as whatever that was.

Strong hands stroke your cheeks, moving your hair aside from your aching forehead. “Please, please, come back.” Rhys whispers, voice cracking.

His tears drip along your cheeks and it takes all your effort to drag an eye open to look at him. “I’m not…” it feels like you’re talking around a throatful of gravel. “I’m not going anywhere.”

Your mate lets out a sob as he drags your aching body into his arms, chest heaving as he cries into your hair. Over his shoulder, you can see the destruction behind him, the Mountain in shambles, what’s left of Amarantha near her throne. But Hybern is nowhere to be found.

Rhys pulls away just enough to kiss your forehead, your cheeks, “I thought you were dead.”

“I am a goddess after all,” you grumble. You certainly don’t feel divine by any means. “Kinda hard to kill me.”

He laughs through his tears, as he holds you tighter.

You let yourself lean into his touch, eyes closing. The worst of it is over, and yet, it all hits you at once. “I’m sorry,” you rasp into his skin. “I’m so sorry.”

“You’re safe,” he says, kissing the top of your head. “That’s all that matters.”

“Hybern-”

His arms tighten around you, “Don’t worry, Darling. We’re going to make sure he pays for everything he’s done.”

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

*Thank you all for sticking with this story, I know my posting times have been sporadic lately, rest assured I will see this through. =)*

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[forwhump]

a/n; this one’s pretty fucked up :-; more rape & more murder but it’s a story about a sex slave & a weapon so that’s just kinda what you get ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ my bad !

tw/cw: rape, noncon, mutilation, dismemberment, decapitation, murder, grievous bodily harm, misgendering, transphobia, psychological torture, urine, gore, bodily fluids

living weapon whumpee, multiple whumpers, revenge, military

There has not been a time, since his creation, that Silas has been above ground.

Everything that’s been done to him, everything that he’s done, it’s happened hundreds of feet below the ground in the concrete labyrinth of the district. Every surgery, every slaughter, every field test.

Even the fuckin’ field tests. The field tests are training exercises, combat training, but they don’t trust Silas above ground to participate in them. They’re probably right not to. They’re smarter, sometimes, than Silas will ever give them credit for.

Within the labyrinth there are these arenas, these massive, open spaces made up to look like a world Silas has never seen. There’s a number of them, made to look like different practical terrain; forests and deserts and small villages and mountains and cities. It would be impossible for Silas to fathom if he ever had the time or the means to sit and try and fathom it. He’d almost think he left the district were it not for the concrete sky, hundreds of feet above his head.

He didn’t always mind the field tests. It was a chance to stretch his legs. The enemy was always played by military recruits, young and green. Silas isn’t sure if they know what they’re getting into when they enter the arena, if they are briefed on exactly what Silas is, but none of them ever walk out again. Their grieving families will bury a flag and a handful of teeth on Silas’ most generous day.

Barbarity is encouraged. Bloodshed is lauded. It’s always a slaughter, but it’s expected of him. It’s always been a good way to blow off some steam, even if he never walks away unscathed. He gets to use his hands.

But the rules had changed since they’d taken Wren from him.

The rules have been the same for every field test so far — kill or be killed. The recruits get weapons and machinery and supplies and dogs; Silas doesn’t even get a shirt. He gets a pair of prison grey joggers and his own two hands. Kill or be killed.

They didn’t tell him they’d added civilians.

He doesn’t realize that anything’s wrong for an entire three days. He soldiers through the rainforest arena and kills recruits with tooth and talon. When the lights get shut down for the third night, nighttime in the wilderness, Silas has become that thing the field tests always stoke to life in him; Silas isn’t human anymore. It slides under his skin, that feral, rabid thing, and it rips limbs from screaming bodies, it peels skin back with his teeth. When the lights get shut down for the third night, Silas’ hair is glued to his back and his throat with the thick layer of blood that crusts his skin. None of it is his own. Not a single recruit had gotten a single shot in yet. It was going exceptionally well. Silas should have been suspicious.

He should’ve fuckin’ known. He should’ve done better. He should’ve been faster. When he finally sees Wren again, his Wren, bathed in the flickering firelight of the enemy camp, all the human parts of him are reignited with a screaming rage and a sort of guilt that makes Silas feel heavy. He should’ve known something was wrong. He should’ve been here three days ago.

The surviving soldiers are set up around the fire, cocky and comfortable. Wren’s in the dirt at their feet.

Fuck, Silas had missed him. Silas had missed him in a big, impossible way, and he can’t even be happy to see him because Silas wishes more than anything that Wren was not here. Wren would be safer almost anywhere but here.

He’s dressed like a child and his hair is down, grimy and matted, pooling in the dirt around him. He’s face down, limp, and Silas has to blink red mist from his vision. Before he’s close enough to stop it, one of the soldiers stands, pulls his belt, and pisses in Wren’s hair.

Wren doesn’t move or moan or otherwise react in any way. He’s still limp — he’s so still, actually, almost unnaturally still, and Silas is — he can’t be too late, Wren can’t be —

Another soldier stands, some blond puke, and he turns Wren onto his side with his foot before he boots him in the stomach.

Weakly, Wren groans. Weakly, softly, but he groans. He isn’t dead.

Silas is gonna cause a fuckin’ bloodbath.

“Stop passing out on us,” the blond groans. “You got a long night ahead of you, girl.”

Wren doesn’t make another sound and the recruit kicks him again, so hard he’s forced onto his back. He groans softly.

A soldier with a shock of red hair spits in the dirt next to him as he stands. “I know how to wake her up.” His grin glints in the firelight and the blond laughs. He spits again as he takes a handful of Wren’s hair, coiling it around his fist, hauling him across the dirt and a safe distance away from the bonfire. He whistles back over his shoulder at the other recruits, watching him with varying degrees of obvious humour. “C’mere. Hold her open for me. Hold her down when she starts fighting and I’ll let you have a turn when I’m done.”

No.

How can this keep happening? How can this be somebody’s life?

There’s something casual, something genuinely amused in the way the recruits laugh between themselves as they splay their hands over Wren’s skin, as they hold his limp body into the dirt and he whimpers. The redhead tugs his belt free before he kneels between Wren’s legs, shoving the frilly hem of his little dress up and around his ribcage. He settles over him, his knuckles white against the purpling bruise of Wren’s skin. His answering groan is loud and low and satisfied.

Silas can hear when Wren regains consciousness because of how horribly and primally he screams.

All of the recruits laugh, but it’s the blond that coos, pleased, “there she is.”

When Silas breaks the tree line it’s his shadow that gives him away. One of the soldiers, holding one of Wren’s thighs, looks up, distracted, and the double take he does would be comical if Silas weren’t out for blood. He jumps to his feet, fumbles for his gun, green and unprepared. He cries, “what the fuck is that?”

Silas grins, but it isn’t nice.

The rest of the recruits look up in militant unison but react quickly with varying degrees of unrestrained horror. Almost every one of them scrambles to their feet and for their weapons. Except, of course, the redheaded puke knelt between Wren’s thighs. He stills, a picture of cruelty.

Silas cracks his knuckles.

Wren’s head lolls against the dirt and he finds Silas through the idiot cavalry. This’ll be easy; the recruits are always just as evil as the soldiers — a requirement of them, apparently — but they aren’t nearly as dangerous. They aren’t trained, polished, quick in the way the soldiers are, they aren’t used to Silas the same. This will be embarrassing for them.

Wren looks up at Silas with huge, wet eyes and the way the relief crests across his face would probably make Silas cry if he were capable of it.

“What the hell is that thing?” The recruits are shouting. “Who are you? Back up! Back the fuck up!”

Silas barely hears them. To Wren, he says, “I’m sorry I’m late.”

Wren tips his head back as he sobs.

The redhead looks down at him quickly as he hisses, “what the fuck is that?”

He folds an arm over his face and his chest hitches as he cries into the grime.

The recruit tries to grab him, to pry his arm from his face, hisses something else like “look at me when I’m talking to you. What the fuck is going on?”, but Silas is across the camp in a second and he takes his ginger head in both hands. The recruit flails, pulls away from Wren, and as soon as he does Silas turns, trying to shield his Wren from the splatter with his bulk. He crushes the redhead’s skull between his hands.

The noise it makes is like a crack of lightning.

The sort of silence that’s close behind unrecoverable trauma settles over the camp and Silas grins so widely something clicks in his jaw. He’s merciful — the recruits won’t have to live with this for long.

“What are you?” The blond asks, and his voice is thin.

Silas cracks his neck. “Does it matter?”

A different recruit swallows so thickly that Silas can hear it. But he’s trying to be brave, so he says, “back up, freak.”

Silas does not, in fact, back up. The blond is standing close and he doesn’t react quick enough when Silas grabs him by the collar — he panics, flailing as Silas lifts him clean off the ground. It kind of wakes up the recruits, who lift guns and take aim, but what’s the worst they can do to him? Really?

It’s one of the worst things about these men, about this place. It’s one of the reasons Silas hates them so viscerally it’s become interwoven into his DNA. Silas, in a way, gets off easy — Silas just gets shot, and he can take a fuckin’ bullet. It’s the least he can do. Wren isn’t so lucky. They aren’t afraid of Wren. He’s small and he can’t fight back the way Silas can. What’s the worst thing they can do to a fuckin’ machine? They’ll shut him down, and he’ll begin again. Wren is vulnerable.

He pries a handgun from the blond’s flailing grip hands and forces the barrel down the back of his throat. He grabs at Silas’ wrist, frantic, and Silas grins at him as he pulls the trigger.

He bursts into blood and viscera and the other recruits explode into shouting and panic. “Get back!” The brave one shouts, and he makes the grievous mistake of getting too close. Not within reaching distance, but still too close. “Get the fuck back!”

“What are you gonna do?” Silas asks, raising his eyebrows. “Shoot me?” The recruit lifts his gun, a threat, and Silas grins at him. “Tell you what. Let me do you one better,” and he points the gun down, firing a round into his own foot. It crackles with a pain that the simmering rage quickly dissolves.

The soldier gapes, hesitating, and he only hesitates for half a moment but it’s a full moment too long. Silas raises the gun again. “Now it’s your turn,” he says, and unloads three rounds between his eyes.

He drops to the dirt and another recruit steps over him quickly, into Silas’ personal space.

Silas doesn’t take kindly to that.

He takes him by the jaw and wrenches his mouth open. As he tries to scream around Silas’ hands, Silas hooks his fingers behind each row of his teeth and rips his face in half through the middle. His throat is still working as Silas pushes his body out of the way with the side of his foot.

“What the fuck?” A recruit cries, standing too close, splattered with blood that isn’t his own. Silas reaches out to him with his free hand and tears out his windpipe with bloody fingers. As he chokes, Silas breaks his nose back into his brain with the base of his gun. His eyes are rolled back into his head when he dies.

There are four surviving recruits, and they try to scatter. Silas lets them try, because he enjoys the panic, but he doesn’t let them get very far. Eight rounds, one for each knee. There are cries of pain and noises of impact and Silas laughs loudly.

He weaves his way across the camp slowly, tauntingly, and he kills them one at a time. He crushes both hands and the throat of the first recruit; he removes both hands and the throat from the second. The third is decapitated, and not quickly or cleanly; Silas removes his head with force, and the way his skin splits is like wet paper.

The last recruit had pissed in Wren’s hair.

Silas approaches him with the unhurried stalk of a predator. The recruit trembles, trying to scramble away from Silas, but he’d been shot in both knees and he’d fallen hard, the bones of his calf poking out from his flesh in opposite directions.

“That’s gotta hurt,” Silas says.

“Please,” he’s begging, and his voice is trembling, “please, please, don’t — don’t —“

Silas brings his foot down on his fractured leg as hard as he can. Puts all of his brawn and bulk into it.

The recruit tips his head back against the dirt and screams at the concrete sky.

Silas lets him scream. Who gives a fuck? He crouches next to him and takes his left arm by the elbow. The soldier screams again, tries to pull out of his grip, and Silas rips his arm out from the socket of his shoulder.

He shrieks at a pitch that Silas finds kind of irritating and he reaches across the recruit to grab his other arm and pull him over onto his stomach, face down in the dirt. He breaks his right arm off at the elbow.

He screams again and he’s screaming still when Silas stands to toe him back onto his back. As the recruit screams, Silas shoves down the waistband of his joggers, pulls out his dick, and pisses in his mouth. It’s only fair.

He flails with what’s left of his right arm and chokes in panic. It makes Silas grin. When he snaps his waistband back into place the recruit stares up at him with a look that Silas has come to recognize as resigned hatred. It never gets old. Weak and wet, he drawls, “they told us we didn’t have to worry about her dog.”

Silas raises his eyebrows. “They lied.”

The recruit chokes out a sound that would probably be a laugh if all the blood in his body weren’t seeping into the earth beneath him. “C’mon, man,” he tries. “Don’t — don’t. Please. Come on.”

Silas lifts the gun.

The recruit inhales quickly. “Please. Come on. Please.”

“Eat shit,” Silas tells him sincerely, and he empties the gun into his face.

[azrielslightintheshadows]

Can I make a request? Like what about if Rhys had a Daughter before amarantha and somewhow she took her and made her be just like rapuzel, like she was a baby and used her powers to her own benefit, and he didn’t know that she was still alive… and somehow she ran away from amarantha…

Family.

Inner circle x f!Reader -Rhysand's daughter

Warnings; mentions of abuse, trauma and death.

Masterlist.

So it's not exactly what you asked but I hope you enjoy it! P.s; I just realized I have never seen a movie about Rapunzel and I just know the basics of the story :')

“Ah there she is!” Beron smirked “Come my dear, I want you to punish those traitors”.

You approached him quietly and stared at the two young males on the floor in front of Beron’s throne.

“Come on dear I don’t have all day” he scoffed.

You held the tears back not wanting to be punished and kept your hands behind your back as you focused on the males. Both tensed and cried out as you let your talons pierce their minds and turn them into mist.

“Good” he purred, and you nodded.

“Put her back in her room” He ordered the guards and you let them grip your arms and drag you away.

Your room was cozy, and it offered a perfect view of the forest beneath the house. Even though you were trapped there you were thankful that they treated you with some kindness. You were only a baby from what you heard when Amarantha took you and locked you away. You would be dead if she didn’t want your powers. You grew up in a dark cell feeling tired and abused every time she used a piece of your power. You were always alone, you couldn’t remember your mother or your father but some nights you dreamed of a male, tall and graceful, screaming at the guards who carried you away, his violet eyes and tanned skin were the only proof that he was your father. Sometimes when you stared at the mirror you could see him staring back at you. Even though you couldn’t remember anything else, the thought that he cried out and tried to get to you when they took you away made you feel a bit of love for him.

 When Amarantha was defeated all the magic that kept you in the cell disappeared and your powers came back, you ran away like your life depended on it - it probably did- and you tried to find your father only to smack into Beron’s chest. “What do we have here?” he had smiled.

Beron informed you about your father’s death and took you in, he kept you in a room where his servants brought to you everything you needed. The guards would come and get you when your powers were needed and then you would be locked in the room again. You didn’t mind it, at least it wasn’t a cell, and no one ever tried to take some piece of your power. These people saved you and you owed them so even though you hated killing those innocent faes, you never showed it, you wanted Beron to be proud of you.

A knock on your door pulled you out of your thoughts and you smoothed your dress. Beron’s eldest son -your fiancé walked in. His father had decided to wed you to him, yet you only saw him on special occasions.

“Y/n” he greeted.

“Lord Eris” you smiled politely.

“Follow me” he said and walked out. You quickly obliged with a curious look, he led you into his room and picked a cloak from his closet.

“Listen to me carefully…” he cupped your jaw and lifted your head making you look at his eyes “I’m taking you home, I want you to tell them the truth, that I never touched you and that I saved you multiple times from my father’s abuse”.

“Tell who?” you asked him softly.

“Your father and his guard dogs” he replied, and you took a step back shaking your head.

“My father’s dead” you breathed.

“No he isn’t, Beron lied because he wanted you.” He said and your knees trembled.

“What?” you felt tears streaming down your face.

“Come on before the guards realize you are gone” he said and pulled you closer, lifting the hood of your cloak and hiding your face. He winnowed you into an office and gestured to the chair.

“Don’t take the hood off yet.” He ordered and you nodded, keeping your gaze to the floor.

You heard footsteps and the door opened.

“I hope you have a good reason for disturbing me Eris” a deep voice said and you almost gasped. You had heard this deep and velvety voice again in your dreams.

“I have something that belongs to you” Eris spoke.

“Who’s that?” another voice said.

“Before I show you, I want you to promise to let her speak before pouncing on me.”

“I promise” the male scoffed.

You felt Eris’ hand on your hood, he pushed it back and you lifted your head, your violet eyes met your father’s and his breath hitched.

“Mother’s tits!” a winged male exclaimed.

“Is she…” your father started.

“Yes, Amarantha didn’t kill her, she kept her for her daemati powers. Her name’s y/n” Eris explained.

“Where did you find her?” another male spoke, you noticed some shadows flowing out of him and approaching you curiously.

“Beron found her when she escaped, he told her you were dead and took her in our court.”

“You had my daughter all this time?” he growled and grabbed Eris by the neck.

“Stop” you gasped and raised from your seat. He glanced at you and released your fiancé. “He never hurt me, he was the only one who cared about me… he saved me multiple times from Beron’s tortures.”

“Rhysand….” Eris spoke “I’m not the enemy”.

“Why now Eris? You could bring her here two years ago when Amarantha died” Rhysand snarled, and you flinched.

“I couldn’t, my father wouldn’t let her out of his sight and even if I managed to sneak her out you know I would be punished, he would kill me” Eris shouted.

“What changed now?” The one with the shadows asked.

“I want you to help me kill him and become High Lord”. Your fiancé said.

You ignored the ache in your heart as you realized that you were nothing more than a bargaining chip. “Leave” Rhys told him “We will have a proper meeting tomorrow, you can stay in Hewn city if you don’t want to go back”.

Eris nodded and opened the door. “Should I come with you?” you asked softly.

“No, stay with your father.” He smiled at you.

“But you’re my fiancé” you furrowed your eyebrows and Rhysand growled.

“No I’m not. My father wanted to marry you, I only offered myself to save you” he said and closed the door behind him.

You stared at the three males in front of you and took a step back.

“Its okay sweetheart, no one will hurt you” your father spoke and his eyes watered “Cauldron I thought you were dead”. You could see how much he wanted to touch you, but you couldn’t move, you don’t know him and even though he is your father you fear him.

“I remember you…” your voice was barely above a whisper. His eyes widened and he took a step closer. “I dreamed of you crying out and trying to get to me as guards took me away”.

“I couldn’t save you” he was crying now.

“Uhm, is my mother here?” you asked, and he shook his head.

“They killed her…”

You nodded and stared at him.

“Let’s get you home” he offered you his hand and winnowed away.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

He took you to a city he called Velaris and showed you your room in his house. You couldn’t really believe that you finally found someone of your family, especially a parent.

“I will send someone to buy you some clothes and if you want, we can go into the city tomorrow and you can buy whatever you want.” Rhys smiled.

“Uhm thank you, I just need one or two dresses.” You said softly and he frowned.

“Nonsense you are my daughter!” he exclaimed.

“I don’t want to waste your money…” you confessed.

“Honey you’re not wasting my money, I will buy you the whole world if you want.” You could see that he meant it, from the moment he saw you he has a longing look on his face and you knew that the only reason he kept a distance is to not spook you. Your heart melted at the thought and the need for love became too much so you let your body take the lead and walked up to him.

“Can I hug you?” your voice was barely above a whisper, and you avoided his eyes. Your father gaped at you.

“Of course. Never ask for my permission honey!”

You wrapped your arms around him and pressed your cheek on his chest, you could hear his heart beating faster as he engulfed you and rested his chin on your head.

“I wish I could turn back time and watch you growing up to that beautiful female you now are” he whispered, and you felt a tear landing on your head. You let a soft sigh and pulled him harder against you. Even though you were a baby the last time he held you, his warmth felt familiar, and you could feel all his love pouring out of him into the hug.

“We’re together now, we can make up for the lost time” you told him.

“I will spend the rest of my life giving you all the love you missed.” He promised and you gasped as you felt something burning your skin behind your ear.

“It’s a bargaining tattoo, that’s how we make promises here” he explained, and you teared up. You would spend the rest of your life worshiping this tattoo.

“Would you like to meet the rest of our family?” he asked and pulled back.

“Yeah sure” you nodded, your heart skipping a beat when he said 'our'.

Rhysand stared at you for a few moments and grabbed your hand pulling you outside.

“We can fly to the house of wind” he said, and suddenly huge membranous wings appeared behind him. You giggled at the sight, and he furrowed his eyebrows.

“What?” he asked. “And I wondered where I got those from” you replied and summoned your own wings making him gasp and tear up again.

“You can fly?”

“No… didn’t have much room in my cell” he cursed under his breath.

“I can teach you” his eyes flashed with hope.

“I would like that.” You smiled.

He picked you up and you flew to the house of wind, the moment you walked inside you felt several pairs of eyes on you.

“Cauldron she looks just like him” a blonde female gasped and got up. “Hi I’m your father’s cousin -well your aunt Mor” she hugged you.

“Mor!” Rhys growled and you shook your head.

“It’s okay… I haven’t been held for a very long time.” You told him with a sad smile.

“Well this is the job for me! I’m Cassian your dad’s best brother, not from the same parents though” the huge male said before picking you up and spinning you around.

“Hi” you giggled “I’m y/n your brother’s daughter” he chuckled at that.

“This is Azriel my other brother” Rhys pointed at the male with the shadows. He scanned your form and approached you.

“It’s nice to meet you” he smiled and pulled you for a hug making everyone’s jaw drop. You weren’t surprised though, the way he hugged you showed that he understood the need for affection you had, and you wondered if he had ever experienced something similar.

“This is my mate Feyre” Rhysand said after Azriel let go of you. The beautiful female smiled at you kindly.

“Hello, I’m glad you’re finally home” she said softly and stepped closer. “Can I?”

“Yes” you smiled, and she hugged you. “You are the one who defeated Amarantha” you noted, and she nodded.

“Thank you” you breathed and hugged her harder.

After meeting her sisters and Amren you all sat around the table for dinner, everyone seemed so excited that you were there and soon the whole house buzzed with laughter and curses as Cassian shared stories of your father when he was younger. At some point you wanted to take the bottle of wine that was next to Rhysand, you stared at him for a few moments not sure how to address him. You yearned for a family and now you had one, and with that thought and a deep breath you said.

“Dad can you pass me the wine?”

[divine-misfortune]

Mist never thought she'd lose her droplet.

'Mist's little shadow' is what Omega called him before he was named, in the early days where he still carried the smell of the sulfuric pits with him. He never strayed far from her, always at her heel when she looked for him. She never prepared herself for the day she'd look over her shoulder and find him out of arms reach, only drifting further by the day.

She'd been happy at first, watching him grow into himself. Seeing Dew stand on his own, watching him take the stage like he'd always belonged there, seeing him bonded with his own pack.

Mist had been happy until the day another water ghoul came into his life, because that was the day she realized she was losing him.

She recognized the way Dew looked at this lithe, siren of a thing as he was guided from the summoning circle and felt her chest go tight. Dew looked at him with an immediate warmth that he never held for her, a yearning that she could not fulfill. Mist recognized desire that ran far deeper than she could ever satiate. It was the beginning of the end, no matter how hard she tried to pretend the signs weren't there.

Part of her didn't want to let go. Selfish in the way she missed her protege. Jealous in the way she observed them together. Devastated in the way Dew said his name like it was sacred.

But she still smiles despite it when Dew finds her, the happiest she'd seen him in months, excited enough to miss the faint sadness in her eyes. His flushed cheeks, the smell of cinnamon curling off of him so sweetly, his wide grin. He stumbles over his words as he grabs for her hands, skin running hotter than she'd ever recalled. He was not the ghoul she guided and guarded so closely. Bolder, louder, a fire ghoul by very definition, and a stranger to her at heart.

She should have known he was gone, that her place in his world was overshadowed. That she had done all she could for him, and that Dew didn't need her anymore.

Mist can only focus on the arduous task of maintaining her smile while he babbles on about the pretty new ghoul - Rain, again he says his name like he hopes to savor the way it forms on his tongue. Things between them were growing, blossoming, and he was happier than she'd ever seen him but despite that fact her stomach flips. Salt and lavender mixed underneath Dew's sweet smokey scent, nothing close to the way her protege used to smell. It made her feel sick realizing who it belonged to.

But she squeezes his hands dutifully and tells him how happy she is for him, for them. It's only a partial lie, and she traps the quiet plea for him not to leave behind her teeth when he lets her go.

When he turns, her smile drops and she brings her hands to her chest.

It feels like goodbye to watch him walk away.

[danikamariewrites]

im so in love with ddlg azriel, i was wondering if i could please request one where reader is fed up with work (me fr) and it stresses her out. she just wants to stay at home and bake and do cute stuff and live life (me fr) and she tells azriel this, she tells him she doesn’t even care ab money she wants a break from her horrible boss. he says he’ll take care of her, he already does, her own money is her own, even though azriel provides literally everything in her life. So they decide she’ll quit and do what pleases her instead. Maybe volunteer at the library in the house of wind with the priestesses. She looks so much more happy and azriels heart swells with love. 🧎‍♀️🧎‍♀️ pls

Done With Work

Azriel x reader

A/n: me too anon 😫 like what do you mean I have to work for the rest of my life?! I’m sick of it now 😭

I see this as the story for first few points in this headcanon

Warnings: ddlg, daddy kink, not proof read sorry lol

Your whole body felt heavy as you dragged yourself up the stairs to Azriel’s office. Without knocking you push the door open, giving your mate a tired look. “Y/n, what’s wrong my love?” You drop your bag and wordlessly walk over to him, plopping yourself on his lap and burying your face in his neck.

Breathing in his scent of night-chilled mist and cedar calmed you. Azriel brought his hand to rub up and down your spine. “I’m so sick of working Az.” You mumble. He adjusts you so your head rests on his chest and he can hear you clearly.

“Did something happen today?” You shrug lazily. “It’s just so draining. And I’ve worked all my life, I just want to do something for myself. I feel like I have no free time. And I’m just done.” Azriel hugged you tighter. “I want to quit Az. I need a break from terrible people. I have money so you don’t-“

Azriel cups your face cutting you off. He moves you so you’re looking up at him. “You are going to quit because I hate seeing you like this. You’re my mate and I want to keep you happy and comfortable. And don’t you dare bring up money. What you have is yours, let me take care of everything.”

Tears escaped your eyes as you smiled up at Azriel. “Thank you, my love.”

The next day you went in to work to quit. Your bosses look of shock brought you so much joy. You practically skipped out of the building and all the way home to Azriel. He swears he’d never seen you this happy about something so small.

From that day on Azriel told you to do whatever your heart desired. So you took your time getting into your new routine. First thing was to catch up on your sleep. Your sleep schedule was atrocious so you spent the first two weeks sleeping in.

Then you finally got around to decorating and rearranging the house the way you wanted. Azriel’s heart soared when he came home after a quick mission. The house felt warmer with you in the center of it.

You took your time exploring Velaris. Visiting a new part of the city everyday. Of course you spent most of your time in the Rainbow and had taken a liking to staying at Feyre’s studio some days.

You spent more time with Feyre and Elain. You helped Gwyn in the library and even started going to training in the morning. And when Nesta had time you two would read together. You started going out with Mor and Feyre a few nights a week too. Azriel felt like he was watching you, his beautiful and wonderful mate, come back to life again.

What you loved most about your new life style was the care and attention you got from Azriel. Not that you didn’t get it before. But now you have time to really enjoy it.

Everything he did for you put you back together. From spa days to simple lazy mornings in bed he made sure that you were happy and cared for. After the conversation about your relationship you were both insanely happy.

Azriel loved taking care of you, and with this new dynamic and nicknames it all just felt right. He felt like you could truly be open with him.

Your happiness really hit him on a day where you slept in and he made breakfast. Az wanted to bring you breakfast in bed but you got up before it was ready. His shadows altered him to your presence. Turning, he saw you rub your eyes with a smile. You looked so cute in just his t-shirt and panties.

“Good morning princess.” “Morning daddy.” You pad over to him, standing on your tiptoes you plant a kiss on his cheek. “Breakfast smells delicious. Did you make coffee?” “I did.” You let out a small happy sound and filled up two mugs bringing them over to the kitchen table.

You sit waiting for Az to bring your plates over. When Azriel finally sits you’re adding an obscene amount of sugar to your coffee. Azriel takes the spoon from your hand, “That’s enough princess or your teeth will rot.” You let out a huff and pick the syrup up to drown your pancakes in them.

“What can I say, I have a sweet tooth.” You let out a small giggle at Azriel’s fake stern face. Quicker than you can comprehend Azriel tickles your sides and you let out a scream of laughter. “Daddy stop, I can’t, aahhh!” Azriel pulls you onto his lap leaving small kisses all over your face as you continue to giggle.

Once you calmed down you snuggled into Azriel, wrapping your arms around his neck tightly. “I love you so much daddy.” Az hugged you back equally as tight, “I love you too so much princess.” You lean back smiling up at him. You peck his nose quickly and cup his face in your hands. “Thank you. For everything. I’m just, I’m so happy.”

Azriel felt tears from behind his eyes. He could feel your happiness radiating down the bond. That made him feel like the luckiest male in the world. The two of you loved each other and he has the best mate. “You never have to thank me princess. I told you, it’s my job.”

He turns you to face the table and lets you get comfortable as he pulls your plate over. “What do you want first.” “Hhmm…bacon!” Azriel took a strip of bacon from your plate holding it up to your mouth. Taking a bite you let out a satisfied hum. He kissed the back of your head as he began to cut up your pancakes.

If there was a moment you could live in with Azriel forever, it would be this one. You both had nothing to do today. He was feeding you. And he was holding you close, making you feel more loved than you had in your entire life.

[livelaughlovekny]

Hello!! I saw you accept requests so I have a scenario I have in mind, about Muicuiro x demon slayer reader who gave him a little notebook to write things that are important to him because he easly forget things (He might forgot that little notebook tho so the reader will write "A note for important things not to forget") but turns out almost 90% of that book is about the reader! Thanks before, have a great day!

a/n: ahh im so glad you requested this!! ive actually been planning on writing that so your request is perfectly timed oml. unfortunately, i wasnt able to form a full story about this and changed your request slightly! i still hope youll enjoy it!!

  “Tada! This is for you!” Placing a mint green notebook onto his hands, you beamed at him. “I bought this a while ago after my mission but never got the chance to pass it to you.” Muichirou flipped open the book, all the pages were blank. He looked at you quizzically. “I read about it in a book, writing things down can help you remember them better! Even if it didn’t, at least if you forgot something important, you could just refer to this notebook.”

  “I see. Thank you for your thoughtfulness.” You smiled at his bland reply before leaving. Muichirou waited until you were completely out of his line of sight before closing his estate’s door. Placing the notebook on a table, he went back out to the yard to train. When night came, he left to complete missions. The notebook and its purpose were long forgotten.

  A couple weeks later, the both of you had had another training session at the Mist Estate again.  “Thank you for training with me again!” Sitting down on the porch, you swing your feet. “How have you been? Has your memory improved?” Tilting his head to the side, Muichirou thought about it.

  “No, I don’t think so.”

  “Aww, I was hoping that the notebook would help.”

  “Notebook?” You looked at him, blinking quickly as if to get rid of something stuck in your eye. “Yes, a few weeks ago I suggested you write down important things in the notebook I gave you. Did you lose it?” Muichirou looked as if he was enlightened. “Ah, so that was what the book was for. No, I still have it, I just forgot why you gave it to me.” It wasn’t that you expected this to happen but such things happened too often so you laughed it off. “I see, don’t worry about it. May I enter your home?” He nodded his head. You were the only one who was allowed to enter his estate, perhaps the only one who has even seen it.

  Walking towards his room, you gestured at the closed door, silently asking for permission to enter it which you received immediately. Stepping into his room, you quickly notice the notebook lying on his desk. Grabbing a pen, you wrote on the cover in your neatest handwriting. Leaning over your shoulder, Muichirou read the words aloud, “‘Important Things “smiley face”’.” You looked up and smiled at him. “There you go! Now you won’t forget what this book is for!” Muichirou hummed slightly in response. “Thank you. I’ll try my best to use it to its full potential.” You laughed. 

  Again, he watched you wave goodbye to him and walk away until you were no longer visible. He turned back and sat down in front of his desk. He picked up the pen you used and flipped to the first page of the notebook. He stared at it, wondering what to write. He decided to write the date in the top left corner. He placed the pen down and continued staring at the blank page. There was nothing important to note down at the moment. Muichirou tried recalling his memories, deciding that whatever he remembered was at least important enough to be remembered. The only thing that formed in his mind was your smile and laugh. 

  Not wanting to scribble on the date and wait till next time to write down something else, he decided that writing about you will do for now. “Nice smile and laugh.” He felt uncomfortable writing down your name. A weird feeling would rise up within his chest. Closing the notebook, Muichirou decided that he was done writing for the day and went to the yard to train.

  A few days later, he received a letter from you. The both of you would send each other letters and you usually write about your missions and days while Muichirou would write back just to acknowledge your letters and offer advice if you asked for it. This time, you were writing about how you came across a night fair after a mission, saw the “cutest fox shaped hair piece ever” and enjoyed the “best tasting castella cake ever” and how you wished that the both of you and the other Hashiras could participate in a night fair together. 

  Folding the letter neatly, Muichirou placed the letter in a drawer where he kept your letters. After sending his response, he sat at his desk for a while before taking out his notebook. He flipped to the next empty page. He wrote the date on the top left corner like before. “Likes foxes and castella. Wants everyone to go to night fairs.” Tilting his head to the side, Muichirou wondered what else to add on. Pulling open the drawer where he kept your letters, he took some recent ones out and read them, noting down the parts where you expressed your likes and dislikes. He could practically hear your voice reading them aloud.

  “I was fighting this really mean demon that attacks with flesh-eating slugs. I hate slugs now. I did see a slug-shaped cloud, that wasn’t bad. Cloud gazing is calming, you should try it! You probably do already.”

  “Dandelions are so fun! I finished a mission and on the way back, I walked past a dandelion field. The way they flew was so cool!! I ran around and they all started flying and it was so pretty! I think you might like it too!”

  “You would not believe what I found: a four-leaf clover!! Four-leaf clovers are really rare and lucky and they’re my favourite colour! In case you forgot the colour, it’s green. Green is such a soothing colour! Your hair and eyes are really nice to look at.”

  Carefully reading through your letters multiple times to ensure he didn’t miss out on anything, Muichirou forgot about his daily training. And for the next few days, he would anticipate your letters more than usual, excited to find out more things about you. So as per usual, he gently unfolded the letter he received and read it.

  “…Oh right, are you noting down the important things in the notebook I gave you? If you are, let me know if you think your memory has improved!!”

  “I have been writing down important things and am able to remember them better. Thank you. Would you like to cloud gaze with me after the Hashira meeting next week? I took up your suggestion and did enjoy it.”

Bonus: “The Mist Hashira has sent you a letter!” Smiling at your crow, you thanked it and untied the envelope from its leg. It was rare for him to use an envelope since the both of you only used one to deliver small items. Gently opening the envelope, you find a note and something neatly wrapped. You pick up both items. “Saw this the other day.” Undoing the green wrapping paper, you realised that Muichirou had sent you a fox hair clip.

a/n: wahh i think the "bonus" i write at the end of fics are just time skips since im bad at writing them :'( i tried to not write about mui thinking of you as important and you thinking and caring for him too obviously to show the light-heartedness of your relationship but i think i just kept telling and not showing ahh i hope you guys liked this ohmygosh this is turning into a mini rant

[imaginidol]

Taemin: Stars Under the Rain

“Taemin!” You hissed at the giggling boy as he practically jogged away from you with your shared umbrella, leaving you to be slowly soaked under the evening rain’s mist.

“You menace,” you whisper, pulling at his ear once you’ve caught up to him for the umpteenth time. “If I have to say your name one more time, someone’s gonna recognize you and the rest is history!”

Taemin only giggled some more and looked around the street at the walking pedestrians around you.

“What if a reporter hears us? Me with you? How funny do you think the headlines will be?”

“Taemin, that’s not funny!” You can’t help but stifle a short laugh at the ridiculousness of the boy in front of you.

“Fine, how about you hold the umbrella now?” He offers you the bright green umbrella along with a sheepish grin.

“Wow, thanks, Tae,” you roll your eyes at the realization that the only reason he returned the umbrella was because evidently, the mist had suddenly stopped.

He giggles again and pulls his hoodie over his head.

“Okay, okay,” he smiled, offering you his hand. “I’ll be good now.”

You pinched his arm before generously accepting his hand, wrapping your cool fingers around his.

While he was a bit of a menace to be around, you appreciated and loved the way Taemin would turn into a completely comfortable and playful version of himself when he was with you. There weren’t too many people he would show this side to.

“Look,” he says, stopping shortly before a line of street-way trees decorated with holiday lights.

You look up to see where his eyes have landed. You’re taken aback by the breathtaking sight of brightly-lit trees. While you always knew the city decorated their trees for the holidays, you had never actually stopped to admire the work put into the heavenly sight and how beautifully it complemented the dark sky at night.

“Wanna know what I think of these trees?” He looks at you quietly.

“Tell me what you think,” you reply.

“I really like how each bulb, regardless of its shape or size, is very pretty on its own. It’ll light up the dark pretty well. But I do prefer how they all complement each other when they’re all together, different shapes and different sizes. They look like cosmos when they’re all together.”

“I like that thought,” you say, admiring the twinkling lights all around you both. “Do you see those star-shaped lights, Tae? I think of you as one of those, in a sense.”

“Is it because I’m an artist and being a ‘star’ is my career?” He smiles.

“That’s too literal, Tae. I mean like… you’re very admirable in your own way. Inside and outside of your career. You work hard for what you give, you give your best when someone asks for your advice. You have people all around you that support you and help you succeed well. It makes you stand out like one of these star-lights. And if you put you and your supporters together… you all become a big, lit-up beautiful tree. You give inspiration to many in more ways than one.”

Taemin was quiet for a while, soaking in your calming words. The corners of his lips would curl to the tiniest of smiles when he thought of you at times like these.

“You know,” he says after a while, “I appreciate the way you see me for me, in and out of my career. But you’re missing something in your analogy.”

“What am I missing?”

“While it may be a beautifully lit-up tree that I’ve cultivated over my life, it takes just one precious person to notice it all and truly appreciate its existence. You see me and you appreciate me, my supporters, my life when the lights are turned off, my life when I’m shining at my brightest. I appreciate having you be that person. You make me feel very… seen.”

Your cheeks redden warmly and you can’t help but pull your boyfriend’s face close to plant a sweet kiss against his cheek, to which he smiles and returns one against your lips.

One, two, four little kisses later, the mist of rain is back. This time, you have the upper-hand with holding the umbrella. You realize this and immediately jog away from Taemin, leaving him in a heap of shock and giggles as he runs calling after you, the rain mist hitting his face and yours as you both briskly ran away under the brightly shining holiday trees.